Luke Scull - The Grim Company

Smaller pockets of fighting had broken out in spots just inside the wall. A group of Watchmen surrounded a pale-skinned woman and were hacking at her desperately. She was missing her left arm below the elbow, but the grievous wound did little to slow her. With stunning speed, the woman twisted out of the way of a sword thrust and flung herself on the back of one of her opponents. She reached around his neck as he tried to shake her off and almost yanked his head off. Barandas heard vertebrae snap as the man’s eyes rolled up into their sockets.

Setting his jaw in a grim line, the Supreme Augmentor strode towards the pale woman, who leaped from the soldier’s back as he fell lifeless to the ground. She sprang at him, almost got her hand to his throat before his sword cleaved her skull in two. Foul grey matter splattered over his golden armour but he ignored it, searching around for new enemies. He spotted two more of the pale women over by the left entrance to the gatehouse. They were standing at the centre of a heap of corpses, their white robes soaked through with blood.

One of the women noticed him. Her dead eyes revealed no surprise, no fear, no regard at all for the horror all around them. She pointed at him. Together the two pale women began moving closer.

His vision blurred for an instant as something fiery streaked across their path and then one of the women was hurtling backwards, a smoking hole in her chest. Barandas glanced to his right and saw Kalen drawing back his bow for another shot.

The ponytailed Augmentor gasped suddenly as the bloody point of a spear burst through his chest. His Sumnian killer was still trying to tug the weapon free as Garmond appeared, gore trailing from his gauntlets, and snatched the man up from the ground. With a sickening crack, he brought the southerner down over his knee, breaking his back.

Barandas tore his gaze away and focused on the unnatural creature approaching. The woman slowed a short distance from him and cocked her head as if surprised by something. ‘You have no heart,’ she observed in an emotionless monotone.

He gripped his sword more tightly, every muscle poised to spring into action. ‘I am more human than you, creature. Whatever you are.’

The woman’s lips curled into a smile, though nothing reached her eyes. ‘Then I will gladly fall beneath your blade, if you are worthy. I pray it is so.’

The smile faded.

As Barandas stared at the creature, understanding dawned. This… thing, whatever it was, wanted to die. He would do his best to oblige her.

She darted towards him and he rolled at the last instant, springing to his feet and twisting around to meet her as she pivoted for another attack. This time his sword caught her below the knee, causing her to stumble past him. Quick as a flash he reversed his swing and severed her spine. She stumbled to the ground — and then, to his horror, began pulling herself towards him with her arms, dragging her useless legs along the bloodstained cobbles.

‘ Do it ,’ she rasped, staring up at him with those soulless orbs. He nodded once, brought his sword up and back down, splitting her head like a melon. Whatever you were, I pity you , he thought. He watched the discoloured fluids draining out from the creature’s cranium. The thing was rotting from the inside; it smelled as if it had been dead for months.

Ragged cheering drew his attention. The arrival of the Augmentors had given the defenders a boost. As he surveyed the battlefield he saw most of the pale women were now dead or dying, though he had lost Kalen and, it seemed, his friend Varca, whose magical helm rested fifteen feet away from the Augmentor’s body. The severed head was still strapped inside the helm. Elsewhere the Sumnians had been driven back, and now the militia and the remnants of the Watch were pressing ahead, pushing them back further still.

Barandas raised his sword and gestured at the melee ahead of him, just outside the gates. ‘Forward!’ he shouted. His remaining Augmentors and the nearby defenders rushed to obey his command and together they surged into the enemy ranks. He turned away one spear, stabbed the owner through the guts and then yanked his sword free to behead another southerner.

A wall of shields suddenly loomed before them. The red-haired Augmentor, Jardwym, raised his mighty enchanted maul and swung it with all his strength. The shields exploded in a shower of splinters and the men holding them were thrown twenty feet backwards through the air from the force of the impact. Some struggled to their feet; others would never rise again.

Barandas’s eyes narrowed. Over there, on the hillock: a monster of a man, unimaginably tall, towering above even Garmond. He was naked from the waist up, his chest crisscrossed with old scars. This could only be the infamous general he had heard so much about.

The Supreme Augmentor made for the leader of the dark-skinned mercenaries. Cut off the head and the body will die . Lord Salazar was fond of that phrase — though he had done the opposite when he had massacred Shadowport…

Barandas gripped his sword firmly. This was not the time for uncertainty. He pressed ahead, killing with surgical precision any Sumnian in his path. The enchanted heart in his chest ensured his body never tired. Mentally he required occasional rest as might anyone else, but physically he was a machine: an inexhaustible instrument of unmatched lethality.

A lone enemy appeared just as a clear stretch to the small hill opened before him. Unlike the rest of them this one was white of skin. He was panting heavily, a greatsword clutched in his gnarled old hands. A jagged scar ran down his battered face and his hide armour was covered in spots of blood.

Barandas frowned. A Highlander? Here?

He thrust all thoughts aside as he closed on the greybeard. He launched his attack, intending to make short work of the old warrior. His first swing was blocked just as he anticipated, so he dropped his shoulder and reversed his stroke, ready to dash by the instant his blade sliced through-

His slash was parried. Shocked, he barely got his sword back up in time as the old man launched a counter-attack, striking with alarming skill, first one direction and then the other, the massive greatsword flowing as easily as the Redbelly River. Incredibly, Barandas found himself being driven back. He knocked aside one thrust, just about parried another, and then almost gasped in shock as the pommel of the greatsword caught him a glancing blow on the nose.

The old Highlander stared at him with implacable blue eyes. ‘Come at me,’ he growled.

Barandas obliged.

Davarus Cole stepped carefully around the debris and glanced up at the black monolith soaring above him. Smoke still billowed from the top of the Obelisk. Chunks of granite — the fallen remnants of the tower’s apex — littered the surrounding courtyard almost to the entrance, which was deserted. At any other time, at least twenty Watchmen would be stationed in the barracks either side of the courtyard. Right now every soldier in the city was desperately holding the walls against Dorminia’s would-be liberators.

Lost in thought, Cole accidentally bumped the chair against a piece of rubble. It jerked and almost toppled over. ‘Shit! Watch where you’re going!’ hissed his charge as he clung on for dear life.

‘Sorry,’ he mumbled. They had got this far on the pretence that Eremul had been summoned by the Tyrant of Dorminia, with Cole his begrudging helper. That deception would be useless once they were inside the tower. He was sweating under his leathers, and not just from the warmth of the afternoon sun.

Eremul hissed suddenly, ‘There’s someone coming.’ A red-cloaked guard emerged from the shadows shrouding the entrance to the Obelisk. The mage shot him a warning look. ‘Let me do the talking.’