The head came first.
Ironside didn't walk into range. He didn't need to. His left arm snapped back, and the whole length of fused chain came up off the flagstones with a scream of iron, and the head at the end of it whipped around in a flat arc wider than the courtyard was deep.
Noah dropped.
The head passed over him so close he felt the wind of it in his teeth. It hit the nearest pillar at the base, and the pillar didn't crack. It left. The whole bottom section blew apart into gravel, and the top half, twenty feet of carved stone, tipped slowly over and came down across two of the empty trees with a crash that shook the ground under his palms.
The head was already coming back.
Noah rolled sideways. It hit the ground where he'd been and the flagstones under it shattered in a ring, chunks of rock flipping into the air like coins. He came up on one knee in the spray of grit and saw Ironside pulling the chain back for another swing, the links dragging and sparking across the stone.
