The Freelancer by Robert Rath

Author:Robert Rath
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-10-22T17:33:06+00:00

About the Author

Robert Rath is a freelance writer from Honolulu who is currently based in Hong Kong. Though mostly known for writing the YouTube series Extra History, his credits also include numerous articles and a book for the U.S. State Department. He is the author of the Black Library novel The Infinite and the Divine, and the short stories ‘The Garden of Mortal Delights’ and ‘War in the Museum’.

An extract from The Blood Bowl Omnibus.

From where he stood at the edge of the field, Pegleg looked at his bench. His gaze sliced through each of the players, evaluating them one by one.

Dunk felt Pegleg consider him for a moment and then move on, and he couldn’t tell if he was relieved or disappointed. The other scrubs sat frozen stiff, afraid to attract their coach’s attention with the slightest movement. Beside him, Dunk could hear Simon whispering a mantra over and over again: ‘Don’t pick me. Don’t pick me. Don’t pick me.’

Dunk looked up at Pegleg and saw the coach glaring down at him, a pitiless smile on his face. ‘Mr. Hoffnung,’ Pegleg said, pointing his hook at the rookie. ‘You’re in.’

Dunk surprised himself by leaping up and darting out of the dugout to stand next to Pegleg. ‘Who am I in for, coach?’ he asked.

Pegleg lowered his head and rubbed his eyes with his good hand. A low moan emanated from the other side of the dugout where an apothecary, a tall thin man wearing a grimy, once-white coat and a pair of magnifying glasses over his eyes, was working on Karsten.

‘No leeches!’ the lineman screamed. ‘No leeches!’

‘It’s that or the bone drill,’ the apothecary wheezed. As he spoke, he put down the slimy green things flopping about in his fists and picked up a vicious-shaped metal device. As he spun its handle, the blood-caked tip whirred and clacked. Dunk had never heard such a horrible threat.

‘Leeches!’ Karsten said. ‘By Nuffle’s dirty cleats, I’ll take my chances with the leeches!’

‘But Karsten’s a lineman,’ Dunk said. ‘I’m a thrower. What about Guillermo?’ The rookie looked back over his shoulder to see the new lineman drawing a finger under his throat at Dunk. He wasn’t sure if Guillermo meant for him to be quiet or that the lineman wanted to kill him. Maybe both.

‘You’re my man, Mr. Hoffnung,’ Pegleg said. ‘Don’t question my judgment – ever.’

‘Aye, coach,’ Dunk said with a snappy salute.

Pegleg glared at the rookie as if he couldn’t tell if the salute was in mockery or earnest. Then he looked out at the field and said, ‘No matter. Make your peace with Nuffle, Mr. Hoffnung, and welcome to your first game of Blood Bowl.’

Armed with some hurried instructions from his coach, Dunk strapped on his helmet and charged out on to the field. The crowd cheered as he raced toward his designated spot, right near the midfield line. Dunk raised his hands in the air to encourage them.

‘What do you think you’re doing?’ Dirk said, standing opposite from Dunk across the line.

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