The Hidden City

through into the room.
    There had been four Cyrgai inside before. Now there were ten. ‘They’re changing the guard, Sparhawk!’ Bevier shouted, swinging his deadly lochaber in both hands.’
    They still had the element of surprise, but the situation had drastically changed. Sparhawk swore and cut down a Cyrgai carrying a pail of some kind—the captives’ breakfast, most likely.
    Then he rushed the four confused guards milling in front of the cell door. One of them was fighting with the lock while the other three tried to get into position. They were disciplined, there was no question about that, and their long spears did raise problems.
    Sparhawk swore a savage oath and swung his heavy broadsword, chopping at the spears. Kalten had moved to one side, and he was also swinging massive blows at the spears. There were sounds of fighting coming from the other side of the room, but Sparhawk was too intent on breaking through to the guard who was trying to force the cell door, to turn and look.
    Two of the spears were broken now, and the Cyrgai had discarded them and drawn their swords. The third, his spear still intact, had stepped back to protect the one feverishly struggling with the lock. Sparhawk risked a quick glance at the other side of the room, just in time to see Mirtai lift a struggling guard over her head and hurl him bodily down the stairs with a great clattering sound. Two other Cyrgai lay dead or dying nearby. Bevier, even as he had in Otha’s throne-room in Zemoch, held the door to the guardroom while Mirtai, like some great, golden cat, savaged the remaining guards at the top of the stairs. Sparhawk quickly turned his attention back to the men he faced.
    The Cyrgai were indifferent swordsmen, and their oversized shields seriously hindered their movements. Sparhawk made a quick feint at the head of one, and the man instinctively raised his shield. Instantly recovering, Sparhawk drove his sword into the gleaming breastplate. The Cyrgai cried out and fell back with blood gushing from the sheared gash in his armor.
    It was not enough. The Cyrgai at the cell door had abandoned his efforts to unlock it and had begun slamming his shoulder against it. Sparhawk could clearly hear the splintering of wood. Desperately, he renewed his attack. Once the Cyrgai broke through that door— And then, without even being forced, the door swung inward. With a triumphant shout, the Cyrgai who had been battering at the door drew his sword.
    And then he screamed as a new light flooded the room. Xanetia, blazing like the sun, stood in the doorway with one deadly hand extended. The Cyrgai screamed again, falling back, tangling himself in the struggles of his two comrades. Then he broke free, ran to the window and plunged through. He was still running when he went over the balustrade with a long despairing scream. The other two Cyrgai at the cell door also fled, scurrying around the room like frightened mice.
    ‘Mirtai!’ Sparhawk roared. ‘Stand clear. Let them go!’
    The Atana had just raised another struggling warrior over her head. She threw him down the stairs and turned sharply. Then she dodged clear to allow the demoralized Cyrgai to escape.
    ‘Stand aside, Sir Knight!’ Xanetia commanded Bevier. ‘I will bar that door, and I do vouchsafe that none shall pass!’
    Bevier took one look at her glowing face and stepped away from the guardroom door. The Cyrgai inside the room also looked at her, and then they slammed the door shut.
    ‘It’s all right now, Ehlana,’ Sparhawk called.
    Talen came out first, and his face was pale and shaken. The boy’s tunic was ripped in several places, and a long, bleeding scrape on one arm spoke of his struggle to get through the narrow window. He was staring in awe at Xanetia. ‘She came through the window in a puff of smoke, Sparhawk!’ he choked.
    ‘Mist, young Talen,’ Xanetia corrected in a clinical tone. She was still all aglow and facing the guardroom door. ‘Smoke would be impractical for human flesh.’
    There was a great deal of noise coming from the guardroom.
    ‘They seem to be moving furniture in there, Sparhawk,’ Bevier laughed. ‘Piling it against the door, I think.’
    Then Alcan came running out of the cell to hurl herself into Kalten’s arms, and, immediately behind her, Ehlana emerged from her prison. She was even more pale than usual, and there were dark circles under her eyes. Her clothing was tattered, and her head was tightly bound in a