Ella Neiman

Ahaneth

Novel extract

Chapter One

KATHIKAR [KATH-ih-car], (Serakash, archaic)—The sharpest teeth in a carnivorous mammal’s mouth, primarily used for tearing flesh from bone
— from The Many Blades of the Maw Empera by imperial court writer
Nanzanos, Chapter 1

The twin suns of Odeka Prime split Ahaneth’s shadow in two as she prowled the city. It was a hot, humid day, perfect for fishing or ware-hawking or basking beside the canals, but the city of Ishanadir was startingly empty. All she heard were her own breaths echoing in her helmet and the faint song of windchimes in the distance. The way she saw it, there were three possibilities for the quiet: the city’s residents were hiding, had evacuated, or were already dead.

She turned east and headed further into the city. Coming to a bridge, she noticed that the water below was no longer the distinct violet that Ishanadir was known for but a deep, upsetting red. Detritus drifted lazily downstream, far too much than what was expected for a city this size. At a passing glance, the debris resembled logs from the nearby woods, but Ahaneth knew better.

Ahaneth moved with predatorial ease, her footsteps swift and whisper-silent across sandstone. The city had been constructed over a delta, turning a labyrinth of rivers into a geometric pattern of canals. Towers reinforced with steel rose above painted-glass windows. The helixes of cranes rose above crumbling buttresses, and the old road had been resurfaced and then scribbled over with children’s chalk. The city seemed stitched together, halfway in the past, halfway in the present. Odeka Prime wasn’t opposed to the industry of progress, but it still clung to tradition with a fervour unmatched by most across the Empire. Odekans were a superstitious folk, and stubborn, too.

What good it did them, thought Ahaneth as her eyes dragged across a bloodstain.

The map in the corner of her helmet’s heads-up-display indicated she’d arrived in the central plaza, which was octagonal and crisscrossed by canals small enough to step over. Young trees blooming agate-orange provided shade for benches, and though Ahaneth’s helmet filtered the air of contaminants, she imagined the blossoms smelled like honey.

Seeing no people, Ahaneth looked for the malcor and its massive, black-scaled body, but it wasn’t here. Abandoned market stalls piled with fresh food and handwoven clothing huddled together at the edge of the plaza. Ahaneth saw evidence of a panicked escape judging from lost shoes, tipped baskets, and dropped coin pouches whose glittering hoards were scattered across the tiles.

She walked the perimeter of the plaza, her eyes scanning the mosaic beneath her. It was a repeating pattern of a cobalt planet haloed in sun rays, the continents made up by the faces of three women: the Triumvirate. The planet itself was cradled by starry hands and staring above the northmost pole were the all-seeing eyes of the Maw Empera Herself. The Maw Empera tended to be portrayed according to the ancient customs of each planet. Odeka Prime, for instance, was matriarchal and held mothers in high respect, but on planets like Ten-Hera, where the native culture was shaped by witchcraft and illusions, the Maw Empera was depicted as a sorceress enveloped in fire. On Ahaneth’s home world, she was a thunderstorm above a golden field.

Ahaneth, said a voice in her head. Status.

Ahaneth startled. She might have stalked the malcor by herself if her crew weren’t here with her. Begrudgingly, she responded in mindspeak, The plaza’s clear. It’s as good a place as any.

Acknowledged. Stand clear.

Ahaneth heard the ship before she saw it. The sound of the engines reminded her of an insect swarm, millions of wings beating together to form a droning disharmony. As it grew closer, the humming turned to the rolling roar of a dust storm, the sound folding over itself and multiplying as it echoed through the city. Then, as if emerging from behind a mirage, it appeared.

A Virtue-class warmaker, the Obeisance was sculpted for slaughter. Its four black wings extended knifelike from a sleek body, within which hid an arsenal of weaponry. The cockpit was shrouded beneath smooth, black panels, giving it the impression it was eyeless, much like Ahaneth’s own helmet. The stern flashed blue with atmospheric burn, the engines rotating to land the ship. Hydraulics pumped and hissed as the landing gear touched down, whipping up a gale that blew shoes and baskets across the plaza. A ramp unfolded in the hull, and three soldiers disembarked, all equipped with the same kit as Ahaneth: titanium-carbon armour, subatomic firearms, and an emperium greatsword.

