The Order of Brass, with Gormath in the lead, came pouring through the portal and with them a dash of hope for the rescue party.

Kaelic drew several knives from a bandolier across his chest fanning them out like playing cards. He barely cast a glance at his targets, Ian’s friends, before he hurled them. As the blades flew the assassin melded back into the rank and file. Being an assassin, Kaelic prided himself on his uncanny talent to access and enact swift strategies for victory. In this case, killing Ian’s friends would tear the fight for hope from him and crush it. His planning always included contingencies for every possible outcome; no possibility went unexplored.

But no one can ever plan for truly selfless acts. Those moments which test a man’s character, when a man is not afforded the time to think, but only to react. It was impossible for a cold assassin like Kaelic to factor in what someone like Ian would do. Ian saw the daggers spiraling toward Ban and Roland. The two had already engaged in battle with the nearest Red Robes Ban fighting with one arm and carrying Anders in the other.

“Roland!” Ian shouted in warning while stepping into the blade’s path without thinking. He wanted to save his friends. He felt a sharp pain in his gut finding one of the throwing knives sticking out from his belly when he looked down. A red stain was rapidly spreading around the blade. His gun fell from his numb fingers as he reached down and pulled the blade out. The other dagged plinked harmlessly off Roland’s shield.

“Ian!” Ban roared, summoning the power of Void once more he slammed the hammer against the floor. A powerful shockwave rushed out strong enough to send the nearby Court members scattering like ten-pins.

Roland dashed over and managed to get an arm under Ian before he collapsed. With his free hand, he sent out a burst of blinding light before the Court members could recover from.

“Back!” Roland commanded while dragging Ian through the door.

Ban rested Anders against the wall, then returned to the doorway, using it as a choke point. Mal reappeared from the shadows and took up a position on the other side. They turned certain defeat into a stalemate but that would only hold for so long.

Roland lowered Ian down next to Anders and then collapsed beside him. Pandora rushed to Ian’s side casting a worried glance at Roland. Her face was as pale as death but she still insisted on looking at the wound.

“Let me see," She said, peeling his hand away. She reached into her pouch and crushed an herb in her palm. She pressed it against the wound until it grew warm. She fell back in a heap with blood still pumping out from Ian’s wound, but it was lessened.

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“More tired than I thought," She said, reaching over to take Ian’s hand, pressing it back over the wound, “Keep pressure on it and let the herb work.”

Roland could see that Ban and Mal were going to be overrun; they were holding the Red Robes back, but only just. The mage forced himself to his feet, took a long pull from his flask, and erected a thick orange shield in front of them buying them time to rest. The orange membrane of magic held strong but it wouldn’t last. They had all been strained to their limits and were running on empty.

“We could use an escape plan any time now!” Roland called out over his shoulder.

To make matters worse the fire he’d started in the library was now raging in the Gallery behind them. It was eating its way around the room consuming the priceless wealth to fuel its destructive need. They didn’t have much time.

Outside the doorway, the battle raged between the Court and the Order. The Order pressed hard from the portal side but their progress was far too slow.

“Tighten up that line! Move in on the right! Pull him back!” Gormath’s barking orders roared over the din. Gormath watched the Red Robes trying to break through the shielded door and quickly put the pieces together. “Tomb Guard, rally to me!” Without waiting the gold half-dragon leapt into the fray. Using his massive cavalry sword he tried to force a wedge between the fanatics and Ian’s group.

The Tomb Guard fell in around Gormath. They were the most elite troops in the rank and file of the Order of Brass. Most of them trained their entire lives for the opportunity to enter the prestigious fighting force. There were only twenty-one at any given time and, of those, only seven could be pulled from the Nyeberian Emperor’s Tomb. Gormath and the Tomb Guard steadily carved a path directly up the center toward Roland’s shield.

“They’re almost here," Roland informed the others between gritted teeth. His magical shield flickered at the edges as a droplet of blood ran from his nose. A huge fanatic reared up and smashed a mace into the barrier. Roland fell to one knee from the strain. He waved Ban off as the minotaur rose to help him and stood his ground, albeit shakily.

Gormath’s progress, and their hope, halted and faltered. Kaelic darted out from the melee and landed amongst Gormath and his elite force. The assassin slew two of the Tomb Guard before they had any time to react. Then the dead-eyed assassin engaged raging half-dragon.

Ban had been watching the battle through Roland’s shield when Mal let out a low growl of warning. The lupine was facing not the door but the flames, his head lowered and body hunched up ready to strike. Through the spreading flames, Ban made out a towering figure in blackened armor. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing but still the figure pushed through the flames towards them. Roland glanced over his shoulder and let out a curse.

“I’ll buy you what time I can,” Ban said as he stepped up next to the mage tightening his grip on Void. “Mal, guard our friends.”

He set off into the inferno to face the impossible once more.