It was well past midday, the sun was peeking now and then through rolling banks of clouds which sailed through the sky like the flying shrouds of so many ghosts. Down below, the fields of Beckby were still. The clamour of battle had faded, leaving behind only the silence of the tomb.

Hae-jin rode at a canter through the field, still mounted on his borrowed steed. The creature seemed to have a mind of its own, heeding directions dutifully in a manner that seemed more in the way of detached professionalism than inbred domestication. But if it were a wight, Hae-jin could not guess, for the creature remained mute as it carried Hae-jin to and fro as he roamed the field to marshal the king’s army in pursuit of the enemy.

The armies of Gurth had been driven from the field. Those of Wickhowe’s alliance who remained were now in full retreat, falling back to their respective strongholds. Zard and Drixi were broken and scattered, and the tattered fragments of Gurth’s men were fleeing across the heathland towards Ardgar Castle. Hae-jin was proud of the performance of his troops, particularly the peasants and the officers commanding them. Long hours of training and drilling under Hae-jin had paid off, and the Army of Robin Goodfellow had held firm at the critical moment and carried the day. The king’s victory had been costly though, and Hae-jin reflected bitterly on his own errors in the battle. To be sure, the king had ultimately been the one in command, not Hae-jin. But even if that had not been the case Hae-jin felt that the outcome would have been little different. For despite his own misgivings he had failed to see through Gurth’s deception, and had walked straight into his trap. He took little comfort in the fact that Gurth too had made errors. The witch’s forces had been spread too thin, and he had relied too heavily on the capricious winds of magic to carry the day for him. Likewise, Gurth had also relied far too much on the Drixi. He had deployed them in way that demanded more than they were realistically capable of achieving, and more indeed than their precarious alliance would tolerate.

There was a flash of golden feathers, and Hae-jin pulled his mount to a stop as the Bird fluttered to the ground beside him.

“Excellent news! The Drixi are on the run. I think it’s safe to say that they’ve wholly abandoned Gurth by now. As far as we can tell they are simply preoccupied with regrouping and recovering as many of their mounts as possible. Most of them are still stranded on the ground, and we’ve taken many prisoners.”

“That is indeed good news. Is there any news on Gurth?”

“Yes, I have seen him! I spotted him in the downs with a company of his men, headed for Ardgar Castle. There’s no chance of us catching him before he gets there. We will just have to lay siege to him straight away before he can flee the country entirely.”

Hae-jin gritted his teeth.

“We won’t be able to lay siege to him in time. The king is already on the march in pursuit of Gatehurst and Kirkweld, and my men are spread all across the downs hunting down the Zard. I doubt we could lay siege to Ardgar before late tomorrow, by which time Gurth could be gone. Go find Swinstoke, and tell him to assume command of the hunt. Have him dispatch the heavy cavalry back to my encampment and wait for me there. Then go round up the Wogs, Ursilda and the others, and send them back to the camp as well. And then, go to the Drixi prisoners, and tell them that Sir Robin Greyflower wishes to parely.”

“Eh? What do you want to talk to the Drixi for?”

“I’ll explain later, just get going! I’ll have much more for you to do when you get back.”

Without further protest the Bird shot into the sky and sailed off on his errands.

The wind was starting to pick up, and the sun was soon overwhelmed by the mounting procession of mournful grey clouds.

Hae-jin’s encampment was largely deserted. The king’s baggage train had already departed to catch up with Bradlaw’s army, while most of those who remained were roaming the countryside in search of Drixi and Zard. A few banners still flew here and there above the tents, the fabric flapping loudly in the breeze against the surrounding silence.

