The trapdoor before Skald’s throne was a surging sea of battle, bodies rising and falling like storm-racked waves. At the centre of it Cywen saw her friends. Gar and Meical were standing together, dealing death. Even as she watched screaming shadow-demons burst into momentary existence and then faded about them. Cywen caught a flash of red hair, saw Coralen fighting like a lunatic banshee of legend, close to her Farrell and Laith, Dath and Kulla, a few score others, mostly Jehar. She realized that their numbers were dwindling – not because they were falling to enemy blades, but because they were disappearing one by one into the smaller door of the tunnel’s trapdoor.

They are escaping.

‘We need to get to them, now,’ Brina hissed, grabbing Cywen and pulling her down the stairs.

They were moving against the tide, most now trying to reach the gates. Cywen pushed, shoved and slipped between people, one hand in Brina’s. They reached the bottom of the stairs and broke into a run. Cywen used two of her knives on Vin Thalun who fixed their eyes upon her or Brina, leaving her blades in their corpses, and then they were at the mass that was pressing against Meical and the rest.

Brina skirted it, running around to the flanks of the half-circle that was closing like a fist upon their friends. Brina buried her spear in the back of a Vin Thalun; another turning, seeing her, raising his sword, fell gurgling with one of Cywen’s knives in his throat. They moved into the press, Cywen catching a glimpse of Laith ahead of her, and Farrell.

Then a Kadoshim was before them, its mouth open in a feral snarl, black eyes fixed on them, curved sword rising. Brina buried her spear in soft flesh, just above the rim of its chainmail shirt, below its throat. The blade sank deep – dark, almost black blood welling around the wound like cold porridge. The Kadoshim slashed at the spear, snapping the shaft, leaving the blade in its flesh. It seemed unconcerned about that, advancing on Brina as she stumbled back.

Cywen threw knives, one, two, three in quick succession, the first crunching into its skull, second bouncing off of the mail shirt, and third piercing its links to sink into the Kadoshim’s belly. It took no notice.

I can’t take its head with a knife. She drew the sword at her belt and hacked two-handed into the creature as it sliced at and just missed Brina’s face.

Cywen’s sword sliced into its neck, flesh parting, blade grinding against bone.

That got its attention.