Almost abruptly, the battle was over. The last two Mandrocs slithered to the ground and the victors stood motionless amid the gaping wounds and hacked limbs of their enemy.
Only the raucous sound of heavy breathing could be heard.
The silence was only momentary, however.
‘The rider. The Mathidrin. Where is he?’ Hawklan’s voice was strained as he ran forward into the middle of the street. ‘Gavor, find him’
But even as Gavor rose up into the air, Dacu had snatched up his bow and was running to the end of the street. Hawklan and the others ran after him.
As they reached him, he was drawing the bow back to fire. Galloping rapidly into the distance was the Mathidrin officer.
‘You’ll never...’ someone began.
Hawklan’s hands shot out, fingers extended, imposing an absolute silence and stil
