We headed back south far more quickly than we'd come north.

"How's the ride?" I called, earning some harsh curses in response from the others. Somewhere, about fifty miles behind us, were two thousand freshly trained nomad cavalry following us to the muster point.

"I'm glad we got cushions!" Fay grumbled.

"I will endeavour to make the journey smoother, mistress," said her golem. Fay's creation was a fluid, curvy construct whose feminine appearance and voice had turned far more heads as we passed back through Mondit than any of the others. We'd left Sulk and the crafters with some final instructions. Still, the supply of armour and arrowheads exceeded my expectations, courtesy of the centuries of experience the Huskar had brought to bear on our operation.

Fay glared up at the brass face. Two pale blue eyes glanced down, and the machine shifted its grip slightly and hunched its legs. Fay was wrapped in fur and perched in the machine's arms atop an elaborate embroidered cushion. The mad dash sprint seemed to smooth out for her, so she didn't say anything else.

"Carried like a sack of bloody tubers!" complained Kril. "I'm not vegetables, you stupid lump!" he smacked a fist against the chest of his own golem, which wisely chose to ignore his antics. The golems were capable of learning in ways that would have terrified the engineers working on AI back on Earth.

"Only another day to go! We've made good time!" I yelled over the wind as Wilson bounded forward with me perched on his shoulders. The others were all being carried by their unsleeping companions, metal legs blurring across the steppe. The wolf and I didn't need to sleep so much anymore.

"Not even that long!" Kril corrected. "We'll be back at Hellath before the sun sets!"

The old shaman wasn't far off the mark. The sky was still faintly lit, and not all of the stars had come out as we approached the city that had sprung up around the nomad holy place.

From my eyes up above, it looked like a crude fortress had been thrown up around the artificial hill. Nomad camps with crude palisades were spread around a central Huskar fort with giant-scaled wooden walls and towers set at the foot of the stairs up Hellath. A smaller fortress, more of a guardpost with walls and a single tower, had been built around the entrance to the Source.

Small groups of cavalry repeatedly approached us, fleeing as soon as they made out the metallic limbs of my companions' mounts. Soon enough, a much larger force was dispatched as the runners made it back to the main base. Half a legion mobilised and met us three miles from the outlying nomad camps. The Huskar were in full armour, and they had mounted archers guarding their flanks.

I slipped off Wilson as the others slowed to a stop, then I walked forward alone.

"Mond!" hissed Kos. I waved a hand to tell them to stay back.

"I'm Mond! Back from the north sooner than planned!" I called out, and a single Huskar tramped forward, leaving deep impressions in the soft ground due to the weight of his armour.

"Legate. What in the Maker's name are those things?" He waved at the golems. My own, with spider legs and tentacles, had advanced ahead of the others, and the mismatched eyes on its head were twitching between the Huskar and me.

"Constructs. A blessing from Mars," I replied. "I want us to be ready to march south against Urkash tomorrow." The Tribune waved backwards at the other troops, and the legion troopers visibly relaxed. The nomads did not. I strode towards them and raised my voice to order them to stand down.

"OI! THIS IS THE WARLORD'S PARTY! WHOEVER'S IN CHARGE, GET YOUR ARSE OVER HERE NOW," I shouted. Some of the horses shied away at the sudden challenge, but a rider, accompanied by a pair of guards, started trotting towards us.

"Lord, may I see the mark?" he asked as he stopped five metres from me. I twisted so my left shoulder was aimed at him, and he nodded.

"Good job on being cautious, warrior. But next time, have your guards stop slightly further back so they have the distance to get up to speed and save you if it isn't me!" He nodded and slipped off his horse.

"My father says you're not given to being overly formal. I'm Caltan," he said as he offered me his wrist for a warrior's clasp.

"Pakter's boy?" The Mohawk was right. I returned the clasp and then twitched sideways as his left hand moved. I yanked him upwards and slammed his body down into the dirt behind me before stepping away quickly. My golem had charged forward and now loomed over the man, mechanical eyes busily locating the best place to stab down with its spiky tentacle limbs.

"A feather!" he coughed as he waved the thing in his raised left hand. "My father told me to keep you on your toes!"

"Back," I ordered my automaton, and it reluctantly stepped away a few feet. I had no doubt it would rip the boy limb from limb if he so much as sneezed in my direction right now.

"Time and a place, kid. Time and a place." I offered a hand and pulled the man to his feet. My golem twitched forward but stopped when I shot a look in its direction. "I appreciate your father's concern for my well-being," I added wryly. "What's the situation with your people?" I asked as we made our way on foot towards the dispersing line of Huskar legionaries.

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"We've gathered all the outriders. The steppe is cleared, barring a few dozen small groups of undead!" the young man enthused.

"Small groups are no problem," muttered Jandak as he and the rest of my party came alongside us.

"They're a threat to foraging parties. I won't be happy until they're gone from our lands!" snapped Fay.

"I agree," Kos added in support of his sister. "We need the steppe to be safe before we press south and face the real opposition."

"What do you think, Caltan?" I asked. The warrior glanced nervously at the people around him. People who had already taken on a certain mythic status among the wider nomad population.

"I think if Lady Fayala wants something, I'd be honoured to see it done!" he snapped.

"Looking to escape the front in the coming war?" Mune said casually as his automaton followed in his wake. The young warrior bristled and spun to face him.

"That's a challenge if I ever heard one!" he snarled, his spear swinging forward to put the tip between him and my Fang.

