A few ballistae had been cobbled together by Arcanum artificers and raised on stone platforms, taking aim at the approaching daemons and hideous fleshcrafted monsters now crashing through outlying villages and warehouses on the northernmost outskirts of city-sprawl beyond the walls. The enemy forces were a black stain flowing towards Setharis, one that drank up all hope and exuded despair.
“We face so many with so few,” Eva paced at my side, dressed in what was salvageable of her dented battle-plate, helm on and visor up over her mask. I tried to pick up her war hammer, and failed, so she held it to her back with one hand so I could lash it in place.
“We only have to kill one enemy here today,” I replied, fumbling the leather cords into tight knots. “If we are successful then his army will disintegrate and the daemons will flee or turn on each other.”
“Let us pray we arrive in time,” she said, looking up at the gulls screeching and flapping above us, ever hopeful of a cargo of fresh fish being unloaded.
My mind reached across the sea to Cillian and found her burning bright atop the outer wall. At first I felt her terror, and then her relief on realising that it was me and not the enemy. She already knew what kind of magus was coming for them.
Hurry, Edrin. Already their power saps our will to fight. The defenders are untrained, with only a handful of magi and wardens to lead them. If the enemy are able to compel us to open the gates then all will be lost.
I pulsed reassuring feelings of my proximity. Here we live or here we die, but we will do it together.
How many are you? she asked, images of an armed fleet with seven magi in her mind.
Fuck. I eyed Bryden’s mad, burning eyes. Only Eva and I. Everybody else is dead, or will be soon.
She covered her despair well and rallied. With you we now stand a better chance. She was not hopeful. If what Abrax-Masud said was the truth then he was the oldest elder magus in existence, a god in power and knowledge. And worse, he was a tyrant enslaved by the Scarrabus. I was Setharis’ only defence against his type of magic but he was far more powerful than me.
I took a deep breath to steady my nerves, and stroked Dissever’s hilt, allowing my dread weapon’s bloodlust to seep into me and bolster my confidence. I was afraid. I knew exactly what to expect now. Every bone in my body shouted for me to flee as soon as we hit land. But that was the old me raising its ugly head. On this day Eva stood to my right, the most stubborn magus I ever met, and the memories of Lynas and Charra stood on my left, the bravest and most wonderful fools of friends I had ever met, or ever would. I was doing the right thing for once. I would do them proud or die trying. Their daughter Layla was behind those city walls, a piece of both my best friends, and I would not let anything lay a stinking claw on her if any drop of blood or magic remained in this broken body.
The sinuous towers of the gods were dark against the cloud. They coughed and spluttered and spat magic as the immortal guardians of the city fought to return. Even this far from the city I could feel them frantically straining against their chains, becoming desperate. It felt like the fabric of the world was being stretched taught around us, and yet not quite ready to burst. They were not going to be in time. It was up to the city’s mortal wardens to stop the Scarrabus queen from freeing the dread prisoner from its tomb deep beneath the city. Our gods would be late, but I was uncharacteristically right on time, sober, and spoiling for a fight.
I slung my pack over my shoulder, containing my letters and the wooden box with our remaining wards.
Eva gave my hand a reassuring squeeze before letting go. Some of my terror subsided. Behind the steel mask her eye creased in a smile. Together we had faced the Magash Mora and killed that mountainous beast of stolen flesh and blood sorcery. Nothing we faced here could possibly be as nightmare-inducing as that.
“Thank you,” I said quietly, my words almost carried away by sea spray and Bryden’s howling wind.
She nodded. “No, I mean, thank you for everything. For saving my life time and again, and for… for being good company.”
She snorted. “You have done the same for me. Don’t go getting all weepy on me now, big man.”
“Hah! No, it’s just that I may never get a chance to say it again.” She clutched the prow as the keel scraped hidden debris beneath us. We were close to land now and the bay was filled with charred wreckage of ships torched during the beginning of Black Autumn.
The ship collided with something heavy, forcing me to grab her hand to keep my feet. “Maybe it doesn’t need to be said,” I added. “But sometimes I like to.”
This time she did not let go of my hand as the ship drew into Westford Docks. We picked up speed and the sailors started to look worried – we had not, after all, told them we would not be slowing down. Eva and I readied ourselves for the impact. She locked her visor in place, then let me jump onto her armoured back and wrap my arms around her gorget and the hilt of her war hammer. We nodded gravely to the brave sailors steering us directly into death. Bryden was finally succumbing to the torrent of magic flowing through him. His skin rippled from the inside and I could see the uncontrolled exultation in his eyes. His forehead bulged and broke in a welter of pus as a third eye pushed through bone.
“You had better be victorious after this,” he said through gritted teeth. “May the gods watch over you.” He lifted a fist in final salute.
The docks grew from a misty distant line into a thick, barnacled solid stone wall with alarming speed. The sailors panicked and tried to turn the ship. Bryden threw them overboard with gusts of wind.
I tensed every muscle as Eva braced to run. The prow of the ship crunched into stone, timbers rending.
Eva leapt, carrying us up and over onto dry land as the ship crumpled and shattered behind us, accompanied by screams of tortured wood. Bryden’s magic snuffed out as the mast fell and shattered his skull. It was a quick death, and better than the pyre. He might well have saved the world with his sacrifice. I just hoped somebody would still be around at the end of this to tell his tale.
Eva landed in stride running, a heavy bruising thump that had my teeth rattling. For a moment I worried about the wards being jostled, but if they’d broken I’d already be dead.
Cobbles cracked beneath her steel-shot feet with every long, leaping step that carried us faster than any horse towards the city walls. Warehouses and workshops blurred past as I held on grimly, praying I didn’t fall.
The streets were thankfully deserted – if Eva had collided with anybody then they would have died instantly, their bones shattering against her armoured body. Thankfully it seemed they had all fled for safety behind the city walls, which grew ever higher and more intimidating as we sped closer. Not that it would help much if the enemy had more alchemic bombs like they had used on Dun Bhailiol and the Templarum Magestus.
I could feel the enemy as a mass of human fear and daemonic stench. The daemons were being driven ahead of the enslaved humans. Being this close to Setharis had to be paining the daemons already, but once inside the city walls they would soon die off, consumed by the daemon-toxic air of the city itself. Then it would be left to human slaves to carry out the will of the Scarrabus and their pet tyrant.
I would not allow that to happen. “Hurry,” I snarled.