The Essence Gate War: Book 01 - Adept (30 page)

Grelthus
hurled Halthak from him with a roar of fear and rage, then wheeled and bolted back in the direction from which he had come. The healer stumbled and was caught by Syth.

“Quickly, follow Grelthus!” Halthak shouted
. “The glass wall is raised in the room we left, and we can shut out the creatures if we get there before he shuts us out as well!”

They
raced after the Wyrgen. Ahead, more hulking lupine shapes were pouring onto the terrace beyond the stairs that led to the viewing chamber they had to reach. Behind, the savage tide hurtled after them.

Amric grimaced as he reached the foot of the narrow stairway. Like its twin on the other side, it led from the terrace to a landing atop a square bulkhead, which then opened onto the much wider steps before the viewing chamber. He had hoped to defend these narrow access points until the wall could be lowered, but he could see now that he needed a new strategy. Several of the beasts crowded up the narrow stairs on the other side, while still more hurled themselves at the bulkhead with prodigious leaps, catching at the edge to haul themselves over the side. One of the corrupted Wyrgens caught Grelthus on the broad upper steps, and the pair fell to grappling, snarling and thrashing back and forth as they tore at each other with claw and tooth.

Amric’s
mind raced. The lower stairs were already overrun, and could not be held in any event since it was obvious the creatures could scale the bulkhead with relative ease. The open wall of the viewing chamber was too wide by far to hold with their current numbers. The chamber might have a confined stairwell like the other, but the swift Wyrgens would drag them down before they could reach it, and he was loath to gamble their defense on the layout of a room he had not yet seen. The mindless creatures were gathering by the hundreds below in the amphitheater. Any mistake at this point and they would be trapped and crushed beneath the onrushing wave; likewise, any hesitation, and they would be just as quickly overwhelmed in the open.

“Clear the upper stairs!” he shouted to the others
. “Valkarr and I will hold them as long as we can. You three help Grelthus, we need him to close the glass wall. When it starts to lower, we will dive under and join you. Now go!”

Amric leapt up to the landing
. The Wyrgens there were slinking forward in anticipation, focused upon the combatants on the stairs above, and he was among them before they were aware of his presence. Two went down beneath his blades without a sound, and a third whirled toward him only to pitch forward with a cloven skull. Valkarr plunged into the midst of those crawling over the side of the bulkhead, his dual swords whistling in lethal arcs that sent woolly forms tumbling from the landing.

The
Wyrgens recovered quickly, however, and surged after this new threat. Amric ducked under slicing talons, ripping his sword upward in response, and the attacker pitched backward in a crimson spray. His other sword swept out to send a grasping claw spinning away, and reversed in a lightning stroke to open the gaping creature’s throat. He hammered a kick into the thing’s barrel chest, propelling it backward to crash into its fellows on the narrow stairs. Amric followed, and in the chaos his darting swords silenced each Wyrgen that sought to struggle past the thrashing mass to reach him.

A shout from Valkarr brought him around
. The Sil’ath warrior had momentarily cleared the edge of the landing, but the wave of Wyrgens following them had reached the foot of the lower steps. The swarm was building rapidly on all sides of the bulkhead as the creatures sought to ascend but were hindered by their own numbers.

Amric threw a glance upward to see Syth and Halthak
cresting the stairs, dragging the stumbling Grelthus between them, leaving two dark forms sprawled in their wake. They passed under the raised glass wall and into the viewing chamber, disappearing from view. Bellimar followed, his grim expression inscrutable as he met Amric’s gaze for the briefest of moments.

The warriors
backed up the steps, spreading apart to cover as much of the broad passage as they could. The approach was far too wide for two men to hold for long, especially against such numbers, but he hoped they could keep the beasts focused upon them so that none slipped by to pursue the others. If they could purchase a minute or two, it should be sufficient to trigger the mechanism lowering the wall and see it closed.

T
he heavens help them all if it took longer than that.

