Emily

Cold, dead killers. As unrelenting as a bonfire was to the fuel inside it, vicious and cruel. Their eyes held as much compassion as the edge of a sword. No cries, no emotion, nothing but the hard, dreadful drive to kill whatever lay in their path.

Valen's squad now had Emily pitying the Gloamtaken. Their bodies now littered the street like poorly-set cobblestones, treacherous footing for anyone trying to walk through this macabre path. Roderick kicked a severed arm as he passed by her, sending it spinning and flopping in front of Decklan and his soldiers.

"And you said most of them were new?" Decklan asked her. Mackaroy and Gwendolyn passed by last, two people who apparently hadn't been soldiers until yesterday. Two people whom didn't need to be taught that leadership meant being the first into the fray, and the last ones stepping out.

Vanguard. Rearguard. Rangers.

"Very new. Mackaroy there still forgets to make sure his shot has a good fit before he closes his salamander," Emily said, only half-feeling the bit she tried to put into the reprimand. The scarred shadow was a cold and efficient killer, and was obeyed by both Mildred and Roderick with an alacrity most army majors would envy.

"Hey, do me a favour?" Decklan asked. "Please don't die. Not sure I have it in me to try and give him an order."

"I figure if this invasion was going to kill me," Emily began, as Decklan gathered his squad into a line. "It would have been out in those fields. You, though, I'm not so sure about."

"Nonsense. I'm too pretty to die," Decklan replied, and he just about made it sound like a joke. Just about, but there was an angry twinge in his voice as he finished, and he turned his newly scarred face away.

The finger-length scratches weren't deep, and the angry red colour around them was already beginning to fade. But for much of Decklan's future, possibly the rest of his life, he would be living with people flinching at his visage, unable to look him in the eye.

Reviled for your most important deeds. Mackaroy said something of the like. And helping Decklan cope with those scars was one of those happy problems Emily was prepared to face, after the invasion. "Right, second squad, in a line. Just like you watched; Ivan's group on the left, Sarina and hers on the right. Volley fire between groups, we want them to bunch up nice and tight so their dead bodies plug the street up."

The Gloamtaken were closing again, already having eaten up have the space Valen's squad had reclaimed by paving the ground with their dead. Their advance was slow and clumsy, the fallen were a hazard to a tightly-packed mob,

"Hey, you remembered my name," Ivan joked. Declan passed behind Ivan's group, to join Sarina.

They were drawing close. Despite the jokes, Ivan had his gun pointed, his hands were steady, and his eyes were focused. "Igor's group, aim!" Emily bellowed.

"Just for that, she'll never say it right again," Decklan joked.

"I will when it matters," Emily disagreed. "But asides from that, Decklan's right. First group, fire."'

Emily pulled the trigger as she gave her order, and the others joined in before the flash of her own shot faded from her eyes. Gloamtaken toppled, others crashed into the ones falling, and the entire mob seemed to hesitate a step.

"Reload. Second group, aim," Emily shouted, and accented her order by obeying it herself. Decklan lead them into motion, a half step ahead and a firm example. Sarina was next, as she ought to be. Emily had doubts about her resolve, but she had no better choice for a second corporal. Given her experience as a soldier, Sarina was likely chaffed over being behind Ivan in promotion.

Or at least under normal circumstances. No one in their right mind should want to be in charge when things go to hell. "Fire," Emily shouted.

Salamanders screamed, Gloamtaken fell. The sound of Salamanders snapping shut was comforting. "First, fire."

Emily hoped they could keep the Gloamtaken pinned with Salamander fire. She was proud of Decklan and thought well of the others, but they weren't the cold killers of Valen's squad. If it came to swords and knives to hold this position, she wasn't sure second squad was up to it, and didn't want to find out.

But another three volleys in, and any advance the Gloamtaken made was taken by their fallen. The bulk of the horde was still at the edge of the building, held back by the growing pile of dead at their feet. The Tolun twins, Beatrice and Cassidy, looked to be fast hands with a Salamander, already keeping up with Decklan during their reloads.

"You know what the difference is between this and every other workday?" Ivan asked.

Emily was relaxed enough to take the bait. "What?"

"Not much. The City doesn't appreciate what we do here," Ivan said. "It's just as noisy." They fired their guns. "You sweat just as badly." Reload. "It stinks just as much." Fire. "You get yelled at." Reload. "Your boss always says the City could end if you don't give a hundred percent." Fire. "You boss is younger and under-qualified." Reload "And whenever you need one, every Crafter is fifty miles away."

"Burn me. When you say it like that, it sounds like the invasion isn't a new thing," Decklan said. He even spent a half-second looking at Ivan as if the womanizing labourer had said something profound.

"It isn't," Ivan said.

Emily didn't know why, but Ivan's reminder sent a shiver through her spine. "Hold fire," she shouted, and set her Salamander on her shoulder.

Something about that remind twinged at Emily's suspicions. Ivan's reminder was correct, of course. Even calling this invasion 'The Fifth' invoked the four other times monsters from beneath the Gloam came to plunge the City into darkness. But four previous invasions, four times before, meant whatever they were fighting had seen moments like this before; where the press of these puppeteered bodies into a narrow space meant they could be cut apart by much smaller numbers.

