They hurled themselves towards the startled gateway guards as one of the pirates careened round the corner behind them firing his crossbow. The kick sent him sprawling against the far wall, while the bolt whooshed past Hanaman’s ear and tore through the side of a guard’s throat, sending a spray of blood all over the walls. Noksalika jumped over his screaming body, while Hanaman dodged another guard and jabbed him in the face, yelling at the crew outside to saddle up.

The sudden brightness stung Noksalika’s eyes but she carried on running, staggering over the carved tunnel entrances. She caught glimpses of Hanaman’s comrades launching themselves into their saddles and brandishing their weapons, hearing the confused threats of other guards. The bolas-woman was already swinging it uncertainly, waiting for a target; both of the lizardwomen had their shortbows drawn.

She heard Hanaman’s yell, and opened her eyes to find herself in the middle of the llamas, surrounded by loud voices. She had to backtrack several paces to Hanaman’s mount, and had grabbed his elbow with one hand when the first of the pirates sprang out of the passage – both lizardwomen let fly with arrows, but only after he’d hurled a throwing star that buried itself into the tattooed man’s eye socket with a scream. He fell spasming to the ground, blood oozing into the sand-coloured dirt.

‘Go!’ barked Hanaman, his throat sore. Noksalika hauled herself up and clung on in terror. ‘Go!’

The ones with just hand weapons turned to the exit tunnel, fiercely geeing up their steeds. A crossbow bolt came out of nowhere – presumably a guard at one of the other passage entrances – and split the first llama’s skull, sending it crashing to the ground and blocking some of the way. More bolts flew down, killing a woman who Noksalika couldn’t remember the name of. Another ugly mantrel drew up at the edge of the passageway, but ducked Taumina and Taupua’s arrows. He quickly fired back a shot from a crossbow taken from one of the guards which split open Taumina’s thigh; red flesh splayed open under the dark brown denim and green skin. She simply looked shocked, and let out a long growl sending arrow after arrow up into the passageway.

‘Hanaman!’ Noksalika yelled in his ear, point to the open part of the tunnel. ‘Get us out of here!’

A roar came from above and to the left; she gasped as she saw the huge bulk of the Captain appear behind two guards in another passage entrance, kicking one over the edge with a mighty foot and killing the other with a mighty punch to the chest. He bellowed, eyes full of mad fury, and hurled what looked like a ceremonial spear through the air. It missed Hanaman’s foot by a whisker, making a horrible clang as its metal head jarred against the ground and bounced off. He yelled and kicked his heels, and the llama leapt and ran.

From a dozen there were now seven, three of them wounded. Noksalika couldn’t face their eyes. She was the reason they were dead.

‘What now Freegeneral?’ said a female mantrel bitterly. Her black and red hair framed her face dirtily, brushing her strong shoulders. She was the one with bolas, which meant her name was Uidesca. The other one with black and red hair had died. Noksalika thankfully hadn’t seen how, and couldn’t even remember her name, but still somehow felt haunted. ‘What do you want from us now?’

They’d fled the tunnel, the village and region, keeping to main roads but avoiding people wherever they could – sooner or later word would get out and spread faster than they could run. They had no idea how close the pirates were until a clear day in an open cavern when they saw dark figures four or five miles behind giving chase on what looked like small desert horses. It was hard to tell at such a distance, but all the figures seemed too small to be the Captain.

It was dusk, light fading. They’d stopped by some scrub; Noksalika had helped Hanaman and the uninjured two cut open a cactus and drain the cream to treat the others’ wounds. They would have made a fire if there had been any firewood, but there wasn’t, so they just sat in a circle.

Hanaman looked up at her. ‘I want your respect. I don’t mind what you do now. Just keep me that.’ He sounded firm, but Noksalika could see he was tired, and could see the lines in his face.

‘It’s very difficult, Freegeneral,’ said Taumina, sitting on her pack holding her leg. The wound had stopped bleeding but looked hideous. ‘It’s very difficult.’

