As they got closer to the Salt Bell, still sounding with a resonant gong, Vanth and her arms-mates were joined by dozens of other Salt Swords. They fell into step beside each other without a word or a glance, each soldier fixed on their destination. Several frenzied horses tore past them, bearing Salt Sword riders coming from the furthest reaches of the city. Vanth and the other soldiers on foot turned a last tight corner, skidding on cobblestones slick with sea spray. The dilapidated tower housing the Salt Bell loomed before them.

  A harbinger of doom and a call to arms, the Salt Bell had stood in the northeast corner of the city for generations. Vanth could hear the groaning of the bell as it swung—ancient metal grinding in protest after being left to moulder in silence for so long.

  The Salt Swords assembled in two long rows before Overseer Jewell. He was standing on the stone steps at the foot of the tower, a warped, salt-rotted door at his back. Vanth filed into line, Albin and Pictor on either side. Her heart thudded painfully in her throat.

  A last deafening gong peeled away from the bell, amplifying the silence left in its wake. Overseer Jewell wasted no time in addressing them. He was a lean man, tightly packed with muscle. A little too young to be an overseer at thirty-six and a little too handsome, with a long, dark ponytail that snaked beneath his collar. The rumour was he had gained his position because he and Lord Dewer had once been lovers.

  “We have little time to waste,” he said, lifting his voice above the hiss of the returning tide. “There is evil abroad in the city.” He paused to survey his troops, taking a moment to watch for any signs of fear or weakness on their faces. “The details I have been given are scant. I only know that some creature or devil has risen in the northwest of the city. We are to travel there immediately and attempt to—”

  “I’ll take over from here, Overseer.”

  The Salt Swords turned towards the new voice, a ripple of shock running through their ranks when they saw Lord Dewer approaching. He was flanked by his stony-faced personal guards, Karane and Critos. They were easily marked out by the wine red of their lamellar vests. The other Salt Swords had nicknamed them the Red Breasts, though none would dare call them that to their faces. An oversized bearskin cloak made Dewer’s shoulders appear huge. It caught the stiff breeze coming in from the sea and fanned out behind him as he walked.

  “My Swords are yours to command, Lord Dewer.”

  Overseer Jewell covered his surprise well, but Vanth could see he had not expected to see Dewer that day either. The Lord of Armoria had planned to remain abroad for another two weeks at least.

  Lord Dewer climbed the steps and stared hard at the gathered Salt Swords. “A demon has been sighted in our city.” His deep voice echoed against the pitted rock of the tower. “It is a dark, low creature with little intellect, intent only on savagery and destruction.”

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  “We will deal with it immediately, Lord Dewer.”

  Dewer turned to glower at Jewel. The overseer bent his head and took a step back.

  “My druids are already working to re-capture the creature,” he continued. “It is your duty to protect them at all costs.”

  Vanth stole a quick look at her arms-mates. Dewer was implying the creature had already been a prisoner of his. A prisoner he had allowed to escape. Albin and Pictor’s faces were placid, their focus intent on their lord and commander. A terrible feeling was beginning to knot in the pit of Vanth’s stomach. This dark demon sounded very much like the monster Gwin had described.

  “Work quickly, Salt Swords,” Lord Dewer barked, dismissing them.

  The Salt Swords bowed as one and turned to jog back towards the city. They must have made quite a sight—two black-clad lines of grim-faced soldiers, jogging in unison along the strangely hushed streets of Armoria. Vanth saw several anxious faces watching them from their windows, drawing back behind ratty curtains when the Salt Swords drew near. They were far from the boulevards and white stone houses of the Silver Quarter where the more well-to-do Armorians lived. The people here scratched a living from fishing or hauling goods at the dockyard. They little loved or trusted Dewer’s soldiers.

  A terrible screaming roar rattled through the sky, shaking the thin windows in their frames and sending several Salt Swords to their knees in terror. A young man fell in Vanth's path, his hands pressed to his ears. She took hold of his forearm and firmly hoisted him back to his feet.

  “Remember your training. Push fear aside. Stop shaking, for Thet’s sake.”

  The man nodded and fell back into step beside her. They weaved through alleys and back streets as a great, deep rumbling vibrated in the earth beneath their feet. A long plume of smoke rose ahead of them, soaring like a black exclamation point into the otherwise cloudless blue sky.

  With a small twist of grief, Vanth realised they were heading for the Bard’s Quarter. She pictured Barlo as he had been at the Midnight Bard competition—the glossy feathers at his neck a chorus of rippling colours before the torch light, his rich voice meticulously trained to resound across the square from the stage—and swallowed down an urgent fear. As they finally reached Midnight Square, the flow of jogging Salt Swords slowed, each soldier momentarily frozen.

  The creature was the height of three men and five times as wide. It had no ears, just long, jagged spines protruding from its otherwise bald head. Wet tendons wrapped around the creature’s limbs, outside of its body, furred and slick with an iridescent, greenish residue. It stumbled about the square, its great webbed feet slapping the cobbles. Open sores marred its shoulders and the backs of its arms and legs. Weeping with blood or pus, they puckered and opened like dozens of little mouths constantly kissing the air. A dirty rag as big as two tablecloths was tied loosely around the monster’s waist and between its legs. Behind it, the stage where Vanth had watched Gwin play her terrifying shadow song just two nights before was lying in splintered ruins, thoughtlessly crushed like a twig on a forest floor.

  The creature ceased its aimless blundering to lift blank eyes to the sky. It opened hideously wide jaws, almost splitting its ghastly head in two as it screamed again, revealing several rows of pointed teeth. The sound rang in Vanth’s ears and sent a jangling pain through her skull.