The sun began its slow descent towards the unforgiving sea.  In the distance, in the deeper water surrounding the island, huge icebergs were dragged along by massive arctic currents.  From time to time, the submerged mountains of ice would collide, sending plumes of frozen debris into the deep blue sky.  

         Usnach – the Empty Isle – was anything but empty.  The last battalion of troops had disembarked from their transports hours earlier and now the Myrran soldiers had nothing to do but wait.  Usnach was a wasteland of ice and had no remarkable features other than its distinct lack of remarkable features.  The island was relatively flat, rising to no more than 150 feet at its highest point.  It was a vaguely oval landmass, no more than five leagues long and three leagues wide. 

          Other than the Myrran troops, there was no sign of life on the island, which contrasted starkly with surrounding seas; fifty yards off the southern shore, a massive pod of leviatha had breached the water, feeding on the enormous shoals of krilla they had herded near the surface.  High above, flocks of arctic vultira wheeled around in the sky, as if possessing a prescient knowledge of the slaughter that was about to take place on the island.

          The Myrran troops had come ashore at the shattered remains of a Tuirrenian fort, the remnants of a war waged long ago.  The fog that had shrouded the island had long since dissipated and a bitterly cold wind raced across the frozen tundra.  

 

 

It was an impressive sight.  At least ten thousand trained soldiers had been assembled across the frozen tundra, and these warriors had been joined by hundreds of Myrrans who had never held a weapon before – Sapphyrro, Nessans, even a large bury of Mabbits.  The armies had been spread out across the eastern coast of Usnach, from the northern cliffs to the southern bay.

          Pylos Castalia had been appointed General of the Myrran army.  It was a position he accepted reluctantly.  Whilst the opportunity to stop Caliban was one he relished, he did not like the thought of leading so many untrained soldiers to war.  From a small hill in the centre of the staging area he sat astride his snorse Lampetia and watched the volunteers collect their weapons from the master-at arms.  He watched them handle the newly-forged swords and was not filled with confidence.

          ‘Every person helps,’ said Pedaeus Rhodes who was mounted on a large snorse mare wearing battle armour.  Pedaeus had pulled himself out of political service to fight this last fight.

          ‘Helps who?’ Pylos said sombrely.  ‘They’ll be dead ere long.’

          Pedaeus laughed at his friend’s grim outlook.  ‘Well, you’re in cheery spirits!’

          Pylos ignored Pedaeus’ sarcasm.  He turned to the west and surveyed the island.  ‘This is a site well chosen,’ he said as his eyes roamed over the white wasteland.  ‘Remiel knew what he was doing.’

          ‘What do you mean?’ exclaimed Sela who had been given command of the remaining males of Nuadu and the Tamuans’ centuries-old enemy, the Sedomo.  ‘I could not imagine a more inhospitable place for a final confrontation.  My soldiers are already feeling the strain of just being here.  Breathing in this freezing air is like inhaling shards of glass.  And it’s bad enough waiting for the Ghul, but many of the Sedomo are nervous about waiting for the dead to appear.’

          ‘The dead won’t harm them,’ Pylos reassured her.  ‘They may well inspire them.  The soldiers need to be reminded of Caliban’s atrocities.  Twilight is almost upon us and Caliban’s victims will soon arrive.’

          ‘You believe in all that nonsense Pylos?’

          ‘I have seen it before, Pedaeus.  Why do you doubt such a thing?  When you think of all the wonders of the world, all the things that defy our explanation, is it so unbelievable that the powerful spirits that burn within us would seek out a new home when this shell is cracked and broken?  In the brief pause before night, you will see the ghosts of the dead.’

          Pedaeus looked quizzically at his friend.  ‘Pylos, do you think that’s why Remiel Grayson chose this venue?  To remind us of what we are fighting for?’

          Pylos nodded.  ‘That’s partly it, but there’s more.  We are far north and it is the height of summer.  When the sun sets, she will not stay asleep for long.  Sunrise will follow sunset within hours.’

          ‘So?’  Pedaeus did not see what Pylos was implying.

          ‘The Ghul will attack as soon as the sun goes down and their attack will be predictable as they must defeat our forces within a couple of hours.  If we can prolong the battle, the Ghul will burn under this arctic sun.  Caliban has made a fatal error in allowing Remiel to choose the day.  Had he chosen midwinter, when this island would be kept in darkness, we would not have stood a chance.  And yet…’

          Pedaeus’ brow furrowed as Pylos’ hinted at a nagging doubt.  ‘And yet what?’

          Pylos shook his head as he thought over the details.  He had ruminated upon the place and time of the battle for many days, wondering how a man so calculating and methodical as Caliban could fail to see the advantage he had handed the Myrran forces.  ‘I find it difficult to accept that a mind as sharp as Caliban’s could overlook such an obvious detail.’

          ‘Why… you said he was as mad as a Tethran beggar,’ responded Pedaeus.  He’s probably so obsessed with wiping us all from the world that an obscure detail such as daylight hours in the arctic seas was not considered.’

          Pylos exhaled a long breath.  Tiny frozen droplets sparkled in the golden light that was spreading across the island, illuminating the Myrrans dramatically as they faced westward looking out across the frozen breach.

          ‘No.  I doubt Caliban has overlooked anything.  He’s systematic and thorough – it is in the minutia of the moment that his strategies lie.’

          Pedaeus shrugged.  ‘I didn’t understand anything you just said!  Who uses a word like minutia anyway?’

          Pylos beamed, proud of the impression his choice of language had made.  ‘I heard Mulupo once use it.  He was the Spriggan who had accompanied us on the trek to Caliban’s End.’  

          ‘I remember him from the Assembly in the Cloud Chamber a year ago,’ Pedaeus laughed.  ‘He was drunk that day wasn’t he?’

          Pylos sighed.  ‘That assembly seems a lifetime ago.  So much has happened since.  So many people have died.’

          ‘The world has changed, Pylos.  The people are scared.  They no longer have faith in our ability to protect them.  Chaos has come.  Crime flourishes across the lands and the Magistrates can’t keep control.  Before I left Terminus I heard that the Hulks had disappeared from Murdertown.  The world’s criminals have been set loose.  Even in the unlikely event we win this battle, we will return to a world that will never be the same.’

          ‘Then it’s up to us to put it right, Pedaeus.’

 

 

The sun was beginning to fatten as it gorged itself on the water of the Oshalla Ocean to the west.  Soon the dead would appear.  Pylos, who had been to Usnach once before and had witnessed the twilight ceremony, was quite at ease with the event about to take place.  His mind was on what awaited them once twilight had passed.  ‘Tell the captains to light the bonfires.  The Ghul will be upon us within the hour.’

          Pedaeus Rhodes saluted his general, and spurred his snorse down the hill, quickly vanishing in the throng of soldiers surrounding the frozen knoll.

 

 

Pylos gazed over to his left where Jehenna Canna was addressing her captains.  Dressed in full Acoran armour, she sat astride a large, black snorse also bedecked in silver and bronze armour.  Jehenna was pointing out various strategic aspects to the topography of the island.  She presented a range of stratagems for every conceivable contingency.  Her captains were focused on her every word she had to say and it was clear she had their unequivocal respect.  

          When she was done, Jehenna dismissed her officers and climbed down from her snorse.   She took off her elegantly crafted helm and handed it to her squire.  Her raven tresses stretched out on the wind and Pylos thought that he had never seen anything more beautiful.  She was fifty yards away and he felt safe that he could observe her without being caught.

          He was wrong – he had not gazed for more than ten seconds when she looked up, stared directly into his eyes and smiled.

 

 

‘Captain Gudrun – a word with you,’ Pylos said to the squat Sessymirian who had been given command of his country’s troops.   ‘What is in the crates you bring?’

          ‘Potions, General.  It is a preventative measure.  Some months ago, the Ghul attacked a factory in Skirnir.  A number of items were stolen.’

          ‘Items?’

          The gruff captain looked somewhat abashed.  ‘Yes sir.’

          ‘What were the items Captain?’

          ‘The vials contain an agent that will cause blindness in those exposed to it.  It is my guess that the traitor Lokasenna Hagen informed the Ghul where the vials were stored.’

          Pylos looked annoyed.  ‘So the Sessymirians have been acquiring illegal potions to use upon their enemies,’ he grunted.

          Gudrun’s shied away from Pylos’ show of contempt.  He bowed differentially.  ‘It is my hope that what I share with you now will go a small way to redress the mistakes of the past.  These drums are full of a potable that will nullify the effects of the blinding agent.’

          Pylos scrutinized the man.  It seemed he was being sincere.  ‘Distribute the contents amongst all our forces.  I hope you have enough.’

          ‘Yes, sir.  We have brought enough for the entire army.  Our alchemists have been working non-stop since we discovered the theft.’

          ‘How will the Ghul deploy the blinding agent?  Do they know what to do with it?’

