The Light Goes Out
Aldren stood at the top of the tower with both hands resting upon the wet parapet.
Below him, the yard lay in darkness broken by the farmhouse lamps and the last dull glow of the ruined barn. Rain gathered in the creases of his fingers. He could feel it, just as he could feel the cold pressing through his cloak, but neither seemed quite as immediate as the absence inside his head. Bruce had nearly made it.
That was what kept returning to him. The glimpse of the house, the desperate flight between the trees, the sudden return of their connection. For one brief moment, Aldren had thought the owl was coming home. Then he had felt the impact. He had sent him out there.
Beside him, Sarki watched the northern approach without speaking. Robin stood farther along the parapet, turning his head occasionally to listen beyond the steady patter of rain. Both rangers had learned that not every silence needed filling.
At last, Alfana touched Stallios on the arm. “Come on. We should rest while we can.”
The older guard nodded, then glanced towards Aldren.
“Call if you see anything.”
Aldren managed a small movement of his head. He did not trust himself to answer.
They went downstairs, leaving the three of them beneath the rain and the watchful dark.
Inside, the household was beginning to move again. Kuzma emerged from the central room, took one look at the exhausted defenders and went directly to the kitchen. Soon a kettle hung above the hearth, and she was searching through bundles of dried leaves with the purposeful impatience of someone who had decided that everyone else had done enough talking.
Darya followed her, gathering bread, cheese and whatever food could be prepared without much fuss. She set bowls upon the table, moved a discarded weapon out of the way and began making room for people to sit.
Elsewhere, Pytor and Taras helped brace the entrances. Timber scraped across the floor. Nails were driven into damaged frames, and Hadig’s table was forced more securely against the front opening. His absence made every heavy task more noticeable.
Pytor struggled with one end of a bench while Cecelia lifted the other.
“He would have moved this himself,” he said.
Cecelia adjusted her grip. “Yes.”
They carried it into position without saying anything more. Once the barricades were secure, the talk turned, reluctantly, to what his capture meant.
Hadig had been the person they could send towards a failing door. He could hold a narrow passage, carry someone who could no longer walk, or strike hard enough to break an enemy’s courage. Without him, they had fewer answers if the goblins forced their way inside again.
Xosh listened from beside the hearth, her mace resting against her leg.
“And they know we are fewer,” she said.
No one disputed it.
Eventually, Alfana and Stallios returned to the watch, and Robin persuaded Aldren to come downstairs.
“You need something hot.”
“I’m quite all right.”
“You’ve been standing in the rain.”
Aldren looked down at his soaked sleeves as though this were new information.
Sarki collected his bow.
“Come on.”
The kitchen smelled of bread, damp wool and Kuzma’s tea. Aldren accepted a cup and wrapped his fingers around it. The brew was dark, fragrant and rather more forceful than he expected. Its first mouthful made him close his eyes; the second seemed to reach places inside him that ordinary warmth had not.
Across the table, Robin straightened a little. “What is in this?”
Kuzma gave him a look that suggested he was welcome to drink it without conducting an investigation. Darya pushed food towards them. For several minutes, they ate.
The room grew warmer as more of them gathered near the hearth. Faces that had looked grey with fatigue began to recover a little colour. Even Nevyn, who had said very little since returning without Hadig, accepted a second helping.
Eek watched this improvement with interest, finished what was in his bowl and announced that he would take the tower.
“I shall keep everyone safe.”
Sarki looked up. “Keep your head down.”
“That is usually part of it.”
Eek had scarcely settled behind the parapet when he saw movement outside. Two goblins stood near the edge of the yard, dark shapes beneath the trees. He pointed. Eldritch power cracked through the rain and struck the ground well short of them.
The goblins remained where they were. Eek narrowed his eyes. He adjusted his position, raised his hand again and took rather 
more care.
The second blast caught one of them squarely. Its companion vanished into the darkness before Eek could try for another. He waited, pleased with himself. Then, deciding that the surviving goblin ought to understand the full extent of its defeat, he climbed onto the rampart and performed a vigorous series of gestures in the direction of the woods.
Most involved his hips. There was no visible response. Eek found this disappointing.
Downstairs, Robin set down his cup. “We should go after Hadig.”
The words drew everyone’s attention. Sarki leaned forwards slightly.
“We could reach their camp quietly,” Robin continued. “Find where they’ve put him. See whether there’s a way to get him out.”
Aldren looked at him. “We don’t know where the camp is.”
“Then we find it.”
“The owl was trying to do precisely that.”
Robin’s exhaustion sharpened his answer. “And flying about until those bats found him didn’t tell us much, did it?”
Aldren became very still. For a moment, even the work at the hearth seemed too loud.
Robin glanced at him, but pressed on. “I mean we need eyes on the ground. Sarki and I can get close enough to learn something useful.”
“Bruce was useful,” Aldren said quietly.
Sarki shifted in his seat. Nevyn spoke before Robin could answer.
“I’ve already sent Gwain. And I could help scout the camp.”
Robin looked towards him. “You?”
