'Still, she's dead now. Really dead. One of the things I never taught her was how to keep someone from leaving their body. But I know how. No more Dark Men for you, Rowan, my dear.'
Hawk listened to the man chatter with one ear, while he concentrated on the approaching Dark Men. They moved slowly but surely, and held their swords with a confident grip. They didn't breathe, and blood no longer ran from their wounds. There was no doubt they were all dead, animated only by the sorcerer's will. Hawk thought quickly, running the possibilities through his mind. He couldn't get to the nearest exit, so he'd have to stand and fight. A lich may be unkillable, but it can still be stopped. Disable them by cutting through the arms and legs, or severing the head, and they'd be helpless. Hawk smiled sourly. Sure. As easy as that. But since he had no other choice; when in doubt, be direct.
He jumped forward and swung his axe in a vicious arc at the nearest Dark Man. Its unblinking eyes never wavered, and its sword flashed up to meet the axe. Hawk changed his grip at the last moment and swept the axe under the sword to slam into the dead man's side. Bones broke and splintered as the heavy axe head punched through the rib cage, throwing the Dark Man off balance. Hawk jerked the axe free and struck savagely at the lich's neck. It sank to one knee under the impact of the blow, and shuddered as Hawk jerked the axe free again. But another Dark Man was already closing in, and although Hawk stepped quickly back, the lich followed him relentlessly, launching a sustained attack with his sword, which took all of Hawk's skill to parry. Behind him, he could hear the clash of steel on steel as Fisher took on the remaining Dark Man. On the floor, the first Dark Man was already getting to his feet again.
Fisher muttered the suppressor stone's activating phrase under her breath again and again, but nothing happened. Either the stone was drained or it wasn't powerful enough to overcome Bode's sorcery. She scowled, and launched a furious attack on her Dark Man, trying to fight her way past it to get at Bode, but the lich stood its ground and parried all her blows with inhuman efficiency. Sweat ran down her face, stinging her eyes, and she had to fight to get her breath. It had been a long hard day, and her second wind had come and gone. Even if she'd been fresh and at her peak, the lich would have been hard to beat, and as it was she had to struggle to make it anything like an equal contest. She had no tricks left up her sleeve, or at least none that would work on a dead man, and she was starting to slow down. Slowly the Dark Man moved from de fence to offence, and Fisher began to give ground.
Hawk and Fisher stood back to back, swinging sword and axe with leaden arms and hammering hearts. Their breath rasped in their throats and sweat soaked their clothes. The near misses got closer all the time as the Dark Men pressed steadily forward. Blood flew on the air, and Hawk and Fisher spat curses as here and there a blow struck home. Hawk gathered the last of his strength and prepared for one final lunge to take him past the Dark Man and launch him at Bode's throat. The odds weren't exactly good, but what the hell. It wasn't that far. Maybe he'd get lucky.
And then a brilliant light flared up, filling the room with its glare, and one by one the Dark Men slowed to a halt and fell heavily to the floor. Hawk looked quickly round, gasping for breath. Tomb had dragged himself across the floor, leaving a wide trail of blood behind him, and now sat propped against the wall with the Exorcist Stone in his hands. The Stone blazed like a miniature star, too bright to look at, banishing all magic from the room. Bode looked at Tomb incredulously. Tomb smiled, showing bloody teeth.
'This is for Rowan, you bastard. Hawk, kill him.'
Bode looked back at Hawk, and quickly raised his hands in the air. 'I surrender, Captain.'
'Like hell,' said Hawk, and cut the sorcerer down with one blow. Bode died with the same incredulous look on his face.
'What the hell,' said Fisher, tiredly lowering her sword. 'He'd only have escaped anyway.'
They put away their weapons and moved over to kneel beside Tomb. The Exorcist Stone slipped from his fingers and rolled away. Its light flickered and went out. Tomb's face was deathly pale, the blood at his mouth stark red against the white skin. He looked across at Rowan, lying still and lifeless, and his mouth worked once.
