in surprise, even as he realised it was Telasin who’d spoken. It was the first time he’d heard the secretive Raylin mercenary speak.
‘Five,’ he whispered.
‘Keep clear.’
Veil bit down the question on his lips as Telasin met his gaze for the first time since they’d met. The former Devoted officer hadn’t spoken the entire time he’d been among the Brotherhood. His head had remained bowed in shame and he’d allowed Daken to answer for him whenever words had been necessary.
In the darkness it was hard to make out much of Telasin’s face beyond a broken nose and a strange difference between his eyes: either they were markedly different colours, or one was milky with blindness. He was older than Veil; a hard forty winters showed in that face.
Veil had an image blossom suddenly in his mind: yellowed ivory skin and long black tusks, rusting rings in the flesh of his cheek, and an eye that burned with orange flames. Veil fell backwards in horror, barely able to stop himself from crying out in shock.
Telasin didn’t wait to see if he’d made enough noise to warn the Menin patrol; he had already leaped silently out into the street and gone on the attack. Veil scrabbled to follow the daemon-touched soldier, but as he rounded the corner and saw Telasin engaging all five Menin he faltered. A black cloud swirled around them all, shadows whipping up from the ground. Telasin’s cloak lifted high in the sudden gust, revealing tarnished bronze scale-armour, as he hacked at one of the Menin and parried another in the same moment.
In a heartbeat the entire group was obscured by darkness. Veil could do nothing but wait, listening to the muted clash of steel. A hot, greasy wind swept across his face, bringing a sudden stink of sulphur and decay. Both Dirr and Veil gagged as the unnatural hot air enveloped them, and in the next breath it was gone. Veil dry-retched once more and opened his eyes to see Telasin standing over five brutally slain corpses, a red-tinged glow playing about his shoulders.
‘Gods,’ Veil and Dirr said in the same breath. As they spoke they felt a distant tremble underfoot and a crack of thunder split the sky.
‘Don’t just fuckin’ stand there,’ Daken snapped as he caught them up, giving both men a shove. He pointed to their right, where Veil saw a sudden red glow in the distance. ‘That’s Litania, that is; she’s havin’ her fun now.’
Veil blinked and realised the thunder hadn’t come from the sky at all; it had been somewhere in Breakale and loud enough that it might have been an entire building collapsing. Daken gave a coarse laugh and went on ahead, clapping a comradely hand on Telasin’s shoulder. The man jumped like he’d been stung and lowered his weapons, head bowed.
‘Five for you, eh? I got me some catchin’ up to do!’
Veil upped the pace of his scouting ahead. In the distance an orange glow grew steadily, he guessed somewhere close to the Breakale-Hale gates. When they reached the gate into Eight Towers he found it half-open, but guarded by both a squad of Menin soldiers and some Byoran troops.
Veil passed a signal back and hunkered down to wait for support, which came in the form of Cetarn, the oversized Narkang mage. As usual, he wore a cheery grin on his face, as though what they were about was nothing more than high jinks.
‘What have you got for me?’ Veil whispered.
‘A little misdirection should do,’ Cetarn replied.
The mage’s attempt to keep his voice low sounded painfully loud to Veil, but he ignored it as Cetarn made him stand upright. Muttering under his breath, Cetarn ran a fleshy hand over Veil’s head before repeating the process over himself. That done, the big mage grabbed Veil’s arm and dragged him out into full view of the soldiers.
‘We don’t look any different,’ Veil hissed, watching the soldiers notice them.
‘Not up close, no,’ Cetarn said cheerfully, ‘but at a distance, trust me — we appear to be the most magnificently blessed young ladies those men have seen in a long while.’
Veil almost choked at the notion, and he would have tripped on the cobbles had Cetarn not had a firm grip on him.
‘That’s a good idea; don’t we look so pretty and drunk?’ Cetarn commented brightly.
Veil recovered himself in time to see four dark shapes ghosting through the shadows on the other side of the street, evading the soldiers’ notice. When Veil and Cetarn were ten