Qek swarmed over ash and ruins like maggots on a corpse, as pillars of smoke crept skyward against the backdrop of the rising sun. On the border of what had once been a village stood three figures in hooded black robes. A half dozen Pale Qek, whose presence dissuaded the smaller breed from acting on their natural inclination to attack the humans flanked the trio on either side.

  “They’ve killed too many.” a male voice, low and gravelly, emanated from one. “We need them alive. We can’t use corpses.”

  “It’s not bad as test runs go.” A female voice argued.

  “Not bad?” the first voice scoffed, his tone incredulous. “Qek are brutes, even with the modified leading them, casualties are- “

  “Enough,” said the last member of the trio, his tone harsh. “Enough,” he said again, softer. “You are correct. We have no use for a pile of corpses.”

  “Sir-” The woman spoke, but the central figure held up his hand and she fell silent.

  “I am not disparaging your work, Serra. These infused specimens are ingenious.” He gestured to the nearest of the Pale Qek. “You’ve given us a marvelous tool. It is not your fault that we have applied it poorly.” He said, turning his gaze on the burnt husk that had once been a small village. Corpses, charred and maimed, littered the central street.

  “Sir, it was her beasts that cost us-” started the other man, only to be cut off by a sharp gesture.

  “To get the qek to go against their nature, I would have believed impossible, and yet.” He held his hands aloft as dozens upon dozens of the small beast-men moved around them. “You must give Serra her due, Lionel. She did exactly that.”

  “Sir,” Serra said. “I think I can improve them, maybe even streamline the creation process.” but at this, it seemed Lionel had had enough.

  “The creation of your puppets takes up valuable resources, and at your first opportunity to recoup that cost, they instead waste even more and now you demand an even greater investment?” Serra didn’t so much as look in Lionel's direction during his tirade. Her gaze focused on the man between them.

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  “Serra, if you can improve them, then you have my blessing. Lionel, I think it’s time we moved ahead with your project as well. You can start with what we’ve collected here. It was not a total waste.” All three turned their gaze to a small cluster of surviving villagers, chained together and guarded by more of the large, pale qek, who snarled menacingly at any of the smaller ones that drew close.

  “Thank you, sir.” Lionel said, with a quick bow. “I promise you will not be disappointed.”

  “Of course I won’t. No cause in this pitiless universe is more justified than ours, and there are no truer believers than we. You both know what’s at stake and why we can’t fail.” He made this last as a grand pronouncement, his hands aloft and his head tilted upward so that his hood fell back, revealing his bald head, ashy pale skin and blue eyes that seemed to glow in their sockets.

  The effect was spoiled when a young man clothed in gray robes popped into existence a few feet away, looking wild-eyed. “High Priest, sir.” He rushed toward them, stopping just in front, and bowing his respect to all three.

  “What is it, Gratius?” The bald man asked, his cordial tone vanished and his expression stony, and for once Serra and Lionel were united in their pity for the young man who had accidentally stepped on the High Priest’s moment.

  “I’m sorry, High Priest. It’s just that one of Priestess Serra’s creations has been killed, sir, by mages.”

  “Impossible.” Lionel scoffed, “We’ve been tracking Burke’s Wardens since they crossed The Gap. They’re hundreds of miles from here.”

  “Not Wardens,” Glatius said, “New Borns, from the-”

  “Impossible.” Now it was Serra’s turn to scoff. “New Borns killing my superior breed?”

  “It’s true Priestess, they killed it and wounded two others. Protecting a village.” Neither Serra nor Lionel had anything to say to that, and they left Gratius to stand there as his superiors glowered at him with displeasure.

  “Which village?” The High Priest asked at last, the glow of his eyes like cold flames.

  “Forty miles north-east of here, sir.”

  “When?” Serra demanded, practically snarling.

  “Y-y-yesterday,” he stammered nervously. "They have regrouped and are preparing for an assault on the village.”

  “We should call them off,” Lionel advised, turning his attention from Gratius to the High Priest. “We’ve already observed that letting qek loose on a village does not serve our ends, and if there are mages capable of killing Serra’s Breed, then all the worse.”

  “No,” The High Priest said, still glaring at Gratius as if he had personally killed the qek and thwarted their attack. “Let’s see how your creations fare against these New Borns, Serra. Perhaps I have been too quick to praise.”