Gaelin realized he was never going to get the chance he was looking for. At the top of his lungs he bellowed, “Bannier – NOW!” and spurred Blackbrand for all he was worth. The horse leaped forward, the rest of the Mhoriens a step behind him.

On the battlements surrounding the courtyard, dozens of crossbowmen hesitated, looking up to Tuorel for orders. A good number of those closest to the wizard spun to train their bows on him, expecting treachery from the sorcerer. Even Tuorel whirled to face the wizard and had his sword half-out of its sheath. Bannier himself stood absolutely still, momentarily taken aback. In that brief instant, Gaelin’s party galloped for the steps leading to the great hall.

For every Ghoeran who hesitated or looked away, two kept their aim on the Mhoriens. From every side, crossbows thrummed, and the air hissed with bolts. Fifteen of Sergeant Toere’s guards surrounded Gaelin, Erin, and Ruide; nine fell in the first volley, wounded or killed by the deadly rain of quarrels. In one flashing moment of confusion and terror men and animals were falling and screaming in the courtyard.

A bolt struck Gaelin in his left hand, punching through his leather-and-steel gauntlet like paper. He ignored the burning fire that raced up his arm, and suddenly turned Blackbrand from the steps to the great hall, toward the door to the kitchens. He saw Toere lurch in his saddle, crumpling around a bolt buried in his breastplate. The soldier sagged but somehow clung to his saddle, raising his shield to try to screen Gaelin against the deadly fire. A couple of steps behind him, another quarrel took Ruide’s horse in the neck, and the animal stumbled and fell, pitching the valet heavily to the stone flags. The horse rolled over Ruide, crushing him.

Gaelin ran Blackbrand into the kitchen door, hard, the horse rearing and turning his head aside to burst the door off its hinges. Thanking Haelyn that the baron’s men hadn’t barred the door, he spurred the stallion down into the roaring heat and smoke of the castle’s kitchens. Servants scattered from his path. “One side!” Gaelin called, ducking over Blackbrand’s neck and galloping through the room. Pots and pans clattered and fell in his wake. Behind him, Erin followed on her gray mare, with Toere and his surviving guards driving their horses after them.

Gaelin paused and looked over his shoulder to see how many had managed to follow him into the keep. At the doorway, Madislav’s horse balked at going inside and reared.

Cursing loudly, the Vos swung down from the animal, trying to use it for cover, but a bolt suddenly appeared in the side of his chest. He grunted and fell back against the wall, and a moment later another whirring dart struck a glancing blow across his forehead. Madislav spun and fell in a loose heap.

“Madislav! No!” Gaelin started to turn Blackbrand, but Erin caught his reins.

“Gaelin, you can’t! Lead us out of here, or none of us will live to see the morning!” Gaelin noticed that a quarrel was sticking out of her calf, just below the knee, and her face was pale as china. “The others are gone, Gaelin, Madislav too. You can’t do anything for them.”

He hesitated a moment longer and then jerked the reins away and turned Blackbrand toward the passages leading into the castle’s depths. With a loud cry, he kicked the horse into a stumbling, awkward run, ducking beneath the low archways that divided the passages and chambers of the great hall.

He turned into a long, stone-dressed passageway that ran across the keep’s lower floor, toward Bannier’s tower. At the far end of the passage, a pair of Ghoeran guards appeared. Gaelin urged Blackbrand into a thundering charge. The passage was just large enough for him to rise in the saddle and swing his sword, cutting down the man on his right, while the fellow on the left was knocked flying back by the horse’s charge. At the end of the passage, he paused to see who was still with him.

“Gaelin! Where are we going?” said Erin.

“The sally port,” Gaelin replied. “We can’t go back the way we came, and we can’t ride around in Shieldhaven forever.

It’s the only way out, as far as I know.”

To e re was hunched over his saddle. His lips were blue, and a trickle of dark blood leaked from his mouth. “It’ll be guarded. ”

“I know. But we don’t have any other choices.”

Toere nodded. He gestured at two of the guards with them.

“Take the lead, we’re heading for the sally port.” Looking back to Gaelin, he said, “Stay behind these two, my lord Mhor, and let me bring up the rear.”

Gaelin didn’t argue. The soldiers led the way, turning down another passageway. They encountered a few scattered servants but no more guards for the moment, until they came to a small door of iron plate at the end of a hall. A pair of Ghoerans stood there, manning two arrow slits that looked out over the foot of the wall. Shieldhaven’s sally port was designed to give the castle’s defenders a place from which they could sortie if the main gatehouse was under attack. There was a band of only fifteen or twenty feet of negotiable slope between the castle and the hillside; an enemy who bypassed the main gate to attack the sally port would find himself clinging to a cliff’ s edge, just under the battlements of the castle.

The Ghoerans turned in astonishment at the clatter as six horsemen thundered into the small chamber. Their crossbows weren’t even cocked, and they had no chance against Toere’s soldiers. In a moment, the troopers had the door unlocked and unbarred. Gaelin opened the door carefully, glancing up at the dark battlements overhead.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Erin asked.

“Tuorel or Bannier may have guessed we’d come this way.

There might be men on the battlements who can fire at us the moment we set foot outside,” Gaelin said.

Erin smiled grimly. “As you pointed out a moment ago, we certainly can’t stay here.” She thought for a moment. “I may have something I can do to help.” Tilting her head back, she began to sing a strange song, using words that sounded elvish. Gaelin realized that she was casting a spell of some kind. In a moment, she finished, and gloom settled over the room, as impenetrable as black ink. In a moment his eyes adjusted to the darkness, and he could see again, although only in shadows and gray silhouettes.

“Erin? What is this?”

“A spell of invisibility, a lesser magic I learned a few years ago. We must hurry, Gaelin – it won’t last long.”

“But I can still see you,” he protested.

“It’s impenetrable from the outside. Those who look at us will see nothing. They’ll have a tough time finding targets for their crossbows in this, I believe.”

Toere rode a little closer and slid down from his horse, coughing. He leaned on the animal’s side and said, “Go now, Mhor Gaelin. I’ll stay behind to hold the gate.”

“Toere, you’ll be killed,” Gaelin said.

The sergeant grimaced and coughed again. “I’ve not got much longer, anyway. I may be able to discourage them from following you for a few minutes.” He staggered over to one of the Ghoerans and began winching the fellow’s crossbow.

“Go on, Prince Gaelin, get going!”

Gaelin bowed his head. “My thanks, Toere.” He tapped Blackbrand’s flanks and rode out into the open again, under the looming walls. Gaelin could hear the men moving around up there, shouting to each other. Erin stayed beside him.

“Don’t move too far from me, or you’ll be seen,” she said.

“And keep silent! We can still be heard.”

Gaelin walked Blackbrand to the cliff’s edge and peered down. “Good, it’s still here,” he whispered. “Follow me exactly – this is a damned dangerous stunt, but we don’t have time to ride around the castle.”

Erin leaned out of her saddle and looked down the rocky slope. “You must be kidding,” she hissed.

“I tried it once, years ago,” he replied. “Tuorel’s men would have to be fools to follow us, right?” Blackbrand balked at first, but Gaelin coaxed him over the edge, and instantly found himself sliding down the slope sideways.