He wasn’t able to see the results of his labour, but there were a series of crunches followed by a very satisfying splash. When he was able to look again, Quasim was repeatedly punching the face of a Murker that was grappling him. Creatures of the Wild could not bear close proximity to their crystal armour and this Murker was no exception. It seemed to melt as much as fall away from the attacks of the Peridot Deathless. Meanwhile, his hunters were pinning down the Murkers that Vasin had floored in a cage of crisscrossing spears.

‘We have this tribute!’ shouted Quasim. ‘Find the other.’

You have this because of my intervention, thought Vasin bitterly. And I am the one leading the hunt, not you. But he did not voice these thoughts, instead nodding and flying on.

He soon spotted another torch nearby, which was good as Vasin would struggle to stay aloft much longer. He signalled for his hunters to follow and set off after the flickering light.

There was something alarming about the way the torch waved back and forth, as if the bearer was desperate, and the light seemed too low down. As Vasin sped closer he began to make out details: a young man waist deep in the swamp, face obscured by remnants of morning mist. In a moment of horror, he realized that the tribute had been caught and was being dragged under.

I’m too late.

But he swept down regardless, giving up the safety of the air in a last bid to reach them in time. He came down heavily, cutting two new channels through the wet mud as he skidded to a halt next to the young man.

One-handed, he plucked them from the earth. There was a moment of fierce resistance, then sudden movement. He half expected a monster to come with them, teeth locked around the tribute’s legs. He half expected only a torso to emerge, but no, with a wet kissing sound, the tribute came free, legs and all. Vasin raised them above his head, watching for signs of attack from below.

At his feet, the spines of something broke the surface, but not in aggression. The creature of the Wild that had captured the tribute was making for deeper water. Vasin kicked at it, but it was too fast, slipping away into the swamp.

‘Thank you!’ said the tribute breathlessly. ‘Oh thank you, I thought it was never going to let go.’

Vasin held him out at arms length, studying for injury. They were filthy, but aside from the long ritual cut on one cheek, he could see no red amid the filth, no broken skin. ‘Are you hurt?’

‘I …’ The tribute seemed to consider this as the first of Vasin’s Ruby hunters came in to land alongside them. ‘I don’t think so.’