The goblins had paid the price of assaulting Sal’s palace. They’d been forced to give lives to get inside; then give more to advance their way up each floor. Sal had led the defence. His guards had done their duty. But, in the end, they had fallen to the onslaught. The goblins still had warriors to spare.

  A dozen of them had entered his mercs’ weapon store. Sal followed them in, attacking from the rear. Two had already fallen into his pit trap in the middle of the floor. Three more fell to his sword. The Guvnah followed him in, adding another four lives to his growing tally.

  The three that remained countered. They had no choice. He and The Guvnah took another hit each, before they rallied and finished them off.

  Sal looked at the bare walls of the room. He’d stripped it of weapons before the attack, determined not to let the goblins profit from their assault. It was a sad sight.

  ‘More.’ Clamor’s voice from the corridor. He covered their exit, keeping the next group of goblins at a distance with his bow. For the moment.

  Sal led Alfie farther up the corridor, then into his office. ‘Help me with this.’ They manoeuvred his desk over to the door. ‘Come on, Clamor!’ he shouted.

  The scout was quick into the room, then they put the desk against the door. It wouldn’t hold for long.

  Sal began collecting up the papers from the desk.

  ‘What are you doing?’ The Guvnah asked, bemused.

  Sal laughed, dropping his files. ‘I don’t know. I don’t know why they’re still so important to me.’

  ‘Ready,’ came Clamor’s dry voice. He had a rope in hand. It dangled out of the fourth floor window down to the ground below. ‘The yard is empty. It won’t be forever.’ He didn’t wait for a response, agilely stepping out of the window and beginning his descent.

  Sal sheathed his sword and headed over. He gave The Guvnah a wry smile. They’d each taken four or five hits so far. Neither could afford fall damage. ‘See you down there.’

  As he clambered out the window, his desk scraped along the floor of his study. The Guvnah stopped it with one foot, keeping his balance and his sword in hand. Sal got going, his legs twined around the rope while he slithered down with his hands. There was no time to think about it.

  ‘Keep going,’ Clamor encouraged from below.

  The Guvnah reached the window and hurled his sword out, before getting onto the rope himself. His descent was rapid, and only just in time. The goblins appeared at the window, just too late to reach Goodfellow. But not too late to hack at the rope.

  Sal felt arms around him, and Clamor carried him off the rope, hurling him to the side. He looked up to see the goblins cutting through the rope.

  Somehow, Clamor got under The Guvnah to break his fall. The scout took four hit points of damage.

  Sal pulled them to their feet as the goblins above began hurling things down at them. ‘Come on,’ he said, leading the pair away. There was no time for a backward glance at his palace.

  Sal left the grounds of the palace in the company of The Guvnah and Clamor, heading for the bridge. It was the goblins’ target, but also his means of escape from his city.

  From the right, Sal saw a single figure heading in the same direction. His brother hobbled, moving so slow the goblins would soon catch up with him. He diverted over to Rylan, putting a steadying arm around him. The four of them resumed their retreat from Dorwich.

  ‘You need that leg dealing with,’ Sal told him.

  ‘Difa is dead,’ Rylan said.

  Sal’s heart sank. His last medic.

  ‘They’re all dead,’ Rylan added. ‘The whole west side of the city is overrun. I was a couple of hits from joining them.’

  ‘All of them? Even The Harvester?’

  ‘The Harvester I don’t know about. He’s out there doing his own thing. The rest fought with me, and fell. What about the palace?’

  ‘We’re all that’s left.’

  ‘By the gods, this is some apocalyptic shit going down.’

  Ahead of them was the bridge, and the guard Sal had posted to defend the crossing. What was left of it. They reached a trail of dead goblins, which led all the way to the river. Here, only three defenders were left standing. He was relieved to see his sister was one of them.

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  Wynter was only a little better off than Rylan. Her companions, too, were badly injured. Vixen had clearly taken the goblins at long range first, judging by the trail of them. But now she held a bloody shortsword. Rake also held a shortsword in one hand, and a dagger in another. Sal looked for the merc’s longsword and saw it on the ground, broken in two pieces—presumably on the skull of the goblin who lay with it.

  ‘That pissed me off,’ Rake said.

  ‘Sal.’ Wynter had urgency in her voice. ‘Shade is dying.’ She pointed to her friend, who lay unconscious at her feet. His wounds were too severe to cure, except by a specialist.

