The canal walls soared up like great, flat-faced cliffs. Theory was one thing, but walking the great waterways of Wildhearth on bare footpaws was an unnerving experience Kappsi would not have recommended to anyone. While the canal had been dredged thoroughly before draining, there was still some debris scattered around, a piece of a propeller here; a broken, rotting punt-pole there.

She trudged at the head of the group, the unfamiliar weight of an enforcer dirk heavy in one paw. Skoppa carried a single-headed axe, while Haarm had fitted himself with the bulk of a heavy armbow. Behind them the two enforcers stalked, armbows and bladed-gauntlets augmented by a fearsome-looking mace for Gensher, and a short-hafted spear slung across Farler's back.

Leading the way, she battled to stop herself looking back at them over and over again. Farler's warning echoed horribly in her mind. Gensher was such a blank slate of violence that he was almost unreadable beyond that. He loped along, scenting the air at regular intervals, totally oblivious to the cloud of suspicion circling around him.

Kappsi tried not to think about it. She hadn't even been able to tell Skoppa and Haarm – they hadn't been left alone long enough to speak about it without risk of the big wolfkin hearing them. Instead she concentrated on finding their way to the Drambower fish factory.

They'd broken into an overflow sluiceway from the closest neighbouring canal. If the other canal flooded while they were down here, things could get very, very interesting, but for now, it had provided them a means of entry into the dead canals of Drambower.

Once inside, Kappsi led her brothers and their wolfkin escorts down a series of sickeningly narrow maintenance stairways, ill-maintained and crumbling, but still in one piece for now. It took them a long time to reach the bottom, and once there she was gratified to find that even Gensher looked a little uncomfortable about their situation.

She followed the directions on their new map, drawn onto a fresh, crisp set of barkpaper, marvelling at how neat Haarm's paw could be when he put his mind to it. Everything was sketched out in clear, black lines of charcoal, marked with junctions and canal designations. On the walls more than thirty feet above their heads, corresponding black letters had been printed, the symbols as tall as she was and faded with age. Checking them off against her map, she carried on, ramming all the fear and fury to the deep of her mind for now.

They traversed the eerie, ghost-canyons of Drambower for almost two hours before their destination finally came into view.

The sight of it didn't make Kappsi feel much better. The factory skulked on its plateau, a lonely, morbid reminder of the life that had once flowed through this part of the city. It was bigger than the pictures made it seem, but had also lost a few additional layers of ceramic and brickwork since the last survey of this derelict place. Some of the upper levels had collapsed entirely, while ivy had begun its inexorable climb up some of the lower levels.

The sight of the dead docks around it made Kappsi pause. She unwillingly found herself imagining Whaveloda suffering the same fate and the image wrenched her heart.

How many districts had been left to decay like this, she wondered? How many little worlds had the Conclave decided were not worth keeping? How many lives had been uprooted by the constant churn of the city's quest for wealth?

For the first time she felt an unwelcome jolt of understanding towards the Savage Fire followers. Their methods might have been barbaric – insane even – but somewhere buried beneath Kendris's poisonous teachings there was a kernel of something real.

"This looks like the place," Gensher commented, moving up alongside her with an expression of mild interest on his face. He looked at her. "Best way in?"

"Best way?" Kappsi snorted. "The front door."

"Alright, best way to sneak in."

"Probably the heat ventilators," Haarm cut in, cocking his head to one side as he examined the structure. "Normally they'd be underwater, but we can get at them on our paws here."

Farler looked dubious. "And we'll fit in those?"

"Aye, we'll fit." He shot Gensher a cheeky glance. "Even you, mate. But we gotta get up there first. C'mon, according to Glaw's pictures there's a maintenance stairwell on the east side. That'll get us up."

Not waiting for anyone else, he set off at a jog, and Kappsi went after him. The others quickly fell in, hugging the shadow of great square plateau to stay out of sight of prying eyes. Moving quick and quiet, Haarm skirted the edges until he found what he was looking for: a set of stairs hewn right into the stonework that zig-zagged perilously upwards, climbing fifty feet to the lip of the plateau.

"Let's go then," Skoppa growled, hefting his axe and mounting the stairs. Gensher tucked in behind him on the narrow steps, and the five of them began their climb in the silent dark.

They made it almost three quarters of the way to the top of the stairway when Gensher suddenly grabbed her brother by the scruff of his neck and wrenched him back, pulling them both up against the stonework. Kappsi didn't know what was going on, but she copied them, pressing herself to the wall and readying her dirk, heart slamming in her chest.

