"Be careful, Will," said Noin, biting her lip.

"A little work before dinner," I replied, trying to make my voice sound light and confident although the smoke thickening and ash raining down on our heads filled me with dread. "I'll be back before you know it."

Iwan and Siarles returned and passed out the bows and bundles of arrows. I slung the strung bow over my chest and tied a sheaf of arrows to my belt. Leaving the folk in the care of Angharad and the friar, we departed on the run. We followed the drift of the smoke as the wind carried it from the blaze, and with every step the darkness grew as the smoke clouds thickened. Before long, we had to stop and wet the edges of our cloaks and pull them fast around our faces to keep from breathing the choking stuff.

We pressed on through the weird twilight and soon began to see the flicker of orange and yellow flames through the trees ahead. The fire produced a wind that gusted sharply, and we felt the heat lapping at our hands and faces. The roar of the blaze, like the surge of waves hurled onto the shore, drowned out all other sound.

"This way!" urged Bran, veering off the track at an angle towards the wall of fire.

Working quickly and quietly, we came around to a place where the fire had already burned. And there, standing on the charred, still-smouldering earth stood a body of Ffreinc soldiers-eight of them, loitering beside a wagon pulled by two mules and heaped with casks of oil. Some of them carried torches. The rest held lances and shields. All were dressed for battle, with round steel helmets and swords strapped to their belts; their shields leaned against the wagon bed.

We dropped to the ground and wormed back out of sight behind the screen of smoke and flames.

"Sheriff 's men," spat Siarles.

"Trying to burn us out," observed Tomas, "and on Christmas day, the sots. Not very friendly, I'd say."

"Shall we take them, Bran?" asked Rhoddi.

"Not yet," Bran decided. "Not until we know how many more are with them." Turning to me and Rhoddi, he said, "You two go with Iwan. Siarles and Tomas come with me. Go all the way to the end and take a good look"-he pointed off into the wood where the wall of flame burned brightest-"and then come back here. We will do the same."

Rhoddi and I fell into step behind Iwan, and the three of us made our way along the inside of the fiery wall, as it were, until, after a few hundred paces, we reached the end. Keeping low, to better stay out of the smoke, we crawled on hands and knees to peer around the edge of the flames. Ten Ffreinc soldiers were working this end of the blaze-two with torches and three with casks of oil they were sprinkling on the damp underbrush. Five more stood guard with weapons ready.

Iwan pointed out the one who seemed to be the leader of the company, and we withdrew, hurrying back to the meeting place. Bran and Iwan spoke briefly together. "We will take the first group here and now," Bran told us, unslinging his bow. "Then we will take the others."

Iwan drew three arrows from the cloth bag. "Fan out," he told us, indicating the spread with three jerks of his hand, "and loose on my signal."

We all drew three shafts and crept into position, halting at the edge of the flame wall. The Ffreinc were still watching the fire, their faces bright. When I saw Iwan fit an arrow to the string, I did likewise. When he stood, I stood. He drew, and so did I…

"Now!" he said, his voice low but distinct.

Six shafts streaked out from the wood, crossing the burned clearing in a wink. Four soldiers dropped to the ground.

The two remaining men-at-arms had no time to wonder what had happened to the other fellas. Before they could raise their shields or look around, winged death caught them, lifted them off their feet, and put them on their backs-pierced through with two shafts each.

Then it was a fleet-footed race to the further end of the flame wall. The fire was burning hotter as more of the underbrush and wood took light, drawing wind to itself and spitting it out in fluttering gusts. The smoke was heavy. We clutched our cloaks to our faces and made our way as best we could, stumbling half-blind through the murk to take up new positions.

The flames were now between us and the Ffreinc. We could see the soldiers moving as through a shimmering curtain. Imagine their surprise when out from this selfsame curtain flew not frightened partridges to grace the Christmas board, but six sizzling shafts tipped with stinging death.

Four of the arrows found their marks, and three Marchogi toppled into the snow. A fifth shaft ripped through a soldier's arm and into the cask in the hands of the fella behind him. The amazed soldier dropped the cask, dragging down his companion, who was now securely nailed to the top of the cask.

"Ready…," said Iwan, placing another arrow on the string and leaning into the bow as he drew and took aim. "Now!"

Six more arrows sped through the high-leaping flames, and four more Ffreinc joined the first four on the ground. The remaining two, however, reacting quickly, threw themselves down, pulling their shields over them, thinking to protect themselves this way. But Iwan and Siarles, pressing forward as far as the flames would allow, each sent a shaft pelting into the centre of the shields; one glanced off, taking the edge of the shield with it. The other shaft struck just above the boss and penetrated all the way through and into the neck of the soldier cowering beneath it.

The last fella, crouching behind his shield, tried to back away. Bran knelt quickly and, holding the bow sideways, loosed a shaft that flashed out of the flames, speeding low over the ground. It caught the retreating soldier beneath the bottom edge of the shield, pinning the man's ankles together. He fell screaming to the snow and lay there moaning and whimpering.

We held our breath and waited.

When no more soldiers appeared, we began to imagine it safe to leave.

"What are we to do about the fire?" I asked.

"We cannot fight it," Siarles replied. "We'll have to let it go and hope for the best."

"We will watch it," Iwan said. "If it spreads or changes direction, we should know."

Bran looked back through the curtain of flame towards the fallen soldiers. "I did not see the sheriff." Turning to us, he said, "Did anyone see the sheriff?"

No one had seen him, of course, for just as the question had been spoken there came a shout and, from the night-dark wood behind us, mounted knights appeared, lances couched, crashing up out of the brush where they had been hidden.

I saw the spearheads gleam sharp in the firelight and the fire glow red on the helmets of the knights and chamfers of the horses as they clattered up out of the brake. I tried to count and made it eight or ten of them, closing fast.

They were that near we had time but to pull once and loose.

In less time than it takes to catch a breath, our arrows streaked out, the stinging whine followed by a slap and crack like that of a whip as steel heads met padded leather jerkin and then ring mail, piercing both. The force of the blow lifted two hard-charging riders from the saddle and sent a third backwards over the rump of his horse.

Before the onrushing knights could check their mounts, we each had another shaft on the string. Iwan took the foremost knight, and I took the one behind him. Bran changed his aim at the last instant and sent a shaft into the breast of a charger that had already lost its rider. The oncoming horse's legs tangled and it stumbled, taking down the two horses behind it as well. The knights tried to quit the saddle before their steeds rolled on them, but only one avoided the crush. The other was lost in a heap of horseflesh and churning hooves.