by Derek Landy
She wanted to tear Kitana’s head off. She wanted to crush Doran’s throat and rip out Sean’s spine. Then she wanted to pull Argeddion limb from limb and use his head as a football and eat his eyes and swallow his tongue and turn him to …
Dust.
A smile broke across Darquesse’s face, and she looked towards Ratoath. Now where would China have put that pesky little Sceptre?
atoath was a town under siege.
Mevolent’s forces hurled everything they had at the interlocking force fields. Buildings burned and smoke billowed like all it wanted to do was escape the madness. And it was madness down there. It was full of screams and shouts and blood and violence. There were the sounds of gunfire and clashing swords and the crackling of magical energies. A vast army, ready to swarm and barely being held at bay by the few Resistance fighters who stood behind the barricades.
There was fighting in the streets, also. Here and there, Mevolent’s army had broken through. Some mortals ran. Others stood their ground beside their sorcerer friends, and did their best to hold back the tide. A futile effort. Noble, certainly, but futile, definitely. The sheer numbers of Redhoods alone would overtake the town, never mind the mages who fought under Mevolent’s banner.
And Darquesse hovered above it all, searching for one person in all of that madness, reaching out with her magic to locate the unlikely leader of the Resistance. She saw her, China, in her white dress, sprinting barefoot down a laneway, pursued by Redhoods who ran two abreast. Fourteen of them, closing in. For a moment Darquesse thought that she might have to intervene, but as China burst out of the alleyway, the clever woman tapped a hidden sigil carved into the wall. Silly Redhoods, following her into a trap. The alley walls erupted and the Redhoods were shredded to bloody pieces, and no less than they deserved.
Plumes of smoke and dust rushed out after China, filling the street. She coughed and waved her arms, trying to see where she was going. From her vantage point Darquesse could see Baron Vengeous moving up from behind, clearly hoping to jump out at her like some dreary horror-movie maniac. But there was Anton Shudder, dropping on to him from a rooftop.
Vengeous turned his shoulder into him, shoved, got him against the wall and started throwing punches. Shudder soaked up all the damage, waited for Vengeous to tire, and then he exploded into movement. He wrapped an arm round Vengeous’s head, fingers digging into his eyes while his other hand gripped his chin, and then he cranked Vengeous’s head around. The neck snapped and Vengeous twisted as he fell, and Shudder stepped over his body and took China’s arm, and led her away. She hadn’t even realised Vengeous was there. For some reason this made Darquesse laugh. Poor Baron Vengeous.
Darquesse floated above it all, keeping an eye on China as she parted ways with Shudder, watching her hurry into a house and Shudder turn back to the fighting. From up here, the small town looked like it was gradually being consumed by fire and smoke. Mevolent’s forces would be here soon enough.
Darquesse approached the force field and it parted for her. She drifted down to the building and in through a window. There were people downstairs. China was giving them orders. Fear rose through the floorboards like heat. It was all very exciting.
Footsteps. Bare feet on stairs. China came in, walked right by Darquesse without even seeing her.
“Boo.”
China spun, her tattoos flashing, and Darquesse dodged a wave of blue energy that cracked the wall behind her. China’s eyes narrowed. “You,” she said.
A Cleaver ran in, but China held up a hand to stop him. “Oh, I don’t have time for this at all,” she said. “Can you not see? Mevolent is attacking. Apparently he’s leading the charge himself. Get out. Run, while you’re still able.”
“The Sceptre,” Darquesse said. “Where is it?”
“Run, or I’ll have you killed.”
“Sceptre …”
Annoyance tugged at China’s lips. “I told you I’d kill you if I saw you again.”
“Me?” Darquesse said, and smiled. “Oh, you’ve never met me before.”
China nodded to the Cleaver and he stepped forward. Darquesse glanced at him and turned his lungs inside out. He fell, clutching his throat.
China raised an eyebrow. “I see.”
“I’m glad. The Sceptre?”
