He stepped forwards and barely managed to stop before the knife at his throat pierced his skin.

“Cradle of the Goddess, Tam!” His mother withdrew her knife and made way for them to enter. As soon as they were through she glanced out at the field and pushed the door shut again. “I thought you were trolls. Young Sora just came through here, said trolls are making their way into Spring. I thought I’d go join the sentries at the barricades.”

“I have a more important job for you now,” Tamani said, striding to his mother’s room and laying Jamison down on her cot.

“Earth and sky, is that . . . Jamison?” his mother exclaimed, already pulling off her arm guards and dropping to her knees by the side of the bed. “What happened to him?”

Tamani explained as quickly as he could. “We have to wake him up. I thought you might assist Laurel with that.”

“Of course,” his mother agreed, stripping off the rest of her armour. “It’s a shame old Tanzer joined the Silent Ones, he’d know just what to do.”

“I hadn’t heard,” Tamani said, his shoulders slumping in disappointment. He’d dared to hope . . . but Laurel would manage. She had to!

Seeing the confusion on Laurel’s face, he explained, “Tanzer was a friend of my mother’s. He . . . used to live near here.”

“Finest Mixer I ever knew,” Tamani’s mother said, pressing her hands to Jamison’s ashen cheeks. “Once upon a time I knew them all. Not many Mixers come to live in Spring, though.”

“You mentioned barricades?” Tamani asked.

His mother nodded. “The main road – near the laundry huts. When the trolls breach that we’ll be fighting in the streets.”

Not if, when. Hopelessness threatened to consume him; the Queen had turned her back on them, Jamison was incapacitated, the Gate Garden had fallen.

At least they still had David.

And David had the sword.

“Do whatever you can for Jamison,” Tamani said, meeting Laurel’s eyes. “Any Mixer trick you can think of – just do it. We have to go to the barricade – do what we can.”

Tamani’s mother frowned at him, then stood and pulled him to the side where Laurel and David couldn’t hear her. “I know who this is,” she said in her mother voice, inclining her head toward David. “Do not go out there and get him killed to serve your own purposes, Tam. A dishonourable victory is no victory at all.”

But Tamani was already shaking his head. “It’s not like that. He has the sword, Mother. The one Shar used to whisper about. It’s real, and I’ve watched him use it.” He glanced up at David. “With Jamison down, he’s our only hope.”

His mother was silent for a moment. “Is it really so dire?”

Tamani squeezed her hand.

“Then go,” she said. “Goddess protect you both.” She started to step away, then reached out for his arm, pulling him close again and pressing one hand to his cheek. “I love you, son. No matter what happens today, you remember that.”

Tamani swallowed hard and nodded. He turned to Laurel and she looked like she wanted to say something, but Tamani wasn’t sure he could stand to hear it. He edged away from her to face David. “You ready?”

They had almost made it to the door before Laurel cried out, “Tam, David!” Tamani closed his eyes and steeled himself against her protests, but for a moment she said nothing. And then, to his surprise, she only whispered, “Be safe.”

Grateful for her understanding, Tamani waved and led David out the front of the house, back towards the main road. It wasn’t long before telltale sounds of battle reached their ears. “Blighted trolls are so fast,” Tamani muttered under his breath. His fingers tightened around his spear; it was time to fight again. He had rarely fought – or even trained – with such a fine weapon. It brought down trolls so much easier than the small knives he usually carried. Good weapons meant dead trolls, and with every dead troll he felt like Laurel was that much safer.

And what could matter more?

“I want you to focus on trolls with guns,” Tamani called over his shoulder to David. “If the fight at the gate was any indication, there won’t be many, but most fae here won’t even know what a gun is, much less to fear it.”

“Sure,” David said tightly. Tamani had to admit, for an untrained civilian, David was dealing well with everything that had been thrown at him.

Tamani gave a brief wave of acknowledgment as they passed under a rooftop full of archers shooting arrows over a sturdily constructed barricade. Sharpened stakes – repurposed fence posts, mostly – stretched across the main road where it dipped between two hills, atop which more archers had gathered and were raining arrows and sling stones on any trolls that tried to go round the long way. Most of the fighting was taking place in the slight valley at the mouth of the road, but some trolls had slipped through and were busy smashing as much of the barrier as they could manage.

Tamani raised his spear, but an arrow whistled through the air and struck his intended target square in the chest. Tamani shoved the misshapen beast to the side and kicked into a run, weaving through the barricade, David close behind him.

On all sides now he was surrounded by Ticers – and some of them even knew what they were doing, as retired sentries fought side by side with scythe-wielding Tenders and hammer-swinging Smiths. Still, it seemed to Tamani – as he stabbed a troll before it could kill the young Spring who was slapping at trolls with a long-handled shovel – that there were far too many green saplings in the mix. He almost opened his mouth to tell the kid to go home, but what would he do there? Wait for the trolls to come in and kill him? No, Tamani decided – he wouldn’t discourage bravery. Even stupid bravery.