Selim gripped the arms of the chair. Through the viewscreen, the flames grew steadily closer but the D'AKv'var ship shuddered so hard it set his teeth rattling in his head and his knuckles went white, 'What if we fall out of the sky?'

Opposite him, Isaac sat in the exact same pose; upright, talons clutching the arms of the seat. Selim's eyes darted across to his Mother. She sat with her fists gripping the steering column, no expression visible but the steely glint of her mask. He watched her touch the console, haul the column to one side, touch the console again. The ship's shuddering eased but the lights in the cockpit flickered and died, plunging them into darkness.

Mei'Savir lean towards Mei'Varsi, his huge silhouette outlined against the burning sky, merging with hers as he spoke into her ear. Of course, it was difficult to hear anything over the rumble of the labouring turbines – maybe he had just been leaning down so that she could hear him – but their closeness set the wings of hope fluttering in Selim's chest, 'What if Isaac is right; what if they have reconciled? We could all be together again – once we find Spyrro, of course.'

He shut his eyes and found his thoughts turning to the goddess for the second time that night; 'Bitch goddess,' He began, 'This day I have taken lives in your name; I lay my kills at your feet. In return, bring back my little sister; and make my parents love one other again, even though…'

He opened his eyes and stole a look at his twin, whose head was turned fixedly towards their parents. 'Even though my brother will not like it." Selim thought, "I know he is angry with Mei'Savir, I even understand why – but surely, he will come to understand that they need each other; that we all do!'

He sighed. Even from here, he felt Isaac's rage bubbling under the surface just as clearly as he felt the deck of the ship juddering with each new pocket of turbulence, 'Surely, he must see that our family cannot fall apart?'

Spyrro jumped back, scrambling away from the towering shape that was snatching for her with long fingers. She slashed wildly with the dah'kte, severing a few claw tips and it roared in her face, the noise deafening her. Spyrro screamed back, adrenalin pounding so hard that everything was a blur. The apparition raised the blades on its other hand to stick her, when she was knocked to one side. The GhaRan-S'i-Ka erupted past her, driving her spear into the attacker's chest, the point bursting through his ribcage and out through his back in a shower of gory bone shards. Spyrro watched as the clan leader dropped the ki'cti-pa handle, leaving the spear embedded in her opponent. Unsheathing her dah'kte, she brought them slicing down on him like a meat cleaver. Their attacker's hands dropped onto the leaf litter, one, two; severed at the wrist.

There was a moment of silence and then the sounds rushed back in on Spyrro, howling and clamouring suddenly surrounding her. She stood and stared as attackers swarmed in on all sides. A female on her left was clubbed down, helmet split to the bone by a heavy axe blade; another flung backwards against a tree, innards vaporised by a bolt of plasma.

The GhaRan-S'i-Ka roared like a hurricane, launching herself into the press of bodies, her blades a spiralling pattern of death, striking off heads and hands and arms in a nebula of blood spray. Fighters fell all around her; grass bowing before the storm of her wrath. Xal'Uate and the other warriors sprang into renewed life as their huge leader carved a bloody swathe through the enemy – a juggernaut that could not be resisted. Spyrro saw Xala plunge her blades into one male's ribcage, turn and shoot another's head from his shoulders, the shattered eggshell fragments of his skull flying apart. Ito darted out, attacking and retreating behind the D'Tai N'as, wrist knives glowing.

Spyrro ran, pelting towards them, skidding to a halt in the leaflitter just in time to avoid a set of wickedly barbed blades that whistled down past her face. She fell back on her haunches, every vein in her body pulsing with electricity and the huge shadow rearing up above her, jagged dah'kte pulling back for another stab. There was a raw flesh noise and her attacker collapsed. His head toppled from his shoulders to reveal Xala, almost steaming with fury, her cool, black skin spattered with lurid blood.

"Spyrro!" She bellowed, "Come here!"

The combat master seized her by the scruff of the neck, pulling Spyrro behind her own body so that the girl was shielded. She huddling gratefully behind Xala's protective bulk. Now, the ambushing yautja were bunching together, hemmed in by the force of the Rough Skull counter attack and – most terrifying of all – the clan leader, bloody to the elbows, dah'kte running with green. Watching her was uncannily familiar. For a moment Spyrro could not understand what she was reminded of, but then she realised; the GhaRan-S'i-Ka was like Mei'Savir. Not the same type of movement; Mei'Savir moved fast, flowing from one place to another so rapidly it was hard for the eye to follow. The clan leader was simply … relentless. Her huge arms struck hammering blow after hammering blow, her giant shoulders tireless, like the pistons of some great engine that will not stop.