“I don’t have it here,” she said. “I’ve hidden it. If you can get me out of here, away from Mevolent’s forces, I’ll give it to you.”
“I’m not here to bargain, I’m here for the Sceptre.”
And then the room exploded.
To her eyes, it all happened so very slowly. The wall to her right caved in, buckling the floorboards and the ceiling, filling the air with shards of wood and stone. Darquesse was picked up, thrown sideways, out through the opposite wall as what looked like the whole building splintered and came after her. She fell to the street, ears ringing, barely able to hear the explosions that followed in rapid succession. A mortar attack, maybe. Softening the opposition before the big push.
She rolled on the cobbled street, the remains of China’s building falling around her. Her skin was lacerated but it was nothing major. She sat up. A few streets away she could see the Redhoods charging, people running from them in terror. She saw Lord Vile, his shadows whipping through the paltry defences and barricades. The bad guys were coming.
She got to her feet, pulling a piece of floorboard from her neck. Screw that. The bad guy was already here.
She was pretty sure China survived the explosion. Darquesse hadn’t seen how she’d fared, but she was confident that a woman like China Sorrows would not be taken out by a mere mortar round. Which meant she was retreating to as secure a location as she could find – which was probably where she had the Sceptre hidden.
Darquesse took a step and scowled. Her hands went to her head. She turned, saw white robes, lots of them, and then she gagged and dropped to her knees.
The Sense-Wardens surrounded her, flooded her mind with pain and misery, made her want to curl up into a little ball, just surrender, stop fighting, beg for the instant release of death. The struggle wasn’t worth it. The anguish wasn’t worth it. Everything hurt and everything died and nothing was worth it. Give up. She should give up. Oh, God, she wanted to give up. She was crying. Of course she was crying. Why wouldn’t she? Life was nothing and nothing meant anything and everything was meaningless and she should just lie down and die. Just die, for God’s sake, and let the Faceless Ones judge her in death. Just lie down here and stop fighting and accept the end.
But she didn’t worship the Faceless Ones.
She didn’t believe they straddled life and death. She didn’t believe they would judge her.
These weren’t her beliefs. These were the beliefs of the Sense-Wardens, the men and women surrounding her and forcing these thoughts into her head. Oh, they were clever, these Sense-Wardens. They crept in there and force-fed her these feelings and made her despair. It almost worked, too. But they weren’t strong enough. Not against her. Not against Darquesse. She was quickly becoming a god, quickly becoming strong enough to kill the Faceless Ones should she ever meet them again. These Sense-Wardens didn’t have the first idea who they were dealing with.
But they were realising now.
And some of them were already trying to pull out, but it was much too late. Now she was in their heads, and she was overpowering their puny little minds, crushing them with an ease that was frightening, terrifying. They tried to retreat but she caught them, one by one, and she was turning out the lights inside their minds. One, two, three and look as their bodies dropped four, five, six and they were all gone now, their minds ruined, their bodies shutting down, and Darquesse stood up and willed away the headache.
They hadn’t come at her one at a time like they’d done to Valkyrie the first day she shunted. They came with back-up. Reinforcements. They should have come with more.
She walked through the narrow streets of this narrow town, ignoring the distant screams and explosions, ignor
ing the frightened people, both mortal and mage, who ran this way and that. She stopped before a large building, three storeys tall, reinforced like a mini-fort and protected by a force field that fried the air if it got too close. Beyond the force field, Cleavers stood, scythes at the ready. She ignored them, too. This was the last secure building in the town. Something like this, with its defences, could withstand a full-on assault for days.
She ignored it, walked by it.
The fighting hadn’t reached this part of the town. Here, the streets were peaceful. There was no one running about, no one lying dead halfway out of a window, no one kicking in doors. If it weren’t for the sounds of war right behind her, this might almost be idyllic.
