The Curse of the Winged Scorpion
Raiders being Raiders

Herfall from the Dagoman’s window was over before it even began. Fantel twistedlike a cat, getting her legs underneath her before landing feet first ontosolid ground in a predator’s crouch. The impact thrummed through her muscles,chasing up her spine, but did not hurt her. She raised her head and looked upona scene of utter chaos.

“Backstabbing arse-licking Imperials – this is your doing.”

Twomen grappled for control of a rifle, scant feet from where she had landed. Oneof the combatant’s was almost as wide as he was tall, a veritable beast of aman, with a mane of wiry salt and pepper hair, thick muscled forearms, and abarrel chest straining to break free of the confines of an ill-fittingbottle-green frock coat. The other man, the one who had hollered the insult,was much smaller. His dusky skin was flushed almost as red as his short croppedhair. He wore the pastel coloured loose cotton shirt and cropped trouserspopularised by city dwellers in Remenes and an elaborate set of brass knuckles,spiked like griffin heads, already spattered with blood.

“Haaiiii-yaaaaaaa.”Out of nowhere a small woman in brilliant orange silk robes launched herselfthrough the air hitting the man with the brass knuckles dead in the back. Heand the woman fell to the ground, the woman swinging a double ended flail asshe rode the man down to the marble inlaid floor. The man with the rifle, whohad proved far more nimble than a man of his bulk had any right to, deftlystepped away from the scuffle. He hefted the rifle to one shoulder, his lonejaundiced eye peeping out of a creased and leathery face. He scanned the room,searching for something or someone, then ambled away, slipping around an ornatemarble pillar into a shadowed corner of the large chamber.

Fantellooked around. The room she was in must, once, have been a fairly sumptuouslyappointed gathering place. Now it looked like a freak hurricane had tornthrough the high-ceilinged chamber, shredding everything in its wake.Exquisitely woven rugs stitched into eye catching geometric designs lay inwrinkled piles over the smooth pinkish-white marble tiles and a number of lowto the floor mosaic tables had been overturned. Vibrantly dyed silk cushionslay scattered across the floor and silk drapes hung in tatters from the walls.Puddles of vinegary spilt wine dotted the floor and soaked into the carpets.Wisps of phantasma mist clung to the air, not as thick as in Einar’s privaterooms, but still dangerous. Throughout the room strange men and women, almostexclusively human, did their level best to kill each other. Fantel had jumpedout of the window of the Dagoman’s private rooms and straight into the midst ofhis Raider guests, and true to form, as soon as they had heard the commotioncoming from above the gathered Raiders had reacted with indiscriminateviolence.

“Bloop.”

Theautomaton hovered above her head, violet eye beam steady on her face; a coronaof violet hued energy encircled the machine in a shimmering globe. Fantel’snose twitched. The power radiating from the automaton was like nothing she hadseen or felt before. It made her back teeth ache like low power Phantasmaengines but lacked the vicious bite of unrestrained phantom mist. Fantel roseto her feet. The automaton did not appear to mean her harm.

“Bl-bloop,”the automaton blinked at her, its eye beam flashing on and off so fast Fantelalmost missed it. A hatch opened in the front of the machine and a smallappendage emerged. Fantel hadn’t time to do more than flinch before thewand-like devise with the glowing yellow tip struck the metal cuff of theshackle on her right wrist. A quiver of energy danced up her wrist to herelbow, leaving a flutter of aftershocks in its wake. A second later the shacklepopped open falling from her thin wrist to dangle by the connecting chain.Fantel blinked down at her freed wrist in surprise.

“Bloop-bloop,”the automaton bobbed in the air, eye beam swirling excitedly. Fantel could notshake the peculiar sensation that the machine was pleased with itself. There was something like smugself-satisfaction evident in the blinking of that violet beam. She shook herhead, dismissing such foolishness from her mind.

“Youdie now!”

Thesound of shattering glass, a stifled oath and a loud crash snapped herattention back to her surroundings. She ducked and rolled as a body sailedthrough the air and crashed into one of the low tables. The man with the brassknuckles was barely recognisable as human now, lying in a disordered heap ofbroken limbs.

