A tall knight stepped into the doorway, blocking out the light. For a moment only she froze. Then the bow came up.
‘No,’ whispered a sibilant voice in her mind.
A terrible lethargy flowed into her limbs and she felt as if a stream of warm, dark water was seeping through the corridors of her mind, drawing out her soul, emptying her memories. It was almost welcome, a cessation of fear and concern, a longing for the emptiness of death. Then a bright light flared, deep within her thoughts, holding back the black tidal wave of warm despair. And she saw, silhouetted against the light, the silver warrior who had rescued her as a child.
‘Fight them!’ he ordered. ‘Fight them, Miriel! I have opened the doorways to your Talent. Seek it! And live!’
She blinked, and tried to aim the crossbow, but it was so heavy, so terribly heavy …
The black knight walked further into the room. ‘Give me the weapon,’ he said, his voice muffled by the helm. ‘And I will give you joys you have not yet even dreamed of.’ As he approached Miriel saw Waylander on his knees in the dust of the clearing, a black bladed sword raised above his head.
‘No!’ she shouted. The crossbow tilted to the right. She squeezed the bronze trigger. The bolt slashed through the air, plunging into the black helm and disappearing up to the flights. The black knight toppled forward.
Outside, Waylander, suddenly free of the spell, threw himself to the left as the sword hissed down. Hitting the ground on his shoulder he rolled and let fly the first of his bolts. It took the swordsman under the right armpit, cleaving through to the lungs.
A dark shadow fell across him. Waylander rolled again – but not swiftly enough! A black sword flashed for his face. The hound sprang across the fallen man, its great fangs closing on the swordsman’s wrist. Belash took one running step then launched himself feet-first at the knight, cannoning the man from his feet. The Nadir landed lightly and hurled himself on the assailant, driving his knife under the chinstrap of the black helmet and up into the man’s brain.
The hound’s angry growling panicked the horses. They reared, and – save for one gelding – bolted.
Free of the spell, Senta brought up his sabre, barely blocking the blade thrusting for his throat. He parried a second cut and, twisting his wrist, sent a vicious return that clanged against the knight’s neck gorget of reinforced chain mail. Senta shoulder-charged the warrior, spinning him from his feet. A second man attacked, but this time Senta swayed aside from the killing thrust and rammed his sabre up under the man’s helmet, the point slicing through the soft skin beneath the chin, and on up through his mouth. The knight fell back. Senta lost hold of the sabre and drew his second blade.
Angel, his back to the cabin wall, was battling against two knights, the former gladiator desperately blocking and parrying. Waylander sent a bolt through the thigh of the first assailant. The man grunted in pain and half-turned. Angel’s sword smashed against the knight’s helm, cutting through the chinstrap. The helm fell loose. Waylander’s sword clove through the man’s skull. Angel sidestepped a lunge from the second knight, grabbed the man’s arm and hauled him, head-first, into the wall. Dropping to the man’s back Angel took hold of the helm, dragging it back and sharply to the left. The knight’s neck snapped with a stomach-wrenching crack.
‘Look out!’ yelled Senta. Waylander dropped to one knee. A sword-blade sliced the air above him. Waylander flung himself backwards, hammering into his attacker and hurling the man from his feet. Senta leapt at the man. His opponent reared to his feet, then lunged. Senta swayed aside, ramming his elbow into the man’s helm. The knight staggered. Senta leaned back and kicked out, his booted foot cracking against the knight’s knee. The joint gave way. The knight screamed in pain as he fell. Belash threw himself on the fallen warrior, pulling back the neck-guard and driving his knife deep into the knight’s throat.
Miriel, the crossbow loaded once more, stepped from the cabin. The last knight ran to the one horse that had not bolted and leapt for the saddle, grabbing the pommel. The horse reared and began to run, dragging the knight with it. The hound bounded after it. Miriel brought the crossbow to her shoulder and sighted the weapon. The bolt sang clear and flashed across the clearing to punch home into the knight’s helm. For several seconds he clung to the pommel, but as the horse reached the rise the man’s fingers loosened and he fell to the earth. Instantly the dog was upon him, fangs ripping at the dead man’s throat, but unable to pierce the chain mail. Waylander called to the hound and it loped back across the clearing, standing close, its flanks pressing against Waylander’s leg.