CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND NINETY – TROUBLE AT THE MANSE

Ahead, the sounds of combat faded momentarily, only to be replaced by the crack of rifle fire scorching the air uncomfortably close by. She risked a glance over her shoulder to see several of the black-clad Sanctus troops closing in, their predatory strides devouring the distance between them with ruthless efficiency. "Keep going! Don't let them flank us!" Alistair's shout split the night, the druid appearing from a narrow gulley with his robes hiked up and an archaic bone-staff clutched in one gnarled fist. Tendrils of eldritch energy sizzled along its length as he swept it through the air, discharging a rippling burst of force that sent their pursuers tumbling head-over-heels like broken ragdolls. "This way, quickly!" he urged, beckoning her to follow before breaking into a surprisingly sprightly lope for one of his advanced years. Karina didn't need to be told twice. She ran, following the meandering path he blazed towards what she desperately hoped would be the rendezvous with