‘Almost on us,’ said Thraun. ‘Hirad, you have two, axes raised, upper guard. Denser, you have one, Unknown, two. They’re all going to swing in unison, left to right diagonal.’
‘Ready, Unknown?’ Hirad’s voice cut through the fog of his own mind. He breathed and gagged, feeling sweat beading in his forehead and dampening his armpits.
‘You can never be ready for this. Angle your blade down to move the blows or they’ll knock you over.’
Abruptly, the scraping and clanging stopped. There was a susurration around them. Cloaks rustled in the ghost of a breeze. The quiet sent a shiver through Hirad’s body.
‘Now,’ said Jandyr.
The blows came in. At the final moment, Hirad sensed the shape of the statues and the shadow of their blades. Two hands on the hilt, he deflected one strike, swaying from the other. Sparks leapt from blades all round the circle, lighting up the nightmare masked faces of the statues for a beat before plunging them back into darkness. All that was left was the after-image. It would have been better not to have seen them at all. At least everyone survived the first round.
‘They’re slow to react,’ reported Thraun. ‘Weapons still low but moving now, probably for a slash. I don’t recommend we attack. Let’s see what they’ve got.’
‘Very basic conjuration,’ said Denser. ‘If the next blow comes in the same, it’s all they have.’
Inside the circle, Will worked feverishly, blind, head so close to the case he could smell the metal and glass above the hideous odour of the dead. Around him, The Raven fought to protect him. He focused his mind, driving away the fear. He’d felt enough with his fingers to know the glass was reinforced, that he’d need a hammer to break it and that Denser didn’t want to take that risk. But the seal was complete and he had to find the mechanism that opened it. It had to be there, he just didn’t know how much time The Raven could give him to find it.
Ilkar had taken Erienne’s hand and dodged the tightening net. But even as he ducked and side-stepped, he knew a blow wouldn’t come. The statues had their target. Knowing the doors would be too heavy, Ilkar made for the nearest shutter. Erienne, still blind, stepped on to the face of a Wrethsire guard, the neck twisting sickeningly as her weight moved across the head. She stumbled, grabbed Ilkar and shuddered.
‘Gods, it’s hideous.’
‘All right, Erienne, we’re at the edge now.’ Ilkar’s words calmed her.
‘What the hell can we do?’ Erienne, her hands placed on the wooden shutter, scrabbled at its edges. Searching but with no hope of finding.
‘Think. The Unknown tried force, we have to find the lock.’
‘And if it’s magical?’
‘We have to believe we can damage the Wrethsires’ castings.’ He shrugged, although he knew she couldn’t see him. ‘We have to.’
‘Second strike coming. Midriff slash, right to left. Back and block,’ said Jandyr. ‘Now.’
A whistle as eight axes missed their targets. Hirad found the experience totally unnerved him. He was not in control of the fight. And under his feet, the crusted surface of blood broke, robbing him of confidence in his balance. But the statues were limited in their scope, as Thraun confirmed.
‘All right, they’re taking up for the first strike again. None of them has changed position. You know what to do. Now.’
The blows came in much heavier than before. Hirad staggered back a pace, his legs brushing against Will behind him. Again his second assailant missed.
‘Denser?’
‘Still here, just about.’
‘Second strike,’ warned Thraun. ‘Now.’
Hirad just recovered in time. Beside him, The Unknown grunted under the force of the blows.
‘That’s too quick.’ If speed and weight of blow kept on increasing at the same rate, Hirad knew it would be a short fight, and he didn’t want to die without seeing the eyes of his killer.
Will found it. A pinhole tucked under the rim of the lid. It was exquisite workmanship but he didn’t pause to appreciate it. He fished in a belt pouch for his filament wire and guided it, quickly and smoothly, into the hole, thanking the Gods his nerves had returned following the death of Denser’s Familiar. Somewhere in the pinhole was the lock mechanism. Around him the fight was becoming more urgent, denying him the concentration he needed. Twice now, Hirad had stumbled backwards and his retaliating blows had done nothing but strike terrifying sparks from the silent foe.
Denser was struggling badly. The statues had picked up a rhythm whose pace was increasing, and although he could count it, he was not used to the constant strain the axe strokes produced in the muscles and tendons of his arms. And the fetid stink of rotting flesh clouded his mind and caught in his throat, triggering nausea that weakened his limbs still further. Soon his defence would collapse. He was already imagining the pain.
Ilkar and Erienne felt around the shutter. Nothing. Whatever held it was not mechanical, and without the benefit of any kind of mana flow, Ilkar knew deep down that they couldn’t hope to damage the Wrethsires’ conjuration. It would be like trying to put out a fire with a feather. Unless they could break the shutter there was no way out, and if The Unknown couldn’t make a dent, what hope did he have? He drew his sword and hammered the pommel on the heavy wood. It was all he could think of to do while behind him, his friends were being inexorably worn down.
Thraun found the going relatively straightforward. Able to switch grips at will, he, like Hirad, could effectively rest one arm at a time. Jandyr, though, was wilting. The bowman’s light blade was no match for the slugging power of the axe blows and his guard was being forced down inch by inch. Soon, they would cut him.
Will almost shouted with delight when he felt it - a let-in to the long pinhole. All he had to do was direct the filament wire down.
‘Got it,’ he said.
‘Will, do nothing.’ The Unknown fielded the next pair of blows, thinking hard. ‘They’ll go for you when you release the stone, I’m sure of it. We need to be ready. Jandyr?’
‘Yes,’ the elf gasped.
The heat was becoming stultifying and suffocating, the Temple airless, poisoned by the dead. None of them could last much longer.
‘On my word, Will’s going to pop the lid and grab the stone. Field your next blow, grab him and run him through the cordon to the end of the Temple. Got that? Will?’
‘Yes.’
Another blow, stronger, faster. More grunts of exertion.
‘The rest of us, field and dodge, they won’t come for us. Thraun, you’re the eyes, although I’m sure we all know where our enemies are standing. On my word then.’
‘Strike coming,’ said Thraun.
‘Will, now!’
The thief pushed down on the filament, and as the lid swung up, he grabbed the stone.
‘I have it.’
The Unknown caught the blows on his blade, ducked and charged through the gap between his two attackers, sensing Hirad do likewise. Jandyr turned and grabbed Will, pulling him upright and forward.
‘Run, Will!’ The elf’s cry echoed around the Temple, loud in the darkness.
Axes rose and fell, clashing sparks off the tiles as they bit. It was enough to see Will and Jandyr sprinting for the far end of the Temple, picking a path through the corpses. The scraping started again, then the clank of metal on stone. The statues were on the move.
‘Jandyr, you’re the eyes for Will,’ said The Unknown. ‘You should be able to dodge them. Don’t get trapped.’
‘Count on it.’ Jandyr sounded exhausted.
‘Let’s get one of those bloody shutters open. Thraun, direct me.’
‘Dead ahead of you now. Put your arms out. There.’
‘Ilkar, what did you find?’ asked The Unknown.
The ominous sounds of the walking statues bounced off the walls, mingling with the occasional wet crunch as they drove stone feet through the bodies of their former masters. Jandyr’s voice could be heard, low and comforting, but bone tired.