"Dammit, don't do that! Come and take a look, ap Owen. Something's going on outside."
"I know. Half my people are giving themselves eyestrain trying to get a clear look at it."
"Do you know what it is?"
"I have a very nasty suspicion," said ap Owen, moving over to join her before the window. "I think there's someone out there, hiding behind an illusion spell. It must be pretty powerful to hide his trail as well, but as he gets closer to the house the protective wards are interfering with the spell, giving us glimpses of what it's hiding."
"You think it's just one man?"
"Not really, no. Just wishful thinking. I've put my people on full alert, just in case."
"Does whoever's out there know we've spotted something?"
"Beats me. But they haven't tried anything yet, which suggests they still trust in the illusion to hide their true strength."
Fisher scowled out the window, and hefted her sword restlessly. "All right, what do we do?"
"Wait for them to come to us. Let's see if they can even get in here before we start panicking. After all, it would need a bloody army to take this house by force."
There was a sudden, vertiginous snap and the world jerked sideways and back again, as the house's wards finally broke down the illusion spell and showed what lay behind it. The wide lawns were covered with armed men, and more were pouring through the open gates. Dressed in nondescript furs and leathers, they advanced on the house in a calm, professional way. Fisher swore respectfully. There had to be at least two hundred men out there.
The four marble statues had come alive, and were cutting a bloody path through the invaders. They were coldly efficient and totally unstoppable, but were hard put to make any impression on so many invaders. Half a dozen guard dogs blinked in and out of existence as they threw themselves at the intruders, leaping and snapping and now and again tearing at a man on the ground, but again there were simply too few of them to make any real difference. No one had expected or planned for an invasion on such a scale as this.
"I don't want to disillusion you, ap Owen," said Fisher grimly, "but it looks to me like they've got a bloody army. We are in serious trouble."
"You could well be right. From the look of them, they're mercenaries." He yelled something out the study door, and four footmen burst in, each carrying a longbow and a quiver of arrows. Ap Owen grinned at Fisher. "They don't have much use for bows in the Guard, but I've always believed in them. You can do a lot of damage with a few bowmen who know what they're doing."
"No argument from me," said Fisher. "I've seen what longbows can do."
The footmen set up before the window, pulling off their long frock coats to give them more freedom of movement. Fisher and ap Owen struggled with the bolts that held the window shut, until Fisher lost her temper and smashed the glass with the hilt of her sword. Ap Owen threw the window open and stepped back to let the archers take up their position. Bitter cold streamed in from outside, and the archers narrowed their eyes against the glare of the snow. The attacking force realized the grounds were no longer hidden behind the illusion spell, and ran towards the house, howling a dissonant mixture of war cries and chants. Sunlight flashed on swords and axes and morningstars. Fisher couldn't even guess how many attackers there were anymore. The archers drew back and released their bowstrings in a single fluid movement, and four of the attackers were thrown backwards with arrows jutting from their bodies. Their blood was vividly red on the snow. The archers let fly again and again, punching holes in the attacking force, but they just kept coming, ignoring their dead and wounded.
"They're professionals, all right," said ap Owen calmly. "Mercenaries. Could be working for any number of people. Whoever it is must want us shut down really badly. An army that size doesn't come cheap. I didn't think there were that many mercenaries for hire left in Haven."
"How long before reinforcements can get here?" said Fisher tightly.
"There aren't going to be any," said ap Owen. "We're on our own. Low profile, remember? Officially, no one knows we're here."
"And we're expendable," said Fisher.
"Right. We either win this one ourselves, or we don't win it at all. What's the matter, don't you like a challenge?"
Fisher growled something under her breath. The first handful of mercenaries to reach the window ducked under the flight of arrows and clambered up onto the windowsill. The archers threw aside their bows and grabbed for their swords. Fisher thought briefly of the door behind her. She didn't believe in suicide missions. On the other hand, she didn't believe in running, either. She moved quickly forward to join ap Owen and the archers, and together they threw the first mercenaries back in a flurry of blood and gore. More of the attackers crowded in to take their place. The war cries and chants were almost deafening at close range. Fisher glanced at ap Owen, saw him palm a pill from a small bottle, and swallow it. He caught her gaze and smiled.