Spyrro stood and watched the enemy fall, broken beneath the unstoppable fury of the GhaRan-S'i-Ka.…

Columns of flames rose up to meet them like the pillars of Hades. Lex kept the craft as steady as she could but, as the D'AKv'var ship neared the lava plain, the turbulence in the cockpit intensified, as did her fears for the engines.

"Are you sure we have to fly so near to all this fire and debris? Can we not avoid it?" Halkrath said, to her left.

"We need to land near to the Fury and the Chameleon!" Scar snarled across her at the scientist, "Or would you prefer a long trek through the jungle, carrying the wounded?"

"Be calm, both of you."

Lex gritted her teeth, but kept her voice steady. The cockpit was already a sauna and her palms on the steering column were damp. Halkrath lowered his head in submission but she couldn't see his face under his mask. What she really didn't want was a yautja struggle for male supremacy; 'If they start fighting each other, none of us will be getting off this rock alive!'

She gripped harder, willing her hands not to slip, blinking sweat from her eyes.

"How big a problem are those flames?" She asked the scientist, her jaw still clenched, "Am I just looking at showers of sparks or is it more than that?"

Halkrath craned forward, "It is hard to be sure without instruments but I think it is some type of small, volcanic plume – jets of ash and debris shooting into the sky. Perhaps catching alight as they rise – or perhaps lava. Either way, we should not go too close."

Scar was also gazing out of the darkened viewscreen, "I think we can avoid the fire," he said, "There is a clearing. Bank us to the right."

"How far away?"

"To the north east, two clicks. It is at the edge of the volcanic plain, we need to get down low enough and fast enough to avoid the worst of the plumes."

Lex nodded and hauled at the steering column. The cockpit jolted and shook as she wrestled the D'AKv'var ship into a rapid descent. The engines groaned, labouring hard, fighting to burn off the ash and dust that was trying to clog up the turbines. Her teeth rattled in her jaw, the vibrations from the straining engines jarring the bones in her arm as she forced the complaining craft down. They sank down to forest level and clouds of ash swirled up to meet them, sending the ship into more shuddering convulsions.

"Scar, I don't know if we can make it!"She shouted over the deafening, grinding din.

Next to her, Halkrath clutched the arms of the second co-pilot's seat, talons making ragged track-lines.

Silence descended in the clearing; the silence of death.

Now there were only females left standing. Mist writhed amongst them, mingling with the steam from bloodied, broken yautja bodies, both Rough Skull and the enemy. Spyrro held herself still, not wanting anyone to see what she was feeling. She had seen Mei'Savir hunt before; she had seen him kill prey before; but she had never been on a battlefield. His words came drifting back to her, half remembered from their lessons; "Hunting prey is an artform Spyrro, but battle – true battle – is a dirty, bloody thing. Once you are fighting against other yautja there is no room for hesitation or mercy."

Spyrro stared, new horror everywhere she looked; a male with his belly slit open, guts spilling out like shining snakes; a female with half her mask gone, revealing the plasma-burned ruin of her face. The enemy who had attacked Spyrro first still grovelled on the floor, trying to raise himself without hands, trying to breathe with a spear through his chest.

The GhaRan-S'i-Ka stood alone amidst the carnage, looking as if she had bathed in yautja blood, her hands and her arms and her mask glowing green. Shestrode over to the male who had attacked Spyrro first, grabbing him by the throat and hauling him to his knees. Blood was running freely from the ravaged stumps of his wrists, his chest rattling with faltering breath. The matriarch tore off his mask and he began to convulse in the foul, ash-laden air. Ignoring his retching coughs, she clasped his head in her giant hands, bringing him close to her own face.

"You darrrre to attack my blood?" She growled, "On Rough Skull soil?"

"Fuck you…clan slave," He wheezed, "The… soil does not belong… to you!"

Spyrro drew closer to the D'Tai N'as, huddling against the comforting bastion of the Xal'Uate's huge frame. More than anything she wished her parents were here. She wanted to be folded into their arms and hear them say in her ear that everything would be alright, 'Mei'Varsi,' She prayed silently, "I am sorry I pushed you away – please come back!'