Well? asked Sua as she approached.

Anyone else wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference between them, which was the point. They’d been augmented to have the same muscle mass and bone density, and they were all roughly the same height. To civilians, enemies, and Legionnaires, the Kathikar were identical, even across separate crews. They might have been clones, for all anyone knew, if clones weren’t forbidden by imperial law. But Ahaneth had been with them long enough to tell them apart, and she didn’t have to step inside their minds to do it.

So, when Sua spoke in Ahaneth’s mind, Ahaneth knew which soldier to face. The bodies increase further east, she said. All those people trying to escape… She trailed off and ground her jaw. The city was made into a feast.

Sua didn’t move. From the buzz in her thoughts, Ahaneth knew she was recalculating her plan. One second in Sua’s mind was like being inside a computer, every thought a line of code.

Do you know where it is?

Ahaneth shook her head. No, but if I had to guess, it’s here. She sent a mental image of the city to their minds, magnifying the district where the bathhouses were. With all that prey, it’s likely gorged itself into a stupor.

Beside Sua, Maranon rolled his shoulders. I hate malcors, he said, sending a flash of disgust rippling through the psychoneural network that connected their minds. He tapped the end of his rifle four times. Let’s kill it.

Lykos held up a hand. How did it even get here? Malcors aren’t native to Odeka Province, and they’re highly regulated.

Doesn’t matter, responded Maranon. It’ll be dead soon.

It does matter. Something isn’t right.

“Focus,” said Sua aloud, her helmet distorting her voice into menacing ambiguity. “Hunt now, speculate later.”

Ahaneth scanned the roads branching away from the plaza and estimated the fastest path to the bathhouse. This way, she said, pointing northeast.

Sua turned back to the Obeisance. “Do you have us, Oculus?”

“I have you, Sua. Standing by on your command. Shields and weapons hot,” replied the Oculus, the creature bound to the ship as its mind, heart, and soul.

“All things bleed,” Sua intoned, her voice a battle-drum.

“All things bleed,” they echoed.

Ahaneth assumed the lead with Sua to her right, Lykos to her left, and Maranon behind her. Years of training had taught them to move as one, each soldier a segment of a many-legged, obsidian-plated creature, not unlike the monster they stalked.

As they walked, they found further evidence of a one-sided battle. Blood painted the streets in a slash pattern, and black starbursts from grenades had rendered delicate mosaics into rubble, shrapnel studding the walls like stars. Vehicles were turned on their sides and fires coughed black smoke into the sky.

And then there were the bodies.

The first one twisted facedown beneath an archway, limbs splayed awkwardly. Then there was a group of three slumped in a heap as though they’d tried to protect each other. Another was trapped beneath a cart. Then they just kept appearing.

The malcor had ignored their heads and limbs and had gone straight for the torsos. The corpses were completely relieved of their organs, and the malcor had been so thorough that the bones almost seemed to shine beneath the double suns’ light.

Their training kicked in before the dread could roll through their minds. They pushed aside the horror and replaced it with razor-sharp composure. They were Kathikar; they couldn’t let themselves becomes rattled by anything, even a monster as gruesome as this.

Like Maranon, Ahaneth was hungry for vengeance. She wanted to race ahead and ambush the malcor before it could hurt anyone else. If she didn’t trust her crew so much, she might have left formation to hunt it on her own, but they were a team. She would do anything for them.

They turned the corner onto the main road, where the bathhouse loomed on the far end. A massive building capped with three sandstone domes, it was haloed in steam and smoke that turned the blue sky gray.

