I stood on a Rocky hillock overlooking the Burning plains, hand shading my eyes.

The dusty hills of the plains rolled out for miles in every direction. Sparse shrubs and tufts of dry grass were the only foliage visible. The Kadian Army had officially crossed into the Southern lands.

“It’s larger than I thought it would be,” I said. “So much open space.”

“Wait until you see the frozen wastes,” said Gills. He shrugged his shoulders, adjusting the fit of his new pouldrons.

“Let’s hope we never have to,” said Draxus. “The monsters of the wastes are notoriously vicious.”

“This is true,” Bjorn leaned on his axe, gazing out across the plains. “But adversity makes a man strong, and strength is a-“

“If I have to hear one more time about the virtue of fucking strength,” said Kato. “I will end you.”

Bjorn lapsed into moody silence. The heat, it seemed, was putting us all a bit on edge. It had been relentless since we had left the cover of the swamp. Still, I was glad to be rid of the endless flies and mosquitoes.

The sun climbed its way down the sky, heating the cracked earth. In the distance, a dust cloud swirled.

“You think that dust cloud has any chance of turning into a sandstorm?” I asked, gesturing with my chin. Gills glanced around and squinted. Then he frowned.

“I don’t think dust clouds run linearly,” he said.

“Shit.”

Draxus grabbed me by the shoulder, pulling me to the ground. Beside me, Gills did the same to Kato. Bjorn crouches, gripping the shaft of his axe between two scarred hands.

“It’s an Ork scouting party, he said.”

“They shouldn't have made it this far inland yet,” whispered Gills. “The reports say-“

“Fuck the reports,” hissed Kato. “Those are Ork Outriders right in front of our eyes. At least of Dozen of them."

Sure enough, the dust was only half a mile away now and I could see the outline of bulky armored figures riding red armored beasts. The beasts themselves had thick legs scaly legs and tails that ended in wicked-looking barbs.

“What are they,” I breathed. Turning to look at Gills. His face was grim.

“Sand Drakes,” he said. “If the Outriders are here that means that the host isn’t far off. Maybe a few days at most."

This was grim news. The reports of the Ork movement had pinpointed the location of the Host at least several weeks out. The reality appeared far less optimistic.

“This is why I hate scouting,” muttered Kato. "Always bad news."

“We need to send a messenger back to Lord Blackthorne,” I said. “We’re going to have to march double time if we want to make it to Ceris before the Host arrives.”

Gills grimaced.

“I don’t like the idea of trying to outrun thousands of bloodthirsty Orks, but I don’t see a choice. If the Outriders have made it this far that means the outposts have fallen.”

He didn't finish his throught but by the looks we shared I knew he was thinking the same thing. If the outpost's had fallen, then Ceris was the only thing standing between the Southern Lands and the Ork Host.

“They’re slowing down,” said Kato. “Look.”

The patrol of outriders had reigned in their mounts and I watched as their leader made some kind of signal.

“You think they saw us?” Asked Draxus, worried.

Gills shook his head.

“At night maybe, but their eyesight isn’t as strong in the day. No, It looks like they’ve spotted something to the SouthEast.

The Leader of the Outriders was bigger than the rest. He swung his horned head and and wheeled his beast around with a vicious tug on the reigns. The rest of the Outriders followed and I could hear the distant rumble of their language. I didn’t understand the words but I could guess the meaning.

“Refugees,” I whispered, pointing to a small copse of shrubs in the distance. Horror was reflected in Gills's face as he followed my hand. A small group of humans burst out of hiding and began to run. Like hounds scenting prey, the Orks followed after.

“No,” I whispered as one of the women fell, sprawling in the dust. A man in ragged clothes turned and, upon seeing her, he changed direction. He dashed back to her holding out his hand to her. She got to her feet and the two of them turned to run. It was too late.

The first Ork decapitated the man in a single swipe of a long and jagged sword. As the head fell in the dust, the woman screamed. One of the Orks reached down from his mount and plucked her off the ground as if she weighed nothing.

He tossed her to one of the others and the brute gripped her by the arms, lifting her. Her feet dangled and kicked in empty air. One of the men still running turned back at the sound of her screams. It was a mistake.

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A rider bore down on him in a cloud of dust.

The Ork grabbed the man by the neck and, with terrifying strength, he yanked. With a horrible sound, I would never forget as long as I lived, the man’s spine separated from his body. The empty husk of meat slid lifelessly to the ground. in a spray of blood and viscera.

My stomach churned with a mixture of fear and anger. Jaw clenched I gripped the hilt of my sword, but Draxus caught my hand.

“We have no chance,” he said. “If we intervene now we not only give away the strategic position of the Army but we end up as slaves, or worse.”

I ground my teeth but I couldn’t find the fault in his logic. My knee-jerk reaction was to save these people for their fate, but I knew that Orks weren’t mindless like Goblins. Upon seeing soldiers they would kill everyone, even those they now tied to the back of their saddles as prisoners.

Three men and one woman.

“They’ll be made to work hard labor,” said Gills, grimly. “But they’ll live. That means we might have a chance, however slim, of rescuing them in the future.”

“I wouldn’t count on it.”

Draxus slid backward down the hill on his stomach.

“The Lord Governor of Ceris isn’t known as a man who takes risks on the field of battle. In fact, he doesn’t take to the field of battle at all.”

I tore my eyes away from the slaughter and began crawling after him, away from the lip of the hillock.

“Doesn’t Lord Blackthorne outrank him?” I asked.

Draxus grimaced.

“Yes. And the Lord Governor will like him even less for it.”

We stayed low as we darted back towards the small camp to join my men. Hade was standing watch and hailed us as we approached.

