“Alric!” Mauvin shouted. He turned to his fallen king just as a sachel blade stabbed out.
Mauvin cried out in pain but managed to cleave the head from the goblin’s shoulders.
“Fall back, Mauvin!” Hadrian shouted, stepping over Alric.
Standing shoulder to shoulder, the two filled the width of the corridor and fought like a single man with four arms. The whirl of their blades was daunting, and after three attempts the goblins hesitated. The goblins paused their assault and stood beyond the broken door, staring at them across a pile of Ghazel bodies.
“Mauvin, take Alric and go!” Hadrian ordered, breathing hard.
“You can’t hold them yourself,” Mauvin replied.
“You’re bleeding, and I can hold them long enough. Get your king away.”
Mauvin glared at the grinning teeth across from him.
Hadrian could see at least two of the oberdaza lying facedown on the stone table and thought, She gave as good as she got.
“Take him, Mauvin. Your duty is to him. Alric may yet live. Take him to Arista.”
Mauvin sheathed his sword, and stooping, he lifted Alric and retreated down the steps. The goblins moved a step forward, then hesitated once more as Royce appeared beside Hadrian.
“Ugly little buggers.” He appraised the faces across the threshold.
Pressure from the back was pushing the goblins reluctantly forward.
“How long before they remember they have bows?” Royce whispered.
“They aren’t the brightest, particularly when scared,” Hadrian explained. “In many respects they are like a pack of herd animals. If one panics, they all follow suit, but yeah, they’ll figure it out. I’m guessing we got maybe a minute or two. Looks like we should have been winemakers after all, huh?”
“Oh, now you think of it,” Royce chided.
“We’d be in our cottage around a warm fire right now. You’d be sampling our wares and complaining it wasn’t good enough. I’d be making lists for the spring.”
“No,” Royce said. “It’s five in the morning. I’d still be in bed with Gwen. She’d be curled up in a ball, and I’d be watching her sleep and marveling at how her hair lay upon her cheek as if Maribor himself had placed it there in just that way for me. And in the crib my son, Elias, and my daughter, Mercedes, would be just waking up.” Hadrian saw him smile then for the first time since Gwen’s death.
“Why don’t you go down with the others and leave me here?” Royce said. “You might be able to get a little farther—a little closer to the tomb. Maybe there’s another door—a door with a lock. You’ve spent enough time with me already.”
“I’m not going to leave you here,” Hadrian told him.
“Why not?”
“There are better ways to die.”
“Maybe this is my fate, my reward for the life I lived. I wish these bastards had been at the bridge that night, or at least that Merrick had fought better. I regret it now—killing him, I mean. He was telling the truth. He didn’t kill Gwen. I guess I’ll just tack that on to all the other regrets of my life. Go on. Leave me.”
“Royce! Hadrian!” Myron called to them from the bottom. “Run!”
“We can’t—” Hadrian said when he noticed a white light growing below them and felt a rising wind. “Oh son of—!”
The stairs trembled and rock cracked. Bits of stone shattered and flew in all directions, hitting them like stinging bees. Hadrian grabbed hold of Royce and leapt headlong down the steps. A loud roar issued from above them as goblins screamed and the ceiling collapsed.
“Hadrian!” Arista cried out. Her robe brightened, and Myron held his lantern high, but she could not see through the cloud of dust. She staggered on her feet, light-headed and dizzy. Her legs were weak and her thoughts muddy. Swaying with her arms reaching out for balance, she stared into the gloom of swirling dirt, her heart pounding. “Oh god, don’t let them be dead!”
“Cut that a little close, didn’t you?” She heard Hadrian’s voice emerging out of the murk.
The fighter and the thief crawled out of the haze covered in what looked to be a fine coating of gray chalk. They waved their hands before their faces and coughed repeatedly as they climbed over the rubble to join the others in the narrow corridor. Behind them, the way was sealed.
Royce looked back. “Well, that’s one way to lock them out. Not a good way—but a way.”
“I didn’t know what else to do. I didn’t know what else to do!” she said while her hands opened and closed nervously. Arista felt on the edge of losing control; she was exhausted and terrified.
“You did great,” Hadrian told her, taking her hands and holding them gently. Then, looking past her, he asked Mauvin, “How is he?”
“Not good,” the count replied with a quavering voice. “Still alive, though.”