The Emperor's Legion (Watchers of the Throne #1) - Chris Wraight Page 0,89

and nor could they dissipate the auras of destruction created by the shedim. That was our task. We had always gone into battle alongside them, draining the most potent aspect of our enemy from them, reducing them to the purely physical. I had heard it said that there was nothing purely physical that a Custodian could not kill, and so we complemented one another perfectly.

Later, when I learned more of their ways and had to listen to them tell me over and over again how much they carried the guilt of the past on their shoulders, I wondered if our own role might have been deliberately suppressed. Perhaps it was easier for them to retreat into the Palace while we withered away in the void, ­erasing the old patterns so they’d never have to be reminded how we used to wage war.

I don’t really think that’s what happened. Bitterness can give you strange ideas, though.

Right then, of course, I had no time to speculate about anything. We were far from any kind of support, lost amid the seething morass of hateful and dangerous shedim. We were hardly defenceless, but there were only five of us and our lander’s bolter-feed would soon run out of shells.

I had to make a decision quickly. I looked at the walls – too far away, despite the advancing lines of defenders. I looked out at the city behind us – just as distant, and aside from some cover, lacking any advantage. I looked towards the centre of the battlefield – an absolute pit of horror, presided over by eight massive shaitainn with their bunched arms, withered wings and dripping black horns.

I might have laughed at the pointlessness of it, had I not caught a flash of silver, followed by a briefer flash of gold, more than two hundred metres away through a forest of clutching daemonkind but obviously still fighting.

That was it. That was our best chance of surviving more than a few seconds. I signalled to my sisters, some of whom had seen the same opportunity. We charged into contact, slamming into the oncoming tide of greasy shedim, hurling our greatblades around us in withering arcs.

Throne, but it was terrible fighting. We blunted the worst of their soul-cracking aura, but that still left creatures of iron-bound sinew and steel-pinned teeth. They carried their own crude blades forged from blunt iron, and every time I countered their blows I felt my bones jar.

This was not the task we had been made for. We were witch-hunters, seekers of shadows, fast-moving and lightly armoured. One-on-one we could slaughter these things, but the numbers would get to us eventually.

My blade churned faster, desperately, propelled now two-handed. We formed into a tight knot, fighting back-to-back and pushing as fast as we dared across the open terrain.

They hated us, those things. They hated us even more than the Custodians who so brutally carved them apart, because all the shedim could do was kill our bodies, and that had no appeal for creatures nourished by the torture of souls. I think we horrified them more than anything else. I think we drew more than our share towards us, and that just made me angrier the longer we were out there.

I felt slime splatter across my exposed forehead, and it sizzled acidly on my skin. A cleaver snagged on my calf, biting through my armour nearly down to the flesh. My cloak was ripped into tatters, my breastplate smacked by a blow that nearly upended me.

Sister Jeranda was the first to be killed, bringing up our rear. I didn’t see it happen but I heard the anguished scream. I finished off the mess of slime and scales that was going for my throat before I could turn to see them drag her into their midst and begin the feast.

We couldn’t reach her. I felt my vision go black. I felt my fury roar out of me, spiralling and augmenting.

In another age, I might have cried out that fury, but I still had my vow, so redoubled the savagery of my assault. I ripped out teeth, I broke backs, I stripped the skin from their bones and flung the carcasses aside. We all did the same, fighting in a way that could not last, for we were mortal after all, and those we cut into could do this forever.

But we did enough. We broke fast through the horde, shriving them of their greatest gifts and finishing the task with our greatblades. Soon I