In that moment the girl suddenly threw herself from the saddle. Camran tried to grab her, missed and swung back to face the rider. In that briefest of moments the rider's cloak flickered. His arm came up. Two crossbow bolts slammed into the riders on either side of Okrian. The first pitched from the saddle, the second slumped forward, sliding over his horse's neck. Okrian heeled his mount forward and charged at the rider. Camran followed, his sabre extended. The man's left hand flashed forward. A shining streak of silver light sped through the air, punching through Okrian's left eye socket and into his brain. His body tipped back, his blade flying from his hand. Camran's sabre lanced out towards the assassin, but the man swayed in the saddle, the blade missing him by mere inches. Camran swung his mount.

Something struck him in the throat. Suddenly he couldn't breathe. Dropping his sword, his hand came up. Grabbing the hilt of the throwing knife, he dragged it clear of his flesh. Blood bubbled over his tunic. His horse reared, dumping him to the grass. As he lay there, choking on his own blood, a face appeared above his own.

It was the girl.

'I told you,' she said.

The dying man watched in horror as her bound hands lifted the blood-drenched throwing knife, raising it above his face. 'This is for the women,' she said.

And the blade swept down.

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