"Just a little something, to give me an edge. Want one?"
"No thanks. I was born with an edge."
"Suit yourself. Here they come again." He breathed deeply as the drug hit him, and smiled widely at the mercenaries. "Come and get it, you lousy bastards! Come one, come all!"
The main bulk of the attack force hit the window like a breaking wave, and forced the archers back by sheer force of numbers. Fisher was swept aside, fighting desperately against a forest of waving blades. In moments the room was full of mercenaries, most of whom ran past the small knot of beleaguered defenders and on into the house. Fisher and ap Owen ended up fighting back to back, carving bloody gaps in the shifting press of bodies. The archers fell one by one, and Fisher and ap Owen were slowly driven back across the room, away from the window, as more mercenaries poured in. There seemed no end to them.
Ap Owen laughed happily and mocked his opponents as he fought, and none of the mercenaries could get anywhere near him in his euphoric state. Fisher fought doggedly on. Mercenaries fell dead and dying around her, their blood staining the expensive carpet. Her footing became uncertain as bodies cluttered the floor, and it was getting harder to find room to swing her sword. She yelled at ap Owen to get his attention.
"We've got to get out of here, while we still can!"
"Right!" yelled ap Owen, grinning widely as he slit a mercenary's throat. "Follow me!"
They made a break for the door, ploughing through the startled mercenaries, and cutting down anyone who got in their way. They burst out into the hall, and Fisher was surprised to find it deserted. Ap Owen headed for the stairs, with Fisher close behind.
"They don't know where the Talks are really being held, so they're wasting time searching the house," said ap Owen breathlessly, as he took the steps two at a time. "But I know where there's an emergency entrance into the pocket dimension. We can hide out in there till the fighting's over."
"What about your people?" protested Fisher angrily. "You can't just abandon them!"
"They know where the entrance is, too. If they've got any sense, most of them are probably already there."
Fisher heard boots hammering on the stairs behind her, and threw herself forward. The mercenary's sword swept past her head, the wind of its passing tugging at her hair. Fisher kicked backwards, and the swordsman's breath caught in his throat as the heel of her boot thudded solidly into his groin. Fisher turned around to finish him off, and found herself facing a dozen more mercenaries charging up the stairs towards her. She put a hand on the groaning swordsman's face and pushed him sharply backwards. He fell back down the stairs and crashed into his fellows, bringing them all to an abrupt halt. Fisher smiled angelically at the chaos, and turned her back on them. Ap Owen was nowhere to be seen.
She swore harshly, and hurried up the stairs to the landing. She paused at the top of the stairs to get her bearings, and an axe buried itself in the wall beside her. She ran along the hallway, glaring about her. Ap Owen couldn't have gone far. If he had, she was in trouble. He'd never got around to telling her where the doorway
to the pocket dimension was. Sounds of hot pursuit grew louder behind her, and from all around came shouts and curses and war cries as the invaders spilled through the house, searching for the Peace Talks.
A mercenary burst out of a door just ahead of her, and Fisher ran him through while he was still gaping at her. She jerked the sword free and then had to back quickly away as two more men charged out of the room at her.
She put her back against the railing that ran the length of the hall and swung her sword in wide arcs to keep them at bay. Two-to-one odds didn't normally bother her, but this time she was facing two hardened professionals in very cramped surroundings, with nowhere to retreat and no one to guard her blind sides. It was at times like this that she realized how much she missed Hawk. She cut viciously at one mercenary's face, and he stepped back instinctively. Fisher darted for the gap that opened up, but the other swordsman was already there, forcing her back with a flurry of blows. Fisher fought on, but she could feel her chances of getting out alive slipping away like sand between her fingers.