"Hold up!" Gensher spat.

"What in the pissin' Fires-?!"

"Use your eyes, planktail. They've got guards posted."

Skoppa's expression of outrage quickly vanished and he followed Gensher's pointing claw. It took a few seconds, but looking close, Kappsi felt a lurch of panic at the sight of a smudgy silhouette moving back and forth on the edge of the wall.

"Bloody fangs."

"Your way in is up there, right?"

"Aye," Haarm whispered from further back. "Just need to get to the edge of this block. Heat vents are all around the sub-level. When this place was runnin' they'd vent excess heat into the water."

"I didn't ask for a history lesson." The wolfkin released Skoppa and looked back down the stairwell. "I can deal with this," he said.

Farler didn't look thrilled by the prospect, but after a few seconds he nodded. "Fast and quiet, you hear me?"

"Have a little faith, eh?"

Then he set off, so low he was almost on all fours as he clambered ghost-like up the remaining stairs. She could barely see him in the gloom. Then she couldn't see him at all. The silhouette of the guard moved out of sight. Something big and black seemed to slither up over the wall top.

They waited.

Kappsi flinched as a sharp crack echoed from the ledge above. A couple of seconds later, Gensher poked his head out over the edge, looking for all the world like he was out for an evening stroll.

"Clear," he hissed down to them. "Let's go."

One by one they joined him on the plateau edge, where Kappsi discovered the corpse of the unfortunate Savage Fire guard with their head wrenched around at an unnatural angle. The factory loomed over them now, and the under levels that ought to have been concealed by the flowing canals now lay bare. Dozens of the large, rectangular heat vents studded the hardmud walls, each one a meter wide and three meters tall.

Swallowing hard, she stepped gingerly around the body to join Farler at the mouth of the closest one.

"This the place?" the wolfkin asked, inclining his head to the narrow, ink-dark aperture.

"Aye, that's it," she confirmed.

"Alright then." He looked back, beckoning. "Gensher, you go first."

"Scared of the dark, eh?"

"Just get your lazy carcass in there, will you?"

Smirking like a pup, Gensher slunk past, dropping into a crouch. The hulking enforcer padded into the gloom, almost vanishing from sight. Kappsi gulped down a fortifying breath and ducked in after him, with Skoppa and Haarm close behind, and Farler bringing up the rear.

Gensher moved with such silence that it amazed and unnerved her in equal measure. They climbed the gentle slop of the heat vent, and she could see him scenting the air as he moved. He twisted left and right, following some direction only he understood. A sick thought hit her.

Was he leading them into a trap?

Clutching the dirk tightly, she edged closer to Gensher's shape. The enforcer led them to the mouth of the vent, she could hear the low din of voices beyond it. She tensed, readying herself to spring.

"Y'hear that?" Gensher chuckled, looking back at her. "Think we found 'em."

He prowled out into the room beyond and Kappsi tried to relax her taut muscles, moving to follow him. They emerged onto a low, railed gantry in the factory's lower storage level, a yawning empty space without the bustle of commerce to fill it.

At least, it would have been, were it not for the presence of several hundred howling Savage Fire cultists.

"What in boilin' tides is all this?" Skoppa murmured, his gaze sweeping back and forth uneasily.

"Seems Kendris's people like a bit of blood sport," Gensher replied. "Look a little closer. Don't you recognise it?"

Kappsi's face contorted with disgust as she realised what she was looking at. It bore a superficial resemblance to the brawl-pits that littered Wildhearth's districts – a long oval of packed grit, its edges marked out by a ring of wooden stumps – but this one was decorated with the gut-churning symbols of the Savage Fire cult. Icons were painted into the sand and on the floor around it, coloured with the deep gore-red of dried blood. Other spatters on the ground were too haphazard to have come from a paint brush. All around the pit, hundreds of kin bellowed and brayed, raising clenched paws, clanging makeshift weapons on rusted barrels and slabs of metal.

Normally Wildhearth's brawl-pits were placed for kin to get violence out of their system in a controlled way – evolved they might have been, but they had not completely abandoned their animal nature. It was all regulated by district operators; she'd been to see a handful of fights herself, and enjoyed it as much as the next person. It was exciting, good-natured, and a source of revenue for dozens of districts who hosted regular tournaments.

Somehow, Kappsi suspected the Savage Fire cult used a different set of rules.