“I can do more than walk up to it.”
Sarki considered that, then nodded. “I’ll stay. Someone should remain here who can watch the approaches.”
Cecelia folded her arms. “Hadig sacrificed himself to get Nevyn back. Now you want to open the door and send Nevyn out again?”
“We cannot leave him there,” Robin replied.
“And we cannot keep losing people.”
Xosh’s expression had darkened at Hadig’s name. “I called upon Ubato to heal him. He had barely opened his eyes before he ran straight back into the fight.”
“He saved me,” Nevyn said.
“Yes,” Xosh replied. “And now we are discussing how many more people should go out to save him.”
Aldren put his cup down carefully. “We should not leave him to the goblins.”
Cecelia turned towards him. “I am not suggesting that we forget him.”
“Then we must find him.”
His voice was firmer now, carrying something beyond the shock that had held him silent in the tower.
“He is alive out there, or may be. We know what these creatures are willing to do. I cannot sit beside a fire and decide that he has already given us enough.”
No one had an easy answer.
At length, Robin reached for his bow. “We look. We stay hidden. If we cannot help him, we come back.”
Cecelia held his gaze. “Then come back.”
Taking the barricade apart was an uncomfortable business. Every removed brace felt like undoing something they had earned at considerable cost, and Pytor watched the opening widen with evident misgivings. When there was enough space, Robin slipped through. Nevyn followed.
The door closed behind them. They worked around the back of the farmhouse to conceal their departure, keeping close to the walls before crossing the yard. Within a few paces, Robin seemed almost to disappear. His movements fitted themselves into the darkness, each step placed with such care that Nevyn could scarcely hear him.
Nevyn tried to follow his example. A stick broke beneath his boot. The crack sounded appallingly loud.
Robin stopped. To his elven ears, it seemed entirely possible that the goblins at the far end of the forest had heard it, discussed it and begun putting arrows to strings.
Nevyn froze, then whispered, “Sorry.”
Robin closed his eyes briefly. They continued. This time the ranger left more space between them. Soon Nevyn had no real idea where he was. He could occasionally detect a movement that might have been Robin, but it might equally have been a branch shifting in the rain. He kept to the route they had agreed upon: through the gate, then north, searching for tracks that would lead towards the camp. Ahead lay an open field and, beyond it, the shelter of the trees. They were only a few feet from that shelter when the arrows came.
Three goblins rose from their hiding places. Nevyn heard the first missiles pass him before he understood what they were. Robin twisted aside, but one arrow caught him with a sharp, glancing strike.
“Down!”
Nevyn raised a hand. A row of dancing lights sprang into being, pale globes hanging above the wet ground. For an instant, the ambushers were plainly visible between the trunks, bows already bending for another shot. Nevyn saw them. So did Robin. Then two arrows struck the druid. He gave a short, startled gasp and folded into the grass. The lights went out.
Robin reached him in the dark. “Nevyn?”
No answer. He caught the druid beneath the arms, hauled him up and shifted his weight across his shoulders. Pain flared where the arrow had struck him, but there was no time to examine it. He ran.
Behind him, the goblins shouted. Robin crossed the field with a speed that would have astonished anyone who had not seen an elf frightened for a friend. Mud slid beneath his boots. Nevyn’s weight dragged at his shoulders, and the farmhouse seemed impossibly far away. Another volley hissed after them.
On the tower, Eek saw the movement and recognised enough of it to become alarmed. He flung out his hand. An eldritch blast tore across the field and caught one of the goblins in a burst of destructive power.
Inside the house, the sound brought everyone upright. Sarki was already moving towards the stairs. Aldren seized his staff and headed for the first-floor windows. Below them, Cecelia began pulling at the barricade.
Robin stumbled as another arrow grazed him. He recovered without falling, tightening his grip on Nevyn, and kept going. From upstairs, Aldren saw a goblin rise to shoot. He cast.
The firebolt struck in a sudden orange flare, lighting the creature and the wet brush around it. From the tower, Sarki found the illuminated target and loosed. The goblin fell.
“More!” Eek shouted.
Aldren looked beyond Robin. Shapes were moving at speed across the dark ground: goblins, a much larger figure among them, and above them the unmistakable beating wings of bats. Five. His stomach tightened.
From somewhere in the woods came the long, rising howl of wolves. Eek’s next blast vanished into the night. Aldren struck another goblin with fire, forcing the approaching creatures to scatter and duck. He could not tell whether he had brought it down, but the moment’s hesitation was welcome.
Robin was slowing. Thirty feet from the shelter of the tower, with Nevyn still limp upon him, he could feel his strength beginning to fail. Three bats broke away from the others. They swept towards him.
Xosh and Cecelia came through the opening together. Xosh raised her hand towards the shapes overhead while Cecelia hurried to Robin, lifting her shield between him and the descending wings.
“Keep moving!”
A bat veered away from the steel rim. Another passed so close that Robin felt its wings brush the air above his head. On the tower, Eek aimed towards the large figure running behind them. His spell missed its intended target but caught the two bats flying nearest it, provoking a furious burst of shrieking.
