Trotts,' Hedge called out. 'I ain't happy about what's underfoot. There's cracks. This whole roof is nothing but cracks.'
'Same for the walls,' another sapper noted. 'All sides.'
'This building is filled with bodies,' said a small warrior in Lestari armour beside the Daru. 'They're swelling, I guess.'
His eyes still on the big Daru, Paran asked, 'Do you have a name?'
'Gruntle.'
'Are you some kind of sect, or something? Temple warriors?'
Gruntle slowly faced him, his expression mostly hidden beneath the helm's visor. 'No. We are nothing. No-one. This is for a woman. And now she's dying-'
'Which tent?' Mallet interrupted in his high, thin voice.
'The Warren of Denul is poisoned-'
'You feel that, do you, Gruntle? Curious.' The healer waited, then asked again, 'Which tent?'
Gruntle's Lestari companion pointed. 'There. She was stuck through bad. Blood in the lungs. She might already be …' He fell silent.
Paran followed Mallet to the tattered shelter.
The woman lying within was pale, her young face drawn and taut. Frothy blood painted her lips.
And here, there's more.
The captain watched the healer settle to his knees beside her, reach out his hands.
'Hold it,' Paran growled. 'The last time damn near killed you-'
'Not my gift, Captain. Got Barghast spirits crowding me with this one, sir. Again. Don't know why. Someone's taken a personal interest, maybe. It may be too late anyway. We'll see … all right?'
After a moment, Paran nodded.
Mallet laid his hands on the unconscious woman, closed his eyes. A dozen heartbeats passed. 'Aai,' he finally whispered. 'Layers here. Wounded flesh… wounded spirit. I shall need to mend both. So … will you help me?'
The captain realized the question was not being asked of him, and so made no reply.
Mallet, eyes still closed, sighed. 'You will sacrifice so many for this woman?' He paused, eyes still closed, then frowned. 'I can't see these threads you speak of. Not her, nor Gruntle, nor the man at my side-'
At your side? Me? Threads? Gods, why don't you just leave me alone?
'-but I'll take your word for it. Shall we begin?'
Moments passed, the healer motionless above the woman. Then she stirred on her pallet, softly moaned.
The tent was torn from around them, guidewires snapping. Paran's head jerked up in surprise. To see Gruntle, chest heaving, standing above them.
'What?' the Daru gasped. 'What-' He staggered back a step, was brought up by Trotts's firm hands on his shoulders.
'No such thing,' the Barghast growled, 'as too late.'
Approaching, Antsy grinned. 'Hello, Capustan. The Bridgeburners have arrived.'
The sounds of fighting from the north and the east accompanied the dawn. The White Face clans had finally engaged the enemy. Picker and the others would later learn of the sudden and bloody pitched battle that occurred at the landings on the coast and on the shore of Catlin River. The Barahn and Ahkrata clans had collided with newly arrived regiments of Betaklites and Betrullid cavalry. The commander there had elected to counterattack rather than hold poorly prepared defensive positions, and before long the Barghast were the ones digging in, harried on all sides.
The Barahn were the first to break. Witnessing the ensuing slaughter of their kin had solidified the resolve of the Ahkrata, and they held until midday, when Taur detached the Gilk from the drive into the city and sent the turtle-shell-armoured warriors to their aid. A plains clan whetted on interminable wars against mounted enemies, the Gilk locked horns with the Betrullid and became the fulcrum for a renewed offensive by the Ahkrata, shattering the Betaklites and seizing the pontoon bridges and barges. The last of the Pannion medium infantry were driven into the river's shallows, where the water turned red. Surviving elements of the Betrullid disengaged from the Gilk and retreated north along the coast to the marshlands — a fatal error, as their horses foundered in the salty mud. The Gilk pursued to resume a mauling that would not end until nightfall. Septarch Kulpath's reinforcements had been annihilated.
Humbrall Taur's push into the city triggered a panicked rout. Units of Seerdomin, Urdomen, Beklite, Scalandi and Betaklite were caught up and driven apart by the tens of thousands of Tenescowri fleeing before the Barghast hook-swords and lances. The main avenues became heaving masses of humanity, a swirling flood pushing westward, pouring through the breaches on that side, out onto the plain.
