She leaned back. “Oh my. You need to be careful with that bass of yours, Colossus. You speak any louder and the entire cavern may collapse.”

He stared, saying nothing. Not even the hint of a smile. This man is not easily charmed.

She smiled calmly and glanced back the way she had come. No sign of Ben just yet. “Those two are very sensitive about their skills at liar’s dice,” she said. “Is it played among all of the men here?”

“Most,” Sir Talmer told her. “Not much else to do, half the time.” It was part of the reason behind his desire to leave, she knew, the boredom of life on these isles. And there’s some honour in him as well, rusted and old, yes, and in need of a good polish, but it’s there. Sir Talmer wanted to lend his blade to the war effort, such as it was, the same as the other men they’d recruited. All were sick to the back teeth of serving the Lord of Lard.

“No battles?” Amara asked, pretending as if she didn’t know. She did, of course. She had spoken to Sir Talmer and Sir Ryger and Sir Hockney and Brazen Ben and a host of others about their experiences here. Why they’d come, how long ago, what they’d been doing in the months and years and, in some cases, decades since. Though there were occasional uprisings from one local pirate lord or another, testing the Great One’s rule, there had not been any significant conflict here in long years. These men have been reduced to snaring passing ships for their tolls. To a knight, even a disgraced one, that was an execrable existence. It was no wonder so many of them had opted to join her.

“Not for a while,” Sir Talmer answered, playing along with her. He seemed to sense that she was trying to buy some time. “Tis a rare day we draw our blades, my lady.”

“It must be dull,” she said, looking up. “Don’t you find it dull, Colossus? Living here?” He was one of the few she hadn’t spoken to much. Or at all. The man was half a mute, and rarely did he say a word. All she knew about him was that he came here with his brother, who had subsequently drowned when he fell from a longship during stormy weather. Apparently that brother had sworn the Great One his sword, and Colossus, loyal as he was, wanted to honour that. If it wasn’t for that fact, she might ask that he join them right now. But alas no. Best you join your brother instead.

“I do not think in those terms,” the giant rumbled. “I just do my duty.”

Duty to a sack of suet. She glanced back again. This time she sighted the gangly figure of Brazen Ben lolloping toward the willow tree. Both Squidge and Palmer had spotted him as well. They stood up from the rocks they’d been sitting on, turning to him confrontationally, facing away from the armoury. A few shouts rang out from them, curses echoing. Both men were waving at Ben angrily.

“I wonder what that could be about?” Amara said, all innocence.

“Sellswords like to argue,” growled Sir Talmer Hedgeside. “Those three especially. Been bickering for years.”

Further off, Sir Penrose and Jovyn were wandering along the shore, stopping occasionally to pick up a choice pebble and skim it along the water, as they had been before.

“Those are your men,” she heard Colossus say. His eyes were glaring at them. “They aren’t meant to be on this side of the island.”

“They’re doing no harm,” Amara said to that. “Goodness, all these rules.”

“The Great One’s rules.” The giant sellsword’s block-of-stone jaw clenched. That bite could snap godsteel, I’d wager. “You shouldn’t be this close either. You are not meant to come near the armoury.”

“Me?” Amara put a hand to her chest.

“Yes, you.” The cliff of man looked down at her. “Why are you here?”

She glanced at Sir Talmer, saw him flexing his sword hand, moving it to the hilt of his blade.

The giant did not miss it. “What was that?” he rumbled.

Amara frowned up at him, puzzled. “What was what?”

“That look you gave him.” The giant turned upon Sir Talmer, casting him in his shadow. “What did she say to you?”

“Nothing. Stand down, Colossus. You’re always on edge.”

The giant reached a hand behind his back, gripping the handle of his greatsword, though didn’t draw it. He looked between Sir Talmer and Amara, sensing some collusion. This isn’t going well. “What are you doing here, I asked you.”

Her frown became aggrieved. “I came to look at the rock pools. What harm am I doing? You don’t need to be so aggressive.”

“No,” Sir Talmer agreed. “Remember who you’re talking to, Colossus. The lady deserves more courtesy than that. She is the good sister of a king.”

The giant ignored him. “There are some rock pools up beyond the village, on the other side of the cavern. Go to them if you’re interested.”

“I’ve seen them a hundred times,” Amara came back. “The ones here are better, and bigger besides. And the fauna is more interesting.”

“I don’t care. You can’t be here.”

There was more arguing up the beach. Brazen Ben stood facing the other two, who stood aggressively in front of him, gesticulating. Amara’s eyes flicked across to Sir Talmer once again, hoping the giant would miss that one. She gave a nod, saw Sir Talmer grip his sword hilt, readying to draw his blade and strike.

She raised her eyes again, to the giant. He was looking down at them. Oh, she thought.

“I…” she started.

“Save it,” he said.

Then a hundred things seemed to happen at once.

Colossus pulled his greatsword from his back, Sir Talmer ripped his broadsword from its sheath, and the latter thrust forward, driving his blade into Colossus’s flank. The tip bit through the links of godsteel mail, the leathers beneath, and flesh. The giant gave out a choked howl of pain, but the sword had only made it two inches deep. Sir Talmer pulled back, swinging and slashing, hacking at the giant in a frenzy.

