Kurt nodded and answered nothing. Whatever the temper of the spirit that lived in the metal, he knew the one which lived in Kta t’Elas. Gentle Kta had prepared himself to kill and, in truth, he did not want to stand too near, or to find any friend in Kta’s path.
And when they came to the threshold where t’Nethim waited, Lhe t’Nethim bowed his face to the stone floor and let Kta pass the door before he would rise. When Kurt delayed to close the door of Elas and secure it, t’Nethim gathered himself up and crept out into the gathering dark, the look on his perspiring face that of a man who had indeed been brushed by something that sought his life.
“He has prayed your safety,” Kurt ventured to tell him.
“Sometimes,” said Lhe t’Nethim, “that is not enough. Go ahead, t’Morgan, but be careful of him. It is the dead of Elas who live in that thing. Mim my cousin-”
He ceased with a shiver, and Kurt put the nemet superstition out of mind with a horror that Mini’s name could be entangled in the bloody history of Isthain.
He ran to overtake Kta, and knew that Lhe t’Nethim, at a safe distance, was still behind them.
XXIII
“There” said Ian t’Ilev, nodding at the iron gate of the Afen. “They have several archers stationed inside. We are
bound to take a few arrows. You and Kurt must have most care: they will be directly facing you for a few moments.”
Kta studied the situation from the vantage point in the door of Irain. It was dark, and there were only ill-defined shapes to be seen, the wall and the Afen a hulking mass. “We cannot help that. Let us go. Now.”
Ian t’Ilev bowed shortly, then broke from cover, darting across the street.
In an instant came a heart-stopping shriek, and from the main street poured a force of men bearing torches and weapons: the Indras-descended came in direct attack against the iron gate of the Afen, bearing a ram with them.
White light illuminated the court of the Afen, blinding, and there was an answering Sufak ululation from inside the wall. The blows of the ram began to resound against the iron bars.
Kurt and Kta held a moment, while men from Isulan poured around them. Then Kta broke forth and they followed him to the shadow of the wall. Scaling-poles went up.
The first man took with him the line that would aid their descent on the other side. He gained the top and rolled over, the line jerking taut in the hands of those who secured it on the outside.
The next man swarmed up to the top and then it was Kurt’s turn. Floodlights swung over to them now, spotting them, arrows beginning to fly in their direction. One hissed over Kurt’s head. He hooked a leg over the wall, flung himself over and slid for the bottom, stripping skin from his hands on the knotted line.
The man behind him made it, but the next came plummeting to earth, knocking the other man to the ground. There was no time to help either. Kta landed on his feet beside him, broke the securing thong and ripped Isthain from its sheath. Kurt drew his own ypan as they ran, trying to dodge clear of the tracking floodlight.
The wall of the Afen itself provided them shelter, and there they regrouped. Of the twenty-four who had begun, at least six were missing.
T’Nethim was the last into shelter. They were nineteen.
Kta gestured toward the door of the Afen itself, and they slipped along the wall toward it, the place where the Methi’s guard had taken their stand. They knew those men but there was no mercy in the arrows which had already taken toll of them, and none in the plans they had laid. The door must be forced.
With a crash of iron the wall-gate gave way and the Indras under Ian t’Ilev surged forward in a frontal assault on the door to the Afen, the Sufaki archers, standing and kneeling, firing as rapidly as they could. Kta’s small force hit the bowmen from the flank, creating precious seconds of diversion. Isthain struck without mercy, and Kurt wielded his own blade with less skill but no less determination.