“Pack up,” I said. “Get the men ready to march.”

“Moving out so soon Ser William?” asked the soldier, puzzled. “But the lads just got a fire going. We were planning on cooking up a few sausages just to…”

His voice faded when he saw the look on my face.

“Orks,” I said in way of explanation. “A patrol of Outriders. Unless you have designs on watering the ground with your blood I suggest we prepare to move in ten minutes.”

“Right you are Ser.” Said the soldier hastily, and he turned to begun calling orders.

It had been the right decision to promote him to Sergeant. I saw how the rest of the men respected him, and despite his general inexperience, he had proved himself both steady and reliable.

If I was to grow my squad, I would need more men like him.

Our march back towards camp was only a few hours long, though it felt like more under the heat of the sun. The baked earth absorbed the warmth and reflected it back, making the temperature just about scorching.

I sensed the relief in my men the second the camp came into view.

The patrol on active watch intercepted us as we reached the bottom of a hill.

“Ser William,” said their leader, and I recognized him as the Sentry several nights before. “It’s good to see you again.”

“And you,” I said. “Though I wish I brought better news. I’m to see Lord Blackthorne.” I pulled the folded parchment out of my breast pocket and held it up so that the wax seal was visible. The Sentry’s eyes widened and he nodded.

“Understood. We won’t get in your way.”

I ordered Hade and the men to make camp with the 3rd. They would need food in their stomachs if the army were to march out.

Gills and I made our way to where Lord Blackthorne's banner flapped in the warm wind.

Two household guards stood at the entrance and one of them gave me a nod of recognition.

They stepped aside and I ducked into the tent. Lord Blackthorne glanced up from the parchment he had been writing on, quill half raised above the paper.

At the urgency in our expressions, he set it back in the Inkwell and sat forward.

“Gentlemen,” he said. “What news? Did you make contact with the outpost?”

“I’m afraid we didn’t make it that far my Lord,” said Gills. “We spotted Ork outriders a mile to the south of our position. A dozen of them, by my count.”

Blackthrone went still, his face going momentarily blank. Several seconds passed before he pushed back his chair and rose.

“Show me,” he said briskly.

The veteran bowed his head and strode to the war table. The maps were old parchment, yellow and curled at the edges. Gills examined the camp marker carefully and then placed a finger on the page.

“Our scouting party was camped around here, Lord. We sighted the Patrol between here,” he slid his finger further south and tapped. “And here.”

Blackthorne blew a breath through his nose and closed his eyes briefly.

“So the outposts are already lost,” he said softly.

Gills hesitated for a moment his hands twisting in his tunic. The Lord’s brows drew together.

“Speak plainly, soldier.” He said.

Gills licked his lips.

“My Lord, there appeared to be a small group of refugees fleeing the Host. By the state of their clothing, I would guess that they were villagers along the southern front. Some were killed and others taken as slaves.”

Blackthorne made a sound of disgust.

“A barbaric practice,” he said. “The Orks grew bold years ago, we should have marched south and crushed the tribes before they had a chance to unite.”

He dropped back into his chair, rubbing at his temples.

“I will order the men to move,” he said. “They won’t like it but we have little choice. It is now absolutely paramount that we reach Ceris in two days' time.”

Gills bowed at the waist.

“As you command, Lord.”

Gills turned and strode for the exit of the tent but I stayed where I was. The veteran hesitated then nodded to me before exiting. Blackthorne arched an eyebrow in question.

“I wish to ask something of you, my Lord,” I said.

Blackthorne steepled his fingers and nodded for me to continue. I hesitated for a moment, but in the end, I knew that if I didn’t ask, it would haunt me.

“The prisoner,” I said. “The Lady Inquisitor intends to see her burn?”

Blackthorne gave me an appraising look.

“I would expect so,” he said. “However I may disagree with the Inquisitions methods, it remains their Throne given right to deal with heretics how they see fit. There will be a trial for her once we get to Ceris. Beyond that, I cannot say.”

“But is there nothing you can do?” I asked, my voice more accusatory that I intended. I bit back the rest of my remark before I said something I would regret.

Blackthorne showed no sign of offense. Instead, he studied his hands, thinking.

“You know little of politics,” he said. “But I will place you in my shoes, as it were. The Crowned Prince named me Spear of the King. A frivolous title, and yet one that holds weight. Before my untimely promotion, I was but a minor Lord of an Eastern castle. Some would argue there are more qualified men who should have inherited the title. And more powerful men than I. The Duke of North, for example.”

He leaned forward, elbows resting on his desk.

“The news of my promotion angered many of the nobility. Including, I suspect, the Count of Basset. He was the last to hold this title, after all.”

“That’s why he didn’t come to your aid?” I asked, surprised. “He holds a grudge against you.”

The Lord shrugged.

“Perhaps. Though it was through your efforts that his son rode to our aid. For that, Ser William, I am infinitely grateful. Alas, I have gained many enemies over a decision I dare not refuse. My position is precarious, and to defy the Inquisition and make an enemy of the Archon would be a foolish decision.”

Grudgingly I nodded my understanding. I could understand Lord Blackthorne’s position, even If I didn’t like the outcome. Still, the idea left a bad taste in my mouth. If this woman, this Witch, really was an outworlder then that meant she was from Earth.

The idea of simply allowing her to burn her alive was hard to swallow.

“My Lord,” I said stiffly. “Do I have your leave to go?”

Blackthorne looked almost regretful.

“Of course,” he said, I bowed and turned on my heel. As I exited the tent I thought I heard him murmur something.

“Just like him,” he said, wistfully.