Martain spoke, cold and hard, “As Krandus feared, the titan’s source of power has been depleted. It requires another sacrifice.”
Damn.
The flat of Martain’s sword slammed into my wrist and Dissever slipped from numbed fingers. I cursed, ducking out of the way as a second blow whooshed past my head. A sick dread filled me. Blood sorcery hadn’t been considered anathema until after the fall of ancient Escharr – the titans were powered by the sacrifice of a magus. It was grossly akin to the monster already ravaging Setharis and I refused to die like that.
“I don’t know why I’m surprised,” I said. This was what the Archmagus had been instructing him to do earlier during their little private chat. A glare and terse shake of my head stopped Layla from burying her blade in Martain’s neck, for the moment. Whatever happened, I refused to let her or Charra die here. “The Arcanum have always wanted me dead.” I spat on his boots and flexed my numb hand. “You want me? Come take me. I’ll tear your fucking throats out with my teeth.”
Martain growled and menaced me with his sword. “Herd him towards the titan.” Eva did nothing to help or hinder us, torn between obeying orders and committing an atrocity. The remaining wardens gathered around the young male sanctor, hands reaching for me.
And then everything took a turn for the worst. Across the street and out of the sanctor’s range, Harailt stepped from the smoke. White-hot flame roared from his palms to engulf the young male sanctor and the wardens. They shrieked, turned into human candles. The sanctor’s twin screamed and dropped to her knees.
Shock burst across on Eva’s face. “Harailt? What are you–”
“I am so sorry, Evangeline,” he said. “I had hoped you might join this new and glorious Arcanum I am building, but you would only refuse.” I screamed a warning as Harailt’s expression twisted, flickering between contempt, ecstasy and rage far too quickly to be natural. Something was very wrong inside him.
Betrayal was carved into her expression in the moment he flung his hands out towards her. Fire blasted her into the air, armour glowing cherry-red and starting to melt. Her flesh sizzled as she screamed through the twisting smoke into the ruins of a house. Nobody could survive that.
Harailt’s expression dissolved into utter horror. “Evangeline, no… I did not mean–”
His expression hardened into an emotionless mask and he turned to face the five of us remaining: Charra, Layla and myself, Martain and the shaking girl sanctor. Martain grabbed her by the armpits and began dragging her away from me, to allow the use of my Gift.
I scanned the ground. Dissever was near my foot. If I could reach it then I could buy time for Charra and Layla to escape. I would die in agony, but there was a small chance I could take him with me. A fair exchange by any account.
A purple flash. A white line burned across my sight.
Harailt glanced at the gaping hole in his chest where his heart had been. “Ah.” He didn’t fall.
Shadea hobbled from the smog, one arm torn and limp and a missing foot replaced with a crutch made from a dead warden’s sword. Her face was split, a red trench running through an empty eye socket. The other boiled over with virulent purple energy.
My jaw dropped as the hole in his chest writhed with reforming flesh. “Shadea,” he spat. “You survived our little pet then. Perhaps nex–”
Light stabbed out from her eye, burning holes through his chest and neck.
“–t time we will find somethi–”
A sphere of blue fire coalesced around Harailt, so hot it drove us all back, the stone melting and sparking around him.
The flames burst apart. Harailt casually dusted off charred ends of clothing. “–ng more worthy of facing you.”
“There is a god inside him,” Shadea hissed. “Harailt is gone.”
His face twitched into a sneer. “Not at all, elder. I am very much alive and in control. We three great powers, magus, god and Scarrabus, work hand-in-hand for our great cause.” He waved to the looming bulk of the Magash Mora coming towards us. “You cannot kill us and you cannot stop the coming glory of the reborn Arcanum. Join us, elder, and we will rule this world entire, as we should, devoid of all restriction and petty politicking. Think of what you can learn from us.” He glanced at me. “Him, we must kill.”
She smiled, a horrific sight even when she was whole. “You are deluded.” She flicked a finger towards him and Harailt was yanked into the air, screaming as he disappeared into the distance. Somewhere across the city a building collapsed from the impact.
Martain looked to the titan awaiting its sacrifice, then to me, and finally to Shadea, a question on his lips.
“No,” she snapped, spraying flecks of blood.
A carpet of flesh now flowed through the streets nearby, gnashing canine mouths and wailing human cries, grasping fingers and horse hooves all crawling towards us, the nightmarish main body of the creature looming dark and terrible behind it.
“Speed is now the essence of victory,” she said, hobbling towards the titan. “As I think young Edrin here might say, I am no longer a dog in this fight. We fight where and however we must.” She let the metal snakes swarm her, hollow heads burying in her withered flesh and lifting her off the ground towards Lust’s mouth.
She gasped in pain. “Fight in my stead, tyrant. Share my wrath. Kill that traitor.” Her eyes flashed with furious hope, “Destroy that traitor god.”
I gave her a single nod as they drew her back into the depths of the titan. Harailt was exposed and the collusion of a god confirmed. It had to be this newly ascended Hooded God who had protected those shard beasts and shadow cats from Setharis’ corrosive influence. Had the god’s newfound power driven him mad?
Nathair, Thief of Life, where are you when I need you, eh? He stood for freedom and independence, everything that Harailt despised. I’d half expected him to rise from the earth and rip the life from our enemies. What use were gods if they didn’t protect their people? Bloody gods, leaving me to clean up their messes again.
Again? My mind shuddered.
Beneath my trembling hands, Artha’s skin is hot as a furnace.
The god’s face twists in agony, “Cut deep and cut now.”
An eerie song shivers through me and I press down, Dissever cracking bone and plunging into his heart…
I scrambled for the knife and clutched the foul weapon to my chest, letting its flood of hunger drown the memory. I killed a god – was this why the Hooded God wanted me dead? Because I was a threat to his insane ambitions? I had killed Artha and that meant there had to be a way to kill the Hooded God too.
Martain was dazed and despairing. He no longer cared to fight me and didn’t think to try to shut down my Gift again. We collapsed beside the foot of the great war-engine, waiting in silent dread to see what manner of horror would be unleashed.
Chapter 30
It was all very anticlimactic. Minutes dragged by with no sign of life from the titan. We waited in tense silence for a while, then looked at each other and shrugged.
“What now?” Martain said. He put an arm round the young sanctor’s shoulders, “I am so sorry Breda.” Her shoulders shook with great heaving sobs.
I swallowed. “Guess it’s up to us.”
“Oh, dear gods,” he said. “We are all doomed.” It was a sentiment I wholeheartedly echoed. Then he cleared his throat, staring at his feet. “It did not sit well with me.”