The stalemate held for a heartbeat. Then one of his blows got through, cleaving the side of the paladin’s neck. It was a lethal strike. The man fell senseless, blocking his fellows’ path. There was confusion. The injured officer bellowed curses.
Disgleirio seized his chance and Tanalvah’s wrist. ‘Come on!’
They broke away and fled along the alley. Twenty or thirty paces took them to a corner. They looked back. All four members of the patrol were coming after them, including the wounded officer. And now they were fuelled by vengeance.
Disgleirio glanced at Tanalvah. It was plain she could never outrun their pursuers. They turned the corner and kept moving.
‘What are we going to do?’ She was already short of breath.
He didn’t answer.
‘Save yourself. I mean it, Quinn.’
‘No.’
They came to the end of the passageway. A tall iron gate barred the way to the street beyond. Disgleirio rattled the bars. It was locked.
‘I couldn’t climb that,’ she whispered.
‘I know.’
He snatched her hand again, and dragged her back the way they’d come, to a recessed door he’d noticed. He pushed at it, and found that it too was locked.
The patrol had rounded the corner and was running towards them.
He gave the door a hefty kick. It groaned and released puffs of dust. But it didn’t budge. He glanced over his shoulder at the sprinting red-coats. Grasping the frame on either side, he pummelled the door with his boot heel. Wood splintered and it flew open. He bundled her inside.
There was just enough light to see that the place was derelict. They scrunched into muck and decay. The smell of rot was in the air.
One room opened off the passageway. Inside, the floor had given way. The only other option was a rickety staircase.
Disgleirio tried to shut the door. But he’d made too good a job of breaking it. A single hinge held it up, crazy-angled.
A paladin ran headlong into the entrance, sword thrust out. Disgleirio slammed the door into him. The man’s sword arm was trapped against the casing. He yelled in pain. Disgleirio commenced battering door against arm until the weapon and its owner went down.
‘The stairs!’
Tanalvah began climbing, hands clutching her swollen stomach. She moved slowly and clumsily.
Outside, there was uproar. The remnants of the door shook. Disgleirio threw himself against it and strained to keep the paladins out. The contest was short-lived. To the sound of snapping timber, the hunters simply tore the door off.
Disgleirio leapt to the first stair and spun to face them. Shoulder to shoulder, two paladins barged in. He caught a glimpse of their comrade in the alley behind them, on his knees, nursing his broken arm; and their leader, dripping blood, still roaring.
Tanalvah was near the top of the staircase, her white-knuckled hand on the rough banister. A few more steps would bring her to a small landing, then a turning to the next flight. If she got that far.
Disgleirio stood guard.
The space in the hallway was too confined for both paladins to attack him at once.
They jockeyed before one took the lead, while his partner attempted to vault the handrail. Disgleirio slashed at the man, denying his route, as he backed further up the stairs. The first paladin stalked him at swords-length; the other, deserting the banisters, followed. By the ruined door, the officer urged them on.
More violence was fated and it came quickly. The first redcoat sprinted, charging upstairs with sword outstretched. Disgleirio batted it aside, warding off an impaling. They swiftly traded a dozen fierce blows, with Disgleirio’s greater height giving him the advantage. The tip of his blade raked the paladin’s face. His follow-through was a massive downward rap that shattered the man’s skull.
The paladin fell back into his companion. Both of them tumbled, landing in a tangled heap at the foot of the steps. Their officer renewed his shrill tirade.
Disgleirio took the stairs two at a time, catching up with Tanalvah. ‘Keep moving!’
She gave him a pained look. He took her arm and propelled her forward.
There were two rooms on this floor, their doors ajar. They were as derelict as the one below, and their windows were boarded. Disgleirio hurried her to the second flight. The officer and the last mobile paladin were at their heels.
A bolt of scorching blue light ripped the air. Disgleirio thrust Tanalvah to one side, and ducked. Just above their heads a section of wall flamed intensely. A smouldering fissure the size of a fist had appeared in the plaster. The odour of singeing prickled their nostrils.
As the officer raised his glamour wand again, Disgleirio and Tanalvah rushed for the next staircase. Another cobalt streak flashed their way. It gouged a smoking groove along half the length of the wall, and seared a chunk of handrail. Tanalvah screamed.
Disgleirio hustled her round the next corner. She started to climb. After a few steps she turned, and saw he was still at the bottom of the stairs, flat to the wall. He held a finger to his lips and motioned her on. She hesitated, then kept going while he lay in wait.
Nothing happened for a moment. Then a sword-tip cautiously probed the air. Disgleirio tensed.
But it wasn’t the officer who appeared. It was the remaining private, sent ahead.
The space was too confined for swordplay. Both men lunged, grabbed each others’ wrists and commenced struggling. With the officer lurking nearby and liable to join in, Disgleirio had to finish the tussle quickly. He delivered a vicious head butt. It broke his opponent’s hold and impelled him backwards into the wall. Disgleirio snatched a dagger from his belt and plunged it into the dazed paladin’s chest.
He didn’t wait for the fatally wounded man to fall. Relieved to see that Tanalvah had already reached the top floor and was out of sight, he began bounding up the stairs after her.
He nearly made it.
A jolt like a kick from a mule almost knocked him off his feet. The officer had unleashed a further energy bolt. Disgleirio was lucky; it struck the blade of his sword, which took most of the impact. But the weapon was unbearably hot and he had to drop it. His palm was blistered. He felt as though a mass of burning needles peppered his arm. Clutching the knife, he raced up the last few steps.
He found Tanalvah cowering. She stared at his burnt hand. ‘Gods, you’re injured. What-’
‘It’s nothing,’ he lied. ‘I’m fine. But now we’ve only got this.’ He showed her the knife.
‘What do we do?’
He left that unanswered and took in their surroundings. This floor was very much like the one below; a couple of rooms, one doorless, with blocked windows. There were a few pieces of cheap, broken furniture.
‘Quinn.’ She pointed at the ceiling. There was a trapdoor, secured by a simple latch. ‘But I don’t think I could-’
‘Wait.’
He glanced at the stairs. As yet there was no sign of the last paladin. Then he went into a room and came out with a shabby wooden chair. ‘Could you manage with this?’
‘Maybe.’
‘Well, now’s the time to find out.’
He stood on the chair. Stretching, he slid the latch and pushed open the trap, revealing the evening sky. The stars were just beginning to come out.
‘Can you…?’
She nodded. ‘I’ll try.’
She accepted his steadying hand and laboriously mounted the wobbly chair. Once more, he looked to the stairwell. Nothing stirred there.
‘Put your foot here,’ he said, ‘on the chair back. Don’t worry, I’ve got you. Good. Now the other.’
It took an eternity of straining effort to get the pregnant woman through the trap and onto the flat roof. Panting, he scrambled up after her, slamming the door behind him. There was nothing to secure it with.
The night was growing colder, and their breath expelled in huffing clouds. Ice was starting to form on the pitch.