Tilda shouldered past Phin, almost elbowing him back down the stairs in her wake, and started up the dais. At her angle she could now see into the end of the open hall to the right, where John Deskata was fighting two hobgoblins with spears. One was maneuvering behind him and though the distance was still long Tilda skidded to a halt and released a shot. The arrow passed close enough by the hobgoblin’s head that the creature cringed back. John charged away from it out of Tilda’s sight, his shield high and short sword darting around the edge. Tilda ran to the top of the dais even as she drew another arrow from the open quiver on her back.
The hobgoblin she had distracted ran out of the hall and charged but Tilda had plenty of time. She took careful aim low as it ran down the facing stairs, and a shot at its knees took it full in the chest, the hard pull of the composite bow driving the arrow through leather armor. The hobgoblin sprawled and rolled the rest of the way to the floor, spear clattering beside it.
Uriako Shikashe was leading the way toward the open doors where John was fighting by the longer but fastest route, running pell-mell around the chamber under the catwalk with Amatesu and Heggenauer behind him. Phoarty had reached Claudja and Nesha-tari, and the Duchess gave the Wizard a hug. Zeb pounded up the dais behind Tilda with his crossbow loaded.
“Keep the hobgoblins off John until the others get there,” Tilda said, and drew aim again at the melee in the hall, just in time to see it end as Deskata banged a hobgoblin against the wall with his shield and snuck the red point of his short sword into its armpit. He turned to face what Tilda could now see was a much greater mass of hobgoblins still coming at him. Tilda let an arrow go over John’s shoulder, hitting the ceiling down the hallway rather than any hobs, but John did turn around to look back at her.
“ Ikhay ha!” she shouted in Miilarkian. Fall back. John blinked at her and she could see his burning green eyes and red spatters across his face. He hesitated only a moment before running back out between the doors.
A hobgoblin in the charging mass shot an arrow, probably not aimed, but it took John in the back of his thigh and he spilled to the floor. He scrambled aside and Tilda and Zeb shot into the hall, Zeb dropping immediately to stick a foot in the stirrup of his crossbow to reload it, while Tilda stood, drew from her quiver as fast as she could, and shot time and again into the approaching mass.
Shikashe barked a word over at Tilda which she didn’t know, for Balan had certainly ended whatever spell he had used to facilitate communication by now. Tilda understood the gist of it and stopped shooting as the samurai arrived in front of the doors. He released such a shout at the hobgoblins that about half the charging mass tried to stop, causing a pile-up down the hallway. Shikashe charged them with Heggenauer right behind him. Deskata screamed an oath and Tilda saw him prone beside the doors, Amatesu on top of him and tossing aside the arrow she had just yanked out of his leg. The shukenja jammed a finger into the bleeding hole and John stopped struggling to stare at her.
“Cover!” Zeb shouted, and an arrow shattered just above Tilda’s head against a bent platinum pillar. She dropped to the ground and rolled behind it for shelter, peeking around the far side. Above the open hall where Shikashe and Heggenauer were now fighting shoulder-to-shoulder to try and keep the hobs from sliding around their flanks, the doors on the catwalk were open and hobgoblin archers were lining the balustrade. They could only see Tilda and Zeb for the others were right below them, and a half-dozen rose to shoot a volley at the dais. Tilda and Zeb ducked behind the two pillars as arrows struck all around them, ringing off the metal and kicking up chips of stone from the floor.
Tilda looked across at Zeb, his bow ready on his lap, and nodded. They both leaned out and shot. Tilda at least thought she hit a hob in the leg through the open balustrade, but both had to duck back as another volley struck around them.
The air tore like parchment and lightning arced across the room, striking among the archers who screamed and roared. Nesha-tari stood at the head of the outer circle of stairs, beige cloak flapping around torn shirt and trousers and a grim smile on her face. Tilda peeked back around the pillar and saw the archers were no longer an issue. But there was trouble under the catwalk, where Shikashe and Heggenauer had been forced to yield ground. John and Amatesu had gotten one of the double doors shut but several of the hobgoblins in heavy splint mail poured into the chamber before the ex-legionnaire joined the samurai and Jobian holding the rest back in the hall. Amatesu dove on one of the hobgoblins before it got very far, clubbing it in the head, but three more broke from the melee and started banging down the stairs toward the archers on the dais.
Zeb had no time to reload his crossbow and snatched his axe from his back. He barked, “Stay behind me!” as he stepped toward the charging trio.
Tilda shot one in the head before it made the bottom of the stairs, then drew two throwing daggers from her vest and cast both. Her right-armed throw was better but the blade skipped off a hobgoblin’s helmet. The other at least stuck in the creature’s knee, toppling it howling to its side. The third charged up the stairs at Zeb until realizing it was alone, at which point it stopped and blinked at the man with the axe. Tilda took the moment to snatch up her bow and an arrow, and shot it in the face.
Zeb turned to Tilda with his eyes wide. “Maybe I’ll stay behind you.”
Deskata whistled sharply. He, Shikashe, and Heggenauer had driven the mass of hobgoblins back into the hall before breaking off the fight, and Amatesu slammed the second of the double doors behind them, locking them with a hobgoblin axe dropped into braces. There were perhaps a dozen hobs scattered around on the floor, lying still, bleeding out, or merely bleeding and crawling away. No more had appeared on the catwalk above.
“It is clear! Pull out!” Tilda called, and the party turned to run around under the catwalk back for the hall by which they had entered. Tilda nocked an arrow and backed away more slowly, still eyeing the catwalk. Zeb slung his axe and scampered back for the crossbow he had left on the floor.
Zeb was beside Tilda when he passed between the two horn-like pillars, and Tilda cried out and dropped to the floor as the two posts suddenly rang like a massive tuning fork, filling the room with a booming throom of sound she could feel in her bones. Tilda grimaced and looked around wildly, but there was no sign of Zebulon Baj Nif to be seen.
*
One step between the pillars took Zeb from the stone floor atop the dais into snow nearly two feet thick on the ground, and whipping through the air. He stumbled and plowed into the stuff head first, sliding a drift down his chest through the neck hole of his ring mail. His face was buried as well, which at least muffled the profanity.
He snapped his head up but could barely open his eyes as the wind was sharp and icy, and he began to shiver as he was in no ways dressed for the weather. Zeb rolled to a seat and looked back, and thought he dimly saw the outlines of the platinum horns behind him against the whipping wind and night sky. Then suddenly both were illuminated, and Zeb saw that though the shapes were the same, these were two great tusks rising out of the snow on the ground, more massive then those of any pachyderm of which he had ever heard.
Zeb turned around again the see where the white light was coming from, his teeth now chattering and face feeling numb. A figure stood some distance away, tall and bundled in heavy robes of thick animal skin. One sleeve flapped loose in the wind for the figure had but one arm, held high above its head to raise a staff. Bright white light shone from the staff, and threw sharp shadows across the snow from a second figure struggling toward Zeb. This one was dressed the same as the first, bundled in heavy furs, yet its gait seemed to be that of a woman despite the fact that it was made awkward by a pair of snow shoes strapped to her feet.