"There'll be enough blood spilt soon!" snapped Kril, lashing out like a viper to snatch the spear shaft as Mune scowled at the young noble. "No need to start with our own!"

"Let's get the chiefs and the tribunes together. Caltan, I'm assuming we're ready to move?" I asked. Based on what I could see from above via Glimpse, I was confident it wouldn't take long to get the thousands of giants and nomads into motion.

Ponies were tethered at the entrances to the palisades, and I could see saddles being switched out regularly so a troop was always ready to ride out. The Legion were almost more mechanical than our new golems. A runner had gone back from the group that met us, and as Glimpse circled lower, he heard harsh orders ringing out. They'd be ready to move in less than an hour.

As we approached the first ring of standing stones that encircled Hellath, the Tribunes walked out to greet us. They were followed by the much shorter but more numerous chiefs and kings of the nomads, looking like children hiding behind grown-ups.

"Hayl!" Jandak yelled as he shot past us and swept his wife into a hug, swinging her through the air. She slapped him on the head until he put her down. She was being gentle; she could split oak beams with a slap.

"Go on, Mune. Go find her," I said with a grin. Mune needed no further prompting as he used his speed and strength to maximum effect, blurring around the gaggle of leadership to go and find his wife.

"We're going to move out," I called, and all the faces snapped back in my direction. "We're going to hit Gethanel first. See what Urkash has done to reinforce their frontier. Whatever they've managed to do, we're going to rip them open, break their walls, burn their fields and drive towards the real threat on the southern coast!" I paused for breath and took stock. All eyes were fixed on me, and the old fear of being the centre of attention, anything that broke my grey-man cover, reared up in my head. I stepped forward and pushed it down.

These people, tens of thousands of them, had rallied to my cause. I'd set them on a path that would likely continue even if I dropped dead right now. The Legion might just retire north if I fell, but the nomads would wage their war on the shit-sitters one way or another, no matter what happened to me. A weight settled on my shoulders as I realised the commitment the tribes had made.

"We'll take them alive where possible." My voice was quiet, but still carried over to the gathered leaders. "If we can't, then they'll die. We'll scour every last fucking zombie from this world and stake Aresk's claim as the greatest god on Urth!" A wash of godly power spread over everyone assembled and courtesy of Glimpse I could see it wasn't only affecting the fighters who were in earshot.

Work stopped temporarily across the whole of Hellath. Heads craned to the sky, then pivoted in my direction. Thanks, bloke, I thought to my patron.

Happy to help, echoed in my brain.

"Right enough dicking about! Get yourselves ready to march! I want Gethanel taken in three days, and Settal will fall a week after!" I yelled, and the nomads scrambled into action. Runners and riders raced away to convey the orders to the furthest camps, but the war gods' message had been received. They were already collapsing tents and preparing to move out.

"That's a tough timetable," said Fay quietly as her overprotective golem loomed behind her.

"Gethanel won't be a problem. Settall will be," muttered Kril as his tri-symmetrical automaton carried him over.

"Are you ever going to stand on your own feet again?" muttered Kos.

"Speaking of standing on your own feet-" Fay began, but Kos grimaced and bolted for the Mondyn camp before she could finish her sentence.

"Still trying to set him up?" I asked. She shrugged.

"Someone's got to. You're sure all our forces are gathered?" she asked..

"Most of them are, love. We've got nearly… shit, I can't say for sure. Thirteen or fourteen thousand cavalry and the same again from the Legions. Waiting more will only let Mortimer gather more troops and undead."

"The undead are not a real threat," announced Bon as he arrived, shadowed by Mullius and Marbo. "Sending these two on ahead might be a good idea, though."

"Let us tear a path through our foes!" Marbo yowled into the air, his armoured tail thrashing back and forth. A gorilla-like fist slammed down on the top of his head as Mulius took his young protege in order.

"We'll clear a path to this town for you, if you like," he offered.

"Thanks, fall back if you meet magical resistance." My voice was flat as I issued the order. It wasn't sentimentality. I'd chosen to turn them into titans because I didn't have any attachment to them. They did represent a considerable amount of resource investment, and I wasn't prepared to risk that being wasted.

"Yes, Warlord!" they both boomed as they pivoted and began thudding way into the distance.

"That was easier than I thought it would be," I muttered.

"They've been bored. Nothing to smash," said Bon helpfully.

"The Legions are ready for what's coming? We won't have it all our own way when the undead have the support of regular troops and wizards," I asked. Kril cackled, and Kos caught himself as his own laughter matched the old man's.

"Sorry," he said.

"We know the cost. You took the Source, you command us now. We'll fight your war," rumbled the Huskar.

"Then let's roll out!" I called loudly.

We marched south with the automatons and the Fangs in the lead. On either flank, swarms of cavalry rode back and forth, and the central column consisted of a long line of heavily armoured giants.

Glimpse had lost track of my titans as they raced ahead, but the last time he'd seen them, they'd been heading in the right direction. I pushed aside the doubts creeping into my mind. The die was cast. More delay would only give Mortimer more time to prepare,

We'd face his abominations and his slave armies. The muscles under my left eye twitched at the thought. I'd made the leadership of the clans Soulbound Servants, along with most of the feral Huskar, but the majority of my forces were here of their own free will.

They'd made a decision to throw in with me. Maybe out of fear, at least partially, but mostly out of greed, ambition and a lust for revenge against the southerners for slights going back generations. Whether those slights were imagined or not, I couldn't judge, but they were with me now, and we'd settle their grievances or die trying.

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