Mark Newton - The Book of Transformations

People, who Lan guessed had something to do with the iren, were loitering. Wealthy types, judging from the looks of them, in regal tunics and dresses. All of them desperate to meet the new celebrities. ‘This is bizarre,’ Lan whispered to Tane.

‘I love it,’ Tane replied, shaking hands with some of the traders. ‘It’s why I love the taverns so much. I can’t quite get enough of the adoration.’ Then, to those gathered to one side, ‘Nice to meet you. Sorry, must be on my way.’

‘Tane,’ Vuldon snapped, ‘watch them closely. See anything remotely strange act on it.’

‘I am, big guy, I am. I can hear dozens of conversations. I can do this stuff without even thinking about it, and meanwhile I’m still on the lookout.’

‘You good, Lan?’ Vuldon demanded.

‘Yeah.’ Lan was now peering into the deepening crowd as their noise swelled to fever pitch.

A shaven-headed man in his thirties, wearing a dark-brown hood, came to her side — and he was pleading with Lan for a kiss; an admirer. She ignored him at first, didn’t want to make a scene here, but he laughed perversely.

‘You look jus’ fine in that outfit,’ he drawled, then groped for her breasts.

Lan grabbed his outstretched arm, punched his stomach, and he buckled over. Finding reserves of strength that surprised even herself, she grabbed him by the hair, yanking him back, and clutched his throat. She snarled into his alcohol-reeking face: ‘You leave me alone, right?’

The man squirmed a nod, and she pushed him away. Clawing his throat, he vanished into the masses.

‘Well handled,’ Vuldon said, without a hint of sarcasm. ‘Bet being a woman in your position surprises you somewhat.’

‘Fuck you.’

On through the horde, shadowing the city guard, who opened out behind a platform overlooking the lower floors in this vast atrium. Above there were two huge skylights, latticed with wood, and made from the most remarkably clear glass Lan had ever seen. The building felt as airy as an outside iren. A faint cough of a pipe as the new fire-grain heating system imported from Villiren continued to pump warmth around the place. This is simply stunning…

Upon seeing the Emperor above them, the audience fell into a hush.

He cleared his throat and paused. ‘This is a momentous day. One of progress…’

While he recited a prepared script from memory, the Knights moved into position behind the city guard and across to the opposite side, gaining a better perspective on the events. Shops were layered on three floors, nearing a hundred units in all, mainly clothing-sellers and milliners, but also everything from designer carpenters to weapon-smiths, with a few bistros scattered about.

‘… from the latest materials developed with the assistance of cultists, utilizing the great ancient technologies of millennia past..’

Around the sides of this highest level, marksmen crouched with loaded crossbows. One of them glanced her way and nodded, before allowing his gaze to settle on the throng below. As the Emperor continued his oratory, Lan, too, began scanning the crowd for any signs of trouble.

It seemed impossible to know what signs to look for. Everyone had been searched on entry and any weapons confiscated — an act all the more ironic considering that expensive blades would soon be on sale here. Lan noticed personnel sporting the new Shelby Corporation colours, white belts bright against the dark-red uniforms. It seemed they were guarding some of the more impressive-looking shops.

She focused on people’s hands, whether or not they were in pockets, about to draw out something, people nudging those next to them, people gesturing across the atrium.

Through the glass, she saw something up on the roof. Possibly a pterodette or a garuda on patrol?

A noise below caught her attention. Someone had knocked over one of the grand portraits. Laughter frothed up around that corner and a man was hauled to his feet, peering around sheepishly whilst members of the city guard restored the work to its place on the wall. He was escorted from the premises.

The Emperor continued his speech with no pause, his voice carrying across the distance of the atrium. People stood listening in earnest. Again, Lan caught movement — something on the roof.

Moving through the press of guards surrounding them she reached Tane and Vuldon, who were scanning the crowd below.

‘I’m going up onto the roof,’ she said. ‘Is there a way to get there without drawing too much attention?’

‘Only the way we came,’ Vuldon whispered, his gaze flitting about the iren. ‘You need support?’

‘I don’t know. Just a hunch.’

‘Fine. Well, we’ll stay here for now.’

Lan peered back up over the doorway, and could see the roof extending back overhead, so she gripped the frame and, using her circus skills more than her powers, she quietly hauled herself up to the higher level.

Crouched by the guttering, wind pummelled her, sending her dark hair flailing around her face, and she pulled the strands aside and under control. Ahead in the distance, the towers of the city soared into a fine mist.

The roof was curved slightly, banking upwards, constructed mainly from a slate-like material, but one which possessed more grip. Some distance ahead, Lan could see the two vast skylights which focused light into the iren. Each must have been twenty feet across.

And there, crawling along the outside of a skylight was something

… some kind of creature. She shifted along the perimeter of the roof to gain a better perspective, being careful not to catch its attention. From behind she could see its body, a brown and leathery skinned beast, twice the length of a human, with four squat legs, a stub of a tail.

Lan’s foot caught a loose tile and she slipped; the creature froze, then turned to face her, an image of surreal horror: there was nothing but a vast mouth, no eyes, nose or ears that she could discern, just layered rows of teeth set in a slobbering maw.

The thing tromped on the spot, rotating its fat body. It snorted thick gloop by its feet. Then with a surprising, lumbering speed it charged towards her. When it was less than a few paces away Lan leapt up hovering in the air. The creature reared up, chomping at the air, but couldn’t stop itself from sliding over the edge of the roof and, moments later, came the sound of its mass slapping against the cobbles below.

Lan lowered herself and looked over the edge of the building. Down below, in a vacant alley, the thing had become a purple aggregation of blood, offal and pulp.

What the hell was that?

Lan scanned the rooftop but could see nothing else. She scurried along the edge of the roof, peering over the side.

At the rear of the iren, a small huddle of figures dressed in dark clothing with scarves across their faces were surrounded by buckets of water. She watched as they placed a hand-sized, dark lump before them, and poured one of the buckets of water over the top. Suddenly the small mass began to lurch and convulse, contorting itself in all directions, and swelling into something altogether larger.

It ballooned into the precise form of the creature that had attacked her moments earlier, then one of the three — now clearly holding a sword for protection — kicked it so it tottered forwards, out of the alley, up a wall and out of sight. The figure returned to the others, who tilted up a sack to empty out one final dark mass, only to repeat the process.

Screams and manic calls for help started to erupt from the inside; she could feel the hysteria through the roof.

Lan took a leap off the edge of the building. She hung in the air — positioning herself — and then she allowed herself to fall at a velocity that wouldn’t be quick enough to injure her, but certainly hurt the three down below. She collapsed into two of them, catching one on the back of the skull, another in the chest, and they both lay still, dead or unconscious. The third figure swung wildly with a sword, but Lan tuned into her powers to funnel out a blast of energy, repelling the weapon and sending it clattering behind. She followed up with two swift punches to the stomach, kicked the figure’s face, and her victim collapsed backwards.