Luke Scull - The Grim Company

Kayne realized then that the man must have been some kind of commander — but it wasn’t just his death that seemed to be swinging the battle. Fifty yards away, General D’rak faced off against the big fellow who had wreaked untold havoc with his glowing hammer. The Augmentor was staring at the now-dim weapon with a perplexed expression. He swung it at the Sumnian general, who caught the maul between his khopeshes. Like a whirling dervish, he spun away from the larger man only to close in again with frightening speed, his wicked curved swords slicing and chopping. The Augmentor went down in a spray of blood, the great hammer clattering uselessly from his hands. A loud cheer went up from the Sumnians nearby.

Brodar Kayne scanned the battlefield, noting how small gains were being made everywhere he looked. You developed a sense for these things, once you survived enough fights. The tide was about ready to turn, he reckoned. They’d take the city by nightfall.

He searched around for Jerek and Sasha. He couldn’t remember when he had last seen either of them, but then, a life or death struggle can do weird things to a man’s sense of time.

There was a sudden commotion to the north. Yet again, the fighting was temporarily stalled as both sides stared out at the rising hills in the distance. Kayne squinted, cursed his poor vision, and then plucked his sword up from where it stood in the dirt and moved closer for a better look.

The hills were heaving with dark shapes, and they were getting closer. The ageing Highlander stood there for a time, at first confused, then concerned, and finally unable to believe what he was seeing.

A horde of savage animals was descending upon the battlefield. It could only mean one thing.

The Brethren . Brodar Kayne’s scarred hands gripped the hilt of his greatsword so tightly the blood drained from his fingers.

The Shaman’s here .

He pounded across the battlefield, paying no heed to the pain in his knees. Panicked shouts were already echoing from ahead of him: Sumnian voices shouting foul curses or screaming for aid. In moments the Brethren were among them, falling upon the mercenaries in a snarling, slavering avalanche of fur that showed no mercy.

Stunned by the arrival of these unlikely allies and fearful for their own lives, the city’s defenders initially fell back. When it became clear the animals were attacking the invaders, they grew bold and waded back into the battle.

As quickly as that, the city’s liberators were once again on the back foot.

Kayne scanned the field wildly as he ran. His heart would have sunk if it hadn’t been threatening to burst out of his chest. Everywhere he looked Sumnians were under assault by the menagerie that had suddenly appeared among them. They were hardened warriors, some of the finest soldiers in the world, but the Brethren were unknown to them. They had no idea what they faced.

To the right of him, near the city wall, three Sumnians stabbed at a bear with sword and spear while a trio of huge transcended wolves padded silently up behind them. The animals pounced, each set of massive jaws locking around a southerner’s throat and dragging him to the ground before crushing his windpipe.

They think they’re fighting animals , Kayne thought grimly. But the Brethren aren’t animals. They’re beasts with the intelligence of a man and the Shaman’s will behind ’em . If there was one thing he’d learned in all the years spent fighting alongside the Brethren, it was that twelve inches of steel was rarely a match for razor fangs capable of crushing bone and armour — or claws sharp enough to cut through leather and flesh as easily as parchment.

A huge elk suddenly reared up before him, blood dripping from its right antler. The Transcended intended to crush him, but he rolled to the left and sliced sideways with his greatsword. He felt the blade connect, cut through muscle and bone. The elk made a high-pitched whining noise and crashed over onto its side.

Kayne was back up and running immediately. Roars, howls and shrieks filled the air. He leaped over the savaged bodies of dead mercenaries, ducked as a great eagle swooped overhead and then launched itself at him, talons clawing at his face. It screeched suddenly and tried to wheel away, a crossbow bolt protruding from its tawny feathered breast. It rose above the battlefield, careered wildly a few times, and then tumbled back down to earth, twitching spasmodically.

There was a commotion twenty yards to the right of him. He glanced over and saw the southerner who’d fired the crossbow desperately trying to reload as a monstrous grizzly closed on him, trailing gore from its gigantic jaws. With a swipe of one clubbing paw it tore open the soldier’s chest, sending droplets of blood splattering across the faces of the Sumnians behind him. The bear unleashed a mighty roar and reared up on its hind legs, ten feet of savage bulk and deadly claws driven by insatiable bloodlust.

Gaern . Kayne finally recognized the Transcended. There were many bears among the Brethren, but none were as huge as the great old grizzly about to fall upon the unfortunate mercenaries.

There was the flash of something golden emerging from the cowering southerners, and suddenly Gaern roared in agony, a colossal spear buried deep in his hide. The Sumnians parted and General Zahn strode forwards, both hands clutching the shaft of the spear, driving Gaern back. Half a ton of furious bear snarled and writhed, tried desperately to free itself, but Zahn had him pinned. His men quickly recovered from their shock and raised their weapons, falling upon the helpless Transcended in a flurry of chopping swords and axes.

Kayne looked away, feeling an odd sense of sadness. He’d known Gaern before the warrior transcended. He’d been a solid sort. Even after his transformation, Gaern had fought alongside him a few times — as recently as the abomination attack on Glistig in the East Reaching a scarce four years back.

He shook his head angrily. That was in the past. The Brethren had chased him and the Wolf all over the High Fangs for the best part of two years.

Kayne gritted his teeth and began running once more, his eyes narrowed on the spot where the hills began rising five hundred yards ahead of him. The hulking presence of the Magelord was unmistakable even from this distance, even with his bad eyes.

The Shaman had not bothered to keep any of the Brethren back to guard him. Neither had he shifted shape in order to watch safely from the clouds high above, or assumed his most favoured form, that of a great woolly mammoth, a near unstoppable creature. That wasn’t the Magelord’s style. Whatever else a man might say about him, the Shaman was no coward.

Even as he watched, the Shaman plucked a spear out of the air and snapped it between his arms with a mighty grunt. Kayne glanced at the two Sumnians facing off against him and knew instantly they were dead men. There was nothing he could do about it. Chances were he’d be joining them soon enough.

He had no idea what the Shaman was doing in the Trine, or why he had unleashed the Brethren against the city’s liberators. Being honest, he didn’t much care.

He had a score to settle.

Panting, filthy, covered in sweat, he arrived just as the Shaman was finishing off the two mercenaries. They’d lasted a good deal longer than he expected they would. Both men now flopped uselessly on the mud, necks broken and swords shattered. He slowed to a walk, breathing deeply, his gaze locked on the immortal he had once served. The immortal he had considered a friend .

The Shaman finally noticed him. His glacial blue eyes widened slightly in surprise. ‘Kayne,’ he stated in his low, rumbling voice. His muscles seemed to tense. ‘You’re a long way from the High Fangs.’