With a snarl Lykos pulled the knife away, left a thin cut in Maquin’s cheek. Sweat stung it. Maquin blinked, saw Lykos turn away and snatch the torch from his shieldman.

‘Perhaps a tickle of flame will coax something more from you,’ Lykos hissed. He held the torch between them, inched it closer to Maquin’s belly. He smelt the hairs on his body burning first, heat washing him in waves, felt the almost irresistible urge to move, to step away.

I cannot move, I am held fast. And to move, to scream, is to fail.

Sweat beaded his brow, dripped from his nose.

Lykos smiled and moved the flame nearer, just a fraction, but the pain surged and Maquin felt his skin start to blister. A groan escaped his mouth, a wave of pain behind it desperate to find release in screaming abandon.

He clamped his mouth shut.

‘I should have tried this sooner,’ Lykos said, leaning close to Maquin, studying him. Willing him to break.

‘Scream, damn you,’ Lykos snarled, the frustration growing in the Vin Thalun with every passing heartbeat. He twisted a fist into Maquin’s matted hair.

Not in this lifetime you bastard.

A voice spoke behind Lykos. ‘My lord, burns like that may kill him; at the very least he will not be able to ride on the morrow—’

‘You’ll be surprised what this man can do,’ Lykos said. He took a step closer, the flame no longer a ripple of pain now, just a constant, searing agony. Maquin smelt his own flesh burning. He opened his eyes, saw Lykos’ face hovering in front of him, that hateful face, smiling, eyes bitter and full of malice.

Maquin lunged forwards, for a moment taking his guards by surprise, too focused on holding him up to hold him back. His mouth opened, a huge roar escaping his throat, echoing around the room and then he snapped his mouth shut, teeth closing on Lykos’ face – his nose, part of one cheek.

He bit down hard, ground his teeth into flesh, felt blood burst into his mouth, hot and salty. He shook his head like a wolven with a hare in its jaws.

Lykos screamed, high and piercing.

He was a lot quicker to scream than I.

Then Maquin felt a rush of heat sear his face, flame shooting up between him and Lykos. Maquin’s lunge had squashed the torch to them both, ignited Lykos’ linen shirt.

Good – let’s see how you like it!

Lykos screamed again. He was sobbing and trying to pull away.

Something crashed into the back of Maquin’s skull and his legs turned to liquid. He sagged to his knees, blood slick upon his lips and chin, saw Lykos fall backwards, dropping the torch and slapping desperately at his burning shirt.