  ‘Difa is dead,’ Rylan said bluntly.

  Wynter looked at Sal with mute appeal. But he had no hope to offer her. ‘I’m sorry. We won’t leave him here for the goblins. I’ll end it.’

  No,’ Wynter said. ‘I’ll do it.’ She stabbed Shade with her sword.

  When she was a little girl, Wynter always used to cry. But she hadn’t shed a tear in years, and she presented a hard face to the world even now.

  ‘That leaves seven of us,’ Rylan noted. ‘What now?’

  ‘We make our way to Avolo,’ Sal said. ‘It’s the only secure place left. Maybe we can hold them off there.’ No one looked like they believed that. ‘Or get a ship out of here. My only consolation is that if half the goblin army did this to us, The Rotten Apples will have been wiped out.’

  ***

  An uneasy truce lingered at Linby. A few hundred goblins remained on the opposite bank, and Lothar had to ensure his mercs were vigilant night and day, in case they attempted a crossing.

  The rest of the goblin army had left, and they’d done a good job of hiding their withdrawal. Realistically, Dorwich or Avolo were the only options for them. It left the Apples at an impasse for a few days, until they received more information.

  He’d sent Tree and The Explorer north, with the task of discovering the fate of Dorwich City. Meanwhile, The Bowman came to see him.

  ‘I’m worried about my family.’

  ‘Eh? What do you mean?’

  ‘The farm. It’s in the goblins’ path. And I know my family. They won’t leave. They’ll try to defend it. I need to go help.’

  ‘Permission denied, Christoph. I can’t afford to lose you. You’re the only archer I have with the scouts gone.’ Lothar thought about his answer. He really didn’t want The Bowman to disobey him and run off. ‘Let me think about it when they return. Is that alright?’

  ‘I suppose that’s fair.’

  ‘What about Ashlyn?’ Lothar asked, suddenly suspicious. ‘She doesn’t want to go with you, does she? Because I really can’t afford to lose the pair of you.’

  ‘She would, ordinarily. But—’

  ‘But what?’

  Christoph looked shifty.

  ‘Out with it, boy.’

  ‘She wants the Blairs dead.’

  ‘Huh. Don’t we all.’ Lothar nearly left it there, but something wasn’t right. ‘You mean, she especially wants them dead?’

  ‘I don’t think I should be saying anything else, Stiff.’

  Lothar racked his brains, trying to read between the lines The Bowman had given him. Then he had it. The girl was from Durnost. ‘Her father.’ It wasn’t a question. He knew. ‘They were involved in his death.’

  Christoph nodded. ‘I’m worried she’ll do something stupid. And I won’t be there to protect her.’

  Lothar sighed. ‘Leave it with me. I made a promise I’d look after her.’

  ‘Alright, Stiff.’

  ‘You did the right thing telling me.’

  The boy walked off, less burdened than before.

  Meanwhile, my list of shite grows ever longer.

  His scouts finally returned with the news he sought.

  ‘The goblins breached the Auster at Dorwich,’ Tree told him.

  ‘What of the Blades?’

  ‘Hard to tell for sure. No sign of them. Most of the goblins are south of the river, raiding the local settlements for food. We couldn’t get close to the city. It looked intact. But I think the Blairs will have defended it.’

  ‘If the goblins are staying in the vicinity of Dorwich,’ Lothar said, thinking aloud, ‘seems like they’re waiting for news from Linby. Either that, or they know what happened here and they’re waiting for reinforcements.’

  ‘What if the Blades retreated and are out here somewhere?’ Jaelin asked. ‘They might target us.’

  Lothar scratched at his chin. ‘If the Blades gave their city up and retreated with their full force, you’d have spotted them, or heard of their passing. If they stayed to fight and then withdrew, they’ll have injured mercs to worry about. In that case, they’ll be keeping quiet and making their way south. I’m not too worried about them. It’s the goblins that concern me. They’ll drive south soon.’

  Lothar had a decision to make. He checked his mission board.

  KILL SAL

  KILL RYLAN

  KILL THE GOBLIN KING

  DEFEND LINBY

  DEFEND AVOLO

  DEFEND GERD FARM

  RETAKE DORWICH

  I can only be in one place at a time, and dividing my force seems like madness. The goblins are the greater threat right now. But this could be my chance to deal with Sal and his siblings.

  The tall Hargon scout cleared his throat. ‘What are we gonna do, Stiff?’

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