‘Come out, come out,’ Gulla chanted, laughing, the acolytes taking up the cry, ringing out as they spread through the clearing, turning, searching. A whisper of wings, and Gulla’s children took to the air. With a victorious cry they spotted Sig and Drem and sped towards them. One was faster, the female. She thrust a spear down at them. Sig pushed Drem out of its way and grabbed the spear, pulling the half-breed Kadoshim down to her, grabbing a fist-full of leathery wing and then she was dragging herself upright, gripping the wing with both hands, setting her feet and twisting, turning, swinging the half-breed, smashing it with all of her prodigious strength into the roof, an explosion of turf, the creature loose-limbed for a few heartbeats and then Drem kicked it in the stomach, sending it rolling off the roof.

An ear-splitting shriek and its brother was swooping towards them, wings tight as it dived, a sword in its hand. A whistle of air past Sig’s ear and a spear was suddenly sprouting from the half-breed’s chest. He swerved away, wings beating weakly, and then the wings folded and he crashed to earth.

Below them Gulla screamed.

‘Ulfang!’

A roar of rage from the acolytes below as they surged towards the building Sig and Drem were standing upon.

Sig looked at Drem.

‘Sometimes the only answer is blood and steel,’ he said.

‘Ach, but you’re Olin’s boy, and no denying.’ Sig grinned.

‘I loved my da,’ Drem said.

Sig glanced quickly around, eyes lingering on the dark alleys that led to the wall, only a fast sprint away.

We could make a break for it. Would just need to get over the wall and to the trees beyond. To Hammer.

The beating of wings, and Gulla’s daughter reappeared, her hand snaking out and grabbing Drem’s ankle, heaving.

For a moment he teetered on the edge of the roof, and then he fell.

Sig’s longsword hissed into her hand.

‘TRUTH AND COURAGE,’ she bellowed as she leaped into the crowd of acolytes surging around Drem, baying for their blood.

She swung her sword with both hands as she fell, carving a bloody path through leather, flesh and bone, the momentum turning her so that she crashed into a new mass of shaven-haired zealots, flattening some, breaking bones, scattering more. Drem was on the ground, pushing himself to his knees.