broke its neck and knocked it down. The rider drew the curved blade at his side as the animal fell and her palm caught him in the jaw. Bone splintered and burst at her touch and he catapulted backwards as she snatched the sword from his hand.
A spear skipped across her pale cheek, releasing a trickle of black, sour blood, and she shrieked, battering the weapon aside with her new sword. She twisted and spun as the horseman charged past her, and caught the blade of his companion’s spear as it dipped for her belly. She wrenched it and its wielder from the saddle and slammed him to the ground. Stamping on his throat, she yanked the spear from his grip and sent it slicing through the air towards the remaining horseman.
His horse bucked and kicked as it fled past her, back the way it had come, dragging the body of its rider behind it. Neferata touched the wound on her cheek. It was already closing. Hunger flared through her, causing her vision to dim and redden at the edges.
She was tired. And hungry as well; she hadn’t fed in what felt like days. Behind her, she heard the jangling rattle-call of a ram’s horn and the stomp of marching feet. The riders hadn’t been alone. She looked at the sword in her hand and her grip tightened. She had time. They were not so close that they could catch her. She could escape.
Or she could fight them. She could fight all of them. They would never find her, never catch her. She could kill them all, one by one, until they fled the city. She closed her eyes, imagining it. Then she snorted and shook her head.
‘No,’ she said. ‘No, I couldn’t could I?’ Not alone at least. Alone, she was nothing more than a monster. The word pricked her like a hornet’s sting and she growled. No, she needed to flee. To rebuild and regain what she had lost here, somewhere else.
A moan caught her attention. She swayed towards the first horseman she had downed. The animal was dead, but its rider lived, albeit crushed. He groaned and shoved at the beast feebly. One arm was pinned beneath the horse’s weight, and his face was turning purple. Something in him had been broken, she knew. She could smell it rising off him like the sweet tang of roasted pork.
Neferata stabbed the sword down into the ground and sank into a crouch. The rider’s eyes bulged as she crawled slowly across the horse’s body towards him, her eyes gleaming like twin black suns. She drank in the rank musk of his fear as she reached for him, the tips of her fingers caressing his cheeks and chin. He was barely more than a boy.
Hunger spiked and her grip tightened. He squealed as she jerked his head to the side and exposed his pulsing throat. Neferata laughed as she buried her fangs into the sweetness of him. The tang of his blood filled her nostrils, inundating her senses…
The Worlds Edge Mountains
(–800 Imperial Reckoning)
The dream-recollection evaporated, taking with it the memory of heat and blood. Its remnants were brushed aside by something cold and dark that reached out of the shadowy place between waking and sleeping for her. It was malevolence carried on musty wings of alien intent. There was a sound like crows on a battlefield in the dusk and a harsh whining moan that seemed to echo from everywhere and nowhere.
She saw the Corpse Geometries – though she did not know how she knew their name – rise and expand across the soul of everything, caging the rebellious ka and keeping them safe and bound from outer predation. All was silent. All was perfect.
Come, Neferata… Come, Queen of Lahmia!
Cold talons clutched at her, seeking to draw her back down into the dark of sleep. The foul taste of grave-soil filled her mouth and a voice like needles scoring bone spoke, scratching a litany of cold fire across her mind.
Neferata awoke.
Her eyes opened and she grunted. Gone was the sensation of being dragged down into unknown depths, replaced by the sting of cold and the gnawing ache of the bloodthirst. Whiteness filled her vision, gleaming in the moonlight. She rose to her feet, scattering the blanket of snow that had covered her and protected her from the harsh light of day. She wore white furs and her hair was bound back in a single thick plait that tumbled down her