Hooves sounded beside his head, solid thumps through the insulation of his arms pressed over his ears. His breathing slowed. This was it.

A voice came from somewhere above, muffled through his charred sleeves.

‘Aye, fuck, bear, there you are! Hurry up and get aboard, will you?’

THIRTY-FIVE

Lemon sat on the driver’s bench of one of the troop wagons, a lone horse in the traces, skittish under her command. Chel looked up, blinking away smoke and disbelief.

‘How did you find me?’

‘Aye, you’re joking, eh? Look for the fuck-off explosions, there’s your wee bear, every time. Now are you coming or what?’

‘Where?’

‘Seriously, wee bear? You’re asking … Get the fuck aboard, will you?’

He hauled himself up beside her, the effort of lifting himself extraordinary and painful.

‘How—’

‘Later! Get in the back!’ She geed the horse, who was only too glad to be moving away from the giant burning ricks that surrounded them. They rumbled away over the broken ground, picking up speed, pulling out from behind the columns of oily smoke. Tents and shanty structures flew past, some smouldering; frantic church troops were milling between them.

‘There’s a big old bit of metal there, do you see it?’

‘Is this … Is this your kite?’

‘Later, wee bear, later! Grab that metal sheet and bring it up here.’

He dragged it up from the wagon floor, sliding it out from under the folded kite. He had no idea how she’d managed to get that aboard. The piece of black iron was heavy in his arms, a former armoured panel for one of their engines, its exposed mounting a decent handle. Shoulder screaming in its socket, he levered it to the driver’s bench.

‘What’s this for?’

‘I think we’re going to need it in a moment.’

‘Why?’

‘Because very soon they’re going to realize that we’re not on their side.’

Already the shouts were rising as they raced over the rough terrain, travelling faster than a wagon should, even in times of upheaval. Challenges went unanswered, and a moment later Chel saw crossbows ahead. Lemon steered the wagon for the roadway that led to the bridge, and Chel rolled the metal sheet around. A bolt thumped into the wagon’s side, a second pinged from Chel’s shield. He flinched, cursed, and the wagon kept rolling. His shoulder was screaming.

‘How did you … pull this off, Lemon?’

‘When I snagged the tether, I dropped what wee packages I had left there and then, not exactly the plan. Still, it went up like a fucken effigy, cleared the place out no bother. Then your lot went up over that way and the rest scattered. Found this wagon unattended, thought it might be prudent to see if you needed a lift.’

‘And you brought the kite?’

‘Aye. Now just keep that fucken shield up, bear, I am not dying here.’

‘What if they shoot the horse?’