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The others kept pace, and he could hear the huffing of their war steeds, the sound of hooves on pounded earth. Around him in the night he could catch only the gleam of a bridle, the flash of a gauntlet, orange light on a helm from fires that must be burning at the eastern gate.

They heard the central defensive barricade, Tiamh’s, before they saw it. People were everywhere, knights, fighters, soldiers, many of them still panting, still running. A retreat.

Arren reined in his mount. ‘Elogast!’ he called.

‘Commander general!’ He could hear distant cries over the constant crashing of the falls, and the sound of metal clashing.

A battle ahead still. A few red bodies of Talicians were broken on this second blockade, but it seemed the fire worshippers were still focussed on the front line.

He heard another blast from the front, two long blows on the horn, then one short.

A request for aid.

Arren recognised Tiamh, staring ahead, unmoving, and beside him a runner, blood on her face and over her hands, a deep gash in her shoulder. Then there was Tulenne in his yellow cloak, panting with his back against the blockade. Geralfi, Yesef. They had all made it.

Apart from Elo.

‘Tiamh!’ barked Arren. ‘What’s happening?’

The general looked up, blanching at the sight of Arren. ‘Your majest— I mean, Sunbringer! You should be back at the west gate.’

‘I would look our enemy in the eyes, Tiamh. Report!’

‘They came from three sides,’ said the runner, taking over despite the wound in their arm.

‘The south first, then a charge from the gate, then three boatloads from upriver broke straight through the defence. They flanked the front and cut us off from them. The rest retreated.’ They glanced at Tulenne, who was swallowing.

‘We were c-called to the centre,’ he said. ‘We came to help!’

‘You had orders to stay at the docks,’ snapped Yesef, who had an arrow sticking out of her back, buried in the muscle. A healer was trying to take it out, digging around the barbs with a knife. She swallowed a scream. ‘Of all the fuckery, I did not imagine you would abandon your gods damned post.’

‘You cannot speak to me that way, commander,’ snapped Tulenne.

Arren cut through them. He would deal with Tulenne later. But now, there was only the fight. ‘Where is the commander general?’

Yesef looked up, her expression apologetic. ‘He was at the front,’ she said.

Cut off. Surrounded. Arren needed to hear no more. ‘Fifty fighters!’ he shouted. ‘Spears and shortswords, come to me and prepare for close combat. I want Gefyris, front and centre. You know your city better than anyone.’

‘Sunbringer, the front is lost,’ said Tiamh. ‘The commander general fought well, but it was not enough. They are bringing the Hseth statue forward, Geralfi saw it. They mean to summon her.’

‘I will come.’ This was Lord Geralfi, blood staining his legs and greaves; not his own, judging by how easily he still stood. Whatever Elo had said to the older lord, it had scared him somehow more than the Talicians.

‘You lead them, commander,’ ordered Arren. ‘Head for the docks and take them by surprise. Clear the way as far forward as you can, then shatter any pathways they might use to advance. Go sly, go quiet, and unless you can hold them, retreat when I give the clear.’

‘Yes, Sunbringer.’

‘Go.’

Geralfi turned, his voice robust as he barked out orders. Indigo fighters leapt up at his commands, lifting their weapons.

‘I need archers,’ said Arren, turning to the rest of his war council.

‘I have twelve,’ said Yesef, indicating a group crouched by the blockades, organising arrows. ‘Captain!’

One of the archers looked up.

‘To the king!’

The archers leapt to their feet, and Yesef yowled as the healer finally wrenched the arrow out of her muscle, immediately applying a herbal pouch to the freshly bleeding wound.

They had to move quickly. A few archers, his own mounted riders, and the element of surprise would have to do.

‘Prepare to follow and save our people!’ cried Arren. ‘Open the barricade!’ He already knew that Elo would have created a route through with just a few shifts of barriers on wheels.

The archers lined up with the horses without argument, and Elemni neither dismounted nor faltered. She was ready too. Arren hoped Tulenne was watching.

His command was echoed with a blast of a horn. One long call of sound.

Prepare.

All the Middrenites prepared for him to ride, readying the barriers, watching for his order.

What is the point of resisting? Hestra spoke to him. What is the point of all this?

‘Now!’ Arren cried to the soldiers of the second blockade.

The barriers shifted, and Arren spurred on the horse. Ten cavalry, at pace with an array of other fighters. It would have to be enough. At the same time, Geralfi would be moving towards the northern docks.

They broke into a controlled run as they passed the last of the blockers which were pulled shut behind them. Here, there was an open stretch of road, dusty and empty, bereft of its people.

‘Spread out!’ Arren called. ‘Create a line! Keep pace with each other!’ He would remind them that before he was a king he had been a commander, and before he had been a commander he had been a knight.

Why do you do this? said Hestra. Why do you throw yourself into the fire over and over, King Arren?

We have to save our people, Hestra, he said into his heart. Ours. Fire and sun, hearth and hope. We make the future, we tell our own story, or we die trying.

She warmed in him, soothing his aching bones as he led the charge over the eastern bridge between the narrow buildings. There were bodies here, red and blue, steel and leather. Blood stained the ground.

None of them were Elo.

Arren looked ahead. From the back of the horse, he could see over the red of the Talicians that were converging on a last battalion that had somehow managed to gather itself together into a protective knot.

They were all but surrounded, and beyond them, there was a statue, borne by priests. Bronze. Burning. Hseth.

Her feet were painted with blood. Even as he watched, the injured were dragged to her, their faces pressed to her hot metal flesh, their lives ended upon her body.

Sacrifices.