"Peace, look now," Haarm muttered, nudging her and pointing. "Here comes the big boss himself."

Even without Haarm's warning, it would have been hard to miss. Directly opposite their vantage point the assembled cultists parted like torn paper, revealing the brutal figure of Kendris. He stalked forward, dressed in barbaric finery of a blood red kilt and a toughened barkhide harness over his chest. In one paw he carried a dark, stone blade. It was roughly hewn, about the length of his forearm, and set into a handle that looked an awful lot like bone.

The crowds closed around him again as he stepped into the middle of the brawl-pit, and a hideous, feral grin split his features. He raised his blade, threw back his head, and unleashed a guttural howl that sent every millimetre of Kappsi's fur prickling with terror. The roar was taken up by the onlookers for several seconds, another cacophonous swell crashing against their ears before receding like an immense wave.

"The Fire will be stoked this day," Kendris roared, his wild eyes blazing. "We stoke it with the blood of the willing. Those who would burn, step forward!"

To either side of Kendris, the crowd split open again. Dread settled on Kappsi's shoulders as she tried to make sense of what she was seeing. To the left a wiry male quillkin trudged into sight, his fur matted and scarred, clad the same combination of harness and kilt as Kendris. He also carried one of the stone swords.

"Kappsi!"

Skoppa's choked gasp wrenched her attention to the other side of the pit. The parted crowd roared their appreciation as another figure emerged.

Oh, Brickle no...

It was all she could do to swallow down the sob that climbed in her throat. Her friend stalked into the light. Her slim frame was leaner now, muscles clearly evident in her arms and legs. Fur that had once shone glossily was now dulled my the muck and smog of the underdocks. She wore the same clothes as Kendris and the quillkin, and she gave her black-stone blade a couple of experimental swipes as she walked. It hummed viciously as it sliced the air.

"Peace and bloody Fire." Haarm shook his head in disbelief. "They're goin' to fight each other, Kappsi."

Her teeth clenched tight and she dug her claws helplessly into the fabric of her kilt, watching as the pair took up positions opposite each other.

"Brothers, sisters!" Kendris bellowed. The chanting evaporated in an instant at his voice, enraptured faces turning to gaze on the leader of the Savage Fire. "Our time is close at hand," he continued, making a slow circuit of the pit. "You all sacrificed what little you had, and placed your faith in me. That trust will be repaid tenfold."

The clang of weapons on armour blended with roars of approval from the assembled cultists. Kendris's smile never faltered as he circled back to the centre of the pit, standing between the two combatants.

"Your comrades here, they have volunteered to stoke the Fire," he growled, inclining his head to Brickle and the quillkin in turn. "They are the best of us, and whichever of them dies this day will be embraced by the Fire." He raised his blade again. "They are worthy of your worship."

Then Kendris barked something in a language Kappsi didn't recognise, a tongue that felt wrong as it touched her ears.

"Brut! Barra! Fierra! Scarratta!"

She recoiled slightly, but could not rip her gaze away from her friend.

A fresh thunder of savage cheering rose to shake the roof of the factory, before the strange chant was taken up by the cult members.

"Brut! Barra! Fierra! Scarratta! Brut! Barra! Fierra! Scarratta!"

As they roared out the words Kendris stepped back, and Brickle and her quillkin opponent began to circle, blades rising, their mouths moving to shape the cruel words of the Savage Fire.

"We've lingered long enough," Farler said quietly. "C'mon, time to leave."

Gensher nodded. "Let's get out of here. Time to tell Illando to bring the pain."

Kappsi shook her head. "No."

"I'm sorry about your friend, but there's nothing we can do right now." Farler reached forward to clasp her upper arm. "Let's just hope she wins."

"No!" She hissed, wrenching out of his grasp. "I'm not going anywhere. Leave if you want, but I can't."

He bared his teeth in a silent snarl of frustration, but Kappsi held his stare without faltering. Behind her the chanting was reaching fever pitch – the fight would be starting any second.

"Peace, Farler, you head back and tell Illando," Gensher grunted, casting an irritated look at the otterkin. "I'll keep an eye on them till this mess is over. I'll meet you at the canal mouth."

At that moment she didn't care that Gensher was probably about to betray them to the cult. She couldn't bring herself to. She simply couldn't turn and walk out of the room while Brickle fought for her life, no matter how twisted the reason. Farler hesitated, looking from Gensher to the Kappsi, his face pinched with indecision.

"Be careful," he said eventually. "All of you."

