The troops were lined up and ready, all carrying the large heavy shields, designed for mounting on the walls against ranged attacks, but now being carried into the field. Against undead, with their slow, heavy strikes, they should work, even if they were useless against any normal attackers. She took one of the axes, most of their weight in the head and swung it – it should have enough power to smash through meat and bone in a stroke, although would be exhausting to use for long.

Janaxia was taking a break from being on watch, unhappily nibbling on military rations, grimacing with every bite. Stathis beckoned Mavrosa over, tutting at the horse when she tried to nuzzle Janaxia, who took a step back, then a comforting pat when she obeyed. Stathis mounted up, trying to guide Mavrosa – she seemed obedient, for a summoned-up spirit horse.

‘Thanks Janaxia. Just to check, she’s not going to burst into flames or vanish if I get too far from you or anything?’ She patted Mavrosa on the neck, trying to calm her down.

‘No, I do not believe so. Although I would rather she not be caused excessive distress.’ Mavrosa’s head swung around, Janaxia barely avoiding a slobbery lick. ‘Although perhaps a little discipline would teach her to be less overly familiar!’

‘She’s just being friendly, isn’t that right?’ Mavrosa whickered, Stathis starting to guide her with her knees. ‘She’s well trained though. Janaxia, you stay here, keep an eye on Hakara, and blast anything you can. Try and be loud and obvious if you can, it’ll make them less suspicious if they can see you.’ Janaxia’s lash was still glowing, making Mavrosa’s hide gleam an unearthly red-black, the golden swirl on her armour shifting faster now, flowing like liquid. ‘Are you feeling OK? Your hair isn’t normally that bright, and when was the last time you slept?’

‘Oh, I feel quite energised. The atmosphere of risk is certainly thrilling, in a rather strange way. I feel quite fine.’ She grinned, almost ready to attack.

‘I would say get some rest, but I don’t think there’s time right now. So try not to cause any trouble, just be obvious.’

‘I’m sure I can manage that.’ She was looking almost proud. ‘But do take care. Being torn apart by a large swarm of undead is likely unpleasant, at least judging by the screams that normally ensue. Although I have to say, you do look rather dashing – your armour could do with a shine, but the white-on-black is a rather eye-catching combination.’

‘I’m not really interested in looking good, but thanks. Right, let’s get started.’ She made Mavrosa whirl and rear up, kicking at the air, Janaxia taking a sharp step back.

‘FORM UP!’ The troops swiftly moved into position, a tight square, shields making a rigid barrier. ‘Just in case anyone hasn’t heard, we’re charging in and through. No last stands, just cut straight through, make it into their camp, and then take down anyone in a robe. Major Colobra will be launching a secondary attack to keep them busy, at the same time as my colleagues catch them in a pincer movement. I know those things are fucking heavy, so let’s keep this short, before your arms fall off. I’ll lead and make a gap, you push in and cut through. This is what they pay us for, so let’s get it done!’

She looked down at the soldiers, expressions varying between fear, tiredness, even boredom. ‘No turning round, no looking back! This is where you earn the black! Keep moving, don’t get dragged under!’ She drew her sword, the gem on the hilt gleaming. ‘We are Iristari! The line of the dawn against the night, the first cut of light, where the darkness ends!’

Well, that seems a little brusque. A little darkness makes certain activities more charming, does it not, and can make an assignation far more enticing. Janaxia was looking mildly disgruntled, still burning with malefic power. Stathis ignored her, raising her sword high.

‘Ready the gate! We ride, and the dawn rides with us!’

Two wizards on the gate began casting spells, flame blasting down, as the portcullis was raised, the gate starting to open, catching on remnants of the body before Janaxia gestured, knocking the ribcage aside with a cascade of eldritch bolts.

Try and stay safe. It would be decidedly inconvenient if you were to die here.

Stathis nudged Mavrosa forward, the gate slowly opening until it was wide enough to ride through and she could kick Mavrosa into faster movement. Behind her, she could hear the rhythmic thudding of boots, armour and shields, as the soldiers began to pick up speed themselves.

She charged into a small group, blade swinging, cleaving one in half. The main formation was still ahead, the gap swiftly closing as Mavrosa accelerated, hitting a steady pace. Power burnt through her sword, golden light flaring into life, the first body she attacked exploding into dust from her attack. Up ahead, the rest of the horde was slowly responding, but couldn’t form a coherent defensive line before coming under attack.

