"Give me your hand," Henri said, palms open.
Amy took it, and in a split-second she was atop the horse behind him. He lifted her as if she weighed no more than a dried leaf. She put her hands on his waist as there were no other pegs on the saddle she could grab for support.
As soon as Amy was secured behind the Duke, Henri slammed the reins of his black horse and it galloped forward. The Dukesguards broke formation and followed their horse as they traversed the scorched pavement. Around them, the flames that engulfed the houses were dying, though the air still felt hot.
The road was littered with every assortment of weapons Amy could imagine. Maces, hammers, stout shields, lances, daggers, and swords were strewn all around, lying beside the Blacksmith City's dead residents. She saw a
