A shape appeared out of dense bush above the riverbank. At first Paddy thought it was a kangaroo, a big eastern grey that had been trapped against the steep bank by the appearance of men and horses and was now making a bolt for higher ground, but he paused in mid-stride as he realised this was no kangaroo. He watched as the man lifted a pistol and started down Moonlight’s flank. He was a big man and a full, unkempt beard obscured his face, but Paddy knew he had seen this man before.

Anderson.

Undetected by Toby, the bushranger closed to within three paces and aimed the revolver at the back of his head. In the next moment the man who had murdered Paddy’s parents would take his brother from him.

His musket was still in its scabbard and would take too long to retrieve. Paddy filled his lungs to shout a warning and instantly the pain flared in the side of his head. Any noise he made died in the back of his throat, little more than a rasping hiss.

Anderson closed to a pace from Toby, the pistol almost touching the back of his head. Paddy drew another breath and opened his mouth. As he let the air rush through his throat, he felt the blinding agony tighten its grip on his mind. He managed to tense his throat muscles, to tighten his neglected vocal chords to a point where they might make some kind of noise, but the throbbing flared into a blinding pulse of agony. Stars swam in his vision and he felt the tension go out of his throat as his voice was taken from him and that horrible hiss began.

His eyes wide with terror, the air still running up his windpipe, he felt a deep anger that filled him with the strength only a wild rage can summon. As the anger gripped him, Paddy took control of it and turned it inwards, into the shadowy recesses of his mind where the pain dwelled. The malignant force was powerless to resist.

With this new-found strength of will, Paddy tensed his vocal chords. His breath ran hard through his throat and his voice boomed out loud along the riverbank.

‘Toby, look out!’

Toby spun around at the warning. He had no time to look for the owner of that strangely familiar voice, for he was immediately confronted by a pistol only inches from his face, the muzzle appearing as large as a cave and the knuckle of the finger through the trigger guard beginning to whiten as it took up the tension. Instinctively, he threw up his arm and knocked the pistol aside as it discharged. A blast of heat from the muzzle singed his face. The ball passed a quarter of an inch from his ear, his eardrum almost rupturing at the roar of noise.