The last tunnels were deserted. They saw no one, except for a pair of tech-priests, walking in the opposite direction with an entour­age of limp-faced and dead-eyed servitors stomping stiffly behind them, and a storeroom clerk who was working through a list of netted cargo resting on pallets. He had a stylus thrust behind his ear and a board in his hand, to which was clamped a set of Munitorum parchments. ‘No!’ he was shouting at a gang of ­labour corps dressed in dirty white overalls. ‘That is not acceptable!’

But he was the last person they saw until the light of day showed through the armoured doors standing wide open at the end of the tunnel. There was a platoon of Rakallion guards at the gateway. The warm breeze whipped at their greatcoats. They were a smart looking bunch. The men watched the Cadians with awe.

From the light that filtered down to them they could sense above ground that the afternoon was failing.

The order went out that they would wait here until sunset.

‘This is it,’ Baine said.

Minka nodded. She was too tense to speak. She could not fail this time, she told herself.

Two

TWO

Each Cadian prepared for battle in their own manner. One by one they started to camo up: dark stripes on cheeks and forehead, green and brown on the rest of the face, then texture to break up the smooth reflection of skin. Viktor cleaned his carbine. Asko rolled a lho-stick while Belus strutted up and down, trading banter with other troopers. Baine ate his rations then he got his cards out and started dealing hands for Lyrga, Orugi and Dreno.

Minka wanted to sleep, but the truth was her mind was too ­active. It would not settle. For some reason the memory of her first Whiteshield camp came to mind. She thought of Jaromir and how he had survived battle after battle when her cousin, who was top of his class, had lasted barely six months. Luck was an unsteady mistress. But each battle they put their lives in her fickle hands.

When they finally came out into open air they found themselves a mile north of the causeway, with an old service road winding along the clifftops ahead of them. There was a sea breeze blowing and fine rain being driven in the air.

The cliff was to their left while Tor Tartarus loomed in the distance. Evening was falling. The air had turned cool. They were marching along a narrow rockcrete pathway that ran along the cliff top. The Cadians moved quickly; there was a lot left to do. Ahead the sky was ablaze with smoke and fire as bombardments raked Tor Tartarus.