Lindsey was sitting on a stool near where the Bird had told her to meet the others, her back slumped and her eyes downcast as she idly turned her axe in her hands. The weapon had served her well that day. The instincts Elred had drawn out from it had kept her alive, and even now she was still depending on the strength it had given her. She gripped the shaft more tightly as her mind filled with the terrible memories of the battle, the horrifying sights and sounds of the day flooding unbidden into her thoughts and piercing her soul like an endless rain of ice shards. She could still see the faces of the people she’d killed with her own hand that day, ghostly Drixi visages floating up before her exactly as they were before she slew them. Waves of guilt and remorse swept over her, even knowing that the people she’d killed had been trying to kill her in turn. The fortitude imprinted in her mind by the ancient weapon was just about the only thing left to keep her sane. So many people had died that day. Some by her own hand, and some not. And many more still would not live to see the next day. Even the young Earl of Donnock had been struck down at the point of a Drixi spear, and was now lying in his tent under Joan’s care, fighting for his life.

A shadow fell across Lindsey, and she snapped out of her plaintive revery as a great shape loomed above her. She looked up to see the towering form of Barri, and in a slightly terrifying moment his mammoth frame descended as he lurched and sat down beside her with a resounding grunt.

“Ullo, girlie. Noice axe.”

“Um, hi. I didn’t expect to see you again. How did you get here anyway?”

“Walked.”

“Uh, yeah. Me too. Mostly. I thought you wanted to stay and work on your rockpile, uh, your monument I mean.”

“Well, that’ll be another longish story. That Bird just don’t give up. He came round again, said the noice girlie was in trouble and all. I told him he were a silly git to go and get the noice girlie in trouble like that. But then I got me to thinkin’ about wotcha said, about puttin’ somethin’ properly heroic and all on me monument. I figured it were a shame if anything bad happened to the noice girlie just because the Bird were a silly git. So I fetched me club and me metal suit and I went. It were a long walk, it were, but I saw a lot o’ different country and all manner o’ queer folk along the way. Got it all up here in me head, and I’ll put it all in me monument when I get back.”

There was a small ruckus coming through the camp now, and rounding the corner of the tent were the three Wogs, laden down with piles of Drixi loot and quarrelling loudly with one another. They stopped speechless in their tracks when they saw Barri, but his presence on the battlefield had been impossible to miss and it didn’t take Lindsey much more than to explain he was a friend of the Bird’s for the Wogs to dismiss him and go back to quarrelling. Bit by bit the others started arriving, first Ursilda and then Dackery, Falknir, and Sykes.

Finally, Hae-jin himself arrived. As he drew up his horse near where the others were gathered he dismounted and took hold of the reins to secure them. But the horse gently turned its head and deftly pulled the reins out of Hae-jin’s hands, and turning around ambled off on its own into the camp. Hae-jin had a feeling that he would be best served to leave the animal to its own devices; it had only been tolerant of him for as long as it had intended. As he watched, the horse trotted over to where a woman in a green dress was standing apart from the rest of the encampment, presenting its bridle submissively to her as she took possession of the reins once more, and led the animal out of sight.

Hae-jin turned to the others.

“I don’t suppose any of you know who that woman is?”

“I can’t imagine!”, the Bird mused, “Her appearance was certainly most propitious, uncannily so. We must interview her straight away!”

For her own part, Lindsey remained silent on the matter. She kept her promises.

Hae-jin now returned his attention to the others.

“All that will have to wait for now, at the moment we have more urgent matters to attend to. You all fought valiantly today, and we have achieved a great victory. But it is not over yet. Gurth has fallen back to Ardgar Castle. His forces are scattered and dispersed, but even now they are surely attempting to regroup. The Earl of Wickhowe is dead, but many of his followers have survived and are making an orderly retreat. Even without the earl, the king’s wrath may be sufficient to keep their alliance intact for a time, and the situation will remain unstable so long as Wickhowe’s coalition persists. It is my hope that the king will be prevailed upon to issue a general pardon to anyone who defects, which may go a long way in thinning out the ranks of the rebels and driving them to capitulation. But so long as Gurth remains unchecked the rebels may still be inclined to fight rather than take a chance on the king’s clemency. It is imperative that we deal with Gurth once and for all now, while the rebels are still in retreat. Therefore, tonight we are going to take Ardgar Castle”

“Tonight!”, blurted a Wog, “You can’t be serious! Why should we take the castle now? Let’s just lay siege to the place and starve the lot of them out.”

