Behind the Stormguard, the lashing wind tore the dust away to reveal the Adjunct down and the priest of the Lady exulting, laughing, the child yet at his side, frozen in horror, frozen in terror. That triumphant smile fell away, however, as a new figure bounded in from the side, rolling, closing with the priest — Faro. Before the priest could even react the Claw stitched him with countless knife-thrusts. Gaping his disbelief the man stared, unmoving, until Faro kicked him over the edge. Then the Claw turned to look down at the girl and raised his gleaming wet blades.
‘No!’ Fist Rillish yelled, charging past the Stormguard. The Korelri slashed his back as he passed. The Fist yanked the girl from Faro’s side.
Suth engaged the Stormguard, Ipshank limping just behind. ‘Do not touch the chest!’ the priest yelled.
Shrugging, Faro lazily advanced on the Stormguard Suth faced and the Korelri turned to keep the two of them before him. All this time Captain Peles exchanged ringing blows with the only other Korelri standing. They seemed to have made a pact to see who could outlast the other.
Shifting, panting, his foot numb and almost useless, Suth tried to bring the Stormguard’s back to Faro. Ipshank yelled then, next to him, ‘Rillish!’
Suth snapped a quick glance to the cliff edge. The Fist, his hands on the shoulders of the girl before him, was slowly leaning as if drunk. His eyes rolled up white and he tottered backwards, his hands slipping from the girl’s shoulders. He disappeared over the edge.
‘No!’ Peles howled and she smashed the Korelri facing her in a blurred storm of blows, literally crushing him to the ground before charging to the edge. Ipshank ran as well.
‘Yield,’ Suth gasped breathlessly to the last standing Stormguard.
The Chosen snorted from within his helm. ‘Don’t be a fool.’
‘You’re the fool,’ Suth answered, and nodded to Faro.
The Korelri snapped a quick glance to Faro, and as he did so the Claw flicked a hand. The Chosen flinched, his arms jumping like a puppet’s, then he sank to his knees and fell on his side. The handle of a throwing blade protruded from the narrow vision slit of his helm.
Suth limped for the cliff edge. Here he found Captain Peles, her helm thrown aside, white hair a matted sweaty mess, panting, gulping in great breaths. Out over the yawning gulf, straight-armed, she held the child by her shirt. The chest lay to one side.
‘Don’t do it,’ Ipshank was saying in a low calm voice. ‘Don’t give in to it. Don’t. You’ll never forgive yourself.’
Tears ran down the woman’s grimed, sweaty face. Her lips were pulled back from her teeth in a savage frozen snarl.
No one dared move. Far below the waves pounded, white-capped, insistent. Rocks tumbled and clattered down the freshly exposed cliff.
‘Don’t yield to it,’ Ipshank said, not begging nor commanding, simply matter-of-fact.
The woman drew three great shuddering breaths, seemed on the verge of weeping, then threw the child to Ipshank and stalked away, her hands over her face.
The priest held the girl to him. ‘Get everyone up,’ he told Suth.
A dash of water from a goatskin woke Kyle, who groaned, stirring. Whatever was supposed to have been protecting him appeared to have insulated him from the blast, as his only wound was the gash that split his scalp. Manask had escaped death yet again by virtue of his extraordinary armour, which even in its shredded state had protected him from an immense knife-edged stone that pinned him down. Suth and Kyle levered the stone aside and pulled him up. Pulverized rock rained from the fellow like flour. Goss they woke, then Kyle set to binding his wound. Wess they found buried under great blocks but alive. Corbin lay aside, motionless, covered in rock dust. Suth found Keri unconscious from loss of blood. He went to work binding up her leg.
Faro merely cleaned his blades. Captain Peles sat aside, head sunk in her hands. Ipshank called from the cliff edge where he sat, the girl in his arms, asleep or unconscious. ‘Look at the sea…’
Finished with Keri’s wound, Suth came to the edge. Some disturbance ran like a line across the surface of the inland body of water for as far as he could see. And it was approaching the base of their cliffs with unnatural speed.
‘Manask,’ Ipshank called. He gestured to the chest with a foot. ‘I want this as far out to sea as possible… but don’t touch it!’
Manask bounced his fingertips together as if deep in thought. ‘You know… we could get a fortune-’
‘Manask!’
He raised his hands in surrender. ‘Just a thought!’
Ipshank pointed. ‘The sea.’
‘Yes, yes. If we must. Simplicity itself!’ the giant answered — though far less a giant now as he was missing his great thick mane of hair, revealing his bald head. And he had lost or kicked aside his tall boots. His layered armour hung from him in loose, torn folds.
The big man selected one of the Korelri spears. He pushed the butt end through a grip of the chest then carefully extended it behind him, sideways. Everyone moved aside.
With a savage flick he snapped the spear forward like a kind of throwing stick, flinging the chest far out from the cliff. Suth followed its fall. So small was the chest, and so great the distances involved, he could not see it striking the surface.
Almost immediately, however, a froth arose among the waves. A glow flashed, bluish and lancing, slashing, as if striking out. Bright shapes coursed among the waves, closing from all sides. Within that patch the water foamed as if boiling.
Kyle stepped up to the edge next to Ipshank and stood watchful, hands at his belt. The squat man eyed the youth, his gaze concerned. ‘We don’t know for certain…’ he began, but the plainsman shook his head and turned away. As he went Suth saw him wipe at his face.
Manask elbowed Ipshank. ‘All finished with this nonsense now? A lifetime’s quest fulfilled, yes?’
‘Let’s hope so,’ the priest ground out.
From the rear of the cavern, behind them all, Captain Peles yelled out: ‘Attend!’
Suth turned on his wounded foot, wincing. There, filing in, came Black Moranth one after the other, until some twenty faced them. Suth would have groaned aloud if he wasn’t so appalled. Captain Peles faced them, sword readied. Kyle joined her, and Wess staggered over to them.
‘I could use my preternatural skills to sneak away — but I will stand by your side,’ Manask told Ipshank.
‘What a comfort.’
Suth glanced around for Faro, to discover that the Claw obviously did not share the giant’s sense of comradeship. He drew his sword to limp up to Wess’ side.
Then an old man slipped out from among the ranks of the Moranth: the Drenn elder, Gheven. ‘I’m sorry we are so late — we were held up by collapsed tunnels.’
Suth stared at the man, uncomprehending. ‘You… brought the Moranth? To help?’
One of the Blacks bowed. ‘I am Commander Borun. We have contracted with our cousins the Blue to lend you aid. I apologize for our tardiness.’
Kyle lowered his blade. ‘You are with the Blues?’
‘Yes. Our obligations to the Overlord ended… dissatisfactorily.’
Suth could not think of anything to say; he exchanged an uncertain look with Wess, who appeared hardly able to stand on his feet, a gash down his entire side running with blood that soaked his leg.
‘See to the wounded,’ the commander told his troops, and they fanned out over the cavern.
Suth brought Gheven to Ipshank.
The old man peered out over the cliff, where lights flashed like an undersea eruption beneath the waters of the Fist Sea. ‘I dared not hope,’ he breathed.
‘Let’s hope they were successful elsewhere as well.’
‘I fear not,’ the old man said, his voice low.
Kneeling at the unconscious girl’s side, Ipshank stiffened. ‘What do you mean?’