The ravak’s tongues licked the air in the direction of the Magash Mora as it screeched. The distant booms and crackle of Arcanum attacks reminded us of our haste. Swarms of smaller daemons wheeled through the smoke-dark sky on iridescent wings, hazy forms darting down to pluck people from the ground and drop them screaming from a great height. Lightning flashed and a dozen blackened daemons fell. If the magi could hold out a little longer those smaller daemons would die off in droves.
We looked to Shadea. “Leave or be destroyed,” she said, her power rising around her like a vast tidal wave ready to be unleashed. Everybody cringed back, instinct screaming danger!
The ravak didn’t reply, didn’t hiss, didn’t do anything at all. What was this thing that it could ignore something like Shadea? It seemed to be listening to something. We waited nervously.
Its head snapped in our direction and it came for us, arcane energies crackling around the spikes of its crown. “The Scarrabus command your death. The lords of flesh cannot be disobeyed.”
The wolf-ship raiders had lost two of their revered halrúna shaman trying to stop Shadea activating the titan – what power was this that could force them to sacrifice holy leaders more important than their tribal chiefs?
The daemon stretched out a hand and six feet of jagged black iron burst free from a sheath of flesh. I stared in shock at that vicious, barbed blade, then to Dissever. My knife was smaller but the resemblance was undeniable. An alien hunger tinged my thoughts, as if Dissever lusted to eat this ravak creature.
Shadea pressed the titan’s activation key into Eva’s arms. “It is primed and ready. Bring it to Lust and the war engine will carry out my command.”
She moved to stand between the daemon and us. “This creature is beyond you. Run.”
Some of her wardens stayed, loyal to the point of suicide. The rest of us fled as the elder magus and ravak queen unleashed their dread magics upon each other. The ground shook and air thundered.
The building to my left collapsed in on itself, angry flames roaring up beneath a cloud of black smoke shot through with sparks like dying stars. Smoke spun and writhed around us like a living thing, obscuring everything. We covered our faces in a futile attempt to keep the choking clouds from our eyes and mouths. Tears ran down my cheeks and my throat hurt worse than if I’d smoked a bucket-load of harshest tabac. The wardens were hazy shadows, but my sanctor gaolers stuck too close, giving me no chance to slip away even if I wanted to. Charra shadowed me, keeping me safe. Layla shadowed her, doing the same.
Somebody screamed. Hot blood spattered my face. Steel clanged all around. Our pyromancer staggered towards us, reddened eyes pleading as he pawed at the gaping wound in his neck in a vain attempt to stem the spurting blood. He went down and a pair of red-bearded Skallgrim burst from the smoke, vaulted his corpse and swung their axes at Martain’s head. He sidestepped, his blade licking out across a face to leave jaw and neck a gaping ruin. He turned to exchange blows with the second. It was a mistake. That first ravaged warrior was deep in the red mist of rage and didn’t even notice his mortal wound; he swung his axe at Martain’s back. I instinctively rammed Dissever into the madman’s side and cut it free. That seemed to do the trick; he dropped like a stone, almost in two halves. Martain glanced back, surprise writ all over his face, then had to focus on the warrior in front of him.
Charra fought beside me, nodding as she flicked blood off her sword, not a scratch on her. She had always been handy in a scrap. A horrendous childhood I wouldn’t wish on anybody, but it had given her that. An axeman went for her, then fell with a knife through his eye. Charra scowled at the twisted hilt of the knife, and then at her daughter who had thrown it.
“Get your sorry behind over here!” Charra yelled.
Layla was in no real danger, dancing through the enemy towards us, leaving them pawing at slit throats and spurting blood. “I knew fine well where you had sneaked off to. I’m not leaving – you need me.”
Charra grunted, knocking aside a wounded Skallgrim’s axe and running him through. “Just stay close.” It was far too late to argue and no chance of sending her to her room without any supper.
A massive, hairy beast of a man charged through the wall of smoke behind two of the siege-breakers. Tattoos and runic scars covered every visible area of skin, and the fine mail and helm marked him as a wolf-ship captain. He swung a two-handed beaked axe glowing with runes and malignant magic, once, twice. Both knights went down, heavy helms split.
He headed straight for Eva, mowing down every warden in his path with bewildering strength and inhuman speed. Gifted! She ducked, and his blow tore off her helm rather than her head.
The remaining siege-breakers charged him, driving him back, leaving Eva and ourselves to run for the titan. Steel shrieked, men screamed and magic burst all around us as we kept our heads down and ran for our lives.
Distant lightning flashed, setting my hair on end. Each flash of light silhouetted a mountain of writhing flesh against the sky. It had grown larger – no, closer. Perspective was skewed, the scale unbelievable. The Magash Mora was no longer heading for the Arcanum army. It was coming for us. We ran faster.
Soon the shadow of Lust coalesced from the smoke.
Eva skidded to a stop and held up the activation key. A rough coughing boomed somewhere high above and the air began vibrating with a high-pitched hum that set my teeth on edge. Then came a grinding squeal of metal and a whomp-whomp-whomp that steadily increased in speed until it became a deafening drone.
By Old Boney’s barren balls I was not getting any closer to that machine! Our remaining wardens had no idea what was happening. Everybody cast fearful looks up into the smog and most began backing away. A prod of pointy steel in the small of my back stopped my retreat. I glanced back to see Martain shake his head.
“Are you mad?” I screamed over the drone. “Why do you want to be near that thing?”
“Shut up,” he replied, the point of his blade pushing in to prick flesh. The other sanctors closed on me, swords at the ready, eyes on Dissever and ready to react. I didn’t have a hope of fighting three of them – even if two were young they’d still been trained to kill rogue magi – so I stayed still. There was no point in escalating an already dire situation; I had to stay calm until a chance presented itself. Charra and Layla edged closer. I shot them a warning glare but they ignored it. Charra would help me or die trying.
The point jabbing my back eased slightly. “Why did you save me earlier?” Martain said.
“This is my home. We’re on the same side,” I said, puzzled. He didn’t reply. “Aren’t we?”
A breeze sprung up, whipping the smoke away to the east. An enormous armoured knee the size of a horse and cart crashed down by Eva’s side, crushing cobbles to dust. A crust of dirt and bird crap broke loose to rain down on us. Lust’s huge and inhumanly beautiful face descended through the thinning smoke. It held a terrible macabre beauty: that haughty metal smile was the last thing thousands of people had ever seen.
A sword the size of a grown tree lanced down through the street, followed by an enormous gauntlet that lowered to ground level. Eva placed the key onto the war engine’s palm. Fingers clanked closed around it and lifted to its face. With a squeal of metal Lust’s jaw dropped and swallowed it. Green flames flickered into life inside the titan’s eyes.
A grinding thunk and screech of metal came from deep inside the great war-engine’s armoured chest. It didn’t sound right, but who knew if the damn thing would even work after all this time. The titan shuddered and ground to a halt. A dozen hollow metal snakes writhed from the titan’s open mouth and began twitching towards us. With them came a tumble of old bones and a human skull.