The force with which Se’Saera landed caused the ground to shudder.
Through the eyes of another, through the eyes of the long-dead Kilian, Zaifyr gazed at the huge form of the god. She appeared to have no centre but the unmade forms of her other heads, the heads of Se’Saera that would take form once she had gathered to her the remaining power of the gods. The three heads that had risen and gazed not just at him, but at Jix, Meina, Anguish and the soldiers of Steel, came from that unformed mass, leaving Zaifyr with the question of what would happen once she had gathered all the gods’ power. Would she break apart – was she no more than the first form the gods took when they made the world? He did not know. He could not know. He would never know: he was, for all his power, the spirit of a dead man.
Gripping Kilian’s sword tightly, the sword that was an extension of himself, Zaifyr charged Se’Saera.
Her first head snapped down.
It happened quicker than he thought possible, quicker than he certainly realized, and her hard teeth tore into Kilian’s spirit.
Zaifyr left the bite.
He appeared behind Se’Saera, in the spirit of another of her ancient soldiers, Nsyan. He had been a hunter, a killer, and while the images of his life flipped past Zaifyr’s consciousness, he drew the dead man’s sword and thrust it forwards.
It pierced the god’s unmade centre, but if the weapon hurt her, Zaifyr could not tell. Her third head roared and speared down towards him, but before it crashed through him, Zaifyr jumped into the spirit of a woman from Lor Jix’s crew, Uyr. He saw her on a giant boat, on the green blue ocean, even as he took a step back, even as he drew her sword.
On the other side of Se’Saera, Meina gave the order for Steel to attack.
Zaifyr wanted to shout out to her, to tell her to call her soldiers back, to order them not to attack, but before he could, a blade pierced through Uyr’s back. Instinctively, he shifted into the spirit of the attacker, and in doing so, he moved back into Kilian. New images assaulted him – Kilian over a fire, lifting an iron poker, a man tied to a rack – but a deep, profound sense of despair overcame that.
The dead could not die.
Attack a spirit, break it apart, crush it, spear it, stab it – it did not matter. It was already within the City of the Dead. A spirit could not be destroyed. It could be stripped of its identity, could be rendered without self, but it could not be destroyed. If it could be done, it could only be done by a god. With a sense of desperation, Zaifyr turned towards Steel, just as Se’Saera lashed out with her heads, and two of Meina’s soldiers disappeared in a burst of colour.
When the god’s heads rose, however, the white outline of the spirits remained. They did not pause before they attacked their comrades.
‘You cannot stay here.’ Queila Meina’s voice brought him back to himself, to his own body. He stood in the gateway of Heüala. ‘You have to stop her.’
Zaifyr did not know how he would do that. Before him, Steel was scattered, Se’Saera’s huge form and three heads were breaking them apart, pushing them towards her own soldiers. That they were not already broken was a testimony to their skill, but it was only a matter of time.
‘The tower,’ Lor Jix said beside him. ‘She was curled around that, as if she was protecting it. Surely within it we will find a way to defeat her.’
Surely? ‘We can’t be sure about that,’ he said.
‘There are few certainties in death, Zaifyr.’ Meina lifted Anguish from her shoulder. ‘You,’ she said to the black-skinned creature, ‘you stay with them.’
‘But—’
‘You can’t help here.’ She turned back to Zaifyr. ‘The three of you make for that tower. We will give you all the time we can to get there.’
‘Meina,’ he began.
‘Perhaps she is right,’ the Captain of Steel said, drawing her sword. ‘Maybe we were sent here to ensure that everything was kept the same. Maybe, but I only ever gave allegiance to those who could die like me.’
She ignored Anguish’s protest. Instead, she shouted an order to her soldiers – ‘Fall into lines!’ – an order that grabbed the attention of the broken pieces of Steel and pulled them together. The soldiers began to retreat, to push away Se’Saera’s soldiers, to step back from the god herself. In response, Se’Saera’s massive foot rose and she brought it thundering down, the clawed toes like half a dozen sabres. Zaifyr expected the men and women falling back to be crushed, for the colour to be stripped out of them, but as the foot thundered downwards, heavy shields rose, and the blow was halted. Se’Saera roared, and her left head came spearing down, but she caught nothing as the soldiers broke away.
‘She cannot defeat her,’ Anguish whispered harshly. ‘Qian – Zaifyr, do something!’
He ran to the left, down the inside of Heüala’s wall, Lor Jix behind him. On his shoulder, Anguish howled, but the charm-laced man did not stop. Behind him, he heard Meina shout again, but he did not turn around. A roar split the air, not just one, but three, and for reasons he could not identify, Zaifyr knew that Se’Saera’s roar came because she had noticed that he and Jix had left the battle, had sneaked down the side of the town, up a street, and begun running towards the tower.
On either side of the street, simple buildings sat. They were the kind Zaifyr had seen in a number of towns throughout his life, built from wood and brick. They had the same lifeless quality as the buildings around the gate, but it was not until towers began to appear between them that he realized that there were no shadows.
To his right, he heard a great rush of wind as Se’Saera lifted into the air.
He turned suddenly and, in doing so, almost lost Anguish. The small figure gripped on to his shirt, while behind him, Zaifyr heard Jix call out, demanding to know what he was doing. ‘Godling!’ the Captain of Wayfair cried out before Zaifyr shouldered one of the doors open. He paused in the doorway, turned and grabbed the ancient dead. As he did, the huge, dark form of Se’Saera rose high above Heüala.
‘Run for the back, run for the next street,’ he hissed to Jix, thrusting him into the house and following him. ‘We can cut across the lanes.’
He fell silent.
Around him, as if it were a giant, grassy lake, was an empty field, while above him a single, solitary sun shone.