The sound of the crowd grew louder and louder with each passing heartbeat.
On the hillsides where the common folk sat, one shock after another rippled through the crowd, drawing exclamations, curses, and even moments of reverence from the people there.
"I thought Lord Erling was winning," a young boy said. "What, what happened to him, Mama? Did he die?"
"I don't know," Sainy said, holding her son close as she watched the witches descend from the stone platform, walking across thin air as though it were solid ground. "Maybe, maybe they can still save him."
"We should pray," she said, shifting on her blanket to kneel and bowing her head, then showing her son to do the same. "Pray that Lord Erling makes it through…"
Elsewhere in the crowd, a combination of cursing and gloating filled the air.
"Pay up, Derwen!" a gap-toothed fisherman said, holding his calloused hand out to his neighbor. "Six snips."
