The Heroes

shield. Not much fun watching that shaft spin down, wondering whether the wind would snatch it at the last moment and put it right through him. It glanced off the stone and spun harmlessly away. Not a lot of air between your death and an arrow in the grass.
    The man who’d shot it paused on one knee, fiddling with his quiver as the safety of the shields crept up the slope away from him. Athroc’s shaft took him in the stomach. Craw saw his mouth open wide, his own arrow flying from his hand, his scream coming a moment later, sputtering out into a long-drawn wail. Maybe it was the sound of their odds getting thatlittle bit better, but Craw still didn’t much like hearing it. Didn’t like the notion that he might be making a sound like that himself before the hour was out.
    The end of the shield wall got ragged as men looked over at the howling archer, wondering whether to help or press on, or just wondering whether they’d be next. Hardbread barked orders, straightened up his line, but Wonderful’s next arrow flitted close over their heads and bent ’em out of shape again. Craw’s people had the height as an ally, could shoot fast and flat. Hardbread’s had to shoot high, where the wind was sure to drag their shafts around. Still, there was no call to take chances. They wouldn’t be settling this with arrows.
    Craw let Drofd loose one more, then grabbed his arm. ‘Back to the others.’
    The lad jerked around, looking like he was about to scream. Battle lust on him, maybe. You never could tell who’d get it. Mad fear and mad courage are two leaves on one nettle all right, and you wouldn’t want to grab a hold of either one. Craw dug his fingers into the lad’s shoulder and dragged him close. ‘Back to the others, I said!’
    Drofd swallowed, Craw’s hand squeezing the sense back into him. ‘Chief.’ And he stumbled back between the stones, bent double.
    ‘Fall back when you have to!’ Craw shouted at Wonderful. ‘Take no chances!’
    ‘Too fucking right!’ she hissed over her shoulder, nocking another shaft.
    Craw crept backwards, keeping an eye out for arrows until he was past the stones, then hurrying across the circle of grass, stupidly happy to get another couple of moments safe and feeling a coward because of it. ‘They’re on the— Gah!’
    Something caught his foot and he twisted his ankle, pain stabbing up his leg. Limped the rest of the way, teeth bared, and fell into line in the centre.
    ‘Evil, those rabbit holes,’ whispered Shivers.
    Before Craw could gather the wits to answer, Wonderful came running between two of the Heroes, waving her bow. ‘They’re past the wall! Got one more o’ the bastards!’
    Agrick was at her heels, swinging his shield off his back, an arrow looping over from behind and sticking into the turf by his boots as he ran. ‘The rest are coming!’
    Craw could hear their shouting from down below, still the faint scream of the stuck archer, all turned strange by the wind. ‘Get back ’ere!’ he heard Hardbread bellow, short on breath. Sounded like they were still losing shape on the run up, some eager, some the opposite, not used to fighting together. That favoured Craw’s crew, most of ’em been together for what felt like centuries.
    He stole a glance over his shoulder and Scorry winked back, chewing away. Old friends, old brothers. Whirrun had his sword out of its sheath,great length of dull grey metal with hardly a gleam to its edge even in the sun. Like the runes had said, there was going to be blood. The only question was whose. It passed between ’em as their eyes met, no words spoken and none needed.
    Wonderful knelt at the end of their little line in the shadow of Athroc’s shield, nocked an arrow, and Craw’s dozen were ready as they’d ever get.
    Someone crept around one of the stones. His shield might’ve had something painted on it once but so scuffed by war and weather there was no telling what. Sword bright in his hand, helmet on, but he hardly looked like anyone’s enemy. He looked knackered, mouth hanging open, panting from the long climb.
    He stood staring at ’em, and they stared back. Craw felt Yon straining next to him, bursting to go, heard Shivers’ breath crackling through gritted teeth, heard Brack growling deep in his throat, everyone’s jangling nerves setting everyone else’s jangling even worse.
    ‘Steady,’ Craw hissed, ‘steady.’ Knew the hardest thing at a time like that was just to stand. Men ain’t