Something felt wrong before they reached the ravine.
Ragnar could not name it exactly. The terrain looked the same as his scouts had described, the approach was clear, and the men around him were moving without issue. But a feeling had been sitting at the back of his neck for the last quarter mile and he had been a soldier long enough to know better than to ignore it. He slowed his pace slightly and scanned the ridgelines above.
He saw nothing.
He had just opened his mouth to signal a halt when the arrows came down.
Ragnar was already jumping into action before the full scale of the ambush even registered in his mind.
The rebels had chosen their battlefield well.
His horse turned sharply beneath him as rebels surged into the ravine from both ends. Arrows continued raining from the ridgelines overhead and Ragnar used his shadows to create a sort of protective barrier for himself and his soldiers, shielding them from the onslaught.
