Soulslayer (Gotrek Gurnisson: Warhammer Age of Sigmar Book 3) by Darius Hinks

Author:Darius Hinks [Hinks, Darius]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2022-04-30T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Three

Maleneth was about to rush back into the main crush of the battle when she saw something infuriating. There was quicksilver bubbling from her dead opponent’s neck and it was solidifying, forming into a shape. ‘Blades of Khaine,’ she hissed as the shape became a head made of liquid metal with blurred, half-formed features.

Maleneth kicked the man back into the crowds of Fyre­slayers and then gave up on him, marching through the fighting and looking for the Slayer. ‘Gotrek!’ she cried, dodging sword strikes and lashing out with her knives, opening wounds that were already healing as she moved on. ‘Where are you?’

Her bloodlust was fading and the charge of the Fyre­slayers had whipped up rust clouds, making it hard to see more than a few feet in any direction. The enemy were massively outnumbered so Maleneth was mostly surrounded by throngs of Fyre­slayers who were lashing out wildly with their axes, irrespective of whether they could actually find a foe to attack. There was no sign of Gotrek but, a hundred paces or so from where she was standing, she could see the hulking, fortress-like silhouette of one of the magmadroths. She sprinted towards it.

‘They’re heading for the standard!’ cried Thurgyn as Maleneth reached his magmadroth. The rune­father looked magnificent, like a burning idol, flames rippling down his muscles as he dealt out brutal, frenzied axe blows. Maleneth had never seen a Fyreslayer so consumed by rune-power. It was like watching Gotrek at his most incensed. The Varrukh near Thurgyn were equally wild, inspired by his wrath, hacking at the humans with their axes and firing volleys of magma, but it was all pointless: each time a Chaos warrior fell, he simply rose again, his body re-forming with a ripple of quicksilver.

‘Protect the banner!’ cried Runemaster Korgan, riding to Thurgyn’s side and waving the Fyre­slayers towards one of the standard bearers.

‘Where’s Gotrek?’ she called out.

Korgan shook his head and continued directing Fyre­slayers to the standard, but someone else answered Maleneth from the heart of the fighting. ‘Near the gates,’ cried Skromm, bludgeoning his way through the crush, a wild grin on his face.

Maleneth felt another surge of bloodlust. Skromm was revelling in the slaughter, heedless of anything except the joy of battle. His opponents rose as quickly as he cut them down but he did not mind. In fact, he seemed to delight in the idea of a foe he could kill more than once. All around Skromm there were crowds of Fyre­slayers who were behaving the same way. Their eyes were rolling like feeding sharks and their war cries were hoarse and wild. Maleneth wrenched her gaze from the bloodshed and ran towards the gates. Chaos warriors sauntered past her as she ran, dealing out lazy sword strikes and laughing. Some were fighting even while they were still re-forming, their limbs and features bubbling back into place as they lunged and stabbed.

Maleneth weaved between combatants, dealing out knife strikes as she ran, then spotted Gotrek near the wall of the keep.

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