‘I told you all it’d be risky. I explained the situation.’

‘You didn’t mention the death-trap part of the mission,’ snapped Taupua, standing above her sister. ‘You screwed up, right? You do realise that?’

Noksalika noted how when everything had been fine, they’d said almost nothing; now things were bad, their voices were scary, scathing. Taupua and Taumina’s strange beauty had become striking and cold.

‘What do you want me to say?’ replied Hanaman. ‘The entire world as we know it is in the shit. This woman—’ he pointed at Noksalika, ‘—this woman was my best shot at getting those bastards we think are in charge to listen.’

‘Huh, was,’ growled the woman Annabelli next to her, arm limp in her lap, ligaments torn open at the elbow.

‘Hey, hey,’ protested Noksalika, leaning away from her.

‘She’s the reason half of us are dead, half the rest are fucked – and now she’s not even important?’ Noksalika looked edgily at the male mantrel sitting opposite her. His name was Ossbury. He had short, spiky brown hair between his horns and narrow eyes … or maybe he was just angry. A throwing star had slashed open his right side by a couple of inches, so it was understandable. ‘I was thinking of leaving, goin’ native here and leaving you lot to it. But those pirates just want her. I say we give her to ’em.’

There was a shift by everyone, hinting at the possibility of physically doing exactly that. ‘Whoah whoah whoah,’ she said, standing up and edging back a step or two. Throughout her infamous career of wondrous music and debauched pornography she’d been saving up the phrase “Do you know who I am?” for when she really needed it, but suddenly suspected now wasn’t the right time. ‘Look, okay, right, Hanaman didn’t know what was going to happen, right? We left the pirates bloody miles behind, there’s, like, no way we could’ve known they were there, yeah?’ she pleaded, resorting to reason. We didn’t see them anywhere near us back in the real world, back with the Ethe, she thought as they looked hungrily at her. There must be a waterway inland.

‘Give a shit,’ said Ossbury in a surly voice.

‘And, so, um…’ Noksalika ignored him nervously, trying to think.

‘They’re not that far away,’ said Taupua in a worryingly rational voice. ‘We could just turn back and hand her over, no worries.’

‘Look! I’ve got a deal!’ she blurted out. Hanaman joined the others in looking at her; there was an expectant pause, which was all she needed. ‘I’ve got this deal. To change my identity. These guys at the top, in the Committees, they wanted me for some secret stuff, right? So they changed my identity, that’s all part of it, and I’ve got to get to Rhajallington to carry out this mission…’ They were all waiting on her words, she could tell even in the half-light – except Hanaman, whose eyebrows had slipped into the subtlest of frowns. ‘…So we just need to get over the border, right, back into the Ethe, and everyone’s injuries should heal up pretty quickly then. And I can make your safety part of my deal with these guys. So we’ll just have to get to Rhajallington, right, and it’ll all be okay.’

The air quickly returned to silence, the darkness between them all thickening.

‘I still say my idea’s easier,’ said Taupua. But something in the tone sounded just slightly unconvinced that this, handing her back, was the immediate future.

‘Sounds like a plan,’ said Hanaman standing up, as if to nail the pacifying mood before things turned nasty again. ‘Any of you can go when you want. If they want Noksalika and you’re not around, they won’t go after you. Come with us, get her safely to Rhajallington and you’ll be heroes to the Committees. They notice when people do well. Either way.’

More silence greeted him when he finished, but the remaining crew members looked away or at the ground, unwilling to argue any more.

They ate some of the last of the rations, got back in the saddle, and carried on riding in the darkness.

The border was four days’ ride away. There was another bar.

They’d gotten back on the main roads during the daytime for more speed, keeping off-road in the dark and around towns and villages where locals were hunting for them. News of the Kingminister’s death had spread quickly, and all strangers were even less welcome than normal.

As well as a bar, there were also golems.

