him and Arkhan spat hoarse syllables as he unleashed his magics. A vampire screeched as it was engulfed in black fire and reduced to a charred skeleton. He swept his arms out, creating a wall of flame between him and them, driving the creatures back in a spitting, hissing mass. But not all of the creatures retreated; through the flames came a black, feline shape, yellow-eyed and snarling.
The cat smashed into him, its claws raking his mouldy clothes and scraping bone. As he grabbed for it, its shape expanded, lengthening and stretching with a sound like butchery in reverse, until the vampire called Naaima was gripping his skull between two deceptively powerful palms. He felt his skull flex in her grip and prepared to flense the meat from her bones with a word. But, as suddenly as she had attacked, the vampire was again a cat, which eeled out of his clutches and padded away. Arkhan spun. Neferata lay sprawled on the steps, watching him as the cat climbed into her arms.
‘Impressive,’ Neferata said, stroking the cat. She quirked an eyebrow mockingly as he stalked towards her. A dim flicker of anger pulsed through him, but quickly faded. He relaxed, letting the threads of magic he had bound to him unravel.
‘Was that another test of my worth?’ he grated, gesturing to his sword where it lay on the floor. It shuddered and shot towards his hand. He sheathed it with a flourish. Neferata clapped.
‘No,’ she said. ‘It was a reminder of your place.’
Arkhan said nothing, waiting for her to continue. She sniffed. ‘This is my place of power, liche. Not yours and certainly not Nagash’s. He is old and brittle and not what he once was–’
‘He is more,’ Arkhan interjected.
Neferata paused. ‘Perhaps… The fact remains, he holds no power here.’
‘He will not accept that,’ Arkhan said, looming over her. Neferata gazed up at him, unconcerned.
‘He will have to,’ she said, rising, still holding the cat. ‘Neferata serves no man, whether he’s dead or alive.’
‘He will command you, as he commands me,’ Arkhan said, his eyes blazing. ‘You will have no choice…’
‘I have defied Nagash’s will before,’ Neferata said. ‘I have defied and defeated his servants and I will do so again to hold on to what is mine.’
Arkhan stood silently, watching her. Then, in a whisper, he said, ‘Tell me…’
ONE
Lahmia, the City of the Dawn
(–1170 Imperial Reckoning)
Lahmia burned and Neferata ran.
Quicker than thought, with no more weight than a shadow, she ran, and the city died around her, one street at a time. Black smoke weighed down the air and hungry flames crawled across the stone and clay and thatch. There was an ache in her chest, though whether it was from the destruction of all that she had built or the dagger that had so recently been thrust into her heart by Alcadizzar she couldn’t say.
Behind her, hooves thundered suddenly in pursuit. She heard the calls of the riders; they thought her easy sport, one more lost woman in a fallen city. One more woman to be served as always happened when cities fell. Pale lips skinned back, revealing teeth like razors, and dark eyes flashed. Rage, sudden and overwhelming, hammered at her temples, and she skidded to a stop, dust and smoke curling around her slender frame.
Clad in ragged silks and ruined armour, she spun to face the riders, fingers hooked like the talons of a lioness and her jaws wide, her fangs flashing in the light of the fires that curled and crackled around her. The lead horseman jerked back on his reins, his eyes widening in surprise. There were three more behind him, clamouring for a share of the spoils.
Then, in a whip-crack of startled air, she was moving. She swung low, letting a spear skid over her shoulder. It scored a trail of sparks across the back-plate of her iron cuirass as she drove her shoulder into the horse’s chest. It bugled in surprise and reared, hooves gouging the air. Snarling, Neferata sliced open the animal’s exposed belly with her claws. The horse screamed and toppled, carrying its rider with it. The man’s screams joined those of his mount as he was crushed beneath its weight, but Neferata didn’t stay to listen.
One foot on the dying animal’s thrashing hindquarter was enough to propel her into the air. She swam through the smoke, piercing it like a stone from a sling. Her hands and feet caressed the long skull of the next horse as her weight