The three above Cecelia turned. They climbed towards the tower. Below, the larger figure raised its head.
“EEK, YOU MORON!”
The voice carried beautifully.
Eek peered over the parapet. “Oh.”
Hadig was running towards the house.
For a moment, Aldren could only stare. The fighter was stumbling, battered and plainly exhausted, but unquestionably alive. Behind him, the goblins were slowing while the bats continued their pursuit. Questions would have to wait.
Above Aldren, Eek cried out. Two bats struck him almost together, claws catching at his clothing as he reeled away from the parapet. Frost spread across him in a sudden sheath, pale and glittering in the dark. Then he retreated. Sarki stepped into the space he left, drawing his longsword. His first swing cut through empty air. The bats wheeled above him.
Aldren left the window and hurried towards the tower stairs, hearing claws scrape stone and the sharp impact of something striking the parapet. When he reached the top, Sarki was turning beneath a confusion of leathery wings.
Three darts of force leapt from the wizard’s hand. They struck, but the wounded bats remained in flight. One swept low towards Sarki, still crusted with the killing frost it had gathered in its attack upon Eek. Its claws reached for the ranger; its wings faltered. It hit the stone at his feet and lay still.
Below, Hadig was fighting to keep moving. A bat darted at his head. He flinched, swung a bare fist and missed. Another snapped at him from behind. Xosh called down Sacred Flame. Light flashed through the rain, but the creature twisted clear of the worst of it.
The attempt bought Cecelia enough time. She reached Hadig, caught him with one hand and drove healing warmth back into his battered body with such brisk force that he staggered.
“Walk.”
He opened his mouth.
“Now.”
A bat came at them. Cecelia smashed it aside with her weapon, then raised her shield and guided Hadig towards the entrance. Behind them, the goblins had stopped advancing. They watched from the dark, apparently content to let the bats continue the entertainment.
Robin got Nevyn into the kitchen. Darya swept bowls and cups aside as he lowered the druid onto the cleared surface. Kuzma was beside him almost at once, her hands moving with practised urgency.
Robin stood bent over the table, trying to draw enough breath to speak. “Two arrows.”
Kuzma leaned close to Nevyn’s face. Darya touched his neck. Neither woman said anything.
Robin saw the stillness of his chest. “He’s not breathing.”
Kuzma gestured sharply for room. From the tower came another shout. Robin looked towards the stairs, then back at Nevyn. Darya was already working beside the old woman.
“Go.”
He snatched up his bow.
Sarki’s sword caught a bat as it swept across the parapet. The blow sent it spinning away, but the opening cost him. The remaining creatures came in before he could bring his guard back, striking at his face and shoulders.
He staggered against the stone.
Aldren lifted his hand.
Sarki fell.
Fire burst from the wizard’s fingers and engulfed one of the diving shapes, scattering burning fragments of wing into the rain.
Eek scrambled towards the fallen ranger. For once, he had no remark ready. He knelt, reached out and whispered the words that would hold Sarki at the edge of death.
A bat swung round for another attack. Robin emerged from the stairwell. He drew, loosed and sent it crashing onto the tower floor. Then there was only rain, ragged breathing and the faint crackle of dying embers. Aldren dropped to his knees beside Sarki and searched through his belongings with shaking hands. The healing potion. He pulled the stopper free, lifted the ranger’s head and carefully poured.
Outside, as Cecelia backed towards the house, keeping her shield between Hadig and the circling bat, she became aware of faces watching from beyond the reach of the lamps. Goblins stood among the trees, nudging one another and pointing whenever the creature swooped; farther back, a few wolf riders waited with their mounts shifting restlessly beneath them. None moved to join the attack. One goblin gave a shrill cheer as the bat darted towards her, and Cecelia tightened her grip on her weapon, sickened by their enjoyment. She kept retreating, unwilling to give them another fallen defender to celebrate. The final bat circled once, searching for an opening. She kept her shield raised. It dipped towards them, reconsidered and turned away, disappearing into the night.
Hadig watched it go. Then Xosh stepped in front of him. He looked at her. For a moment, neither moved. Rain ran down her face and shone upon the bronze edges of her armour. Hadig seemed about to say something.
She slapped him.
The sound was startlingly clear. Then she turned and walked back into the house. Hadig remained where he was for half a heartbeat.
Cecelia pushed him towards the door. “Inside.”
The barricades went back up. Pytor and Taras fitted the braces while the others gathered in the kitchen. Sarki came down slowly, supported where he needed it, and Eek followed with his red hat bent and his usual confidence entirely absent. Hadig entered last.
There were questions waiting for him—how he had escaped, where he had been, what had happened in the camp—but no 
one asked them.
Nevyn lay upon the table.
The cups of tea had been pushed to one end. A piece of bread lay on the floor where it had fallen when Darya cleared the space. Kuzma stood beside the druid, and something in the set of her shoulders brought Aldren to a halt.
Robin moved closer. “Kuzma?”
The old woman looked down once more, then turned towards them.
“He’s dead.”
