The innermost chamber of the temple was a vast and domed room, lit by an assortment of braziers that cast hazy green light over the dust-strewn floor. Rows of seats overlooked the central floor, giving Riley the impression of an ancient Roman colosseum.

  A few cracks had formed in the ceiling, through which spilled shafts of silvery moonlight.

  But what caught Riley’s eyes was the figure in the heart of the room, was a tall and beautiful woman adorned in not much of anything save for a thin sinky garment, and an ornate jade mask akin to those he had looted earlier. She was the source of the singing, her bangle-coated arms raised eye to an invisible audience.

  He stood transfixed as he stared at the curvaceous woman, only to recoil as her body passed through the moonlight. Whatever part of her the light struck, it revealed that the greenish flesh of her body was merely an illusion. He could see her for what she truly was: A risen corpse of dusty bones, held together by thews of gnarled ebony meat.

  She paused, her dirge echoing off into nothingness, and stared at him with two glowing green eyes.

  “Zal wiliou.”

  Her voice was spoken in the tone of an intaken breath, carrying a deep echo to it.

  “I...” Riley placed his torch in his Inventory for now, swapping it for his shotel. “I’d rather not fight you.” He doubted that would mean much to her.

  “Lewo kechokor matta zo. Horo le lewo kin desarra thrut.”

  Riley inched deeper into the room, his shotel aimed toward her. “I’m warning you.” Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t actually fought any women since arriving here. Unless one were to consider him nearly being flattened by Kim a ‘fight.’ Still, he supposed there was no sense in being squeamish about gender in a place like this.

  The strange woman held her left hand aloft. Shadows seeped through the air and coalesced in her palm, elongating and shaping into a great sickle. The green light of the flames gleamed in the steely edge, casting the whole blade in an emerald glow.

  Her eyes locked firmly onto Riley’s. And when she spoke next, it was not in the alien tongue of the long-dead Picts. There was no ambiguity in her voice.

  “Die.”

  Novara, Final Queen of the Picts.

  She surged toward him just as her name filled the top of Riley’s vision. He jumped away, pirouetting away with the elegance of his Cat ring. Novara was on him as soon as his heels met the ground, a thunderous crash of steel on steel echoing through the chamber. Even though he blocked her blade, Riley still felt the immense pressure roll up to his shoulder.

  For a walking skeleton, Riley had the distinct impression she could match someone like Klaus punch for punch.

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  He swings were swift and fluid, each impact against his shotel kicking up a spray of sparks. Riley struggled to keep pace, even with the ring boosting his nimbleness. He reeled, ducking under a swing, and glimpsed Mesquard bolting from his pocket and onto the floor.

  I shall get you an opening, noble emissary!

  He leapt at her ankle, beyond the spectral illusion of flesh, and sank his fangs into some leathery flesh. Novara reeled, a horrid gurgling grunt rising in her throat. Yet, even distracted, she still avoided a slash to her neck.

  She jumped back, dislodging Mesquard from the knot that held her ankle together, and landed back in the middle of the room. Great shafts of light fell upon her upper body, giving Riley a fleeting glimpse of her true torso. A ribcage smeared with strands of ancient meat. And, beneath, a briar of alien matter that could only loosely be considered a system of organs.

  Novara rushed him with renewed ferocity. Riley held his staff up and unleashed a broad cloud of Blinding Mist. The dead queen skidded into it, hissing and thrashing about with her blade. It would only hold her off briefly, Riley knew, but he was determined to make it count.

  He dodged around her flurry of blind slashed, parted the pale cloud of his magic, and lunged forth with his blade. The edge of his shotel caught her in the ribs as he stroked past her, Novara hissing from the contact. Streams of dark matter, like clotted blood, spilled forth and coated the floor. But her counter was swift, her elbow slamming into the side of Riley’s head and flinging him clean off his feet.

  He tumbled through the air, shards of glass falling from a broken lens, and landed on his feet solely from the inhuman balance granted by his ring. He still wobbled uneasily when he landed, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

  Novara raised her hands aloft, darkness swirling from the tip of her sickle like a sorrowful cloud. She swept her blade out in an arc, unleashing a torrent of black smoke that surged Riley’s way. He braced himself as the miasma overcame him. For a moment he feared it was some sort of poison. But the scent, muffled by his mask, was barely different to the smell of smoke from a fireplace.

  Riley inched backward, shrouded in shadow, and tried to strain his ears to the sound of footsteps. He could barely hear her in motion, naked soles of her feet scraping the stones.

  Something glinted green from the firelight, muted by the smoke but still visible. Riley wheeled away, but the edge still sliced his hip and made him cry out in pain. Novara pressed the assault, seeming to be barely impeded by her smokescreen. Her sickle caught his thigh, briefly hooking his flesh, and Riley was sent crashing to the ground as the last of the smoke hissed away.

  Riley shuddered, huffing for breath, and fought the reflex to reach for his Lodeshard. It was only good for one heal, and he hadn’t thought to recharge it.

  He gripped his staff, the tip aimed at the floor, and channelled Spikes. The stony floor exploded at Novara’s feet, shrapnel slamming into her and forcing her backward. Chunks of bone clattered to the floor around her, exploding into dust soon after.

  Novara’s blade swept down at him, forcing him to roll away. The edge struck the floor, cleaving a great chunk from the ancient slabs. Her foot lashed out as he tried to rise, slamming into his chest and driving his body into the rows of stone seats.

  He struggled to get up again, the whole world swaying in his vision. His chest ached when he tried to breathe, and he knew at once that Novara had broken something there.

  But, in his swimming vision, he glimpsed Mesquard racing up the dead queen’s back.

  Nay, witch! You shan’t slay my good friend!

  His teeth found purchase on her neck meat, and Riley saw a great chunk of blackened flesh being torn free. Novara hissed, cursing something in her alien language.

  “Mesquard!” Riley shouted trying and failing to struggle to his feet. All in vain. He saw the queen snatch Mesquard with her free hand, moving with inhuman quickly. The poor rat barely made a sound as she squeezed him, snapping his spine like a dry twig.

  “MESQUARD!”

  Riley howled and hurled himself at the Pict queen, rage overcoming his injuries. A harsh cleave of his shotel ripped away more of her ribs, making Novara grunt. She pulled back, but his second swing still cut a portion from her thigh.

  “You bitch! You BITCH!” He saw Mesquard’s lifeless body fall from her grasp, discarded like trash, and that made his blood boil with renewed fury.

  Yet the surprise of his counter attack did not last for long. Novara’s knee swept up and rammed into Riley’s gut, immediately driving the air from his lungs.

  He stumbled on his feet and could do nothing as Novara’s blade swept down, shaving his head from his shoulders.

  DEATH.