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buildings
of the village. Frantically Corban looked around, but they were quite a distance from the crowds now, and he saw Dath had been grabbed by Crain and was being herded along after him.
    Within seconds the two boys were bustled behind a building, Corban thrown against a wall, knocking the wind out of him. His fingers went limp and he dropped his wooden practice sword.
    Rafe slammed a fist into Corban’s stomach, doubling him over. Slowly he straightened.
    ‘Come on, blacksmith’s boy,’ snarled Rafe, fists raised. Corban just looked at him. He wanted to answer, wanted to raise his fists, but just – didn’t. His guts
churned with a cold weightlessness. When he tried to speak, only a croak came out. He retched, feeling sick, and shook his head.
    Rafe hit him again and he staggered, blood spurting from his lip.
Fight back
! a voice screamed in his head, but he only reached out an arm, steadied himself against the wall, feeling
weak, scared. He looked at Dath, saw his friend launch himself forwards, punching and kicking, but Crain was older, stronger and Dath was small-framed even for his age. Crain clubbed him to the
ground.
    ‘Nothing like your da, are you,’ spat Rafe.
    Corban wiped blood from his lip. ‘What?’ he mumbled.
    ‘Your da would put up a fight, make it more interesting. You’re just a coward.’
    For the briefest moment Corban felt something hot flicker within him, a spark of fire deep in the pit of his stomach, like when his da opened the door to his forge and the flames flared. He felt
his fists clench and arms begin to rise, but then Rafe’s fist slammed into his jaw and the sensation disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. Then he was falling, crashing to the ground
with a thud.
    ‘Get up,’ jeered Rafe, but Corban just lay there, hoping it would all end soon, the metallic taste of blood filling his mouth.
    Rafe kicked Corban in the ribs, then a voice shouted. A figure rounded the building and was moving quickly towards them.
    ‘I think I’ll have this,’ said Rafe, grinning fiercely as he bent and picked up Corban’s practice sword. Then he was running, his companion following quickly down an
alley.
    Dath knelt by Corban, trying to help him rise as the man who had shouted reached them. It was Gar.
    ‘What happened here?’ the stablemaster demanded as Corban pushed himself to his knees. He spat blood and stood, swaying slightly.
    Dath reached out to steady his friend but Corban pushed his arm away. ‘Leave me alone,’ he whispered, tears spilling down his cheeks, smearing dust and blood. ‘Leave me
alone,’ he said again, louder this time, turning away and rubbing furiously at his eyes, shame and anger filling him in equal measure.
    ‘Walk with me, boy,’ said Gar, and turned to Dath. ‘Best leave us for a while, lad.’
    ‘But he’s my friend,’ protested Dath.
    ‘Aye, but I would speak to Corban. Alone.’ He gave a look that sent Dath walking hesitantly away, though he looked back over his shoulder.
    Corban turned quickly and strode in the other direction, not wanting anyone’s company, but in moments the stablemaster was walking beside him. For a while they walked in silence, Corban
feeling too ashamed to talk, so he concentrated on controlling his rapid breathing. Slowly the sound of his blood pounding in his head quietened.
    ‘What happened back there?’ asked Gar eventually. Corban did not answer, not trusting his voice to remain steady. After another long silence Gar pulled him to a halt and turned him
so that they were facing each other.
    ‘What happened?’ Gar repeated.
    ‘You trying to shame me even more, making me say it?’ snapped Corban. ‘You saw what happened. Rafe hit me and I – I did nothing.’
    Gar pursed his lips. ‘He’s older, and bigger than you. You were intimidated.’
    Corban snorted. ‘Even Dath fought. Would
you
have let someone hit you like that?’ When Gar did not answer, he tried to walk away, but the stablemaster