“Go on, Johnny! Stick him!”
Both Phin and Deskata looked across the room at the grinning succubus on the balustrade, who now had a little spiked devil hovering just off her shoulder. She pantomimed stabbing a blade into her throat, and lolled out a long, forked tongue from the side of her ruby-red mouth.
Deskata frowned at her, then looked back at Phin. He lowered his sword to his side, and called across the room.
“I am not going to fight for your amusement, bitch.”
Uella grinned. “Want to bet?”
“Centurion Deskata,” Phin said softly, and Deskata turned to follow his gaze.
On the west side of the circular chamber two wide double doors were swinging open. Phin could see three or four hobgoblins running through a torch lit hall toward them, lightly armored and carrying spears. Behind them came a crowd of more heavily armored Magdetchoi in heavy splint mail and spiked helmets, bearing axes, morning stars, and bows. Their hobnailed boots rumbled in the hall.
Deskata sighed faintly. He reached up to his neck and jerked a leather cord out from under his Legion breastplate, snapping the string and dropping a ring Phin had seen before into his hand. Deskata slipped the ring onto a finger of his sword hand, and peered at the onrushing monsters through the same striking emerald eyes Phin had only seen on the Sarge’s face, back in Camp Town. He did not look at Phin again. Deskata took up his tower shield and tightened the straps that secured it to his left arm. Then with a savage cry that was from the Miilark Islands as much as the Imperial Legions, the Centurion pounded down from the dais, back up the stairs that faced it, and met the hobgoblins in the doorway.
Chapter Forty
The party made their way down the long hall at a trot, for despite the thick carpet and the rich decorations adorning the walls every closed door they passed oozed menace. It was not until they had almost reached the great double doors at the end that Tilda heard a yell from beyond them, and recognized the voice. She started to run.
The doors began to swing open before Tilda reached them, and she took no time to decide whether to stop for a peek at what might lie ahead or to keep running into it. She barreled between the opening doors with her bow at a half-pull and snapped her head around, ready to shoot at the first target presenting itself.
Tilda took in the enormous round chamber, the sunken floor at the bottom of the surrounding stairs, and the central dais with its pair of platinum horns. Double-doors ringed the chamber beneath a catwalk, all closed apart from the pair she had just run through and one across the chamber to her right. From that direction the sounds of combat rang, and there was a dead hobgoblin lying in front of the doorway with its dark blood starting to run down over the top step.
Keeping at a distance was Tilda’s best move with the bow, so she ran ahead to take her side of the round stairs down, intending to mount the central dais for a shooting platform. She nearly ran headlong into a Wizard clambering up the stairs toward her, who looked up and drew back in surprise as Tilda aimed a steel arrowhead between his eyes.
“Phoarty?” she barked.
“Uh-huh.”
“Don’t cast a spell on me this time.”
Tilda shouldered past Phin, almost elbowing him back down the stairs in her wake, and started up the dais. At her angle she could now see into the end of the open hall to the right, where John Deskata was fighting two hobgoblins with spears. One was maneuvering behind him and though the distance was still long Tilda skidded to a halt and released a shot. The arrow passed close enough by the hobgoblin’s head that the creature cringed back. John charged away from it out of Tilda’s sight, his shield high and short sword darting around the edge. Tilda ran to the top of the dais even as she drew another arrow from the open quiver on her back.
The hobgoblin she had distracted ran out of the hall and charged but Tilda had plenty of time. She took careful aim low as it ran down the facing stairs, and a shot at its knees took it full in the chest, the hard pull of the composite bow driving the arrow through leather armor. The hobgoblin sprawled and rolled the rest of the way to the floor, spear clattering beside it.
Uriako Shikashe was leading the way toward the open doors where John was fighting by the longer but fastest route, running pell-mell around the chamber under the catwalk with Amatesu and Heggenauer behind him. Phoarty had reached Claudja and Nesha-tari, and the Duchess gave the Wizard a hug. Zeb pounded up the dais behind Tilda with his crossbow loaded.
“Keep the hobgoblins off John until the others get there,” Tilda said, and drew aim again at the melee in the hall, just in time to see it end as Deskata banged a hobgoblin against the wall with his shield and snuck the red point of his short sword into its armpit. He turned to face what Tilda could now see was a much greater mass of hobgoblins still coming at him. Tilda let an arrow go over John’s shoulder, hitting the ceiling down the hallway rather than any hobs, but John did turn around to look back at her.
“ Ikhay ha!” she shouted in Miilarkian. Fall back. John blinked at her and she could see his burning green eyes and red spatters across his face. He hesitated only a moment before running back out between the doors.
A hobgoblin in the charging mass shot an arrow, probably not aimed, but it took John in the back of his thigh and he spilled to the floor. He scrambled aside and Tilda and Zeb shot into the hall, Zeb dropping immediately to stick a foot in the stirrup of his crossbow to reload it, while Tilda stood, drew from her quiver as fast as she could, and shot time and again into the approaching mass.
Shikashe barked a word over at Tilda which she didn’t know, for Balan had certainly ended whatever spell he had used to facilitate communication by now. Tilda understood the gist of it and stopped shooting as the samurai arrived in front of the doors. He released such a shout at the hobgoblins that about half the charging mass tried to stop, causing a pile-up down the hallway. Shikashe charged them with Heggenauer right behind him. Deskata screamed an oath and Tilda saw him prone beside the doors, Amatesu on top of him and tossing aside the arrow she had just yanked out of his leg. The shukenja jammed a finger into the bleeding hole and John stopped struggling to stare at her.
“Cover!” Zeb shouted, and an arrow shattered just above Tilda’s head against a bent platinum pillar. She dropped to the ground and rolled behind it for shelter, peeking around the far side. Above the open hall where Shikashe and Heggenauer were now fighting shoulder-to-shoulder to try and keep the hobs from sliding around their flanks, the doors on the catwalk were open and hobgoblin archers were lining the balustrade. They could only see Tilda and Zeb for the others were right below them, and a half-dozen rose to shoot a volley at the dais. Tilda and Zeb ducked behind the two pillars as arrows struck all around them, ringing off the metal and kicking up chips of stone from the floor.
Tilda looked across at Zeb, his bow ready on his lap, and nodded. They both leaned out and shot. Tilda at least thought she hit a hob in the leg through the open balustrade, but both had to duck back as another volley struck around them.
The air tore like parchment and lightning arced across the room, striking among the archers who screamed and roared. Nesha-tari stood at the head of the outer circle of stairs, beige cloak flapping around torn shirt and trousers and a grim smile on her face. Tilda peeked back around the pillar and saw the archers were no longer an issue. But there was trouble under the catwalk, where Shikashe and Heggenauer had been forced to yield ground. John and Amatesu had gotten one of the double doors shut but several of the hobgoblins in heavy splint mail poured into the chamber before the ex-legionnaire joined the samurai and Jobian holding the rest back in the hall. Amatesu dove on one of the hobgoblins before it got very far, clubbing it in the head, but three more broke from the melee and started banging down the stairs toward the archers on the dais.
Zeb had no time to reload his crossbow and snatched his axe from his back. He barked, “Stay behind me!” as he stepped toward the charging trio.
Tilda shot one in the head before it made the bottom of the stairs, then drew two throwing daggers from her vest and cast both. Her right-armed throw was better but the blade skipped off a hobgoblin’s helmet. The
