Hawk looked it him steadily. "So we just wade right in and slaughter everything that moves. Is that it?"
"Pretty much," said Buchan. "And watch yourselves; rioting is a capital offence, and they know it. They'll kill you if you give them an opening. Don't make the mistake of thinking they'll respond to reason. They won't. They're beyond that now. So just do what you have to do, and worry about the body count later."
He walked unhurriedly into the riot, and his sword flashed. Robed bodies fell to the ground and didn't move again.
"The trouble is, he's right," said Hawk. "I hate this job sometimes."
"If we don't stop this riot, hundreds will die," said Fisher. "Maybe thousands. What are a few lives, compared to that?"
"I know," said Hawk. "But it doesn't make it any easier. I joined the Guard to protect people, not butcher them. Come on, lass. Let's do it."
Fisher nodded, and together they moved silently into the riot and began the slaughter. They worked back to back, blades swinging, and blood splashed their cloaks. Robes of all shapes and colors surged around Hawk, the fanatics nothing more than angry faces and flailing fists. A few had swords. Some had clubs and lengths of chain. None of them stood a chance against Hawk and Fisher. Hawk swung his axe back and forth in wide, brutal arcs, and bodies crumpled to every side of him. Fisher guarded his back, her blade a silver blur as men and women fell screaming to the ground. The crowd began to fall back around them, and some of the rioters turned to flee rather than face the grim-faced Guards.
More Guards spilled onto the Street of Gods from all directions, drawn from all over the city, and soon the cobbled ground was slippery with blood and gore. An armoured contingent arrived from the Brotherhood of Steel, eager for a fight and determined to restore order. The sound of the crowd changed, fear replacing rage, and it began to crumble and fall apart under the onslaught of so many determined professional fighting men. Priests and acolytes threw down their weapons and ran for the safety of their temples. Piles of dead and injured lay scattered across the Street, mostly ignored. Some of them were Guards. A handful of Guard sorcerers appeared on the scene, and slowly the shifting realities returned to what passed for normal on the Street of Gods.
Hawk slowly lowered his axe and looked about him, panting for breath. The Street was emptying fast, and a slow sullen silence had fallen across the night. Tired-looking Guards were sorting the injured rioters from the dead, and finishing the job. Rioting, as Buchan had said, was a capital offence. Hawk turned his head away, and sat down suddenly, his back to a wall. There were some things he wouldn't do, and to hell with what the law said. Fisher sat down beside him, and leaned against him, her head on his shoulder.
"They're not paying us enough for this," she said indistinctly.
"They couldn't pay us enough for this," said Hawk.
"Then why are we doing it?"
"Because someone has to protect the innocent and avenge the wronged. It's a matter of honor. And duty."
"That argument doesn't sound as convincing as it used to."
Hawk nodded slowly. "At least the worst is over now."
A harsh metallic scream broke the silence, deafeningly loud and utterly inhuman. Hawk and Fisher scrambled to their feet and looked round just in time to see something huge and deadly surging out of a temple doorway not nearly big enough to let it through. Stone and timber broke apart and fell away as the Being emerged onto the Street of Gods. It was at least thirty feet high, a shimmering patchwork of metal fragments held together by rags and strings of rotting flesh. Patches of dark, discoloured skin revealed splintered bone and obscurely connected metal mechanisms. Steel and crystal machine parts thrust through the tattered hide, their razor-sharp edges grinding together as the Being rose to its full height. A roaring crimson fire burned in its steel belly and glowed in its bony eye sockets.
It had slender jagged arms with long-clawed hands that shimmered in its own bloody light. Broken silver chains hung from its wrists. Its steel jaws snapped together like a man-trap. A long tail studded with bony spikes lashed back and forth behind it. The Being threw back its long, wedge-shaped head and screamed defiance at the night. It had got out, and there was nothing anyone could do to stop it. It screamed again, a harsh metallic shriek that sent a sudden shiver through Hawk. There was nothing remotely human in the sound. The creature should never have lived, and was not alive in any way that made sense. But this was the Street of Gods, and it had got out, and not even those who had prayed to it for so long could hope to control it now.
It lowered its massive head, and looked at the Guards and Brothers of Steel gathered before it. There were close on three hundred armed men facing the Being, and Hawk knew with a sickening certainty that they weren't going to be enough. The huge creature darted forward, and its razor-sharp claws raked through a dozen men. More died screaming as the creature surged back and forth, crushing men under its massive bulk. Swords and axes cut uselessly at the Being's patchwork hide. Its long head snapped down to bite a man in half. Blood dripped from the metal jaws like steaming saliva. The Guards and the Brotherhood fell back, only their training keeping them from utter panic. The few Guard sorcerers roared and chanted, but their magics shattered harmlessly against the rogue Being, whose very existence defied the laws of reality.
"Where the hell did that thing come from?" said Fisher, as she and Hawk peered warily at the creature from the shadows of a concealed doorway.
"Must be a God of some kind," said Hawk.
"You mean there are people crazy enough to worship that?"
"This is Haven, Isobel; they'll worship bloody anything here. And if one God's out, it won't be long before more come out to join it. I think this might be a good time to make a strategic retreat."
Fisher looked at him sharply. "We're not going anywhere, Hawk. We're God Squad now. And since the rest of the Squad has apparently vanished, that means that thing is our responsibility. It has to be stopped here, before it gets into a more populated part of the city."
Hawk scowled. "I hate it when you're right. Okay; you take left, I'll take right. We'll circle round behind the thing and see if we can cut through whatever it has instead of tendons in its legs. That should bring it down to our height if nothing else."
"And if that doesn't work?"
"Pray really hard that Tomb and Rowan are on their way here, instead of doing the sensible thing and hiding in a storm cellar somewhere."
"You worry too much, Hawk. After all, we've faced worse, in our time."
They shared a smile, and then separated, darting silently from shadow to shadow as they made their way behind the unliving creature. The Being reared up to its full height and glared down at the Guards and Brothers of Steel scattered around it. It screamed again, the inhuman sound echoing on and on. The sound was almost painfully loud as Hawk emerged from the shadows behind the Being, hefting his axe. Up close, the dead flesh smelt of corruption and burning oil. The Being's leg was taller than Hawk and easily twice as broad. There were flat plates of metal sliding against each other, and fraying ropes of muscle that flexed and tore with every movement. Steel cables stretched and hummed, lined with traceries of broken veins. Hawk looked at the axe in his hand and shook his head slowly.
This is probably a really bad idea…
He gripped the axe firmly with both hands, and swung it with all his strength at one of the steel cables in the left leg. The heavy axe sheared clean through the cable, and wedged itself between the moving parts inside the leg. The Being screamed deafeningly. Hawk tugged at his axe, but it was stuck tight. The Being lifted its leg, and Hawk was jerked up into the air, still clinging grimly to his axe. The foot slammed down heavily, cracking the cobbled ground, and Hawk was thrown clear. He lay on his back a moment, dazed, and then rolled quickly to one side. The taloned foot slammed down where he'd been lying. He clambered shakily to his feet, and saw his axe protruding from the leg, just in front of him. He grabbed it firmly with both hands, pulled hard, and almost fell down again as it came away easily. The impact of the stamping foot had jarred it loose.