The Pharisene Paradox by R S Wilt

Author:R S Wilt
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2022-09-08T14:03:27+00:00

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

R S Wilt made his first foray onto the battlefields of the Dark Millennium during the early days of Warhammer 40,000: Rogue Trader. A retired United States Army officer, he currently resides in Germany with his family.

An extract from Gothghul Hollow.

‘Glowing red eyes, they say, and huge. It’s as big as a man, with teeth as long as your palm. It’s the Curse of Null Island returned.’ Oskar shivered, though his face was lit with fascinated horror as well as the weak realmlight filtering through the darkening clouds. It would rain again soon, and Gothghul Hollow’s market would empty of patrons.

Pietr scoffed at his fellow trader’s words and rearranged his display of protective charms into a more pleasing configuration. ‘It’s a mere spirit-hound, nothing more. Hunters and priests will do for it – you mark my words. And that curse is idle gossip. Now let’s talk about something else before we frighten off any more customers.’ He smiled for the two women approaching his stall and stepped aside so they could see the black velvet cloth and the talismans arrayed upon it. ‘New protection amulets for your homes, gentlewomen, guaranteed against the loathsome undead. Hang them from the eaves and you’ll be safe.’

The women seemed sceptical at the promise, but they paused long enough to take a good look. Behind them and over the heads of the rest of the patrons, Gothghul Hollow’s houses rose crooked and cramped, slate roofs shining with moisture. Talismans hung from every eave and wards were carved upon every door.

There was a dart of movement from one of the crooked alleyways and Pietr flinched. Despite himself, the latest tales of the beast had made him jumpy. Only it wasn’t the hound of the moors, but a boy who darted between their stalls like a gheist.

‘Hey, you, get back here! Why, you thieving little…’ Oskar’s shout trailed into a grumble, but he made no effort to chase the boy, who stopped and looked back, grinning as he dangled a small amulet from his fingers. He hung it around his neck and dared a wink. Oskar shook his fist in the boy’s direction, but Pietr could see the glint of amusement in his eyes.

‘Do you ever make a profit, Oskar?’ he asked, somewhat offended by the other trader’s easy-going approach to theft. He didn’t wait for an answer, knowing he wouldn’t get one. Oskar usually lost a few of the smaller and weaker talismans every market day; the children knew he’d never chase them.

Pietr turned back to his customers, and a broad grin crossed his face as one of the women exclaimed over his ornamental blood-roses. ‘My own design,’ he murmured with a self-effacing little shrug. ‘If you catch it in the light at the right angle, you will see the amber itself has been engraved with a prayer to Nagash for health and wealth.’

He gestured for one of the women to pick up the item. She tilted it into the light from the glow-lamp standing on a tall pole behind the stall.

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