The two guards who had already divested themselves of their weapons ran off across the grassy common, into the night. Another started shouting for the barrier to be lowered. He ran toward the gate of the villa, but when he passed through was caught up by the magical barrier and lifted into the air. He struggled in vain as his polearm was ripped out of his hands by invisible claws and thrown away.

“He’s bleeding,” the captain said, then wiped at his mouth with one hand. “He’s injured. Look at him! He can barely walk!”

The two remaining guards looked to each other. Then they dropped their weapons and fell to their knees. One of them started praying to the Lady for deliverance. The captain clouted him across the ear, and he fell over on his side.

“What’s wrong with you curs?” the captain demanded. “He’s just one man! I don’t care if he’s the king’s own champion, one man can’t stand against us all. Not if we fight together!” He grabbed at the arms of his charges, trying to drag them forward through sheer willpower.

Croy felt a burgeoning respect for the man grow in his breast. Had things been otherwise, if he had fought beside the captain on some battlefield, he might have called the fellow a hero. If he could avoid it, he very much wanted to keep this man alive, if only for the sake of honor.

But that meant convincing him to shirk his duty, now.

“They don’t want to die,” Croy said. He pointed his sword at the captain. “Do you? Do you feel such loyalty to the sorcerer that you’ll die for him?”

The captain tried to sneer. He failed. “I think I’m more than a match for one bleeding fool,” he said. But even he didn’t sound convinced.

Gurrh reached down and helped one of the kneeling guards to his feet. The man screamed and ran off. Apparently that didn’t violate the terms of the ogre’s curse. The other guard, the devout one, crawled away as if too terrified to run.

“Come no further, Sir Croy,” the captain said. He looked toward the villa, where the trapped guard still writhed in the grip of the magical barrier. “Bikker!” the captain shouted. “Bikker! You are needed!”

“Bikker’s a faithless coward,” Croy said. He took another step toward the captain. He lifted his sword and made his shield ring. “If he was going to help you, he would be here already.”

The captain brought his halberd up. Swung it around so the point faced Croy.