“What are you doing? Only I can wield the eye.”

  The Asrai tried to grab her but Vanth was already hoisting herself upwards, trying not to gag as she held fast to one of the oozing tendons. Tucking the pendant into her vest, she began to climb the limb like a slippery tree. It was hard to find purchase against the creature’s damp flesh and when she reached for her next handhold, for one terrible moment she thought she was going to fall back to the ground. Her hand flailed in mid-air as she groped for the edge of the rag tied about the monster’s waist. She closed her fingers tightly around the filthy material and bent her knees to push off from the demon’s leg. Vanth swung herself up onto the hanging rag, scrambling madly until she found a more stable position in a stiff fold of the material. She allowed herself a single quick breath before drawing one of her daggers from the holster on her belt.

  Pulling herself up as high as she could, she bore down with the blade, making a deep slash in the small of the creature’s back before slipping back down to clutch at the rag. She waited for the space of another breath, expecting the creature to rear and scream again, or at least try to shake her off. It was still preoccupied with the Salt Swords darting between its flat feet and did not seem to notice the new wound in its back.

  Vanth mouthed a silent word of gratitude before re-sheaving her dagger and pulling out the eye pendant. She gasped when she touched it. Nestled between the layers of her leather armour, she hadn’t realised how hot it had become. The pendant’s dazzling purple eye was wide open, unblinking even as it flicked back and forth to look around the square. Rays of light were projecting from the pupil, burnt black amid white-hot brilliance. Vanth turned her head away, squinting into the grey dust of the square in an attempt to clear her scorched vision.

  “Hurry,” Gwin urged from below. “The pendant is almost at full power.”

  Gathering her strength for one final effort, Vanth pulled herself up once more. With one hand gripping the rag so tightly her knuckles burned in protest, she stretched to push the pendant deep inside the stinking wound above her head. This time the creature reacted. It stopped chasing the Salt Swords and paused for one long moment. It straightened, tried to twist around to claw at the burning gash in its back. Vanth was knocked from her precarious ledge. She lost her grip and fell to the hard ground below.

  The creature thrashed about, falling against what was left of the Bard’s Rest. The smoking tavern trembled, falling in on itself like a tumbling house of cards. The creature staggered back into the centre of the square and opened its jaws to the heavens, screaming with such deep ferocity that Vanth felt sure she could feel blood boiling up from deep inside her ears. She closed her streaming eyes against it, red-rimmed and aching from the black smoke of the fires raging on all sides.

  She became aware of Barlo, his concerned face looming above hers in the gloom. He grabbed her beneath the arms and dragged her across the cobblestones. Vanth tried to push him away and climb to her feet, but a splitting pain tore through her right leg. She had torn a muscle in the fall.

  Twisting her head to see what was happening, she caught sight of the druid she had helped save. He was still chanting, eyes shut, face infuriatingly serene. His arms were fully extended to either side now, the trembling web of power strung between them continuing to grow. Around the square, Vanth could see other flashes of shimmering pink beginning to radiate against the ash clouds billowing down from blackened rooftops. The druids’ spell would soon be complete, but Vanth and Gwin had beaten them to it.

  Barlo hoisted Vanth to a sitting position against a wall, placing one hand on her shoulder when she tried again to stand.

  “Be still, woman, for Thet’s sake.”

  If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

  “What are you doing here? You should run. Find somewhere to hide.”

  “And leave you here like this?”

  The creature surged forward, long arms flailing, flattening everything in its path as it swayed and staggered like a drunk. Vanth gripped the rough edges of the bricks in the wall behind her, desperately trying to pull herself to her feet. Agony splintered through her body, so sharp it made her dizzy. Barlo tried to restrain her again but she pushed him away with a grunt of pain, sweat beginning to bead on her forehead.

  “It will destroy what’s left of Midnight Square.” When Barlo failed to respond she gripped the front of his shirt, bringing his face close to hers with an effort that made her grimace. “My arms-mates are out there.”

  “Be still,” Barlo repeated. “Gwin has the beast.”

  Vanth peered into the dense cloud of dust still swirling in the square, darkening from grey to black as the fires grew closer. A small flash of blue helped her pick Gwin out, small and fragile-looking beside the enraged creature. The Asrai had placed her slim white hands on the creature’s leg. It should have kicked her away easily but its movements were becoming slower, its shoulders slumping and its arms falling to its sides. It lifted its head to expel one last, somewhat subdued, bellow. Gwin was freezing the demon as she had frozen Vanth’s arm in the Leafling’s Half.

  Vanth fought not to close her eyes against the stinging black ash. It rolled through the square and rebounded against the surrounding buildings like a great charcoal wave. The skin of the creature’s leg was becoming hard and glassy. Blue frost crept up its body, disappearing beneath the rag tied at its waist. The demon moaned, its hands balling to useless fists, then fell heavily to its knees with a tremulous thump that shattered the cobblestones beneath it.

  Gwin turned and ran blindly through the smoke towards them. Barlo jumped up, waving his hands in the air.

  “Over here,” he shouted.

  “Be quiet,” Vanth said, pulling him back down as Gwin found them, her face shining in the ashy darkness.

  “Goddess be praised, you are safe.” She slid down the wall to crouch beside them. “You should shield your eyes.”

  Even amid the heat of the encroaching flames, Gwin’s skin was ice cold and tinged with blue. Her breath hung in the air like frozen fog.

  Vanth looked back towards the creature, bent double in the middle of the square. The weeping slash in its back was smouldering, throwing out long plumes of ice white smoke that spiralled up into the black ash falling all around. Then, with a high-pitched boom that made Barlo cry out in fright, the entire back half of the creature exploded. Long wet chunks of dark organs and festering tissue sprayed across the square.

  Incredibly, the monster was still alive. It was screaming. The shrill shriek penetrated Vanth’s bones and vibrated against her teeth. She groped for Barlo beside her, finding his forearm and gripping it tightly. As the terrible cry dwindled, a blue flame sprung up. It rippled across the beast’s quivering body, searing its skin and filling the square with the choking smell of rancid, burnt meat. They watched the creature burn until it melted into a fetid heap like so much stinking wax.

  Finally rousing herself, Vanth released Barlo’s arm and turned to Gwin. “You’ve got to leave. Quickly.” Her voice was cracked, hoarse from inhaling ash and the acrid, cloying reek of the burning demon. “If Albin and Pictor are alive, they’ll be coming to find me.”

  Gwin nodded and rose, but Barlo was unwilling to leave her.

  “Vanth, I—”

  “Please go. I’ll find you later.”

  “Come, Barlo,” Gwin said. “We must return to Gulpe.”

  As she watched them run back behind the line of cross-legged druids, heading for Midnight Lane, Vanth saw the druid she had been protecting finally open his eyes. He looked around the ruined square, his expression a mixture of surprise and disappointment. With his concentration broken, the dewy web of his spell turned dull, crumbling in his hands to drift away on the swirling clouds of ash.

  Vanth collapsed back against the wall, her breath shallow as she struggled to manage the pain ripping through her right leg. Her arms-mates would find her soon. She would have to act as surprised as them—would have to pretend she didn’t know why the druids’ spell failed, or why the demon had spontaneously combusted. Looking down at the sticky green residue coating the front of her vest and the length of her trousers—a souvenir from her climb—Vanth hoped her leg would heal quickly. She had a raging thirst she knew would only be quenched by the triple-strength ale sold under the counter at the Leafling’s Half.