The bar was part of a larger security station, which was obviously intended to keep people of the Ethe in rather than shutting foreigners out. Noksalika found it strange coming up behind the blank walls of government sheds and the backs of the giant black golems. She half-expected them to jump on her as she crossed the border, the magic invisible skin keeping civilisation from leaking out everywhere – everyone else seemed to be after her – but they just breathed heavily inside their helmets, uninterested.

Hello Tarabonitz, she thought to herself as she and Hanaman rode in. The Ethe lit up in her brain again, a tiny flood of bright lights and detailed universes – and yet she was encased in armour once more, weighed down by the photos and files and memories of somebody else.

They stopped for a drink. It was a sombre one, but with the threat of bloodthirsty settlers off their mind, everyone felt they deserved it. Noksalika was so tired she felt asleep briefly against the bar and had to be hauled up by an equally exhausted Hanaman.

‘So this “secret mission” of yours.’ He relaxed a little in the saddle; the road was suddenly flatter and easier, smoothed by engineers and the power of the Ethe. ‘Nice idea. Certainly bought you some time.’

‘What, don’t you believe me?’ she said, glad he couldn’t see her face.

‘I believe you’ve done a deal.’

‘Well there you go.’

‘Means nothing. What’s waiting for you in Rhajallington?’

‘You’ll see.’

They travelled well, with speed but without rushing. The various wounds healed, and – despite their ragged connections and various standings – they were all citizens of the Ethe, and if no-one wanted them dead now, then they’d be protected from the chasing pirates. They could be seen on the Ethe, quite far behind – there were eight of them. The rest, including the Captain, hadn’t emerged from Goltangi.

‘Freegeneral,’ cooed an old voice on the Ethe. It was Elder Svokia. ‘We see you are online again.’

Hanaman’s shoudlers tightened sharply, nerves jangling. ‘Elder Svokia, my manager and superior,’ he spat in his head grimly. He tried to keep his breathing calm as anger rose in his gut.

‘Oh dear, no need to sound so sarcastic,’ she continued coldly. ‘Just wanted to say, sorry things didn’t work out.’

‘Work out for who?!’ he growled, memories of blood and betrayal flashing through his brain. But she was gone.

Rhajallington loomed on the horizon, as did the edge of the world. Noksalika remembered taking trips on the massive cruiser ships, entertaining the hundreds they carried from port to port. She remembered looking out into the endless Channelsea, scanning its murky purple depths and seeing nothing, absolutely nothing. She dreamt it could be that way again, just in a different way, because it was now a different time.

She crossed her fingers in hope.

‘What now?’

The city was physically as Noksalika remembered it, old and vast and magnificent. But it seemed empty of people, as they rode in on the main tunnel into the city centre. According to the Ethe, the crowds had gone to the docks, with the ships all full.

Far, far to the South, an ominous emptiness lurked where people and land and life once were.

‘Eh?’ she said, bringing her attention back.

‘We’re nearly there and you’ve told us nothing,’ whispered Hanaman. The others either didn’t hear or pretended not to. ‘Have you contacted your face-in-the-wall guy?’

‘Yes,’ she lied nervously. Piarowef hadn’t shown up since the escape from the palace complex, no matter how much Noksalika had pleaded verbally and on the Ethe to talk to him.

‘Well? What did he say?’

‘Oh, this and that.’

‘You could at least sound convincing,’ Hanaman hissed.

‘Everything’s fine, it’s fine. Damn, you worry like an old woman.’ Piarowef? she thought. Piarowef you big bag of shit. You wanted me here, I’m here. Now would be a good time to show up.

The llamas wandered purposefully down the touristy avenue, lined above and below with short ornamental trees and tacky shops of crafts and souvenirs. The shops were empty. Only a few random people walked the streets, all of them seemingly heading towards the city centre.

Hanaman turned to flash her a dirty look. ‘Seems to me like you don’t know what the hell’s goi-’

‘Miss Suhanrohan?’ They all wheeled round on their steeds to see a man in a casual suit behind them, casually strolling across the street. ‘Miss Suhanrohan, you are expected at the Jade Monument.’ He waved, then dropped into another passageway, out of sight.

