“It’s been a hard winter and there’s no end of famine and plague.”

“We’ve had hard winters before,” said the Barbarian. “Somehow the dead always managed to stay where we planted them.”

“They’ve not stayed down since the night Queen Kathea died,” said Weasel.

“Maybe we are accursed for that,” said the Barbarian. Sardec knew that the risen dead had nothing to do with any curse brought on by the murder of royalty. It had begun with Jaderac’s ritual to raise the dead and use them as an army against the Taloreans. It had continued with the plague winds that had blown out of the East since the start of spring.

“Right, lads,” he said. “Fix bayonets. Remember, knock the deaders down and crush their skulls, chop them limb from limb if you have to. Don’t let them bite you either.”

Almost immediately he wished he had not said that. It was a reminder that these unclean things spread plague, and it made the men nervous.

“What the hell…” The Barbarian shouted. The central Terrarch in the group under attack, white robed, head covered in a tall cowl, face masked in gold, had raised his hands. Flames licked around them, and yet the Terrarch was not consumed. His garments did not ignite. He reached out and touched the nearest animated corpse. Flames surrounded it, flickering a mixture of black and red and gold. The corpse tumbled backwards, limbs twitching, the blaze consuming it with mystical quickness. It shrivelled, blackened, turned to ash and began to flake away.

“The cleansing flame,” Sardec said, knowing only one type of Terrarch who could wield that power. “Forward, lads. Let’s not let the Inquisitor take all the glory.” That got the Foragers moving. None of them wanted to get on the bad side of an Inquisitor. For centuries the title had been a byword for terror among the humans.

They raced forward, bayonets fixed. The streets echoed with their battle cries as they hacked through the walking corpses.

Sardec flinched when he got to grips with the undead things. Their skin was grey and puffy, peeling away to reveal bone and tendon beneath. Strange witch-fires burned in their eyes. Maggots writhed in their rotting cheeks. Yellow teeth grinned from lipless mouths. Some wore tattered grave clothes, as ragged as their flesh. Others were naked. There were women and children. At least none of the deaders were Terrarchs. So far the plague of revenants appeared only to affect humans.

The creatures were slow but they were strong and they felt no pain.