“Foolish goblin!”

The shrill voice cut over the words of the Wog, as the woman in the green dress stepped unexpectedly into their midst. Her hat was long gone, and her dark hair was draped elegantly over her supple shoulders even as it remained in tangled disarray. Vacantly, Lindsey found herself mildly annoyed that the Lady Edith still managed to look stunning even when she was a mess.

Hae-jin looked at the woman quizzically, though likewise with a certain measure of satisfaction. At least he was going to find out who this interloper was, and might perhaps even benefit from her obvious powers.

“And who might you be, good lady?”

Edith returned Hae-jin’s gaze austerely.

“Who I am is unimportant. Suffice to say that I am called Edith, and like yourselves I too am a servant of the Good Folk. And you will require my assistance if you want to be assured of taking Gurth this night.”

Hae-jin recollected her action during the battle that morning, and saw no reason to disagree with her statement. He was still not satisfied with her account of herself, but for the moment he would not press the matter further.

“Your assistance is most gratefully accepted.”

“But Hae-jin!” blurted the Wog again, “How do you expect us to manage all this? The whole army is scattered like rabbits in a rainstorm.”

“I still have a hundred mounted men at arms at the ready, which I will take to Ardgar very soon. Gurth has only a small garrison left. At this moment our good Fox is already within the walls, learning the ways of the castle. At the appointed hour a small detachment will infiltrate the castle, and the Fox will guide them to the gatehouse. With the gates in our possession, my men shall enter the castle and take it by storm.”

“You’ve lost your wits, Hae-jin. How are we going to get inside Gurth’s castle? I assume it’s us lot who’ll be doing the dirty work.”

“I have been negotiating with our Drixi prisoners. In exchange for their help, I have promised the Drixi that we will cease hunting them down and will grant them safe passage out of the country.”

“Ha! That’s a good one. And what makes you think the king will honor your promise?”

“I believe that the king will act sensibly on the matter. His attention is focused on Wickhowe’s remaining allies, and this is by far the easiest way to be rid of the Drixi.”

“Pish-tush! I’m glad I’m not depending on any of your promises. Except for that hundred and fifty silver marks a day, that is.”

“A hundred and fifty-one!”

“Oh just bottle up, you idiot!”

“I have presently at my disposal eight Drixi riders”, Hae-jin explained, “who will assist us in infiltrating Gurth’s castle from the air. Sykes will lead the assault, and the three Wogs will accompany him along with four others.”

“I must be one of those four”, Edith interjected.

Hae-jin nodded in assent.

“I therefore require three more volunteers.”

Now Falknir stood up.

“I volunteer myself and Dackery, of course.”

Lindsey bit her lip. She wasn’t going to sit this one out.

“I’m going too, Hae-jin.”

Hae-jin turned to Lindsey, a troubled look on his face.

“I think you should stay here. Joan is overwhelmed caring for the wounded. She will need your help.”

“Don’t kid me, Hae-jin. I’m not a doctor, Joan doesn’t need me. I’m going along with the others, and that’s that.”

Hae-jin looked at Lindsey, a certain pain and concern on his face. But he again he nodded, and said nothing more.

As night closed in on the Kingdom of Linster the cloud cover became nearly complete, plunging the land into an almost stygian darkness relieved by only a few faint stars which barely reflected on the dark towers of Ardgar Castle. A noble old Linsterish fortress, the castle had sunk into darkness and disrepute, for Gurth had occupied it long ago as a suitable seat from which to exert his dominance over the district. Inside, lights had been lit against the darkness, and through the gloom of the courtyard Tom Oates was running across the cobbles.

