She groaned, eyes attempting to take in her situation, but her view bouncing everywhere. Then, what vestige of fear of death remained in her already dying form cut through her much more sharply than any bolt or knife, including Munch's, could ever have done. Because she saw that she was slung in the massive, green-tinted arms of a beast that was pounding up the cliff steps outside Martak, a beast that she dimly recognised — but mainly smelled — to be an ogur. What was more, the ogur was roaring, again and again and again.
This was it, then. The moment.
Her vision come true.
It was too much for her. Finally, too much. She hadn't asked for any of this, and she was no longer strong enough to fight the inevitable. With a great weariness and a long, drawn-out sigh that became hopelessly lost in the stormy night, Kali Hooper felt her body relax and then felt herself die.
I'm sorry, old man…
"There!" Killiam Slowhand shouted as he saw her slump in the ogur's grip. "She's there!"
"Slowhand, keep back!" Makennon warned.
Not a chance, Slowhand thought. The disappearance of Kali's body had been the catalyst he'd needed to flee Martak, his desire to rid Twilight of Konstantin Munch overwhelmed by his concern for his ex. He and Makennon had made for the exit just before Munch's army had begun their slow march through it and, frankly, he had all but forgotten about the dwarf and didn't much care. But if there was anything he could do to stop Kali suffering at the hands of this thing that, for whatever reason, had taken her, then he would do it.
He flung himself over riser after riser, pursuing the ogur all the way to the top of the cliffs, and there stood panting heavily, watching in disbelief as the ogur laid Kali's body gently down onto the rocky ground. Nevertheless, he ran forwards, attempting to shield her from whatever was the beast's intent, but the hulking creature batted him away like some buzzing insect, sending him smashing into nearby rocks. Slowhand picked himself up, wiped blood from his mouth and, roaring, went for the ogur a second time, but a loud roar from the beast that was much, much louder than his own — not to mention a steely grip on his arm from the now caught-up Makennon — held him back.
Panting even more heavily, Slowhand unslung his bow and aimed an arrow directly between the ogur's eyes, impossible to miss even though his grip wavered uncharacteristically with grief and fury. The pouring rain slicking down his hair, running in rivulets down his face and reminding him so much of the walkway on Scholten Cathedral. He addressed the beast through clenched teeth.
"Leave — her — alone."
The ogur stared directly at him, an unexpectedly sad and thoughtful expression in its eyes making him falter in his intent. And then, while the still-wavering Slowhand shook his head to shake the water from his eyes, the ogur did something he hadn't expected at all. It pulled the crossbow bolts and the gutting knife from Kali's body, tossed them aside and then removed a strange blue amulet from around its neck and instead strung it about hers. It deliberately let go of the amulet — almost as if it were giving it to her — and then, after a few seconds, touched it again.
Again, the ogur stared at him, and somehow Slowhand knew it was asking him to wait.
Somewhere behind those primal eyes, Merrit Moon saw the desperate figure of Killiam Slowhand, continued to struggle for dominance of his transformed body and prayed the archer would give him time. He had no idea whether what he was about to try would work — as far as he knew scythe-stones had never been used twice, or in such a way — but if it did then Kali Hooper would live again.
His action would come at a price, though. The transference of his own life essence to Kali would likely kill him in turn, but even if it did not — if Thrutt had made him strong enough — then it would leave him so weak that he would no longer be able to fight the assertion of the ogur within, and he could be trapped within its form for the rest of his life. But it seemed a fair and just trade — after all, it was he who was responsible for her being here in the first place, was it not? Besides, she was his Kali — the closest thing to a daughter he had — so what choice was there, really?
He actually willed his life away.
A blue wisp appeared between ogur and corpse, and, feeling its hungry tug like a meathook through his heart, Merrit Moon had to struggle against his own instinct to survive, forcing himself to remain where he was as the process continued. The wisp became a snake, and then a cloud that filled the air between them, and then Kali's body took on a blue glow as it became suffused with the stuff of himself. Moon felt suddenly as if he had been folded inside out and pulled away, and then the cloud was snatched into Kali, and then it became a snake and a wisp once more, and then it was gone. The sound of the amulet doing what it did — a long sigh — was echoed by one of his own, and then his body slumped to the ground with a thud, breathing shallowly.
Kali Hooper's eyes snapped open. She coughed. And then she sat up, abruptly, ramrod straight.
"Great gods," Slowhand whispered.
"Lord of All," Makennon said.
"Slowhand?" Kali asked.
The archer scurried to her side. His voice trembled, partly in wonder at what he had just witnessed, partly in thanks that — somehow — he had Kali back. "H-hey, how you doing?"
"Ohhhh, you know…" Kali said weakly. "You?"
"Ohhhh, you know. Fled certain death, watched you come back from it, now starting to wonder once again whether we have a chance of stopping an invincible clockwork army intent on destroying the world — in other words, your usual." He hesitated, looked doubtful. "You up to speed with this?"
"Unnh. A-ha." Kali coughed again and held her chest, from where she found her fatal wound had gone. And as she did, she caught sight of the figure beside her, and scrambled back on the ground.
"It's all right… I think," Slowhand said. "I don't know how or why but… the ogur helped you."
"Helped?" Kali said, puzzled. She picked herself up, her own metabolism aiding the effects of the amulet, and studied the creature. It was weak but conscious, and its face seemed almost to ripple before her eyes, caught somewhere between the beast she thought it was and something heart-thuddingly familiar. She touched the amulet around her neck, remembered seeing it on the old man, then moved to touch the ogur's face. And as she did, the ogur's hand moved over hers and moved it gently down, much as another had in the Warty Witch a long, long time ago.
Kali swallowed. There was something familiar there — and the eyes.
"My gods," she said. "Merrit?"
"What?" Slowhand exclaimed.
"It's the old man," Kali said, excitedly. "I don't know how or why but he's here, inside this, this… thing. The cave in the World's Ridge, where I last saw him — he didn't die!"
"Oh, Hooper, come on — "
"Your friend is correct," Makennon said. "Munch told me how this happened, about an artefact. Its effects are meant to be temporary but…"
Kali looked at the ogur, concerned. What had, a moment before, seemed so familiar in its eyes was fading, as if Moon were going away, and as she watched the spark in them faded to something feral — the eyes that she remembered from the beasts in the cave. The ogur emitted a dull growl, then, and as if afraid something worse might follow, roughly shoved her away, rose and stomped along the cliff.
"We have to do something to help him," Kali said.
"Hooper, I'm not sure we can," Slowhand cautioned. "It seems to me that in doing what he did he's sacrificed something."
"Like what?" Kali said.
Slowhand looked grave. "Like himself."
"Then let us hope his sacrifice has not been in vain," Makennon said. Her attention had been drawn by a series of quaking thuds from far below. "Because they're coming."