The matriarch was ominously still. Spyrro was finding it hard to breathe, unable to tear her gaze away from those huge hands. She didn't know what the GhaRan-S'i-Ka was going to do next, but she felt dread bubbling in her stomach. The hands shifted so that thelong-clawed thumbs were resting just beneath her captive's eye sockets.

"You are mine." The clan leader chittered, the sound as threatening as the rattle of a hidden snake, "You will tell me what you vermin are doing in my territory."

"I will not… say."

With sudden brutality, the GhaRan-S'i-Ka drove her claw into one of his eye sockets. A bellow burst out of him and she drew him close to her face again while he writhed and shuddered, as helpless as a child in her taloned grip.

"U'darahje!" He gasped.

"The Abomination?" The GhaRan-S'i-Ka's fingers tightened on his face "What about him?"

"We hunt him… he killed my … brothers." His other eye rolled madly, "He and his… ooman witch."

The clan leader snarled, "What do you know of the ooman witch?"

He spat "She can… steal your soul and he is… bujja!"

"Bujja?" Spyrro hissed to Ito.

The girl shook her plaits, "A ghost – the dead who do not die."

Spyrro still did not understand this but clearly the clan leader did not like it. She stood silent for a few heartbeats looking into the face of her captive while insects hissed around them. Then, she slowly drove her claws into his one remaining eye, the quiet gulp of flesh terrible to hear. He howled, his limbs shaking as he tried vainly to pull her off him, but she was implacable, her grip like iron. Her voice never rose nor changed at all as she spoke next to his ear, "U'darahje is not cursed. There are no bujja. Cease these childrens' tales and tell me where he is."

"You old bitch!" He hissed, "You will walk in torment forever, unable to die an honourable death – "

Spyrro expected the GhaRan-S'i-Ka to rage and bellow, but she did not. Instead, she tightened her grip again, her manner calm and serene as her fingers curled, burying her talons in his sockets until they were submerged up to the very last joint. At last, he gave a gargling, choking groan, spasming in the clan leader's grip, his legs thrashing with the jerking motions of a panicking fish. When he finally shuddered into stillness, the matriarch withdrew her claws in a spurt of gore. The body crumpled at her feet like a skinned prey-beast.

The GhaRan-S'i-Ka turned towards Spyrro, "Do you see, my namesake?" She croaked, "See how I punish our enemies?"

Spyrro swallowed, her mouth feeling as if it were filled with dust, "Yes, GhaRan-S'i-Ka."

The clan leader lifted her hand to Spyrro's face, her talons still dripping with the bright-green blood of her victim, "And I shall destroy allll who threaten you, my only one."

"Yes, GhaRan-S'i-Ka."

The other females were now standing around them on the periphery of Spyrro's vision, awaiting their leader's word of command.

"My girl," The matriarch said again, tracing a claw down the metal of Spyrro's mask, the scrape of the claw loud and discordant in the sudden silence, "My most precious one. My youngesssst..."

Unexpectedly, Spyrro's eyes stung with tears at being called that name – the name Mei'Savir used to call her, "Is this what Mei'Savir is like with other yautja?" She thought, heart slamming her throat, "Does he cut them down? Split them like you gut a fish? Gouge their eyes out with his hands? Well, does he?!"

Her stomach lurched because she thought she knew the answer, 'Yes.' She thought, feeling the floor shift beneath her at the realisation, 'Mei'Savir would do those things if it stopped them from getting to me. Or Selim or Isaac. Yes. He would do those things. He is the GhaRan-S'i-Ka's son… and I bet they would follow him just like they follow her, because that is what yautja follow. They follow the one who is …who… is…'

She swallowed down the thorns that sprang up suddenly in her throat, not able to finish that thought. With an effort, she kept her voice steady.

"Yes, GhaRan-S'i-Ka." She said.