Tom had fled to Gurth’s encampment outside Larchester after the failed assassination of Hae-jin many days ago, and had accompanied Gurth’s retinue of servants all the way to Ardgar Castle. He was now on his way back from the gatehouse, bringing news from a party of scouts which had just returned. Tom scampered up the steps of the castle’s great, monolithic keep and slid nervously past a pair of towering, wolflike creatures flanking the doorway on either side, with inky black fur and red eyes that glowed faintly with an inner fire. Scrambling through the dank passages of the tower he now made his way to Gurth’s chambers.

Gunth was at his table, hunched over his scrying stone. He was still encased in his armor, though its surface was marred and scratched, and his horned greathelm was nowhere to be seen. As Tom entered the room the witch looked up angrily.

“What are you doing here? Get out!”

Tom quivered.

“My lord, a patrol has just returned!”

“And?”

“My lord, they’ve spotted the enemy outside the castle.”

“Where?”

“I’m not sure, I think they were just in the village.”

“How many of them?”

“I...I don’t know exactly. I think perhaps a hundred, maybe more. I don’t know!”

“Worthless child!”

Gurth heaved his frame out of his chair and lunged at Tom. The boy cringed and fell aside as Gurth shoved past him and and trudged through the door.

“Get out of my way, I’ll see to the matter myself.”

Tom stood alone in the doorway, his fists clenching and unclenching with a helpless passion.

“You’ve been very naughty, Tom. A good servant doesn’t run away without leave. Why should you forsake a good master for a bad one?”

Tom spun around. He could have sworn he heard the words just as clear as day. But he saw no one. Stumbling slightly, he stepped through the door and ran away down the hall, leaving the empty room behind him.

Then, as if from nowhere, a small red Fox crept out into the middle of Gurth’s chamber, his nose twitching madly. The scent of magic was overwhelming, filling the room and washing over Bartholomew’s senses like a tidal wave of intoxication. Everywhere there were treasures of all manner and description. Here in the heart of the witch’s stronghold were all the possessions and secrets of Gurth which Bartholomew had so long coveted.

But it was not yet time. Gurth himself still needed to be put out of the way. Summoning all his force of will Bartholomew darted out of the room and scampered out through the hall, headed for the rooftop.

High in the sky above Linster, lost in sea of darkness, Lindsey was clinging to the mail clad body of a Drixi rider, the wind whipping terrifyingly all around her. Eight Drixi Windhelms had been cruising in circles for some time now, each carrying with him a dubious passenger. As she clung to the Drixi, Lindsey felt a bizarre sort of horror in the knowledge that only a few short hours ago she had killed a number of this man’s comrades even as they killed hers in turn. It was terrifying now to think that her life was completely in his hands as they soared through the darkness. But thus far the Drixi had kept up their part of Hae-jin’s bargain.

The Drixi were flying almost tail to tail, still barely visible to each other in the darkness as they sliced through the chill night air. Lindsey could only hope that the Bird’s vision held up to its reputation and that they had been brought to the right place.

All of a sudden, there was a faint glint of gold fluttering beside the lead Drixi. Was it the Bird, come to tell them it was time to descend? Abruptly, the lead Drixi pitched down, the ghostly shape of his mount dropping out of sight. With expert precision, each Drixi guided his own mount down in turn in a practiced pattern, falling into order hardly without need of seeing one another. Down and down they spiraled, tightening their circles as they descended as the trained pterosaurs instinctively trimmed their wings to kill their speed. Suddenly, a great dark shape loomed up in front of Lindsey’s mount, and the Drixi rider swerved abruptly to correct his course at the last instant.

And then, with a muffled thud the pterosaur hit the roof of Gurth’s keep, crawling softly to a halt on its legs and wingtip claws. One by one, the Drixi deposited the rest of their passengers, and then departed again into the sky.

Creeping carefully across the steeply raked rooftop, the intruders gathered together in the gloom; five humans, three wogs, and the Bird, whose iridescent plumage was only faintly visible in the sparse starlight. In a moment they were also joined by a small red Fox, who was almost completely invisible in the darkness. After a short consultation they gingerly felt their way slowly across the roof to where a suitable descent had been charted out in advance, while the Bird disappeared alone into the air and made for the outer walls. Theirs was a tightly woven plan, and each had a part to play in precise sequence.