Amara stumbled away in alarm and turned to look up the beach. Squidge and Palmer had heard the commotion, and turned around, leaving Brazen Ben no choice but to act. Amara saw the man pull his blade, and swing, cutting through the nape of Palmer’s neck, who fell forward, grasping out with his hands, blood spurting up from the back of his head. His temple smashed sickeningly against the rocks as he fell. Squidge spun at seeing, it, reaching to draw his blade, but Brazen Ben was too quick. He slashed in a sidecut, hacking off Squidge’s sword arm, then followed up with a lunge through the chest and into the heart. Squidge never made a sound as he collapsed bonelessly to the ground. Then Ben was running, waving for the others to follow, and Sir Penrose and Jovyn were running too.

Amara’s eyes flew back to Sir Talmer. The old knight was in Blockform, fending left and right as Colossus bore down upon him, swinging that mighty greatsword. Talmer was a skilled swordsman, though, keeping the giant off balance with his movement. Away through the trees, some shouts were ringing out. Amara looked that way and saw Sir Hockney Barrow, another of their allies, bursting out of the foliage to join them as planned, dressed in oddments of amour and bearing a longsword in his grasp. He was a large man, Hockney, and came rushing in, swinging his blade in a two-hand grip, slashing at the giant from behind. Colossus roared, his coat of mail taking the brunt of it. As soon as he turned, Sir Talmer was on him, stabbing at his back, and a moment later Brazen Ben was there as well, the three men surrounding him like wolves about a bear.

“My lady, stand back, you’re too close…stand back!” That came from Sir Penrose, who came rushing up behind her, grabbed her arm and pulled her away. He had a godsteel blade in his grasp, taking it from the corpse of Squidge or Palmer, she guessed, and rushed in to use it, adding another sword to the fray. As that was happening, Jovyn was at the bars, cutting at the chains to release the door. He pulled the gate open and rushed inside, searching for their armour and weapons.

Colossus was bellowing like a broadback, turning, twisting, swinging wildly with his enormous blade. The sound of his voice echoed loudly through the cavern. Damn it, everyone will be hearing this. “Just finish him off,” Amara shouted. “For goodness sake, it’s four on one!”

Sir Penrose Brightwood obliged her. As Colossus swung at Brazen Ben, the gangly sellsword dashed back, and Brightwood came in behind. With a strong leap, he jumped up and swung down, hacking at the back of the giant’s head and splitting his skull wide open, right down to the neck. Blood and bits of brain burst forth, spraying everywhere, as the giant quivered and slumped forward, landing with a heavy thump. All that was left was his last brutal roar, echoing across the cave.

Sir Talmer came up to her, panting, yet unharmed. “That wasn’t meant to happen. We made far too much noise.”

There was no time for regrets now. “Get the arms and armour,” Amara said.

The men went to work, rushing in and out of the armoury, returning with breastplates, faulds, gorgets, gauntlets and helms, blades and sheathes and swordbelts. Amara could hear the ring of steel through the trees as they worked, feel the pumping of her heart as it hammered against her ribs.

Sir Talmer and Sir Hockney helped Penrose and Jovyn put on their armour, as Brazen Ben watched the trees. “Men coming,” he warned. “We got about thirty seconds before they get here.”

Amara looked over, saw the shadows approaching, lit by the lanterns in the branches. There was a lot of fighting back there, she sensed. Aside from her men here, she had a further dozen out there. Sir Ryger was one, Sir Mondant another, and Captain had recruited several others as well. One was a knight from Rasalan, Sir Montague Shaw, who’d served briefly with the Suncoats in another life, before suffering an injury. When he recovered the order had expelled him, claiming he was not up to their standards anymore. That bitterness had eventually brought him here. There were eight further sailor-soldiers with their sea-creature halfhelms and sealskin cloaks who Captain had brought on board.

And Connor, Amara thought. He would be in there too, fighting with the blade Sir Ryger Joyce would have given him. But without armour, he would be vulnerable. “Quickly!” Amara shouted. “Hurry up! We don’t have all night!”

Sir Penrose had his breastplate fixed, gauntlets too, and was fastening his swordbelt as Sir Talmer clicked his gorget into place. Once that was done, he picked up a shirt of godsteel mail, as well as a swordbelt with fixed sheath and dagger, and rushed over to her. “Take these, my lady. For protection.”

She didn’t much like the idea of wearing a shirt of mail, but supposed it was worth the precaution. “Fine.” She’d never worn such garb before. “Help me get it on, Pen.”

He did so, pulling it down her head and arms and torso, the heavy links settling uncomfortably on her shoulders, then girded her waist with the belt. It pulled at one side, where the weight of the godsteel dagger was attached. Ahead, some dozen or so men were emerging from the trees, pulling blades as they rushed down to the beach. Two were Bladeborn by the mists that came with them, the rest common men. Sir Talmer stepped out, shoving Brazen Ben aside. “You needn’t die,” he called out to them as they ran. “None of you. Lay down your arms and you’ll be spared.”

The men at the front didn’t heed him. The men at the back didn’t hear. Sir Talmer gave a grunt, and paced forward, in the confident stride of an experienced Bladeborn knight. Brazen Ben loped out beside him.

“Pen, we need to get to Carly,” Amara said. She could not remain here at the beach. She looked over. Sir Hockney was still fitting Jovyn’s armour, struggling with clumsy fingers. That’ll be long years of inactivity, she thought. He’s a blade that’s turned blunt, that man. “Jovyn, stay here,” Amara called to the squire. “Hold the beach.”