A great roar echoed through the chamber, for a moment drowning out the din of battle, and Coralen looked to see Balur One-Eye standing upon the steps before the gate, black axe in his hands, Ethlinn and the might of the Benothi behind him. With another roar he strode down the stairs, began to run towards them, the Benothi following like an avalanche, the ground trembling. They hit the Kadoshim and Vin Thalun that had broken through the circle, scattering them like straw dolls, axes taking Kadoshim heads, warhammers crushing Vin Thalun to pulp, and behind them the defenders started to rally. Coralen saw Dath had gathered a dozen archers to him and they were lined along the staircase that led to a higher floor, raking the enemy with flights of arrows. To the other side Wulf had rallied his axe-men to him and they were hurling blades at Nathair’s draig and the enemy that thronged around him. Elsewhere she glimpsed Javed, soaked in blood, a knife in each hand, Vin Thalun dead or dying all about him. He was smiling viciously, his pit-fighters about him carving a bloody swathe through a knot of Vin Thalun warriors. Coralen felt a new surge of hope and with it energy, and she leaped back into the battle, wanting to find Gar and stand beside him.

He was still standing close to Meical, the two of them blood drenched and ringed by a tideline of corpses. Coralen joined them, protecting one and then the other as Vin Thalun and Kadoshim hurled themselves at the two warriors. She stabbed and hacked and chopped until her arms grew heavy and her hands slippery with blood.

Others joined her, spreading in a half-circle to guard the flanks of Gar and Meical – Enkara and Hamil, Akar and a dozen other Jehar.

The flow of enemy from the tunnel started to slow, one last wave surging towards them. Coralen turned a blow with her knife and buried her sword in a Vin Thalun chest, blade sticking between ribs as she tried to tug it free. Another Vin Thalun saw and lunged at her, sword plunging towards her unprotected side.

Something smashed into his chest, hurling him away from Coralen in an explosion of blood. He hit the floor and rolled, Coralen seeing one of Laith’s throwing knives sticking from his chest. Laith bounded up, a fresh knife in each hand, covered in cuts and other people’s blood. Farrell was with her, his war-hammer slung across his back, the giant dagger in his hands slick with blood.

‘Better for Kadoshim,’ he growled. ‘Where’s Ban?’