At that moment, one of the other Rough Skulls clicked at the clan leader. Spyrro recognised the navigator, Ar'Gjin; a short female with long arms and braids twisted into a complicated plait at the nape of her neck. She did not speak but raised her talons to point over their heads to the soot blackened sky. All the masked faces tilted upwards as a streak of fire appeared, a flare of light getting closer and Spyrro realised suddenly that it must be a ship; a yautja ship just like their own, perhaps the one the navigator had seen come down with them. Deafeningly loud, it screamed overhead, rushing past so low it shook the treetops in a blizzard of grey and white ash and sped onwards, plummeting down towards the jungle. The Matriarch's head turned with, tracking the ship's path as it roared across the sky, falling like a dying star.

"Enemies?" Xal'Uate said.

The clan leader nodded, "We have no allies here."

"More D'AKv'var, then?"

"No, it is him." The clan leader continued to stare into the darkness, "U'darahje."

Xal'Uate became very still, "You know this, GhaRan-S'i-Ka?"

The huge talons flexed, green blood still dripping down them like glowing tears "I know it."

The combat master's expression was unreadable under her mask, but her throat convulsed, "What are your wishes, my commander?"

The Matriarch did not reply for a few moments. Her huge head was still raised skywards, gazing after the ship. The D'Tai N'as and the others waited in silence for her command.

"Track them." She said.

"Yes, my commander." Xal'Uate dipped her head and signalled to the scouts, dispatching them to run on ahead.

The GhaRan-S'i-Ka turned to look at Spyrro, her polished scowling mask reflecting Spyrro's own visor, cold metal mirrored in cold metal. Even without seeing the yellow coals of her eyes, Spyrro felt the force of the matriarch's will like a thumb pressing into her forehead. She was aware of the lurid green streaking down her mask, as if the GhaRan-S'i-Ka had blooded her; marking her face; yautja blood, instead of the acid burn of the hard meat. She could no more resist than a leaf can resist the current of a river, or a straw, the hurricane. The GhaRan-S'i-Ka reached down and wrenched her spear free of the mutilated corpse at her feet.

"My will be done." She purred.

Lex hauled again on the control column, trying to bring up the nose of the craft as it dove towards the treetops, "We are going down."

"We have made worse landings than this."Scar snarled.

"Scar, the turbines are too damaged!" She yelled, having to shout over the suffering engines, her eyes fixed on the power gauge as it wavered and then fell, "They're going to fail!"

He leaned forward, despite the drag, clawing some commands into the console, "Fuck the engines - just ramp up the power!" He bellowed back at her over the din, "They only have to hold steady until we land!"

Despite the darkness of the cockpit, she saw the beads of moisture sparkling on his throat. Something in her chest felt like it was imploding as she pulled the steering column harder, the darkened jungle sailing past silently under them so fast and she couldn't slow it down, nothing was working, burning orange sparks spiralling above into the endless black, 'Just let us get down, please God.'

The turbines fluttered, their moan fluctuating wildly, pitching into a scream as the power began to die. The ship dropped down below the tree canopy and then they were under a dusty, grey sea. There was a terrible rending and snapping as trees and branches battered the viewscreen, breaking and snapping as the force of the ships' velocity ploughed through the jungle, tearing a path through the forest. Fire sprayed up on either side; patches of toxic gas and chemicals igniting as they passed. The engines gave a final agonised howl and then… stopped. For a few lung-shrivelling instants they sped on, propelled by their own inertia. She tried to force her neck to turn and look at the boys but she couldn't, her head pressed against the seat. The storm of noise went on around them but they were suspended, in the eye of a hurricane. Then, impact; apocalyptic light and sound, overwhelming her senses. Eyes close. White-out.

It's taking me a little longer to edit chapters as we draw near the summer holidays - hopefully it'll get easier once I'm not working every hour of the day! Anyway I enjoyed writing some more fight scenes. Please follow, favourite and review if you're reading and enjoying the story.

Tenjp: Not sure if it's selflessness or pride, because he's always got to be the strongest, right? Either way Scar is not having a nice time right now.

Miko Uchi Queen: Thanks! I'm so glad you love it and please don't apologise, your English is great! I'd love to visit your Insta but you'll have to PM me your account name please!

LovyDovy7: Yes Varrik got sneezed and coughed on but he was wearing his mask at the time and Scar wasn't when he came in contact. Still though Varrik's chances aren't looking great either, virus or no virus! You're definitely right that Lex needs to get savage right now though.

Conart02 - Glas you love it. I'm not sure how many chapters - I guess it takes as long as it takes. Are you hoping it'll wrap up soon - or would you prefer it to keep going? ;)