Good. Ark’s mind was now concentrated elsewhere. Even as his arm was turning solid, Petronio felt the breeze of opportunity, hoped the envoy could keep Ark talking. By his feet lay a discarded sword. The fingers that lay curled around the hilt would no longer need it in this world or the next. But he did. Petronio suddenly leaned forward and grabbed at the sword with his free hand.

The bark had crept beyond Petronio’s elbow, freezing all that was below into a gnarled wooden carving. It felt like his tendons were being torn in half, then remade into grain and splinter. A slight moan escaped his lips. He was terrified, not of dying but from knowing what he had to do next. The sword felt unfamiliar, wrong-handed.

“You will kill me again?” Ark asked.

“No!” screamed Petronio, the adrenaline flying through his veins. Did he have the courage? Only one way to find out as the sword swung up and around in a swift arc, straight toward his arm. “No!” screamed Petronio again as the well-honed blade did as it was told, snicking at skin, severing tendons and shearing through bone until all that Ark held in his hands was a half-wooden, half-bleeding limb that had once belonged to Petronio Grasp.

It was hard to tell who was more shocked. Petronio swayed on the spot, the sword in his remaining hand challenging anyone nearby as blood poured from the stump of his upper arm. He retreated toward Fenestra. “Stay away!” he snarled to his enemies.

The other soldiers stepped back, half admiring the mad courage of a lad who was willing to hack off his own arm to save his life.

Now it was the envoy’s turn to act. She was standing right by the trapdoor that had sprung two soldiers into the air. A breeze blew through the gap, sweetening the already stale scent of blood. She reached toward the boy and wrapped him almost tenderly in her long arms.

She paused briefly. “Mark my words. Maw will crush your tiny country! This is but the beginning!” With that, she stepped out into the hole made by the trapdoor spring. Then they were gone.

Mucum ran forward, but the hole had swallowed them almost as if they had never been. The other soldiers were already clustered around, annoyed that the figurehead of the invasion had so easily escaped them.

“Nothing would survive that fall!” one of them muttered.

Ark strode over, his sharp eyes peering down. Below lay a sheer drop, broken only by the odd branches radiating out like spokes on a wagon wheel. In the dark, he could not be sure, but was that the envoy’s cloak flaring out around her as they plummeted down? Never mind. They were no threat now.

“Are you all right, mate?” Mucum was breathing heavily, trying not to take in the destruction all around them.

“I think so. How’s Little Squirt?”