As they approached, careful to step over the dead, Ahaneth tracked evidence of the malcor. The bathhouse’s thick walls were rent with gouges wider than Ahaneth’s leg, and in the center of the steel doors was a hole large enough for a tank to squeeze through, the edges peeling away like petals. Beside the hole lay a body, a cavern where her chest should be. A cap stamped with the Legion’s sigil lay next to her. Dried blood streaked her face like warpaint, and her vacant gaze was aimed at the rifle by her feet.

Ahaneth crouched and closed the soldier’s eyes. She’d known what she’d signed up for, just as Ahaneth did, but no one deserved to die like this.

They fell into procedure at the corner of the bathhouse, their visors splicing through the bathhouse’s walls. The building consisted of three rooms, the first and largest housing the pools. On the north side were the changing and storage areas, and the south side held offices and more storage. An alarm chimed in the distance.

As the infrared lens clicked on, Ahaneth got her first clear look at the malcor. It paced the length of the pools, tail whipping through the steam.

She looked toward the back of the building to finish mapping everything, but instead of seeing the northeast corner clearly, everything smudged into one confusing mass. Anybody see the dark spot in the corner? she asked.

Sua followed her line of sight. Shroud tech?

Ahaneth cycled through the rest of her lenses, noting on the thermal that a halo of blue-green light surrounded the dark spot. Thermal inhibitor. A clever trick. Malcors hunted based on heat thanks to the thermal organ on their heads, but an inhibitor would conceal a person’s body heat.

A sharp clatter echoed through the bathhouse, amplified by the sensors in Ahaneth’s helmet. The malcor jerked and crept close to the blue-green cloud, lifting a massive paw, then it flinched away when a barrage of gunshots sprayed through. As it retreated, the cold mass started to collapse, and Ahaneth saw a red-tinged humanoid before the inhibitor flickered back on.

Someone’s still back there, she said.

A civilian? asked Lykos. Or a Legionnaire?

We’ve got to draw out the malcor, said Sua. She broke off and cast them her plan, sending mental images to their minds instead of wasting her time with words. Swords only, Sua continued. Bullets will ricochet off the scales, and subatomic will only tickle.

At her command, Ahaneth primed a flare and walked ten paces from the bathhouse to the road, and when Sua gave the signal, Ahaneth struck it and planted it on the pavement. It deployed immediately, sparking and flashing like orange lightning. Sua and Lykos assumed flanking positions to her left and right, while Maranon waited beside the doors, ready to swoop in behind the creature.

A flash of red light, and Ahaneth’s attention flicked to the far corner, where the humanoid stood bright without the thermal inhibitor. They lifted something to their shoulder: a long smear of lukewarm purple, supported by both hands. Ahaneth watched as the purple deepened into red, and she stiffened in recognition.

She had just enough time to yell in mindspeak, GET DOWN, before they fired. She started to move out of the way, but the grenade clipped her shoulder and exploded like a red star gone supernova.

A burst of fire and shrapnel bloomed in all directions, and the momentum launched Ahaneth backwards. Her sword went flying. She twisted through the air and reached out, her hands scraping the pavement to slow her fall. She swung her legs down and skidded to a stop, then stilled, panting.

Her spine burned as the exorachidian attachment fused to her vertebrae assessed her injuries and released the necessary chemicals: painkillers, blood-clotters, bone-menders, adrenaline. Her body went cold and then hot as the pain sparked and disappeared, replaced with a blank numbness. She shook her head to clear the encroaching haze and sucked a deep breath.

Ahaneth? came Sua’s worried voice. Are you okay?

Yeah. Ahaneth swallowed the bitter aftertaste of anesthetic. I’m good. She willed her eyes to focus.

The RPG had bored a hole in the smoke, and she saw the malcor stalking her.

It towered above her, at least twice her height and heavy enough for the road to splinter beneath its clawed feet. Muscular and covered in bristling, black scales, a segmented tail curled into the air, hooked at the end and swollen with venom. Its head was reminiscent of a lizard’s, if that lizard was crossed with a dog and didn’t have any eyes. Two sets of forearm-long fangs sprouted from its upper jaw, and laid over its face like a splayed hand was the thermal organ, protected by plate-like growths that opened and closed at will.

