surmounted the barricades. A few screamed as the pitch stuck to them and burned, but most ignored the fragile missiles and let them shatter on the rubble. Jeers and hoarse screeches flew back at the defenders of Solnos from the unimpressed raiding party. Then the fragments of burning pitch grenades made it down to the naphtha and spirits-soaked rags that had been packed in between the dry timbers and rubble. Where burning pitch or oil met naphtha or spirits, fire bloomed, reaching out from under the chunks of cracked brickwork and snatching at the legs of the attackers. Gouts of flame burst upwards all along the barrier, forming a curtain of fire that separated the square from the rest of Solnos.
It sounded as if the town itself was screaming, as a few wounded defenders who couldn't get off the barricade and the less-than-human goblins were ignited. Their clothes burned on their backs and limbs, while their skin bubbled and softened, sticking the burning clothing to them.
Blazing goblins ran in blind terror. Some went back into the press of goblins that were stunned by the sudden inferno and ignited many of their own fellows in their thrashing. Others stumbled on through the flames and were dropped in the square by arrows from the church roof.
'At them!' Gabriella heard herself scream. Then she was running forward, her swords slashing left and right, slicing through limbs and throats. Beside her, Erak's longsword cut down everything in front of him and Kannis' troops rallied as they charged over the barricades, as soon as the fire had settled back down, in search of vengeance for their fallen man.
The other soldiers and townspeople fought just as hard, swords and axes biting into goblin flesh with gusto. Kerberos gazed down inscrutably as the fight spread out into the streets and beyond. The goblins were weakening, both physically and psychologically, and within the hour most of those who were being killed by the defenders were being struck in the back as they ran away.
By morning, no goblin still lived within the environs of Solnos.
CHAPTER 11
The sun cast its light over a square filled with blackened corpses and shattered arrows. The stink of blood and seared flesh hung in the morning air, with little enough breeze to dissipate it. The defenders of Solnos were bone-tired, none of them having slept more than an hour, just in case the goblins had planned a second assault.
Gabriella walked over to where Erak rested against the side of the church.
'Let's see if there are any goblin survivors,' she said. 'One of them may be able to tell us why they have come this far out from the World's Ridge.'
They made their way across the square, towards a sprawl of broken and battered goblin corpses. There were defenders mixed in there too, their blood mingling with the greenish ooze that flowed from goblin veins.
Travis Crowe was prodding some of the goblin bodies with his broadsword, just to make sure and he looked up as the two Knights approached.
'You enjoyed that, yeah?' He said. 'I know I did. There's nothing quite to so enjoyable as giving vent to your anger, is there love? Taking it out on someone who really deserves it.'
Gabriella shook her head. 'I don't enjoy killing.'
He shrugged. 'You should do. You're good at it.'
Gabriella ignored him and squatted between a decapitated goblin and a disembowelled one. She prodded at the headless corpse's ribcage, disturbing the flies that had begun to settle on the skin.
'Look how starved they were,' she said.
'You thinking of setting up a Mission to look after them?' Crowe mocked. 'A gobbo soup kitchen? I can see that going down well in Scholten. Look, God-girl; all that them being starved means is they'll fight twice as hard to get a bite of somebody, you see? It doesn't mean we should be understanding them.'
'What it means, sinner, is that they came along a route that didn't offer much food.' Her brow furrowed. 'If they had tried to go to Fayence they'd have been slaughtered.' She heard a racking cough from nearby. 'This one's still alive!'
Crowe made to draw his sword but Gabriella stopped him.
'Get a Healer and some rope,' she said and began hauling the goblin into the church. 'Erak,' she called, and he ran to join her. 'Come on.' Together they carried the goblin into the church.
Crowe shook his head in wonder. 'These religious types are touched in the head,' he muttered to himself.
Kratok-Chal exploded into wakefulness as cold water was splashed over his face. He coughed and realised he could still breathe. His belly no longer ached with hunger, but there was cold fire burning in his lungs and his side. He could smell his own blood.
He tried to rise, but found himself tied down. Several humans were looking down at him and he wanted to claw their faces off.
'What are your people doing up here?' one asked. It had short hair the colour of a blooded copper blade, and Kratok-Chal thought it was a female, though it wore mail and armour.
He spat black sludge. 'We're only the first, human girl. More follow. Revenge follows.'
The female frowned. 'Revenge? Revenge for what?'
'Don't lie, human girl. You know what for.'
'Imagine I don't.'
Kratok-Chal coughed and spat again. 'We had a good home. Good land. Good hunting. Until the humans came.'
'What humans?'
'The invaders. Men with swords of many tribes. They burned out our nests and killed our young as they slept.'
'Where did all this happen?' she asked.
Kratok-Chal spat in her face. 'You know where. Your people know where. That is how they can come.'
'Pretend I don't know.'
'Even if you don't know, human girl, I will not tell. Not tell and let more humans come to the Glass — ' He fell silent with a hiss, knowing he had said too much.
'The Glass what?'
'The Glass Mountain.'
'Glass Mountain? I've never heard of that town.'
'Not a town. Mountain. Mountain made of glass. Humans call it Freedom.''
The human female rocked back on her heels and Kratok-Chal was amused. Perhaps she was impressed by his stamina, or shocked that he had known the humans' secrets. It made him laugh, in the goblin fashion.
Unlike most victims of the battle, Kratok-Chal died happy.
Travis Crowe poked forlornly at the remnants of a wine jug with the toe of his boot. Unless he was willing to get down on his knees and lap up the damp sawdust from the church floor, he wasn't going to taste any of it. He looked out at the sky. Andon wasn't more than a couple of days' ride north of here. It'd be easy enough to disappear.
He went out into the square, wondering how much of a lead he would get before anyone noticed his absence. He also wondered how far he would get before running into more goblin warbands, because he couldn't believe this would be the only one. They would be avoiding the bigger cities, but the savannah was ideal territory for them.
All around, men and women, even children, were helping to repair the nearest buildings Crowe couldn't tell whether they were rebuilding in the belief that the danger was past or reinforcing the defences. A little of both, probably, he decided. In the plaza, the bodies of goblins were smouldering in a pyramid of leathery flesh. Crows circled around the smoke column. The dead among the defenders had been laid out along one wall of the church, covered by sheets that were weighted down with stones to keep the carrion creatures off them until they could be decently buried in a proper Faith ceremony.
