CHAPTER EIGHTY-FOUR

LYKOS

Lykos ran for the slope leading from the chamber, calling Vin Thalun to him. He heard Legion laughing behind him and a quick glance over his shoulder showed the Kadoshim looking as if he was enjoying himself. He’d thrown Halvor to the ground, still alive by the look of his feebly moving limbs, and Legion was beating him to death with the iron torc.

They were surrounded by enemies. He glimpsed the Old Wolf, trying to head him off, saw men in black and silver, others clothed like pit-fighters, a handful of them leaping in front of him.

How the hell did they get here?

He kicked the rim of a fire-bowl as big as a shield, spilt oil and flame over a warrior charging towards him, saw him ignite like a torch. The man’s screams were terrible as Lykos swerved around the flames, leaped at the rock wall of the chamber and started hauling himself up. Then hands were grabbing his ankle, pulling him back down. He felt a hot line slash across his belly, saw a face grinning viciously at him, knife in hand.

It was Javed.

“How does it feel to be in the pit with the rest of us?” Javed snarled, stabbing at him. Lykos rolled, threw his buckler at Javed’s face, making him sway to avoid it, then Lykos was back on his feet, slashing at Javed.

The pit-fighter spun around his sword, somehow, and then he was inside Lykos’ guard, punching him in the face, stabbing again, but Lykos managed to twist out of the knife’s way, grip Javed’s arm, tried to bring his sword round.

Pain exploded in his nose, an explosion of white light as Javed headbutted him. He staggered, saw Javed’s knife pulling back, knew he could not stop it.

Then an arm snaked around Javed’s neck. Legion’s grinning face appeared, yanking Javed back, biting into his neck. Javed screamed as the Kadoshim ripped a chunk of flesh from Javed’s body.

“Guess you lose,” Lykos said as he plunged his short sword into Javed’s belly, twisted it, sawed it upwards.

Javed’s scream rose in pitch, trailed off to a gurgle.

The chamber was heaving with battle again. Lykos ran back to the rock wall, leaping and scrambling for purchase. He dragged himself up onto the slope, hauled up the Vin Thalun behind him, and yelled for Legion, who had become distracted with killing again.

Legion finally saw him and hurled the torc to him. It spun through the chamber, flames glinting on it, and Lykos plucked it out of the air. It was cold to the touch and heavy, far heavier than it looked. He placed it around his neck, thought for a moment he heard the whisper of voices in his ear, then they were gone. Crouching, he pulled another of his men up the chamber wall onto the slope, felt air whistle over his head, heard a gurgled yell behind him, and one of his men was dropping with a knife in his throat.

He looked back into the chamber, saw Maquin pulling another knife from a sheath.

Time to go.

He turned and ran, a handful of survivors with him. They pounded up the slope, spiralling higher, then one of his lads stumbled and fell, an arrow sprouting from his chest. Up ahead a woman was pulling another arrow from a quiver, nocking it.

He gritted his teeth and ran at her, but she stayed calm, loosed, the arrow sending the man beside him spinning to the ground, rolling back down the slope. Before she had another arrow ready, Lykos was upon her, slashing with his sword, but she ducked, hit him in the side of the head with her bow, sending him stumbling. He kicked out, caught her hip and she staggered back, one foot slipping over the edge of the slope. For a moment she teetered there, as if suspended, arms windmilling, then with a cry she fell. Lykos wasn’t sure how far the fall was, didn’t care, as long as she was out of the way. He ran on, only three men with him now.

It’s going to be a race for the boats. Could do with more than this to help me row all the way back to Drassil.

He paused, looking back down into the chaos below.

Fire had spread, engulfing almost half of the chamber, the other half filled with battling bodies. He couldn’t see many of his men left; a handful were trying to get to the slope. Of the ten Kadoshim that had walked into the cave, Lykos could only see three—one of them Legion, who was still slaying with a joyous abandon. They seemed to be keeping the enemy more than busy.

They’ll come if they can.

Lykos shrugged and continued up. Soon, seeing daylight ahead, he ran faster, wanting to be away from here, though there was one other treasure he wished to find before he left.

Fidele.

He burst into pale sunlight, blinked as his eyes adjusted, saw the backs of three men heading into the trees and smiled, because between them was a figure he’d recognize anywhere.

“Pick your man,” Lykos said to the men with him, focused on a grey-haired warrior to Fidele’s right, and charged.

Lykos gave no battle-cry but the group heard him coming and spun to face him. He glimpsed Fidele’s face, pale-skinned, eyes wide, then Grey-Hair was moving at him, striding out of the trees back into the glade, a spear held low, two-handed, levelling at Lykos’ belly.

Lykos saw the warrior’s muscles bunch, begin the thrust intended to skewer him. He twisted right, swung at the same time, felt a line of hot fire rake his ribs, hacked down at the spear shaft, splintering it, and slashed his sword deep into the warrior’s neck.

Lykos kicked the body off his blade.

One of his men was down, two were circling around Fidele’s remaining guard, but she was nowhere to be seen. Then Lykos heard footsteps behind him, leaped without thinking, saw a sword lunge into the space he’d just occupied, Fidele on the end of it.

He grinned at her.

“Thought you’d seen the last of me?” He swatted her sword away, and she back-stepped into the glade, holding the sword in front of her, its tip trembling. Lykos advanced, smiling, and she stabbed at his belly, but there was little strength in the thrust. He knocked it away and continued advancing as she shuffled further back, towards the glade’s edge. She looked unsteady on her feet, her eyes unfocused.

Still feeling the punch I gave her?

She stopped at the edge of the cliff, stones rattling down to the lake far below.

“Nice view,” Lykos said conversationally, still moving closer. His sword slammed onto hers, a twist of his wrist and Fidele gasped, a cut appeared on her forearm, her sword dropping to the grass. Behind him Lykos heard the clash of blades, a man grunt in pain, a thud as his lads finished off Fidele’s last guard.

“Enough of this,” Lykos said, holding his hand out to Fidele. She glanced behind her, down at the long drop to the rocks below.

“Don’t be foolish,” Lykos said. “Come with me, live. Who knows, you may escape again.”

Fidele threw herself at him, spitting and snarling and they reeled close to the edge, Fidele punching him in the head a dozen times and raking bloody grooves in his face with her nails before Lykos had caught her wrists. He slapped her across the cheek, hard, shook her, and her eyes spun, her colour draining.

She’s still concussed. Good. Should make her more manageable.

“Stop this foolishness. You’re coming with me,” he growled at her.

He heard the thud of feet behind him.

“Let her go,” a voice snarled.