Chel ran at the guards, who shrank back. Ignoring the acid burning in his legs, he jumped past them, up onto the window-ledge, pulling himself up to the shallow balcony beyond. The chill wind blew thickening rain against him in the sudden cold of the tower exterior, and somewhere thunder rumbled. He tried to fix his gaze on the horizon, keep his eyes well away from the swooning drop to the bridge and the gurgling waters beneath. He could hear the stomp and clop of the column below, its sounds blown up and around him, and the shouts of the surprised guards in the hallway interior.

There, a bloodied mark on the stone ahead: a footprint, and another beyond it. Before the guards could reach him, Chel turned and grabbed for the stone. Focusing only on one grip at a time, one bloodied mark ahead, he began to climb up and around the tower. The wind howled in his ears, blasting gusts of sharp rain over him, leaving the tower stone slick and darkened. He kept his eyes on the bloodied marks, the smears of Rennic’s own climb, forcing his aching muscles to comply while his pulse hammered in his ears. The summit was in sight, a rail of thin stone at the top of his curling path. Greedily he snatched for it, hauling himself up, feet scrabbling, desperate at last to be back on something solid.

The rail gave, a crumbling chunk of stone left in his fist as he felt himself dropping. The empty air yawned beneath him, the sudden yank on his other arm jarring his shoulder, dragging it free, even as his feet scraped in vain for grip against the tower.

A hand snatched his forearm, arresting his slip, jolting his straining shoulder. Another hand clapped over it, then dragged him up and over the crumbling rail. He collapsed to his knees on the rain-slick stone beyond as Rennic stood over him, thick streaks of black washing from his ash-clouded hair in the hastening rain.

‘Thought I’d come up to greet you. Really half-arsed this restoration work, eh?’

From somewhere below came the sound of hammering. The guards were trying to get through the stout door. Chel concentrated on his breathing, trying to suppress the ugly throb from his shoulder, the rain-cut soaking of his clothes.

‘Besides,’ Rennic said, moving to the tower-top’s far side, where a ladder led to the chamber below. ‘It’s a better shot from up here.’

He hefted the crossbow once more as Chel struggled to his feet, flicking rain water from his eyes. Over the lip of the rail, he saw the column spread along the length of the bridge. Tarfel had to be somewhere beneath them right now, riding proud through the rain in his glittering armour, oblivious to the danger that loomed overhead.