'I loved her, you know. I really loved her.'
He closed his eyes. Hawk felt for a pulse in Tomb's neck. It was there, but so faint he could barely feel it.
'Is he still alive?' asked Fisher quietly.
'Yeah. But don't ask me how. You'd better go for a doctor; I'll try and keep Tomb and Buchan comfortable till you get back.' He looked across at Rowan, and his mouth hardened. 'Do you suppose she ever cared for him at all?'
'I don't know,' said Fisher, getting to her feet. 'Maybe, if things had been different…'
'Yeah,' said Hawk. 'Maybe.' He looked away. 'He deserved better than her.'
And then a living Presence exploded in the room, suffusing everything with a glow of its existence. The Presence beat on the air like a giant heartbeat, or the wings of a powerful bird. A deep and desperate sorrow permeated the room, grief beyond bearing, until Hawk felt as though he would break down and weep at any moment.
'What is it?' whispered Fisher, her eyes bright with unshed tears. 'What's happening?' it's Le Bel Inconnu,' said Hawk softly. 'The God that Tomb worshipped. The dying God. It's come here to be with its friend, in their last moments. So neither of them would have to go into the dark alone.'
And then, in a moment, the Presence was gone, as though it had never been. The room seemed to echo with its loss. Hawk looked down at Tomb, and didn't need to check the man's pulse to know that he was dead, too.
The Street of Gods was back to normal again, or at least as close as it ever got to normal. The sky was a bright and cheerful blue, and reminded Hawk of pleasant summer days. As long as he didn't look at it too closely. The unmoving clouds and lack of a sun tended to spoil the illusion. Priests and worshippers crowded the Street, bustling back and forth and playing out their familiar roles in the never-ending game of salvation and damnation. Seekers for truth rubbed shoulders with wide-eyed tourists, all of them heckled by street preachers and badgered by concession stallholders. It was all very much business as usual, for mortals and Beings alike.
Guard Constables and Brothers of Steel stood together on street corners, keeping an eye on things and swapping lies about their exploits during the recent unrest. The priests pretended they weren't there, and concentrated on the more important task of sneering at their inferiors and ostentatiously ignoring the rest. There was almost an air of carnival on the Street of Gods; a celebration of life, of chaos narrowly avoided. When you got right down to it, no one had really wanted a God War. It was bad for business.
Hawk and Fisher strolled down the Street, taking their time and enjoying the sights, accompanied by Lord Louis Hightower. People who recognized the two Guards gave them respectful bows and plenty of room. Hawk smiled graciously. It seemed to him he'd never seen the Street so calm and serene. There was still the usual sprinkling of supernatural flotsam and jetsam: a headless man crawling down the Street on hands and knees, a flock of birds that flew in an endless circle overhead, a laughing woman covered with bubbling blood, and burning coals where her eyes should be; but even they seemed content to keep to themselves and not bother anyone.
'I don't think I've ever known the Street so peaceful,' said Lord Hightower. 'One can only hope it'll last.'
'I doubt it,' said Hawk. 'People have short memories, and from what I hear, the Beings aren't much better. Except when it comes to feuds.'
Hightower laughed. 'You're probably right. Still, the Beings have settled down somewhat, now the God killer has been identified and dealt with, and the priests are behaving themselves for the moment. I suppose your work here is pretty much finished.'
'Pretty much,' said Fisher. 'The Guard sorcerers are searching the rest of the city for more of Bode's homunculi, just in case, but that's the only loose end. We're just hanging on here until the Council appoints a new Deity Division. Buchan's the only survivor of the last God Squad, and it'll be some time before he's ready for duty again.'
'Indeed,' said Hightower. 'I looked in on Charles earlier today. He was looking decidedly pale, but much improved. Amazing what they can do with healing spells these days. And the delightful young lady acting as his nurse seemed very competent.'
'She'll take good care of him,' said Hawk. 'Annette's very fond of Buchan.'
They walked a while in silence, each of them waiting for the other to continue. Hawk broke first. 'All right.