Stathis plunged into them, letting Mavrosa’s bulk carry her through the first few, flesh and bone getting trampled underfoot before she started swinging and slashing, not needing to aim, simply creating a gap. Behind her, there was the sound of steel on flesh, grunts of effort and the soldiers ploughed forward, slamming the undead backwards with their shields, axes flashing and mangling bodies. Those that fell but weren’t destroyed still tried to crawl, the formation pounding forward and crushing them underfoot.

Past the front line, their momentum started to slow, Mavrosa kicking out and shattering a skull as Stathis swung and cleaved. More sunlight sparked out from her blade, the undead reacting, and relenting in their attack, until they were caught up and destroyed by the attacking formation.

Through the first line, they sped up over the open ground, smashing through the smaller groups in their way. The rest of the horde was starting to form up ahead of them, a thick barrier of undead, ominous darkness behind.

Resistance was stiffer now, Stathis barely able to make it past the front ranks before they were too dense. Sunlight flared again, a ripple passing through the undead, dark mist raising up to counter it. Close behind her came the thunderous crash of metal on meat, the formation slamming straight forward, powering straight through.

One cut at Mavrosa, blade cutting her haunches. Stathis managed to keep her under control as she whinnied in pain, making her spin and kick out, crushing a skull. More of them were coming to focus on her now, their eyes flickering crimson, the dark mist intensifying. She smashed another, red eyes fading before burning to life on another. She defended as much as she could, blocking strikes and thrusts, but without barding, Mavrosa was a large target, more attacks hitting her, cutting her skin.

She kicked her feet out from the reins, managing a running dismount as Mavrosa charged and kicked, managing to destroy another three. She was bleeding from several wounds, although the blood vanished into dark mist before hitting the ground. Mavrosa whickered in pain, another wound blossoming as she was stabbed, stumbling forward. Her body started to fade into dark shadows as Stathis charged past her, slicing at another skeleton, pausing for a moment to stoop and apologise. ‘Sorry. I’ll buy you some nice oats next time.’

Mavrosa whickered again before vanishing.

On foot, it was impossible to see how much further ahead of them the horde stretched, only an endless, unrelenting horde. A skull suddenly burnt with red light, the body moving faster, before an axe cleaved through it, shattering the ribs and spine, red mist fleeing.

The formation was close behind her now, a solid mass of thick shields and smashing axes. Even with their momentum gone, they were still able to make steady headway, pulverising the undead. She could see gaps in the formation though, and shields that had been damaged, the wood smashed and splintered.

There was no time to speak, just an endless slashing and crunching of bone and ancient meat, as they fought their way forward, step by step. She was drenched with sweat, chill within her armour, as a blow bounced off her shoulder-plate. She turned and countered, severing a leg, leaving the formation to deal with the toppled creature.

There was a white flash and a burning spark, blinding flash of lightning shooting from somewhere nearby. It arced into Stathis, armour suddenly hot, before leaping into the formation, arcing between more targets. The charge slowed but didn’t stop. Through the press, Stathis caught a glimpse of someone different than the undead, a robed figure, already starting to cast again, runes forming above their hands.

She charged, slicing at one zombie, ignoring sword-strikes rattling her armour, trying not to think of the bruises. One grabbed at her, arms wrapping around her shoulders, but she kept moving, wrenching it from its feet as she powered forward. A spray of magical darts shot out, screaming ethereal skulls streaking towards her. She managed to block one with her shield, others colliding, knocking her off-balance slightly. She tottered, twisting and stabbing behind her, managing to dislodge the zombie.

Beneath their hood, the mage was looking terrified now, casting again. Shadows writhed and flickered, a sense of doom trying to impress itself upon Stathis, eat her will, make her fearful and weak. She ignored it, striding forward and stabbing, the necromancer’s instinctive block with his staff coming too slow, bone and live flesh crunching under her attack, before she bashed him in the face with her shield, knocking him to the ground. He tried to scrabble away, before Stathis stabbed down at him, into his chest.

There was no time to check that he was properly dead, too much else going on. They had passed through the thickest part, but the undead were turning now, ready to fight again, as they plunged forward.