          Gudrun nodded.  ‘Lokasenna would know.  The poison can be mixed with water and administered in vast quantities.  There was a time when we thought to use it to poison our enemies but the agent is so foul smelling, it was considered a little heavy-handed for our needs.’

          ‘So you’ll recognise it, if it is used against us?’

          For the first time since their conversation started, Gudrun smiled.  ‘Yes sir.  Without question.’

          Pylos thought about this and then returned the smile.  ‘Perhaps we can use this to our benefit.’

 

 

The departing sun painted the Myrran troops in golden hues.  They looked heroic in the fading light of day.  It was with a heavy heart that Pylos realised that it would probably be the last sunset they ever saw.   

         He sat down on the frozen ground and placed his head in his hands, just as the Chamberlain had when Pylos told him the news.

 

---

 

He had hoped the Helyan’s return would be a triumph of the most simple kind – Caliban Grayson has been disposed of and the Ghul had retreated to the darkest corners of the Endless, unwilling to venture forth without the leadership Caliban had provided.

          ‘And you actually agreed to Caliban’s proposal?’ the Chamberlain said, unwilling to lift his head from his hands.

          Pylos stared back at the Chamberlain, his face devoid of emotion, but his heart in turmoil.  The mission had failed and the Chamberlain’s disappointment was excruciatingly obvious.  No-one had returned a hero.  Pylos did not even feel he had returned as a soldier.  He was nothing more than an emissary, bearing news that the Myr would soon be at war.

          Llyr’s emotions tumbled out of his heart and successively revealed themselves to Pylos.  He was angry that he – the Chamberlain – was being told that he would be sending the nations of the Myr to war.  He was embarrassed that he had been manipulated into delivering Remiel Grayson to Caliban and he was upset over the losses the ill-fated mission had sustained.

          ‘It would have been better to go to war when this all started,’ Pylos stated.  ‘Sending out the assassination squads was a mistake.  We have given Caliban time to prepare.  The Pryderi have joined him in great numbers.  He has found more Cabal to fight for him.  And in the months since the Assembly of Nations he has opened more and more breaches and used them to whittle away Myrran forces.  Had we committed to war months ago, we might have beaten him.’

          ‘Are you saying we can’t beat him now, General?’

          ‘I do not know, Your Grace.  I do not believe the odds are in our favour.’

          ‘But he has what he sought.  He has his brother.  He has no quarrel with us.  Why does he desire war?’

          ‘That I can answer.  Engaging us in war will achieve two things.  Firstly, it will satiate the bloodlust of his troops.  The bloodshed of battle is reward for their loyal service.’

          ‘And the misery that will follow is his revenge upon his brother.’

          ‘Yes, Your Grace.  Remiel Grayson will be kept alive to witness the tragedy.’

          ‘Penance.  Caliban requires his twin to serve penance.  I understand now.  The annihilation of the Myr is not Caliban’s goal.  It is just a means to an end.’

          ‘We have no option but to go to war.’  Pylos spoke plainly.  There was little inflection in his voice.  His tone was measured.  He had accepted the catastrophe to come.  All he could do now was fight.  He knew how to do that.  ‘Caliban has guaranteed us a cessation of Ghul and Cabal attacks.  His forces will retreat to the Endless and leave the people of the Myr alone.  But on the summer solstice, we must face him on the icy plains of Usnach.’

          ‘The Empty Isle?  Why there?’

          ‘The venue was not chosen by Caliban.  He let his brother decide where this conflict would be ended.’

          ‘And he chose Usnach?’

          ‘I have dwelt upon Remiel’s choice since leaving the Endless.  At first I thought his decision was made out of a perverse form of nostalgia.  One of the few things that connected the Grayson twins was their love of Siege.  The game was invented over two hundred years ago after a terrible battle fought upon Usnach.’

          ‘Yes, General, I know my history, but this seems a rather tenuous reason to fight there again.’

          ‘I agree, Your Grace.  Although I could not say I really knew Remiel Grayson, I knew him well enough to dismiss this hypothesis.’ 

          ‘It would seem the river of Remiel Grayson’s mind runs deep.  Perhaps he chose Usnach because of its spiritual significance.  What think you on this?’

          ‘Your Grace, like many of my people, I once considered the idea of departed souls waiting to leave for a world beyond death to be the stuff of invention – a crutch for those who cannot face up to the emptiness of dying.’

          ‘That’s a rather bleak outlook, General.’

          ‘Perhaps, Your Grace.  A soldier cannot be distracted by thoughts of life beyond the pyre.  It is why most Helyans are such formidable combatants.  They fight thinking they have everything to lose.’

          ‘But you have a different view now?’

          ‘I have been to Usnach.  Many years ago, my father was murdered by robbers on the road to Terminus.  I did not take his death well.  As a young man, it consumed me.  So obsessed was I by his untimely end that I chartered a boat out to the Empty Isle in the hope that I would see him again.  It cost me a small fortune but I had to see him one last time.’

          ‘And did you, Pylos?  See him?’

          The Helyan’s eyes dropped to the floor as the memories flooded back to him.  Memories of the lonely wilderness of the sea, memories of ice and isolation, memories of an abandoned outpost on a wide flat island.  ‘Yes, Your Grace.  I did.  He was waiting for me.’

          The Chamberlain smiled sympathetically.  After a long silence, he leant forward and clasped his arms together.  ‘So, the question is not what Usnach is, but rather why Remiel Grayson chose it as the site for this final confrontation.’

          ‘I believe he was being practical, and a little bit devious.  He chose as remote a place as could be found in the Myr.  In that regard, he was thinking of the innocents who have already paid more than they should.  Whilst the battle is being fought, we do not need to worry about civilian casualties.  Our forces can focus on one thing alone – the enemy.’

          ‘I assume that was the practical reason.  What is the devious one?’

          ‘Your Grace, as you know, the date for the battle is the summer solstice.  The island of Usnach is so far north that, like Sessymir and Arnaksak, it enjoys much longer days in the summer.  The sun will only set for a few hours at that time of year.  This will give us a distinct advantage over the Ghul.  When the arctic sun shines down on them, our troops will applaud as they are incinerated before our eyes.’

          The Chamberlain stood and wandered over to the table upon which stood the seven-tier Siege board that had been the venue for so many of his battles with Samuel Melkin and – to a lesser extent – Porenutious Windle.  Llyr picked up one of the silver pieces and toyed with it as he considered Pylos’ comments.  ‘General, do you really believe it will be that easy?’

          ‘To be honest… no.’

          ‘As you make your battle plans, I urge you to not to assume too much about our enemy.’

          Pylos nodded humbly.  ‘I understand, Your Grace.  We will make no assumptions.  We are on our knees now.  Caliban has given us the opportunity to stand up again, and I do not intend to waste that.’

          The Chamberlain looked at the shiny piece in his hand.  It was the king.  The last time he held the piece was the week before the Assembly, that fateful meeting when he had put into motion the ruinous plan to assassinate Caliban.  ‘General, can we turn our attention to other matters now?  Porenutious Windle perhaps?’

          Pylos nodded.  His eye twitched ever so slightly at the mention of Windle’s name.  If he was right, Windle had not only twisted Llyr into making the decision to send the squads to kill Caliban, but he had also arranged for Bannick Landen’s death and colluded with the Myrran traitors Maeldune Canna, Lokasenna Hagen and Addison Cole.

          ‘You say my advisor is Caliban’s puppet?’

          ‘We have suspicions, Your Grace.  The mariner Gerriod Blake claimed he saw a fat man in purple subjected to Succellos’ sting.’

          ‘And you believe this to be Porenutious?  Based on that exhaustive description.’

          ‘It would make sense.  Am I right in thinking that it was Porenutious Windle who first recommended to you to avoid all-out war against Caliban?’

          Reluctantly, the Chamberlain gave ground.  ‘Yes – it was Porenutious who first suggested to me the idea of sending the assassination squads.  In Samuel Melkin’s absence, I ran this idea past Maeldune Canna who –’

          ‘Proved to be the greatest traitor of all.’

          ‘But why did the mariner not mention this at the Assembly?’

          ‘He tried to, Your Grace.  But before he could explain himself, Maeldune Canna took control of the Assembly and led us away from what Gerriod was saying.’

          Llyr’s mind raced back to that sunny day when they had all met in the Cloud Chamber.  He remembered Gerriod speaking.  Remembered Maeldune about to strike the Mabbit Tagtug, remembered the rant that followed.  It stuck out because it seemed so out of character.  Maeldune was characteristically subtle and subdued but his interruption of Gerriod’s tale was quite the opposite.  Maeldune had effectively taken the focus from the story.

          ‘So you believe that Windle has been under Caliban’s influence since the time that he and Samuel Melkin were attacked by the Ghul in Scoriath.’

          ‘It seems logical to conclude this, Your Grace.’

          ‘Windle said he escaped the Ghul that night.  Even as he said it, it seemed preposterous but I accepted him without question.’

          ‘It is a mistake we all made I’m afraid.  I have sent some of the Cessair Guard to retrieve him from his quarters, Your Grace.’

