Warhammer Anthology 07 by Way of the Dead

Author:Way of the Dead [Dead, Way of the]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

LUIS QUINTAL HAD no difficulty at all making his way back to the temple, now that he could see perfectly in the deepest darkness. Nor had he any fear of so doing, given that the ushabti had not made the slightest move against him. He did not suppose that the goblins posed any danger to him now, even if there were six of them waiting, with six orcs to back them up.

Even so, when he came to the doorway he hung back, content to remain in the shadows while he watched the progress of the battle.

He watched the ushabti close in with mechanical efficiency upon their immediate prey, not caring in the least whether they were cut about the belly. They did not act as individuals, but as components of the same intelligence. He deduced that they were not really alive; they were merely reanimate instruments of the evil god that had been worshipped here thousands of years before. Perhaps they were patchworks of the corpses of men and crocodiles, neatly sculpted into their new forms and placed in a state of suspended animation, like a kind of death without decay, from which they might be roused as puppets to do the bidding of their preserver.

I know you, Quintal said, silently, as he saw them remove weapons with clinical efficiency, from the greenskins’ hands. The greenskins had not known what kind of battle they were fighting, and they had wasted their thrusts, realising far too late that no anatomical elements were necessary to the movement or the nature of their monstrous adversaries.

Quintal really did feel that he knew something of the being into whose untender care he had delivered himself. Estalia was a ragged patchwork of rival city-states, but its best ports had long histories of trade with a rich variety of nations. Elves of the kingdoms of Ulthuan had been entertained in Magritta, as well as elves of a darker kind, who were more inclined to gossip.

Quintal knew that there were many names attached to malign gods by their various and multitudinous followers. The names referred to a mere handful of great powers, each one of which reflected a different kind of primal force: violent wrath; self-indulgent greed; intellectual ambition; and bilious envy. He had often said that if all roads led to damnation - as they certainly seemed to do - then he would rather follow the one that took him by the most luxurious route. Now, he felt that his unholy wish had been granted.

The captive greenskins continued calling to their free companions, advising them how to fight their uncanny opponents. Quintal knew that they had no altruistic motive in doing so; they were hoping for rescue. The advice was nevertheless good. The second party of goblins and orcs had only two bowmen, neither of them as accomplished as Memet Ashraf, but they were working at close range and the thick hind legs of the ushabti were more sizeable targets than their lean bodies. None of the

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