In the confusion, Church and Tom managed to drag Shavi, Ruth and Veitch free, and they scrambled across the cemetery beneath the cloud of swirling birds.
Fighting to repress the memories that had been torn free, Veitch turned in a rage, sword drawn. 'I'm going to cut that bastard to bits!'
'Forget it — we'd never beat three of them,' Church said. 'We'd be lucky to overpower that Aztec one on his own. The Morvren won't hurt them, but it should keep them distracted until we get away.'
Ruth, too, was altered by her experience. The dredged-up memories of her grief, and whatever lies her dead uncle had told her, had left a deep-seated anger rooted in her eyes. Spits and crackles of Blue Fire flashed around her, and Church could see she was struggling to maintain control. He went to comfort her, but she turned away.
He noticed Tom hanging back, and said quietly, 'You took on a huge burden to help us. I won't forget that.'
Tom nodded sullenly, but his relief was apparent.
'They said the Void was nearly here. Have we run out of time?' Ruth wiped away stinging tears.
'I don't know,' Church replied. 'But I do know that now we've been discovered every rogue god the Void has under its control will be trying to stop us reaching the Burning Man. And probably every single warrior in this entire Fortress.'
'Bring 'em on,' Veitch growled. 'They got me mad, messing with my head like that. They're the ones who should be scared.'
4
'We are not safe! She comes!' Doubled-up, Caitlin clutched at the wall, the crackling, ancient voice of Brigid echoing from her young mouth.
Every switch in persona always caught Mallory off-guard. Throughout the journey from the parting of ways, he had been dealing with the cold, brutal efficiency of the Morrigan, who gave little response to his attempts at warmth and friendship. 'Who is coming?' he asked.
Dazed, Caitlin shook her head. 'I… I don't know. Brigid is scared. She's hiding… so are the others.' She shook her head again and her eyes darkened. The Morrigan looked back at Mallory. 'Move quickly,' she said. 'We need to find a defensible position.'
Mallory sighed with frustration. 'Any chance you could stay with one personality for more than three seconds?'
He drew his sword. The sound of many running feet coming their way was already clear. Instinctively, a protective hand went to the bag containing the Extinction Shears.
They were in a section of the Fortress that appeared to be constructed entirely of the spoiled meat, gloomy and foul-smelling, the floor spongy underfoot. Nowhere to hide.
Snatching her axe from her back, Caitlin ran along the corridor. When the Morrigan was riding her, Mallory had difficulty keeping up; she was stronger, faster, her reactions more finely tuned, and she was more savage. The best person to have at your side in a fight, but Mallory valued the companionship of his friend more. The Caitlin he knew always reminded him of the real reason they were fighting; she kept him going when things became too bleak.
The corridor came to a dead end at a large doorway leading onto a stone and metal balcony. Beneath them, the Fortress stretched out for mile upon mile, an insane jumble of forums, towers, grand halls, industrial-scale factories, obelisks, barracks and many other structures Mallory couldn't identify. The sky was scarlet and black from the fires blazing everywhere, the air chokingly acrid. Creatures that resembled pterodactyls but with skull-like heads swooped overhead, screeching, as they attempted to fend off the Fabulous Beasts. Occasionally, the pall of smoke would shift to reveal the Burning Man looking down. Ten storeys below was an extensive forum paved with white stone, across which the Enemy streamed as they reinforced their defences or scattered to avoid the fiery blasts from above.
'How many of them are here? Millions?' Mallory gaped.
Another balcony could just be reached with a leap across a gulf, and there were other balconies in a line alongside the building they were in. Before he could point this out to Caitlin, she had turned and was swinging her axe at two of the sallow-skinned brutish creatures who had approached silently. Two heads flew off the balcony to the flags far below, but before the bodies had crashed to the soft, sticky floor the corridor was already packed with the rest of the pursuers. In the middle of the throng stood Niamh, the charred half of her face emphasising her fury.
Mallory's blood ran cold. Why did he hate her so much? In the depths of his mind, recollections shifted, ratcheting up his anger, but no solution to the mystery surfaced. Overcome with the desire for revenge, he gripped Llyrwyn and prepared to attack.
'The Brothers and Sisters of Dragons have broken into our home,' Niamh shrieked. 'Sound the alarm! Leave the walls. Here is the real threat!'
'That's not good,' Mallory said. 'We're going to have to cut our way through every bastard in here to get where we're going.'
The air was filled with a deafening siren that sounded like the cry of a tortured animal. Across the Fortress others began in sequence.
Mallory and Caitlin darted forwards at the same time as the hanging wave of their enemies broke. Within seconds, the corridor was filled with furious battle. Without room for delicate swordplay, Mallory hacked and slashed his way through anything that appeared before him, his blade sizzling through flesh, severing limbs and unleashing geysers of sticky black blood.
Despite the frenzy, he was aware of Caitlin beside him, hypnotic in the fluid rhythms of her savage ballet. Sidestepping, ducking and pirouetting at the same time as she whirled the axe in glittering arcs, she removed heads and limbs, crashed through shoulder-blades and tore open guts. Within a few seconds, she had carved a path ahead of Mallory. As two of the creatures fell, she rammed her fingers into the throat of another and ripped it out. Blood soaked her from head to foot. The axe came up instantly into the jaw of another, rending through its skull and out of the top of its head.
Mallory kept his focus on Niamh, standing cold and aloof at the rear of her guard. His blazing hatred was a distraction, and he made two errors of judgment in rapid succession. One of his enemy's short, razor-sharp swords broke through his defences and ripped open his chest. Another caught him a glancing blow on the side of the head and he pitched backwards. Instantly, they were upon him.
Through the crush of bodies, he had a brief glimpse of Caitlin striking out towards Niamh. The cold, unfeeling eyes of the Morrigan flashed briefly upon him, dismissed his plight and moved on, and Mallory realised his last chance had passed.
A sword cut through the top of his ear. Another tore open his temple. But their weight upon him made it difficult for the enemy to strike a killing blow.
Stupid bastards, he thought obliquely.
Just as he had given up hope, the weight pressing on him eased as bodies were torn off, had their throats cut and were discarded.
Caitlin looked down at him with eyes that contained only a hint of the Morrigan. 'I couldn't leave you,' she said with a smile.
As she offered a hand to pull him up, a sword burst out through her left shoulder. A look of startled incomprehension crossed her face. She glanced down at the protruding steel and watched the blood gush.
'Not again!' Mallory raged. He hacked through two more attackers, then grabbed Caitlin as her legs gave way. Her axe slipped from her fingers.
'I'll be all right,' she gasped. 'It missed the artery. Just… look out for yourself.'
Leaning her against the wall where she slid slowly to the floor, Mallory turned his attention to the few remaining attackers. This time his hatred and anger became fuel. He cut through warrior after warrior until only Niamh was left. She showed no fear.