          The Chamberlain sighed.  ‘So many lives ruined.’  He unfurled a scroll that Pylos had given him when he first arrived in the Chamberlain’s apartment.

..

Bannick Landen – assassinated in Cessair

Gerriod Blake – missing in action

Gunther Ross – executed in Brigantia

Mulupo – imprisoned in Cessair

Rama Ta – killed in Skyfall Town

Remiel Grayson – imprisoned in the Endless

Sefar Hadith – killed in Khepera

Sir Edgar Worseley – killed in Scoriath

Sumi Kimura – killed in the Endless

Tagtug – killed in the Oshalla Ocean

Tawhawki Fall – missing in action

Trypp Elan – missing in action

Will Stoops – killed in Scoriath

..

‘This is a heart-breaking list,’ he groaned.  ‘We have lost some of the noblest men and women I have ever met.’  The end of the scroll had curled up in his hands.  He pushed it down so that he could see the names at the bottom of the page.  ‘And then we have our traitors…’

..

Addison Cole – missing in action

Lokasenna Hagen – missing in action

Maeldune Canna – killed in Khepera

..

A heavy knock at the door sounded and the Chamberlain admitted his guest.  It was Kip Stoops, the tall, tattooed son of Will Stoops and recently appointed captain of the Cessair Guard.

          ‘What is it Kip?’ the Chamberlain asked, wary of the downcast expression on the young man’s face.

          ‘It’s Porenutious Windle, Your Grace,’ he answered uncomfortably. ‘He’s –’

          ‘Gone?’ the Chamberlain interjected expecting to hear the news of his advisor’s treachery.  It was inevitable.  Why would he stay around?  He had achieved his mission.

          ‘He’s dead, Your Grace.  We found him hanging in his room.’

 

---

 

And so it was with a heavy heart that Chamberlain Tiberius Llyr committed to war all the nations under his authority.  The proclamation went out and messengers were sent to every village and city across the lands.  Ever sensitive to the political climate, Llyr prepared himself for a backlash against what he believed would be the most unpopular decision of his life in office.  He was staggered to witness the opposite reaction.  Civilians lined up outside army barracks and recruiting stations in every major settlement.  Men, women and children of all descriptions put their names down to join the fight to stop the tyranny that had devastated their lives over recent months.

          Weapons were forged and soldiers were trained.  By the time summer came around, there was not a person in the Myr whose mind was not fixed on the small frozen island that lay somewhere in the White Sea at the top of the world.

 

 

Kip Stoops rode up to Pylos and dismounted.  His dreadlocks swept over his head as he bowed, carving tiny grooves in the snow.  ‘General, all the Tuirrenian longbow teams are ready.’

         ‘Well done Kip.  When the breach is revealed, your people will be the first to engage the enemy.  They must take out as many Ghul as possible before they make it out of the breach.’

          ‘They will not miss General.’

          ‘Before you return to your people, I’d like you to take a message to all the captains.’

         ‘Yes sir,’ he responded without pause.  ‘The message?’

          ‘Tell them that their soldiers may stand at ease for now.  The time has come to light the bonfires.  We must ensure that our troops keep warm.’

          ‘Does that include you sir?’ Kip responded.  Pylos was momentarily reminded of Kip’s father.  It was the sort of friendly jibe he would make.

          ‘I cannot fight in armour or furs.  It is not the Helyan way.  And the cold – it keeps me alert.’

          ‘As you wish sir.’

 

 

The fires were lit providing a colourful contrast to the gentle blue light that fell over the island as twilight approached.  Pylos looked out across the thousands of Myrrans who had gathered to fight the great battle.  The Acora and Helyans stood quietly in highly regimented ranks, their weapons at the ready even though there was no sign of the breach through which Caliban’s army would pour.  

          They stood behind innumerable Sessymirians who sat on the frozen ground drinking, wrestling and comparing the size of their swords.  At best, they could be described as a rabble, but they would fight hard.  Their captain moved amongst them slapping them on the back, rousing their spirits even higher so that they thought they were almost invulnerable.  

         Standing calmly in front of the Sessymirians were the Sapphyrro.  It was strange to see such a passive race involved in what would inevitably be a bloody conflict, but they had suffered much and had resolved to put an end to the reign of terror that had reduced much of Skyfall Town to rubble.  The Sapphyrro were armed with nothing more than slingshots and Pylos had great concerns for their safety at the head of the assault, but they had insisted they be placed on the front line where their carapaces would protect them better than any metal armour.

         Behind these four groups were arrayed the longbowmen of Tuirren led by Kip Stoops. 

          They were flanked on the left side by the gleaming knights of Pelinore.  King Pius had emptied his city of every knight he had.  Their long red capes streamed out in the cold wind like proud flags and Pylos could not help but feel inspired by their presence.

          On the Tuirrenians’ right side were hundreds of Susanese and Kompiran warriors, armed to the teeth with sai, throwing stars and bolas.  Many of them stood there with the heart-wrenching funeral of the Emperor’s daughter, Princess Sumi Kimura fixed in their minds.  They remembered the day Lara Brand had appeared in the Imperial Palace in Kumoku with the still body of the nation’s favourite daughter in her arms.  It was the day when every able-bodied person in Susano and Kompira enlisted in the Imperial Army so that they could avenge the heinous crime that had been committed against them.

         Behind the bowmen stood the Arnakki and the Kheperans brandishing all manner of weapons.  Pylos had put these two forces under the formidable leadership of Hafaza Habid, the Ambassador of Khepera.  Well-suited to combat in such freezing temperatures, the Arnakki seemed oblivious to the rapidly-dropping temperature.  The Kheperans on the other hand were struggling so much with the cold, one of them had stood so close to the bonfires that were being lit, his robes had caught fire.

         Pylos placed the Ankarans, the Sedomo, the Tamuans and a surprisingly large contingent of Mabbits behind the Arnakki and Kheperan troops.  This eclectic mix of races had been difficult to position.  The Tamuans and Mabbits were not well practised in the art of war and whilst the Sedomo were extremely combative, they were accustomed to sun-drenched, grassy plains.  Pylos was more than a little apprehensive about how they would cope once the battle began. 

         At the very back of the assembled troops were the metal-clad Tethrans.  Thousands of them.  They were only outnumbered by the Helyans.  The massacre at the Scarlet Rock Theatre was a wound that would not heal.  Rage fuelled their armour-plated bodies.  Originally, Pylos had thought of putting these troops on the front line, but their physical presence did much to instil the inexperienced Ankarans, Tamuans and Mabbits with confidence.

 

 

At the very rear of the Myrran troops, in the ruins of the fort, Tuathan blacksmiths had set up forges to repair the weapons that would inevitably break in the course of the battle.  These forges glowed a brilliant red, lighting up the grizzled faces of the brave smiths who were doing what they could to assist the soldiers.  If the battle was lost, these civilians would meet the same gruesome fate as anyone else upon the field.

         The snow-covered ruins were also occupied by Nessans well-practised in the art of healing.  Some of these were surgeons, others were herbalists and mystics.  They were joined by apothecaries who had left the town of Shysie in Mag Mel to avenge those who had fallen when the Ghul invaded the neighbouring village of Marshmead.

         Behind the ruins, a number of young Tamuans tended to the small flock of peg’ii that had been tethered there.  The peg’ii hovered above the snow contentedly, happy to dine on the dried friggu the Tamuans had brought to feed their prized mounts.

         There were three other groups on the battlefield but they did not represent specific nations.  The Cessair Guard, the Magistrates and the Almoners of Nemetona moved about the assembled troops, ready to provide their skills where they were most needed. 

 

 

There were notable absences.  The great army did not contain any representatives from Cephalonia, Kolpia and Caquix.  Emissaries sent to Cephalonia simply did not return.  Emissaries did return from Hurucan Hill deep in the heart of Kolpia – they found no trace of the Kolpians but plenty of evidence that the Ghul had been there.  The Caquikki had promised to send troops but none had come.

          Pylos knew that the Pryderi would appear in due time, but sadly on the opposing side.  He knew first-hand how powerful they had become.  He had dwelt on them greatly since setting off for Usnach.  For all his military experience, he had no idea as to how he would combat the witches when they entered the fray.

          He turned to face the eastern side of the island where he could see Lara Brand silhouetted against the white ocean behind her.  She had removed herself from the troops, a lonely figure perched on a broken tower amongst the old Tuirrenian ruins.  She had lost her people to Caliban and she was the only member of her squad to survive the mission into the Endless.  The only sign she had anything at all was the bright light that burned in the middle of her chest like blue star.  

 

 

‘You’re shivering!  You’re not scared are you?’  The voice was familiar but strangely hollow.

Pylos wheeled around to see…

          ‘Bannick!’  He reached out to embrace his friend but his hands drifted through the man standing before him.  Bannick's body swirled away like fine, coloured dust only to return to the shape it had originally taken.  

          Pylos grinned.  ‘So you decided to turn up.’

