''Water!" Mavius croaked, his throat raw from cold and dust. The world tilted beneath him as he staggered off his horse, clutching at the nearest servant.
The boy rushed forward, hands shaking as he offered a jug. Mavius snatched it and drank greedily, half of it spilling down his chin and soaking the collar of his mail shirt. The water was freezing, but it burned good going down .
Behind him, the gates of the Fingers groaned and then slammed shut with a heavy thud. The echo rolled through the courtyard like a heartbeat. For the briefest of moments, Mavius felt relief wash over him , that primal comfort of knowing there were walls between him and the army that hunted his shadow.
It lasted all of five seconds.
He turned. And wished he hadn't.