Ather back someone roared. Fantel spun around, dodging instinctively as a hugemeaty fist arced through the empty space where her head had been a split-secondearlier. “I will smash you,” An Ogdegra man, eight feet tall if he was an inch,with arms wider than the average sapling, snarled in her face. The Ogdegre’sgreen hued skin was mottled and dark with rage, his yellow eyes maddened withblood lust. One of the foot-long horns curving gracefully up out of his browridge had been snapped off. No doubt the agony of losing a horn had caused theOgdegre to go berserk with pain. Fantel dropped to the ground, braced on herelbows and forearms and kicked up with both legs. She drove the balls of herfeet into the Ogdegre’s groin. The giant’s mouth fell open in a silent howl ofpain and he doubled up, knees crumpling. Fantel rolled smoothly to her feet,side-stepped, raised the dangling shackle in her left hand and whirled it aboveher head. She brought the make-shift flail down on the back of the Ogdegre’shead before he had chance to stand.

“Bloop-bloop.”

Theautomaton buzzed at her shoulder, moved off a few feet and then rotated in theair to face her again. Fantel realised that it wanted her to follow it. Lackingviable alternatives Fantel did as bid. Above her head she heard Einar howlingwith insensate rage. Fantel wasted no more time. A soft breeze rippling abullet ridden drape denoted the presence of a concealed door. Fantel ended upin yet another windowless corridor, this one painted in shades of eye-wateringaquamarine. The angry scowl of a bronze cast Mishman, complete with many limbsand several pairs of painted eyes glowered at her from an altar set up at thefar end of the corridor.

“Bloop.”The automaton stopped at another Anima locked door. Fantel’s shoulders saggedin defeat at the sight of the implacable red sensor pad. Had she come this faronly to be trapped by a door? “Bloup. Blup. Bloop.” The automaton began toshudder and the odd corona of energy haloing its form rippled, fading away onlyto shimmer to life again an instant later in a different colour. Fantel grittedher teeth against the ache in her back molars. The automaton’s eye beam blinkedout, and a tiny metal object, so small that if Fantel hadn’t been standingright beside it she wouldn’t have been able to see that it was in fact aperfect miniature replica of the automaton, popped out of the eye-slit; thetiny metal sphere, no bigger than a ball bearing, was enveloped in its ownbubble of energy. It was one of the same firefly sized projectiles that hadattacked Einar’s presence chamber. Fantel watched unblinking as the tinyfloating metal sphere drifted down to land on the sensor pad. As soon as itlanded the energy surrounding the thing changed colour, from a deep mauve to analmost shocking yellow. The sensor pad whirred and clicked, the surface of thesensor flashing from red to green as the lock released.

“Bloop.”The miniature automaton lifted off the pad and returned to the larger one,disappearing back inside like a honey bee drone returning to the hive. Fantelshook her head to clear it. She didn’t have to time to wonder over what she hadjust seen. She shoved open the door and dashed through, the automaton buzzingalong at her back. She was in the servants’ wing. The tantalising tang ofcooking meat and spices tickled her nostrils as she dashed through a largekitchen, ignoring the gasps of startled servants. She burst out of an unlockeddoor into a small outside courtyard. She skidded to a halt in front of the bodyof a Dha-hali man. He stared up at her with wide, glassy eyes, his expressionfrozen into a mask of infinite surprise for all eternity. A tracery of fineblack lines, like a mesh of scorched capillaries, ran under his sallow flesh. Astarburst of blood covered his abdomen. He’d been shot, but the bullet woundalone was not what had killed him. He’d been killed by a necromantic round; hissoul eaten faster than the gut wound could bleed out.

