In the chaos that is battle, the senses narrow and a warrior's attentions become focused on one thing - survival! A moment's distraction is the knife-edge which may pare a man's soul from his body. And thus, it should not be surprising that the combatants in the crypt were unaware of the events transpiring that would ultimately decide the victors of the melee.

Emrys, the wizard from the wilds of Britain, was exhausted. He had used his sorcery to gain a momentary advantage for the Golden Knight, Richard of Warwick. The effort of this had drained him, and it was all that he could do to avoid the blade of the enraged warrior attacking him.

Richard of Warwick was surrounded by a knot of men. He found himself pressed hard to parry their blows, and the noose of steel was slowly being tightened around him. A mistake that he would normally have caught in time would now leave him open for a fatal thrust. The effort to maintain perfection of defence was tiring him.

Nur - a scholar who had been inadvertently caught up in this gruesome affair - had hidden himself behind the alabaster shrine and had avoided the bloodshed going on around him. He was no threat. For now. And it was thus that Nur witnessed the mishap.

In the heat of battle, the fighters did not care what was around them. Their swords flashed in the torch-lit gloom of the crypt; steel rang against stone; blades shed blood. And one hapless fighter's sword swept a great arc through one of those torches, severing its blazing head and sending it flying to land under an ornately-embroidered tapestry. The flames from the torch licked greedily against the cloth, then crept upwards and across, feeding on the rich fuel. Nur saw this and cried out in horror and panic: "No!"

The young scholar leapt out from his hiding place and rushed towards the burning hanging. There was only one thought in his mind - to save the holy treasures in the crypt. Instinctively he grabbed the cloth and pulled hard, trying to pull it down. However, for his pains, all he managed to do was tear the fabric of the tapestry and come away with great handfuls of fire. Nur threw these down on the floor and stamped on them in an attempt to extinguish the flames. However, there was still a mass of burning cloth hanging from its fixings. The flames from this continued to lick at the timbers that supported the floor of the church above.

These timbers had lasted for centuries, and the dry air of the Holy Land had robbed them of all moisture that they had once had, leaving behind only wood and the most essential of oils. Tinder dry, these charred. Then puffs of blue flame emerged from the timbers, all along their length, as the gases ignited in the cracked wood. Once again, Nur pulled at the burning tapestry. This time it all came down. But it was too late. The fire had spread through the great beams above. It was now only a matter of time.

As the battle continued, the atmosphere of the crypt began to fill with smoke and hot particles of ash. Emrys felt his lungs protesting as they tried to suck in life-giving air. "What is ... ?" he began, but he did not get any further. With an apocalyptic groan, the first of the wooden beams gave and collapsed, and the stone flags it supported came down. The great crack of splintering masonry caused the men around the Golden Knight to start. But their amazement did not last long. More of the great flags came down, crushing those who did not move quickly enough.

Leah glared at Richard. "Fortune favours you, Golden Knight! But for how much longer?" And with that, she threw herself back into the affray. Richard met her attack and riposted, turning Leah's blade just enough to allow himself to step within her guard and deal her a long, glistening wound. One of Leah's men saw an opportunity to take his target from behind and rushed forwards, only for a collapsing beam to land in front of him, blocking his attack. Meanwhile, Leah and the Golden Knight continued their duel, oblivious to the destruction that was raining down around them.

"I think we had best be going," Emrys whispered hoarsely in Nur's ear. The Damascene scholar looked around in panic, then nodded.

"Aye," he said. "But what about the others?"

"What others?" Emrys asked. "There are only those two fighting now." And, indeed, Emrys spoke the truth. Of all the people who had entered the crypt, only Richard and Leah were still engaged in combat. The others had fled or lay dead or dying in the burning wreckage.

"And what shall we do about them?"

"Leave that up to me. But you - go!" Emrys pushed the young man hard towards the exit. Nur needed no further encouragement. He scrambled away fast as he could go. Emrys watched him, then turned towards Leah and Richard. "Only a fool fights in a burning house!" he cried.

The words cut through the fog of battle. For the first time, Richard of Warwick saw the devastation around him; he saw the ruins of the crypt; he saw the danger that threatened him. And he acted. He did not want to die. More - he did not want to die, suffocating in the fume-choked atmosphere of the crypt. He swept his sword and the flat of the blade connected with Leah's skull, downing her. She fell boneless and limp to the floor.

"Leave her!" Emrys called out from the door. "Save yourself!"

"No!" Richard called back. "There has been enough death for today!" And, with one fluid movement, he pulled Leah from the floor and slung her over his shoulder.