The Maw was brissling with two parallel perimeters of sharpened stakes, and four field cannons that capped off the end of the killzone, its steely barrels gleaming in the afternoon sun, all prepared to erupt in light and sound in two hours from now.

The plan was to attack while there was still light, while all those chitinous creatures were amassed in the confines of cramped, narrow tunnels with nowhere to escape. The perfect environment for spider fire. All or most of the insectoids should perish in the unforgiving blaze, though if any were to escape the burn then their lead and arrows shall greet them at the Maw. There was to be no survivors. No mercy.

Her bayonet sang against the whetstone as its blunted edge got smoothed away. It easily drew blood when she lightly pressed her thumb on the edge. She winced when she tested the blade of her axe, retracting her hand as though the axehead snapped at her like a rabid dog.

I think you’re sharp enough now.

Her blunderbuss was already packed and stuffed with a shot so she stood up and stretched, shaking off the stiffness from sitting in one position for so long. Pyrik looked around the killzone, searching for anything to do. Her body resisted the urge to stay idle because it was filled with nervous energy. To ensure that the insectoid nest burned totally and effectively, a handful of them had to carry spider fire as far into the nest as possible. Nobody had forced her to volunteer, Pyrik could have simply sat back and allowed Hospitallers to venture into those dark arteries. When she stared into the pitch black Maw, she felt her vision spiral and narrow and her breath hitched in her chest as the Maw constricted, cinching like a noose around her neck. Pyrik hunted in forests, in places where the open sky was a tilt of her head away. And the monsters she faced were usually singular of a handful at most. Down in that nest resided hundreds, if not more, squeezed into a tight space. If things were to get desperate, the voice inside could get out…

Despite that though, Pyrik knew she was one of the only people who was likely to emerge from the nest alive. She thrived in battles that brought her intimately close to the enemy, where her axe and bayonet were guaranteed to find those soft vital spots. And oh that spray of blood when she struck true. That magnificient crunch of a skull. There was no other finer candidate than her.

Of course Pyrik would not enter the nest alone. Menov, Cutter and a few more Hospitallers would join as well to plunge those depths. A lot of spider fire had to be carried in for the plan to work. But that was until later, in two hours time.

Pyrik looked for something to occupy herself with, yet there was nothing to do. The arachne had brought and prepared all their arrows. The spider fire was all made and stockpiled at the pit. Hospitallers, finished with setting up the killzone and used to pre-battle jitters, relaxed in the shade of those giant white trees, taking naps, idly chatting about some onesense or another. Menov had a leaf pressed against her lips and it made a brassy sound when she blew into it. Ira quickly tried to imitate but the leaf was blown away from her fingers, and Menov fell over laughing.

“Pyrik, Pyrik! Would you like to try?” Ira offered a leaf.

Pyrik declined. “I’d rather look for something to do.”

“Cutter is at that forest line if you’re begging for busy work,” Menov said, having finally collected herself from her pleasant fit.

The forest line… Oh.

Cutter was under the reprieve of a tree, drinking from his canteen when Pyrik found him. The bandage around his forehead was gone, revealing a grizzly gash at the side that was puckered shut with stitches. He did not notice her approach, his attention was cast out to where his men were stripping and piling his fallen comrades into a wagon for the pyre.

A branch snapped under her boot.

Cutter turned, looking somber, though he quickly composed and straightened himself. “Oh hello, Pyrik. Am I needed at the village? My men did not do anything reprehensible, did they?”

“No, no. Nothing like that. In fact I saw an arachne try to teach one of your men how to use a bow,” said Pyrik.

“Then what brings you here?”

I just came to see if you needed help with anything.”

Cutter shook his head. “No, we’re about done here. But thanks though.”

One Hospitaller pushed the back of the wagon while another pulled from the front, getting the wheels turning toward the rotten wheat field. Pyrik swallowed, feeling the same loss that had to have stricken the captain. And she could not help but feel responsible, like a fateful spark that jumped onto kindling, catching fire, leading to violence. Then again, those men did not have to follow Haldane. They were free after all. Autonomous over their own fates. Or perhaps they felt as though they had no choice. That capturing and experimenting on her was the only way through this forest. Pyrik let out a long sigh.

“At the Arklay mountains,” Cutter said unprompted, “there was an attempt to capture an objective at Hadley’s Peak, a stronghold crucial for the campaign because of its numerous routes into the range, making them ideal supply lines. Our company was attached to that army battalion due for the assault. Stronger beasts tended to live farther up in the range, so nobody anticipated much heavy resistance. Asides from the few rockjaws that came crawling out from their caves, resistance was light to none. Almost comically so. The stronghold was captured within two days.

“The stronghold was in an appalling state of disrepair so we set about restoring the place.” Cutter chuckled, looking embittered at a memory. “Haldane lamented at the lack of action, that asides from those rockjaws there was nothing else on this peak.” He shrugged, took a swig from his canteen. “He couldn’t have known. None of us could have predicted that night, when the storm came to ravage the peak with whipping winds and fat drops of rain. When the rockslide came to block off the mountain pass, none saw it as an omen. Potash just moaned at the prospect of having our rations getting slashed in half. That was when the first afflicted burst into the dining hall, this wretched soldier whose skin… sloughed off like candle wax, revealing this rock-like carapace underneath.

“Those who escaped the slaughter in the dining hall found themselves in a flesh mill outside. The afflicted were impossible to kill, near impervious to steel and shots, simply glancing off its rocky carapace. I don’t know how we survived, just that Potash, Haldane and I fought our way to the keep, the most fortified area of the stronghold. We haphazardly threw together a barricade and prayed that it held. There were so many outside banging at that old gate.

“I remembered feeling so helpless, so powerless. And that keep was no sanctuary either. Among the many that managed to scramble in with us were those that got afflicted along the way. Their skin was starting to sag, to slough. Many wanted them dead, and I remembered them begging for death too. Potash and I had our blades in hand, ready to oblige their requests… but Haldane argued against it. He wanted to use them, allow this unnatural corruption to follow its course so he could understand its vulnerabilities, find a weakness.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Pyrik finally asked.

“I want you to know that Haldane would have done anything… and I mean anything for our brothers.” He tapped the gash on the side of his head. “When I was in the clutches of insectoids, he instinctively jumped in to rescue me. And so would I if it were him. But the thread starts to fray at our tolerance for barbarism. I would not go as far as human experiments, not again. I am not asking you to forgive Haldane or his conspirators for their actions, simply understand why. Fear and powerlessness can severely warp men to do monstrous things.”

Pyrik turned over the words again. Monstrous things.

“All that cloak-and-dagger nonsense, was it all to get me to investigate him?”

“I couldn’t outright accuse another brother, not without proof.”

“And Menov?”

“She was a new addition to the company after its devastating depletion at Hadley’s Peak. I found her quite trustworthy so I asked her to gain Haldane’s trust and keep an eye on him.”

“There’s… nothing more about her?”

Cutter scrunched his brow, confused.

“Nevermind,” said Pyrik.

Cutter capped his canteen. “Let’s head back now.”