A light ahead, bright in the darkness. Daylight, not torch or fire.

A spurt of speed from Sig, twenty paces behind the Kadoshim now. Ten. Cobwebs draped Sig’s face. Daylight loomed, bright and blinding, the Kadoshim a black silhouette.

Squinting into the white glare, Sig threw the spear. It arced forwards, trailing fire and smoke, and Sig saw the dark shadow of the Kadoshim tumble and fall. Moments later she burst out into a winter’s sun, a pale, cloud-choked morning almost blinding her.

They were on the hilltop with the squawking of disturbed crows, around them open air and the wind snatching at clothes, setting Sig’s blonde warrior braid fluttering. In the far distance she saw the stain of the Darkwood and the towers of Uthandun before it.

Rimmon rolled upon a flat patch of grass, the spear tangled between his legs, guttering black smoke. Sig swung her sword overhead, aiming to carve the beast in two. With a snarl the Kadoshim swept to the side, part-roll, part-beat of wings, a heartbeat later and he was upright, sword in his fist, though Sig saw one of the wings was twisted, like an injured arm. Malice radiated from the Kadoshim’s dark eyes.

With a snap, leathery wings were unfolding and Rimmon rose unsteadily into the air, a blast of wind rocking him, one wing leaking blood at the shoulder-joint. For a moment the Kadoshim hovered in the sky, the sun behind framing him in a luminous halo.

‘Finish this another time,’ Rimmon hissed. Another pulse of wings and the Kadoshim veered away, swerving through the air like a man after too much mead. He tested his wings, darted forwards again, well out of reach of Sig’s sword as the giant ran to the hill’s flat edge and swayed a moment, risking a long, bone-breaking tumble to the ground far below. The Kadoshim sank a little in the air, another beat of his wings taking him further away, though hugging the hillside.

‘I’d rather finish you now, Rimmon of the Kadoshim,’ Sig muttered.

She unclipped her net and swung it over her head, a whistling sound as the cord and weights in its four corners cut air, then she released it, high, arcing up and then down, dropping gracefully, corners spread.

The net folded around the Kadoshim, snaring his wings, wrapping around limbs, and Rimmon screeched, twisting in the air as he thrashed, spitting and biting, trying to tear his way free, but with every movement the cords snared tighter and the Kadoshim folded and plummeted to the ground.

Sig sheathed her sword across her back and launched herself over the edge, skidding and sliding down a grassy slope. She toppled and rolled a hundred paces, righted herself, saw the Kadoshim still falling, close to the hill’s base now.