Tom Lloyd - The Dusk Watchman

‘My heart is Menin; my master, Lord-’ Gaur faltered.

Vesna saw Gaur’s eyes flicker, and he felt a similar ache as he also sought the Menin lord’s name in his mind, but for Gaur it intensified and became waves of pain. The weight of grief struck with the force of a blow and the beastman shuddered and sagged under it all.

Insults he fails to note, but he still feels, Vesna realised. His mind is occupied by one thing alone. I could spit on his mother’s grave right now and he would hardly care.

‘I am a general of the Menin armies,’ Gaur said eventually, his rasping voice quieter than before. ‘I conduct myself accordingly.’

‘You act as any Menin-trained dog would,’ Vesna said contemptuously, ‘the chosen tribe of the War God, who prefer to win victory by trickery, who employ enemies of the Gods to assassinate your rivals. Your conduct might be as expected of a Menin officer, but that means little of value.’

Gaur again ignored the barb. ‘Am I to be prevented from meeting King Emin?’ he asked. ‘Does your king fear to face me?’

‘Not my king,’ Vesna growled, stepping closer, ‘and I couldn’t give a shit what he thinks of you. There’s some stink in the air that I don’t like. You move another step further without my permission and I’ll kill the lot of you where you stand.’

While the Menin officers cringed, the beastman looked at Vesna as though he’d not even heard the threat, let alone was unafraid of it. But before he could speak again, a voice called from the direction of the castle, and Mihn appeared, alone, come to investigate anything so strange that a Mortal-Aspect would send a vague warning before meeting it.

Vesna was watching Gaur’s eyes, and he saw them twitch Mihn’s way, just for a moment, but it was enough alter the beastman’s demeanour completely. Vesna stepped back and looked at Mihn. The small man was carrying his steel-capped staff as always, but he was barefoot, and wearing only a cropped shirt that displayed his tattoos.

‘The thief,’ hissed a voice from behind Gaur.

Vesna felt time slow as the scent of hot ashes filled his nose once more, and at last he recognised it as the memory of a winter’s day in Irienn Square in Tirah flashed across his mind: the day of Duke Certinse’s trial, and the daemon the duke’s mother had released.

‘Back to your lord!’ Vesna roared, drawing his sword, and his voice spurred Mihn into movement. The dormant spirit of the War God swelled inside the Mortal-Aspect, raising his voice beyond a shout as he called to the whole camp: ‘To arms!’

A slim shape darted from the shadow of one Menin officer, off to Vesna’s left, but he had no time to follow it for two huge figures were unfolding from the darkness. The Crystal Skull on his fist blazed with light as he retreated a few steps, but in the next instant four more had appeared: strange, angular bodies erupting from thin air as the officers fell to the floor.

The largest two advanced on Vesna, their crooked jaws hanging open with anticipation. Each bigger than a bear, their hides were covered in twisted overlapping plates of some green-tinted metal. Each forelimb ended in a pair of two-foot-long hooked talons. One dropped to the ground, preparing to spring, even as a dozen more daemons appeared from the shadows surrounding the Menin.

Gaur stepped forward. His eyes had changed, now slanting sharply and entirely bronze in colour. He shook his body and some of his thick fur fell from his body, revealing pale plates of chitin covering his broad shoulders. Gaur — or the daemon that had once been Gaur — moved forward awkwardly, leaning at an unnatural angle to peer at Vesna. His arm reached jerkily behind his back and tugged his axe free, while a javelin coalesced from the night air into the other hand.

‘An Aspect of a weakened God,’ the creature rasped. ‘Kill him!’

The two bear-like daemons started to circle Vesna, moving in opposite directions, while the rest spread left and right, to get around him and head up to the castle. Gaur gave Vesna a baleful look, then followed his minions, but Vesna didn’t see him go; he was already moving to attack.

The crouching daemon reared back in surprise as Vesna made up the ground in one leap, striking as he landed. His slash opened the beast’s belly and it howled and raked down with its huge talons. Vesna raised his armoured arm and caught the blow on the Skull in an explosion of white sparks.

The daemon shrieked at the contact, but its cries were cut short as Vesna went right and hacked up through its elbow, then, in the blink of an eye, thrust overhand with all his strength, driving the point of his broadsword into the daemon’s throat. The enchanted blade tore right through; there was a great gout of ichor, and the daemon was dead before it hit the ground.

Its comrade dropped to all fours to leap and use its greater size. Vesna was preparing to jump aside, but he hesitated as the power of the Crystal Skull screamed to be used: the image of a white ball of fire appeared in his mind, and in the next moment the night air was split by raging energies.

Before the daemon could move it was consumed by flames so bright even Vesna had to turn away. As it died away one of the squads of guards was running forward, their spears lowered. He left them to finish it off and turned to face the more dangerous enemy.

‘Gaur!’ he roared, running after the pale daemon, obvious amidst the darker bodies of its kin. A gust of chill wind swept down over him, momentarily washing away the stink of daemon from the air, but then the Gaur daemon stopped and faced him, leaving the rest of the daemons scampering on towards the castle.

As the lead demon stood up straight and regarded Vesna, the shining bronze of its eyes burned through the night and Vesna felt a sudden, overpowering sense of loathing. His divine side recoiled from the creature’s stench even as his hand tightened on his sword, aching to strike.

As the two closed the ground between them with quick, careful steps, Vesna recognised the challenge for what it was, and knew that none of the soldiers would dare interfere in this.

‘So the Gods have found themselves another champion,’ the daemon said contemptuously. ‘How long before they cast you aside too?’

‘Long enough.’

‘So you say now, but your Gods are easily bored; soon you will find their promises empty, and you will see that their strength is spent in this Land.’

‘And yet you fear to incarnate fully as you come seeking your revenge. You wear a mortal’s form — that is who will die when I slay you — yet you send your minions without any such protection.’ Vesna laughed. ‘Spare me your coward’s words; my soul is not for sale, daemon.’

‘Are you so sure?’ It stopped and cocked its head at Vesna, tasting the air with its long tongue. ‘You wear grief like a mantle, a loss most raw.’

‘Enough!’ Vesna yelled, feeling the daemon’s words like a punch to the gut. He took a breath, knowing it was feeding off his pain and sensing his vulnerabilities, but unable to suppress his feelings.

‘Would you like to see her face again?’ the daemon continued, its voice husky with laden promise. ‘Hold her in your arms?’

‘Such a thing is beyond your power,’ Vesna growled. ‘It is beyond all power: Death is the final arbiter.’

‘Are you so sure? Her death was recent: I can tell that from the scent of your grief.’ The daemon edged closer and lowered its voice. ‘What if her soul still walks Ghain’s slope? My hunters can find her and bring her to me. That is within my power.’

Vesna shook his head, unable to speak as the memory of Tila appeared in his mind, her beautiful face marked by a single spot of blood, the smile that lit up rooms twisted into a grimace of agony.