Forged by Chaos (Warhammer Fantasy) by C L Werner

Author:C L Werner [Werner, C L]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Black Library
Published: 2011-09-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

‘Another one,’ Kormak growled, letting the corpse slip slowly from his grip. The body slopped into the frozen puddle of its own entrails. Before a southling lance had opened its belly, the carrion had been a warrior of the Raven Host, its arm bearing the scar that marked it as one of Jodis Wolfscar’s men. It was the third the small warband had discovered since entering the winding, snow-swept valleys beyond the plain of clay.

A green membrane slid closed over the eyes of Vakaan Daemontongue as the magus concentrated upon his conjurations. The vile monkey-like familiar gibbered and scrabbled about the sorcerer’s shoulders. Abruptly the membrane slid back, revealing the magus’s distant gaze.

‘The dark elves mirror our steps,’ Vakaan said. ‘I can sense them. They are not so far now.’

Steel creaked as Urbaal tightened his fist. ‘Then they should make peace with their stinking gods,’ the Chosen spat. ‘Nothing mortal defies Urbaal the Corruptor twice.’

Vakaan held out his staff, blocking the armoured champion as he turned to stalk off. ‘There will be time enough for vengeance later,’ he promised. ‘It is more important that we find Jodis Wolfscar and the Bastion Stair. Even if the dark elves are seeking the relic, even if they capture it from the southlings, it will be useless to them unless they journey to the Bastion Stair and the Portal of Rage.’

Anger smouldered in the Chosen’s eyes, but gradually he relented to the wisdom of the magus. ‘First we run Tchar’zanek’s errand, then we kill elves,’ he agreed.

Kormak watched the exchange carefully. At Urbaal’s promise of revenge, the Norscan stepped away from the gutted body of Wolfscar’s warrior. His right arm shifted into the semblance of a fanged claw. The mutant limb clacked open with a meaty slobber. ‘Just remember, the naked wench with the daggers is mine,’ he snarled. The marauder’s claw snapped shut with bone-snapping force.

‘Now the slave makes threats?’

Kormak rounded on the tattooed Tolkku, fangs lengthening in his face as he growled at the zealot. ‘More than threats, she-ling!’ The marauder swung his claw at the Kurgan, but found the blow arrested before it could land. He twisted his head to find Urbaal’s hand gripping his claw, the Chosen’s sword at his throat.

‘The Kurgan’s words are wind,’ Urbaal’s deep voice stated. ‘It is a fool who wastes his energy fighting wind. A fool is of no use to me, or the Raven Host.’

Kormak glared into the skull-face helm of the Chosen, locking his eyes with the fiery glow behind the visor. It was the Norscan who at last relented. The claw Urbaal held shifted and shortened, becoming a brawny arm once more.

‘If you kill me, slave, who will see to your hurts?’ the zealot’s scornful voice jibed. Tolkku held another of his skulls in his hands now, a strange yellow thing with a thin coating of papery skin stretched tight about it and lips that were tightly sewn shut. The Kurgan had his dagger poised to cut the stitching. Kormak could only wonder at the kind of magic Tolkku was ready to unleash.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.