Along the castle walls, Gurth’s men were mounted a sparing guard. There were barely enough of them to fully man the walls at once, and most of these were garrisoned for the night, reposing as best they could.

In the inky darkness, a meaty claw soaked and reeking with moat water gripped the edge of the parapet which ran along the castle’s southern face. Just as she had done at the Drixi fortress so many weeks ago, Ursilda was now scaling the walls of Ardgar. And just as before, she was there to create mayhem, trusting that the others would execute their parts as competently (nearly) as she. A few moments ago the Bird had touched down beside her and given the word to attack. Now as she heaved her great form over the battlements she loosed a mighty bellow which echoed through the night, announcing to the inhabitants of Ardgar Castle that their doom was upon them. For Ursilda had come!

A cry went up from the southern wall. Soon, Gurth’s men were pouring out of the barracks, stumbling through the darkness as they converged on the south wall. Faintly through the gloom, the form of the great wightbeast could be seen silhouetted on the battlements, hurling men in all directions.

As the pandemonium continued to spread along the southern end of the courtyard, on the opposite side of the castle Lindsey stole along in single file with the others as Bartholomew led them stealthily to the gatehouse. The attention of the garrison was now entirely focused on the opposite side of the castle, and for the moment the way was clear as the sounds of tumult and discord echoed across the courtyard. It was as if the great Bear was doing battle with the entire fortress at once. Lindsey could only hope Ursilda would make it through somehow. Or for that matter, than any of that any of them would make it through.

There was a shimmer of green satin in the dark, and Edith stole up beside Sykes.

“Continue to the gatehouse as planned, I will remain behind and make sure that Gurth is kept occupied.”

“Woman, are you mad?”, Sykes hissed, “You cannot face him alone! My lady, stop!”

Syke’s protests were in vain, for Edith had already slipped away in the darkness. From down at their feet, the voice of the Fox whispered in the darkness.

“Let the woman go. I’m sure she will manage. We have no time to waste!”

Reluctantly, Sykes resumed following the Fox, creeping along at the base of the wall while chaos reigned in the darkness all around. There, there just ahead was the gatehouse. With the Fox as their guide they made for the most discreet entrance they could manage and wound their way to the great winches. Ardgar castle was protected by a drawbridge, behind which there was a double set of doors, each with its own portcullis, and the ponderous engines which controlled these defenses were nestled within the upper stories of the gatehouse directly above the gates themselves. Bartholomew already knew what guards would be posted along their path, most of whom would be keeping watch from the battlements, or may else have dispersed to join the fracas in the courtyard. What few unfortunates they came upon were dealt with swiftly at the silent point of a dagger, and in short order they had captured the winch room.

On the first level above the gates there were two great windlasses, one for the drawbridge and the other for the inner portcullis. The windlass for the outer portcullis was located on the next floor up. As soon as they had taken the room, Sykes and Falknir threw themselves onto one of the winches while the Wogs took the other. Only Dackery remained with Lindsey now, and the two of them ran upstairs to the upper level.

A single windlass was there, a great cylindrical timber bound up with oily chains and pulleys and pierced with square holes to accept a set of removable levers, which were stacked against the wall nearby. From down below Lindsey could hear the ominous creaking of the engines working in the lower room. It wouldn’t be long now before the guards above them realized what was happening and descended on them with force. Lindsey and Dackery quickly siezed the levers and ramming them into the windlass began straining themselves against the torpid machine, while the Fox kept watch at the door.

A shout went up from the battlements, as down below the drawbridge came crashing down to the ground. A moment after it came to earth, a great hand slithered out of the murky waters below and grasped onto the ledge of the bridge. With a heave and a splash, a giant pulled itself out of the moat and rolled to his feet on the bridge. The outer portcullis was nearly lifted now, and with a bellow the giant shoved it up the rest of the way and barrelled through the gates, prepared to hold them against all comers. Meanwhile, high above in the gloom the Bird had been keeping watch. With the drawbridge down he now flew madly to the village where Hae-jin’s horsemen were waiting.

