Nagash Immortal (The Rise of Nagash Book 3) by Mike Lee

Author:Mike Lee [Lee, Mike]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Black Library
Published: 2011-06-15T00:00:00+00:00

THIRTEEN

The Price of Victory

Nagashizzar, in the 102nd year of Tahoth the Wise

(–1250 Imperial Reckoning)

‘When is Lord Velsquee coming back?’

Eekrit sighed, rubbing a paw wearily over his eyes. He didn’t like where this conversation was heading. ‘Four months, if he encounters no trouble. Why?’

‘Because the kreekar-gan is getting ready to attack.’

The warlord beckoned with a claw and a trio of slave rats scuttled from the shadows of the throne room. Two of the slaves carried a carved wooden chair between them, which they set on the rug-covered floor behind Eshreegar. The Master of Treacheries nodded his head to Eekrit in thanks and took a seat. Of all the skaven left in the under-fortress, he alone was permitted to sit while Eekrit presided from the throne. The third slave climbed the dais with a golden tray bearing two bowls of wine. The warlord chose one bowl for himself and then the slave served Eshreegar the other.

Eekrit’s whiskers twitched as he breathed in the wine’s heady vapours. ‘You’ve been wrong in the past,’ he pointed out. ‘Sometimes spectacularly so.’

‘As you never cease to remind me,’ Eshreegar replied. He swirled the dark liquid in his bowl for a moment, then drained half the contents in one long draught and wiped his whiskers clean on his sleeve. ‘The signs are there, nonetheless.’

‘Such as?’

Eshreegar frowned at the warlord. ‘Spear companies, for a start. Some of my scouts went over the barricades a few nights ago and got as far as mine shaft two. The ones that made it back said there were four or five companies of bone-men there. Looked like they’d just arrived recently.’

Eekrit shifted uncomfortably on the throne. ‘How recently?’

The Master of Treacheries finished off his drink and beckoned for another. ‘There was no mould on the bones or wrappings, so they couldn’t have been in the lower tunnels for more than a day or two.’ The air in the active mine shafts was so hot and humid that mould was a constant problem.

‘Not a good sign, I grant you.’

‘There’s more.’ Eshreegar turned to an approaching servant and traded his empty bowl for a full one. ‘One of the survivors said he saw at least two war engines at the far end of the mine shaft. Big ones.’

Eekrit winced. ‘Any chance he could have been mistaken?’

‘Not likely. It was Joreel who spotted them. You remember him, don’t you? He was one of the old hands.’

The warlord’s tail lashed irritably. ‘Yes, I remember Joreel, damn it. It hasn’t been that long.’

Eshreegar snorted. ‘Thirty-five years, almost to the day,’ he said. He carefully avoided making eye contact with the warlord, but the tone in his voice said it all. Much has changed since then.

Indeed it had, Eekrit thought bitterly. With Velsquee incapacitated by his injuries and Hiirc dead, the task of saving the army had rested entirely in Eekrit’s paws. The days following the failed ambush at mine shaft four had been a nightmarish ordeal of chaos, confusion and death. By the time he had managed

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