Marks of Chaos by James Wallis

Author:James Wallis
Language: eng, eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Black Library
Published: 2013-12-03T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER ONE

Meetings

He came out of the darkness like a lion onto dogs, crashing out of the leafless trees beside the rough earth road, his sword raised and swinging. The first of the group half-turned towards him and fell with his face bisected in a spray of blood. The second lifted an axe to defend himself but the sword darted low, a flash of blue steel like a kingfisher over a stream, slicing through leather and cutting flesh. The third stared at the sudden stump of his arm as he dropped, his legs cut from under him. The fourth parried the thrust aimed at his heart, took the hilt of the sword in his face, staggered back a pace and was decapitated, his head falling to the frozen ground, followed a second later by his body.

The last two turned and fled, heading off the road and into the forest, leaving the corpses of their comrades twitching on the road around the statue-still newcomer. His tall form was dark against the sombre sky of the late afternoon. His hair was jet-black and wild, the feathers of some dark bird about to take flight. Shadows hid his eyes and scars.

The four men he had saved cowered beside the cart they had been pulling. They wore monks’ robes and victims’ bruises, and stared at their saviour with fright and disbelief. Two of them were silent; two muttered prayers and praises to a selection of gods. The dark man did not look at them, but walked to the edge of the earth road, tore up a handful of frost-dried grass and began to wipe the blood from his sword-blade.

The leader of the monks stepped away from his followers, moving towards the nearest of the corpses. The tall man moved quickly towards him, blocking his path with a hand to prevent him from getting close.

“Don’t. Leave them.”

The monk flinched, looking up, seeing the man’s face for the first time. A few weeks later, when the witch hunters questioned him about it, even under torture all he could remember was the dark, straight hair, the unshaved high cheekbones, the deep-set eyes bracketing the twisted shape of a nose that had been aquiline before it had been broken. This was a man who used to be handsome. Now his face commanded respect and fear, but few would smile at it. There was a bandage around his neck, almost hidden by the collar of his tunic.

The monk tore his gaze away. “These men are dead,” he said, “and I must bless them.”

By answer the man drew his sword and used the tip to rip open the ragged shirt of the closest corpse. Under the skin, something thick writhed.

“Not men,” he said, “and not dead. Mutants, things of Chaos. They do not need your blessings.”

The monk shook his head. “If I do not bless them,” he said, “then their bodies may be possessed by necromancers. It is my duty to protect them against dark magics.”

“Then help me burn them, to destroy their contagion.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.