Some of the men had fashioned sacks, which they carried over their shoulders, and the women hefted the pouches they'd brought with them. They'd been scrabbling at the dirt for days, gathering up the small pebbles and specks of gravel. They now poured their sacks out on top of the heatplate.

Amber spoke some more words, invoking the power she'd built into her device. She was forced to step back further, and the gravel began to glow a fearsome red.

As she knew would happen, Amber's plan now dissolved into chaos, and all she could do was pray and do her part.

Prisoners ran forward with their wooden food bowls and dug at the gravel on top of the heatplate, heedless of the burns on their hands as they made a weapon from the most mundane of substances. Guards moved against the rising prisoners and began to tear and slice, cutting down men and women alike, blood splashing over them.

Amber saw a prisoner run forward and fling out his arm, tossing the contents of his bowl at a soldier in a spray of red-hot stones. The soldier screamed in agony as the fiery substance hit the metal of his armour, burning his eyes and getting into his hair. The prisoner ran forward and after a brief tussle stood holding the guard's sharp steel sword. The prisoner then ran the guard through, blood gushing from the black-clad soldier's mouth.

Men and women everywhere were emptying the contents of their bowls at the guards, and Amber realised the power of a weapon any fool could use. She knew though that the heatplate wouldn't last long. What they were doing was a great distraction, but without Rogan's men the revolt would be ruthlessly crushed; the prisoners were simply too weak for a sustained fight.

Amber hurriedly took the glass bowl she'd enchanted. She looked out at the closest of the sentry towers. Rogan didn't know Amber, and was unwilling to risk his men in an attack without timing it to her signal. Amber needed to raise the green light now.

"Fight!" Lina cried. "It's now or never!"

All around them prisoners were grappling with guards, the soldiers taken aback at the ferocity of their captives.

Darting between them, Amber ran towards the guard tower, the glass bowl clutched to her chest. A ladder ran up the side of the tower to a small platform, where two guards were throwing orbs down at the prisoners.

An explosion tore the earth apart just ten paces in front of her, knocking Amber to the ground and she realised the glass bowl was no longer in her hands. Where was it? There! She ran at it when a man in black stepped in front of her; a mailed fist smashed into her stomach. Amber crumpled to the ground.