In an instant, Braun’s face changed again to a gently smiling countenance. “Did I miss something?”
“Captain!”
It was Jerakh, the manticorian warrior in charge of the Second Octian. “Second, Fourth, and what’s left of the Eighth and Ninth Octia have formed with you here. Third and Sixth are fighting off to the right. I haven’t seen the Octian Dista.”
“Let’s move!” ChuKang shouted. “Let’s push to join with the Third and Sixth-then swing the formation to the left. We’re to make for that rotunda.”
“But our casualties. .”
“We’ll count the dead later, Jerakh,” ChuKang said. “Drakis! You have the Proxi. Let’s go bleed some dwarf!”
The battle was still raging in the plaza when the Centurai from House Timuran broke around the left flank, trampling underfoot the dwarves who had not already succumbed to the Impress Warriors’ weapons. The broken dwarven line contracted, and with shocking suddenness, Drakis found himself running at full-gait through the rotunda with Braun’s shoulder armor gripped firmly in his left hand. What remained of the Timuran Centurai ran with them as well, their ordered battle lines once again dissolved by the necessity of the moment. Everyone was having trouble keeping up with Captain ChuKang, who dashed headlong from the rotunda and bolted down the grand hallway to the right.
Nine notes of stones polished, statuesque dwarf glowers. .
Seven notes of watchful guarding doom and loss. .
Five note halls of gleaming onyx. .
Five note halls of black entombing. .
The stones were polished under their feet, and they passed the thirty-foot-tall statue of a dwarven hero. The hall they entered to their right was filled with warm light from lit torches set in iron wall sconces. Ornate carved pillars of polished stone rose nearly fifty feet overhead to support the intricately carved arched ceiling.
Drakis barely noticed it. His eyes were fixed on ChuKang as he ran down the hall toward blackness darker than any night beyond the arch at the end of the five-hundred-foot-long hall.
“Keep running, Warriors!” KriChan shouted. “Don’t stop! The end is in sight.”
Come answer the call of lamenting. .
Drakis gritted his teeth as he ran.
Come answer the sky that fell. .
His feet fell into the cadence of the song.
Forgive the lament. . Forgive promise torn. .
“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” Drakis muttered under his breath, but the song kept revolving in his mind with every measured footfall on the stones passing beneath his feet. The great black void filling the open end of the colossal hall slid toward him, and still he ran, following ChuKang and holding fast to Braun because that was what he was told to do and the music in his mind overwhelmed all other thought.
ChuKang passed the arch at the end of the long hallway and abruptly stopped. The rest of the Centurai followed his lead, raising their weapons in caution as they approached the darkness.
“By the gods,” ChuKang said in awe as he stood looking out into the void. He called over his shoulder. “Timuran Centurai, set up a defense. Octia Two, Three, and Four protect the hall. Octian Eight to my right and Octian Nine to my left. Octian One to me! Drakis! Bring me that Proxi!”