The paladin kicked her body aside. To the next soldier. The next foe. Two men rushed simultaneously, but a body thrown by the wild and savage Arn blasted one of them off his feet. Rayan made easy work of the other, suddenly alone and confused, opponent. He killed the first for good measure, though the man lay on his back with his eyes glazed and his thoughts clearly jumbled.

Next soldier, next foe, until his surroundings cleared and Rayan stepped out from the crowd. Ahead of him gathered the remaining soldiers sealing off that part of the intersection. Smoke billowed overhead as fires started in the homes behind the hanging platform spread eastward. More blazed farther behind them, at such speed he suspected some of Clarissa’s friends were responsible. Seemingly every building surrounding the execution grounds was aflame. A good plan, given how dire matters were. The greater the chaos, the more likely any of them made it out alive. Chaos and fury were the greatest counters to such an expertly laid trap.

“Fire behind you, death before you,” Rayan shouted to the nervous soldiers. “Make your choice!”

The ambush, the slaughter, the fires; it was all beyond anything they had trained for. Some fled east into the fire. Others held their ground. The majority, though, tried to charge Rayan and overwhelm him. He screamed back in protest to get his blood to pounding. If they thought him alone and easy prey, the arrival of Arn and Keles disabused them of such a notion. Together the three formed the bulwark against the onslaught, a thin line of soldiers planted into the crowd forming up on either side of them. They were poorly armed with knives and swords, but they needed only lurk and strike amid the fury of Thorda’s elite.

The battle here paled compared to that raging to the west, but that did not diminish the bloodshed. Rayan fought along the northern edge of it, steadily retreating as he cut down soldier after soldier. He would not allow them to overwhelm him, not when numbers were his foe’s only advantage. Arn didn’t even bother to retreat. He punched through their ranks, coating his gauntlets with blood and gore. Keles followed in his wake, cutting down any who still attempted to fight. They were a terrifying pair, and despite the mask covering her face, he could tell his niece was laughing.

Fight on, he thought, seeing the absolute carnage the pair unleashed. Let poets sing of this day, and of this betrayal turned into victory.