Paran twisted round.

A wing of Moranth – no more than specks – were sailing over the city, east to west.

Six condors were climbing to meet them – but they had a long way to go.

Smaller specks dropped from the Moranth, down onto the east half of the city.

Their descent seemed to take for ever, then the first one struck the roof of a building. The explosion shattered the roof and upper floor. All at once, detonations trembled as cusser after cusser struck.

Sorcery swept from the six condors, raced up towards the distant Moranth.

Bombs expended, the wing scattered. None the less, more than a score did not escape the sorcerous wave.

Smoke and dust shrouded the east side of Coral.

Above the captain and the squad, the remaining condors screamed with rage.

‘That worked, more or less,’ Quick Ben whispered. ‘Those streets were likely packed solid with Pannion soldiers.’

‘Not to mention,’ Paran gritted, ‘the rest of the Bridgeburners.’

‘They’d have withdrawn by now.’

Paran heard the effort in the wizard’s hopeful tone.

A cusser had struck the street fifty paces behind Picker and her decimated squads, less than ten paces behind the K’Chain Che’Malle K’ell Hunter that had been closing on them. The undead creature was obliterated by the blast, its mass absorbing most of the lethal, flailing rain of shattered cobbles.

Fragments of withered skin, flesh and splinters of bone pattered down almost within reach of the Bridgeburners.

Picker raised a hand to call the soldiers to a halt. She was not alone in needing to catch her breath, to wait until her hammering heart slowed somewhat.

‘That makes a damned change,’ Blend gasped at the lieutenant’s side.

Picker did not bother replying, but she could not help but agree with Blend’s bitter comment. As Paran had instructed, they had indeed drawn the attention of at least some of the K’Chain Che’Malle.

And had paid for it.

Her last count had sixteen Bridgeburners capable of combat and six wounded, of whom three were at Hood’s Gate. The K’Chain Che’Malle were more than fast, they were lightning. And relentless. Sharpers did little more than irritate them.

In any case, the munitions were gone. Picker had turned her soldiers back on one of the K’ell Hunters, to gauge their chances in a close-in fight. She would not do that again. They’d been lucky to disengage at all. Seeing friends on all sides cut into pieces where they stood was an image that would haunt her all her remaining days – days? I haven’t got days. I’ll be surprised if we live out this bell.

‘Hood take us, another one!’

The lieutenant wheeled at the shout.

Another Hunter had appeared from a side alley, claws scraping on cobbles, head hunched low, blades out.

Less than fifteen paces away, head swinging to face them.

All right . . . heartbeats, then.

‘Scatter!’