The streets inside the city ran narrow between the buildings. Smoke from the fires to the north had already drifted into them, hanging low and flat, reducing visibility as Gal's arban moved at a canter. The walls on either side trapped the sound of the horses and pushed it forward, concentrating the noise around every corner before they reached it.
Above the rooftops and through the smoke, the church's gold dome still stood. Everything below it was burning.
Ahead, muffled by smoke and distance, came the sound of horses striking shields and men shouting in two different languages. There was no space for either side to withdraw.
When the street opened into the gate area, Gal understood the situation almost immediately.
The gate stood open. The main assault had already broken through and was forcing its way into the area with a dense mass of riders. Dozens of men pushed against a defensive line stretched across the entire width of the gate interior.
