The smell of lantern oil hung heavily in the still air of the catacombs, and the warriors crouched in nervous silence, listening to the steady thudding sound of Daroth hammers and pick-axes coming ever closer. Forin wiped sweat from his face and glanced at Vint, who was standing beside the column of a towering stalagmite. The swordsman’s face seemed strained and tense in the yellow, flickering light of the lanterns. Some way to his left Tarantio was sitting on a jut of rock, head down and arms on his knees. Forin took a deep, calming breath and walked back among the kneeling crossbow-men. No-one spoke, and the sheen of fear-sweat was bright on every face.
For the second time in an hour Forin strode forward, crossing the cavern floor all the way to the far wall. Once there, heart pounding, he placed his hand on the rock. This time he could feel the vibration of the Daroth hammers tingling against his palm.
Tarantio looked up as the giant returned, lantern light gleaming on the polished iron breastplate. ‘Soon,’ whispered Forin.
Where are you, Dace?
There was no response. Tarantio was trembling and terror was growing within him. A splintering thud, louder than before, caused him to jerk as if stung. Rising to his feet, he found his legs unsteady and was filled with an
urge to run from this dark, shadow-haunted place. Even as the thought came to him, a young crossbow-man to the rear dropped his weapon and scrambled back along the paint- marked tunnel. Other men stirred and Forin moved amongst them, patting a shoulder here, pausing to whisper encouragement there, his colossal presence calming them. He gave the signal to cock the weapons.
Tarantio’s mouth was dry, and he thought of Miriac waiting for him back at the house, the bright sunshine streaming through the open windows. If the Daroth were to break through here … The thought was too awful to entertain.
The edge of a pick-axe smashed through the black rock. The crossbow-men set up their tripods, resting their heavy weapons upon them, aiming at the wall. Vint and Tarantio moved back away from the killing area. Tarantio drew his sword, which shimmered in the lantern light.
A large section of rock fell away – then another, crashing to the cavern floor. A huge Daroth engineer stepped into sight. Three crossbow bolts smashed through his skull and he pitched to the ground. Frenzied activity began in the tunnel, picks and hammers crashing at the last barriers. The hole widened and the Daroth swarmed through, their faces ghostly white, their massive forms throwing giant shadows on the walls.
Crossbow bolts tore into them, and they charged. Tarantio darted from behind a stalagmite and sent a slashing cut through the ribs of the first Daroth warrior. Ducking under a thrusting sword-blade, he speared his own weapon through the belly of a second. On the other side of the cavern Vint lanced his sword into the chest of a Daroth warrior, then spun on his heel to send a reverse cut across the throat of a second. Behind them the crossbow-men were retreating to the second line of defence.
Vint leapt back, then turned on his heel and ran for cover, keeping close to the right-hand wall. A hurled spear smashed into a stalagmite, sending shards of stone into his face and neck. Ahead was a line of sandbags, with crossbow-men kneeling behind them. As Vint leapt over them, then spun to face the enemy, he saw Tarantio running along the far side of the cavern, scrambling to safety.
The mass of Daroth surged forward. The crossbows sang, and fifty bolts slammed into the leading warriors. The Corduin soldiers struggled in vain to reload – a few succeeded – but the Daroth were upon them, serrated swords smashing through armour, flesh and bone. Vint leaped forward, cutting and killing. ‘Back!’ he shouted. The defenceless crossbow-men needed no instructions; they fled along the tunnel. Vint followed them, Tarantio to his right.
There was no sound of pursuit. Spinning, the two men looked back. The Daroth were standing by the sandbag wall, then they filed away to the right. Vint swore.