The
Wyrgens came onward, streaming from the lower stairways and clawing their way over the edge of the bulwark. They filled the landing, the crest of a snarling wave that rose from a sea of pressing bodies on the terrace below. Slavering jaws grinned wide below fiery eyes, and curved talons in a myriad of brilliant hues flexed in anticipation. Howling in rage, they surged up the steps at the waiting warriors.

Amric and Valkarr gave ground in the initial rush, slipping like phantoms away from snapping fangs and raking claws
. Steel flickered in the blaze of the Essence Fount, and the charge faltered as the eager howls mixed with shrieks of pain and anger. The front rank of Wyrgens slumped to the stone, and as the next ranks made to hurdle over their fallen fellows, the warriors plunged forward as one to press the attack.

Amric fought
like a man possessed, teeth bared in fury, cutting a scarlet swath through his foes. Hulking forms fell back from him on all sides, but more clambered over the heaped corpses to hurl themselves at him. Valkarr was beside him, a whirlwind of cutting steel, and they drove like a fearsome wedge into the horde.

Then Amric’s fear came to pass
. Even as the bulk of the host hurled itself into the teeth of their onslaught, some of the creatures began to slip around them on the outside edge of the stairway. The warriors were forced to spread out more to prevent the mass from flowing around and surrounding them, or racing past to the viewing chamber. As they did so, however, several of the Wyrgens thrust themselves between them, isolating and encircling them for a perilous moment. They leapt back up the stairs, fending off the press of bodies as the charge threatened to overwhelm them.

Amric cursed
. The two of them could not hold these stairs any longer, and the glass wall had still not begun to close.

A sudden gale of wind erupted at his side
. Claws rasped on stone as the attackers in the front line staggered back, and the creatures threw up hairy arms to shield their squinting eyes as the wind ripped at them. Syth slid to a halt beside Amric, and flashed him a fierce grin.

“What is this, thief?” Amric said
. “I had the impression that you were not much for a losing cause.”

“I am not,” Syth admitted
. “But you are out here making valor look so good that my common sense has been overwhelmed for a time. Besides, I would not see this mangy pack of dogs cheat the storytellers of the epic fight that you and I will yet have.”

With a scream of fury, Syth dove forward into the mass
. One metallic black fist slammed into a furry torso with a resounding crack, while another swung in an open-handed blade to shatter an outstretched arm. Dropping into a low spin, he swept the legs from under several Wyrgens and exploded upward into a tremendous uppercut that catapulted one of the creatures into the air to land atop his fellows. Syth barked out short bursts of maniacal laughter as he moved among the creatures like a devastating whirlwind. Taken aback by the sheer ferocity of his attack, the Wyrgens shrank from him for a moment, screaming in frustration. Amric and Valkarr took advantage of the confusion to press the attack, and the three warriors spread out to cover the stairs.

For a long moment, the scene stood thus, like a persistent wave crashing against the stubborn rocks of shore. The charge was repelled, and neither side gave ground. But the enraged Wyrgens kept coming, sometimes hurling the lifeless bodies of their own kind from the stairs in their eagerness to reach the intruders. Blood flew from sword and gauntlet, but glowing talons inevitably found their marks as well, tearing through cloth and armor to sear the flesh beneath with foul energies. The creatures pressed forward with renewed fervor, sensing that their foe teetered on the edge of being overwhelmed. The first strike that did more than graze the agile warriors would end the stalemate.

It happened in an instant.

Bolstered by his battle fury, Amric had managed to put aside the strange illness caused by the Essence Fount through sheer force of will, and he anchored the center of their defensive line behind an impassable wall of steel. Over the heaving sea of Wyrgens, he saw the Fount pulse and swell, its light flaring to a sudden crescendo of brilliance like some impossibly massive stroke of lightning within the amphitheater. Amric staggered, his head swimming and the strength draining from his limbs, and a moment’s weakness was all it took.