Noksalika opened her mouth to call out, but it suddenly broadened into a smile. ‘See? Told you so,’ she whispered smugly into Hanaman’s ear.

The Jade Monument was a very insignificant thing – a single carved piece of jade maybe four feet long, nice enough but rather cheapened by the quartz plinth it was fixed on. However, it was the location that was important. It stood in the middle of a circular plaza in the business district, a long cavern in the centre of the Rhajallington peninsula. The fronts of offices faced them on all sides, some of them darkly modernist, some playfully colourful, and all bizarrely mixed up together.

There were people around, but fewer than she expected of a busy city, and the centre of the plaza was ominously empty. They circled the edge, passing strangers who didn’t question them or the llamas.

‘There’s no-one here,’ said Taumina flatly. She pulled out her bow carefully, her transparent lids flashing quickly over her eyes.

‘No-one who wants to meet openly,’ added Ossbury darkly.

Noksalika said nothing. On the Ethe she was scanning the buildings and the trendy offices but couldn’t find anything, couldn’t see anything. Where were the departments? There were university blocks, engineering workshops, agricultural seminar halls, but nothing she wanted. Where were the government offices? There were the usual security compounds with golems standing idly by, but nothing she wanted. Where were – where were the fucking Committee offices? There were film studios, music label offices, animal training centres, but nothing else, nothing important…

An Ethe connection opened in Hanaman’s head.

‘Freegeneral, so glad you could join the party,’ said Elder Svokia.

‘Get dow-!’ was all he could manage before the arrows rained on them from above; she was only halfway through her sentence when his instincts kicked in and he simultaneously ducked down and pushed Noksalika back. She felt unbalanced on the back of the saddle, and as an arrow flew past Hanaman’s face and buried in the back of the llama’s neck. The beast went crazy and started running and kicking, knocking both of them off.

‘Did you think I’d just give you up?’ brayed a familiar voice. Noksalika scrambled to her feet and saw the Captain emerging from a gothic doorframe behind her. He strode out with a coarse boldness, legs like tree trunks and veins swollen under thick skin. But more frightening than his huge stature was his huge, crazy eyes that owned her with their mad blue stare.

Two archers followed behind his huge frame with bows and crossbows. In a cold flash, Noksalika saw these weren’t the Captain’s ramshackle mantrel pirates – these were men, masked and dressed in grey-black, silent and trained.

The Captain snorted as he broke into a run towards her.

Waterways. Faster than land.

Any bystanders who could have helped had screamed and run off; Hanaman had no weapon, Taumina was lying dead with an arrow in the heart, and Ossbury with a bolt in the face. Taupua fired a shot at the Captain but barely grazed his shoulder; Annabelli was lying screaming on her side with two arrows in her belly. Noksalika gaped at the minotaur charging right at her.

Uidesca hurled the bolas with a yell, and the Captain had a moment to register startled surprise before the binding wrapped round his left leg and the metals balls crunched just below the knee. His huge body came crashing to the flagstones as he let out a monstrous roar of pain.

‘Run!’ Uidesca shouted, backing away. ‘I’ve got-’

An arrow sliced through the back of her head, sending her tumbling to the ground, body twitching.

Noksalika launched herself upright, saw Hanaman snatching the bow and quiver of arrows from Taumina’s body and joined him bolting towards an alley that cut downwards at right angles from the plaza. Llamas ran around bleating and wounded, shielding them in chaos; from the corner of her eye she saw Taupua on foot ducking and weaving her way towards the alley too, loosing arrows up at the office windows around them.