Lindsey and Dackery were now securing the portcullis in place. From the room down below, Lindsey could hear the terrible clamour of heavy fighting. The guards were attempting to storm the lower room, and from the sound of it Sykes, Falknir and the Wogs were giving them a terrific fight. Lindsey met Dackery’s eye as he dug into his belt pouch and retrieved his pistol, racking the action to load the first round from his last magazine of ammunition. Distantly, Lindsey thought she could hear the sound of a trumpet coming from outside the castle. If Gurth’s men captured the winch rooms now, they would be able to drop either portcullis down straight on top of Hae-jin’s men. It was all up to them now to make sure that didn’t happen.

Suddenly, there was a cry from the door, and with a great blast of purple lighting Bartholomew was hurled from the threshold and cast senseless against the far wall.

With a howl, two great wolf-like creatures galloped through the door, their jaws slavering and their eyes burning with a red fire. With a deafening barrage Dackery emptied his last magazine into both creatures, and the foul animals tumbled over one another into a heap on the floor.

And then, Gurth himself strode into the room.

Lindsey had no doubt who the man was. Gurth was arrayed in a luxurious, taupe colored suit of armor keenly crafted with an evil looking aesthetic. His left hand was empty, and in his right he carried a weapon with a curved, pick like blade on one end and a small hammer head on the other, mounted on an iron shaft about two feet long with a writhen handguard shaped like a coiled serpent. He wore no helmet, and his face was disfigured with a massive, sooty burn, which ran from the top of his head clear down the entire left side of his body, leaving his fine armor charred and partially deformed. The valor of the Lady Edith had clearly been spectacular, yet clearly too it had been in vain.

Gurth glared at Lindsey with a look of blind rage, followed by a dawning of recognition.

“You!”

Suddenly, Dackery drew his sword and placing himself between Lindsey and Gurth he fell upon the enemy. As Dackery lunged forward Gurth threw up his empty hand and from his armored palm a blast of violet ball lighting burst in front of Dackery’s face, and with a mighty blow Gurth plunged his pick into deep into Dackery’s body and struck him down.

Lindsey screamed in agonized horror as Dackery’s form fell limply to the ground. With a shriek of rage she seized her axe in both hands and hurled herself at the witch. With an incantation on her lips she torqued her weapon in a tight arc and brought the enchanted blade down on Gurth’s left arm just below the elbow, cleaving through the hardened steel plate as though it were but thin foil and shearing his arm clear off.

Gurth recoiled and cried out in agony as his severed arm fell to the ground, its dead fingers still twitching with a few sparks of purple lightning. Yet even as blood gushed forth from his maimed body Gurth’s strength seemed to intensify rather than dissipate. His eyes blazed with violet fire as his body surged with unnatural forces. With another shriek, Lindsey pressed the attack. Down through the corridors of the gatehouse they fought, as Lindsey drove the witch away from the winches. Weapon clashed against weapon as Lindsey expended every last bit of skill the weapon had given her. Yet even so, Gurth was slowly gaining strength. They fought all the way out onto the castle walls, and the walk beneath their feet was beginning to pool with the witch’s blood as Gurth fought now with a diabolical fury, as if every shred of power he had left was being channeled and consumed all at once. With a final, mighty curse on his lips, Gurth’s weapon blazed with lighting as he brought it down on Lindsey, shattering the shaft of her battle axe with a great blast and hurling the girl away from him to slam hard into the doorframe of the gatehouse.

Gurth stood now triumphant on the walk, his foe lying broken and helpless a half dozen yards away. Yet as the witch gazed out into the courtyard, he realized that all was at last lost. During his battle with Lindsey Hae-jin’s horsemen had made it across the drawbridge and poured into the castle. The noble men at arms were now fighting in the courtyard alongside the giant, while under the shadow of the walls the great Bear had slain many and was driving the survivors to their deaths beneath the swords of sergeants and knights. The violet light faded from the witches eyes, and as his shoulders sagged and slumped he cast his weapon aside and lurched back along the walk in the direction of the keep, defeated.

