Brynd’s flank spread out along the side with Apium’s waiting briefly then following suit, forming the classic pattern of a pincer attack.

The creatures stood their ground, tilting forward in a uniform movement.

Fifty of them versus over two hundred of the best Jamur soldiers.

Brynd’s horse closed the distance to pull ahead of the opposite flank, instinct leading at this pace of combat. He brought down his cultist-enhanced sabre flaring purple through the falling snow and cleaved the first creature’s skull. It buckled to its knees, but still was taller than any human. The other flanks connected, driving their horses over the enemy. The black armour of their enemy was now distinct against the snow as they lashed out with their claws when the Jamur forces were within range. Brynd could hear his troops howling and grunting all around him as he hacked his way through the enemy. Their shells cracked open and buckled under the ferocious impact of his blows. At first they seemed surprised more than anything, presenting not so tough a challenge, but his soldiers began dropping too. From the corner of his eye he spotted the head of a woman Dragoon getting caught in a giant claw and then her skull exploding as it clamped shut. These weren’t the usual tribesmen armed with a few arrows.

Soon horses were collapsing around him in spectacular numbers, slamming their riders to the ground, where they continued to fight desperately. Brynd’s flank was now severely diminished. But in the end the sheer number of Jamur troops began to prevail, and the last of the horrific creatures were slashed down.

As Brynd dragged his horse out of the bloody scrimmage, a quick head count told him there were only around a hundred Jamur fighters left in all. A hundred of his soldiers had died against just fifty enemy troops.

The survivors, men and women, were pulled from the pulpy mass of the dead and dying, and it wouldn’t be long until the snow covered this dark stain on the landscape. Brynd was greatly relieved that most of his twenty Night Guard were still alive. He couldn’t spot Apium though, so rode up to enquire of Nelum.

‘There,’ Nelum pointed over to one side.

Apium lay beside his horse, still alive, but in obvious pain, one foot still caught in the stirrups. Brynd jumped down, unhooked the foot, noting that his friend had prised off his breast plate and was gingerly fingering his chest. From the look of it, a fragment of enemy carapace had penetrated through his ribs.

Snowflakes melted on the febrile exposed skin.

‘Blavat!’ Brynd looked around for the cultist woman, then waved her towards him.

She dismounted, clutching some relics, placed them to one side. The red-haired man was attempting to speak, but produced only staccato puffs, and Blavat then examined the wound whilst Brynd examined her face.

‘What d’you think?’ he finally asked her.

‘I think I can extract it, but it might have penetrated his lung.’

‘Just do whatever it takes. What about the enhancements we have? Weren’t they meant to help with things like this?’

‘It’s not that easy, since I have no idea what material the enemy’s shells are composed of. It’s nothing I’ve ever seen before, and might not be responsive to my relics.’

‘Commander!’ Nelum drew his attention, gesturing towards one of the creatures they had just vanquished.

He turned to Blavat. ‘Just see what you can do here.’ She responded only with a subtle head movement that could have meant anything. He was constantly prepared for his friends dying in combat, but it wasn’t something Brynd wanted to face now, and not Apium.

Brynd strode over to Nelum, noticing Lupus standing next to him, bow in hand. Two of the creatures had survived, looking like crustaceans strayed from the sea. In some ways they looked partially human, each with two arms, two legs, but replacing skin were those carapaces which made them so formidable. They appeared charred, melted. So this was it then, these were the terrible creatures causing the genocide on Tineag’l. Right now, sitting in a mire of their dead and dying, they didn’t look so impressive. Their bulbous eyes were lid-less as they twitched in sharp movements. But what interested Brynd most was their reaction as Jurro stepped alongside them with a book, some kind of bestiary, in his hand. ‘New creatures, how exciting! Let me see if they are included in here… Damn this index.’

The two captives raked their heads round with clicks to acknowledge the Dawnir’s presence, then seemed to motion with their limbs in a manner Brynd didn’t understand.

It was perhaps a salute, or perhaps some religious gesture. Seemingly they recognized Jurro, which Brynd pointed out to the Dawnir.

‘They know me?’ Jurro stared dumbly.

‘From their reaction to you, they’re familiar with either you, or your breed.’

Brynd wondered what this might mean to one who spent so long hidden in a dark chamber away from prying eyes. Now, to have another creature actually recognize him.

Nelum, ever curious, said, ‘Say something to them, Jurro. See how they react.’

As Jurro bent forward the pair of aliens shied away from his direct gaze.

‘What do you think, Nelum?’

‘Obviously they know what he is, so I’ll bet that wherever they came from, there are more of Jurro’s lot.’

‘Want us to kill them, sir?’ Lupus enquired.

Brynd shook his head. ‘Probably more useful alive.’

Thunder sounded on the horizon and he walked away to squint through the snow. In this monochrome landscape, it was difficult to locate the direction of the plangent sound.

Then he spotted, to the north, a thin line of black.

Barely noticeable, on the furthest hill.

The only patch of darkness against the grey landscape and pale sky.

‘Nelum.’ Brynd summoned him and pointed. ‘More of the same, d’you reckon?’

Nelum regarded the horizon. ‘It looks that way… shit. They’ll destroy us, that number of them. We’ll have to get back to Villiren. Fast.’

‘It’ll take us hours to reach the ice sheets again.’

‘Not necessarily so. We took a meandering path here, took plenty of stops.’

‘Yes, fair point.’

Brynd gave the orders for the two surviving creatures to be bound, alive, but requested Blavat to use some relic to knock them unconscious. All she could really manage was to reinforce the chains that confined them. That would have to do for the moment.

He returned to check on Apium, who was now fading from consciousness. Brynd had noticed that the shell had been removed.

‘You got it out?’ he asked the cultist.

‘No, it disintegrated while we tried to extract it. The remaining part’s still inside him. I’m sorry.’

Apium opened his eyes as if hearing this news. ‘Commander.’ The word emerged as barely more than a breath.

‘Hang in there. We’ll get you strapped on your horse and you’ll be all right.’

Blavat tugged at Brynd’s shoulder, hissed, ‘But he’s going to die. We’ll never get him back in time. He’ll die.’

Brynd stared into her eyes with a feral intensity that made it perfectly clear who was in charge.

‘But the serious wounding is internal. It’s his lungs and-’

‘I don’t give a fuck. I’m not leaving him here. Numb his pain.’

With that he returned to mount his horse, then rode around the remaining group giving orders for an immediate retreat to Villiren.

Apium coughed blood onto the horse’s neck, and when that happened you knew things weren’t looking good. The rhythm of the gallop was making him feel even sicker, and he had to keep stopping, holding the others up. Brynd was constantly looking round to check if his friend was all right. Truth be told, it was as if he was thieving every last breath just to stay alive, and Apium hadn’t a clue how many more hours he would last.