There was shouting behind him, Camlin shuffling backwards to see what was happening while keeping Braith in his vision. Vonn and Rafe were circling one another warily.

Then Braith was coming at him again, blood sluicing from the wound in his hip. Another flurry of blows, high chops, swinging loops, all merging into a fluid assault, and a rushed retreat. Eventually they parted, a red line leaking blood across Camlin’s shoulder.

‘Last time you had to poison me to beat me,’ Braith said, face pale from blood loss, but his eyes were sharp, voice steady and calm. ‘What are you going to do this time, Cam? You’re not my match with a blade, we both know that.’

‘I’ll just have to think of something,’ Camlin muttered and darted in, his sword-point lunging straight at Braith’s heart, dropping the blade as Braith sideswiped a block, carrying on his lunge to score a red line across Braith’s ribs, cutting through leather and wool, blood seeping as he leaped back, away from Braith’s backswing.

‘Maybe I’ll just bleed you to death,’ Camlin said, circling Braith warily.

I’ve blooded him twice. Can’t believe I’ve done that. If only the Darkwood boys could’ve seen it. But luck doesn’t last long against Braith, and he’s right, he is better’n me. What I could do with is some help.

Camlin risked a quick glance at Vonn and Rafe, saw they were still circling one another. Camlin frowned. It sounded as if they were talking to each other.

‘Vonn,’ Camlin barked, ‘less talking, more killing.’ Then Braith was coming at him again. Camlin retreated before a withering combination of blows, his heart thudding in his ears, too fast to feel fear, just reacting, retreating, muscle and sinew straining as his whole body strived to avoid death. He held his blade two-handed, blocked another powerful blow that reverberated through his arms into shoulders and back, each blow weakening him a little more, his breath coming harder, his reactions a fraction slower. He saw a grim smile twitching Braith’s lips, knew the end was coming.

Something moved in the corner of Camlin’s eye, a stick spinning out of the mist and smacking into Braith’s head, the wood shattering in an explosion of splinters.

Meg emerged from the mist, threw another piece of rotted wood at Braith, striking him on the shoulder. It didn’t hurt Braith much, but it did give Camlin the opportunity he needed.

He turned and ran.