“You’re eating, at a time like this?” exclaimed Corporal Cheston in disbelief.

     “What do you mean, a time like this?” demanded Private Grey around a mouthful of mutton pie. “We’re all about to die. What better time is there?”

     “Since we’re all about to go to the afterlife, I thought you might want to give some thought to the condition of your soul. Maybe spend a few minutes in quiet contemplation and prayer?”

     “Bit late for that I reckon,” replied the other man, taking another bite. “If we’re all going to Hell, to be punished for all eternity for our sins, I want to at least have a full stomach.”

     Cheston decided he couldn’t fault the other man’s logic. “Pity you don’t have any more of that fetid goats cheese on you. You could get out of here just by breathing on any Shad that gets in your way.”

     “I have got some, I was saving it for after. Want some?”

     Gallit’s company was squeezed in amongst all the other of the city’s defenders, just inside the west gate. Some of the other men of the company were shifting nervously, pale and sweating. Others were sharpening their weapons, determined to give as good an account of themselves as possible when the time came, their faces set and grim. Gallit himself had been walking up and down the ranks and files trying to give words of encouragement and hope, but his attempts had only reminded them of what was coming. Seeing this, Gordon and Grey had begun one of their inane dialogues, talking nonsense about anything that came into their minds, and it was this that had settled the men. A sense of normality. Mind numbing and soothing. Reminding the men of every other inane dialogue they’d had during patrols and missions that they’d come back from. Even Gallit himself drew comfort from it, and he silently blessed the two men.

     “It’ll slow you down, you know. Having a full stomach. Me, I know better. When the fighting starts I’ll be fast and agile. That’s why I’m the Corporal, you see, because I know how to think in tight corners.”

     “You’ll be thinking how hungry you are and that’ll distract you. Having a full stomach means I won’t be distracted. I’ll probably have to watch your back while you’re searching the battlefield for something to eat.”

     A messenger appeared, making his way amongst the men, giving last minute instructions to Captains who passed them on to the men under their command. Everything as quietly as possible so as not to be heard by the Shadowsoldiers on the other side of the wall. The breakout would take place precisely at noon, and every eye turned to look at the large ornate clock under the arching roof of the town hall. Ten minutes to noon. Hearts began to beat even faster and hands tightened on weapons and shields.

     There were several thousand men gathered before the gate in companies and regiments, all the fighting men remaining in the city. The tower stood almost empty for the first time in over a century. A space had been left clear in front of the gate itself with the infantrymen on either side of it. Between stood what was left of the city’s cavalry, the riders doing everything they could to keep their horses quiet. Fortunately there was quite a lot of noise coming from the other side of the wall, where the massed zombie legions were marching continually around the city, still trying to drive the defenders to a state of panic. The occasional whinny wouldn’t be heard by the enemy. Gallit looked up into the sky, where one of the wyverns ridden by the Shadow aerial cavalry was circling overhead. There was supposed to be a layer of illusion camouflage above them, hiding the assembled army from sight. Since the wyvern rider seemed calm and relaxed, he assumed it was working.

     “I was talking to Monk just now,” said Cheston, suddenly serious. “His company’s going to make a stand just outside the city. Form a square and hold as long as possible. We’re not getting out of this. You know it, I know it. They just want to take as many of the bastards with them as they can.” He glanced at the Sergeant, close enough to overhear.

     “I can’t order you to do that,” said Gallit with an uncharacteristically soft voice. “Our orders are clear. Fight our way clear of the city, make our way to Tatria.”

     “Even if, by some miracle, we do get out of the city,” said the Corporal, though, “There’s no way we’re going anywhere. We’ll have Shads on our tail the whole way. If I’m going to die, I want to be facing the bastard that does it. I’m not dying with an arrow in my back.”

     “In all the years I’ve known you,” said Grey earnestly, “That’s the first sensible thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

     Murders of agreement were coming from some of the other men as well. “Some of the men have family back west,” said Gallit, though. “They deserve the chance to see them again, no matter how slim.” He thought for a moment. “Okay, reform ranks,” he said. “All those who want to run for it, stand over there. Those who want to make a stand, stay here.”

     Nobody moved, though. Every man of Gallit’s company stood firm, looking back at their Sergeant with calm, steady eyes. There was no more shuffling, no more pale faces. “The Gods bless you all,” said the Sergeant quietly.

     “Alright,” he said more loudly. “We keep together. There’s no clear spaces in the city’s outer circle so we make for the outer wall as fast as we can. Just run and cut down anything that gets in your way. Once we’re through the outer gate we put our backs to the wall and make our stand there. Others may have the same idea. If they do, join up with them. The more men we have, the longer we’ll stand. Then we just fight as long as we can. Last man standing buys the first round in Hell.”

     Murmurs of agreement came from the men, and several eyes turned to the town hall clock, where the minute hand had moved visibly just in those few moments. “Good luck everyone.”

     Colonel Vento strode into view, accompanied by a couple of his officers. They paused while they exchanged some last words, then Vento went to the head of the column of cavalry where one of his men had been holding his horse. One of the officers, meanwhile, went to a squad of senn guardsmen standing all the way at the rear, behind everyone else, who then turned and headed back towards the tower.

     “At least we’ll go down fighting,” said Grey with feeling. “I’d rather be us than them.”

     Cheston nodded his agreement. Those men were the rearguard. Their job would be to remain within the sealed city after everyone had left and hunt down any Shadowsoldiers who might somehow have managed to creep in. Only when they were sure beyond any doubt that the Orb wouldn’t be destroyed by some lone goblin and the city given to the enemy would they use the phials of poison they carried, identical to the one Julian Birch had been given. Their final friend. Their way to avoid the madness of the Shadow.

     The Captains of the city’s defenders then presented themselves to the Colonel one at a time to confirm that all the men under their command were outside a circle the army engineers had drawn the day before. A circle around the tower and within the inner wall marking the extent of the dome of force that would permanently isolate everything inside from the rest of the world. When the last Captain had returned to his men Vento gave a sigh of sadness and weary resignation and pulled a jeweled coronet from a pouch at his side, putting it on his head. “Mister Birch?” he said looking straight ahead, his eyes focusing on nothing.

     “Here, Sir,” replied the young wizard, his voice carried to the Colonel by means of the magical link created by the coronet.

     “You may seal the city.”

     “Yes, Sir.”

     Vento felt he ought to say something more, some final words of gratitude and respect, but he instinctively knew that anything he said would sound false and hollow. Also, he realised, any further words would be insultingly patronising and the courageous young man deserved better than that. He said nothing more, therefore, until the young wizard’s voice sounded again in his head. “Colonel, the city is sealed.”

     “Thank you, Mister Birch. I look forward to serving with you again in the next life.”

     “Me too, Sir. Goodbye.”

     The link was broken and the Colonel removed the Coronet, dropping it to the ground. He looked back at the tower and up into the sky, but couldn’t see anything different. The anti-magic shell that had been covering the city and its defenders should have gone, to be replaced by a smaller shell of total invulnerability that left the defenders outside. Had it happened? Could young Birch have lied, thinking he could somehow sneak out of the city and escape? He dismissed the idea. Resalintas trusted the young wizard, and there was no better judge of character. If Birch said the city was sealed, then it was. The young man was probably already dead.