Suddenly blood sprayed up at her and Hanaman cried out, tumbling to the floor with a crossbow bolt buried in his thigh muscles. She turned and grabbed at his arms, trying to drag him upwards for the last few paces to the alley, but then shrieked in agony as an arrow tore into the side of her belly. She fell down alongside him gasping – she’d never felt pain like this, never, never this wretched scalding like she was being fucked in the guts by a poker wrapped in barbed wire. She saw Taupua’s green face above, stern and silent, as the lizardwoman fired shot after shot behind them.

‘That’s at least three,’ she whispered, grabbing Noksalika under the arm. Somehow Hanaman was standing again and took her other side, and she was being dragged just towards the alleyway. ‘There’s not that many of them, they just took us by surprise.’

And with that, a throwing star lodged in the side of her face, spraying more dark blood everywhere. Noksalika was suddenly lopsided as the body of the lizardwoman lost her grip slightly, then another two found their way into her neck and chin, jagged points sticking out mercilessly. An arrow ricocheted off the stones beside them.

Somehow she found the strength in her legs and her burning torso muscles to push herself to her feet. Clasping each other, she and Hanaman staggered round the corner into the alley and hurried as fast they could while bleeding and wounded. They emerged in ornate gardens amongst more old business-like buildings – hedges, flowers, benches and little lawns with cut edges were arranged very primly and neatly.

‘Hanaman,’ she gasped loudly, staggering around, looking up at the old buildings of yellow stone. ‘Hanaman, in cities, there’s, like, places where the Committees meet, right?’

‘What do you mean?’ puffed Hanaman, limping.

‘You know, I’m really sorry about your mission,’ the sickly old voice of Elder Svokia said to him on the Ethe. ‘But you have to understand, Hanaman…’

Noksalika sucked in air heavily and let out a growl, which became a long whine. ‘Like, where do they meet, right? There’s got to be somewhere where they meet to have coffee and talk bullshit and arrange meetings, right? Somewhere in cities? Right?’

‘I don’t know!’ he shouted, looking around for cover and scanning for other entrances to the gardens.

‘…We couldn’t let you go ahead with your plan,’ continued Svokia. ‘I mean, it was a ridiculous plan, but our best minds thought it had a good chance of actually succeeding. You know why we couldn’t let it happen?’

‘Arrrrgh! Piarowef? Piarowef are you there?!’ Noksalika pulled at her ragged hair and lurched from side to side, clearly delirious from the pain – but something else, too. Hanaman took cover by crawling onto a bench and lying horizontal.

‘Piarowef!’ she screamed up into the air. ‘Piarowef you bastard, you lied to me!’

‘Fucking get down will you!’ snapped Hanaman at her. A bolt flashed through the air near her face and she collapsed by a rose bush on the opposite side of the lawn. Hanaman quickly leaned up and loosed an arrow in a fluid movement, resulting in a scream.

‘Goltangi has iron, Freegeneral!’ said Svokia almost boastfully. ‘Thousands and thousands of cubic miles of iron. Oh the Committees like to go on about the “natural” way of the Ethe, but their people are getting fucked left right and centre by those alien barbarians in the South because they have no iron left to fight with!’

‘There’s nowhere,’ Noksalika sniffed, lying back in the dirty of the flowerbed, tearful. ‘They promised me a place … they said they wanted me…’

‘Who’s “they”?’ said Hanaman, fitting another arrow speedily, trying to close the connection with Svokia, trying to shut her out.

‘…they wanted me for a, a position…’ Noksalika continued, ignoring him. ‘A real position … a real, important position … they arranged everything … they f-f-fucking wanted me and they fucking lied…’

‘We can fight these things, we can survive this invasion,’ Svokia went on, voice swollen with pride. ‘But not if we share that iron with those bureaucratic Committee pricks. We’re already taking steps to secure the border, never mind the politics. So I suppose you don’t actually have to die,’ she reflected. ‘But then, a deal is a deal…’

Hanaman leaned up and flinched as a throwing star flashed past him, decapitating several rose heads. He leaned up again to see an archer, masked and dressed in grey-black, creeping into the gardens. His shot managed to pierce the archer’s skull, felling him without a sound as Noksalika continued to gabble despairingly.

