The clatter of steel and the sound of gruff voices surrounded him even before his eyes were fully open. He tried to stand, but the blunt toe of a boot thudded into his stomach, forcing the breath from his lungs. Gasping for air, he sank back down. His sword was missing from its place beside his blanket, but the dagger was still in his belt. Apart from the soldier standing over him, he could see three others in the background. Two of them were holding Markus, and the other was pressing his heel down hard on Jonas’ chest. There was no sign of Kat anywhere. “Don’t move, boy,” he was told. This order was punctuated with another swift kick. He looked at Markus, but his friend’s eyes were wide and fixed on something else. Risking another blow, Ethan shifted his head to see what could be affecting him so. A few yards away stood a cloaked figure with its hood pulled down low. Although it was impossible to distinguish its face, the ghostly pale hand gripping a long curved blade was all too visible.
