18 Samael

WITHIN THE SLUMS of the Muck, beyond Icarthya’s walls, smoke spiralled upwards in the frost-bitten air. The tree boughs of the surrounding woodland creaked with their burden of ice. The imperial marshal studied the grey brick building, searching for sign of a trap. It’s in there, she thought. The bastard is waiting for me.

‘Art!’ she hissed at a captain crouched beside her. They kept low behind a tumble of stone and waste. There was a stink of urine and the Spectrum knew what else. Scatter hated the Muck, having known such places in Hatava.

An open wasteland lay between them and the building, a lone foraging kecc and the yowls of fighting cats the only signs of life. The Muck was quieter these days when people weren’t queuing for handouts.

The other greencloaks remained within the treeline. Here the woodland was stunted shrubs and mud, but the vanth would focus on her. It sensed her angelic nature just as she sensed it.

‘Um, marshal,’ Artorius grunted, ‘what exactly is it we’re hunting anyway?’ The man had said what and not who, showing his intelligence. She also knew he trusted her. It was for this reason she hadn’t wanted him along, but Artorius had gathered a squad and followed.

‘You don’t want to know.’

‘That nasty? Hunted a pack of wargs once. Set loose in the mountains by their masters. Is this worse than a warg?’

‘You’ll stay here and wait to engage it on my orders. Do you understand?’

‘It?’

‘Like I told you, you don’t want to know. And if you’re unlucky enough to find out, remember I ordered you not to follow me.’

Artorius stuck a finger in one ear and jiggled it. Plucking it out he said, ‘I’m a bit hard of hearing, marshal. I took a mace to the head during the invasion. What did you say again?’

‘Bastard.’

He grinned and then added, ‘We’ll obey your order and remain here, but you shouldn’t go in alone. I’ve fought Nephilim toe to toe so to speak. Almost got stepped on several times. Whatever it is you’re after, you may need us. Let me go with you.’

‘You may regret it, Art.’

The soldier stared back at her with eyes like chips of flint. The man was brave and experienced, but he was no match for a vanth. Then again it was his city too and she could do with someone watching her back. Besides, he might just follow her anyway, and this way she’d know where he was at least. ‘You come alone and you will follow six feet behind me. You will do as I order or I’ll make you deaf in the other ear too. If I tell you to run, you will run.’

Artorius grinned. ‘Of course, marshal. I always obey every order I hear.’

She stared at the captain a moment longer, and decided it was the best she could do. They would die to protect their imperial marshal, quicker than they would for the Todralan princess. They seemed to regard Scatter as they had, Sarscha Todralan. It was both an honour and a nuisance.

They approached the mud brick building at a run until they reached the steps. Scatter entered a long corridor on the ground floor, dark and quiet save for the sound of dripping water. Artorius got a torch lit and raised it up. The rotting carcasses and bones of kecci, feral dogs, various types of rats, and a cat, all littered the corridor. A set of stone stairs to their right led upwards.

Scatter led the way to the second level of the tenement and then the third. There was no sign of human activity. A perfect place for a vanth to hide and lick its wounds. They liked the darkness, their souls poisoned with it. The squalid living conditions of the ordinary Mucker were laid bare; pieces of rancid food left on tables or littering the wooden floors, dirty rags scattered about. Of every apartment they passed, most meant to house several families, the doors were flung open. Not a soul remained, but then the vanth would have seen to that.

‘They all ... vanished,’ Artorius noted as he hovered behind her. ‘What happened to them?’

Scatter glanced back at him. He wouldn’t believe if she told him. Mortals were like that. They took one final flight of stairs and halted at an apartment with the door closed. Yes, it wanted her here. It knew she was its greatest obstacle. Remove her and the way was clear to killing Aiyana. It was a trap and one she intended to spring.

‘What now?’ asked the captain.

Scatter shrugged. ‘I guess, we knock. Be prepared for anything, and remember, when I say run ...’

He nodded, torch in one hand, bronze sword in the other not that it would do him much good.

Scatter rapped her knuckles on the splintered wood.

The door opened.

‡

AN ELDERLY MAN STOOD in the doorway blinking in the torchlight. He appeared gaunt and feeble, wrapped in a dark cloak. He peered at them from beneath a sweaty brow, eyes small and red-rimmed. He croaked a cough, glancing at the soldier before settling his gaze on Scatter.

Artorius relaxed, sheathing his sword and was about to say something, perhaps to apologise for disturbing him.

Scatter raised one hand to silence the soldier, and hissed, ‘Art, run!’

Instead, the soldier hesitated, ‘Marshal, it’s just—’

The old man’s cloak evaporated, reforming as midnight feathered wings. The head spasmed and rippled as the face transformed revealing a quartet of black eyes, which blinked once.

‘Hello, Samael,’ Scatter said, feeling a heaviness settle in her heart. It was never pleasant to find oneself on the wrong side of an old friend.

A burst of power shook the floor and walls and it was all Scatter could do to withstand its force. Aware of the mortal behind her – who was likely staring with mouth hung open and eyes big as plates – she rushed at the vanth. Its magic ripped at her body and soul. It was her fault Artorius was there and she wouldn’t allow the vanth to harm him. She managed to scream a final, ‘Run!’

She collided with it and they fell back into the room, landing hard. As the vanth struck the floor, a ripple of power burst outwards, the wood buckling and splitting.

Its taloned wings stabbed at her furiously, but a second Scatter stood over it, hacking with her sword, giving the original a chance to disentangle herself and regain her feet.

The vanth rose, head bowed with taloned wings raised protectively. Surrounding it were six Scatter replicas, all armed with a sword and dagger. There was no shield which could withstand a vanth, but the sword the original Scatter held was a soul shard. She just needed the right moment to strike hoping the vanth didn’t know which was the real threat.

Artorius had entered the room behind her. One of the Scatters shot him a glare. ‘Get out you idiot. You cannot fight this.’

‘I’m supposed to ... watch your back,’ he stammered, looking from each of the women, who was really one woman, to the winged monster in the centre.

As the vanth lashed out, another Scatter shielded the soldier from harm forcing him back out into the corridor. The vanth disembowelled her with one strike and that Scatter vanished. The others felt the pain and shock. This time, Artorius ran.

The vanth’s wings were a flurry of liquid darkness as it flowed between its assailants. Within moments, three more Scatters lay wounded with three weakened.

The original held back, and with a silent command the remaining two struck at the Fallen One, distracting it.

Exactly what she needed.

The imperial marshal, shard in hand, struck it from behind, piercing through its wings and driving the blade deep into its body.

Samael shrieked, trembling as one of those wings snapped back with the force of foul magic behind it. It stabbed into her and she sank onto the floor wounded. She’d managed to withdraw the shard as she fell and a filament of darkness flowed from the vanth into the blade.

Its shrieks intensified, yet instead of dying it managed to sever the shard’s hold. Darkness enveloped it like clouds smothering the moon, and it was gone.

When the marshal emerged into the night, collapsing onto the dirt, Artorius was there with the others. They lifted her up carrying her back into the city to the medicary.

Every soldier of the imperial legions knew Etruria as their patron. They did not know if this woman was her, which she wasn’t, but they knew she was angelic and it was enough.

They carried her gently.

They carried her with reverence.