She walked until she came to a little tavern. Oh, it looked like such a nice little place. So gentle. So unassuming. She pushed the door open, went inside. It even smelled nice. She walked up the stairs, found China and Anton Shudder waiting for her. China had a few cuts and bruises, but apart from that she was her usual beautiful self.
“How did you find me?” she asked, giving a splendidly ladylike sigh.
Darquesse shrugged. “This seems like the kind of place you’d retreat to, that’s all. Looks unassuming, but it’s got windows to every street so you can see what’s coming. Seems pretty sturdy, too. Not as sturdy as the fort you’ve got everyone defending, but then this doesn’t draw as much attention.” She looked at Shudder. “I know what you’re thinking, Anton. But I wouldn’t try it if I were you. I’m a lot tougher than I look.”
Shudder observed her with cold, clear eyes, and didn’t respond.
“I’ll give you the Sceptre,” said China. “We don’t have to be enemies.”
“Sounds ideal,” Darquesse said.
Shudder frowned, stepped to the window. “Teleporter,” he said.
He could have been bluffing, it could have been the oldest trick in the book, but Shudder wasn’t one for tricks, and so Darquesse joined him at the window. Alexander Remit stood on the next rooftop, watching them. He disappeared before she could do anything.
Teleporters were bad news. He could be back here in five seconds with an entire army. It would probably be best if she moved now.
“The Sceptre,” she said, striding to China. “Now.”
China’s beautiful blue eyes widened slightly. Darquesse sighed, and turned. There he was, Remit, standing before her with his master at his side. Of course. Why bother with an army when you have Mevolent?
He was dressed in his battlesuit of chainmail and armour and leather, complete with spiked metal helmet shaped like a screaming face. He looked Darquesse up and down while Shudder and China backed out of the room.
“You’re different,” he said.
She examined his magic from where she stood. His power was impressive. She saw no hint that he had discovered his true name, contrary to so many rumours. Instead, she noted the level to which he had risen as an Elemental, surpassing every preconceived notion of how strong a mere human could become. People like Darquesse and Argeddion aside, he was quite possibly the most powerful sorcerer who had ever lived.
And he was most definitely a threat.
Darquesse sent her magic forth. Mevolent took a step back, confused at the sudden sensation as every bone in his body strained, cracked and snapped. He fell, and Remit stumbled away, eyes wide. He vanished and she let him go. She was here for the Sceptre, nothing else.
And then, slowly, Mevolent got back to his feet.
She smiled at him. “How did you do that?”
He didn’t answer. He gestured. The air that Darquesse breathed suddenly expanded, rupturing her windpipe, swelling her throat. It would have broken her cervical vertebrae had she not overridden his control. She returned her throat to normal, repairing the damage as she did so and taking a deep breath when it was done.
“Sneaky,” she said.
Remit staggered out of thin air, dragging the biggest sword Darquesse had ever seen. Mevolent grasped the hilt with both hands, swung it up. It even looked big when he held it.
“That’s your plan?” she asked as she approached. “You’re going to try and stab me? How disappointingly uninspired.”
When she was close enough, he swung. At the last moment she saw something in the blade that shimmered, and moved her head back. The energy that whistled by her throat almost made her cry out. The sword came back at her, impossibly light in Mevolent’s hands, and Darquesse stumbled to get away. She didn’t know what it was, but she instinctively knew it could kill her.
Mevolent pressed forward, his attacks relentless, his speed and ferocity robbing Darquesse of any chance to gather her thoughts. The only thing that mattered was keeping away from that blade. She tripped, fell, rolled, scrambled up and stumbled. The blade cut through stone and wood as it came for her, Mevolent twisting and turning beneath it, never leaving himself open. She jumped backwards, into the air, but he came after her, and now they were flying and she still couldn’t make space between them. They spiralled and torqued and that blade just kept getting closer. She ducked, managed to shove him away and retreated.
“That’s some sword,” she said, backing up to the other side of the room. “Just a little something you happened to have in your collection?”
