The Elietimm were coming down the track at a fair pace but, now I could see them more clearly, I saw all was not the highly trained efficiency we had come to expect. They were being led by an individual in a long black cloak whose very posture proclaimed arrogance, and he was being shadowed by a burly hulk with silver chains gleaming round the upper arms of his jerkin and the natural swagger of a second-in-command. This was all very impressive and the four following them looked suitably alert and well trained. What let their parade down was the lard-arse puffing along at the rear. He moved with the grace of a pregnant sow, though rather more slowly, and he was falling further and further behind.

As I watched, the others halted and the one I would have called a sergeant was clearly shouting at Fatty, reminding me of every reason I've ever had for avoiding working in an organised militia. I caught snatches of the guttural abuse and realised the breeze was coming off the land, which would work to our advantage. Any noise we made would be carried away from them and the long shadow of the boathouse stretched away to my left, which meant the sun would be in their eyes as well. We had to make use of every possible advantage and I quickly scanned my surroundings for anything useful.

I pulled a nicely tanned skin down off a rack in a moment and grabbed some shears to cut a sling. It wasn't the same as poisoned darts but at least I'd have something to hit the bastards with before we met hand to hand. I paused for a moment, hacked off another strip, sliced a hole in the centre and produced myself an instant leather tabard which had more chance than a woollen tunic to turn a blade. The only other potentially useful things I could see were a clutch of heavy spears lashed together out of sections of wood, bone and leather. I picked one up and, keeping an eye out through the crack in the door, weighed it dubiously in my hand. I'd be better off trying to throw one of the paddles but perhaps I could use it as a sort of pike, which is a useful weapon so long as you can keep the bastard trying to slice you up at the pointed end.

I propped a handful of the spears against the door and bent to feel around for sling-sized pebbles on the shingle floor as I watched the sergeant move back along the track to give Fatty a personal kicking. Movement in the long grass on the seaward side of the dunes caught my eye and Ryshad risked a brief glance over the tussocks. I slipped the bar from the door, cracked it open and waved him down, thinking fast. The Elietimm had to be coming to guard the boats and, as far as I was concerned, alone and discovered meant dead. The four of us might have been able to take the seven of them but Shiv was out of the game for a stand-up fight. What we needed was to get together and hold them off just long enough to push a boat into the water and escape. This was the time for a distraction and I just hoped Ryshad would be able to hold Aiten back long enough for me to manage one.

A side window gave me a view towards the huts and I could just see the grey-green thatch of a roof. Setting a fire has always been a favourite option when I've needed to divert unwelcome attention and this would have the added advantage of occupying whoever might be living in the little settlement since I didn't fancy adding men used to putting spears through swimming sea-beasts to the opposition.

I concentrated on the patch of roof with all my might and sang out the words of the cantrip, drawing on every Forest rhythm bred in my bones. Nothing seemed to happen for a sickeningly long moment, then I saw a grey haze spiral skywards and greedy snatches of flame licking at the thatch. I eased the door open again and saw the others were all now crouching cautiously at the very edge of the cover. Saedrin bless them, they were obviously going to make a break to support me, whatever the risks.

I held them still with an open palm and watched the Elietimm detachment carefully. The sergeant was now nose to nose with Fatty and prodding him in the chest to punctuate his words. The officer in the cloak was watching with proud aloofness while two of the others were clearly enjoying seeing someone else get a poke in the stones for a change. All three jumped when one of the others caught sight of the fire spitting up over the roofs of the huts and shouted; I very nearly laughed despite the dangers of our situation as they moved, halted, looked wildly at each other and then started up the right-hand fork of the track.

I flung the door open and waved the others in, heart racing as I stood helplessly motionless, sling in hand as they raced across the open ground. Aiten and Ryshad had Shiv between them, his arms over their shoulders, and I swear his boots stayed dry as they crossed the little stream. I really thought they were going to make it but as they passed the cluster of boats, some alert bastard looked back to the sea and saw them, his yell silencing the rising murmur of panic from the huts.

As the others reached me in the mouth of the boathouse, the soldiers turned to face us and I saw a gold gorget at the throat of the officer flash in the sunlight.

'Thank you, Lord of the Sea,' Aiten breathed with savage satisfaction.

'How so?' I asked nervously as I saw him tighten his grip on his sword in a purposeful manner.

'That's the bastard who was in charge of trying to kick my stones up through my ribs earlier.'

I could see he was spoiling for a fight and I suppose it was hard to blame him.

'Look, Ait, we just need to hold them off until we can get a boat in the water,' I warned him. 'We can't take them on in a straight fight.'

'I'll deal with the boat.' Shiv was looking strained but alert and I flashed him a quick smile.

'I'll help.' Ryshad passed the spears to Aiten. 'Try and spoil someone's day with these.'

Aiten grinned with a savagery I'd never seen on his good-natured face before and he hefted the solid missile with an ease which spoke encouragingly of experience. I sorted out a good handful of stones and we crouched in the doorway as the enemy drew closer.

'I don't think they can see us,' I murmured with wonder as they came onwards, the one who'd raised the alarm gesturing to the rest as they looked all around the boats and the boathouse. The sergeant was still to the rear, giving Fatty a hard time, and this was clearly distracting the others.

'We're in shadow, aren't we? They have the sun in their eyes.' Aiten narrowed his eyes measuringly then rose with an explosive shout to hurl his spear.

'Catch, shit for brains!'

I don't know if it was the surprise or the sunlight dazzling him but the first one just stood there till the heavy spear ripped right through his chest, sending him crashing to the ground in a welter of blood and gurgles. The shock halted the others long enough for Aiten to launch a second spear into the air but they were soon moving when they realised what was coming their way. Much good it did them; Aiten had clearly done this before and another one went down screaming like a pig with the head of the spear embedded in his leg.

Harsh yet oddly musical syllables rang out over his screams and I realised the officer was starting a chant as Ryshad and Shiv broke for the boats. Shiv worked on the rope of one while Ryshad put his sword through the bottom of the others.

'Dozy bitch, a gorget means magic, doesn't it?' I muttered angrily to myself as I rapidly wound up the sling with an egg-sized stone. You can forget any nonsense about hitting him between the eyes, I aimed for his chest. The stone flew hard and true and he doubled over, sinking to his knees with a screech that promised a cracked rib at the very least.

'Right, you bastards, I'm going to kill you!' Aiten launched himself out of the doorway, sword in one hand, dagger in the other.