The stone steps ticked under my shoes as I ascended the tower. My torch flickered. I paused for breath; I could just make out the distant sounds of battle. I forged on. At the top, I saw my Master, and fell to my knees.

“Oh, Lord, it is true! I have failed you.”

“Save yourself,” he croaked dryly through blood-stained lips, “this matter is beyond the both of us.”

There was a loud bang; the tower reverberated from the impact of a catapulted boulder.

I scrambled to his sides, struggled with the shackles which bound him. “You will come with me, Master!”

“My time is done,” he said, “I am useless like this.” Free of the shackles, he raised the sumps of his severed hands in defeat.

“But the rebels will do far worse to you!”

“I will not give them the chance. Now go. Go! Go stand behind the banner,” he bellowed hoarsely, “ensure that it is used well.”

Reluctantly I turned and went down the stairs. Magus took a shorter route, and made a small crater in the cobblestones below.