soaking the Skraelings as they climbed. Then they tossed torches, igniting whole sections of
climbing Skraelings. Their flesh burst into gouts of fire and the creatures fell screaming to the
snow, their bodies dissolving into grey sludge almost as soon as they hit the snow.
But fuel was in critically short supply and most of the defenders along the wall had to
rely on their weapons to fight the wretches as they reached the top of the walls. More and more
Skraelings emerged from the mists, but as Axis strode the length of the walls it seemed that
Gorkentown might hold. The Skraelings had yet to make a significant breach in his defences.
Axis permitted himself to hope a little.
Then he saw two SkraeBolds walk out of the mist, a mass of Skraelings parting like a sea
about them. The SkraeBolds stopped not twenty paces from the gates, their posture relaxed, an
amused expression on their dreadfully mutated faces. One idly scratched its belly as the pair
studied the gate.
Axis fought his way back along the battlements until he stood looking down on them.
―Greetings, Axis Rivkahson,‖ one of the SkraeBolds called, its voice distorted as it hissed
past its beak. ―We have come for you. Behold!‖ It waved its taloned hand to something as yet
hidden in the mist.
The SkraeBolds moved fast. Gorgrael knew well the relationship between Enchanter and
Enchanter‘s son, and had carefully instructed his SkraeBolds regarding StarDrifter‘s fate.
The elder of the SkraeBolds, SkraeFear, directed his two companions to continue the
slaughter among the Banes and Enchanters. He could deal with StarDrifter himself, he hissed, his
pride not letting him allow the three to attack together as instructed. SkraeFear wanted to be the
one to present StarDrifter to Gorgrael. He wanted Gorgrael to recognise SkraeFear as the leader
of the SkraeBolds. It was he, after all, who had rescued Gorgrael from the ruin of his mother‘s
belly.
StarDrifter‘s training as an Enchanter had never prepared him for this. He had never
contemplated being alive during the time of the Prophecy of the Destroyer and did not have the
powers to repel such an attack. Yet despite his fear and his sense of impotence and failure he
never once thought that he could simply lift out of the battlefield. He could not desert his dying
brethren, even if it meant his own death.
StarDrifter heard a soft sound behind him and turned.
Five paces away stood something that should never have existed.
―StarDrifter,‖ it hissed. ―I have come for you.‖ It flexed its clawed hands at its side.
StarDrifter lifted his head, his eyes calm.
SkraeFear took a step closer, tilting its dreadful head to one side as it contemplated the
Enchanter. So, this was the Father. It was ugly, ugly, all white and gold.
―Do you love your son, Enchanter?‖ it asked, its silver eyes cold and calculating, its
tongue lolling completely out of its beak.
StarDrifter hesitated only an instant. ―Yes,‖ he said, his voice strong. ―Yes, I‘ve loved
Axis through all those years when I thought he was dead. Now that I find he is alive, I find my
love confirmed and renewed.‖
SkraeFear hissed in anger, his clawed hands half raised. ―No! No! I mean your elder son.
Your heir. The one who will win such fame, such power, that he will be the one through whom
you are remembered. Gorgrael. Do you love Gorgrael?‖
StarDrifter‘s eyes became hard and cold. ―I pity him. I do not love him. I do not honour
him. I turn my back on him. He is not my heir.‖
The SkraeBold screamed and, ignoring all instructions to the contrary, attacked the
Enchanter.
Axis heard Belial gasp in shock and turned and met his second-in-command‘s eye for a
moment. Then he turned back to the horror working its way towards one of the western sections
of the town walls. It had a head like a distorted horse‘s, with the silver eyes common to all of
Gorgrael‘s creatures and an open mouth containing as many teeth as a Skraeling—except, on this
huge head, they were almost as long as a man was tall. Ridged flesh like raised scales ran down
its neck and back, and its body was ridged and sectioned like that of a worm. It was fat, its sides
bulging and convulsing obscenely, as if it were in the throes of birth pangs. It had no limbs, and
hunched and slithered its way towards the walls, running down those Skraelings that did not
move out of its way fast enough. IceWorm.