Grasping claws pulled at his
mail shirt, throwing him off balance, and huge hairy fists slammed into him, knocking the breath from him. Jaws gaped at him from a wolfish visage, and he slapped away a clutching arm and lashed out with a return stroke that drew a yelping scream. His vision dimmed and he stumbled back, making weak cuts at the forest of claws that raked at him. Then he fell back on the cold stone steps, the wave crashed over him, and all went black.

Halthak was helping to lift Grelthus to his feet when he saw Amric fall beneath the corrupted Wyrgens on the stairs. He froze in horror, his breath caught in his throat. Bellimar released Grelthus’s other arm and took a rapid step toward the stairway.

With an incoherent cry, Valkarr
leapt to his fallen friend’s defense. Heedless of his own safety, he burst among them like a demon, cleaving through the creatures with a berserk ferocity. A snarling, grizzled head tumbled down the stairs, freed of its body. Another hulking form staggered and fell back, cloven nearly in twain. Syth joined him an instant later in a blast of biting wind, hammering powerful blows into spine and skull until the beasts over Amric retreated or were still. Shoulder to shoulder they fought, driving back the Wyrgens for precious seconds.

“H
ealer!” Valkarr bellowed. “Pull him free!”

Halthak turned to Grelthus, who was now recuperated enough to stand
. “Be ready with that wall!” he ordered as he shoved the Wyrgen toward the panel nestled on the side wall of stone.

Darting out of the chamber
and onto the broad stairway, he knelt by Amric. The warrior was unconscious and bleeding from countless minor wounds, but was still breathing. He slid his hands under Amric’s arms and heaved, dragging him from beneath the panting combatants. Wicked talons reached for him from amid the press, and Halthak flinched away without relinquishing his grip. They never landed, however, and when the healer looked again the severed arm was rolling on the flagstones nearby, still twitching. With a surge of effort, the Half-Ork pulled the man free and started up the stairs.

Behind him, the
vibrating rumble of ponderous machinery began, and the enormous glass wall began its slow descent.

Too early,
Halthak thought as panic rose like ice in his chest. After all it had taken to revive the stricken Wyrgen, he had now triggered the wall at the worst possible time. He threw a glance over his shoulder to see Grelthus leaning against the side wall, watching the battle on the stairs with an unreadable expression. Bellimar was behind the lowering portal, standing poised and rigid like he meant to throw himself into the fray. The Half-Ork looked up to the clear sheet of diamond-hard material, several feet thick, rumbling its way downward to the floor. His gut twisted as he realized he was not going to make it. The wall would come down before he could reach the safety of the chamber, burdened as he was, and it would either seal them without or crush them under its weight.

“Hold the wall!” he cried.

Grelthus tore his eyes from the battle to meet the healer’s gaze.

A
slow, malevolent smile spread across the savage countenance, and the wall continued to descend.

Halthak shouted a warning to Syth and Valkarr, but the warriors were locked in battle and could not turn away to help or even to escape themselves
. He gritted his teeth and heaved with all his might, dragging the limp form of the swordsman up the steps. Certain death awaited them out here. He had no choice but to beat the descending wall. He resolved not to look back again, but instead to pull for all he was worth, and he and Amric would either live or die together. He reached the top of the stairs and lunged backward, grunting with the effort. His head struck the edge of the glass wall. He ducked under it and tightened his fists in Amric’s chain shirt, sinking his claws into the link to retain his grip. He wrenched back, pulling desperately at the warrior, sick with the knowledge that he had not been fast enough, but unwilling to abandon their only chance.

With a squealing groan of protest, the wall’s descent came to a sudden stop.

Halthak’s mouth fell open in disbelief, and he turned wide eyes upward. Bellimar stood above him, eyes glowing red like searing pinpoints of flame, pale hands straining under the edge of the wall. The old man’s back was bowed and his frame shook with the effort, but somehow, impossibly, he was holding up the titanic weight of the wall.