‘Yniss tests us further,’ said Auum.

‘I am not sure that this isn’t Ix demonstrating his power tonight,’ replied Duele.

And it might have been so. The capricious God of the mana element was known for disrupting the works of Yniss, laughing in delight at the distress of his servants. Auum determined to have the last laugh. His anger had faded as the last Xeteskian fell in front of him, eyes wide with terror, drowning on his own blood. What had replaced it was perhaps more dangerous still.

He could hear the clamour of voices now. He heard a cry of pain, an order being given and the sound of running feet mixed with it. There was the echoing clash of steel; and on the air, he could smell fire and yet more death. He hurried them along a gloomy passageway where the light spells were weaker and the shadows a little more pronounced.

The construction of the corridors changed. They reached a junction where the walls were planked with wood. He edged his head around to the right. Two guards stood at an open door, looking in. Fools. Beyond them, the sounds of fighting were unmistakable.

‘Found them,’ said Auum.

They laid Evunn down. He had no strength to resist but smiled faintly and closed his eyes.

‘Two targets,’ said Auum. ‘I’ll take the left.’

The TaiGethen elves stepped smartly around the corner, their bowstrings tensed. Sensing danger, the soldiers spun together. Their crossbows began coming to ready but death for them was already far too close for it to make any difference at all.

Chapter 25

‘Let this one take the door, and be ready to act,’ said The Unknown Warrior.

Darrick stood facing his own death. The Unknown trotted quickly back to where Hirad kept the same soldier occupied, ensuring the frame of the door was too full of the Xeteskian for anyone to risk a crossbow bolt. Rebraal was next to Darrick, his last arrow ready in his bow.

It was a desperate measure but they really had no choice. The one closed door was going to go and when it did, the way would be opened for them to be overwhelmed by spell attack. Their only chance now was to get at the mages and be in the thick of the enemy to stop any chance of more casting from up the stairs. That and crossbow fire. And that meant fighting with knives and daggers. It had been a long time since Darrick had practised. Time would tell whether he, or any of them for that matter, remembered the balance and moves to survive.

Myx was standing again and Sian had gathered herself even if she hadn’t got her magic back. They had to break. Thraun was being slowly worn down and there was no way Hirad was going to let any of The Raven die without the others standing next to them, or at least fighting to get through.

He took a deep breath. There was a moment’s calm out in the hallway, broken only by Hirad’s taunting and the heavy blows of Thraun’s sword. It really was now or never.

‘Ready, Raven,’ said The Unknown, his voice so reassuring that for a heartbeat, Darrick actually considered they’d survive this. Seeing the expression on his and Hirad’s faces, he realised that was precisely what they believed.

They had faced death down so many times, thought Darrick, and he hadn’t. Not really. Not even at the Understone garrison or the fields at Septern Manse had he really thought he’d die.

In here it had been different from the moment the familiar had flown from Ranyl’s window.

He saw the flash of the castings moments before the door disintegrated. Shielded either side of the doorway, Darrick and Rebraal suffered no injury, waiting a count of three for the Cone to disperse.

‘Go!’ shouted The Unknown.

Rebraal stepped around the door and fired his arrow, Darrick seeing it lodge high in the chest of the mage before he could scramble clear and let his soldiers cover him. Darrick breathed deep and rushed out of the door, sensing The Unknown and Hirad wading into the battle next to each other.

His heart lurched in his chest. Xeteskians were everywhere. The hallway could take three in a line with room to swing long swords but for now he faced only two. Behind him, the space to the door back into the catacombs was blocked by the hideous smouldering corpses of the TaiGethen and Al-Arynaar mages. Ahead, the enemy. Guardsmen lined the hallway, more were waiting on the stairs, many armed with crossbows which were swung to bear. Mages stood well back. He saw one on either side of the stairway and others on the stairs themselves.

He threw himself into the front rank of the Xeteskians. A bolt flashed past him, thudding into the door. Rebraal was by him, the elf’s speed remarkable, his bow discarded and dagger and short sword now in hand.

‘Keep close, watch the peripheries,’ called Darrick as the shouts began to rattle around the enclosed space. He blocked two blows in quick succession and shoved his man back, looking for the angle to close. ‘Don’t give the mages line of sight.’

Darrick’s man made his first mistake, attempting a round-arm strike. The general stepped inside, blocked the arm at the height of its arc and punched forward with his right-hand dagger, piercing the man’s heart. He shuddered and the strength left him. Ready for it, Darrick leaned into the body shoving him back hard into those behind him.

With no time to admire his handiwork, Darrick leaped the body, hunching low to keep his frame out of sight. His new opponents were off balance but Rebraal hadn’t been as quick dispensing with his first man and Darrick was exposed on his right. A blade flashed in. He blocked it, just, catching the blade on the hilt of his dagger and twisting down. Looking left, he jabbed half forwards, drawing a false stroke from his other direct opponent. A third man joined the line but couldn’t strike from his far right position. For that he was grateful.

He planted a foot carefully behind and rocked backwards as a second strike came in from the right, feeling it swish past his face. His momentum brought him forwards again and he let it carry him, again getting inside his man but finding the way blocked by a chop to the top of his left arm. He whipped in his right arm, dagger blade planting into the man’s side beneath his ribs, driving deep into flesh.

A heartbeat later, the second Xeteskian stabbed forwards. Darrick, not quite quick enough to adjust his body shape, felt the blade slice through his armour and cut across the top of his hip. The wound burned and the blood started to flow. He grunted in pain and dropped back.

‘Rebraal, I need you.’

‘Right here.’ Rebraal’s short sword took the right hand from Darrick’s tormentor. The elf’s dagger slashed across his face, removing an eye. Finally, he stepped up and kicked forwards, knocking the screaming man onto his back. ‘Darrick?’

‘I’ll live,’ said Darrick.

And with his right leg soaking in his blood, he drove forwards again.

Auum and Duele shouldered their bows and picked up Evunn again, their beloved Tai unresisting, drifting in and out of consciousness, his head slumped forwards. Auum feared for him but could not let that fear dominate him. He cleared his mind while they moved past the two guards. Duele paused to rip the arrows clear of the bodies and they ran on into what had to be a catacomb hub.

In front of them the noise level had increased. The spells no longer sounded but instead the sounds of close fighting filled the air, coming from an area ahead and below them. They were in what looked like the inside of a house. Wood-panelled and hung with pictures, the narrow corridor was lined with doors, all closed. Auum chose to ignore them, moving his Tai quickly towards the sounds ahead.