I knew we had no chance, so when the arrow flew past my ear to shatter on the wall behind me, I was not too alarmed. Some fool wasted breath sounding a horn. I ignored it, as I ignored the cries of the men falling in front of me. One was dying and I finished another on the backstroke. I swung my blade wide, and unbelievably, they gave ground before me. I roared my triumph and stepped forward into the gap. My body shielded Dutiful's now. “Come and die!” I snarled at them all. My free hand beckoned them in. “Blades down!” someone shouted. I swung my sword again, but those confronting me gave ground, tossing their swords to the earth. They cleared the way for an archer to advance on me. Other bowmen backed him, but his nocked arrow pointed straight at my chest. “Put it down!” he shouted again. It was the boy who had ambushed us, the one who had shot Laurel, and then fled with her. As I stood panting, wondering if I should force him to kill me, Laurel spoke behind him. She tried to speak calmingly, but her voice shook.
“Blade down, Tom Badgerlock. You're among friends.” Battle makes the world a small place, makes all life no bigger than the sweep of your sword's length. It took me a time to come back to myself, and I was fortunate that they allotted me that time. I stared about, trying to make sense of what I saw, the archer and Laurel, and the folk who stood behind her, bows drawn. These were strangers, older folk than Laudwine's band. Six men, two women. Most carried bows but a few had only staffs. Some of the arrows were pointed at Laudwine's folk. They had dropped their swords and stood as much at bay as I was. Laudwine was on the floor, rolling in their midst, still clutching at his stump. Two steps and I could finish him at least. I drew a breath. Then I felt Dutiful's hand on my upper arm. He pushed down firmly. “Blade down, Tom,” he said evenly, and for a moment it was Verity's calming voice in my ear. The strength went out of my arm and I let the tip of my weapon drop to the floor. Each panting breath I took was a flow of torment down my parched throat.
“Drop it!” the archer repeated. He stepped closer, and I heard the small sounds of a bow drawn tauter. I felt my heart begin to race again. I calculated the distance I'd have to cover.
“Hold!” Lord Golden interceded suddenly. “Give him a moment to come to himself. Battlefury takes him and his mind is not his own.” He came, pushing his way to the front of the massed archers and then stepped out between them and me with a fine disregard for the arrows that now pointed at his back. He did not even glance at the Piebalds who grudgingly parted to let him through. “Easy, Tom.” He addressed me as if calming a horse. “It's done now. It's all done.”