Shouts and battle-cries drew his eyes back to the river before him. About a dozen of Edana’s warriors were spread along this side of the bank with him, some doing the same as him. Others ran forward as Evnis’ men began to reach the banks, some leaping, others swimming, not every boat on fire – some further back were not touched at all.

Damn, but there’s a lot of them. Five hundred at least is my guess. Those weren’t good odds, as Edana’s warband numbered less than two hundred swords.

Mind you, we’re evening the odds a little, now.

Spears began to fly, going both ways, and Camlin ducked as one hissed a handspan over his head.

He started aiming at men now, planting flaming arrows in chests, throats, backs, thighs, at least a dozen men falling to his aim before a handful of warriors reached the bank and charged at his clump of reeds.

Time to leave.

He grabbed his quiver of arrows, half-empty now, slung it over his back, waited a few moments as his enemy drew nearer, until he heard them crunching into the reeds, and then he grabbed a clay pot and threw it as he ran the other way, heard it smash down upon the small fire he had set, then the sucking in of air, like an indrawn breath before flames exploded, ripping through the reeds and scorching the onrushing warriors.

More screaming.

He flew out of the reeds, hearing flames rushing up behind him, and hurled himself out onto the lakeshore, rolling amongst abandoned huts. He came to his feet alone, the sounds of battle raging along the various streams and rivers behind him, and more dimly from the drowned fortress in the lake. He took a moment to stare, worry for Edana gnawing at him.

Fires dotted the lake, like bobbing candles on the water.

I bet it’s not so pretty right close, though. As he watched, he saw one of the empty boats that they’d packed with jars of fish oil and dried rushes shoved with long poles into an enemy rowing boat, hulls crunching together, a torch thrown in after it. The vessel went up in flames, quickly setting the enemy boat on fire.

More screaming.

Think there’s going to be a lot of that today.

Many of Evnis’ boats were aflame, and Camlin could see shapes in the water – men swimming for land. Some of Evnis’ vessels had made it to Dun Crin’s walls and warriors were scrambling onto the cold stone. Camlin heard the clash of iron drifting across the lake.

There were only sixty warriors of Edana’s warband on the sunken walls, the other hundred or so ranging the rivers and stream banks, where they’d hoped to contain the bulk of the enemy warband, and where they thought the fiercest fighting would be.

And talking of fighting . . .