But the Andii was off again. A bellow from the dark announced Coots. More iron rang and clashed. Curses and orders sounded out from a knot of men Jethiss was now closing upon. A line of raiders set shields as he came. The Andii jumped at the last instant, planted his feet square upon one shield and knocked its owner backwards. He fell within the knot and the line broke apart as the men turned for him. Fisher arrived and hacked down one fellow in an inelegant two-handed blow. Then all was the chaos of churning groups of men and women in the dark, some running, some closing upon him.

He fought using strong hacking blows that knocked aside shields and parrying swords – this was not a battle for the finer points of swordmanship. An axeman charged him, his two-handed double-edged weapon held high to split him in half. Arrows flashed between them, shot from both sides. Fisher sidestepped the blow then swung in to take the man at the back of his neck, severing his spine.

He spun then, turning to all sides: he recognized Genabackans together with a mishmash of others. Some looked like nothing more than casual bandits, while others were armed and armoured as mercenaries.

One of these, in thick layered leathers and iron helmet, charged him now, shield-bashing him. He took the blow but tripped, falling on to his back. The man raised his shortsword then coughed, hunching. Staring up at what he thought was his death, Fisher saw a dark wet arrowhead standing from the man’s chest. The fellow toppled on to him.

Fisher heaved the man off. Close now, face to face, he saw that the raider was of Lether. Stunned, he forgot the roaring and stamping feet surrounding him. Great Burn, no. Was this Teal’s work? Was the marshal somewhere among this force? Was … Malle? But no – they’d gone to such pains to remain friendly. Other adventurers from Lether must have arrived, surely.

Feet scuffed the dirt nearby and he started, twisting around. Jethiss stood over him scanning the dark. ‘You are hurt?’

Fisher climbed to his feet. ‘No.’ He peered around: the raiders were decamping, leaving dead and wounded to lie where they fell. Badlands came racing into sight as he chased after them into the woods. Fisher nodded to Jethiss. ‘You are good with those blades.’

The Andii was in no way flattered. He glanced away, troubled. ‘Not that I wish to be.’

Coots approached the main gate where the archers crowded, backlit by the burning keep. ‘Hello there!’ he shouted. ‘We’ve run them off! You can—’

‘Bastard Iceblood!’ someone shouted.

Bowfire sounded. Coots grunted and stepped backwards as if absorbing several blows.

Fisher charged for him, yelling, ‘No!’

‘Hey now,’ Coots slurred, almost chidingly, ‘that’s no way—’ More blows rocked the man. He half spun, fell to one knee. ‘That’s …’ The archers fired almost continuously now. Arrow after arrow punched into Coots. ‘Hey … now …’ he said, sounding very disappointed. He tumbled backwards.