His stare lingered on Gensher for a moment longer, before he flashed his eyes to Kappsi – a wordless instruction.

Watch your back.

Then with a curse, he was gone. As Farler disappeared into the pitch blackness of the ventilation tunnel, the chanting dissolved into a wordless avalanche of screams. She spun back around, just in time for the two fighters to hurl themselves at each other.

An ear-splitting snap rang out as the two black-stone blades clashed, making her flinch. Brickle drove forward with a ferocious energy, lashing her blade at the quillkin like a cobra, but her adversary proved equal to the task. Naturally nimble and quick-pawed, he danced back, twisting left and right to turn her blade aside with his.

Kappsi's heart slammed into her mouth when the quillkin made a sudden block and lunge, aiming the point of his sword for Brickle's gut. The otterkin twisted in the nick of time, and the stone cut across her flank instead, leaving her with a flesh wound. Hissing in pain, Brickle replied by clouting the quillkin across the face with her free paw.

Biting her lip until she tasted blood, Kappsi seethed helplessly as the fight to the death played out. The quillkin stumbled away, and Brickle followed, the point of her sword questing for the other fighter's hide. More sharp cracks split the air as their weapons crashed together. The black stone blades flicked like striking snakes; it wasn't long before both combatants were bleeding from several flesh wounds. Fresh crimson spattered the floor of the brawl pit.

Such a contest could never last long, however. The pair collided, blades biting deep as they locked together, jostling for position. Muscles bulged; throats growled and after a moment Brickle began to gain the upper hand, levering her foe backwards.

The quillkin suddenly dropped back and to the side, bringing a knee sweeping up into Brickle's stomach. Kappsi inhaled a sharp breath as her friend collapsed to one knee, spluttering for breath. Her opponent pivoted and drove his sword down, aiming for her skull. Everything seemed to slow down for that instant. Could she really have come all this way just to watch Brickle die in some grotesque gladiatorial contest?

An instant before the blade struck home, Brickle swayed to one side. The quillkin lurched forward off balance, his sword slicing a trail across her cheek. As he overstepped, Brickle surged back to her feet, and slammed her blade up to its hilt in his stomach.

Blood splattered across the ground as the black stone ripped free from the quillkin's back. He let out a choking cough of shock, his own weapon clattering from nerveless paws. Still coughing for breath, Brickle rose to catch him by the back of the head. In a motion of jarring gentleness, she lowered him to the ground, gently drawing the black-stone sword out of him as she did.

She laid him down and stepped back, leaving a lake of red to pool around the dying quillkin. His eyes began to glaze over in death, and a final, rattling breath shuddered its way loose from his frame. Then he went limp.

Kappsi gripped the railing with all her might, squeezing the unyielding metal to stop herself from crying out. She could barely believe what she'd just witness.

My friend.

Killer.

Silence engulfed the arena. Brickle's chest rose and fell heavily. Drops of blood drip-dripped from the tip of her sword. Then Kendris stepped forward again. He moved slowly; reverently, his head lowered in respect. He sank down to one knee, and murmured something that Kappsi was too far away to really hear. Then he reached forward, closing the dead quillkin's eyes.

Standing again, Kendris's brutal grin returned and he took a hold of Brickle's sword arm.

"Your victor!" he bellowed, raising her paw high. The otterkin smiled maniacally through the blood spattered on her face. She looked wild-eyed and frantic, as though drugged to the gills, but no one on that many drugs could possibly have fought with that level of speed and concentration.

"By the Peace," Skoppa whispered as the onlookers cheered, squeezing Kappsi's shoulder with one paw. "What did they do to her?"

Kappsi couldn't speak. Couldn't explain it. She simply let out a shuddering breath and sniffed fighting down the tears.

"Alright, fun's over," Gensher growled sharply. When she looked around she found him already standing at the mouth of their escape route, pointing into the dark. "She's alive – good for her. Now we've got a job to do."

"He's right, sis," Haarm murmured. "Nothin' more we can do here – not right now."

With a conscious effort she unlatched her grip from the rail and staggered backwards, pain throbbing in her paws from how tightly she'd clenched the metal. Skoppa took a gentle grip of her shoulder, turning her away from the brawl-pit and Kendris's bloodthirsty acolytes.

"Your friend's no slouch with a blade, I'll give her that," Gensher grunted as she stepped past him into the ventilation shaft. "But just a warning, that's not gonna save her from Illando when we tear this place apart."