The fugitives bolted down a dim passageway, Usk struggling to keep up. Miko tossed Star his javelin and she snatched at it, grunting in satisfaction. Sket’s breath came in rapid gusts; the man was obviously unused to the sudden sprinting. Rough-hewn walls with more metal pipes flashed by and still more snaking overhead. Random bulbs hung from twisted wire in the rocky ceiling. Miko scowled, knowing hidden cameras recorded his movements and a horde of savages would soon be at their heels.
Within moments, howls and shouts echoed like the cry of demons, and then the clacking of iron blades, bouncing off the walls.
“They’re closing in!” growled Fenli. “Faster.”
“Turn right!” Sket cried.
They fled down a gloomy passage, devoid of bulbs. The mob of glory-hungry outcasts ran hollering down the rock-cut tunnel like a pack of wolves. Miko stumbled on, feeling his left thigh and ribs aching. Sket gripped a small, sharp axe in hand. A silent understanding passed between them. “Let those fools blunder into traps,” he jeered. “I’ve done this circuit before. Watch the girl. Make sure none of these dirty scum lay hands on her.”
Star hissed fiercely, “I can take care of myself!”
“We’ll see.” Sket’s face was grim.
He led them down another shadowy side corridor that smelled of rat dung. “In here,” he grunted.
“What happened to us getting ahead of them?” muttered Fenli.
“There they are!” yelled a familiar voice—the chief, Murlag. “You—Myx, Spade. Finish off those numbskulls. We needn’t have competition, as B & D has suggested.”
Sket swayed and snarled, motioning the others deeper into the tunnel.
“Sod that,” cried Fenli. “I’ll stand and fight! Not run like a coward.” He charged back down the tunnel, twirling his mace in Fenli kamikaze style, a fierce yell on his lips.
With a sulphurous oath, Sket surged after him. He caught a blade on his hatchet, while Miko leaped forward and raised his sword to deflect a flashing blade.
Usk sprang past Star with his powerful hind legs and knocked one of the ragged assailants sideways, sinking pincers deep into an exposed arm. A howl erupted and the man convulsed in pain. Five others moved in to surround Star and Sket.
Star thrust with her javelin, missing a man’s groin by inches. More savage shouts erupted; new attackers arrived like rats, hearing the cry for battle action and the clink of weapons.
Fenli ran straight at the largest man—a top-knotted bravo with oiled leathers—and swung the mace into the brute’s ribs with a single strike. A dagger flashed which Fenli parried and countered, slicing hard with his machete. The man wheezed, skipping back, but Fenli gutted him with a deadly stroke. The attacker fell to his knees, choking in a pool of blood.
A familiar voice cackled over a hidden loudspeaker. “Ouch, that smarts, Fenli! No mercy, eh? I like your style.”
“Beardly, you encourage these rogues too much,” came Drek’s chiding voice. “Let’s see what the recruits plan next.”
Star thrust her spear and left a man cursing, holding a bleeding hand. A truncheon came arching out of nowhere and caught Fenli a glancing blow to the skull, but he scuttled sideways like a crab, grunting in anguish, avoiding the bulk of the hit. Sket edged in, knocking the weapon out of his enemy’s hand and sent him flying, only to have a knife dig into his hip. Fenli kicked the fallen man in the face. He gave a victorious cry, swinging the mace with all his strength, steel caving in the aggressor’s skull.
A snarling outcast closed with Miko. Miko identified the oily leer of Myx. Twisting at the last minute, he slammed his tommyknocker down on an exposed elbow, snapping bone. He pushed the man back into another of the raging foes.
“There’s too many of the weasels. Fall back!” cried Miko.
Fenli glared, his forearms and face splattered with blood. Sket hunched, gasping.
“Ha, ha, ha,” came the voice from the speaker. “Marvellous show!” Then the sound of clapping and Beardly’s mewls of pleasure floated in the background. “Good shot, Miko. Land’s sakes, things are getting off to a good start! Many more tunnels to go.”
Miko swore as Drek’s and Beardly’s cackles faded in the murk to the sounds of injured men’s groans and the stumbling of feet and echoing curses. More enemies, realizing their initial party had failed, came charging down the tunnel.
“Back!” cried Sket. “Follow me!”
They scrambled back down through the cramped tunnel where a pale oval light shone some distance ahead. The tramp of booted feet pounded behind them.
Onward the five fugitives surged through the gloom. Miko kept pace with Sket helping Star along, encouraged by the distinct scent of warmer, drier air.
They were suddenly out in the twilight on a barren slope, overlooking the endless desert. Boots scuffing on dry dirt, they plunged down a crumbling descent to squat on a ledge. Sket motioned them out of view behind a clutch of chalky boulders.
Hunched, ragged and dispirited, the blood-smeared troop saw tiny fires winking in the spaces below—the movement of dark-robed figures about a central area. Miko poked his head higher out of a gap between two boulders to get a better look.
It was the first natural light that the prisoners had seen for days. Bleak and thin, it brought hope.
Fenli nudged Sket out of the way and hung his bristly face over Miko’s shoulder, his eyes roving over the terrain with greedy intent. “We can make our way overland. Screw these tunnels.”
“Quiet!” hissed Sket. “You’ll tip off our location.”
Sure enough, wolfish shapes slipped out of the gap past them in the mauve shadows, feet padding rhythmically. There was a rustling of
