Something punched the Teblor’s back, then a brief, stinging blossom of pain. Reaching over, Karsa dragged the quarrel free and flung it away. He dropped down from the horse, eyes on the barred gate. Metal latches had been locked over the bar, holding the thick plank in place. Taking three strides back, Karsa lowered one shoulder, then charged it. The iron pins holding the hinges between blocks of mortared stone burst free with the impact, sending the entire gate toppling outward.