“W-whatis the meaning of this…”

Fantelstartled at the sound of voices and ducked behind one of the pillars holding upthe portico roof of the partially enclosed courtyard. The automaton buzzed upto the roof of the portico, dimming the light from its eye beam in an attemptto remain unnoticed. Fantel peeped around the pillar toward the two menstanding in the centre of the courtyard. The big man with the rifle she hadseen in the main chamber stood with his back to Fantel. He had his riflepointed at a rotund Bhuvanti man wearing a white linen suit and a lurid pinkruffle-necked shirt. Fantel could see the stark fear on the Bhuvanti man’sface. He held a polished teak cane across his body, almost like a staff. Theend of the cane was topped with a very large lump of what looked like unrefinedPhantasma ore; the stone seemed to burn with a blue black lustre. Four moreDha-hali lay dead at the fat man’s feet; black creeping veins, like cracks infine porcelain, traced over their dead flesh. They’d all been killed bynecromantic ammunition.

“AluhahnBashi.” The one-eyed Raider growled, gruff voice mangling the common tongueinto something rough and menacing. “This ain’t yer lucky day.”

Thefat Bhuvanti opened his mouth, cold sweat breaking out all over his face. “No-don’t.” He stuttered. “Y-you are making a mistake. Do you know who I am? Youcan’t kill me!”

“That’swhere yer wrong.” The Raider shot him. The rifle made no noise, the bulletleaving the barrel silently. The only indication that he’d fired at all was theflash of dark blue-black light from the end of the barrel and the force ofrecoil racing up the raider’s arms and down his back. Aluhahn Bashi was thrownbackward against a small, bubbling fountain. He slid down until his rump, mouthopening and closing silently. His cane slid from his lax grip, the heavy stonestriking against the bricks of the courtyard. Desperate fingers groped at theruffles covering his chest as a blossom of vivid red bloomed across his shirt.A look of unutterable dread, clear as the day was long, spread across the man’sface, leeching all the life from slackening features. His eyes became vacant;staring through his killer at some internal vista so horrifying it robbed himof all volition. His hands dropped away from his chest, flopping bonelessly tothe ground. His skin paled, rich walnut complexion becoming tarnished. His eyesfilmed over with instantaneous cataract. Climbing upward from under the highcollar of his shirt inky black veins crawled beneath his skin, forking likelightning bolts. A low death rattle whistled free of his lungs as he died.

TheRaider grunted and shouldered his necromantic rifle. He ambled over to the bodyand reached down to pick up the cane. Breaking it in two across his thigh he tossedaside the end of the cane and snapped the glowing stone off the top. The mantucked the pilfered stone into a suede pouch and tied it to his thick leatherbelt. He turned then and pointed his gun straight at the pillar Fantel thoughtshe was safely hidden behind.

“Shouldarun while yer ‘ad the chance.” The Raider growled. There was no time to move,and no chance of evading this bullet. He was using ghost bullets. The boundghost made each and every necromantic round unstoppable. Even flesh woundscaused by a necromantic bullet were fatal. The malignant ghost tied to thebullet would spread through the body of the victim faster than any poison.Nothing would slow it down; the ghost in the bullet would pass through walls, twistaround corners. She could not run, duck, or hide.

Thedoor behind her flew open and Tamaki tumbled out, barrelling into Fantel in herhaste. “You,” Tamaki stared at her wide eyed as almost two dozen human woman,freed from their chains and wild eyed with adrenaline and hope, stumbled intothe courtyard behind her. They came to an abrupt halt when they saw the deadDha-hali and the raider standing over him.

“Ladiesplease, this is no time to dawdle,” the last person through the door was theyouth in the bright blue coat, Rashari. He skidded to a halt when he spottedthe raider, his eyes skipping from the rifle to the Dha-hali bodies and then tothe corpse slumped against the fountain.

“That’s…Bashi.”An expression of horrified comprehension stretched over Rashari’s face. Hestared at the one-eyed raider, beginning to raise his hands. “I can explain.”

Theraider shifted his lethal focus from Fantel to Rashari. His single eye seemedto take in the crowd of liberated slaves and Fantel in one sweep. She could notimagine what conclusions he drew, but whatever they were they did not pleasehim. He pointed the rifle at the youth in blue, “Traitor.”

“What?”Rashari barely seemed to hear him. He was staring at Bashi, and at the twobroken ends of the cane lying in the dead man’s lap. “You have the stone.” Hesaid a certain note of grim resignation in his tone. He looked up at the otherman slowly.

