Villainous [Wattys 2021 Shortlist]

39: Death On Swift Wings

Bone crunched. Black blood oozed from split flesh. One sword shrieked against another, and the snap of wood echoed as a shield shattered.

Delilah watched the fighting below her stone mezzanine with a mask of ice to conceal her expressions. She watched the larger undead soldier pin down his opponent, delivering a blow to the neck that should kill him.

Except it didn't, because his opponent was already dead, of course.

The overseer cracked his whip and a group of humans in thick head-to-toe armour ran to wrestle the two apart. They were panting from exertion by the time they'd shut them back into their respective pens.

The undead had been in Irkalla for a few weeks now, and they'd discovered that the former soldiers hadn't forgotten any of their training. Most of their humanity and rational thoughts had been leeched away from their time in the Spectral Realm, leaving stone-cold killers behind. And they were always ready to attack whatever was in front of them.

Dante had sent Delilah to inspect the training so far, and the overseer had already told her it consisted of pitting the legions against each other, trying to figure out the different fighting styles and weaknesses so they would know how best to use them when on the battlefield.

Delilah, too, had been training every day: she woke early to go through an exercise routine, and used her frequent visits to Safir to practice running at high altitudes. She could feel her body toning, her muscles growing rigid and firm. She sparred with Kaya or Nell nearly every day.

Satisfied, Delilah turned and swept from the training pits. She made her way to Dante's study, where she found him deep in thought as he read a stack of ancient-looking papers.

Delilah reeled off her report to him, finishing with, "It's all going relatively smoothly."

"Good." He hadn't even looked at her, still focused on the text.

"What's that?"

"Nothing of concern to you."

She ground her teeth. "Fine. Am I excused, Your Highness?"

"For now."

She stormed out, cursing him under her breath. It was time to visit Safir, so she crept towards the kitchens - she knew the best and quietest tunnels now.

She could navigate them in the dark, and most had no lights at all, which was just as well. But this time, as she picked her way through the black, she realised there was an orange light dancing a few metres away.

Delilah instantly pressed herself against the wall, straining to hear voices. Who was out here, and why? Had Dante sent someone to follow her? Did he suspect? Maybe one of those cowardly guards had ratted her out, told him about Safir.

Think like Nell. Think like Nell. She slid her way towards the light, silent except for her jacket scraping over rock.

It was a group of soldiers, one of whom held a lantern.

A terrified female scream.

Delilah narrowed her eyes - there was a girl with them, her hair held tightly by one of the men. Another had taken a pouch of money from her, and they were laughing as she sobbed, trying to snatch it back.

"Please! This is all I have! My family -"

"Quiet, girl." A soldier shoved her against the wall, and Delilah heard her nose crunch. Another one boxed her ears.

Delilah didn't think. She surged forwards and became death incarnate. In a whirl of her knives, the first one fell - before he could even see her face. Delilah jumped over his body and into the light, her hair a glowing firebrand as she snarled and gutted the second man with one fluid movement.