She did not reply. I enjoyed that silence, despite everything. Minutes passed, the orks drawing ever closer.

‘What are they doing now?’ she asked.

I synced with Iwazar. The seer-skull had drifted closer. I could see the orks drawing in, but since Shard had doused the flames they had slowed, their beacon faded. They did not seem to be taking this well, exchanging grunts and snarls, sounds I would have once dismissed as the tongue of beasts. But from the way Iwazar was attempting to compile it, the seer-skull considered it a language of sorts, though one quite beyond its ability to translate.

‘They are close,’ I murmured. ‘They seem to be squabbling and have slowed to a crawl.’

‘How far are they from us?’

‘Less than two hundred yards.’

‘Can you see the Avenger?’

‘Yes.’

‘And have they?’

‘No. But the largest beast seems to be restoring order.’

The hulking greenskin on the foremost craft was bellowing at its followers, waving a brutal cleaver the length of my leg. The sounds would have been harsh upon a human ear, but Iwazar processed them in the same detached manner as it would the screams of the dying. There did seem to be repeated patterns and I wondered if a more sophisticated auditory processor would be able to decipher the ork tongue.

There appeared to be some disagreement between the creatures. An ork from an adjacent boat suddenly vaulted onto the lead craft, brandishing a pair of jagged blades that looked as though they might once have belonged to a Valkyrie’s turbofan. It snarled a challenge, and the lead ork bared its tusks in response. Or possibly it merely smiled; I am unsure whether the distinction is meaningful.

‘They seem to be fighting amongst themselves. Well, two of them.’

‘Pity the rest are not inclined to join in. Is one the leader?’

‘Probably. It’s bigger, and its armour has more skulls nailed to it.’

The two fighters circled one another, snapping exchanges in their crude tongue. The challenger suddenly lunged forward, knives bared like the claws of a mantis. The larger ork sidestepped the attack, bringing its cleaver around in a two-handed swing that could have pierced a battle tank. But the boats bobbed in the water, causing the challenger to half dive and half fall from the weapon’s path. It recovered quickly, unburdened by the heavy cleaver, and drove one of its knives into the larger greenskin’s thigh.

But the brute was unperturbed by the attack, twisting its body and dragging the still-embedded blade from the challenger’s hand. In the same movement, it brought the great cleaver down. The attempt to parry was futile, the force of the blow shattering the remaining knife and pulverising the beast holding it.

The larger ork dragged the knife from its leg, the blade now stained a deep red. It licked it clean, studying the weapon for a moment before tucking it into its belt.