‘I’m not sure . . .’ Her sister, normally so arrogant and sure of herself, looked shaken. ‘We’re under attack. Mother and father hadn’t been home long when the alarm was raised. They ran out to fight . . .’

With her cloak clasped firmly at her neck, Ylva began to stride out of the front door. She turned to Liska before stepping outside. ‘You should stay. It might be dangerous out there.’

‘I’ve seen a battle before!’ Liska shouted.

‘Not like this,’ said Ylva. ‘I haven’t got time to argue. Close the door after me and stay put.’

With a flap of her cloak, Ylva was off, her footsteps echoing as she ran up the stairs outside the apartment. Liska waited a few seconds, until her sister was definitely gone, and then headed out of the door herself.

*

Feet pounding on the worn stone, Liska raced up the spiral steps of the Noon Fort; round and round until she emerged on the roof with its flagpoles and launching platforms jutting out all around like stocky, stone diving boards.

There were shapewalkers everywhere, in human and beast form and everything in between. Shifting from one to the other, leaping off the platforms with wings outstretched, or loading and firing the giant crossbow-like ballistae at targets down below.

Captains stood at the battlements yelling orders through megaphones. Signallers waved coloured flags, sending messages to the shapewalker troops who were already airborne.

Liska ran to the edge and peered out from the battlements.

Despite the glare from the signal fire, it was still night. A star-speckled sky, complete with gibbous moon, served as a backdrop for the battle.

Looking down, Liska could see the boiling waves of magically created mist that helped to protect Arborven. Looming out of it were moving shapes: heads, shoulders and arms of giant things.

Gorgaunts, Liska thought. Like the one that had tried to come through the tunnel the other day. These ones must have climbed the mountains, hauling themselves up with their fungous, rotting limbs. Now they clung to the rocks, flinging handfuls of . . . of what?

One of the missiles exploded against the granite at the foot of the tower, directly below Liska’s vantage point. She looked down to see a giant-sized handful of that grey, smoking sludge that the rot was made of. As she watched, it congealed, shaping itself into something roughly human-sized.

‘They’re throwing seepers at us!’ Liska shouted. The thing that had been launched by the gorgaunt turned to the tower and began trying to climb its way up, slapping its sticky hands and feet against the stone. Luckily a flying manticore spotted it and swooped down, ripping it to pieces with its fierce front paws.

‘The north and west of the city is under attack,’ said a shapewalker next to her. He was loading a crossbow, ready to shoot from the battlements with it. ‘The commander thinks they’re testing our defences.’