Smoke hung at shoulder height inside the gate. It drifted slowly through the passage, shortening sightlines and making the twenty meters of open ground beyond the wall seem much smaller than it actually was.
The wall of the first building appeared sooner than Batu expected.
A cluster of townsfolk, militia had already fallen back against it.
Eight or nine men stood with their backs to the timber. One held a spear toward the riders. Two carried axes but had not rushed for an attack.
The others were still making their decision.
Whether to fight or run.
Most reached the answer too late.
"Gospodi!"
The shout came from the man with the raised axe.
Batu noticed the way he held it, a craftsman grip.
The man managed to get the word out. He managed to lift the axe.
He accomplished nothing else.
Two steppe riders loosed arrows from fifteen meters.
The first shaft struck the center of the man's padded coat. The impact sounded different from an arrow hitting mail, duller.
