He saw the Kolansii line opposite him flinch back suddenly, saw them hesitate, and Onos Toolan did not understand.
Low, deep laughter sounded from somewhere on his right, and even as he turned, a voice spoke.
‘Imass, we greet you.’
Now, pushing through to stand in the foremost line – Jaghut .
Armoured, helmed, bristling with weapons, all of it dripping blood.
The Jaghut beside Onos Toolan then said in a loud voice, ‘Suvalas! Are you as beautiful as I remembered?’
A female shouted in answer, ‘You only remember what I told you, Haut! And it was all lies!’
Amid Jaghut laughter, the one named Haut tilted his head to regard Onos Toolan. ‘To draw breath was unexpected. We thought to fight with you – two lifeless but eternally stubborn peoples. A day of slaughter, hah!’
The Jaghut beyond Haut then said, ‘And slaughter it shall be! Alas, the wrong way round! And there are but fourteen of us. Aimanan – you are good with numbers! Does fourteen dead Jaghut constitute a slaughter?’
‘With five thousand Imass, I would think so, Gedoran!’
‘Then our disappointment is averted and I am once more at ease!’
The Jaghut drew weapons. Beside Onos Toolan, Haut said, ‘Join us, First Sword. If we must die, must it be on the back step? I think not.’ His eyes flashed from the shadows of his helm. ‘First Sword – do you see? Forkrul Assail, K’Chain Che’Malle, Imass and now Jaghut! What a fell party this is!’
Gedoran grunted and said, ‘All we now need are a few Thel Akai, Haut, and we can swap old lies all night long!’
And then, with bull roars, the Jaghut charged the Kolansii.
Onos Toolan leapt forward to join them, and behind him, the Imass followed.
Gillimada, who had been chosen to lead because she was the most beautiful, looked back on the way they’d come. She could barely make out the Barghast. ‘They are slow!’
‘If only you were taller, Gilli,’ bellowed her brother, Gand, ‘you could look the other way and see the fighting!’
Scowling, Gillimada faced forward again. ‘I was about to – impatient runt, Gand! Everyone, enough resting – we shall run some more. Do you all see?’
‘Of course we do,’ shouted one of her brother’s mouthy friends, ‘we’re all taller than you, Gilli!’
‘But who’s the most beautiful? Exactly!’
‘Gilli – there are Jaghut with those Imass!’
Gillimada squinted, but the truth of it was, she was the shortest one here. ‘Are they killing each other?’
‘No!’
‘Good! All the old stories are lies!’
‘Surely just that one, Gilli—’
‘No! If one is a lie then all of them are! I have spoken! Is everyone rested? Good! Let us join the fight, just like in the old story about the war against Death itself!’
‘But it’s a lie, Gilli – you just said so!’
‘Well, maybe I was the one doing the lying, did you think of that? Now, no more wasting of breath, let us run and fight!’
‘Gilli – I think it’s raining blood over there!’
‘I don’t care – you all have to do what I say, because I’m still the most beautiful, aren’t I?’
With the remaining K’ell Hunters – cut and slashed, many with the snapped stubs of arrow shafts protruding from their bodies – Sag’Churok advanced at a cantering pace. Before them, he could see the Imass – granted the bitter gift of mortality – locked in fierce battle against overwhelming numbers of Kolansii heavy infantry. Among them, near the front, there were armoured Jaghut.
To see these two ancient foes now standing side by side sent strange flavours surging through the K’ell Hunter, scouring away his exhaustion. He felt the scents flowing out now to embrace his kin, felt a reawakening of their strength.
What is this, that so stirs my heart?
It is … glory .
We rush to our deaths. We rush to fight beside ancient foes. We rush like the past itself, into the face of the present. And what is at stake? Why, nothing but the future itself .
Beloved kin, if this day must rain blood, let us add to it. If this day must know death, let us take its throat in our jaws. We are alive, and there is no greater power in all the world!
Brothers! Raise your swords!
Reaching level ground, the K’Chain Che’Malle K’ell Hunters stretched out their bodies, swords lifting high, and charged.
Two hundred and seventy-eight Teblor smashed into the flank of the Kolansii forces near the line of engagement. Suddenly singing ancient songs – mostly about unexpected trysts and unwelcome births – they thundered into the press, weapons swinging. Kolansii bodies spun through the air. Entire ranks were driven to the ground, trampled underfoot.
