Before she could answer a new sound rose from the tunnel. Battle lulled around them and many paused to look. A rhythmic thump rumbled out of the tunnel, reverberating in pulsing waves. A line of new Kadoshim emerged, flies buzzing about them, a warrior at their head, tall, lithe, gripping a longsword and clothed in mail, but Coralen’s eyes were drawn to his face, parts of it burned charcoal black and peeling, silver hair growing in tufts on his head, elsewhere singed to stubble or burned clear.

‘Calidus,’ Meical snarled.

Behind him and the new Kadoshim marched more warriors, these in disciplined rows with long shields and short swords in their hands, iron caps on their heads. Coralen remembered them from Domhain, when she had been part of a night raid against Rhin’s invading force. They had been the only force that hadn’t panicked, and days later she had been told that their wall of shields had broken Domhain’s warband.

Hundreds of them were marching from the tunnel, an endless column of men twenty shields wide. Coralen felt her heart sink.

Calidus saw Meical, sneered and strode straight at him. Meical stepped to meet him, their blades clashing with blinding speed; the sheer sense of power rolling off their blows was staggering. Then one of the Kadoshim was lunging in, something different about him from the rest, flies swarming around him. He lashed out at Meical, caught him a glancing blow and sent him crashing to the floor, rolling backwards. Calidus followed and Enkara stepped between them, sword raised high, turned Calidus’ blow as it swept towards Meical, a backswing from Enkara slashing across Calidus’ eyes and sending him reeling. Behind her Meical pushed himself to his knees, then the other Kadoshim was lunging at Enkara. He had no blade in his hands, just grabbed her, somehow swaying past her curved sword and gripping her wrist. He gave a savage yank and her sword was spinning away, Enkara pulled close to him. With one hand he gripped her face and twisted.

Coralen heard Enkara’s neck snapping from twenty paces away, the Kadoshim discarding her lifeless body to the ground.

Coralen screamed and ran at him.

CHAPTER NINETY-TWO

CYWEN

Cywen burst into the hospice, chest heaving, lungs burning. People were sitting up in their cots, some shuffling about on crutches, others trying to pull boots on and find weapons. They all froze and stared at Cywen.

‘Out of here,’ she gasped, then louder, ‘the enemy are in the great hall. If you can wield a blade, go do it, if not, you need to get somewhere safer.’

The room burst into motion. Brina stumbled in behind Cywen.

‘Thanks for helping . . . an old . . . lady,’ Brina said.

‘Sorry,’ Cywen said.