'Long enough to get you killed, if they hit you at the wrong moment.'
Ap Owen shrugged.
'You're all missing the point,' said Major de Tournay.
'How did the mercenaries know to look for us here? Our location was supposed to
be secret.'
'He has a point,' said Lord Regis, looking heavily at ap Owen.
The senior Captain nodded unhappily. 'Somebody must have talked. Someone always
talks, eventually. But since they couldn't know about this dimension, it doesn't
really matter. The mercenaries will just ransack the house, find no trace of the
Talks, and report back to their masters that you weren't here. They'll be called
off, and you can resume the Talks undisturbed, secure in the knowledge they
won't be back again. And if the Guard reacts fast enough, they might even be
able to follow the mercenaries back to their masters, and we can round them all
up in one go.'
'Excellent!' said Lord Nightingale. 'This might turn out to have been all for
the best, after all.'
'Hold it just a minute,' said Fisher, and there was a harshness in her voice
that drew all eyes to her. 'A lot of good men died out there, trying to protect
you and your precious Talks. Doesn't that mean anything to you?'
The two merchants, Rook and Gardener, had the grace to look a little
embarrassed. The two Majors stirred uncomfortably, but said nothing. Lord Regis
looked thoughtfully at the floor. Lord Nightingale sniffed.
'They were just doing their job,' he said flatly. 'They understood they were
expendable. As are we all.'
'I'm sure that'll be a great comfort to their widows,' said Fisher. 'Those men
never stood a chance, thanks to your insistence on low profile security.'
'That's enough, Captain!' said Lord Regis sharply. 'It's not your place to
criticize your superiors. We have to consider the bigger picture.'
Fisher gave him a hard look, and then turned away. Ap Owen relaxed slightly, and
felt his heart start beating again. He didn't think Fisher would actually punch
out a lord, but you could never tell with Fisher.
'His lordship is right, Fisher,' he said carefully. 'The safety of the delegates
must come first. That's what they told us when we took on this job, remember?
Now take it easy. We're all perfectly safe in here; nothing can reach us.'
He broke off suddenly, as far away in the distance a bell tolled mournfully. The
sound seemed to echo on and on.
faint but distinct, as though it had traveled impossible distances to reach
them. They all stood silently, listening. The bell tolled again and again,
growing slowly louder and more mournful, like the bell from a forgotten church
deep in the gulfs of hell. Fisher's breathing quickened, and her hand fell to
her sword. Something was out there in the dark, she could feel it; something
awful. The pealing of the bell grew louder still, painfully loud, until everyone
in the hidden room had their hands pressed to their ears. And then the air split
open above them, and nightmares spewed out into the waking world.
Creatures with insane shapes that hurt and disturbed the human eye fought and
oozed and squirmed out of nowhere, and fell writhing to the floor. There were
things with splintered bones and snapping mouths, and nauseating shapes that
twisted through strange dimensions as they moved. Creatures with flails and
barbs and elongating limbs. A monstrous slug with grinding teeth in its belly
fell heavily onto the conference table, its weight cracking the thick wood from
end to end. A clump of ropy crimson intestines squeezed out of the split in the
air, and dropped squirming to the floor, where it dripped acid, eating holes in
the carpet. The conference room rang to a cacophony of screams and howls and
roars, drowning out the madly tolling bell.
For a moment everyone froze where they were, and then Fisher threw herself
forward, swinging her sword in wide, vicious arcs. Strangely colored blood flew
steaming on the air as her blade sank deep into unnatural flesh, and howling
shapes rose up in fury all around her. Ap Owen was quickly at her side, and
together they forced the demons back. Major Comber and Major de Tournay drew
their swords and fought back to back, old enmities forgotten in the face of a
common foe. They cut and thrust with professional efficiency, and nothing could
stand against them for long.
The two traders, Rook and Gardener, retreated into a corner and defended
themselves with unfamiliar swords as best they could. Creatures swarmed eagerly
about them, scenting easy prey. Lord Regis fought stubbornly with his back to a
wall, barely keeping the fangs and claws from his throat but determined not to
give in. Lord Nightingale cleared a space around him with inspired
swordsmanship, chanting all the while in a harsh forced rhythm. Human blood
flowed as the creatures pressed closer, forcing their way past flashing steel by
sheer force of numbers. And still more shapes poured through the split in the
air, and there seemed no end to them.
'We've got to get out of here!' Fisher yelled to ap Owen.
'We can't,' he answered, grunting with the effort of his blows. 'Only Regis and
Nightingale can open the door. And they both look a bit busy at the moment. See
if you can work towards them, take some of the pressure off.'
Fisher tried, but the growing tide of creatures forced her back foot by foot,
and ap Owen had to struggle to keep his place at her side. A jagged cut on his
forehead leaked blood steadily down one side of his face, and he had to keep
blinking his eye to clear it. A raking claw suddenly opened up a long, curving
gash across Fisher's hip and stomach, and she stumbled and almost fell as the
pain flared through her. Ap Owen darted in to try and cover her, and a long,
serrated tentacle whipped around his shoulders and snatched him up into the air.
Fisher hacked at the tentacle, but it wouldn't let him go. Comber and de Tournay
were soaked with blood from a dozen minor wounds, but were still holding their
ground and grimly defying the creatures to move them. Rook and Gardener had
already fallen and disappeared beneath a heaving throng of frenzied shapes. Lord
Regis was struggling, tears of exhaustion running down his cheeks, but Lord
Nightingale ignored him, concentrating on his rhythmic chanting.
And then Nightingale's voice rose sharply to a shout, and the split in the air
slammed together and was gone. The creatures burst into flames, screaming and
thrashing as a searing golden fire consumed them, leaving nothing but ash. The
faraway bell was quiet, and the only sound in the hidden room was the harsh
breathing and groans of the two Guards and the surviving delegates.
Fisher sat with her back braced against a wall, watching exhaustedly as ap Owen
slowly picked himself up from where the burning tentacle had dropped him. The
two Majors leaned on each other, exchanging quiet compliments. Lord Regis bent
wearily over two bodies lying twisted and still in a corner, then straightened
up and turned away. Rook and Gardener were beyond help. Regis looked across at
Lord Nightingale, calmly cleaning the blood from his sword in the middle of the