The domes of darkness were still present, but were thinner now, more like thick smoke than impenetrable absences of light. Stathis could see trails of actual smoke drifting upwards, and the sounds of combat. Six creatures, bodies reinforced with heavy metal plates, formed a shield line, pikes slowly dropping towards her. She ducked around to the side, skidding on the dewy ground, taking a hit to her shoulder. The creatures were too slow to defend, even as another group shambled forward to try and block her, she managed to get behind them, striking at one. The whole group was attached together, even slower now they had to drag one along.

Inside the camp, everything was dimly lit, cast into twilight haze by the darkness. She raised her shield just in time to block a blast of ice, shards peppering her over the edge, cold sinking into the metal of her gauntlet, an icicle barely missing her face. An arrow suddenly pierced them through the arm, disrupting another spell. Stathis tried to move as fast as she could, but Vrintar exploded from the shadows in a flurry of blows, her body now wrapped in a shimmering heat-haze. The necromancer’s body almost fell apart from the fury of her strikes, blood streaking through the air, hissing into steam when it hit Vrintar. She gave Stathis an unnerving smile, before sprinting back off into the darkness.

Crashing and slamming of metal came from behind her, as the formation slammed into, then through, the final line of defence. More arrows started to arc in from above, Stathis raising her shield to protect herself from friendly fire. Several of the wagons were already on fire, a figure leaping between them.

Arrows cut the air, spells blasting back, a skeleton suddenly charging at Stathis, eyes burning red. She ducked an attack, her counter clumsy, strike glancing off metal plates. It swung back with an oversized mace, smashing against Stathis’ armour, metal crunching under the assault. They faced off, Stathis trying to beat through it before getting bogged down in combat. The thing was swathed in thick metal plates, tougher than normal armour, her strikes doing little against it. The mace swung, bouncing off her shield. She thrust forward, managing to stab it in the skull, sword stabbing through an eye-socket and out the back, shattering bone.

It stopped moved, sagging downwards, almost taking her sword with it before she could pull it back. She stopped for a moment, trying to catch her breath. The sounds of spellcasting and combat were coming from somewhere close by, as she turned and headed that way.

Three of the largest wagons were close together, all inscribed with spells, a flickering aura of deeper black emanating from them. A circle of robed figures was present, energy spiralling around them. Semari jumped at one with a kick, before a lash of darkness intercepted her, knocking her back. In the very centre of the circle, a swirling glyph of power at their feet, was the obvious leader, his robe emblazoned with gems and silver thread, a skull-topped staff in one hand, book held open in the other. It was hard to see through the darkness, but it looked awfully similar to Janaxia’s, except less thick – was that just an “evil wizard” thing, or something more meaningful?

Stathis carefully poked forward with her sword, more of the darkness spiralling towards her. She could feel chill radiating out, although it was less penetrating than Janaxia’s spells. One of the other wizards cast a spell, a ray of energy heading towards Stathis, trying to leech her strength. She tensed and focused, shrugging off the effect.

The rest of the zombie army would be coming for them as soon as they could turn; they had to break through and defeat the necromancers quickly. More arrows shot from the darkness, the shadows bunching and flexing to absorb the shots. Semari punched and kicked again, still unable to penetrate.

Stathis drew on the last of her power, her sword blazing brightly now. Where it touched the darkness, the two forces swirled and fought, the light unable to fully penetrate and dispel the darkness. It at least seemed to blind and daze the necromancers, the leader covering his eyes for a moment. She stepped forward, feeling the darkness push back, a physical force warding her away. A tendril of the stuff flicked towards her, before she hacked at it with her sword, slicing it apart.

The leader saw her, tracing a pattern onto the ground, swirling lines eerily reminiscent of Janaxia’s tattoo. Darkness burst forth, barbed tentacles shooting towards her. She dodged backwards, swinging to try and protect herself.

Tiredness and a desperate, clawing cold reached up in her mind, as she swung at them, still trying to break through the barrier. Above her, the darkness shifted and warped, bending in on itself, the shadows twisting into a spiral.

A figure, slender, feminine and wrapped in gleaming chainmail strode elegantly out of the darkness, a red glow overpowering the blacker darkness, golden chains dangling from gleaming horns. It was Janaxia that strode out, bending the fingers of one hand (her nails hadn’t been that long before, had they? They were like talons!) into an impossible position. A dome of darkness burst into life around her, shredding through the tenebrous mist, everyone inside vanishing into impenetrable darkness.