Stepping forward he bowed to the Duke – then flung one of his swords into the air. The second followed it. Swiftly he drew the third, and this, too, he sent spinning into the air, just as the first blade returned to his hand. He began to leap and twirl, while juggling the blades. Meanwhile the twelve black hounds moved stealthily towards the spectators.
Faster and faster the swordsman spun the blades.
What happened next was so swift that few registered the act. The swordsman’s hand flicked out. One of the swords flew straight into the chest of Lord Ruall. Instantly the second lanced through the throat of Elphons, Duke of Kydor. The third plunged through the heart of Lady Aldania.
For a moment only, there was silence in the hall.
Then the first of the hounds leapt, its great fangs ripping out the throat of a reveller.
‘Enjoy a taste of true magic!’ bellowed Lord Aric.
More smoke billowed, and a score of Kraloth rushed from it. The crowd panicked and tried to beat their way through the barred doors. Again the smoke came. Now there were some fifty demonic hounds.
They rushed into the crowd, their long fangs ripping and tearing at the silk- and satin-clad nobles. Aric watched from the gallery, his eyes gleaming. It was incredible! He saw one young man run across the hall and try to jump to the stair rail. A Kraloth leapt at him, jaws closing on his leg. Trie noble clung desperately to the rail. The Kraloth fell back to the hall floor, taking the lower part of the man’s leg with him. Aric tapped Lord Panagyn on the shoulder, pointing out the scene. Blood gouting from the severed limb, the noble had almost managed to haul himself on to the stairs. Aric gestured to the bodyguard Gaspir, who was standing close by. The man ran along the gallery, and down the stairs. Just as the noble believed he had reached safety Gaspir came alongside. The young man reached out to Gaspir, seeking help. The black-bearded bodyguard grabbed him, tipping him back into the hall. As his body struck the floor a Kraloth leapt upon him, ripping away his face.
All across the hall there were similar scenes. Aric gloried in them. He swung to make a comment to Eldicar Manushan, and saw that the magicker had withdrawn from the gallery rail and was sitting on a bench with his page. He seemed lost in thought.
Aric stared down at the dead Duke. His one complaint was that the man had died too swiftly. Pompous bastard! He should have been made to watch all his followers scream and die.
At that moment Aric saw movement on the East Gallery. The youth, Niallad, had emerged from his room and was standing at the rail, staring in horror at the blood-letting below.
Aric looked around for Gaspir. The bodyguard was standing with one of Panagyn’s men. They, too, had seen the boy. Gaspir glanced towards Aric for confirmation.
Aric nodded. Gaspir drew his dagger.
Niallad’s mind reeled at the sights before him. The sound of screaming filled his ears. The hall was awash with blood and corpses. A severed arm was draped over one of the food tables, dripping gore on to bone-white plates. Huge black hounds were leaping on the terrified survivors. Niallad saw a man hammering at one of the doors, shouting to be let out. One hound leapt upon his back, massive teeth crunching down on his skull.
Niallad gazed down and saw his parents, slain where they sat. A black-garbed swordsman approached his father’s body, reached out, then pulled a sword from his father’s body. The corpse of Duke Elphons toppled sideways.
‘Murderer!’ screamed Niallad. The warrior looked up, then transferred his gaze to Eldicar Manushan, who was now leaning on the North Gallery banister rail, watching the carnage below. Beside him stood Lords Aric and Panagyn.
Niallad could not, at that moment, comprehend why these men were standing idly by. He felt giddy and sick and began to lose all sense of reality. Then he saw Gaspir and another man moving towards him.
‘They have killed my father, Gaspir,’ he said.