Maquin and Alben were standing before the torch now, legs bent, a weapon in each hand. Vin Thalun were circling them, at least half a dozen, hanging back. Bodies littered the floor. Then Maquin did the unthinkable. He charged them. Fidele heard herself shout his name, saw him wade into the warriors, who were instinctively flinching away from him. He spun amongst them, leaving in his wake trailing arcs of black blood. For a moment Alben stood frozen, then he followed Maquin and hurled himself at the enemy.

For a few heartbeats she thought they were going to do it. Men were falling or staggering away, Maquin and Alben in constant movement, death-dealing wraiths, but then more Vin Thalun appeared from the alleys. The sound of marching feet sounded in the street, yet more running up from their fires by the main gates. Maquin took a blow on the shoulder, staggering him. Alben was hit in the back and he dropped to one knee, another blow sending him sprawling to the ground. Maquin stood over his fallen comrade, sword and knife black with blood, for a few moments holding back the enemy.

Fidele watched, praying to Elyon, her fist tight around the hilt of her knife. Peritus sighted with his spear and threw, his aim true. His spear struck a Vin Thalun through the chest, sending him crashing back. It did little good, though, more Vin Thalun crowding in upon Maquin and Alben.

Then another figure appeared from the darkness, broad and hulking.

The giantess.

She swung something in her hands, long and sinuous. A chain. It smashed into the figures crowding around Maquin and Alben, sent them flying like straw targets on the weapons court. Then the giantess was throwing Alben over her shoulder and running for the wall, Maquin retreating behind her.

Vin Thalun swarmed after them, but as soon as they were in range a hail of spears from the guards on the walls lacerated them. Those that didn’t die scurried back to the shadows. Maquin was shouting from below and then Krelis and a dozen men were tugging on the rope. The giantling loaned his strength and weight, pulling with all his might. The rope creaked, strained and moved.

Alben appeared first, still slumped across the giantess’ shoulder. Hands pulled him onto the walkway, then the giantess was over, Maquin behind her. Fidele pushed her way through the milling warriors to Maquin. He was close to Alben, shouting for help. At her voice his eyes snapped onto her. His hand reached out and squeezed her tight.

‘Told you . . . I’d come back,’ he said, still breathing hard.

More Vin Thalun were in the street, but they kept a healthy distance. Then a face appeared amongst them that she would never forget.

Lykos.

He stood there as still as stone, looking at the wall. His eyes fixed on the giantess, a combination of rage and fear twisting his features. Then he saw her.