          ‘Just in spirit,’ Bannick replied with a similar grin.

 

 

Lara looked desperately among the spirits who had gathered in the fading light.  Groups of them stood talking to living friends and relatives as if at a dinner party.  Others, keenly aware of the passing time, ran through the ranks of soldiers looking for loved ones to farewell.  

          Lara knew he would be there.  He would wait for her.  She slithered down from the ruins and made her way out across the icy plain.  Her heart raced and just when her hope of seeing him began to fade, he appeared, glowing brighter than any of the other spirits who had come to say their last goodbyes.

          Sir Edgar bowed before her in a sweeping gesture of civility.  ‘My lady, is your baby safe?’

          Tears filled her eyes.  ‘She is.  I couldn’t have saved her without you.  You sacrificed yourself to save us.  To save her.’

          ‘It is comforting to know that it was not in vain.’

          ‘Thank-you.’  She wanted to kiss him.  Wanted to take his hand and hold it to her cheek as he had done on their journey across Scoriath.  But he was dead and soon he would be gone.

          ‘Miss Brand, I am pleased to see you still alive.’

          ‘I had help.  Sumi Kimura.  Tagtug the Mabbit.  Even your brother helped me in his own way.’

          ‘My brother?’

          She reached into her blouse and pulled out a leaf.  It had remained a vibrant green even though months had passed since it had fallen from the boughs of Edgar’s brother’s boughs.

          ‘There were times when I would lose heart.  Feel like giving up.  This small leaf was a reminder of the only thing I had to do to get my little girl back.’

          ‘What was that?’ Edgar asked gently.

          ‘I had to endure.’

          Under his magnificent plumed helm Edgar smiled.  ‘My lady, please come with me.  There are others who wish to say goodbye to you.’

          ‘Others?’ she said hopefully.

          ‘Three others in fact.’

          He led her through the crowds to a place where three remarkably different individuals were waiting for her.  There was Tagtug, Sumi and…

          ‘Mumma?’

 

 

‘How long will you stay?’ Kip asked his father.

          ‘We stay only to say goodbye.  We all feel something tugging in the pit of our stomachs.  There is somewhere else we need to be.  When night comes we will fade away.’

          Kip looked down at his father’s belly.  ‘It doesn’t look like your stomach is fading away!’ he laughed.

          ‘I didn’t come here to be insulted,’ laughed Will Stoops.  ‘I haven’t eaten in months!’  He looked down at the arrows his son was preparing for the battle ahead.  ‘Kip, how many times do I have to say it – keep your arrows wrapped up in cloth.  The evening air will moisten the quills if you leave the arrows uncovered.  I want every –’

          ‘Dad, I was told you died a hero.’

          ‘Is that what you’ve heard?’

          ‘That’s what I’ve heard.’

          ‘I see you have been given command of the longbowmen.’

          Stoops turned to scan the troops before him.  They were all standing reverently, watching the reunion between the most famous Tuirrenian and his well-respected son.  All had taken their caps from their heads as a sign of respect for the departed bowman.  ‘Oh for goodness sake,’ he shouted in response to the show of reverence, ‘put your hats back on your heads.  It’s not a funeral.’

          They smiled awkwardly and did as he instructed.  Kip laughed.  ‘They are good soldiers.  They will serve their country well.’

          ‘As will you, my boy.  Stay alive.’

          A ghostly tear ran down the side of Will Stoops’ chubby face and dropped into space.  Kip struck out a hand, and caught the tear which exploded on his hand in a tiny puff of dust.  When he looked up, his father was gone.

 

 

Jehenna watched her brother and father disappear into the crowds surrounding her.  She was smiling. In a strange way, she was glad they were accompanying one another into the great beyond.  They were far too gregarious to make the trip alone.

          A cold voice sounded behind her.  ‘Jehenna – I…’

          She turned to see the lean, arrogant face of her husband staring back at her.

          ‘I have nothing to say to you.’

          She walked straight through him.

          ‘Jehenna, please.’

          She drew her sword.  ‘I know I can’t kill you now, dear husband, but it will give me some joy to pass my sword through your gullet.’

          ‘I wanted to apologise… for everything.’

          ‘You betrayed your nation, your world and me for ambition.’

          Maeldune’s eyes darted about as he tried to excuse himself.   ‘Jehenna, it was Succellos.  I was under –’

          ‘Don’t!’ she barked and her command was heeded instantly.  ‘You pathetic man.  You would even lie from the other side.’

          ‘I face the void Jehenna.  I need more to take with me than your scorn.’

          Her eyes narrowed.  ‘That’s all I have for you now.’  

          Then her demeanour changed.  Her eyes brightened and a smile broke upon her face.  ‘Besides, there are other men in the world.’  She turned to her left and Maeldune followed her gaze.  He found he was looking at Pylos Castalia engaged in conversation with Bannick Landen and Sefar Hadith.  ‘You can’t mean that barbarian?  He killed me Jehenna!’

          ‘And saved someone else the trouble.’

          ‘No Jehenna.  I forbid it.’

          She shrugged.  ‘You’re dead.  What can you do?’

 

 

Sumi reached out to the spectral figure besides her and drew him close.  She rested her head on his strong arms and giggled.  ‘Lara Brand, this is my husband.’  Her freckled face glowed as Trojanu Sato placed an arm around her shoulders.

 

 

Maeldune spat at the old man who had sidled up beside him.  The man had wrapped a withered hand around Maeldune’s arm and was shuffling him away across the snow.  ‘Who are you?’           Maeldune sneered.  ‘Get away from me.’

          ‘You don’t remember me, Minister?’ the old man asked.  ‘My name is Jolon Bligh.  You killed me in Murdertown.’  On either side of Jolon Bligh, dark robed men appeared carrying chains.  These slithered through the air and wound themselves around Maeldune’s wrists and neck.  Maeldune could do nothing to remove them.

          ‘Where will you take me?’ he asked, his voice tremulous with fear.

          ‘There is a special place reserved for you, Minister.  A place where the truth is laid out for all to see, and justice is administered without fear or favour.’

          Maeldune’s screams faded with the light and then the living were all alone.

 

 

Pylos and Jehenna took to their mounts and rode across the icy plains to give last minute instructions to the troops on the front line.  The clear arctic skies above had darkened to reveal brilliant stars that many of the Myrrans had never seen before.

          ‘They’ll be here soon,’ Pylos said sombrely.  ‘They’ll want to use every moment they have.’

          Jehenna’s mind was still on the departed.  ‘We lost too many good people.  Bannick, Rama, Kali, Tawhawki…’  Her voice trailed off.

          ‘What is it?’ Pylos asked.

          ‘I had expected to see Tawhawki’s spirit here today but he did not come.’

          ‘I thought Gunther Ross would be here,’ Pylos said.  ‘Swigging on some ghostly wine, making tasteless remarks about some poor woman who floated by.’

          ‘We could use both of them today.  I thought the Caquikki would show.  This is their fight too.’

          ‘We can win this battle without them,’ Pylos said trying to sound confident.  

          Jehenna pulled her snorse to a halt.  She turned to the Helyan and said, ‘You really think we can win this battle?’

          Pylos thought carefully before answering.  ‘I want to tell you our victory is at hand.  I want to tell you that all these people will survive.  But the simple fact is that is that the best we can hope for is a valiant end.’

          She stared at him without saying anything.  He looked away, uncomfortable in her gaze but she continued to stare.  After years of marriage to a man who personified deceit, Pylos’ honest answer had taken her by surprise.  It was a good answer.  A roomful of poets could not have written a better answer.

 

 

Pedaeus Rhodes came up the slope with a hunk of meat.  ‘Here Pylos, eat.’

          ‘Not before a battle, Pedaeus.’

          ‘Why not – we have time.  And it’s roast barga.  You know you love roast barga.’

          ‘Pedaeus, I would not be able to keep it down.’

          ‘You’re not scared are you, Pylos?’

          ‘I am exactly as I am before every fight Pedaeus – terrified.’

          ‘I don’t believe it.’

          ‘It’s not something I share with a lot of people.’

          ‘But, you always seem so –’

          ‘Self-assured.  A man in my position must present such an appearance, but deep down, I am more nervous than most.  So much for the great hero Pylos Castalia.’

          ‘No.  If anything, it makes you a greater hero.  You experience fear, but conquer it.  You are the oriflamme of the Myr.  All nations will follow where you lead.’

          ‘They would have followed Bannick,’ he said sadly.  

          ‘Did you see him?  Just now?  Was he waiting for you?’

          Pylos’ mouth curled up in a curious grin.  ‘Yes Pedaeus.  I did see him.’

          Pedaeus tore a strip of steaming barga from the bone he was holding.  The smell of the cooked meat hung deliciously in the air, and despite his nerves, Pylos felt himself growing hungry.  

          ‘What did he say?’ Pedaeus asked as he chewed avariciously upon the meat.

 

---

 

‘She’s available now,’ Bannick said casting a suggestive glance at Jehenna Canna.

