‘Sir, you’re needed.’

  Arit sighed as he rose from his bunk, then turned to face the guardsman who’d poked his head in the tent. This wouldn’t be forever, he told himself; in a matter of weeks—if that—the ritual would be complete. He would exist in a new world, and he would exist as a god. The locals would wait on him hand and foot. He wouldn’t have to face battle, he wouldn’t have to lead armies, and he certainly would not be woken in the middle of the night.

  But that was soon, and this was now; there was a job to be done.

  ‘Yes?’ Arit asked. ‘What news?’

  ‘I… I dunno, sir. There’s a scout waiting for you—’

  Arit pushed passed the guardsman the moment he realised that the soldier was of no more use. The young lad followed him back outside the tent, past the two armed soldiers of corruption positioned at the tent flap, flinching as he passed them. Arit was hardly thrilled to be in their presence, but they were a tool, and if one is to get the most value out of a tool, they must not fear it. Did Athena fear the bow? Did Elecon fear the insidious weapon that pushed the Ascended World to its end? These monstrosities would be destroyed with this world, and Arit would have to contend with them no longer once the ritual was complete.

  A matter of weeks, he told himself again.

  ‘The scout,’ Arit said to the guardsman. ‘Where?’

  The lad pointed across the camp to the west, to a woman on horseback, a deep wound in the brown beast’s side. The horse would need Healing, and soon, if it was going to survive.

  ‘A healer,’ Arit told the lad, and off the guardsman ran to carry out his order. The worldbender spared little thought for the wellbeing of beasts, particularly those who would die with the world anyway, but that was no reason to waste a perfectly good tool.

  Arit closed the distance between himself and the scout using a portal, arriving at the mounted woman’s side in a flash.

  ‘The news?’ he demanded.

  ‘Trouble to the west,’ the scout replied. ‘More elderbeests.’

  Arit nodded; this wasn’t the first time they’d encountered these creatures since he had taken over control of the malae. There was something about those monsters of corruption that drew enemies in. Beings of nature, particularly those touched by Witchcraft emerged from the dark depths of their homes, lured by the presence of the malae—particularly when there were so many malae in one place. They’d had trouble in Tradum, but that had been an easily defensible city. Now that they were making a new camp each night, with no real knowledge of the surroundings, they were vulnerable. Arit hadn’t expected so many obstacles.

  ‘Heading this way?’ he asked, though he knew the answer; the scout wouldn’t trouble him if they weren’t.

  Still, the mounted woman nodded. ‘Six of them.’

  Six. Usually six enemies would not be worth the effort of even noting them; the soldiers of corruption would throw six humans aside no problem. But six elderbeests were a different matter. These creatures were never truly formed in the creation of this world, their power diverted into Hephaestus’s artifacts when he betrayed the rest of the Architects. It was salt in the wound; Tana’s intelligence said that the team who hunted him possessed one of these very artifacts. That Hephaestus would, however unintentionally, have caused his problems on two fronts…

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  Arit shook his head; there was no reason to think about it, not when there were other priorities.

  ‘Order the camp to depart within the hour,’ Arit told the scout. ‘Send a third of the soldiers of corruption west to meet the enemy. The others should join the untouched in defending the caravan. The malae are all that matter, you understand?’

  The scout saluted Arit. ‘In Yusef’s name.’

  Arit nodded back, swallowing his pride for a second. He hated that he’d needed to weaponise Yusef’s legacy; the loss of that arrogant ex-Council member was no tragedy, in his eyes. They were better off without him. But his name did prove useful—nothing drove the locals of this world to such loyalty than the work Yusef had done. Though, it was unravelling fast. That fool had exposed the truth of himself—exposed them all—in his dying breaths. It was only a matter of time before his legacy was eradicated by truth. But all Arit needed was a couple of weeks.

  The worldbender turned back towards his tent, but felt the scout’s eyes bearing into him. He returned the stare.

  ‘Sir?’ she asked. ‘Are you not riding with them? They could do with your support.’

  Arit bit his tongue. He let everything that he wanted to say pass through his mind unsaid. He didn’t say that he wouldn’t waste his time on fighting animals. He didn’t say that he wouldn’t risk his life unnecessarily, not when the Council were so close. Arit couldn’t risk his grip on Amira’s soldiers growing any looser than it already was. So instead, he nodded, and he turned west.

  * * *

  When the soldiers of corruption spoke, Arit heard screams. They were not screaming, of course. These monstrosities were not capable of the emotions that would urge them to scream; Tana had seen to that when she’d instructed the learned librarians of the Estat Order to build on the tiefling’s research. But still, Arit heard the screams. Was it in his mind, simply the echoes of the screams he’d heard during the corruption process? Or was it there, beneath the surface, almost imperceptible to the human ear—the screams of the soul still trapped inside these emotionless husks?

  ‘What are our orders?’ the corrupted soldier asked. No judgement, no secondary meaning to the question, just simply that—a question. Yet those hints of screams gave Arit pause.

  ‘Send two out. Lure the beests to us. We hold our ground here.’ The Player finished his instructions, and the monstrosity nodded, passing the orders down the line. Arit watched as two of the soldiers ran out into the treeline, passing out of the moonlight and into the shadows. They ran faster than even the strongest of men. If these creatures weren’t fully under the Council’s control, they might well have posed problems even to Players, especially with their far greater numbers. But Arit had sensed no sign of dissent among them. The growing disillusionment was left strictly to Amira’s soldiers—those who were still untouched. Perhaps Arit would have to corrupt yet more men, both to keep them unquestioning and to hold as a threat over those who would abandon the cause. He still had the tools to do so. They were loaded on the carts. They were the very thing that had this army heading north, to make delivery to Auricia.

  The monstrosities held the line unflinching, unwavering, unbreathing, as they awaited the return of their colleagues—and the elderbeests that would be chasing them. Arit had no doubt that they would be successful in luring the creatures in. If the darkest creatures of this land were drawn to the malae, drawn to corruption, then that would surely apply to these disgusting soldiers, too. It was only a matter of time.

  The snow began to fall once more, again dusting the ground with little more than half an inch. Arit held his coat tight, his eyes drifting to the soldiers with their grey skin exposed to the elements, paying no attention to the flakes landing upon them. He envied them, but something as insignificant as resistance to the cold was not going to convince him to get corrupted any time soon.

  He felt the elderbeests before he saw them. Before he even heard them. The great, lumbering beasts from another time were large enough to shake the very ground beneath Arit’s feet, especially when charging in such a number.

  ‘Soldiers…’ the worldbender shouted, holding his order for a beat, until the first pair of antlers burst forth from the trees, ‘...attack!’