‘Let’s take this chance!’ roared Hirad. ‘Push it on, straight to the College. Come on!’

Falling back in pre-ordered form, the Julatsan city guard closed ranks as the whole force began slowly to relinquish the corridor while maintaining the integrity of its shortening length. They had been trained for just such action. Drilled for years in fighting street to street, falling back in safety to the next bottle-neck when required and striking out in guerrilla action to weaken and demoralise attacking forces, the guard moved efficiently to the College.

Inside the cordon, The Raven ran the line of city folk, cajoling, urging and encouraging while Ilkar’s moving HardShield, joined shortly after by those of Denser and Erienne, provided significant protection from the arrows that fell sporadically into the running crowd.

Hirad knew the building collapses wouldn’t hold the Wesmen for long and already, as the desultory arrow drop indicated, they were finding their way along parallel alleys, though not in sufficient numbers to overwhelm the well-drilled Julatsan city guard who had beaten off all attempts thus far. But there was one point where weakness in their line was inevitable and, glancing back to see the retreat under control, he made his decision.

‘Unknown!’ he called above the cries and screams of the crowd and the barked orders of the guard Captains. ‘The southern market.’

The Unknown nodded. ‘Raven! Raven with me!’ Dropping their shields, the trio of mages formed up behind the warrior pair and ran for the open space of Julatsa’s southern market place where, in peaceful times, grain and fresh produce were traded.

It was asway with people, the yelling of soldiers, the running of the old and the young and the clash of weapons as the Wesmen battered at the slim line of defence, heedless of the spells that dropped death on their defenceless bodies.

Hirad headed left across the market where the Julatsan line was being pushed back, not needing to check if The Raven were with him. In front of him, he could see hundreds of Wesmen spilling into a wide access street and running to the attack. Facing them, two dozen Julatsan guard and a pair of mages, one of whom was maintaining a HardShield as occasional bouncing arrows indicated.

‘Denser, we need FlameOrbs. Ilkar, relieve the shield mage. Erienne, whatever you’ve got to keep them back. Unknown, with me.’ Hirad ran into the centre of the line, pulled an injured man away with his left arm and swung his blade right-handed and overhead, feeling the metal crash through the shoulder of his target. Behind him as he squared up, he heard The Unknown issuing instructions to the Julatsan squad leader.

‘Take half your men and shore up the rolling retreat to the south. Leave the mages with us. Keep the people moving. We’re doing well but we’re not home yet.’

‘Yes sir,’ said the squad leader. Moments later, The Unknown was beside him, his blade making the space he needed, cleaving the air in a tight upward arc, punching a Wesman from his feet as he tried desperately to block. The enemy warrior crashed into those behind him, his axe shaft splintered, his hands bloodied. Hirad smashed a fist into his next victim’s face and drove his blade straight into the Wesman’s stomach.

‘Sir?’ Hirad shook his head. ‘Are you sure he knew who you were?’ He drove his sword at the face of an enemy who blocked it with his own, jumping back as he did so.

The Unknown risked a glance across at the barbarian, his double-handed blade sweeping through in a defensive arc, connecting with nothing but keeping back everything. Hirad saw the big man’s mouth turn half up as he shrugged.

‘He just recognised authority when he spoke to it,’ he said.

‘Arrogant bastard.’ Hirad smiled.

‘Big sword.’ The Unknown winked and hefted his blade. ‘It usually does the trick.’

The press on the Julatsan line had eased just a little. The arrival of The Raven had energised the flagging Julatsan guard and given their adversaries pause for thought. There was not quite so much determination to breach into the square. An air of anxiety flickered across the faces of the Wesmen facing them and still any arrows bounced from the HardShield, now almost certainly held by Ilkar.

Denser’s FlameOrbs exploded into the partial stand-off, flitting over the heads of the first Wesmen and landing in the thick of their number, inflicting maximum damage, panic and chaos.

Though it was a sight he’d seen many times before, Hirad still had to steel himself against the horror of the magical flame that ate through armour and flesh like acid, burned with the intensity of a blacksmith’s forge and was as hard to douse. Those Wesmen who could, scattered from the effect of the flames, leaving their comrades to tear at clothes, beat at flames that consumed skin and hair and die in screaming agony.

Hirad and The Unknown were ready for the fallout as the instinctive move from the centre of the spell pushed unprepared Wesmen towards them. They led the Julatsans, striking hard and fast, cutting the enemy down as they all but stumbled on to the Julatsan defenders’ blades.

And before Denser’s magical fires guttered, HotRain was falling among the confused ranks of Wesmen who broke and scattered backwards, their wounded comrades and dead forgotten in the rush to dodge the tears of flame.

Hirad laughed. ‘On your way, Wesmen!’ he called after them. ‘You’ll never take the East.’

He and The Unknown stooped among the fallen, their daggers finishing those who still lived before they cleaned their blades on charred furs and scorched cloth and swept up discarded axes, knives and swords, prising or chopping away locked fingers.

‘We’ve bought a little time here,’ said The Unknown, glancing behind him as he reformed the line with Hirad, passing his haul of weapons to soldiers standing ready. ‘But just a little. Look at that movement.’ He indicated with a lazy sweep of his sword, flicking the heavy blade as nonchalantly as he might a stick. Hirad followed his gaze.

The Wesmen had reformed some thirty yards distant, a massive gap in the context of this conflict, at a crossroads where a narrow alley crossed the main street. Behind their somewhat bemused defensive line, Wesmen poured across the street, heading north towards the College. The numbers weren’t great but it could be assumed that the movement was being mirrored on the opposite side of the southern market.

‘The last thing we need is to come under sustained attack before we’re into the defence from the College walls,’ said The Unknown. ‘We need more weight further up the chain.’

Hirad glanced over his shoulder. The square was emptying rapidly, now populated principally by city guardsmen and soldiers.

‘I think we just need to leave,’ said Hirad. ‘If we don’t, we’ll soon be overwhelmed anyway, defence from the College walls or not.’

The Unknown nodded. ‘Agreed.’ He raised his voice just a little. ‘All right. On my mark, we move backwards. Denser, Erienne, look after Ilkar.’

The Julatsans, under The Raven’s calming voices, began to back away into the square, triggering an instant reaction among the Wesmen who advanced, crowding into the street, still cautious and thirty yards distant.

‘Shield down,’ said Ilkar almost immediately. ‘Wait. This is no good; they’ll overwhelm us if they charge, we need to keep them further back. We need static ForceCones covering every exit to the square. Any mage that can cast, do it. Hirad, trust me.’

‘Always,’ said Hirad. Ilkar began casting. ‘I’ll stay with him. The rest of you find those mages.’

Erienne hesitated, made a half move but Denser stayed her. The Unknown turned to the Julatsan squad leader, talking over the shouts he could hear across the square as the retreat continued.

‘You heard him. We’ve got to buy more time. Run.’ He moved to stand by Ilkar’s free shoulder, Denser and Erienne forming a mage line behind the trio. ‘Now is not the time to split us,’ said The Unknown. ‘We are The Raven.’ He held his sword in front of him, point tapping rhythmically on the stone at his feet.