The crowd underneath began to riot while Denlin and Randur were pulled skywards, sailing above the scene below of thousands of citizens crammed between the walls.

A soldier-garuda shot towards them from one side.

Denlin looked up in time and aimed and fired. The arrow struck the bird-man’s face full on. The creature spiralled into the crowds below, which parted with a liquid elegance suggesting they now moved as a single entity.

Across the first and second walls, dodging arrows from the archer still standing. More arrows whipping from all sides now, but the garudas flew on regardless, hauling Randur this way and that, and it took determination not to be sick from the erratic flight.

The garudas landed simultaneously on the outer wall, with a skidding clamour of boots on stone. Then they released the men onto a surface that could only be four paces across, with nothing either side to keep them from falling to their deaths. More arrows sang past as the garudas took off and faded into the great cityscape above the rioting crowds.

Now for the hard part, Randur thought, as he turned to face the remaining soldiers.

He noticed how the guards had left Eir and Rika standing alone. Denlin kept taking aim from behind him, but his arrows weren’t much use against the men’s armour. As arrows pinged off the metal, Randur drew his sword, and stepped forward to meet the first of them.

Their heavy broadswords suggested they would be slow in such a narrow arena, which brought a confident smile to his lips.

The first made a lunge at him, bringing his sword down to clang against empty stone, but Randur had skipped back and now flicked his blade up through the soldier’s hand, and as the soldier gaped at his wound in disbelief, Randur kicked behind his knee, then pushed him over the rim of the wall. Randur drew his other sword and, one in each hand, stared warily at the two men directly in front of him.

Denlin shot an arrow into one’s face and with a gurgle he toppled to his death.

‘Cheers, Den!’ Randur cried out, and began carving into his opponents’ frenzied strokes with ease, one sword quickly across a face then, whilst the man instinctively pressed his palms to the bleeding wound, Randur kicked him off the side harbouring the refugees.

A noticeable cheer of triumph from below.

Denlin shot yet another soldier directly in the face, his helmet snapping back into the face of another. Randur continued to ram his blade into any exposed segments of flesh.

Guards continued freefalling to their death.

Down below, soldiers were massing to try to subdue the rioting, not helped by the fact that certain hired thugs kept hauling them to the ground and dispatching them. Then people emerged from the crowds to kick and pummel their victims, venting long-suppressed anger on the symbols of power in the city.

At the far end, further troops were gathering at the door giving access to the top of the wall. The few remaining guards approached him cautiously, thrusting their swords towards him reluctantly. Randur took them two at a time, tuning into his peripheral vision for guidance. Quick, subtle strokes. Deft footwork. An arrow from Denlin. It was soon over.

Randur glanced across the wall. Nothing between them and the women except perhaps fifty paces.

They ran.

‘Rand!’ Eir cried in relief, her brown robe flapping like a flag in the wind.

Randur arrived first and sliced through the rope securing her wrists while Denlin freed her sister. Randur handed a sword to Eir, who regarded it as if she couldn’t recognize its function.

‘I taught you how to fight, but not to kill,’ Randur panted. ‘I promise you it’s not much harder. You up for it?’

‘Yes, I am,’ Eir replied without hesitation, but with a look of terror on her face.

Randur indicated the soldiers now approaching, some way further along the long wall. ‘Those heavy swords impede their movements, to our advantage.’

‘Did you organize all this?’ Rika gestured to the commotion down below. The crowds had overpowered the military and violence had spread out to the neighbouring streets. The whole chaotic scene possessed a surreal texture, spoke of the power of the people, the power of long-term resentment. What had begun with just a few dozen brawlers now absorbed hundreds, the spirit of the city changing before their eyes, generating a confidence that came from citizens rather than their rulers – a true democracy. You would soon hear these screams and shouts on the far side of the Empire.

‘Den, mainly them,’ Randur said, pointing to the soldiers behind. ‘Not quite the time for a debate though.’

Randur then gestured for them to hurry. ‘There’s a boat waiting for us right now in the underground docks. We need to fight our way down to the tunnels running under the city.’ He reached into his boot for a knife, which he handed to Rika. ‘You may need this.’

‘I am not really the kind of woman to consider violence as a solution.’ Rika handed the knife back.

Be awkward, why don’t you. Randur frowned, sliding the blade back in his boot. ‘Righto, my lady, but you don’t mind if we kick a few arses to save your own?’

Denlin interrupted, ‘City soldiers are nearly here and I’m almost out of arrows.’

Randur said, ‘Rika, you stay behind us. Right, Eir, let’s show this lot a little Vitassi.’

The pair stepped forward with their swords up at the ready. The soldiers stared at Eir with confusion, a young woman of her pampered lineage preparing to meet them in conflict. Randur utilized their momentary hesitation to lunge out and rake his blade across one face. Before retreating, Eir swiftly repeated his gesture, and Randur noted her remoteness with approval. It was never a simple thing, to wound for the first time.

Two men crumpled to the floor, another came in place. Randur slipped on the wet stone, tumbling into the other man. They rolled awkwardly, pushing each other away from their own weapons. Randur reached for the man’s head, smashed his skull and kicked his body sideways off the wall.

He pushed himself up as another two soldiers shuffled forward. Eir faltered and Randur shouted for her to continue, to concentrate.

Side-by-side they were blocking blows, stepping gracefully out of the direction of strikes, and Eir learned from their opponents’ mistakes, waited for them, then wiped the razor-edge of her short sword across their necks or hands, never enough for a direct kill, but they collapsed off the wall to their deaths. Every time they did Randur could see something fade within her.

Denlin warned, ‘Last arrows,’ and killed two more.

‘Keep an eye out behind us for now, Den. Me and Eir will get rid of this lot easily.’ Randur noticed how Eir seemed enhanced by his boast of how effectively they worked together, regained her composure and put her mind into a protected place. She began a series of new moves that were far too complex for the guard she now parried with, overwhelming him with pace if not strength, till a swift diagonal stroke saw him paw his throat in panic. Then she kicked his weakened legs from under him and he buckled forwards.

One by one, the opposition was decimated.

The four of them finally had a clear path to the doorway. The riot below had moved away from the gates entirely, absorbing new energy in the ancient streets nearby, and already two trails of smoke rose from the lower level of the city.

They moved to the narrow stairs, which spiralled down.

‘How come there’re no more guards?’ Eir panted.

Breathless, Randur replied, ‘Rioting… All the trouble on the streets… Weren’t prepared for it to get out of hand.’

‘Smart,’ she gasped. ‘And all Denlin’s idea?’

‘A master plan,’ Denlin wheezed, and nearly tripped over the bow strapped across his chest.