          ‘Here we are about to go into the greatest battle of all time and you’re thinking about that!’

          ‘I’m not going into battle,’ Bannick retorted.

          ‘I killed her husband, Bannick.  That makes things a little difficult.’

          Bannick chuckled to himself.  ‘Pylos, there are times I think you’re afraid of women!  I really do.’

          Pylos glared at his friend’s spirit.  ‘Don’t you have somewhere to go?’

 

---

 

‘He just wished me well for the battle ahead.’

          Pedaeus slapped Pylos on the back and gave a hearty laugh.  ‘You must think me stupid, Pylos!  Bannick would never say that.’  Pedaeus noticed that Pylos was uneasy by his comment.  His face had reddened.  ‘He said something about Jehenna Canna, didn’t he?’

          Both men looked up at her moving among the troops with more confidence than anyone either man knew.   She was marching up and down the Sessymirian lines giving orders and advice.  Incredibly, as boorish as the Sessymirians were, not a single man questioned her – they just listened attentively to all she had to say.  Even the drunk ones.

          ‘If I fall today, they will follow her,’ Pylos said.  ‘They all will.’

          ‘You won’t fall.’

          Pylos looked across the darkening island and frowned.  ‘Where are they Pedaeus?  It’s dark enough for them now.  They should have appeared by now.’

          ‘You don’t think this is a ruse do you?  What if Caliban attacks our homelands?  We have left them undefended.’

          Pylos nodded.  ‘I have worried about that continually.  The Ghaddar agreed to watch over all the breaches they could, but they are few and the Ghul are legion.  However, I do not believe Caliban would avoid a battle he does not believe he can lose.  There is pride at stake here.  And sibling rivalry.  I doubt Caliban could walk away from this fight.’

 

 

Pylos’ faith in this point of view was sorely tested as the night drew on.  The stars wheeled by overhead and the moons rose and fell.  Despite his conviction that the Ghul would appear, the brief night passed without incident.  The Myrran troops stood at the ready, waiting for some sign of the Ghul.  But none came and though the night was only a few hours long, by the end of it, there were many soldiers whose nerves were frayed.

          ‘The sun’s about to rise,’ Pedaeus said.  ‘There’s not a cloud in the sky.  It’s going to be a bright day.’

          Suddenly a subterranean rumbling was heard across the land.  Snow shifted upon itself like flour being sifted.  Pebbles of ice jumped crazily as the rumbling intensified.  Over by the ruins, the peg’ii whinnied nervously, disturbed by the shaking ground.

          ‘They’re coming,’ Pylos said gravely.

 

 

He instructed the army to move back.  The rumbling was at its most vocal in the middle of the island.  The Myrrans edged back as they waited for the breach to appear.

         Whether it was by design or by chance, the breach appeared the moment the sun rose over the flat horizon of the sea.  It’s light cascaded across the waters at the same moment the snow and ice in the centre of Usnach fell away to reveal a massive rift five leagues long.  It ran from the northern tip of the island to the southern coastline, effectively dividing the land in two.  Shelves of ice 500 yards long slid into the crevasse, sending up a plume of dirt and snow that hung in the still morning air.

         After a time, the rumbling ceased and the land eventually came to rest.

          The breach was dark.  No phosphorescent glow bled out of it, just darkness.  Nothing moved.  Nothing could be heard.

          ‘I don’t understand,’ Pedaeus exclaimed.  ‘Why now?’

          ‘The Pryderi,’ said a soft voice behind him.  Lara Brand had slithered through the armies to see what she could.  The small white hillock Pylos and Pedaeus stood upon offered the best view of the breach so she decided to join them.

          ‘What about them?’ asked Pedaeus.  ‘Did they open the breach?’

          ‘I imagine so,’ Lara replied.  ‘But they also mean to do much more.  With their help, the Ghul could attack at any time.’

          ‘But what of the sun?’ Pylos asked.

          ‘Oh dear gods, Pylos!' Lara gasped.  'The Pryderi will block it out.’ 

          Pedaeus’ eyes widened.  ‘They can do that?’

          ‘Months ago, when Sumi, Tagtug and I were fleeing Providence, a coven of witches supporting the Ghul tried to stop us by covering the sky with thick clouds.  They almost succeeded.’

          Pedaeus’ expression remained stunned.  ‘Are you saying they could cover the whole island?’

          ‘I really don’t know Ambassador.  It would take a lot of witches to sustain such a spell.’

          ‘Why would they wait until now?’ Pedaeus said.  ‘Wouldn’t it have been easier to attack us last night?’

          Pylos was nodding to himself.  He understood.  ‘It was a good tactic – to wait until daylight.  Short as the night was, it has exhausted our troops.  The waiting before a battle is the hardest part.’

 

 

Suddenly there was movement in the breach.  A dense cloud of shatterbugs at least 200 hundred yards thick and two leagues long rose out of the breach, like a luminous spirit rising from the dead.  When they had reached the cold open air, the bugs flew off in all directions, but none left the island.

          Pylos turned to Lara.  ‘Caliban doesn’t want Remiel to miss a thing.’

          Pedaeus face wrinkled up as confusion settled upon it again.  ‘What does that mean Pylos?’

          ‘It’s a long story Pedaeus,’ Pylos said dryly.  ‘I’ll save it for another day.’

          Pedaeus shook his head.  ‘I’m beginning to think there won’t be another day.’

 

 

An hour passed.  The breach remained silent.  Only the fluttering of shatterbug wings could be heard.  As beautiful as they were, any shatterbug that strayed too close to Pylos, Lara or Jehenna was quickly introduced to an early demise.

          A Scorian scout rode up on a chestnut-coloured snorse.  ‘Excuse me General but we’ve spotted some movement in the breach.  Northern end.’

 

 

‘They’re Pryderi alright,’ Jehenna said.  She sat astride her snorse peering into the breach flanked by Pedaeus, Pylos and Lara.  In its dim light, they could make out a long line of Moraens slithering up a thin path on the far side of the breach.

         ‘We need to shoot them down now!’ Pedaeus said with earnest.  ‘We need to stop them before they are a threat.’

         ‘I’m not sure I can do that,’ said Pylos. 

         ‘You have no choice!’ Pedaeus argued.

         ‘Actually you do,’ said Lara.  ‘You can choose not to shoot.  You would be wasting arrows anyway.  They have put up a protective spell around their bodies.  Your arrows would just bounce off and fall into the pit.’

          Pylos turned to the scout who had brought them to the northern end of the breach.  ‘Alert all companies.  Sound the horns.  We are about to be attacked.’

          The scout frowned.  ‘With all due respect General, the sun is–’

          The look he received from Pylos warned him against finishing his sentence.  ‘Tell all the companies to light torches.  Stoke the bonfires.  It’s about to get dark.’

 

 

The scout rode off leaving the four of them looking at the faint line of witches slowly making their way up out of the Endless.  

          ‘Surely it takes more than a few weather witches to cover this island with clouds,’ Pedaeus said hopefully. ‘How many witches would they need?  To darken these skies?’

          ‘It took about ten of them to cover the bay at Providence for a few minutes,’ Lara answered.  ‘I’d say it would take at least a hundred or more to keep this island in darkness.’

          ‘What about a thousand?’ Jehenna said ominously.

          ‘What?’

          She pointed down into the breach.  More lines of Pryderi appeared.  Jehenna wasn’t joking.  There was at least a thousand of them.

          ‘That would mean that Caliban has emptied Morae,’ Lara gasped.  ‘He has ensnared every witch alive.’

 

 

Once they had all had emerged they slowly made their way to the western end of the island, about a league away from the breach.  Clearly, Caliban did not intend for them to fight.  That role would fall to others.  The Pryderi had been given only one objective – to cover up the sun.  They sat in coiled heaps facing the island and began their incantation, a low, indecipherable hum.  In the skies above, a dull rumbling echoed the witches’ chant.

 

 

‘The soldiers are making their best efforts to ready themselves, but this is an unfortunate turn of events,’ Sela observed.  ‘Some of the troops had started entertaining the idea the Ghul were too scared to show.’

         ‘They were foolish, Sela,’ Pylos sighed.  ‘This is no set back.  After all we came here to fight.  You make sure they know that.’

         ‘Yes sir,’ Sela answered as she leaned over the long neck of the peg’ii she was riding.  There was a time when she would have scolded Pylos for speaking to her in such a way.  But that was a different time.  ‘Is there anything more to be done?’

          ‘Yes.  I want you to fly from company to company.  Tell the captains to move their troops forward.  I want our front line to be no more than fifty yards from the breach.  When the Ghul finally appear, I want to be within striking distance.’

 

 

The skies were now thick with black thunderclouds, illuminated sporadically by the flash of unnatural lightning.  On the Myrran side of the breach, thousands of torches were lit but it was not enough to dispel the gloom.  It was dark enough for the Ghul to emerge.

          And emerge they did.

