Chained to the bottom of the small vehicle were a dozen prisoners who looked as though they'd been dipped in blood and dragged through the desert. Their arms and legs were tied over their heads and to the bottom of vessel, while their bodies faced out, like they were figureheads on the underbelly of the dark ship. The vessel was designed to aerial dock, where it would float perpendicular to a loading platform; if it were actually forced to land, every prisoner would be crushed.
Cross spied Cole among the other prisoners as the vehicle floated close to the surface of the execution platform. He could barely recognize her, since her bloody hair was pasted to her face and she’d gone bone thin.
You bastards.
Cross was seized by the arms and marched across the platform. Kane nodded at him as he walked by. Black looked at him with…fear? Remorse? Either way, she didn't seem happy about his execution.
Well, at least there's that.
He glanced at Ramsey again, who nodded at one of Drake's other attendants as she whispered something to him. She was a young-looking female vampire with short blonde hair.
Cross turned away. That vampire was Ekko.
Something growled in the air, guttural and deep. It was distant, but the sound was strong enough that he actually felt it. No one seemed to notice but Cross.
The drums pounded slower than before. They'd become a heartbeat for the bestial city. Cross heard chains and smoke and cries, and he smelled metal and oil and rotting flesh. He moved stiffly, exhausted beyond measure.
They led him towards the tree. Drops of grisly matter rained down from the clockwork branches and their whirring blades. The pale moonlight cast the shadows of limp bodies held in the tree at awkward angles, crumpled and missing appendages. A dank and stale air wafted over Cross.
Dillon's body was on the platform at the base of the tree, so ruined that Cross only recognized it because it made no sense for any other body to have been placed there. Knowing his friend's fate before seeing his corpse had prepared him somewhat, but Cross still felt sick.
No one deserves to die like that. He'd been a simple man, and he hadn't wanted for much. He’d wanted to protect his home; he’d wanted to see to it that the sister and nephew he likely felt awkward around were safe and taken care of; he’d wanted an occasional companion of his own. I'm sorry. God, I'm sorry.
A pair of cloaked vampires stood at the base of the tree, their white robes and skin like pale torches in the claustrophobic shadows. Murderous mechanical branches moved overhead. The vampires smiled. Something deep in Cross' soul sealed away the rage and hatred he felt at that moment, so that he could reach back in and use it later, when he'd need it the most.
He’d have the opportunity: Cross knew that he wasn't going to die.
Not yet.
They untied his hands and pushed him into a vertical metal coffin. The inside of the box was filled with wires and blades. The vampires seized his wrists and secured him to sharpened straps that dangled from the edged walls of the box. The coffin would lift him into the air, where the tree would slowly flay him into chunks of meat.
The shadow again howled from the desert. This time, everyone heard it.
The sound shook the city of Krul, and it echoed long after it should have faded. The temperature dipped from the chill of a desert night to almost frigid. Small shards of tiny razors fell from the killing tree and clanked noisily to the platform.
The city froze. Vampire eyes cast themselves westward, towards the source of the dark roar. Arcane chants and silent rites had already begun deep inside the residencies and on the streets of Dirge, vampire spells meant to ward off enemies and raise the city defenses.
They'll do little good.
A general alarm was raised. The sight of the vampire city-state was something to behold when the city was under attack. Vampires quietly moved in military precision to gather weapons and armor. Deep horns like something from the bottom of the sea cast dull booms into the sky. Buildings folded together as Krul's massive chains began the lengthy process of sealing the city off from attackers. Cross heard guns in the outer walls shift and extend. The columnar metropolis squeezed tight as the buildings pulled and folded together. Winged fliers and airships took to the air. Sharp musk carried on the dead breeze, as did the whispers of incorporeal servants and homunculi messengers.
For a moment it seemed as if Cross had been forgotten. He looked through the crowd of vampires and searched for Black and Kane. The deep night turned even blacker.
It found us. It came for the shards of Lucan’s soul.
Ramsey.
Cross struggled against the straps that held him in the bladed cage. They’d not been fully secured.
Tega Ramsey did this. He shut down the city dampeners, or manipulated them. He made it so that the Sleeper could detect us, so that it would find us.
Cross shoved his foot against the cage door and pulled. Leather and metal scraped against his hand. Blood and skin tore away as the straps snapped. He fell out of the cage and onto his back on the cold stone, where he stared up into the heights of the razor tree. Slivers of dark steel and thick drops of blood rained down around him.
Claws punched through Cross’ shoulder and pinned him to the platform. He screamed, and threw his arms around the vampire who’d attacked him. The undead's blank mask was all that looked back. Pain flooded through Cross’ body.
The distant shadow howled again. Its call rattled the city and shook the massive platform, which started to tilt. Chaos spread like fire. Vampire soldiers and spectators spread everywhere. Cross expected shouts and cries and sounds of panic, but then he remembered where he was. The guards and the bureaucracy and the minor nobility of Krul were silent in spite of the dire situation.
The world turned black. Cross’ vision and his senses dulled.
The vampire held him down and looked around at the chaos, unsure of what it was supposed to do. Chain bridges and iron catwalks swiveled as the out-of-control execution platform drifted too close to one of Krul's buildings. The Sleeper's approach either distracted the platform's pilot or it had disrupted Krul's arcane mechanisms. Klaxons and sirens blared through the sky. Armed serpent riders and their mounts soared by in the night. Vampires on the platform raced for the edges, seeking escape or weapons.
As the platform tilted, Cross clearly saw the Sleeper through Krul's columns of smoke and industrial fires.
Its size, even its form, defied comprehension. It was a roiling mountain of darkness. Seas of ghostly matter swam within its form, storms of cold lightning, molten pools of stale moonlight. Its eyes were like blazing scars, and its smoking ebon claws were the size of warships. It towered and blocked out the sky. The great lumbering mass loomed over Krul's un-breakable cylindrical walls. The air was heavy with shadowy grit and a spectral vapor of charcoal fog.
Cross looked at the Sleeper, and his insides froze. Even just seeing it was like falling into the sky.
The execution platform was being evacuated. Already most of the vampires had leapt onto Razorwings or small airships that had swept by on their way to engage the beast.
The vampire above him brought its knee into his sternum, and Cross cried out in pain. The vampire leaned forward and pushed down with all of its weight. Cross tried to move, but the eight-inch claw embedded in his shoulder kept him flat on his back. The blade twisted and tore at the meat in his arm. Cross screamed, reached up and pulled off the creature's mask. The wide-jawed creature smiled. Dark eyes watched the warlock with hate, and pale drool ran from its stark-white fangs and dripped onto Cross' face. It smelled of dead animal.
“ Too quick for you,” the vampire growled as it raised its other claw. Cross brought his free hand up and smashed the ball of his fist into the vampire's face. He got his legs up underneath his attacker and threw it off of him and onto its side. The claw tore painfully out of his shoulder.