‘Can’t have that, can we? I need more time.’ She looked at her handmaiden. ‘See to the advance. Morath and the others need to hurry. I will see to the rest.’

‘Are you—’ Naaima began, casting a dark look at Khaled. She reached up, almost but not quite touching Neferata. Neferata grabbed her hand.

‘Go,’ she said. ‘And hurry.’

Naaima nodded and turned, sprinting into the snow. Neferata tightened her grip on her sword and threw herself into the red sea of battle. Khaled was carving a wet path to Borri, who seemed determined not to allow the invasion of his hold to progress further. A rotting wolf lunged out of the confusion towards the king, but Grund slapped it from the air and crushed its skull to powder with his foot. More horns were sounding now, so many that the stone seemed to vibrate with their sound. There were more guards in the high places, and crossbow bolts dropped like rain. Nearby, a wolf stumbled and fell, its unnaturally invigorated form looking like a hedgehog for all the bolts jutting from it. Neferata swatted a bolt from the air and searched for her former servant.

Khaled spat Arabyan oaths as his sword chopped down on a dwarf. He kicked the body aside and then the way was clear, save for the mad-eyed Grund. Nostrils flaring, the red-bearded dwarf made to face Khaled, but Borri stopped him with a look. ‘No, this is not your doom,’ Borri said. Grund cursed, his lips writhing back from rows of filed teeth.

‘Let me have my doom, brother!’ he shrieked, his muscles rippling with tension. The raw agony in his voice gave pause even to Khaled, who hesitated. ‘Please,’ Grund spat, as if the word were a razor, slicing his throat to shreds even as it escaped.

‘No,’ Borri said. He pointed his hammer at Khaled. ‘This is my kill.’ As Grund stepped back Khaled trotted forwards, more confident now, and Borri waited with his son’s axe in one hand and a hammer in the other. ‘Come on then, corpse-eater,’ Borri said. ‘Some of us have kingdoms to run.’

Khaled obliged, diving forwards like a bird of prey, his sword extended. Borri took a half-step back, his hammer beating the blow aside and his axe ringing off Khaled’s pauldron, staggering the vampire. The hammer swam upwards, the edge of the head catching Khaled on the chin. Borri moved even faster than his son, Neferata realised. Then, Razek had been a diplomat, not a warrior. Borri was a king of the old style — a warrior down to his very bones.

He had fought elves once, in an age when men hid in caves, and likely worse things. Khaled, for all the inhuman ferocity that flowed from him, was as nothing to the things that Borri had seen in his darkest moments, Neferata knew.

Khaled staggered back, his shattered jaw re-knitting itself. Neferata tensed, hoping that Borri could finish the job. It would make things simpler in the long run. But such was not to be. Khaled, aware of what he faced now, avoided the next blow and his sword lightly stroked the side of Borri’s face, opening a gash that stretched from jowl to brow. The dwarf didn’t hesitate, barrelling into the vampire, who squirmed backwards, letting his sword dart out to prick the dwarf’s face and uncovered arms.

Neferata hissed. Khaled was attempting to draw Borri away from his guard. Once out of the protective envelope of steel and muscle, he would be surrounded, cut off and brought down. Khaled wasn’t playing champion, he was playing bait. With the king dead, it was very likely that the dwarfs would retreat. And with Borri dead, taking the hold would be an easier, quicker affair. And Neferata couldn’t allow that.

She flew across the distance separating her from the combatants. She threw herself in among the hammerers, cutting down one with a grunt of effort. Even as strong as she was, cutting through the solid mass of an armoured dwarf was no easy task. A hammer connected with her hip, cracking bone, and she turned her stumble into a leap, crashing into Khaled and sending them both flying. Borri’s guards raced to surround their lord and Khaled was forced to slither out of reach of their weapons.

Her former servant glared murder at her, but she pretended not to see. Her sword sliced out, cutting the head from a hammerer, and then she was up and limping back.

‘What were you—’ Khaled raged, grabbing her arm. Neferata shook him loose.

‘Keep the gate open, fool!’ she snapped, gesturing to the winch mechanism that controlled the gate. Several dwarfs were attempting to fight their way towards it. Khaled uttered a snarl and bounded towards them, his sword snicker-snacking out to relieve one of the warriors of his bearded head. Neferata grinned and turned back to Borri. The king’s eyes met hers, and she knew that he knew that the dwarfs were going to lose control of the gate. ‘Fall back, mighty king,’ she murmured. ‘Stall with all of your might. Make us pay in blood for every metre.’

As if he had heard her, Borri’s eyes narrowed. Then he raised his hand. One of his hammerers put a curling ram’s-horn to his lips and blew a single, sorrowful note. The remaining dwarfs in the gallery began to fall back, even as they attempted to pull themselves into something resembling a battle-order. The sound of great pistons shook the chamber and Neferata looked up. Some dwarfs scrambled across the balconies, moving pulleys and wheels into motion even as others covered the retreat of their fellows with another barrage of crossbow bolts.

‘What in Usirian’s name are they doing?’ a vampire snarled as she plucked a bolt from her thigh. Neferata snorted.

‘Exactly what I supposed they’d do. They’re sealing the entry hall.’

‘We have to stop them!’ Khaled snarled, gesturing with his sword.

‘No, not us,’ Neferata said. She turned her face to the snowy wind. A thin black shape galloped through the doorway on a horse that was nothing but bone and balefire. Morath glared about him with hollow eyes as his arrival scattered the gathered vampires. The snow turned to steam as it touched him. Large leather-winged shapes joined him, swooping up towards the balconies with predatory shrieks.

‘Just in time,’ Neferata said, sheathing her sword.

‘It took more than I suspected to keep the bats flying in the storm. Even dead flesh and necromancy have their limits,’ Morath said, watching as the fell-bats attacked the dwarfs above. One by one, they either retreated or died, and soon not one living dwarf remained in the entry hall.

A moment later, the chamber resounded with the sounds of the inner doors of the hold slamming shut as one.

The siege of the Silver Pinnacle had begun.

FIFTEEN

The village clung to the rocky coast, a swift wind from the shores of Sartosa. Neferata leapt from the galley even as it crunched into the soft sand. She wore dark robes over her armour, as did her followers. Naaima, having no taste for such things, had stayed behind. Khaled and Anmar, however, had been eager to come. The siblings followed her up across the shore, their expressions hungry.

‘An exquisite plan, my queen,’ Khaled murmured. ‘We shall lull the druchii into complacency and then strike.’

‘We will strike, won’t we? I detest those creatures,’ Anmar said. ‘I detest handing people over to them even more.’ The young woman looked pensive. There was no moon and a thick mist crept inland from the sea, obscuring them from anyone who might have been watching.

‘Rather than feasting on them yourself, you mean,’ Khaled countered, grinning.

‘Among other reasons,’ Anmar said primly.

‘Yes, it is a detestable business, but it is necessary,’ Neferata said. ‘We must ensure our influence takes root in the senate, and we need allies among the old ruling class. Sparing their people the druchii levy will see to that.’