‘…they said there was somewhere, somewhere in the big city, but there’s nowhere, they don’t have their coffee anywhere, they don’t have their meetings anywhere, they just do all their shit and run our lives from the Ethe…’

He ignored her, desperately summoning the will not to yell out at the pain in his leg. She trailed off, muttering to herself, finally falling quiet as she lost the will to speak.

They waited, panting, both bleeding. Blood dripped through the wooden beams of Hanaman’s bench.

‘Don’t suppose,’ Noksalika puffed through the pain, looking over at him, ‘you’re a doctor?’

Hanaman turned to look back at her, shaking his head, smiling.

‘Or … some kind of … wizard?’

He chuckled. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll patch you up.’

‘Cheers.’

There was quiet; nothing moved. The sweet smell of roses entered Noksalika’s system as her nostrils gulped up air.

‘Do you think that’s it?’ Hanaman said.

She shrugged painfully. ‘Dunno.’

He chuckled to himself, shaking his head, and put the bow over one arm to push himself upright from the bench. ‘Aw look at you, that’s barely a scratch!’

‘Fuck you,’ she giggled, blood all over her hands.

‘Seriously,’ he said stepping uncertainly over the grass towards her, ‘back in my day, when I was doing real missions I—’

Hanaman’s head exploded as a metal ball struck it from the side, bits of horn and skull and blood and brain flying everywhere as his body was carried forward a whole yard through the air before crumpling into the neatly-cut grass.

‘Noooo!’ shrieked Noksalika with as much breath as she had left. She reached up and heaved her torso forwards to see Hanaman’s body lying dead on the ground, dead dead dead, because no-one could be alive with that much brain missing, dead dead dead.

‘Miss me, darling?’ grinned the Captain crazily, limping heavily through the shrubs away to the right. His broken leg oozed thick, congealing blood all over his foot and the ground behind him. In his left hand, he held the other silver ball of the bolas with the leather binding still attached. His ice-blue eyes were livid with pain and fury.

Her heart dropped out from under her, and she rolled over in blind panic, scratching with her nails at the soil and kicking with her feet to pull herself away, away from him. The pain in her side made her groan involuntarily through gritted teeth, but she couldn’t move fast enough, she couldn’t move fast enough, and a mighty hand gripped her shoulder and spun her round. She stared up at that huge familiar head with the broken horn and wild bull eyes and gaping nostrils.

The Captain’s massive chest rose and fell with his heavy breathing. He smiled down at her with big, chunky teeth, and snarled.

‘Say goodnight, princess,’ he said, and slammed a fist the size of her head into her face.

She woke in a dark space in extraordinary pain. She could barely see anything, and spent several minutes blinking to make sure her eyes were open. But when she tried to move her face she couldn’t – her jaw muscles strained painfully on bits of torn flesh and shattered pieces of bone. She sniffed, and felt air in the place where her nose and upper jaw should have been. Her face felt sticky.

She was alone in a dark space, tied up, hands behind her back. Her side still hurt like hell even from breathing. A rank odour polluted the dry, dusty air. She’d pissed herself while unconscious.

Somehow she pushed herself into a kneeling position. Now she could see. Around her were boxes, crates and packages, the edges lit up by a very dim glow. She turned her head and saw a porthole. Outside was just empty, vacant purple.

A small shape appeared behind the glass.

More shapes appeared with it, tiny little shapes. She couldn’t see them very well, everything was so dark. But they looked like silver arrowheads, darting about in the space behind the porthole. They moved carefully, together, tapping up against the glass and circling in sync with each other.

She felt her eyes burn with wetness, and she started crying, wincing at the pain and the horrible fleshy sounds of her snivelling.

‘Help me,’ she cried, rasping as best she could with the remains of her face. ‘Help me.’

But they couldn’t hear.

The FINAL Chapter is out Sunday 9th August 2009 (hover for preview!)

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