planned for an invasion on such a scale as this.
'I don't want to disillusion you, ap Owen,' said Fisher grimly, 'but it looks to
me like they've got a bloody army. We are in serious trouble.'
'You could well be right. From the look of them, they're mercenaries.' He yelled
something out the study door, and four footmen burst in, each carrying a longbow
and a quiver of arrows. Ap Owen grinned at Fisher. 'They don't have much use for
bows in the Guard, but I've always believed in them. You can do a lot of damage
with a few bowmen who know what they're doing.'
'No argument from me,' said Fisher. 'I've seen what longbows can do.'
The footmen set up before the window, pulling off their long frock coats to give
them more freedom of movement. Fisher and ap Owen struggled with the bolts that
held the window shut, until Fisher lost her temper and smashed the glass with
the hilt of her sword. Ap Owen threw the window open and stepped back to let the
archers take up their position. Bitter cold streamed in from outside, and the
archers narrowed their eyes against the glare of the snow. The attacking force
realized the grounds were no longer hidden behind the illusion spell, and ran
towards the house, howling a dissonant mixture of war cries and chants. Sunlight
flashed on swords and axes and morningstars. Fisher couldn't even guess how many
attackers there were anymore. The archers drew back and released their
bowstrings in a single fluid movement, and four of the attackers were thrown
backwards with arrows jutting from their bodies. Their blood was vividly red on
the snow. The archers let fly again and again, punching holes in the attacking
force, but they just kept coming, ignoring their dead and wounded.
'They're professionals, all right,' said ap Owen calmly. 'Mercenaries. Could be
working for any number of people. Whoever it is must want us shut down really
badly. An army that size doesn't come cheap. I didn't think there were that many
mercenaries for hire left in Haven.'
'How long before reinforcements can get here?' said Fisher tightly.
'There aren't going to be any,' said ap Owen. 'We're on our own. Low profile,
remember? Officially, no one knows we're here.'
'And we're expendable,' said Fisher.
'Right. We either win this one ourselves, or we don't win it at all. What's the
matter, don't you like a challenge?'
Fisher growled something under her breath. The first handful of mercenaries to
reach the window ducked under the flight of arrows and clambered up onto the
windowsill. The archers threw aside their bows and grabbed for their swords.
Fisher thought briefly of the door behind her. She didn't believe in suicide
missions. On the other hand, she didn't believe in running, either. She moved
quickly forward to join ap Owen and the archers, and together they threw the
first mercenaries back in a flurry of blood and gore. More of the attackers
crowded in to take their place. The war cries and chants were almost deafening
at close range. Fisher glanced at ap Owen, saw him palm a pill from a small
bottle, and swallow it. He caught her gaze and smiled.
'Just a little something, to give me an edge. Want one?'
'No thanks. I was born with an edge.'
'Suit yourself. Here they come again.' He breathed deeply as the drug hit him,
and smiled widely at the mercenaries. 'Come and get it, you lousy bastards! Come
one, come all!'
The main bulk of the attack force hit the window like a breaking wave, and
forced the archers back by sheer force of numbers. Fisher was swept aside,
fighting desperately against a forest of waving blades. In moments the room was
full of mercenaries, most of whom ran past the small knot of beleaguered
defenders and on into the house. Fisher and ap Owen ended up fighting back to
back, carving bloody gaps in the shifting press of bodies. The archers fell one
by one, and Fisher and ap Owen were slowly driven back across the room, away
from the window, as more mercenaries poured in. There seemed no end to them.
Ap Owen laughed happily and mocked his opponents as he fought, and none of the
mercenaries could get anywhere near him in his euphoric state. Fisher fought
doggedly on. Mercenaries fell dead and dying around her, their blood staining
the expensive carpet. Her footing became uncertain as bodies cluttered the
floor, and it was getting harder to find room to swing her sword. She yelled at
ap Owen to get his attention.
'We've got to get out of here, while we still can!'
'Right!' yelled ap Owen, grinning widely as he slit a mercenary's throat.
'Follow me!'
They made a break for the door, ploughing through the startled mercenaries, and
cutting down anyone who got in their way. They burst out into the hall, and
Fisher was surprised to find it deserted. Ap Owen headed for the stairs, with
Fisher close behind.
'They don't know where the Talks are really being held, so they're wasting time
searching the house,' said ap Owen breathlessly, as he took the steps two at a
time. 'But I know where there's an emergency entrance into the pocket dimension.
We can hide out in there till the fighting's over.'
'What about your people?' protested Fisher angrily. 'You can't just abandon
them!'
'They know where the entrance is, too. If they've got any sense, most of them
are probably already there.'
Fisher heard boots hammering on the stairs behind her, and threw herself
forward. The mercenary's sword swept past her head, the wind of its passing
tugging at her hair. Fisher kicked backwards, and the swordsman's breath caught
in his throat as the heel of her boot thudded solidly into his groin. Fisher
turned around to finish him off, and found herself facing a dozen more
mercenaries charging up the stairs towards her. She put a hand on the groaning
swordsman's face and pushed him sharply backwards. He fell back down the stairs
and crashed into his fellows, bringing them all to an abrupt halt. Fisher smiled
angelically at the chaos, and turned her back on them. Ap Owen was nowhere to be
seen.
She swore harshly, and hurried up the stairs to the landing. She paused at the
top of the stairs to get her bearings, and an axe buried itself in the wall
beside her. She ran along the hallway, glaring about her. Ap Owen couldn't have
gone far. If he had, she was in trouble. He'd never got around to telling her
where the doorway to the pocket dimension was. Sounds of hot pursuit grew louder
behind her, and from all around came shouts and curses and war cries as the
invaders spilled through the house, searching for the Peace Talks.
A mercenary burst out of a door just ahead of her, and Fisher ran him through
while he was still gaping at her. She jerked the sword free and then had to back
quickly away as two more men charged out of the room at her.
She put her back against the railing that ran the length of the hall and swung
her sword in wide arcs to keep them at bay. Two-to-one odds didn't normally