Ahaneth watched the osseous growths open like a lotus and reveal the pale membranous organ, shivering and pulsating. Bloody drool dripped from its mouth, and a purple, tapered tongue unrolled from between its teeth and snaked in the air.

Ahaneth glanced at her sword lying on the road, knowing that if she managed to pierce the membrane it was as good as dead, but the others were already in motion.

Maranon dashed in front of her, swinging his sword like a banner. The edge caught the malcor’s lower jaw and batted its head away from her, and the growths clicked shut. It roared and followed Maranon, allowing Ahaneth to sprint to her sword. She reached down and grabbed it without stopping, then ran in an arc to return to the fight. She slowed as she beheld the whirlwind of violence.

Maranon went low, ducking beneath a massive paw, then leaped. His sword flashed against the base of the tail and sunk between the scales, but it darted away before Maranon could sever the tail completely. He fell and rolled to his feet and dodged the first swipe, but the second one caught him off guard. He flew backward, twisting awkwardly to land on his feet.

Lykos was there to fill in the gaps. He thrust his sword into its shoulder, eliciting a horrible roar. At the same time, Sua moved like an eel through the fray. She slid beneath the monster and lanced her sword across its abdomen. When Lykos struck the malcor’s face— “It’s like you want it to eat you!” Maranon yelled aloud—Sua distracted it by stabbing a paw.

Status, Ahaneth, commanded Sua. Her worry curdled in Ahaneth’s head.

I told you, I’m fine. Ahaneth peered through the commotion for a glimpse of the person who’d fired at her, but they must have hidden behind the thermal inhibitor.

Are you just going to stand there and watch? asked Maranon.

Why? You’re doing such a great job without me.

Ahaneth, warned Sua as she lunged for one of the malcor’s legs. As she did so, Lykos lashed out and severed the malcor’s tail. The malcor screamed, the screech of a thousand birds, and spun around. It caught Sua in the chest, and she slid backwards, clutching her arm.

Ahaneth, she said, sharper this time.

I’m here.

Ahaneth sprinted the last few paces and ducked as Maranon body-slammed the malcor from the left, and then she spun her sword. Blue-black blood dripped and hissed when it hit the road. The malcor lunged, its spiked jaw unhinged and tongue flicking. She feinted and rolled to the side, striking in the same movement. The malcor roared, and the clattering plates over the membrane flickered open, if only for a second.

Sua, Lykos, I need you to circle back and attack on my signal. Ahaneth sprinted away to where the flare guttered and spat, then spun around.

Sua and Lykos removed their handguns and started firing. As predicted, the bullets just ricocheted off the malcor’s slick head, but they succeeded in drawing its attention, allowing Maranon to scramble away.

What do you need? he asked as he hurried over.

Throw me.

He looked at her, then back at the malcor, which was now trying to eat Sua while Lykos tried to shoot out its teeth, then back at her. You’re not serious.

Shut up.

Ahaneth broke into a run. Adrenaline, both hers and the others’, surged through her body and set her senses alight. She stepped into Maranon’s open hands and crouched, then he threw her into the air.          

Everything slowed. Ahaneth reached for the sword as her flight reached its zenith, and then she was falling. Now!

Sua and Lykos swung their swords with a shared mind, and the malcor screamed. The plates unfurled, revealing the opalescent membrane beneath. Ahaneth fell, her sword leading the way. The sword plunged through to the brain, piercing the tongue and running through the lower jaw.

Ahaneth’s momentum sent her rolling over the malcor’s head to slide down its neck. When she hit the ground, she somersaulted with far less grace and dignity than she’d intended. Suppressing a groan, she righted herself and turned.

A final, guttering howl escaped the malcor’s throat, and then it collapsed to the ground with a thunderous shudder, its tongue unrolling against the pavement. It was dead.