Empire At War (Warhammer Chronicles) by unknow

Author:unknow
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2022-10-08T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FOUR

BLOOD SPORTS

Music was drifting across the ruined landscape. As a merciful dusk fell over the crumbling farms and villages, chords echoed through the smoking wreckage and as the three riders steered their mounts north, ghostly harmonies drifted out of the dark to meet them.

Wolff rode up the side of a hill to find the source of the strange noise. ‘Hired swords,’ he said, beckoning to Anna and Ratboy to come and see. They rode up beside him and saw a merry trail of lights snaking through the hills towards them. Several regiments of soldiers were travelling north. Proud, armoured knights on barded mounts. Over their heads fluttered banners bearing a symbol Ratboy didn’t recognise: a pair of bright yellow swords, emblazoned on a black background. The men wore the most incredible uniforms Ratboy had ever seen. Huge, plumed hats and elaborately frilled collars, all dyed with a yellow pigment so bright that even the chill gloom of an Ostland evening failed to dampen its cheeriness.

‘Who are they?’ he asked, turning to his master.

Wolff wrinkled his nose with distaste. ‘Southerners,’ he muttered.

‘Southerners?’ asked Ratboy. ‘From Reikland?’

Wolff shook his head. ‘No. They’re a long way from home, by the looks of them. Averland, maybe, although half of them look like Tilean free­lancers. Sigmar knows what would drag them so far north, but I’m glad to see them here – whatever the reason.’ He leant forward in his saddle and peered through the darkness. ‘Although, I fear their general may have already been injured. See how he rolls in his saddle?’

Ratboy and Anna followed Wolff’s gaze. Near to the front of the regiment, surrounded by standard bearers and musicians rode a knight whose armour was even more ornate than the others. His winged helmet was trimmed with gold, and as he lolled back and forth on his horse, the metal flashed in the moonlight, drawing attention to his lurching movements.

‘Strange music for times such as these,’ said Anna.

The drummers and pipers that surrounded the general were skipping merrily through the long grass, oblivious to the gentle Ostland rain that was banking over the hills. They were playing a jig and the snatches of song that reached Wolff and the others sounded oddly raucous. In the face of the shattered homes and towers that covered the landscape, it seemed almost disrespectful.

Wolff nodded. ‘Indeed.’ He turned his horse around to face the shambling figures that were staggering up the hillside behind them. Raphael was too weak to walk, so the rest of the flagellants had fashioned a makeshift litter to drag him along on. As they climbed slowly towards the priest, the sound of their whips could be clearly heard, along with their frantic prayers. ‘Just a little further,’ he called out to them. ‘There’s an army ahead. I must speak with the general. Wait here and I’ll send word if it’s safe to approach.’

Raphael waved weakly in reply.

Anna watched as the penitents stumbled towards them. She shook her head in dismay at the awful violence they were inflicting on their own flesh.

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