There was a heartbeat that felt like an eternity as he was weightless, flying, legs scissoring, then, with a solid thump he was in the saddle, hands reaching for the reins and Shield was angling away, pounding through a gap in the approaching riders and then he was free, galloping across open space along the front of Jael’s warband, wind whipping his black hair out behind him like a banner.

Some of Jael’s warband were actually cheering him.

Behind him the sound of screams rose up as Storm tore her target from his saddle and ripped him apart.

He guided Shield in a loop, slowing to a canter, glimpsed Storm leaping and snapping amidst the riders sent to kill him, saw spears rising and falling and felt a hot rage bubble up. From Drassil warriors were still pouring, Jehar on horseback amongst them, hundreds charging across the open space. Horns were blaring along the lines of Jael’s warband and suddenly they were lurching into movement, stuttering forwards.

The plan was to stay atop the battlements, let their warband break upon the walls of Drassil. Guess we’ll need a new plan.

He heard Storm growling and snapping, saw horses rearing and plunging around her.

With a snarl he drew his sword and urged Shield back to a gallop.

CHAPTER EIGHTY-ONE

ULFILAS

I have a bad feeling about this.

‘Charge them, charge them, kill them!’ Jael was screeching close to Ulfilas’ ear.

The warband was moving, but sluggishly.

They are still reeling from what we have just witnessed. And in truth I do not blame them for being hesitant about joining battle with these people.

Ulfilas was still coming to terms with what he’d seen.

The greatest duel between two men that I have ever witnessed – maybe that has ever happened. I cannot believe that Sumur lost. It had been like witnessing two storms collide at sea, a maelstrom of furious, deadly movement, utterly beautiful to watch. At first it had seemed an inevitability that Corban would die – he was an exceptional warrior, clearly, but Sumur had seemed too perfect, too clinical, too fast and powerful, but then, slowly, almost by sheer, dogged will and determination, Corban had edged back into the fight, gone from just trying to stay alive for a few moments longer to having a slim chance, and finally, mostly by a combination of heart and wits and a general stubborn refusal to die, had taken Sumur’s head.

And what the hell was that thing that came out of Sumur?

‘What are you DOING?’ Jael was screaming at him, almost apoplectic with rage. ‘Lead the warband forward; you are my bannerman.’

Don’t you think you should be leading them? You’re our King.