“They’ll come up two at a time,” Cade said. “Grays seem to be right handed, like most of us. They’ll struggle to stab their spears around the staircase’s central column at us.”

“Grays?” Grace asked.

Cade shrugged. “As good a name as any. Now, Grace has the longest reach and sword—she can take point. Their spears have better range than our swords, but with our longer arms it’s about even. I’m the most protected in my armor, so I’ll fight first.”

He lifted his blade and stood beside Grace, who drew her own enormous sword. Together, they listened to the sounds of tramping feet below. The enemy was moving quickly, giving them little time to prepare.

“The rest of you, gather the stones we have left and position them around the stairwell,” Cade whispered. “Quietly.”

The others moved at his request as the first Gray shifted into view, its diamond-shaped shield raised, spear poised to strike.

But he was right about the angle. The Gray was forced to step into full view to get its spear into position, and Cade was quick to attack as it moved.

His sword struck like a snake, scraping over the shield’s top and into the hissing face above. The blade jarred on the metal nasal crest, then passed through to send the beast reeling and tumbling into the next enemy, approaching behind.

In the confusion, Grace leaped down the steps, sweeping her enormous blade in a downward swing that cleaved through metal, bone, and flesh.

She moved back as more Grays crowded into the stairway, trampling their fallen comrades in their haste to rush the defenders. The sounds of footsteps and fluting calls echoing from below were louder now—exactly what Cade had been waiting for.

“Now! Push ’em in,” Cade snarled.

Hands heaved on round balls, rolling them from the stairwell’s edges down into the dingy steps. There was the clack of stone on stone, then, as the rocks began to tumble down the spiral, the crackle of broken bones. The balls rattled down the stairway, echoing in tandem with the screeches of agony as they pinballed through limbs.

“All of them!” Cade yelled.

More balls rolled down the steps, and the cries intensified. Soon, there were no rocks left, and Cade listened to the trilling groans of those below.

“Charge!” Cade yelled, leaping into the stairwell.

It was a grisly sight—injured scattered across the steps like broken marionettes. One staggered to its feet, spear trembling in its hands, and Cade resisted hesitation as his blade took it through the neck.

Another stab finished another, and Grace’s blade swung next, cleaving through a raised helmet before being wrenched free. But in those few seconds, the injured Grays were rallying, and Cade’s next blow was met with a raised shield, and his chest plate clanged as a spear dented it.

“Back,” Cade snarled, kicking out to shove the shield back, gaining them the room to turn and retreat.

Panting, he turned at the top, where he found a shield wall two deep blocking his view of the stairwell. The Grays were tenacious, even as the wails of the injured echoed from beneath.