And then one of the mercenaries went down in a flurry of blood, and ap Owen was standing over him, flashing his lunatic grin. Fisher quickly finished off the other mercenary, and the two Guards sprinted down the hallway, with more mercenaries in hot pursuit.
"Where the hell have you been?" demanded Fisher. "I turned my back on you for a moment and you were gone!"
"Sorry," said ap Owen breezily. "I didn't notice you weren't still with me. Now save your breath for running. We've got a way to go yet, and those bastards behind us are getting closer."
A mercenary appeared out of nowhere before them and ap Owen cut him down with a single slash. Fisher hurdled the writhing body without slowing, and followed ap Owen up a winding stairway. Footsteps hammered on the steps behind her, and she glanced back over her shoulder to see half a dozen mercenaries charging up the stairs after her. Fisher looked away and forced herself to run faster. She was already bone-tired after the long day, and her legs felt like lead, but somehow she forced out a little extra speed. Ap Owen, of course, was running well and strongly, buoyed up by his battle drug. Sweat ran down Fisher's face, stinging her eyes, and her sides ached as her lungs protested. She just hoped she wouldn't get a stitch. That would make it a perfect bloody day.
Ap Owen led her down a wide corridor at a pace she was hard pressed to match, but somehow she kept up with him. The growing crowd of mercenaries snapping at her heels helped. It worried her that she hadn't seen any of ap Owen's men. Surely some of them should have got this far… A growing suspicion took root in her that they were all dead. That all the house's defenders were dead, apart from her and ap Owen. Which made it all the more urgent they reach the pocket dimension and warn the delegates.
Ap Owen darted suddenly sideways through an open doorway, and Fisher threw herself in after him. She whirled to slam the door shut, but three mercenaries forced their way in. Fisher cut down one with a single, economical stroke, and his blood flew on the air, but another swordsman darted in under her reach and cut at her leg. Her thick leather boot took most of the impact, but she could still feel blood trickling down her leg inside the boot. She drove the man back with a frenzied attack, and for a moment held off both opponents by the sheer fury of her attack.
And then ap Owen was with her, cutting and hacking like a madman, and between them they finished off the mercenaries, slammed the door shut, and bolted it. It rattled angrily in its frame as men on the other side put their shoulders to it.
The two Guards stood exhausted over the bodies for a moment, breathing harshly, and then ap Owen jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "Let's go. The doorway's here."
Fisher looked behind her, and saw an open door hanging unsupported in the air. Beyond the door there was only darkness. "About time. I just hope the pocket dimension turns out to be a damn sight more secure than this house."
"It is; I guarantee it. Now let's move it, please."
He grabbed her arm and hauled her through the doorway. The door slammed shut behind them, and disappeared from the room. There was a brief sensation of falling, and then Fisher was in the Peace Talks' hidden room. The delegates rose startled from their seats around a long table, staring at her and ap Owen. She quickly put up a hand to forestall their questions.
"The house is overrun with mercenaries. We had to cut and run. No choice. How many more of our people made it here?" She took in their blank faces, and looked away. "Damn. Then I think it's fair to assume they won't be coming. We're the only survivors."
She looked quickly round the sparsely furnished, medium-sized room, and then blinked as she found there was no sign of the doorway. All four walls were blank. She shrugged, and looked at ap Owen, who was sitting on the floor beside her with his head hanging down. He was deathly pale, with sweat streaming off his face, and obviously using all his willpower to keep from vomiting. Fisher smiled sourly. That was battle drugs for you. Great as long as adrenalin kept you going, but once you stopped there was hell to pay. She manhandled him onto a chair, and then turned back to the delegates. They were obviously waiting for a more detailed report, and it was clear from their faces that their patience had just about run out. Really, the report should come from ap Owen, as the senior Captain in charge of security, but since he was out of it and likely to stay that way for some time… Fisher realized she was still holding her sword, and sheathed it. She drew herself up to parade rest, thought briefly about saluting the delegates, and then decided the hell with it.
