The Ghazel reached the door and struck it hard.
“Run!” Hadrian called forward, and Royce reached the bottom of the stairs in seconds, waiting for the rest to join him.
Boom!
Hadrian glanced over his shoulder, watching Myron help Gaunt down. There was a loathsome clicking on the far side of the door, and he imagined all those claws scratching. Magnus remained on his knees, picking up wedges of broken stone and hammering them into cracks to hold the door tight.
Boom!
A red glow was visible, seeping in around the edges. Licks of flame curled through like long fingers reaching, searching.
“The door won’t stop them,” Arista said. She too remained on the landing, standing before the door, and Hadrian could see tension in her face. “And we can’t keep running. They will eventually catch us. I have to stop them. Go on ahead.”
“You tried that,” Hadrian told her sternly.
“I didn’t understand then. I’ll do better this time.” Her little body was breathing fast as she stared unblinking at the door, her hands clenching and unclenching.
“There’s three of them and only one of you, and there’s this fire thing. You—”
“Go!” she shouted. “It’s the only way!”
Boom!
Cracks appeared across the face of the door. Bits of stone chipped off and fell on the dwarf’s head.
“Go on, all of you!” She closed her eyes and began to mutter. Myron and Gaunt were finally at the bottom. Magnus followed quickly, vaulting down the steps. Mauvin and Alric hesitated partway down, but Hadrian remained—reluctant to leave her.
Boom!
The door fractured, the hands of flames bending around, gripping tight, ripping at the stone.
Arista’s robe burst forth a brilliant white light, the stairs illuminated so harshly everyone shielded their eyes.
Boom!
The door buckled.
“No, you don’t!” Arista shouted above the thunder of the stone.
White light rushed to the door, circling it and forcing back the red fire, filling the gaps. The flaming fingers recoiled and fought. Writhing and twisting, sparks erupted where the two met. From the far side they all heard an unnatural howl of pain that shook the bowels of the stone. A loud crack shuddered through the walls and, like a candle she blew on, the fiery light went out with a snap.
Arista remained on the landing, her face slick with sweat, her arms up, her fingers weaving in the air as if she were playing an invisible harp. The stone of the doors glowed with a blue light, brightening and ebbing like a luminous heartbeat. Her movements became faster, her hands jerking. She grunted and cried out as if in alarm.
“No!” she shouted.
A wind filled the space around her; Arista’s hair whirled and snapped, her robe blowing, billowing out, shimmering like the surface of a moonstruck lake.
“Arista?” he called to her.
“They’re—they’re—” She was clearly struggling, fighting something. The pulsing light on the door sped up, growing faster and faster. She screamed and this time her head dodged to one side. She took a step backward and with another grunt struggled to throw her weight forward. “They’re fighting me!”
She cried out again and Hadrian felt a powerful gust of wind burst through the door. It staggered both of them. Hadrian placed a hand on the wall to keep from falling.
“More than three!” she said. “Oh dear Maribor! I can’t—”
Her face was straining, her jaw clenched; her eyes watered and tears fell down her cheeks. “I can’t hold them. Run! Run!”
The door exploded. Bits of stone flew cracking across the walls, splitting and whizzing. Dust blossomed in a cloud. Arista flew back, crumpling to the floor—her light all but out. The robe managed only a quivering purple glow.
“No!” Hadrian shouted. He grabbed hold of her and lifted just as through the door the goblin horde charged.
They broke through the fog of dust with snarling teeth and glowing eyes. They attacked with sachels held high, fanged mouths spitting curses and dripping with anticipation.
Alric drew forth the sword of Tolin Essendon. “In the name of Novron and Maribor!” he shouted fiercely as he charged up the steps with Mauvin close behind. The shimmering blade of Count Pickering slid free of its sheath. “Back!” the king cried. “Back to Oberlin, you mangy beasts!”
Hadrian ran down the steps, clutching the princess to his chest. Behind him, he could still hear Alric’s cursing the goblins, the blades’ ringing, and the Ghazels’ screams.
As Hadrian reached the bottom, Arista was stirring, her eyes fluttering open. He handed her to Myron. “Keep her safe!”
He turned, drew his swords, and ran back up the steps with Royce right behind. Above him, Mauvin and Alric fought as dark blood splattered the walls and spilled down the steps. Already a mound of bodies lay on the landing. He was still three steps away when Alric cried out and fell.