Something slammed into her shoulder and sent her sprawling. She kept hold of the spear, just, as her hip slammed into the stone and she rolled away from the direction of impact. Footsteps thudded around her – whoever had hit her had kept their footing and run on, heedless. The woman chasing them, however, did not. She had a scarlet feather in her hair, bloody in the orange light like the edge of the glass axe that arced for Xessa’s face.

Xessa rolled again, twice. Glass chips sprayed her back and the side of her neck as the axe head splintered on the stone. She lashed out with her good foot and caught the side of the warrior’s knee, collapsing it. The woman fell towards Xessa and turned it into another attack. The eja grabbed at her axe hand and missed again, forearm slamming against forearm instead. The woman landed hard on her, crushing her lungs, but Xessa got her other hand up and around her throat and twisted, shoving her away, scrambled to her feet and snatched up her spear and stabbed her, three quick thrusts in and out of the belly. Enough.

Stepped back into shattered obsidian and yowled, even the toughness of her sole no match for that sharpness. Looked for Toxte or her father. Started moving again, beginning to shake.

More enemies sprinting across a plaza stained dark with blood in sweeps and swathes, piles of bodies twitching, others still, yet more crawling, dragging, limping. She passed a group of Tokob throwing down weapons and dropping to their knees before the enemy.

Xessa looked around at the carnage, now lit up by a golden-edged dawn, and sucked in a breath. There’d be no more running today; there was nowhere left to go. Fight, then. Fight or die.

Probably fight and die. No one was giving orders; no one could tell her what to do. Toxte had vanished, despite his promise before all this madness started: I will never leave you.

But you did, she thought, adrenaline burning away the tears that filled her eyes. You have. She wondered if it would be better or worse to die next to her husband and knew she’d never find out. She set out again, hobbling, only the mad swirl of battle screening her from the enemy. Ossa, red with gore and slower even than her, limped at her side. She knew he wouldn’t be left behind, no matter how badly hurt he was. They needed each other. No destination in mind, nothing but the imperative to find someone, anyone, that she loved and stand over them, protect them for as long as she could.

Fight, Xessa. There’s nothing left but the fight. Make your ancestors proud.