A horn blast echoed through the chamber, off from the right. She looked about, not seeing anyone, frowning, then realized what it was.

One of the tunnel alerts.

‘To arms!’ she bellowed. ‘Foe in the tunnels. To arms, to arms.’ She was running, a sword in her fist without realizing how it got there, searching for the tunnel with the horn-blower. The blasts kept coming, people taking up her cry, Coralen hearing it spread through the chamber and out of the gates into the courtyard beyond.

Must close the tunnel, seal the doors.

Glancing left and right, she saw Meical running, speeding after her, others heading for the gates. Then she saw the tunnel. A warrior was standing at its rim blowing on his horn, others heaving on the huge trapdoor. A giant joined them to help, but then the horn-blower was shouting at them, gesturing for them to stop.

Then Coralen was there. Strange sounds echoed out of the tunnel, hooves and feet and what sounded like a great wind.

‘Close it,’ she yelled at the men and giant standing with ropes on the huge trapdoor, holding it hovering.

‘No,’ the horn-blower shouted at her, a huntsman from Narvon who had joined her team. ‘We have scouts in there – my brother is down there.’

Coralen paused a moment, looking into the tunnel. It sloped down gently, a hundred paces in two pools of torchlight revealing only emptiness. In theory any enemy in the tunnel should be at least half a day away, the scouts inside equipped with horns and fast mounts to spread the alert as quickly as possible. But she didn’t like the sounds coming out of that tunnel.

They could be a long way back – sound travels far in those tunnels, especially if it’s made by those in a hurry.

Then the clatter of hooves separated from the others, growing louder with every moment, and suddenly a rider was visible in the tunnel, galloping through the torchlight, hurtling up the slope towards them. His mouth was moving, shouting, but nothing could be heard over the crashing of his mount’s hooves and the strange sound rushing up behind it, a scraping, grinding sound, like a thousand knives scratching at stone.

‘Close the gates,’ the rider screamed as he exploded from the tunnel, Coralen rushing to take his reins, his horse sweat-streaked and foaming at the mouth. The rider’s eyes were wide with panic.

Coralen was planning on asking a few questions but instead she turned to the men holding the huge trapdoor and yelled and screamed at them to close it. Its hinges creaked as it began to come down.

A huge roar boomed through the tunnel, bursting up into the chamber like a blast of wind in the worst of storms, a physical thing that rattled chests and burst eardrums. In the tunnel something appeared, something huge, a flat muzzled head with small eyes, long fangs, thick powerful legs with razored claws.

No.