Hadrian’s swords flashed as he threw himself into the fight. Royce vanished only to reappear and vanish again, his white dagger flashing like a sparkling star in the night.
“Back into your holes, you beasts!” Alric shouted as he suddenly ran out with a lantern in one hand and his sword in the other. Mauvin chased after his king as Alric leapt into the fray fearlessly, cleaving into the nearest goblin. Her brother took an arm off his opponent and then ran him through. Arista’s heart stopped as Alric failed to see the blade of another Ghazel swinging from the side at his head. Mauvin saw it. A lightning-quick flash of his sword blocked the attack, sliced through the blade, and killed the goblin in one stroke.
Gaunt was up and hobbling forward.
Arista hiked up her robe and ran back down the stairs to him. “Put your arm around me!” she shouted, moving to his wounded side.
Gaunt put his weight on her. From behind them more goblins entered the square. Twenty—perhaps as many as thirty—ran forward shrieking and yelping, their claws clicking the stone, and a drone came from them like the sound of a swarm of locusts.
“Time to go!” Hadrian declared. Reaching Alric, he pulled the lantern from the king’s hand and smashed it on the stone before the attacking Ghazel. A burst of flame rose along with more cries and squeals.
“I’ve got him!” Hadrian told her. “Run!”
They all bolted for the doors that Magnus and Myron held open. As soon as they entered, the monk and the dwarf pulled them shut. Royce slid the latch.
“Get that stone bench in front of the door!” Royce shouted.
“What bench?” Mauvin asked. “It’s pitch-black in here!”
Arista barely thought about it and her robe glowed with a cold blue light that revealed the entrance hall. Musty and stale, it was much like the library, covered in cobwebs and dust. The white-and-black-checkered floor was cracked and uneven. A chandelier that had hung from the ceiling rested in the center of the floor. Braziers lay toppled, stone molding was scattered, and plaster chips littered the ground. Great tapestries still clung to either wall. Faded and dirty, they were otherwise unmarred, as were long curtains that draped the walls. Stairs led up from either side of the front doors and past two tall, narrow windows that looked out onto the square. It was then that Arista realized how much like a small castle-fortress the Teshlor Guild was.
Boom! Boom! The goblins hammered against the door, shaking the dust off the walls.
Having laid Gaunt down near the center of the room, Hadrian pulled the goblin bow from his shoulder and ran up the steps. He made use of the arrow slits to fire on the goblins outside. She heard a cry for every twang of the tiny bow and soon the hammering stopped.
“They’ve moved off,” Hadrian said, leaning heavily against the wall. “Out of bow range, at least, but now that they know they have guests, they won’t leave us alone.”
Royce looked around, scanning the stairs, the ceiling, and the walls. “Question is… is there another way in here? And perhaps more importantly, another way out?” He pulled the remaining lanterns from Myron’s pack and began lighting them.
Arista moved to Gaunt’s side. The short, foul-looking arrow had penetrated through his calf with both ends sticking out. “I can see why you were having such trouble running,” she told him as she pulled her dagger and started to cut his trouser leg.
“At least someone gives me credit,” he growled.
“You’re lucky, Mr. Gaunt,” Hadrian said, coming down the stairs and approaching them. He grabbed the first lit lantern and knelt down beside him. “If the tip was still inside your leg, this next process would hurt a lot more.”
“Next process?”
Hadrian bent down, and before Arista or Gaunt knew what was happening, he snapped off the arrow’s tip. Gaunt howled in pain.
“Get some bandages ready,” he told Arista. Myron was already there holding two rolls out to her. “Now this will hurt some.”
“This will?” Gaunt asked incredulously. “What you did befo—”
Hadrian pulled the shaft from his leg. Gaunt screamed.
Blood flowed from the wounds on either side of the leg and Hadrian quickly began wrapping and pulling the cloth.
“Put your hands on the other side and squeeze tight—real tight,” he told Arista. Blood soaked through the white linen, turning it red.
“Squeeze harder!” he told her as he unrolled a second length of cloth.
As she did, Gaunt cried out again, throwing his head back. His eyes went wide for a moment and then squeezed shut.
“I’m sorry,” she told him.
Gaunt groaned through gritted teeth.
Blood seeped through her fingers. It was warm—and slicker than she had expected, almost oily. This was not the first time she had found her hands covered in blood. In the square of Ratibor, with Emery in her arms, there was much more, but she did not notice it then.