the meagre light illuminating yet more corpses and the streaks of blood on the walls. Vaelin charged along the broad hallway, drawn by the familiar sound of battle, screams and shouts mingling with the ring of steel.
As he approached a set of wrecked doors a black-clad body abruptly sprang to its feet, whirling towards Vaelin with a curve-bladed sword. He ducked under the stroke and slashed his sword into the assassin’s leg. The man responded with impressive swiftness, apparently immune to the pain of his wound as he whirled again, bringing his sword up in a swift stroke aimed at Vaelin’s groin. He stepped clear of the blade’s sweep, his own already drawn back for a countering thrust at the man’s face, which proved unnecessary as Nortah’s gore-covered sword point appeared under the assassin’s chin.
“Tricky buggers, aren’t they?” he said, drawing the blade clear and letting the corpse fall.
Vaelin kicked his way through the remnants of the doors, emerging into a huge meal hall where a battle raged amidst a chaos of overturned tables and dead or dying men. The Red Scouts were clustered into a ragged but solid line alongside a much less orderly group of soldiers from the garrison. They numbered perhaps fifty men in all but were battling a force almost twice their strength. Vaelin could see Sho Tsai in the centre of the Red Scouts’ line, barking orders with a bloodied sword in hand that blurred with precise and deadly regularity as he fended off repeated attacks. Sehmon stood at his side, jabbing frantically with one of the six-foot-long spears favoured by Far Western soldiery. Tsai Lin was closer, positioned at the end of the Scouts’ formation where the enemy seemed to have clustered. The Dai Lo battled two assassins at once, his armour spattered with a copious amount of blood, although from the skill and swiftness with which he moved, Vaelin doubted he was wounded.
By the time Vaelin had closed the distance between them, the Dai Lo had despatched one assassin and maimed another, the man kneeling in silent shock as he regarded the blood pumping from the stump of his wrist. He recovered with what seemed an unnatural rapidity, regaining his feet and drawing a knife that he prepared to throw at Tsai Lin, who had turned to face a trio of fresh enemies.
Vaelin hacked down the one-handed man before he could throw his knife, kicking the corpse aside and moving to stand at Tsai Lin’s left. The three men before them paused for a brief second, Vaelin sensing a mutual unspoken decision before they surged forward in unison. He dodged a thrust, flicked his sword at the assassin’s eyes, then followed up with a punch to his chest as the man raised his arm to block Vaelin’s blade. It was a precisely aimed blow to the sternum, capable of leaving a man senseless if delivered with sufficient force. This man, however, was stunned for only an instant, letting out a hard grunt before lowering himself into a crouch and charging forward, sword held in a two-handed grip and aimed at Vaelin’s belly. He sidestepped the charge and spun to one knee, ready to lash at the assassin’s legs, but before he could do so Alum’s spear jabbed into his guts. The man staggered as the hunter withdrew the spear, adjusted his grip and delivered a fatal thrust to the neck with enough force to split his enemy from larynx to spine.
The Moreska shouldered the collapsing corpse aside, spear jabbing once again, this time into the thigh of one of the men facing Tsai Lin. The Dai Lo took full advantage of the distraction, stepping forward to bring his sword around in a single fluid arc that slashed open the throats of both attackers.
“Form line!” Tsai Lin called out to a nearby group of garrison soldiers who were busy hacking at a partially dismembered corpse. “If you would care to cover my left, Honoured Sir . . .” the Dai Lo said to Alum, who apparently failed to notice, charging straight into the midst of the assassins, spear whirling left and right.
“I don’t think he’s much for tactics,” Nortah observed. He hefted his sword, nodding at the now-frenzied melee with a raised eyebrow. “Shall we?”
Vaelin nodded and they launched themselves in Alum’s wake. As Vaelin had noted before in moments like this, the more heated the combat became, the more time seemed to slow. Sound and sensation slipped away as mind and body became