 

 

At the front of the Myrran armies, the Sapphyrro stood on the lip of the breach watching the black shapes making their way over the rock and ice below.  Though it was early morning, the Ghul did not burn.  The clouds above gave them more than enough shelter from the pain of daylight.

The Sapphyrro all raised their slingshots.  None hesitated, and as sacred as life was to them, none seemed to have any qualms about taking aim at the Ghul.  In fact, it was the sanctity of life that explained why the people of the Skyfall had taken their place so assuredly in the vanguard of the Myrran alliance.  If they faltered, none would survive the marauding evil that was about to consume the world.

          The slingshots were released and almost every Ghul within range was felled.  And they stayed dead.  The bodily eruptions that signified the fiery demise of the Ghul lit up the breach like a birthday cake.

          Above them, each Sapphyrran loaded another lump of shatterstone into his slingshot and fired.

 

 

The air was filled with the sound of Tuirrenian and Acoran bows being released, followed swiftly by the sharp, soft sound of arrows slicing the air.  No-one could hear the gentle thud of the shatterstone shafts hitting the leathery hides of the Ghul, but the conflagration that grew in the breach indicated the archers had hit their targets.  Before a single Ghul had left the breach, at least a thousand had been killed.

 

 

Lieutenant Lucetious looked up at the carnage above him.  The western wall of the breach was ablaze with dying Ghul, but still he pushed his troops on.  Above the falling, flaming bodies, he could see the cloudy skies beyond and this gave him strength.  

          ‘Clearly Lucetious, you failed in reclaiming all the shatterstone from the Myrrans,’ Arinna Brine said coldly.  ‘You are vulnerable.’

          Lucetious turned to face the witch.  He did not like the fact she was free to roam amongst them, but she had Caliban’s favour so he accepted her presence without a word of complaint.  ‘Can you provide us with protection witch?’

          The breach must be at least five leagues long,’ Arinna scoffed.  ‘Even I do not have that power.  I can protect us here.  That is all.’

          ‘It does not matter. We are innumerable.  They will run out of things to throw at us long before we run out of soldiers.’  He turned to the hordes behind him and raised his sword of bone.  ‘Continue into the breach!  A feast awaits!  Onward and upward, my Ghul!’

          The pallid warriors marched on.  The air inside the breach became acrid with the brimstone stench of Ghul dying but they did not stop coming.  

 

 

Pedaeus slapped a hand on Pylos’ back.  ‘I think we have surprised our enemy.  Pylos, it was a stroke of genius to tear all the shatterstone from Cessair Tower.’

          ‘It was difficult to convince the Chamberlain to agree to the plan.  That tower has stood as a symbol of Myrran unity for over a thousand years.  It took fifty years to build and only five days to strip it bare.’

          ‘A symbol is worth nothing on its own Pylos.  Every person who fights here today does so with the knowledge that he or she faces a foe that can be killed.  The tower has provided us with the weaponry we require to win this day.’

          ‘We will need more than weapons, I fear.’

          ‘But it’s a start.’  Pedaeus looked down at the shatterstone sword in his hand.  ‘There’s one thing that confuses me.  How did you do this without Caliban knowing.  If what you told me about the shatterbugs is correct…’

          ‘It was something Remiel Grayson said when we were in Khepera.  He told us that the churchwrens that nested in Garlot Abbey ate the shatterbugs.  We spent months gathering every wren across the Myr and brought them to Cessair.  They hid what we were doing from Caliban.’

A shatterbug fluttered down and landed on the icy ground between them.  Pedaeus lifted his boot to squash the bug but Pylos stopped him.  ‘There’s no need to kill it.  Let Caliban watch.  I want him to see everything.’

 

 

Out of the darkness of the breach came a terrifying volley in response to the Myrrans' opening assault.  In the depths of the breach, huge catapults had been pulled in by colossal beasts of burden.  Unseen by the Sapphyrro above, these great catapults had been winched, loaded and released.  A dull thud was the only precursor to the butchery that followed.  

          The object that landed amidst the Sessymirians was spherical in shape and made of iron.  It was the size of a small house.  Hundreds of needleback spines adorned the object, sticking out of it through circular holes across its surface.  The slow arc of its flight had made it easy for the Sessymirians to predict where the missile was going to land, and no warrior was within twenty feet of the giant, spiked ball when it slammed down upon the frozen ground.  

          However it was not until a full second had passed after the landing of the unfamiliar object that its destructive nature was realised.

          The iron balls were bombs and very few Myrrans could have understood or imagined the science of their making.  In the darkness of the Endless, Caliban had learnt many things, and this new technology was one of them.  The balls were entirely mechanical.  Upon landing, a spring was released within, which in turn unleashed all the needleback spines.  They were released with such force that an entire row of soldiers were cut down by a single spike.  Within moments of the first bomb landing, over one hundred Myrrans had been cut down in the most gruesome fashion.

 

 

A succession of these iron balls rained down upon Pylos’ troops and he could not think of a single way to stop them.  Lara Brand did what she could to shield the soldiers with her magick but as more and more balls were cast out of the breach, it was obvious to all that she could not stop the terrible casualties from mounting.

          Pylos sounded a horn and the Myrran forces dropped back as far as they could.  The terrible barrage continued to cull their numbers for some time but eventually it stopped.

Pylos rode forward and lamented what he was seeing.  On the western side of the breach he could see thousands of Ghul pouring onto the land.  It was a flood and he could do nothing to stop it.  The Ghul had set up a series of long vine bridges that spanned the breach.  There were hundreds of them.

          Pylos gave the signal to return to the breach.  His armies pushed forward and prepared for the worst.

          Things got worse.  The Cabal appeared.  

 

 

The first to rise was a monster the Myrrans had never seen before.  It looked more comical than frightening but that did not diminish Pylos’ concerns.  It had a long, fat, furry body covered in blue and purple stripes.  The creature was bereft of legs but it was not a serpent.  Hundreds of tiny wings lined its body and these flapped furiously, struggling to keep the awkward creature airborne.  Its face consisted of a pair of tiny yellow eyes and a broad, smiling mouth.  Underneath this mouth hung a massive gullet that wobbled as if it were a skin of wine.

         As it rose over the Sessymirian troops near the front of the Myrran ranks, the call went out to fire at the creature.  A cloud of Acoran arrows filled the sky and the odd creature was struck a hundred times over.  Many of the arrows perforated the gullet hanging from its head and this had a most unexpected result.  Hundreds of spouts of green liquid shot out of the holes the arrows had made and this showered the Sessymirians beneath.  The noxious smell of the liquid hit them hard and many gagged as the potent odour swept over them.

          Captain Gudrun pushed through the men on the front line until he found Pylos.  ‘General, it’s the blinding agent – I recognise the smell,’ he shouted.

          ‘Then it is time to draw the Ghul into our trap.  Are your soldiers are up to it?’

Pylos got the answer to his question immediately.  The Sessymirians were wandering about like blind men.  They fell over, they clutched their eyes.  Some even bumped into one another and fell down giggling, despite the fact they were in the middle of a battlefield.  Pylos cringed to see such dreadful acting.  The Sessymirians moaned unconvincingly or shouted out painfully obvious lines such as, ‘My eyes, my eyes,’ and ‘I can’t see a thing.’  Pylos was convinced that the Ghul would not fall for such an obvious ruse, but he was wrong.

          The Ghul had no reason to doubt that the Sessymirians had been blinded.  Lucetious put out the command to engage the vulnerable Sessymirians in hand to hand combat.  Some Ghul climbed onto winged skitteriks that darted about the breach in erratic movements.  Others just raced forward across the foot bridges, impelled by the carnal joy such an easy fight would provide.  They could see how harmless their opponents had become.  The sight of the stumbling Sessymirians was overwhelmingly seductive to the opportunistic Ghul – they had no fear of shatterstone when wielded by hapless, blind men.  They rushed across the vine bridges, disposing of the tactics and discipline that Lucetious and Caliban had instilled in them.  Their bloodlust had become uncontainable.

 

 

The Sapphyrro had moved aside to give the Ghul full access to the Sessymirians.  Gudrun pulled his men back, so a large hole appeared at the front of the Sessymirian ranks.  This empty space quickly filled as more and more Ghul approached.  In the desire to slaughter the Sessymirians whilst they were vulnerable, the Ghul who had crossed the breach had allowed themselves to be flanked on three sides.

          The Sessymirians continued to stumble about dramatically.  The Ghul kept coming.

          But the Sessymirians were far from helpless.  Apart from having to stomach the offensive smell of the apothecaries’ blinding agent, the Sessymirians were in fine condition.  As the Ghul drew their blades, Gudrun’s troops abandoned the pretence of blindness and focused their eyes upon the merciless enemy they had trapped.  They swung their broadswords and the Ghul were – once again – consumed by the fires that shatterstone sparked across their colourless skin.  Sessymirian pikemen quickly lifted their lances and drove them into the bellies of the skitteriks that flew overhead.  Their riders fell to the ground where the Sessymirians made short work of them.  The Ghul tried to retreat but they found it hard to keep their footing on the bloodstained ice whilst the Sessymirians who spent every day with frozen ground underfoot were balletic by comparison.