"We're in trouble," she said bluntly. "Someone hired a small army of mercenaries, backed them up with some heavy-duty sorcery, and sent them here looking for you. Our security forces didn't stand a chance; the mercenaries rolled right over us. Unless some more of our people arrive in the next few minutes, you'd better get used to the idea that your entire security force now consists of ap Owen and me. And there aren't going to be any reinforcements. We're trapped in here, and the house is crawling with mercenaries."
"It's not quite as bad as you make it sound, Captain," said Lord Regis calmly. "Firstly, we are quite safe here. The dimensional doorways won't open to the mercenaries, and the only other way in is to open a new doorway. Even a high-level sorcerer couldn't do that without first knowing the exact coordinates of this dimension, and those are, of course, only known to a select few. All we have to do is sit tight and wait for the mercenaries to leave. They won't hang around once they realize we're not in the house; an attack like this is bound to have been noticed, especially in Low Tory. I think we can be fairly confident that the Guard is on its way here even as we speak."
"Wait a minute," said Fisher. "How will we know when it's safe to leave?"
Lord Regis shrugged. "We'll just stick our heads out from time to time, and see what's happening."
Ap Owen chuckled harshly. "He means you and I will stick our heads out, Fisher. They're not going to take any risks. Right, my lord?"
"Of course," said Lord Regis. "That is what you're here for, isn't it?"
Fisher looked at ap Owen. His face was still pale, but he was sitting up straight and he looked a lot more composed. "How are you feeling?"
"Great. The side effects don't last long."
"Long enough to get you killed, if they hit you at the wrong moment."
Ap Owen shrugged.
"You're all missing the point," said Major de Tournay.
"How did the mercenaries know to look for us here? Our location was supposed to be secret."
"He has a point," said Lord Regis, looking heavily at ap Owen.
The senior Captain nodded unhappily. "Somebody must have talked. Someone always talks, eventually. But since they couldn't know about this dimension, it doesn't really matter. The mercenaries will just ransack the house, find no trace of the Talks, and report back to their masters that you weren't here. They'll be called off, and you can resume the Talks undisturbed, secure in the knowledge they won't be back again. And if the Guard reacts fast enough, they might even be able to follow
the mercenaries back to their masters, and we can round them all up in one go."
"Excellent!" said Lord Nightingale. "This might turn out to have been all for the best, after all."
"Hold it just a minute," said Fisher, and there was a harshness in her voice that drew all eyes to her. "A lot of good men died out there, trying to protect you and your precious Talks. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"
The two merchants, Rook and Gardener, had the grace to look a little embarrassed. The two Majors stirred uncomfortably, but said nothing. Lord Regis looked thoughtfully at the floor. Lord Nightingale sniffed.
"They were just doing their job," he said flatly. "They understood they were expendable. As are we all."
"I'm sure that'll be a great comfort to their widows," said Fisher. "Those men never stood a chance, thanks to your insistence on low profile security."
"That's enough, Captain!" said Lord Regis sharply. "It's not your place to criticize your superiors. We have to consider the bigger picture."
Fisher gave him a hard look, and then turned away. Ap Owen relaxed slightly, and felt his heart start beating again. He didn't think Fisher would actually punch out a lord, but you could never tell with Fisher.
"His lordship is right, Fisher," he said carefully. "The safety of the delegates must come first. That's what they told us when we took on this job, remember? Now take it easy. We're all perfectly safe in here; nothing can reach us."
He broke off suddenly, as far away in the distance a bell tolled mournfully. The sound seemed to echo on and on.
faint but distinct, as though it had traveled impossible distances to reach them. They all stood silently, listening. The bell tolled again and again, growing slowly louder and more mournful, like the bell from a forgotten church deep in the gulfs of hell. Fisher's breathing quickened, and her hand fell to her sword. Something was out there in the dark, she could feel it; something awful. The pealing of the bell grew louder still, painfully loud, until everyone in the hidden room had their hands pressed to their ears. And then the air split open above them, and nightmares spewed out into the waking world.