Vonn was ahead of him. He had no shield and so was sending controlled strokes at ankles and heads. Beside him Brogan roared into the fray, face twisted like a madman, swinging an overhead blow crashing into a shield with such force that the rim crumpled, his blade carrying on to crush a helm. The warrior collapsed, dead or unconscious. Brogan leaped over him as he roared a battle-cry.

With his left hand Camlin pulled a knife from his belt and joined the battle.

Baird was retreating before a man who knew how to use his shield. Camlin stepped in close on the man’s flank and stabbed his sword behind the shield, felt it scrape along knuckles and flesh.

The warrior lowered his shield, blood dripping from the rim and lunged wildly at Camlin. Baird punched his sword-point into the warrior’s face and he collapsed in an explosion of bone and brains. Two of Drust’s men were battering at an enemy, pushing him back into the doorway of the tower. There was a hissing noise and suddenly a spear sprouted through one of Drust’s warriors, dropping him. Camlin glanced behind, searching for the spear-thrower. He was standing on the walkway of the palisade, over a hundred paces away, three or four other warriors in black and gold about him.

Hell of a throw, that.

The battle here was moving inside the feast-hall, only a handful of Morcant’s men left. Camlin grabbed Vonn, Brogan and Baird and pointed to the men on the wall. With only a fierce grin from Brogan they set off running, Camlin stooping to retrieve his bow.

A hundred paces closer and Camlin saw the warrior who had cast the spear take his comrade’s spear. Camlin skidded to a halt, drew an arrow as he saw the warrior aim for Camlin’s comrades. Camlin sucked in a breath, held it, drew back the arrow until the feathers brushed his cheek, then released.

Camlin’s arrow hit the man at the base of his throat, just above the rim of his cuirass. He crashed back a couple of paces into the wall and toppled over it. Then Brogan and Baird were charging up the stairs, Vonn right behind them. Camlin launched another arrow before they clashed, sending another warrior in black and gold reeling. He slung his bow and ran, drawing his sword as he reached the stairs. By the time he made it to the top the remaining enemy were dead, Vonn, Baird and Brogan all blood-spattered and breathing heavily.

The sun had risen fully now. Inside the hold the clash of arms still rang out, but it was the sound of only a few men.

It is done. We’ve taken it. Camlin gave his friends a savage grin. ‘We’ve done it, lads.’