“Form ranks!” Riot bellowed.

  It didn’t matter that the men didn’t like him. Riot had been a sergeant in the guild army for eighteen years and had a shout that could be heard across a bustling parade ground or cut through the frenzied madness of a battlefield. In moments, he had the small unit formed up in a neat rank, four lines deep. Even Moran’s guardsmen had joined without question.

  “Crease, Larkin, Lehan I want a piquet a hundred paces down the ravine. Make sure the bastards aren’t waiting for us,” Riot shouted, and watched the three Leybound hurry off along the river.

  “What is it, Sergeant?” Moran said, hurrying over.

  “Up there, coming down from the hills behind us,” Riot replied, pointing to where four red uniformed figures were slowly picking their way over the rocks. “Those families in the hills, we led them right to those poor bastards' doorstep,” Riot spat.

  “I am sure those people are fine,” Moran said.

  “You think they just stopped to ask for directions?” Riot said, failing to keep the anger from his voice.

  Moran’s expression hardened. “What’s done is done, Sergeant. Let's move out and keep ahead of them.”

  Riot cursed. “They split up. The rest of them took the road and beat us here. They must have ridden those bloody horses to death.”

  “Come now, you can’t possibly know that. We can make it across the road and into the forest, and from there to the Priory."

  “Enemy ahead!” Crease shouted as he and Larkin hurried back, ducking as shrieking Faelen darts pinged into the rocks around them.

  Think of what the enemy would do, then make it impossible for them to do it. If it were me, Riot thought, I’d have put a third force on the ravine walls above them.

  As if summoned by his thoughts, a flurry of shrieking darts assailed them from the heights, snapping on the stones. One of Moran's guards went down and did not move.

  “Get down!” Loic shouted.

  They dove for the cover of the huge rocks or hid behind the trunks of the larger trees. Riot found himself huddled behind a huge boulder with Moran and Loic, the air was filled with the crack of the leybound charges as they fought back.

  “Fight our way back into the hills?” Moran shouted over the shrill whistling and cracking.

  The last thing Riot wanted to do was retreat back into the hills; even a handful of Faelen could keep them pinned down long enough for the others to come in behind. There was only one way out of a trap like this, and that was to smash the jaws off entirely.

  The problem was Moran’s guardsmen, who were huddled nervously behind the rocks, not even attempting to fire back with their crossbows.

  “They won’t stand,” Loic said, as if he could read Riot's thoughts.

  “Nobody bloody asked you, did they?” Riot spat. “Do something useful, and make sure those bastards think twice before they come up behind us.”

  Loic called for two of the Leybound and ran at a crouch, Quinn caught Riot’s eye and he gave a nod for her to follow them.

  “What do you suggest, Sergeant?” Moran asked.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  He actually looked excited, his fine sabre drawn and clutched in his fist. If he wanted a fight, then he could have one.

  “Take your men and advance down the ravine, slow and steady. Their crossbows will make the distance. You’re an arcanist, can you do anything to tip the balance?” Riot said.

  “The arcane art is a rapier, Sergeant, not a club,” Moran said in a haughty voice.

  “This is soldiering. You take whatever weapon you have and you stab and you hit 'em, and you keep bloody hitting them till you’re the only one left,” Riot snarled.

  Moran was taken aback by Riot's outburst and gave a thin-lipped nod of his head. “Very well, what are you going to do?”

  Riot pointed up the steep slope of the ravine, where the zipping darts were keeping their small company pinned down. “I’m going up there to kill them.”

  Moran looked up at the craggy slope and swallowed. “This is what a glorious last charge looks like, is it? I thought there would be trumpets.”

  “Listen, this isn’t the time to honorably stand and face the enemy, they don’t deserve it. Remember what they did in the village? Keep low, use the rocks for cover, and hold them with the crossbows.”

  “If we are separated, follow the river south. We rendezvous at the priory on the last hill before the city. If I fall…”

  “Just keep your head down and hold them back.”

  Moran gave a sober nod and held out his hand. Riot hesitated, then took it, feeling the stinging loss as the ley power was drawn from him, misting onto the rocky floor. Then Moran was gone, shouting orders.

  Free of the crushing weight of the Leypower, Riot took what felt like his first real breath in days and drew his sword.

  The sloped side of the ravine didn't seem as steep as it had a moment ago and he shouted as he ran, calling for the Leybound to fall in behind him but not waiting to see if they would. Faelen darts flickered around him as he climbed, and he dared not look up to the heights lest he see how many enemies waited for him and lost his nerve.

  He slipped and stumbled on the loose rocks, but then heard other shouts behind him and the crack of leybound charges that were aimed at those above who pinned them down. The trees were sparse here, and Riot hauled himself up as a Faelen dart smacked into the trunk next to his hand, sending wood chips into his face. Then he found himself on flat ground, and the first Faelen was in front of him, sword drawn and lunging forward.

  Riot hacked the blade out of the way and punched the Faelen in the mouth with the guard of his sword, smashing his mouth and teeth, then swung the sword and cut into the nape of the Faelen’s neck. He ran on, pounding through the bushes, and the sword came down and broke an arm. He tackled the Faelen, sending both of them to the floor, then stabbed down with the sword, slashing a great wound in the Faelen’s chest.

  Then the Leybound were charging past him, screaming like animals as they ripped through the red uniforms of the enemy. In moments most lay dead, the others retreating.

  Norton had skewered a Faelen in the stomach and was staring open-mouthed as the body sagged to the ground.

  “You going to loot him then, Norton? That's why you joined up, isn’t it?” Riot shouted.

  The boy jolted into action and started to run his hands over Faelen’s pockets.

  Riot moved on to the ridge, looking down on the scene below.

  Moran and the guards had slowly retreated and now huddled at the bottom of the slope. As he watched, one of the guardsmen darted out from cover and was cut down by two Faelen darts that burned into his body and left him lying still on the rocks.

  Moran answered with his own arcane working, a fine sliver of gray light that flickered through the air like a throwing knife, almost silent, and buried itself in the forehead of a Faelen.

  Further back, more Faelen were arriving, as those who had survived Riot's attack on the ridge had gone down to reinforce the others. There would be no escape through the ravine.

  “Moran, up here, all of you up here!” Riot bellowed.

  Moran repeated the order, and he and the guards began to pick their way towards the slope, hounded by the Faelen darts, their pace agonizingly slow.

  “Cover them!” Riot shouted.

  The Leybound set to work. Rimmer was there, grimly crushing the leypower and sending cracking charges down to pepper the rocks and Riot moved among them, shouting encouragement. Norton appeared with a full Faelen pack and a handsome sword, and the Leybound cheered him and slapped the boy on the back.

  Down below, one of Moran's guards cried out as he was struck from behind, and Moran turned to haul him up the slope.

  Riot readied himself to jump down and help pull the injured guardsman up, but stopped as he heard the sharp report of leybound charges sounded from the other end of the ravine.

  Loic and Quinn were still down there, and the fight to hold off the group that had tracked them through the hills had begun.