[Dune: Evolution] "Eight out of Twenty" news

[Russian version]
We haven't given anything to the public for a while, as we thought, and so we've decided to show you something. We present you the story which is taken right from the future campaign, so to say. A brilliant artwork of the AnderP is included.
Don't miss it!
Ruhaks, there were exactly twenty of them, went on patrol to far glaciers. After what Dammar managed to do today, he strengthened the patrols, he was afraid that the Fremen would retaliate immediately – either with a diversion or even with a full-scale assault. And his fear was not misplaced – they were hiding in shadows before, but now the Fremen knew whom to find and how to do it. And now, in the middle of a small pit, back-to-back, only eight of them were going round, eight out of twenty survivors...
They were breathing heavily, they slowly retreated, bristling with their trademark cleavers. They had been pressed so suddenly that they even didn’t have enough time to get their equipment, and now the cleavers, which were more like a part of their uniform than a true weapon, were the only things they had.
- So what? Do you see them?
- Quiet... they are here, I think I’ve seen a shadow...
- You think? – sneer could be easily seen here, - I’ve counted four.
- Hoku, you psycho, you like it?
- Another two-three of us die and they’ll go openly, that’s gonna be interesting...
- Shut up, all of you, two are flanking us from the canyon, we must break through. Counting to three! Ready? One...
They’ve heard falling rocks.
- It’s too late to count!
- 5 o’clock!
- I see.
- Rish, Zarook – you cover Hoku and me, all the rest scatter, there’s only four of them, we take those near the canyon. Go, go...
And all the eight scattered around, leaving a dusty trail.
It began.
Blue eyes went out of the darkness, there was indeed four of the Fremen, but after a mere second there was only seven Harkonnen left. One of the Fremen, with a good slide, slit the throat of the fallen ruhak, from chest to chin, but the jags of his crysknife caught the helmet of the slain soldier. The Fremen twitched his hand again, but it was too late, something burned his back, his throat filled with blood, and the tip of the cleaver burst through his ribs and chest. Now there were three... against six... an agonizing cry went from the other side of the pit, along with the clanking of heavy armor...