A frantic half hour later, Kevlin marched in the midst of a group of half a dozen phony mercenaries, hands held behind his back as if tied. The operation felt rushed, and that made him extremely nervous.

The black-clad soldiers, led by Jerrik, checked weapons and armor as they skirted the Sentinel Tower. They rounded a long, low cedar hedge, barely visible in the darkness.

Kevlin wished he had his sword. When they sprang the trap on this Masego, he planned to lead the charge. He hated doing that without his sword.

Bright lights blazed along the nearby Port Spoke, illuminating the steady stream of partygoers returning to their homes. Distant laughter echoed through the darkness, but seemed foreign to Kevlin. Those people had no clue about the danger lurking among them while Kevlin and this tiny group prepared for battle.

Jerrik, dimly lit by the shuttered lantern he carried, still smiled. He'd convinced Harafin to assign him to the party, but Drystan hadn't been so lucky.

They'd laid their plans quickly, with heated debate. The plan called for Jerrik's small company to lead Kevlin to the rendezvous point in the catacombs. Reinforcements would move into position exactly two minutes later. They would secure the subterranean burial ground and cut off any chance of escape. If Masego had spotters watching for a trap, their warning would come too late.

Every one of the soldiers tapped for the mission was hand-picked by Jerrik or Drystan and looked similar to the captured mercenaries. Jerrik stood out as an exception, but he successfully argued that in the shadows the difference was not enough to matter.

Kevlin had argued for Drystan's inclusion, even though his lanky brother resembled none of the attackers. Kevlin would have felt more confident with both of his brothers flanking him tonight. Still, Drystan would lead the company of reinforcements, along with Harafin and Leander.

Leander had tapped a full score of his Stalwarts to assist, and one of them marched with the phony mercenary group. Harafin refused a general call to arms. The risk was too great that Masego would realize the danger and flee.

Ah'Shan had left to summon Felix, and the two would remain outside the catacombs with Gabral, ready to call up more reinforcements if needed. Ah'Shan had argued that a Sentinel should march among the phony mercenaries, but Harafin refused to allow it. Sentinels might be sensed by one of the watchers.

Gabral was furious at his support role, but he was too well known. Kevlin was mightily tempted to rub it in, but realized he didn't have to. Gabral was working himself into a rage all by himself.

The company approached a simple stone building in a small courtyard. Inside it contained only a stone stair leading down into darkness. Without hesitation, Jerrik led the company down.

The air grew chill as they descended one hundred and seven steps into the earth. Jerrik opened the lantern wider, and several soldiers lit torches. The light illuminated unbroken walls covered with simple drawings depicting the afterlife as taught by the Stalwarts of the various gods.

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Serigala welcomed home blessed children bearing yew and stone, while Asherah drew sailors down into the depths of her eternal kingdom beneath the waves. Salawin divided the just from the unjust with his great sword, while Kamen feasted with fallen warriors. En'Lil galloped the endless plains on the Fravashi spirit horses, hunting fleet-footed antelope with his Einarri children.

Kevlin averted his eyes whenever he caught glimpses of Akillik and his Wheel, and even avoided studying images of Tikir showering the faithful with riches. He couldn't afford to trust either form of Karakol right now.

He was surprised to see images of Savas feasting with his chosen ones between battles of their eternal warfare. He hadn't expected Blade Stalwarts to show a presence here, and the knowledge that they had tread these same dark steps made him shiver.

Kevlin welcomed the sight of the narrow, winding passage cut into the earth at the bottom of the stairs. Jerrik went first and his huge shoulders nearly scraped the earthen walls on either side. The low, uneven ceiling forced him to crouch to avoid cracking his helmet against protruding rocks.

The rest of the company followed single file behind him. As they passed deeper into the catacombs, Kevlin wondered about the dead buried within arm's reach on either side. Tiny plaques marked many of the graves stacked four high every ten feet along both walls. He was tempted to try reading the names and dates of those buried there.

In his travels, Kevlin had seen many comrades die and had helped bury more than he cared to remember. He had participated in burial rites of believers of all the gods, but had never thought to walk under the earth among the dead.

The thought settled heavy in his mind, and he shivered from more than the pervasive chill filling the stygian passage. They marched to meet a mysterious, deadly enemy. Before the torches burned out, some of them might take up permanent residence here in the halls of the dead.

Kevlin focused on the man in front of him. They might die tonight, but dwelling on it wouldn't help. Better to focus on the goal to send Masego to whatever god he worshipped.

They followed the twisting passages for ten minutes, and Kevlin was grateful that Harafin had insisted every member of the company memorize the route through this underground maze. The palace complex above had been laid out with exquisite care, but the catacombs showed no such planning. Passages peeled off at random intervals and intersected at odd angles. In one intersection, no less than seven passages converged.

It would be far too easy to lose one's way down here, left to wander the impenetrable darkness until they succumbed to exhaustion and joined their dead brethren. He broke into a cold sweat as an unfamiliar fear weakened his resolve. He felt the sudden urge to turn and rush the other way and not stop until he stood beneath the stars again.

Kevlin had never liked deep, closed-in places, but had never felt anything like this. He tried to breathe steady and focus on the torches held by soldiers in front of him. It helped, but only a little.

Finally, they entered a wider passage where they could walk four abreast. That helped ease his fear, even though the earthen ceiling still hung ominously low over their heads. The men of the company surrounded Kevlin and re-checked weapons and equipment.

Jerrik sent a scout ahead. The soldier slipped forward into the darkness carrying a shuttered lantern that allowed only the tiniest hint of light to seep through. The rest of the company followed a moment later. Kevlin found his pulse quickening and in his mind he practiced drawing his concealed daggers.

The scout returned a minute later. "We're almost there. I heard movement."

Jerrik grinned. "Stay tight. It's time."

Soon they reached a thick wooden door that hung open. They stepped through into a large room. It had to span at least fifty paces, but their lights failed to illuminate the far side. The soft clang of metal on metal sounded from the darkness.

Someone was waiting for them.