It was a perfectly executed plan and it had brought about the deaths of over one hundred Ghul.  The blaze of burning bodies that arose as the result was met with great excitement amongst the Myrran troops.  For the first time in recorded history, the presence of the Sessymirians on the battlefield was looked upon favourably by other Myrrans.

          Meanwhile the creature that had leaked the vile liquid over the troops limped out over the seas surrounding the island and was never seen again.

 

 

There was one Sessymirian on the field who was not shouting triumphantly.  From the other side of the breach, Lokasenna Hagen looked upon the rout with pure rage.  ‘They knew!’ she screamed.  She turned to Arinna who had also viewed the slaughter.  ‘They weren’t blind at all.  Somehow they anticipated the move.  They tricked us!’

          Arinna raised an eyebrow, surprised that Lokasenna felt so betrayed.  Her eyes roamed over the Sessymirian’s blackened face, intrigued by the way her shining blue eyes contrasted with her burnt skin.  Her eyes were the only thing about her that connected her with her race.  She no longer had the flaxen hair common to Sessymirians nor did she have their creamy complexion.  In a way, she resembled the Ghul than she did her own people.  

          When Lara Brand had set fire to the Hollow Hills, burning Lokasenna to an inch of her life, she had changed the Sessymirian irrevocably.  She no longer fought for her father.  She did not even fight for herself.  Lokasenna was on Usnach for one reason alone – she hated life and hated it as much as any Ghul.

          Arinna shook her head dismissively at Lokasenna.  ‘Of course they knew.  They’re not stupid.’

          Lokasenna’s face twisted as much as her shell of burnt skin would allow.  ‘Did you know of their plans, witch?  I hear you can read minds.’

          Arinna tapped her head and scowled.  ‘With so many here in such a heightened emotional state all I can hear is noise.’

 

 

A number of Sessymirians tried to cut down the bridges but quickly discovered that even their sharpest swords could not cut through the vines – Arinna had cast a protective spell over them so they were as impenetrable as steel.

          The use of shatterstone weapons had taken the Ghul by surprise and they did not try to cross the bridges again.  They retreated to the western end of the island, out of range of the shatterstone arrows the Tuirrenian longbowmen had been firing without pause.

          Underneath the bridges, more Ghul continued to spew from the Endless.

          ‘It is as I said it would be,’ Lucetious said to Arinna.  ‘They’re running out of shatterstone.  The Sapphyrro no longer fire upon us.’

          He was right.  The Sapphyrro had stopped their bombardment and had withdrawn from the edge of breach.

          ‘It will not be long before the archers run out of arrows as well.  They cannot maintain this assault forever.’

          ‘Will you continue to hide at the far end of the island all day Lucetious?’ Arinna said reproachfully.  She pointed to where the Ghul had gathered around the Pryderi on the western edge of Usnach.  ‘Their presence is distracting my coven, and you don’t want that to happen, do you?’

          ‘They will rejoin the fight in due course.  There is no hurry.  If there is one thing I have learnt from Lord Caliban, it’s the importance of patience.’

          ‘You are giving the Myrrans a chance to rest whilst the Pryderi exhaust themselves covering the island in darkness.  You should cross the bridges and attack.’

          Lucetious shook his head.  ‘If we cross the bridges we will be picked off by archers.  But do not worry, witch.  There is always another way.’

 

 

The next creature that appeared seemed to pose no threat at all.  Its wet and scaly pink body was thin and sickly looking.  Long tentacles ending in broad, flat cups dangled at the creature’s side.  These tentacles didn’t seem to be of any use to the creature.  It did not use them to pull its limp body along nor did it use them to steady itself despite the difficulty it was having scaling the steep western side of the breach.

          Though the beast was at least 100 foot long, it was only a few yards across.  It appeared to have very little strength for it fell back into the breach twice as it tried to slither its way up to the icy surface of the island.

          After the second failed attempt to scale the walls of the breach, the creature disappeared for some time before emerging once more, this time attached to countless vines that were hauled across the ice by hundreds of Ghul.

          Pylos watched this activity with a sense of foreboding.  On his left Kip Stoops sat on a white snorse.  On his right a much older man wearing white robes and a garland of ivy around his head had his face buried in a book.

          ‘Kip, I want your people to concentrate on the vines.  The Ghul are going to a lot of trouble to get that thing out of the Endless.  It must be important to them.’

          ‘Really General?  It looks a bit sick to me.’

          ‘If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not find out what use they have for it.’

          ‘We are running out of arrows sir.’

          ‘I know.  It was inevitable.  Soon it will be time for others to influence the day.  No-one ever won a battle with archers alone.’

          Kip Stoops sped off on his snorse and within a minute the Tuirrenian longbowmen were training their arrows upon the ropes lashed to the creature.

          ‘General, its name is Nausasis,’ said the man at Pylos’ side.  It was Senator Leippa, the man who had opposed Pylos so many times in the past.  Now he was doing everything he could to support him.  Leippa held up the ancient book he had been madly flicking through when the creature had first appeared.

         ‘I don’t care about its name, Senator – just how to kill it.  Tell me what it does.’

         ‘The book doesn’t really say!’

         ‘I think we’re about to find out, Pylos,’ said Jehenna pointing out to a stretch of ice on the far side of the breach.

 

 

The Ghul had successfully managed to haul Nausasis out of the breach.  Although its pale pink skin was covered in arrows as were the thick green vines the Ghul had wrapped around the creature, the longbowmen were not able to stop it from being brought up onto the ice.

          Nausasis sat in a coiled heap with its head raised slightly.  Its sad white eyes looked out over the confusing scene before it.  The Ghul had laid out its long tentacles in a rough circle around its coiled centre.  There were twelve tentacles in all.  Each one lay flaccidly on the frozen ground.

          The Ghul surrounding Nausasis placed themselves down in the cups – twelve Ghul, one to a limb.  In a perverse way, it looked as if they were each taking a seat in a wagon.  

          Another Ghul walked to the hub of the creature and kicked at the coils lying lethargically upon the ice.  Although Pylos couldn’t hear anything from that distance, he could see that this particular Ghul was shouting at Nausasis.  Suddenly, it rose up, twisting its body around and around.  The cups at the end of its limbs stayed where they were despite the increasing tension upon each limb.  The Ghul sitting in the cups unsheathed their swords even though there were no enemies near them.

          Suddenly the tension pulling at the cups by the creature’s twisting body was too great and they twirled up into the air.  As they spun around in a massive circle, the Ghul soldiers let go of the cups and allowed themselves to be hurtled out over the breach and into the midst of the Myrran troops.

          Nausasis had thrown them far.  They landed in the midst of the Sedomo who struggled to understand what was going on.  It was not until twenty Sedomo lay dead that they turned their spears upon the incoming Ghul.

 

 

Another beast sprung out of the breach.  It was green and it was massive.  In many ways, it resembled a common friggu having the same webbed feet, bulbous eyes and pulsating air sacs on the size of its head.  But it was thousands of times bigger.  When its body landed on the ice, it crushed an entire regiment of Pelinese knights, proud men who never got the chance to swing their swords in battle.  

          The creature’s air sacs trembled and then exploded releasing a host of Ghul among the surviving knights.

 

 

The Pelinese knights were not the only ones to be taken by surprise.  Two leagues to the north, the Kompiran and Susanese forces had sustained heavy casualties.  Their eyes had been focused westwards, upon the breach.  They were caught unawares when the ice behind them caved in and released a gargantuan beast with hundreds of claws hanging from its dark red body.  It scuttled over the stunned warriors, snapping its claws as it went, claws large enough to slice a person in half.  There was little more than a bloody river left of its victims when it moved deeper into the throng.

          Behind the creature, hundreds of Ghul exited the rift the creature had made in the ice.  They ran out into the Myrran troops firing crossbows as they went, cutting down the opposition before they had a chance to strike at them with a shatterstone blade.  The battle was turning.

 

 

Whilst all this was taking place, the Ghul had dragged three colossal catapults up out of the breach.  The vast iron buckets at the rear of each of these massive weapons were quickly loaded and sent hurtling forward before the Myrrans had any idea as to what the Ghul were sending across the breach.

         Each projectile was different, but they had one thing in common.  They were Cabal.

 

 

The catapult on the left sent a spherical, yellow creature hurtling into the ranks of the Mabbits on the southern edge of the Myrran troops.  Although they were caught by surprise, their incredible reflexes saved them from being pounded into the ice.  At first, the yellow ball did nothing other than roll to a stop in the middle of hundreds of curious and frightened Mabbits.  It shook slightly and then a score of mouths appeared on its oily yellow skin.  These widened to form smiling lips which slowly parted to reveal a long green tongue darting about inside each mouth.  Suddenly, the tongues shot out and twenty Mabbits found themselves ripped off their feet and into the smiling orifices.  It was a death as quick as it was obscene.

