He was good. The realization frightened her, but she pushed it away as they circled each other. Fear now would only get her killed. Taking a deep, calming breath, Twelve reminded herself that she was good too, more than good. With a yell, she leaped forward. The goblin feinted left before driving Seven’s dagger straight at her stomach. Twelve’s crossed axes slammed over the blade, knocking it from his hand. A swift, hard kick knocked him back a step, and his hand reached for the sword sheathed at his hip. Its pommel was a beautifully carved fox.

The fox must stay muzzled.

The memory of Seven’s whispered words filled her with sudden certainty: something awful would happen if she let him draw his sword. Tamping down her terror, she surged forward, her axes a whirling blur that drove him back and threw him off balance. She lunged again, slicing through his sword belt, sending his weapon tumbling to the ground. His yell of fury was deeply satisfying, but, before Twelve could make her next move, an arrow came out of nowhere to embed itself in his shoulder. With an agonized scream, he dodged away from her and was swallowed by the battling crowd. Twelve turned to see Six with his bow raised.

“Thanks!” Twelve gasped, a rush of adrenaline making her hands shake.

“We’re nearly there!” Five cried, pointing to the armory.

He was right. Dog had almost cleared a path and the Hunters were right behind him, fighting their way through the goblin lines. Twelve almost cheered, then she noticed something that made her voice catch in her throat. The Hunters were bunched up behind the Guardian, and the goblins were circling behind them, surrounding them.

“Hoarfrost!” Twelve yelled, but it was no good. He’d never hear her over the cacophony of battle noise.

“This could get extremely nasty,” Six muttered, seeing what she was looking at. “If we don’t break through to the armory soon . . .”

“Dog will get us there,” Five said with confidence, pulling them forward, back into the tide of Hunters.

The Guardian was unstoppable, surging back and forth through the goblin lines, knocking them aside as easily as if they were dominoes. He threw himself into the fray to defend a Hunter who had nearly been overwhelmed by her opponent and then bounded away to do the same for another.

Victory’s voice rose over the training ground. “Bolases prepare!” she roared, springing out of the way as Dog raced past her.

Twelve felt a whisper of doubt as she tried to remember what a bolas was. An old weapon, very much out of fashion: a chain with two weights at either end. What could Victory possibly want that for?

Twelve realized a moment too late.

“Dog, no!” she cried, horror searing through her. He had sprung out of the press of bodies into an open space to see where he was needed. Victory seized her chance.