“Stay back!” The challenger’s voice rose in pitch. “Stay back!”

Crossbows appeared along the barricade and on the rooftops behind. Enough to rip the heart from any advance.

“Drakonback!” bellowed Izack. “Form drakonback!”

The Essamere ranks closed tight about Josiri, his shield locked tight between Izack’s to his left and another knight’s to his right. The sun turned dark as the second rank hoisted their shields high. And all of it without a missed step.

Only Viktor advanced alone. He hadn’t even drawn his sword.

“I know that voice!” His words echoed along the cramped street. “Moldrov! Is that you?”

An older man in a major’s uniform appeared on the barricade. He raised his hand, fingers skyward – the precursor to the signal to loose. “Don’t make me give the order, my lord!”

“A long time since we held the Ravonn together.”

“I remember it well.”

Viktor halted. “Then you know the only way to stop me is to shoot. You know what’s about to happen. Is that what we fought for on the border?”

Finally catching up to Viktor, the drakonback slowed to a stop. Josiri’s arm ached from holding the shield level. His shoulders were raw from the press of ill-fitting armour. Every breath tasted of metal-tinged sweat, and the sour exhalations of his fellows.

“They’re traitors!” shouted Moldrov. “And I hear you’re a witch.”

“Then where is the trial? Where is the proof?” The claymore scraped clear from its slings. “Shoot if you must. Otherwise, get out of my way.”

Josiri caught his breath. The overlaid shields of the drakonback would stop most quarrels. But Viktor . . . ?

Moldrov’s hand dropped. “Let them through.”

Josiri sighed his relief. Izack gave a grim chuckle.

“Bring him down!” A new voice rang out from the barricades. A Freemont hearthguard appeared on the crest. She pointed a quavering finger down at Viktor. “Bring them all down!”

Crossbows levelled anew in uncertain hands. Moldrov’s expression, suffused with reluctance a heartbeat before, grew hard. “I’ve made my decision.”

“Akadra’s a witch! Those with him are traitors!”

“Then they belong in the grove, with the other witches and traitors, don’t they?” He turned away, no longer addressing the furious hearth-guard, but his soldiers. “They go through.”

Izack tutted. “Shields down! It’s gone awful boring out here!”

The drakonback unfolded. Sunlight flooded in, bringing a welcome breeze to Josiri’s skin. Viktor started towards the barricade.

“No!”

The hearthguard rounded on the nearest kraikon. Her hand went to her control amulet. The bronze giant crackled to life. Soldiers scattering before it, the kraikon mounted the barricade.

Izack’s sword came up. “Until Death!”

“Until Death!” The knights surged forward, Josiri with them.

Behind the barricade, the second kraikon awoke. Letting its sword fall, it vaulted the barricade. Without slowing, it closed one hand about the first kraikon’s neck and planted the other in the small of its back.