One reached for him with claw-like hands, nails long and sharp. Hunger burned in its eyes. It opened its mouth. No words emerged, only a hissing like a broken bellows. A draft of stinking air hit Sardec in the face, so corrupt that it made his stomach churn.

He slashed at the clutching hand with his hook, severing fingers, then placed his pistol against the thing’s chest and pulled the trigger. The force of the shot tumbled the revenant backwards. Sardec thrust his boot down on its throat, pinning it in place and shouted for one of the Foragers to smash the creature’s skull.

Ugly pock-marked little Toadface rushed forward and brought down his musket butt on the revenant’s head. An eye rolled from its socket, bits of brain oozing out. Toadface struck again and again, reducing the skull to mush. Still the thing kept moving. Sardec removed his boot. At least now it could not see, and had not even its previous rudimentary intelligence to guide it. Experience had shown that in a few minutes or hours it would lose all animation.

Flame erupted nearby. A wave of heat and the stink of burning flesh washed over Sardec. He looked around and found himself face to face with the cowled Terrarch he had seen earlier. The Inquisitor’s white robes were soiled with filth. Black blood and gobbets of flesh besmirched his gold mask. Flames danced around his hands. Looking closely Sardec could see they emerged from ancient jewelled gauntlets.

“Well met, Lieutenant,” the Inquisitor said in a voice that was rich and surprisingly good-humoured. “Your arrival is timely.”

As he spoke, he lunged forward, passing Sardec’s shoulder. A burst of heat told Sardec that the Inquisitor had dealt with a foe creeping up behind him. He returned the favour by grappling with the creature that made a grab for the newcomer. He had no sooner brought the creature down than the flame engulfed it. Sardec let go quickly, fearing to be burned. Somehow the flame did not singe him although he felt its heat.

The soldiers finished with blade and club. They looked as if they had been working in a slaughterhouse but they were victorious. A strange quiet fell over the street as the last of the undead went down. All eyes focused on the Inquisitor and his black garbed retinue.

“Things are as bad here as I was told,” said the Inquisitor. “The Shadow lies heavy on this place.”

“You’ll get no argument from me, sir,” said Sardec.

“My brethren and I are grateful to you for your assistance. The Light smiles on our mission.”

“I am glad we could help,” said Sardec.

“I am High Inquisitor Joran.”

“Sardec, Lieutenant, the Queen’s Seventh Infantry.”

The gold mask inclined itself forward.