When Verain looked at him he felt for the first time in months that there was a connection. He had satiated her mind. They headed for their tent. As others chatted outside, in the light of fires that spat against the bleakness of the Tineag’l sky, the pair huddled together under the same blankets, finding a renewed interest in the details of each other’s bodies. Only since regaining his mortality did Dartun truly appreciate the texture and fragrance of her skin. Subtleties he had forgotten were rediscovered under his fingertips, his lips.

As his mouth now sought the warmth of her neck, there came a cry from outside. Dartun sat up, peering around the tent as if to locate the source there.

It sounded again.

One of his order in alarm or distress?

Dartun looked back to Verain, who reflected his alert gaze. ‘Let’s see what’s going on.’

They dressed quickly, then headed out into the intense cold where he saw his order gathered in a cluster, on a hillock some way off. He trudged through the snow to see what they were all staring at.

‘What’s going on?’ he demanded.

‘Godhi, something on the horizon,’ someone replied.

Dartun pushed his way to the front and noticed a strange glow where the earth met the sky. Directly north, a faint touch of white light shone like a warning beacon against the surrounding blackness. His heart started to beat quicker: could this be what he was searching for? But why could they see it now and not earlier?

‘Fetch my maps,’ Dartun instructed, still staring in excitement. Within moments, someone was thrusting the documents into his hand.

‘Not only there,’ Tuung observed. ‘To the east slightly, as well.’

Dartun’s gaze shifted to his right, where another line on the horizon was glowing. And suddenly he recognized them as a row of torches. There must be hundreds of them, at least an hour’s journey away.

‘Looks like an army of some type,’ he decided.

‘Jamur?’ Tuung suggested.

‘Possibly,’ Dartun replied.

‘Do you think they’re heading this way?’

‘How long have you been here watching?’ Dartun enquired.

‘Not long. Five minutes at most.’

‘Let’s wait a little longer,’ Dartun said, then turned to the rest of his followers. ‘Everyone get ready, round up the undead, put out those fires.’

He turned to study the first light. It could have been an atmospheric trick, but he could have sworn the white glow there had aggregated into the shape of a doorway.

The scout returned, his light sled fizzing to a halt. Four dogs panted heavily.

‘So what did you see, lad?’ Dartun raised his voice above the wind. His cheeks were stinging in the cold, so he brought up his hood.

‘I couldn’t get very close, but that’s no Empire army.’ Todi shuffled nervously on the ice. ‘Isn’t like any tribe I’ve ever seen, either. I could swear most of them were wearing some weird kind of armour that covered the entire body.’

‘Did it look like some kind of shell?’

‘Aye, I suppose it could, yes.’

‘What else did you see?’ Dartun urged.

‘Rumel, too, but not so many of them, though there’s hundreds of the armoured things over there. They’ve pitched a camp by the looks of it.’

‘And the other light directly north?’ Dartun demanded.

‘Shaped like a door, just as you said,’ Todi replied. ‘It’s big – about four men high.’

Dartun had no real idea what a Realm Gate would look like, but this sounded encouraging. However, he tried not to become too excited by the prospect of it. And the army camped closer could well have stepped through it. Dartun was aware that something new had come to this island, and it was far from benevolent.

The coming of the ice really had brought a change upon the Boreal Archipelago.

Todi tossed him back the deyja, a small device that caused momentary invisibility.

Dartun was impressed by this youngster. Whilst he might be naive, he was always keen to undertake these risky little missions now and then.

Dartun turned to the others. ‘Prepare yourselves for an operation of stealth, using every device at our disposal. We head for the gate.’

But he couldn’t hide the normal sounds made by the sleds and the dogs, nor could anything but darkness hide the undead. Dawn was an hour or so away, the horizon not yet purpling as the Order of the Equinox sped across the flat ice towards the north. Sunrise and sunset were a sudden business this far north. The armed undead ran alongside them, an eerily regular patter to their footsteps, as if they had connected to some distant mind in unison. Dartun didn’t actually care what they were connected to, as long as they offered him some protection. Whether they were up to confronting this new race that was invading Tineag’l was another matter, but he had his relics, and he was still the most proficient cultist in the Archipelago. Years of acquiring knowledge wouldn’t be wasted.

He crouched, his knees pulled up to his face, riding on a smaller sled along with Verain, Todi and Tuung, the three most trustworthy of his cultists. They travelled at the very front of the group, although the deyja was in operation so they couldn’t be seen, only their trails in the snow.

It wasn’t long before he could discern the peregrine army in more detail. Setting eyes on them for the first time in this crepuscular hour, he thought the assembled creatures shunned light itself, creatures seeking darkness. Not the best omen.

Their sheer numbers were worrying, too. Dartun estimated several thousand judging from the extent of their camp. Rumel mingled with the newer race, their distinctive skin reflecting the glow of torches ranged in neat rows to an almost mathematical precision. Dartun focused his gaze to the gate itself, the object of his travel. Of his desire. That way lay his only hope of finding something to prolong his life once again.

The call of some instrument sounded over to the east.

Torches began to shift, clustering in a manner that suggested a disturbance had been spotted. And Dartun knew full well that he was the focus of this attention. He tapped Tuung on the shoulder, who pulled on the reins to halt the dogs. Dartun pushed himself upright, stepped out of the sled. He picked up a skjaldborg, a heavy brass box like a traveller’s chest, the same device he had designed for the Jamur forces decades ago. For a moment he headed forward as if to meet the oncoming ranks, even though he had his suspicions that they wouldn’t be coming in peace. Dartun placed the skjaldborg down with a grunt, arranged it in the snow to face towards the intruders. They were indeed gathering in force now, a mass of black soldiers under the fire of torches. Thousands of them. He opened the relic, took off his gloves, adjusted the tiny dials inside. Closed his eyes, sensing the most minor of movements inside. A difficult task to perform in any weather, let alone out here. As the technology clicked into place, he opened his eyes to see sparks of Dawnir power flicker across its open surface. He stepped back, closed the lid, then glanced up to both sides in turn.

Behind him, his order remained still, an expression of fear on their faces.

‘Don’t worry.’ He returned back to join them. ‘They won’t get past that for at least an hour.’

‘Where did you set the limits?’ Tuung said.

‘I didn’t,’ Dartun said, and from someone there came a gasp.

Dartun put on his gloves and waited.

The army approached at a rapid pace, flaunting no banners – this was nothing graceful. The rumel rode horses, their heads clear above the level of the armoured alien race who travelled just as quickly by foot. They could soon see that this wasn’t armour, but a kind of shell. Shell-creatures with claws, black and fearsome, but Dartun eyed them with a casual regard, as if watching an experiment.