Deep within the keep, Tom Oates was hiding beneath a table in Gurth’s personal chambers, a loaded crossbow clutched in one hand and a quiver of bolts and loading lever in the other. From the door there suddenly came a crash, and as Tom was scrambling to lay a bolt on his weapon he saw Gurth stagger in through the door. Tom stared with shock his master’s appearance. His frame was slouched and broken, his armor battered and blasted and his left arm was no more.

“You, boy”, the witch commanded, “Help me.”

Tom scrambled out from under the table and ran over to his master’s side. As the sounds of fighting in the courtyard were slowly diminishing he assisted Gurth in fitting a crude dressing to the stump of his arm. The clamor of battle outside had all but faded away now, and the call of a trumpet now sounded in the courtyard. Tom helped Gurth gather up a few precious belongings, and then taking up his crossbow he followed as the witch heaved his way through the passages to the rear of the keep.

In the back of the building, very nearly on the top story, there was a large balcony. Adjacent to this was a bizarre architectural feature: A tiny stable, high above ground among the topmost floors of the keep. A lone horse was quartered there, a sinister looking animal with long shaggy hair of a blue-grey color. Gurth commanded Tom to help him saddle the horse up. In a few moments the animal was ready, and with his one good arm Gurth swung himself awkwardly into the saddle, while Tom fetched his crossbow and quiver.

“Take me with you, my lord. I shall serve you faithfully wherever you go.”

Without a word, Gurth spat in Tom’s direction and spurred his horse. The animal leaped clear over the guardrail of the balcony and climbed into the air.

A wave of cold fury swept over Tom Oates, and as the horse was disappearing into the gloom the boy knocked a bolt in his crossbow and loosed a shot at the retreating shape of his master.

An inhuman shriek cut through the night, the death cry of animal. Faintly in the shadows, Tom saw Gurth’s horse buck and tumble in the air as it fell with its rider into the abyssal darkness below.

From behind Tom, there now came a gentle cough.

Tom whirled around. There, sitting primly in the doorway, his fur just a bit singed and bedraggled, was that cursed Fox.

The Fox gazed at Tom with a pair of wild amber eyes, and he licked his jowls languidly.

“Well done, my lad. You have proven to be a good servant after all. Gurth was never a fitting master for you. You deserve to serve one who is far wiser, and far mightier than he. Come, we have a great deal of work to do.”

Tom lowered his weapon as his arms fell slack. The rage inside him faded away, leaving behind only weakness and pliance. Setting down his crossbow, he obediently followed the Fox back inside the keep, running to keep up as the Fox darted through the halls in the direction of Gurth’s chambers.

Inside the gatehouse, the upper winch room was still, save for the desperate sobs of Lindsey as she cradled Dackery’s body in her lap. She had crawled back inside to find Dackery lying alone on floor and no sign of the Fox. She had torn off a portion of her under turnic and was pressing the bunched up linen as tightly as her shaking hands could against the gaping wound in Dackery’s body as she cried uncontrollably.

From the door, the was a stumble of footsteps, and Falknir stepped in. He looked a mess, but healthy and in good spirits.

“Aha, there you are! Good news, the castle is ours! I say, is everything alright?”

Lindsey could only blubber a sob in reply as Falknir stepped authoritatively over to Dackery’s side and took the cloth from her hands.

“Let me attend to Dackery. Go out to the courtyard and find Hae-jin. Joan had the good sense to make Hae-jin bring her along after all. She’s attending to the wounded now. She’ll see to it that our friend makes it through.”

With a final sob and sniff, Lindsey tore herself away from Dackery’s side and ran away to the courtyard. As she wound her way among the victorious soldiers, the word was going around that a broken body had been discovered lying outside the castle walls.

At long last, Gurth was dead.