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her twenty or so women held back the attackers. The women were badly outnumbered, but none of them had fallen, while the Burners had taken heavy losses already—to my untrained eye, it seemed the rebels fought clumsily and without coordination.
    I saw a slender redheaded woman of Bryndine’s company darting between foes, distracting one for a companion then lunging at another; a squat, stocky blond woman barrelling into a group of three men like a barbarian warrior and cleaving them down with her axe; Tenille’s sword flashing in the firelight as she expertly disarmed her foe. Bryndine and Sylla fought side by side, and I was unsurprised to see that Sylla wielded her longsword with a terrifying ferocity, striking with blinding speed as she guarded her Captain’s flank. I know little enough about combat, but it was clear to see that these women were extremely skilled.
    Bryndine Errynson put the rest of them to shame. She wielded in one hand a sword that most could only have held with two, swinging it in heavy arcs that cleaved through armor and flesh and bone as easily as if she were chopping rotted wood. Her shield was a wonder to watch too, despite her wounded arm—the big steel disc moved with incredible precision and speed, deflecting blows that I scarcely even saw coming. She wasted no effort on useless motion, simply broke an opponent’s attack on her shield, waited for an opening, and then cut her foe down with a single stroke. I had thought Sylla the more dangerous of the two, but where she often needed to land three or four decisive blows to fell her target, Bryndine rarely needed more than one.
    Several men of Waymark waded into the fray, refusing to keep to their homes despite Bryndine shouting for them to find safety. Unarmored and armed only with makeshift weapons, they soon paid the price for their mistake. Iayn Gerynson chopped into a man’s side with a heavy shovel, but as he was pulling it free, another of the rebels rammed a sword into his back. Iayn fell to his knees. He tried to stand, but the man he had struck—seemingly unhindered by the deep gouge in his side—caved in the big tanner’s head with a spiked mace. Other men fell as well, but I recognized few of them through the smoke, and then the rest were retreating in terror while Bryndine and her women guarded their retreat.
    I could only watch as it happened, as men I had known for years were cut down. The terror growing in my chest locked me in place, a terror more pure than anything I had ever known. The voices in my head grew louder, wilder. They were angry and in pain, and so I was too, and it only added to my fear. But at least I could claim one small grace: I was not the focus of their attention.
    And then I felt that change.
    It was like the slow turning of a great invisible eye; an unseen force gradually becoming aware of my presence. I had been caught eavesdropping, hearing something I was not meant to hear. The macabre chant focused on me, every word resounding as clearly as ringing crystal. “ Pain, ” the voices chanted. “ Fire. Death. ” I realized with dread what was coming.
    “ BURN ,” the voices ordered. And I did.

Chapter Six
     
    The King’s Army is one of two bodies created to uphold Erryn’s Promise. While the Justices of the White Hall determine what it means to keep the Promise and whether or not a King has done so, the Army is the instrument by which it is actually kept. They have protected the Kingsland faithfully through seven recorded Barbarian Incursions, and more than one rebellion from within our own borders.
    Each of the six baronies of the Kingsland has its own Army brigade, made up of five to ten companies of four hundred men, each led by a Captain. Each brigade has a primary company—the First in Three Rivers through to the Sixth at the Bridgefort—whose Captain is also Commander of the brigade. The Captain of the First Company serves as High Commander of the entire King’s Army.
    — From Dennon