“It is known as the God-Killer,” he replied. “What it cuts, it kills. You can feel the truth in my words, can’t you?”
“Which is why I’m all the way over here,” she said. She reached out with her magic, tried to pluck the sword from his hands, but it resisted her attempt. Annoying.
“We don’t need to fight,” she said. “I came here for the Sceptre, but you can keep it. Let me have the God-Killer.”
“These weapons were forged to make war against the Faceless Ones. I can’t allow someone like you to possess one of them.”
“I promise I won’t lose it.”
Something screeched – Mevolent turned and was knocked back by Shudder’s Gist. It clawed at his arm and the sword fell, and it flew at him again but Mevolent pushed at the air and Shudder was launched backwards off his feet.
The God-Killer lay on the floor in the middle of the room. Darquesse smiled.
Mevolent dived for the sword but she went straight for him, catching him in the side with a kick that sent him hurtling through the wall.
She picked up the God-Killer. It was heavy. She didn’t know much about swords, apart from the pointy end goes in the other person, but she could see herself swinging this in battle. True, it was almost the length of her from end to end, and that could make her look slightly ridiculous. But so what if the sight of her made her enemies chuckle as she came for them? Wasn’t it better to die with a laugh on the lips than a scream?
She didn’t know. It was probably much of a muchness, as her father would say.
Four sorcerers came for her, wielding weapons of their own, and her heart leaped with delight. She dodged an axe and swung the sword and it cleaved through the man like he wasn’t even there. Almost immediately she felt a spear poke all the way through her side. Ghastly’s jacket would have prevented that. The thought of Kitana wearing it made her angry. She took her left hand from the God-Killer’s hilt and crushed the spear-man’s throat.
Another sword came for her and she brought the God-Killer to meet it. Metal clashed. Clashed again. It was all very exciting. But then the man, and what an ugly man he was, did some fancy move and his sword opened her up. He stepped behind her and spun, driving his sword through her back. She tried reaching for him, but his sword held her where she was and she still had that stupid spear sticking out of her. Then the fourth sorcerer ruined it all by pointing a sawn-off shotgun into her face.
Before he could pull the trigger, she sent her magic into him, boiling his brain in his skull. She turned as the ugly man pulled his sword out and tried swinging for her head. Her hand wrapped round his fist, twisted so that the blade angled towards his own throat, and pushed it in deep.
She let him fall, then pulled the spear from her s
ide and snapped it. She looked at the God-Killer. Swords, apparently, just weren’t her thing. She hurled it through the window, took a moment to heal herself, then stepped through the hole in the wall that Mevolent had made. Just in time to see him ripping the Sceptre from China’s hands.
His metal mask turned to Darquesse. The crystal flashed and black lightning streaked by her head as she dived to one side.
China, being China, used this opportunity to run from the room.
Darquesse wheeled, barely avoiding another arc of lightning that turned the wall to dust behind her. Mevolent fired again and she felt the lightning sizzle by her face as she jerked back. She launched herself upwards, breaking through the ceiling, Mevolent right behind her. Open sky lay ahead. She didn’t know how fast he flew, but she was sure she was faster. Only out here, all he had to do was aim. Down there, there were things to duck behind.
She changed course abruptly and he overshot. She needed people, people to distract him, people to hide behind. She needed walls and doors and cover.
They flew to the battle, where Cleaver fought against Redhood and the Resistance fought the whatever. Kingdom? Empire? Whatever Mevolent was in charge of. Darquesse didn’t know. She had more pressing matters.
Lightning sought her out and she flipped in mid-air so that Mevolent shot beneath her. She grabbed him, was pulled along with him, and he tried turning the Sceptre but she knocked it from his hand. They hit the ground and tumbled, people screaming all around them.
She got to her hands and knees and all of a sudden he was standing over her with a concrete block in his hands. She didn’t even have time to wonder where he’d picked it up before it came crunching down on her head. Her face hit the road. She’d bitten her tongue. She hated that.
