As everyone examined themselves, checking armor, wiping blades, and tending to light wounds, some of the Guardsmen moved among the fallen, delivering finishing strikes to bats that still twitched with stubborn life. The hiss of breath through clenched teeth, the soft groan of wounded men, and the crackle of torchlight filled the cavern.
Then it came again. The sound of wings.
The beating air was like distant thunder rolling through the tunnels, and it was no longer distant. Heads turned sharply toward the echo. Tension shot through the company like lightning through a field of blades.
Hound, who had been squatting before a Guardsman, inspecting a long gash along his arm, froze. His crimson eyes narrowed. He sniffed once, then sprang to his feet like a coiled spring loosed.
In a heartbeat, he was moving.
