As he fell backwards, one of the Jester acolytes breached the fire and flew past him towards the creature. Bone rang on steel as the acolyte parried with greater finesse than Doranei had shown, but in the next instant he heard the wet slap of flesh being cut open. All his senses were screaming out in panic, but Doranei forced himself upright and away from where he'd landed, just as Mikiss cleared the flames, closely followed by Sebe and another acolyte. The vampire had a savage look of glee on his face, and both axes held out wide. With a swift blow he severed an arm reaching out towards him.
Doranei cried out in alarm as an enormous lioness flashed past him, only realising when it tore a great chunk of flesh from the creature that it was Haipar, rather than some new enemy. As the shapeshifter darted back out of range, Doranei slashed at the creature again, then flung himself to one side as a trident nearly impaled him. Sebe hacked at the shaft to try to break it, but was rewarded only with clang of metal as a feathered wing swept him off his feet.
Doranei jumped forward to defend his friend, fighting with reckless desperation, hitting out at the only part of the creature that was in reach. He was rewarded with a screech of pain, but the wound didn't slow it a fraction; he turned in time to catch a taloned limb just before it eviscerated him, turned again and hacked wildly up behind him to save Sebe from the stabbing trident.
The impact knocked the sword from Doranei's hand, but the moment of distraction proved enough. Through the flurry of feathered limbs, Doranei saw Mikiss attacking the creature from the other side, just before Legana jumped smoothly into the arena, throwing one of her swords straight at the body of the creature. As it struck home, the beast reared back, and Legana pressed forward fearlessly, slashing with all her strength into the creature's body. Mikiss joined her and Haipar buried her huge canines into one reaching arm, using her weight to pin the limb down and create an opening for the vampire. Doranei felt the splatter of gore on his face.
At last they stopped, each one of them gasping for breath and the massive lioness shaking ichor from her muzzle. In the next moment the raging streams of magic swirling and dancing all around them winked out of existence. They blinked at each other, half-blind in the sudden darkness. Doranei began to cough, but felt down for Sebe's arm to help him up. They stood for a moment, supporting themselves on each other as the glare slowly faded from their eyes.
'Congratulations, children,' came Zhia's voice from the darkness. 'You've killed your first God.'
They looked up blearily, searching in vain for the vampire until she used her Skull to cast a pale light. Doranei looked at his fellow victors. Legana looked unruffled, almost pristine, barely breathing hard, while Mikiss beamed with pleasure at the corpse at his feet. In the blink of an eye Haipar appeared as her more usual self, fully dressed, with a blade on her hip. She glared at Doranei when she saw him staring and he quickly turned away.
'God?' gasped Sebe, 'that was a GodV
Even dead and motionless at last, the creature was so unnatural, so bizarre, that it took him a while to identify the beak and face within the mess of feathers and angular limbs. It looked like nothing he'd ever seen, not even on a temple wall. In the weak light what he could make out of the mess looked daemonic more than divine.
'Erwillen the High Hunter. His Aspect-Guide,' Legana answered. 'The novice, what was his name? Mayel, yes, he told us about that. I should have realised it would have incarnated, given so great a source of magic'
'We've just killed a God?' Sebe moaned as Doranei retrieved his sword, trying not to look at the sticky mess coating the blade.
An insane one, if that make it any better,' Zhia said soothingly, looking around for any further dangers. Her strange sword was drip¬ping blood onto the remains of the minor God: rich, red blood that certainly was not ichor. 'The High Hunter was as crazed as the abbot.' She gave him a wolfish grin. 'Don't worry; the first one is always the hardest.'
Doranei ignored that last statement. 'You killed the abbot.' It wasn't a question; the evidence was dripping onto her toes.
'Oh yes, I know a few little tricks, and once he realised I had a Skull too he simply raised his shields against me.' She shook as much of the blood off her sword as possible. 'He forgot that shields to stop magic cannot stop steel, and his reactions were as slow as one might expect of an elderly monk.'
'It was really that easy?' Doranei asked in disbelief.
'Not entirely,' Zhia admitted, 'but it was always going to be very quick, or slow and completely awful for everyone within half a mile.' She gave a cold laugh. 'And, of course, he wasn't my first.'
The conversation ended as they saw one of the acolytes still on the ground, a huge gash pouring blood just below his ribs. Mikiss stood a yard away from the injured man, his attention alternating between a bloodied tear in his sleeve and the widening pool on the ground, as though he couldn't decide which fascinated him the most. Another acolyte, almost identical in both dress and build, was kneeling at the injured man's side. He had drawn a long dagger and for a moment Doranei wasn't sure if it was to threaten Mikiss.
Then the kneeling man put the dagger at his friend's throat, wrapped his hands around his friend's and drove forwards. He watched as the legs spasmed once, then went still, waited a moment longer, then let go of the dagger, still buried in his friend's neck, and slid the mask up over the pale cropped stubble of his head, revealing a young face, still ill with puppy-fat cheeks, and a flattened nose that looked like it bad been more than just badly broken. The tribesmen from the Waste didn't resemble any of the original seven tribes; the dead acolyte's skin was grey, as though dusted with ash. Doranei thought this no tribal custom, but a sign of how the Waste changed its inhabitants. They had been luckier than many; Doranei had spent a little time in the Waste, long enough to know that humans didn't survive there unchanged. It was for good reason that there were no cities on tbose verdant plains where once the ancient Elves had built their civilisation.
'Zhia,' he said suddenly, dragging bis eyes away from the dead. The vampire was crouched down in from of the dead Aspect oi Vellern;
she turned her head and gave him a quizzical look. 'Can you sense the minstrel? He must be here somewhere.'
'Why are you so certain?' She finished cleaning her sword on what looked like a wing and sheathed it, then stood up.
'Because he will not-' Doranei stopped dead. 'Where's the Skull?'
She nodded towards what was left of a cellar entrance. 'Down there, with the abbot.'
'You didn't bring it with you?'
Zhia scowled. 'I told you, I do not care for it, and frankly, I'm dis¬appointed in your king for wanting it so badly. Aryn Bwr gave it to his son because he knew Velere lacked the strength and majesty to rule after the war. It is a gift for the weak.'
'And what if it falls into the hands of the powerful?' Doranei asked angrily. The kneeling acolyte jerked his head at his tone, but Doranei ignored him.
'I hadn't thought you such a fool,' Zhia snapped in return. 'Your friend Rojak has orchestrated all this destruction, and still you don't see?' She swept her arm out wide to take in the ruins of the city in the distance.
'You think he's lured us here?' Doranei almost shouted his reply as he felt the smoulder of frustration and anger inside him suddenly ignite. 'Do you honestly think he would sacrifice the Skull of Ruling and hand it to his greatest enemy before an ambush?'
'I think we have all been blundering in the dark,' Zhia spat, shoot¬ing a warning look at Mikiss, who'd begun to edge towards Doranei. 'I think Rojak has been ten steps ahead for months, perhaps years, and underestimating him will get you killed. And yes, I think you have walked into an ambush.'