It did not take long for the main Quman force to recognize the new threat. A Quman chieftain joined the gathering horde. He was easy to spot because his wings glinted as if each were a knife of polished steel. Half his force split with him, turning neatly and breaking into a charge as the prince’s troops cleared the orchard. At a gallop, the two forces collided.

Zacharias, beside her, grunted softly, as though he himself had been hit. Heribert murmured a prayer. Blessing had two fingers in her mouth, sucking hard, as she squinted at the landscape below; it was impossible to tell if she understood what was going on.

Anna leaned forward. The sun was shining in her eyes and it was hard to see.

The prince, dragon helm gleaming, led the charge straight to the iron-winged Quman. Horse and rider disappeared under the prince’s assault; the brilliant wings splintered and vanished as the fight swirled over them. Now, at last, Walburg’s cavalry advanced as the gate closed behind them, blocking their retreat.

“How goes the fray?” Wolfhere’s voice surprised her.

“Well enough, I think. Don’t you ride with the prince?”

He chuckled softly as Zacharias glared at him. “Nay, child. I’m too old for battle.”

“Look,” said Heribert softly. “They’ve routed them.”

The field churned into chaos, Wendish soldiers pursuing the Quman, who scattered in all directions.

Sanglant split his group into three; his dragon helm could be seen chasing the largest surviving knot of Quman toward the river. Walburg’s forces hunted down Quman as well. Anna lost sight of Walburg’s lord where the slope and wood hid him from view, near where Sanglant had originally emerged.

“Quman!” From below, Matto called the alarm.

A group of fourteen Quman broke out of the trees and into the clearing, reining their horses aside when they saw the undefended tents, the ruined watchtower, and the square-walled little fort. Wolfhere drew his short sword and crept carefully to the parapet walk, avoiding rotted planks and gaps in the floorboards.

Zacharias yanked her down beside him. Through the gaps in the floorboards she saw Matto, Everwin, and the man everyone called Surly standing with spears to cover the breaches that riddled the first floor of the tower. From this angle she couldn’t see Den, Johannes, and Lewenhardt, who were stationed elsewhere. She stuck her hand into an alcove in the stone wall, drawing out the long knife she had laid aside just in case. Zacharias and Heribert had staffs, but everyone knew that Heribert was pretty useless in a fight. How well Zacharias could fight was a mystery to everyone, but the look of desperation on his face made her almost feel sorry for him.

Heribert slid over to Anna. “Don’t worry,” he whispered. “They’ll loot the camp and then ride away. They won’t even know we’re here.”

“I kill them,” interrupted Blessing. The cleric hissed softly and set two fingers over Blessing’s lips. The little girl sighed disgustedly and shut her eyes.

By now the sound of horses crashing through the undefended camp and of men calling to each other in their harsh language carried easily. Fabric ripped. Pots clattered. A horse neighed. Anna took little comfort in Heribert’s words. She hid the knife up her sleeve so that, should a Quman reach her, he might think her unarmed and easy prey.

What betrayed them she never knew. Maybe it was only curiosity on the part of one of the Quman soldiers.

She heard it because, crouched down, she could see nothing except her companions, the crumbling parapet wall, and the sky. A soldier must have investigated the stairs, where one of the traps had been laid.

A scream cut abruptly through the sounds of looting. A body fell, wetly, in awful silence. At once, the Quman shouted to each other and a rain of arrows spattered down along the parapet walk. One slammed into the wall above Anna and flopped over to clatter onto the plank beside Heribert. She peeped out over the wall.

Crazy Lewenhardt had found himself cover on a slab of wall broken off on either side and therefore hard to climb. The best archer in Sanglant’s troop, he started shooting now, picking his targets carefully. A dismounted Quman who was advancing on the tower fell writhing, then scrambled backward with an arrow sticking out of his thigh. Another shower of arrows followed; Anna ducked. Through the floorboards she saw Everwin grab at a rope just as Matto yelled.

“Three of them, in the left breach!”

Rocks tumbled as a winged soldier pressed through, leading with his spear. Either the rocks crushed him or he leaped out of the way; she couldn’t tell as dust rose, screening her view. Surly was already hacking at the central breach, trading blows with an unseen foe. Shouts rose from Den and Johannes as Quman found the other usable stairs leading to the parapet. She heard the sharp “twang” of the last trap released. Wolfhere ran down the walk to aid them, but he hadn’t gone more than ten steps when a Quman leaped onto the parapet between Wolfhere and the tower. The stone archway, all that remained of the old door, framed his frightful figure. His wings fluttered as the wind picked up; several feathers, scraped off from his climb, drifted out into the gulf of air beyond the wall.