The second thing to break the surface was the Weeper’s crest. A hexagonal web of skin that stood proud from its neck on long, thin lines of bone. On the tip of each line was the head of a human child, wrinkled, hairless, and each head was stretched open in a scream, and each wept blood. The Weeper’s true head was only just emerging from the protective folds of its neck, like that of a tortoise, only without eyes, and a moist tube where the mouth should be.

Third came the Murkers. Where the cry of a Weeper caused people pain, it seemed to stir the Murkers into an ecstatic frenzy, emboldening them.

Vasin had one moment to take in the scene – his hunters, helpless. The tribute under his care, helpless. Murkers, too many to count, rushing in from all sides – and then he was moving.

Shifting his grip to the bottom of his spear, he swatted the first Murker away from his people, sending it spinning back the way it came. He took a step, swung again, dispatching another, then grabbed one that was trying to climb the rock to get to the tribute. The touch of his gauntlet immediately set its flesh to hissing as he hurled it at the Weeper.

The great demon turned its back, protecting its delicate crest and the Murker bounced off, falling into the swamp, only to rise again moments later.

All the while, the Weeper continued its dirge, rooting his hunters to the spot. Blood was beginning to leak from their ears now, calling to anything of the Wild not already aware of their presence. Soon, they would begin to cry blood like the heads on the Weeper’s crest, and then he would have only moments before the pressure would build inside, and the blood would start to leak from their skin.

Vasin moved as fast as he could, but there were too many Murkers to handle alone, and too many targets to protect. He fought desperately as first one, then another hunter vanished from sight, dragged under by the Murkers.

Despite his efforts, he was losing. He could not fight them all at once. Out of the corner of his eye he saw red tears on the cheeks of a nearby hunter and knew he was almost out of time.

As he lifted another Murker over his head, it occurred to him that he alone was fighting, and if the demons pooled their strength he would be swiftly overcome. But they didn’t. They were so busy attacking the Ruby hunters that he was left free to do as he wished.

This makes no sense.

A cry from above made him look up. Lord Lakshin Opal had finally arrived, sending his hunters down to aid them.

‘No!’ shouted Vasin. ‘No, you fool! Call them back!’