Amric’s mind raced. The lower stairs were already overrun, and could not be held in any event since it was obvious the creatures could scale the bulkhead with relative ease. The open wall of the viewing chamber was too wide by far to hold with their current numbers. The chamber might have a confined stairwell like the other, but the swift Wyrgens would drag them down before they could reach it, and he was loath to gamble their defense on the layout of a room he had not yet seen. The mindless creatures were gathering by the hundreds below in the amphitheater. Any mistake at this point and they would be trapped and crushed beneath the onrushing wave; likewise, any hesitation, and they would be just as quickly overwhelmed in the open.
“Clear the upper stairs!” he shouted to the others. “Valkarr and I will hold them as long as we can. You three help Grelthus, we need him to close the glass wall. When it starts to lower, we will dive under and join you. Now go!”
Amric leapt up to the landing. The Wyrgens there were slinking forward in anticipation, focused upon the combatants on the stairs above, and he was among them before they were aware of his presence. Two went down beneath his blades without a sound, and a third whirled toward him only to pitch forward with a cloven skull. Valkarr plunged into the midst of those crawling over the side of the bulkhead, his dual swords whistling in lethal arcs that sent woolly forms tumbling from the landing.
The Wyrgens recovered quickly, however, and surged after this new threat. Amric ducked under slicing talons, ripping his sword upward in response, and the attacker pitched backward in a crimson spray. His other sword swept out to send a grasping claw spinning away, and reversed in a lightning stroke to open the gaping creature’s throat. He hammered a kick into the thing’s barrel chest, propelling it backward to crash into its fellows on the narrow stairs. Amric followed, and in the chaos his darting swords silenced each Wyrgen that sought to struggle past the thrashing mass to reach him.
A shout from Valkarr brought him around. The Sil’ath warrior had momentarily cleared the edge of the landing, but the wave of Wyrgens following them had reached the foot of the lower steps. The swarm was building rapidly on all sides of the bulkhead as the creatures sought to ascend but were hindered by their own numbers.
Amric threw a glance upward to see Syth and Halthak cresting the stairs, dragging the stumbling Grelthus between them, leaving two dark forms sprawled in their wake. They passed under the raised glass wall and into the viewing chamber, disappearing from view. Bellimar followed, his grim expression inscrutable as he met Amric’s gaze for the briefest of moments.
The warriors backed up the steps, spreading apart to cover as much of the broad passage as they could. The approach was far too wide for two men to hold for long, especially against such numbers, but he hoped they could keep the beasts focused upon them so that none slipped by to pursue the others. If they could purchase a minute or two, it should be sufficient to trigger the mechanism lowering the wall and see it closed.
The heavens help them all if it took longer than that.
The Wyrgens came onward, streaming from the lower stairways and clawing their way over the edge of the bulwark. They filled the landing, the crest of a snarling wave that rose from a sea of pressing bodies on the terrace below. Slavering jaws grinned wide below fiery eyes, and curved talons in a myriad of brilliant hues flexed in anticipation. Howling in rage, they surged up the steps at the waiting warriors.
Amric and Valkarr gave ground in the initial rush, slipping like phantoms away from snapping fangs and raking claws. Steel flickered in the blaze of the Essence Fount, and the charge faltered as the eager howls mixed with shrieks of pain and anger. The front rank of Wyrgens slumped to the stone, and as the next ranks made to hurdle over their fallen fellows, the warriors plunged forward as one to press the attack.
Amric fought like a man possessed, teeth bared in fury, cutting a scarlet swath through his foes. Hulking forms fell back from him on all sides, but more clambered over the heaped corpses to hurl themselves at him. Valkarr was beside him, a whirlwind of cutting steel, and they drove like a fearsome wedge into the horde.
Then Amric’s fear came to pass. Even as the bulk of the host hurled itself into the teeth of their onslaught, some of the creatures began to slip around them on the outside edge of the stairway. The warriors were forced to spread out more to prevent the mass from flowing around and surrounding them, or racing past to the viewing chamber. As they did so, however, several of the Wyrgens thrust themselves between them, isolating and encircling them for a perilous moment. They leapt back up the stairs, fending off the press of bodies as the charge threatened to overwhelm them.
Amric cursed. The two of them could not hold these stairs any longer, and the glass wall had still not begun to close.
A sudden gale of wind erupted at his side. Claws rasped on stone as the attackers in the front line staggered back, and the creatures threw up hairy arms to shield their squinting eyes as the wind ripped at them. Syth slid to a halt beside Amric, and flashed him a fierce grin.
“What is this, thief?” Amric said. “I had the impression that you were not much for a losing cause.”
“I am not,” Syth admitted. “But you are out here making valor look so good that my common sense has been overwhelmed for a time. Besides, I would not see this mangy pack of dogs cheat the storytellers of the epic fight that you and I will yet have.”
With a scream of fury, Syth dove forward into the mass. One metallic black fist slammed into a furry torso with a resounding crack, while another swung in an open-handed blade to shatter an outstretched arm. Dropping into a low spin, he swept the legs from under several Wyrgens and exploded upward into a tremendous uppercut that catapulted one of the creatures into the air to land atop his fellows. Syth barked out short bursts of maniacal laughter as he moved among the creatures like a devastating whirlwind. Taken aback by the sheer ferocity of his attack, the Wyrgens shrank from him for a moment, screaming in frustration. Amric and Valkarr took advantage of the confusion to press the attack, and the three warriors spread out to cover the stairs.
For a long moment, the scene stood thus, like a persistent wave crashing against the stubborn rocks of shore. The charge was repelled, and neither side gave ground. But the enraged Wyrgens kept coming, sometimes hurling the lifeless bodies of their own kind from the stairs in their eagerness to reach the intruders. Blood flew from sword and gauntlet, but glowing talons inevitably found their marks as well, tearing through cloth and armor to sear the flesh beneath with foul energies. The creatures pressed forward with renewed fervor, sensing that their foe teetered on the edge of being overwhelmed. The first strike that did more than graze the agile warriors would end the stalemate.
It happened in an instant.
Bolstered by his battle fury, Amric had managed to put aside the strange illness caused by the Essence Fount through sheer force of will, and he anchored the center of their defensive line behind an impassable wall of steel. Over the heaving sea of Wyrgens, he saw the Fount pulse and swell, its light flaring to a sudden crescendo of brilliance like some impossibly massive stroke of lightning within the amphitheater. Amric staggered, his head swimming and the strength draining from his limbs, and a moment’s weakness was all it took.
Grasping claws pulled at his mail shirt, throwing him off balance, and huge hairy fists slammed into him, knocking the breath from him. Jaws gaped at him from a wolfish visage, and he slapped away a clutching arm and lashed out with a return stroke that drew a yelping scream. His vision dimmed and he stumbled back, making weak cuts at the forest of claws that raked at him. Then he fell back on the cold stone steps, the wave crashed over him, and all went black.