His muscles burned with fatigue, every swing of his daggers feeling more weighted than the last. It reminded him yet again of Ostagar, a protracted fight against an implacable foe of immeasurable number. No matter how many he cut down they kept coming. In his mind's eye he saw Cailan go down again, a moment of distraction that nearly got him bitten.

Elissa's whistle could not have been more opportune or welcome. He shoved his way through two trying to close on him from the front and ran again, faster now. He wanted some of them following, not all. He picked up speed before reaching the edge of the trap, sheathing his daggers and gathering himself to hurtle through the air across it in a tremendous leap.

He hit the ground in a roll, coming back up to his feet and all but slamming into the wall before him. His breathing was ragged and harsh. "Inside," he gasped, wasting no time in reaching for the door to yank it open.