The remaining guards backed away, their numbers advantage gone.

“Such a shame, my son,” Thren said from the far side of the room. He pulled out a small metal object from his pocket. “You are a beauty to behold, a beauty that must be broken beneath my heel.” He blew on the metal object, which emitted a high-pitched whistle. Curtains fell from the sides of the rooms, and in came the entire Spider Guild, more than a hundred men dressed in gray cloaks and armor.

“Crush them,” Thren shouted to his minions. “Bring forth the time of the thief once more!”

“That all you got?” Harruq roared, smashing his swords together so sparks flew for several feet in all directions. “Bring ‘em on!”

“To me,” Haern shouted. Harruq obeyed, joining his teacher. The two put their backs to a corner and faced their attackers.

“Any ideas?” Harruq asked, just before the multitude hit.

“Yes. Whoever kills more marries Aurelia.”

“What?”

The first wave hit, and freely the blood flowed.

“To the other side!” Haern screamed, charging into the throng. He spun and whirled with the grace of a dancer, his sabers blurry whirls about his body, with red specks flicking in all directions. He weaved his way through ten, leaving a bloody swath in his wake. Harruq bellowed, choosing a strategy more suitable to him. He used his greater reach and swung side to side, his strength and power massacring any who attempted to block. Daggers bit into his arms and chest, and the blood of him and his foes soaked his armor. As the pain of his cuts grew deeper, he lowered his head and charged right through a group of twelve. Bodies flew, bones broke, and Condemnation and Salvation drank in the death of others.

Harruq and Haern linked up on the other side of the room, corpses strewn in their wake. Still, a great many remained, although their tactic had changed. Instead of charging forward, they pulled back. To the front came several men, each armed with throwing daggers.