Bringers Of Death by Marc Gascoigne; Christian Dunn

Author:Marc Gascoigne; Christian Dunn
Language: eng
Format: MOBI
Publisher: Black Library
Published: 2011-05-17T23:00:00+00:00

Dawn had begun to tint the sky when the remains of the fire were kicked over and the men moved down to the riverbank. The water rose to mid-chest and ran quickly and forcefully over slick, rounded rocks. Vikor found the noise of its passage oddly soothing - a reminder of the natural world, after the overwhelming noise of the greenskins' infernal machines. Invisible among the treetops, birds began to sing their greeting to the new day.

They moved carefully across the river, holding their powder pouches overhead as they felt their way around the largest of the riverbed rocks with their toes. Brael was first across, half-sliding down the steep bank into the icy water, pushing through the stiff reeds and then fighting to hold his balance against the strong current, all the while feeling his way with the toe of his boot as the water rose to chest height before the riverbed at last began to rise towards the gentler, less reed-clogged opposite bank.

On the far side, Brael secured a line around the nearest tree and threw it back to Kobar, who was waiting waist-deep in the water. He and the rest of the men used the line to help maintain their balance against the force of the river. With his mutilated hand, Brael would have been unable to take much advantage of it.

The land rose gently ahead of them as they marched away from the river, covered with tough, low-growing shrubs and the occasional moss-encrusted boulder -

whether they had rolled down from the hilltops in ages past, or else were left there by ancient floodwaters, Brael couldn't guess.

Again steering by the sun, Brael tried to keep them moving along a south-westerly route that would bring them back in line with the army's southerly course.

That was assuming he had remembered the map correctly - he had only seen it for a moment; the minor baron who had given the briefing didn't expect any of the men he was addressing to survive.

Gradually, the roar of the river faded behind them and for a while they marched in silence. The grassy land undulated softly beneath them and maintained a gentle upward gradient. Only the muted noises of the equipment they carried marked the time.

The sun was approaching its noon-point when a new sound reached them: a low rumble. At first, Vikor took it to be distant thunder, though the storm season was still two or three months away. The looks on the faces of his companions made him think again.

'Distek! Kleeve!' Brael beckoned and broke into a run. Distek, a farmer like Brael, and Kleeve, a trader in tanned hides, slipped the ammunition belts they were carrying from their shoulders and ran after Brael, quickly disappearing through a stand of trees that marked the crest of the long rise they had spent the morning climbing.

Those left behind didn't slacken their pace. As they marched, they began to check their own and each other's equipment; those who had rifles loaded and primed their weapons.

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