"Chryseis—"
Imazu leaned on his ax, panting.
"She launched her erinye at me. I ducked into a room and slammed the door in its face, then came here through another entrance."
Chryseis was loose—"We've got to get clear," said Corun. "The devil-powder is going to go off any time now."
The Xanthi were rallying. They came at the humans in another rush. Corun and Imazu and their best men filled the corridor with a haze of steel, backing down toward the outer portal.
It was a crazy blur of struggle, hewing at faces that wavered out of night, slapping down thrusts and reaching for the life of the enemy. Men fell, and others took their places in the line. Down the corridor they retreated, fighting to get free, and they left a trail of dead.
The end of the passage loomed ahead. And the monstrous iron door was swinging shut.
Chryseis stood in the entrance. A wild storm-wind outside sent her cloak flapping about her, red wings beating in the lightning-shot darkness about the devil's rage of the goddess face.
"Stay here!" she screamed. "Stay here and be cut down, you triple traitor!"
The nearest Umlotuan sprang at her. The door clashed shut in his face—they heard the great bolt slam down outside. They were boxed in the end of the hall, and the Xanthi need only shoot them down with arrows.