Bonereapers by David Guymer

Author:David Guymer
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2020-10-01T07:46:16+00:00

Chapter Seven

The Fyreslayers barrelled through the tunnel. They ran in no particular formation beyond that which got each warrior soonest into the face of the enemy. The brothers Zunkrul and Stukkur, and Battlesmith Lungryr, kept pace with Uzkar. His doom was foretold and for reasons of grandeur and posterity they meant to be nearby when it came, but dozens of vulkite warriors streamed ahead into the darkness. There was not a warrior in the Uzkar dumfyrd who did not share their runeson’s haste. Joyous screams and flashes of rune-fire defined the curvature of the tunnel walls and the shape of the battle ahead. Uzkar bared his teeth, unthreatened by the approach of death even as a Fyreslayer went flying back over his helmet crest and thumped into the curve of the ceiling. He wished Trotha could have been there, but though the tunnel was wide enough to get an elder magmadroth down, he didn’t want to have to turn one around afterwards.

And a part of him wanted to face this foe alone.

‘Khazukan!’ he bellowed. ‘Dum-ha!’

The gritty golden halo of his own body’s rune-glow drew an Immortis Guard from the tunnel’s gloom.

The breadth of its tower shield filled the passage. The height of its winged helmet almost scraped the ceiling. It was a giant of bone, encased in black metals that reflected none of Grimnir’s fire. Uzkar’s grip on Uzkrander tightened at the prospect of measuring it more closely, hand to hand.

Shimmying his feet, he pulled his charge short, stuck a foot out to the tunnel wall and pushed, lofting himself up enough to drive his axe deep into the Bonereaper’s skull.

His bare feet slapped to the ground as the gigantic praetorian collapsed into the wall like a broken doll, and then slid down the curve to the ground at his feet. Its skull made a wrenching, sucking noise, no different to the head of any other beast or monstrous creature that Uzkar had ever killed, as he tore his axe back out of it. He stamped through its hip bone for good measure. Dire warnings of Bonereaper invincibility had not fallen on entirely deaf ears. Even if close contact to the white heat of the Ulrung’s wrath had proven them exaggerated.

Most things looked decidedly less all-powerful when they were dust under a Fyreslayer’s heel.

He pounded his fist on his chest and roared.

Battle zeal and the war-chants of the Ulrung runesmiters made the ur-gold in his body glow hot.

‘Khazuk!’

‘Khazuk-ha!’ came the furious reply.

Uzkar watched with a fierce, paternal pride as his Fyreslayers tore into the Ossiarchs. Their movements were blurs of gold, their axes streaks of fire. Here and there though, it was almost as if the Ossiarchs’ Immortis were weathering them. Matching them even. The margrave woman had been right, though he wasn’t about to admit it. The Ossiarchs had little in common with the dead things he’d spent a lifetime killing.

They were big, yes, they were tough, yes, but they were also surprisingly good.

And they were fast.

‘And thus did

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