The bodies were so thick now it was difficult to see the street. More Gloamtaken tripped and toppled over as they advanced than managed to stay upright. At the pace the Gloamtaken advanced now, they could hold for at least as long as they had ammunition, and possibly long after. And yet those creatures were still being lead, less an invasion and more of a flood. A natural disaster, power without any focus.

Without any sort of intelligence behind it. Which conflicted with what she had heard from the Golems at the walls, or what the Rangers in the field experienced. "What the burning hell are they up to?"

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Ivan look up, over his shoulder. He flinched, his whole body tensing up, then without looking back he reached towards her, and shoved her in the chest.

Emily lost her footing, slipped, and felt something crack her against the back of her head. It wasn't that hard, but hard enough her vision blurred for a moment, and she couldn't make sense of something that fell down right onto the street where she had just been standing. Something that fell, right where she had been standing. Something with arms, legs, a head. But it made no sense to her, her thoughts were still swimming in a haze, like trying to see through a piece of cloth.

And it made even less sense when it began to get back up.

"Gloamtaken," Decklan shouted. And that was something she could focus on, to begin to see through her fuzzy thoughts. Her knife was in her hand of its own accord, and she was stabbing the creature in the back a second time before it collapsed back on the street.

"Gloamtaken at the windows." Ivan pointed up with his Salamander, and fired up at the higher stories. Everyone else in the squad did the same, just as more bodies started falling on them. One fell next to Cassidy, sending her spinning in place and falling to the ground. Another grabbed and clung to Deckaln's leg even before it got up, trying to bite at him through his boot.

Emily stabbed another, just as one fell beside her and pulled her Salamander out of her hand. She couldn't see past the scrum of bodies, as Gloamtaken started climbing up off the ground faster and faster.

A hand pulled her by the shoulder, practically dragged her clear, and only stopped when Emily could see the sky again. "Back in there, Fauth. Get them out, we'll regroup at the end of the street," someone said.

Someone crouched down in front of her, lifted her eyebrow with her thumb, which pulled her eyelid along with it. A black hat was blocking half of someone's face. "You're dazed. Take a moment, take some deep breaths. A bit of excess air in your blood will help."

Emily forced herself to pull in air until her lungs couldn't take any more, then forced it out in a single puff. "Spit and ash," she said as she tried to stand. Her head hurt, but her vision was still sharp. "Burn me, the squad, how are they?"

"Tell you in a minute," Gwendolyn replied, and stepped past her. "Mack, take Cam, Hendricks, and Mildred. Get into that building, it's where the charges are set. See how thick the Gloamtaken are in there. If you can clear them out, do it. If not, hold so that Mildred can check the charges over. If we can't clear that building out, we can't hold here."

"Spit, spit and burning ash, need my head," Emily said, as she forced herself to breathe and try to focus.

"Ivan, back to Varnell, we'll try to hold there," Gwen said, and Salamander shots began to ring out. The flashes of fire helped pull Emily's thoughts back together. Or perhaps it was just the air and the extra few seconds.

Seconds where she could have lost everyone, gotten them killed.

Emily drew her sword and staggered back into the melee, alongside Roderick who had stabbed his was through the middle of the crowd and started fighting them from the other side. The boy was focused, almost singularly, on someone lying beneath a pile of bodies. "Someone's in there, beneath those creatures," the boy said, as he looked for another creature to stab. "Gonna get them out."

"I'm with you," Emily said, and she shoved herself into a group of them trying to stand.

Two stabs, two more bodies, and she pulled her sword back to stab at a reaching hand. A head emerged from beneath the bodies, gasping for air. Decklan's face, quite possibly wearing another new scar, it was hard to tell with the blood and dirt on his face. "Burn me, we have to go. We can't stay here while they're dropping on us," he said, as he pushed a body off his chest. "Did we lose anyone?"

"Regroup, then we check," Emily said, and she helped pull him to his feet. Barley able to stand, they staggered together back behind the others, until Emily could let him collapse against the wall.

"Aranhall," Emily managed to shout. "How are we?"

"Everyone's out," Gwendolyn said. "Ivan, Sarina, put your groups back in place. Roderick, with Ivan. Fauth, join Sarina. Everyone who still has a Salamander, put it to work."

"I'm all right," Emily said, as she drew her sword. Her Salamander was still underneath some Gloamtaken, a dozen feet away. But right now, with Gloamtaken falling from the building and more coming from down the street, her gun might as well be on the other side of the City.

"Roderick, make a run for our ammo pile at the town square. Grab a box, and a few more Salamanders. We're going to need them," Gwendolyn ordered.

"Good order," Emily agreed. "And well done, covering my mess."

"Your mess, ma'am?" Gwen asked, sounding surprised. "Stopping to fire at that moment might have saved our lives. Was that luck, or did you think of something?"

"Had a feeling. It wasn't enough."

"It was enough to make a difference," Gwendolyn disagreed.

True enough, Emily admitted to herself. They were, after all, still alive.