A piece of shell. Just a piece of fucking shell.

It was funny, in a strange way, now that Apium himself knew he was dying, how it seemed to trivialize these final moments. Another irony was that he didn’t feel inclined to tell them about the hole in his boot, or about the frostbite that must be destroying his left foot almost as quickly.

‘You want to get up behind me?’ Brynd asked at one point.

‘No, I’m fine. Leave me behind if you need to.’

‘Leave you with that lot? You must be joking.’ Apium followed Brynd’s gaze off into the distance.

The black-shells had now gathered behind in enormous numbers, a huge line of them now clearly visible. If fifty had taken so much effort to kill, the thousands in pursuit would surely destroy them. Apium was desperate not to hold up the others.

The effect of Blavat’s relics consistently failed, and it felt as if he was inhaling knives.

They didn’t train soldiers for this shit.

It went on for hours, this stop-start nightmare chase through the dark. The creatures just kept on coming, and as the Jamur soldiers finally arrived at the ice sheets, the number of enemy had merely increased.

Everyone was beginning to fear that they would never make it to the longships in time, and Apium felt the burden of Brynd’s soft glances towards him.

‘Blavat,’ he wheezed, unexpectedly.

Surprised, the cultist woman steered her horse closer to his. ‘Yes, captain?’

‘Those brenna devices,’ he whispered.

‘What about them?’

‘They’re primed for our men to use them, aren’t they?’

‘They’re ready to use, yes. What about it?’

Another deep breath that sliced through his insides.

Apium said, ‘They work in a chain reaction, yes? I think I might be of some use. In getting you lot away from here.’

‘I can adjust them so as to work in unison, sure. You really fancy taking that lot on by yourself?’

Nothing in her tone to suggest she cared too much, but then why should she? Only Brynd was keeping him with them. ‘Yes. Now we’re on an ice sheet… once I let you all get far enough away, I can detonate the devices so as to cut them off. Once we’ve put water between you and them, you’re safe to get back to Villiren.’

‘And you?’

‘We all know about me. Now, line up those devices.’ He painfully steered his horse towards Brynd.

Apium told him briefly of his intentions.

‘That’s insanity. We’ll get you back.’

‘Who’s the crazy one, Brynd? Who’s the one kidding himself?’

The look in Brynd’s eyes said everything that Apium already knew. He didn’t want to fail a friend, but it just wasn’t practical.

‘What do you want me to say?’ Brynd grunted.

‘You’re supposed to commend me on a good plan. At least this way my fat carcass will be worth something.’ Then, seeing Brynd’s expression of dismay, ‘We’re fucking soldiers, Brynd, just pull yourself together.’

They shook hands, holding their grip longer than necessary.

‘Now… fuck off out of here while you still can,’ he wheezed, forcing a smile.

Apium said brief goodbyes to the men, who stared in confusion. Then he accepted the brenna devices from Blavat, who quickly instructed him in their subtleties.

Into the darkness, he rode for a quarter of an hour until he was face to face with the enemy, with nearly every sharp breath seeming penultimate.

He unwrapped all the brenna devices. He dropped one to the ground, hearing it ping on the ice. He turned his horse sideways, dropping the others in as straight a line as he could manage, while the pain became unendurable. He deposited the last brenna device in the snow, knowing they were all linked up in whatever way Blavat had configured them.

From the clinking and rustling sounds, the enemy had begun to approach.

Sliding from the saddle, Apium gave the last-placed device a gentle twist at its top, barely able to see it in the pitch-black of night.

And with snow whipping against him, all alone in this bleak vista, with his lungs finally collapsing, he wondered vaguely what, if anything, would be waiting for him on the other side.

Behind them, the night sky lit up with an unholy fire.

The ice sheets rocked and lurched and cracked.

The survivors were now close to the longships, where a handful of Jamur sentries stood guard. All of them stood watching this last noble act of Captain Apium Hol.

Nelum realized exactly what had gone on, and silently placed a comforting hand on Brynd’s shoulder. A small gesture, but enough.

Tonight they had witnessed real heroism and who would have thought it would be Apium of all people. Chubby old Apium, more interested in carousing than soldiering?

No time for sentimentality. Brynd muttered a bitter prayer for his dead comrade and gave the command to head south.

FORTY-FOUR

A fresh layer of snow, not that the landscape needed it.

That moment when it had just stopped.

A silence even the air appreciated.

The sun, wherever it was behind all those clouds, was setting – darker and quicker than Dartun had expected. They would make some form of camp here, a cluster of canvas tents pinned to the ice. But what comfort would sleep bring being exposed so far away from solid land?

He looked back at the map, then again regarded the terrain. They had travelled up the western coast without yet engaging with many forms of life. The remoteness appealed to Dartun. Maybe dying didn’t seem to matter so much when he was surrounded by an environment so detached from normal existence – it was like you were halfway there anyway. Dogs barked into the wind. His cultist followers remained dutifully on their sleighs. Dozens of the undead stood motionless, waiting for further instructions.

They were now crossing the ice sheets somewhere to the north-west of Tineag’l. Just a year ago and they would have been walking on water. Instinctively, Dartun knew that he wasn’t far from one of the Realm Gates.

Verain stepped up alongside, placed her hand on his lower back. Thick clothing, a fur hood, and beneath it all she looked so distant. ‘How long, do you think?’

‘Not far. Two hours, maybe three.’

‘Are you getting nervous?’ she asked.

‘Nervous? Why?’

‘I don’t know… because of what we’re discovering. Because we have no idea what to expect on the other side of these gates – if they exist.’

‘They exist,’ he said. ‘They most definitely exist.’

‘So why don’t you feel anything, Dartun? You seem to have switched off your emotions.’

Verain moved to face him directly, placed her hand on his arm in a tender gesture. ‘I no longer know what to make of you. You summon the dead to your side. You drag us all on an expedition to find another world. What am I supposed to make of it? You’ve stopped talking to us – to me. It’s as if the Dartun I knew has died, and you’re not him any more.’

Her words pitter-pattered on, and he tried to ignore them. He was dying: that was the whole point, wasn’t it? But what did she mean, saying that he was already dead? Had he changed so obviously in the face of his sudden mortality?

Night, and a small fire had been built on the surface of the ice, transforming his cultists into strange purple silhouettes. The dogs had fallen silent, bedding down alongside the sleds so that the only sound here was of the wind, haunting and isolating. Undead men and women shambled in patrols around the periphery of the camp. Dartun explained his situation to Verain, and repeated his statement to the rest of the Order of the Equinox. He had never been clear about his immortality to them, but was now candid.