‘It is nothing, little wyrm…’ Hrydor was at Tsu’gan’s shoulder as Emek examined him for injury. After releasing the pressure clasps, the Apothecary then carefully removed Tsu’gan’s helmet. Immediately, the unfiltered atmosphere washed in. Despite the years, the air still stank of ammonia and counterseptic. The sanitised aroma made Tsu’gan’s skin itch and he found himself yearning for the touch of fire. But there was no rod, no brander-priest’s iron to slake his masochistic urge.

‘What is “nothing”? Speak plainly, brother. You sound like a Dark Angel,’ Tsu’gan shot back venomously.

‘Hold still,’ said Emek, seizing Tsu’gan’s chin and shining a light in his eyes. They burned suddenly brighter. He reviewed the readings on his bio-scanner, logging the data for later analysis.

‘I am myself.’ Tsu’gan glared at the Apothecary, daring him to arrive at any other conclusion. The memory of Kadai’s face still lingered like an old dream in his subconscious though, and he wondered what had triggered it.

‘Physically, I can discern no adverse effects. Mentally, I cannot–’

‘Then release me.’ Tsu’gan jerked his chin away and took back his helmet.

Emek left with a parting remark. ‘Your demeanour certainly remains as amenable as usual.’

‘Are you sure you’re a warrior, Emek?’ Tsu’gan sneered, before ramming on his battle-helm. The pressure clamps cinched into place automatically as Tsu’gan went to Hrydor. ‘Now, explain yourself.’

The other Firedrake didn’t look intimidated. If anything, he was pensive. ‘The bulk and the strain of the great armour you wear – they are difficult burdens, little wyrm. It once belonged to Imaan. His aegis is woven into that of the suit.’

‘I know that. I was at the ritual. I stood before the proving-forge and crossed the gate of fire. I carry Imaan’s icon upon my flesh alongside many other honour scars, given unto me for the deeds I performed in battle. It’s the reason I am beside you now. I am Zek Tsu’gan, former brother-sergeant of Third Company and now Firedrake. I am not your little wyrm!’

Hrydor looked blankly at his battle-brother for a moment before laughing loudly.

‘I can handle the suit and the mission,’ Tsu’gan protested, earning a backwards glance from Praetor. It would be a few more minutes until they were done searching and securing the gallery. Then they could move on. Tsu’gan had that long to re-prepare himself. He lowered his tone in response to his sergeant’s scowl. ‘I saw… something. A relic of the past, nothing more. Old ship, old ghosts – that’s all it is.’