Profit's Ruin (Kharadron Overlords Book 2) by C L Werner

Author:C L Werner [Werner, C L]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2020-01-10T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

‘Skaven above you!’ Agrilo shouted another warning, then rushed over to Esmira. He spun her around and pointed at the upper tier. Ratmen were creeping out from a hole in the keel above the breach the duardin had entered.

‘They’re going to trap them inside! You have to do something!’

Esmira shook her head, sorrow in her eyes. ‘There is nothing I can do,’ she said, and Agrilo could feel her shiver in his grip.

The fatalism in her tone infuriated Agrilo. ‘You have to try,’ he snapped. ‘Sing to those weeds. Send some vines to choke those rats!’

‘It won’t work,’ Esmira told him. She closed her eyes, though, and Agrilo could hear the faint sound of her incantation.

Around the back of the wreck, the foliage was in motion. Green tendrils shot towards the gash in the keel just as the first few ratmen were emerging. One of the skaven was caught by the vines, its verminous body crushed in the constricting grip. The others made no effort to rescue their comrade, but fled back into the darkness of the wreck. Agrilo clenched his fist in victory, certain that Esmira’s vines would keep the ratkin at bay.

His sense of triumph wilted inside him. Agrilo saw a cloud of yellow vapour explode around the vines. The tendrils writhed as the ­leprous cloud drifted across them. He saw ghastly black splotches spread across their stalks. Their leaves curled back into shrivelled husks. The vine holding the crushed skaven cracked under the creature’s weight and crashed down on the deck, nothing more now than a desiccated shell. The other vines sluggishly tried to draw back from the keel.

Now Agrilo saw a different kind of skaven come creeping forwards. This one’s body was encased in an oil-slick cloak and apron, its long face completely encased by a masked helmet. It had a big cylinder of metal strapped to its back and a big leather bag slung over its shoulder. From this bag, its gloved hand removed a sphere of some kind. Agrilo saw it toss the globe at the retreating vines. There was the sound of breaking glass as the projectile crashed against the deck just ahead of the vegetation. Another cloud of yellow gas erupted from the broken sphere and spilled across the vines. They withered under the poisonous vapour and pulled away from the keel entirely.

Agrilo knew why Esmira said it was useless. She already knew the skaven had a poison that could defeat the vines. Already he could see the masked ratman waving to its fellows, urging them onwards once more. A surge of verminous brown fur and sharp blades scurried out into the light.

‘They don’t care about us,’ Agrilo grumbled. ‘We’re too few to bother about when they can trap the crew.’ His words were bitter. He fingered his sword, knowing there was nothing he could accomplish by rushing the skaven except to get himself killed. He’d be no help to Brokrin and the others.

Or was that true? Agrilo swung around and grabbed Esmira’s arm.

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