Sig punched her sword through the belly of the first man to rush her and kicked him in the chest as she ripped her blade free, sending him hurtling into those behind, a snarl of limbs as they went down. Cullen leaped into the space and stabbed down with his spear, ducking a sword-slash from a man who knew his blade-craft a little better, not that it helped him much as Keld’s axe crunched into his skull, wrenched free in a spray of bone and brains.

Sig marched on, longsword swinging in great loops, sent a head spinning through the air, a jet of blood erupting from the stump of a severed neck. Her sword-kin stabbed and hacked to the left and right of her, the wolven-hounds wreaking bloody havoc in the shadows, and Elgin’s warriors spread wide as the Kadoshim’s followers hurled themselves in a frenzied attack.

Sig wiped sweat from her eyes, searching for the Kadoshim. It was still upon the dais, passing something to one of its shaven-headed followers, leaning to hiss in the man’s ear.

Sig shouted, pointing with her sword at the Kadoshim, and Keld and Cullen answered, moving towards the dais like ships through a storm-racked sea.

A woman came at Sig, wielding sword and knife, a swirling attack that stopped Sig’s advance, the clang of steel as Sig parried the sword, a grunt as the knife slashed at her belly, stopped by her ringmail shirt. She slammed an elbow into the woman’s jaw, then hacked though the woman’s forearm, which dropped to the floor still clutching its sword. The woman staggered and fell to her knees, face draining white as her life’s blood pumped into the ground. She toppled sideways, cursing Sig as she died.

Sig forged on, the din and stench of battle in this subterranean chamber immense: death screams, battle-cries, the wounded mewling and shrieking in their pain. She saw the Kadoshim push its companion on the dais away, sending him running for a shadowed alcove. A sword hissed into the Kadoshim’s fist, its wings unfurled and flexed, a beat of air that carried the stench of corruption as it lifted from the ground, Keld’s axe whistling through empty air where it had just been standing.

Sig burst onto the dais through a knot of the attackers, her bulk scattering them. A jolt of power shuddered up through her boots, sudden nausea making her stagger; a glance at the dais showed runes scratched and scribed into the ground. She shook her head and strode towards Keld and Cullen. A glance at the prisoner bound to the wooden frame showed there was no helping him, slumped in his bonds, his entrails heaped about his feet. His chest was still, a string of spittle hanging from his slack jaw.