Theraider laughed rough and angry. “Yer damn right I do.” His lips pulled backfrom large, yellowed teeth, rough whiskers sticking out like razor wire fromthe leathery creases gouging his face. “Yer fink I don’ know what yer plannedt’do? Yer fink I don’t know yer were goin t’betray me? Yer workin’ for theSuluman.”

Therewas a pause, a beat of silence. Rashari stared at the man. “What – no.” Heshook his head. “Remus; I swear to you. I don’t know what you’re talkingabout.” He held up his hands. “What haveI done that would make you think that? Alright, yes, I did let the slaves go-but I never planned to betray you. I’m not working for the Suluman.”

“Liar,”Remus growled and Fantel couldn’t help but agree with him. The youth was lying. She didn’t know how she knew,but she did. Remus shifted the rifle, finger poised on the trigger.

Rashari’seyes widened fractionally and he raised his hands higher. “Remus, stop; think.” Rashari beseeched him dark eyesflashing around the courtyard, looking for something. “There’s no reason to dothis. I’m on your side. We can...we can still get out of here. No one needs toknow you killed Bashi. We can make it look like Einar wanted Bashi dead allalong. We can make this work for us.”

“Fink?” Remus snarled viciously, “I am finking. I’m finkin’ you figured yercould get out o’yer bondage by makin’ a deal wit’ the Suluman. Yer had it allplanned; yer were goin’ t’fit me up good. Let me take the blame wit’ theDha-hali. But the joke’s on yer boy. I knowwhat the stone is.” Remus pulled the trigger. There was a flash ofblue-black light.

“Bloooop.”The automaton dove down from the portico roof, swooping past Fantel’s pillarand into the space between Remus and Rashari. “Bloo-ooop.” The shimmering fieldof energy enveloping the automaton expanded outward, flashing the sametumultuous blue-black as the rifle discharge. The bullet passed through the energyshield, and snagged like a fly in amber. Fantel could see it, a dark lumpsuspended in that cloud of stormy energy, as if time had stopped. “Blooop,” thebubble of energy popped like a balloon, and the automaton dropped to theground. The ghost bullet tumbled down with it, clattering against thebrickwork.

“SMITH.”Rashari yelled.

Remusswore, scrambling to reload the rifle. Rashari jumped forward and scooped theautomaton up from the ground. He lunged for Remus and slammed the automatoninto the older man’s sternum. The rifle flew from Remus’s hands and fell intothe fountain. Remus retaliated with a left hook that caught Rashari in the sideas he pivoted away. Remus grabbed for his leg, and Rashari brought theautomaton down on the top of his head, a grazing blow. He danced out of theway. Remus whipped out a pistol from inside his ill-fitting frock-coat, whirledaround and aimed at Rashari, who froze like a scared rabbit.

“Youworthless son-of-a-whore,” Remus growled. “Yer pushed yer luck too far thistime boy.”

Rashari,eyes wide, took a half step backward. He set the automaton on the ground andraised his hands in placating fashion. “You’re making a mistake.” He said seriously.

Remuslaughed, “Not likely.” He pulled the trigger. Yet again there was a flash ofblue-black light and a chill breath of stale air.

Thebullet caught Rashari in the left shoulder as he tried to twist out of the way.He staggered back several steps, hitting the curved basin of the fountain andtripping over Bashi’s feet, falling onto his backside beside the corpse. Hestared up at Remus with wide, dark eyes, his right hand clamped over his leftshoulder; a spatter of brilliant red blood spreading over the sky blueperfection of his coat. A look of brief pain and irritation shivered over hissharp features. “Damn it Remus. This didn’t have to end this way.” He hissedbefore his eyes closed and his features went slack.

“No,no, no.” Tamaki choked off a scream, shoving shaking fingers into her mouth asshe bent double, sinking into a crouch, tiny panicked sounds escaping herthroat, muffled by her hands. More than one of the other former captivesfollowed suit. The others simply stared at Remus, waiting for him to turn hisgun on them.