―Axis, look!‖ Belial screamed at the BattleAxe‘s side, and Axis turned to where he
pointed. Four more of the IceWorms slithered out of the mist.
―The gods help us if they‘re attacking along the length of the walls,‖ Axis snapped.
―Come!‖
They ran to the spot the nearest IceWorm was aiming for. Axis snatched an archer‘s bow
and a handful of arrows. ―Here, my friend,‖ he said, thrusting the bow towards Belial. ―You‘re
the archer, not I. Aim for its eyes.‖
Belial flexed his fingers and notched an arrow into the bow. ―Luck guide me,‖ he
whispered, his face a mask of concentration, holding his aim until the IceWorm reared its body
some ten paces above the battlements. Then he loosed his breath and the arrow at the same time.
The arrow hit the IceWorm just below the level of its eyes and bounced harmlessly off the scaly
armoured skin of its cheekbone. Axis slapped another arrow into Belial‘s outstretched hand.
Belial let fly again; this time the arrow flew true and struck deep into the IceWorm‘s eye, blood
spattering down over the walls. The creature toppled over backward, screaming its anger and
agony. Belial and Axis rushed over and looked down as the IceWorm crashed into the snow. It
split apart in a dozen places as it hit the ground, and out of its sides writhed Skraeling wraiths.
Fear crawled down Axis‘ back and he turned and grabbed Belial‘s arm. ―Quick, get the
archers to work. We‘ve got to stop these creatures before their heads top the walls and they
disgorge their loads!‖
Belial nodded tersely, and ran along the battlements, shouting for the archers to come
forward.
Axis looked back at the disintegrating body of the IceWorm, and then checked on the
progress of the other four. His eyes slipped towards the two SkraeBolds and for one frightening
moment he could not see them. Then his eyes caught a movement down at the gates.
Azhure collided with body after body, some Icarii, some Avar, some Skraeling.
Sometimes blood-reddened hands reached out to her in appeal, sometimes blood-reddened claws
reached out to her in a mad lust of hunger. Azhure stumbled ahead, her hands pressed against her
face, her legs somehow carrying her through the throng, Pease‘s agonised, dying face before her
always. A Skraeling reached for her and caught her by the shoulder, spinning her around. As Azhure felt the claw bite deeply into her shoulder rage suddenly flared and exploded through her
numb terror. Her hand brushed the back of an Icarii warrior, slowly collapsing to the ground
beside her. Her fingers tangled among the feathered arrows in the quiver on his back and,
without thinking what she was doing, she grabbed one of the arrows and pulled it out of the
quiver, plunging it towards the Skraeling‘s eye.
The arrow burst the silver orb as satisfactorily as a plague boil that begs to be lanced and
bright blood spurted forth over Azhure‘s face and neck.
―The eyes!‖ she screamed, the triumph of her voice commanding more attention than the
scream itself. ―Strike them in the eyes! The eyes! They die!‖
She tugged the arrow out of the disintegrating wraith‘s eye socket and turned to the
wraith mauling an Avar man next to her. Grabbing the wraith‘s head until it bent back, she
plunged the arrow into its eye. Then she turned again and again, screaming all the time, seizing
wraith after wraith, plunging the arrow down again and again. Those who heard her took up the
cry. Soon, in an ever-widening circle, the Avar and the Icarii began to fight back. Knives and
arrows were loosed and used. Wraiths started to die. The Crest-Leaders could finally launch their
Strike Force into action with orders to close on the Skraelings from above and behind, seizing
their heads and plunging arrows directly into their eyes. Panic spread among the wraiths.
The SkraeBolds leaned into the two iron barred wooden gates of Gorkentown, legs
straddled, hands placed as far apart on the wood as they could. They sang a broken tune, horrible
to listen to, dark and destructive music that split the air about them.
Axis moaned. Their song tore deep inside of him, and only by running the tune of the
Icarii ward of protection through his mind could he stop the dreadful effects of their singing. For
a distance of some twenty paces along the wall either side of the gates men dropped their