         The Mabbits all fled, except for one, who stood bravely, waiting to be taken by the creature.  In his hand he held a large purple fruit.

          A pair of lips parted and a tongue darted out and lashed around the Mabbit’s neck.  He disappeared into one of the beast’s broad mouths.

          Moments later, the boomberry he held exploded and the strange yellow creature was little more than a smear mark upon the ice.

 

 

The second catapult had deposited its payload among the Tethrans.  It was a tall brute of a creature with massive claws that shone like steel.  This bipedal beast was a thing of pure fury.  It raked its claws over any soldier within reach and the effects were devastating.  The claws sliced through flesh and bones as if they were sand.  The metal plates covering the Tethran’s skin posed no difficulty for this monster.  Within seconds of the creature landing at least ten Tethrans had lost their lives.  Many more had lost their limbs.

 

 

The beast that had landed amongst the Arnakki was much smaller than the other two but just as deadly.  It was no taller than a man, covered in soft grey fur and had no distinct shape.  But it did have a distinct smell.  A green mist hung around the creature’s body like a cloak.  It swirled and it waved but it didn’t dissipate.  It seemed to have a life of its own.

          One of the Arnakki thrust his sword forward and the green mist wrapped around the blade and slithered up the man’s arm.  By the time it reached his face, he was dead.

          Another Arnakki soldier lashed out with a heavy mace, crashing it down upon the creature’s head.  Against the mist rose up and took hold of the mace and before the man could release it, he lay dead next to his comrade.

          The creature shuffled forward into the thickest part of the crowd of Arnakki.  The mist rose out to anyone within a few feet of its body.  Moments later another seven Arnakki soldiers lay dead.

          ‘How can we fight something we can’t hit?’ screamed one of the surviving soldiers who was backing away from the creature’s advance.

          ‘That’s easy,’ said Lara Brand’s soft voice.  ‘You throw it away.’

          She stuck out a hand and lifted the creature high above the soldiers.  It floated there above their heads like a large dust mote before Lara gave a flick of her hands and sent it flying out to sea.

 

 

More and more Cabal were released upon the Myrrans.  Wherever he looked Pylos could see many of his troops being whittled away.  The Myrrans were besieged on all sides and try as he might, he could not think of tactics to combat the diverse and unpredictable assault Caliban’s forces had mounted.

         Taking advantage of the chaos the Cabal had created, the Ghul had flooded across the bridges spanning the breach.  Pylos spent much of his time galloping up and down the line, trying to keep order and focus.  He had sent his troops to line the breach and to stop the march of the Ghul and they fought with the courage and determination for which Helyans were famous, but the sheer number of Ghul was overwhelming, and his men were quickly becoming exhausted by the relentless onslaught.

 

 

The Sessymirians were also distinguishing themselves.  What they lacked in finesse they made up for with obstinacy and brute strength.  But even that proved to be insufficient when they were met with Aventail.

         Leippa had warned Pylos of this one.  Among the ranks of the Cabal it was considered to be one of the most dangerous.  It was a hooved beast with six legs and a long mane of silver.  Its long neck resembled that of a snorse, but its head was more like a fish.  Its back was covered in strange lumps that resembled barnacles on a ship.

          When it first appeared up on the ice, it did not harm anyone so the Helyans and Sessymirians ignored it, choosing to focus on the ever-growing numbers of Ghul rather than a beast that seemingly posed no threat.

          However, when Pylos saw the beast, he shouted to all the men near it to focus their aggression upon it.  They soon learnt why.  As Aventail had galloped about, tiny colloid lumps fell from its body.  These had rolled out from under the shells on its back and dropped to the ice, ignored by all except those who had the misfortune to stand on one.

          The lumps were actually eggs and from these eggs hatched the most ferocious monsters Pylos had ever seen.  Everything Leippa had told him about Aventail was quickly shown to be true.

The slug-like creatures that exploded from the eggs were little more than a collection of savage teeth in a slimy, limacine body.  These teeth sliced into the ankles of the soldiers and the bite was so ferocious that it severed the foot from the leg.  Screams of pure agony cut through the air as soldier after soldier fell to the ground, the battle forgotten as they clutched at the stumps of their legs only to have the slug attach itself to their necks.

          ‘We have to stop that thing spawning these devils.’

          A group of Sessymirians to his left sheathed their swords and took long drinks from flasks that had been hanging from their waists.  In the middle of them was Captain Gudrun.

          ‘This is no time for drinking Captain,’ Pylos snapped, amazed at the lack of discipline he had just seen.

          Gudrun gazed back in Pylos’ direction but his eyes weren’t focused upon him.  They were focused upon Aventail.  The beast was standing amidst a throng of Ghul standing near the breach.  Gudrun’s pupils had dilated and the veins in his neck were pulsating.  Froth had collected on his bottom lip.  All the soldiers around him were the same.  They resembled wild animals.  In a berserker rage they raced off chasing after Aventail with no thought given to their own safety.  At least a hundred Ghul stood between them and the beast they sought to slay.  

          There was nothing intelligent or strategic in the Sessymirian attack and many fell before they had covered twenty yards.  But most ignored the wounds they received and pushed on.  A number of Sessymirians even had their feet sheared off by the savage slugs Aventail had dropped, but this wasn’t enough to stop them.  Ghul heads flew through the air before exploding in fire.  Gudrun and his men did not stop until they had reached Aventail and killed it.  But killing it wasn’t enough.  They dropped their swords and tore the flesh from its bones.  Their sheer brutality was almost enough to unsettle the Ghul.

          Pylos knew what he had just witnessed.  Although he was contemptuous of the Sessymirians’ use of an apothecary’s potion to give them an advantage on the battlefield, he was in awe of their terrifying presence.  The Sessymirians had literally torn apart one of the worst Cabal in existence.  This done they set about hunting down all the slugs.  Some of them even picked up the gnashing creatures and strangled them with their bare hands.

          Pylos looked around him.  Despite the efforts of the Sessymirians, things were still desperate.  Myrran troops were being pared down by the endless procession of Ghul troops spilling out onto Usnach.  Fortunately, the Cabal had proven itself to be a finite entity.  It seemed that the last of these monsters had dragged itself out of the depths of the Endless.  This was small consolation to the fact that a dozen were still rampaging across the frozen waste, making their presence known in the bloodiest ways possible.

          On a small hummock in the centre of the field, Pylos sat on his mount Lampetia and wracked his brains for a way to shift the battle in his favour.  At the very far end of the island, across the breach, he could make out the Pryderi.  He had thought to focus all his efforts upon them, but huddled in a cocoon of magick he could not hope to penetrate, they were untouchable.

          His feelings towards them were conflicted.  He was one of the few who had seen what Caliban was prepared to do to their offspring.  He had seen how they had been manipulated.  And yet, despite his sympathy, he was appalled by the Pryderi’s decision to support the monster who held their children hostage.  The coven could end the battle in an instant, dispelling the thick cover of clouds that protected the Ghul from the sun.  But that was never going to happen.  They had gone too far down a dark road on which they could not turn around.

          Pylos looked to his right where he could see Lara and Jehenna fighting back to back where the fighting was thickest.  Lara’s tawny brown hair streamed out in the cold air as she cast spell after spell with consummate ease.

          Despite the bleakness of their situation, Pylos found a grain of happiness.  It was the sort of happiness only a soldier would understand. His ranks were being decimated but they kept on fighting.  And it wasn’t just the Helyans, the Sessymirians the Acora and the Arnakki, races with a rich history of warfare.  Even the Myr’s peaceful peoples, the Mabbits and the Sapphyrro, fought as if they had been born into battle.  The entire host demonstrated the compelling unity of a people pushed to the edge.  

 

 

‘Pylos, what is that?’

         Pedaeus’ bloodied face was a portrait of confusion as he pointed up to the dark clouds above the battlefield.

         ‘What is what?’ Pylos said brusquely.

         ‘What is that?’

         In the sky above, massive shapes appeared, moving through the clouds slowly like great ships on the sea. 

          ‘I don’t believe it,’ he gasped.  ‘They’re skyships.’

          Jehenna strode up the hill to join them.  Her face was as bloody as Pedaeus’ but she was unharmed.  ‘Do you think they’re on our side?’ she said apprehensively.

          ‘There must be at least ten of them.  Can you see who mans the ships Jehenna?’

She squinted and then a flash of recognition lit up her eyes.  ‘Caquikki!  On the port rail of the largest ship I think I can see Lokota Fall.  They’re on our side!’

          Suddenly the ships above unleashed a barrage that hammered the island.  Spiked iron balls rained down upon Usnach.  Boiling oil fell like a deluge across the frozen plains.  Lumps of Cold were fired from the ships’ guns, resulting in great explosions of rock and ice.  This would have lifted the Myrrans’ hearts had it not been for one significant aspect – the bombardment was aimed at them.

          ‘Somehow Jehenna,’ Pylos said wryly, ‘I don’t think they’re on our side.’