Fantellunged forward, claws extended, and smashed into Remus before he knew what hithim. She slashed her claws across his face in a sharp diagonal arc from rightto left. The man danced back. He was so much faster than he looked; a bruiserwith the feet of a dancer. He struck her with his pistol. Fantel tore it fromhis hands and threw the gun aside. It skidded over the brickwork out of reach.

“Getaway wit’ yer - “

Remusdrew a nasty snub bladed dagger from his inside sleeve and stabbed for herabdomen, his movements swift and economically; the actions of an experiencedfighter, no unnecessary flourishes or waste of effort, just ruthlessefficiency. She twisted aside, avoiding the thrust of the dagger and grabbedhis thick wrist, digging her claws into the vulnerable underside, piercingveins. Remus swore ripping his slashed wrist free. Fantel harried him withquick striking slashes of her claws, intent on driving him back into a corner.

Remusmanaged to slither free, side stepping away at the last instant, and turningthe tables. Fantel whipped about, dropping to one knee and sweeping one footout in a fast arc to unbalance the raider as he tried to push her into theshaded corner of the portico. Remus brought the blade down in a lightning fastarc, aiming to bury the knife in her neck. Fantel rolled to the side at thelast instant and Remus staggered, his momentum causing him to lose his balance.Fantel jumped to her feet. Whippet fast Remus regained his footing and turnedon her, raising his forearm to block her flurry of blows. Fantel jumped backbefore he could counter. They circled each other warily, until Remus dartedforward suddenly, reaching out to grab his fallen pistol. Fantel dove forward,scrapping her palms on the brickwork as she stretched out one hand to knock thegun away. Remus swore and caught a fistful of her hair, wrenching her head backand then forward, fast enough to induce whiplash. Fantel managed to get botharms underneath her before he could dash her brains out across the ground.

Remusabruptly let go of her hair. Fantel scrambled away until her back hit the wall.Rashari stood behind Remus, the necromantic pistol pressed against the back ofRemus’ head. The left breast of his sky blue coat was stained with blood but hewas inexplicably alive and wearing a bladed smile on his face.

“Youknow,” he began cheerily. “Murder is all well and good, but there is just noexcuse for ruining a good coat.”

“Pitdamn yer,” Remus snarled words tearing free of his throat; anger mangled thesyllables until they were almost unintelligible. “Ruthy was right. Yer reallyare a monster. The Imperials made yer, din’t they? Cooked yer up in some laband set yer loose to kill us all.”

Rashariscowled behind his back, lips thinning, but he marshalled his anger. “The stoneif you please.”

“Killme an’ be done with it,” Remus tossed his head and sneered.

“Theprospect is growing in allure with every passing moment.” Rashari snapped. “ButI am willing to let bygones be bygones and attempted murder slide in the nameof our past association. Hand over the stone and I’ll let you live.”

Fantelrose to her feet carefully, head cocked as she studied Rashari. She’d beencertain that the bullets in the pistol had been ghost bullets and yet he wasstill alive. How was this possible? Remus was right; no ordinary human couldsurvive a ghost bullet.

“Yera fool boy; a weak hearted fool,” Remus’ lips twisted in contempt, and even alittle pity. “Even if yer don’t kill me; I’m a dead man. Nylous will see toit.” He tilted his head so he could see Rashari with his one good eye. “Iwoulda shown yer no mercy. An’ neither will he. Whatever yer fink; whateverplans yer got cookin’ in that head o’ yers – yer’ll never be free o’ Veridree.”

“Yourlack of faith is touching.” Rashari’s expression hardened. He removed thepistol from Remus’ head and shoved the barrel into his back, between hisshoulder blades. “Goodbye Remus. It’s been a singular honour serving underyou.” Fantel saw it in his eyes the very moment he pulled the trigger. Remusjerked once and smiled, grim and bitter, as the ghost bullet pierced his backand invaded his spirit. He stayed upright. Fantel watched as his eyes cloudedover and his skin marbled with black veins. He died without a sound. Rashariknelt beside him and pulled the pouch from his belt before knocking Remus’ bodyover. He hit the ground with a solid thump.