Lukas laughed. ‘And who decided that?’
‘You weaken them.’
‘You haven’t even seen them,’ Lukas said. ‘And come to that, it’s been almost a decade since I last saw them myself.’ He shook his head, scattering snow. ‘Or more than a decade. Time slips away when you’re not paying attention.’ He shrugged. ‘You don’t have to come with me.’
‘Yes, I do.’ Ake spat onto the ground. ‘We’re a pack, remember?’
‘Then by all means, follow along.’ Lukas hefted the elk up onto his shoulders with ease and started off through the snow. Every so often the ground shook and the branches cracked and shed ice. While Asaheim was more stable than the rest of the planet’s landmasses, it wasn’t by much.
The Blood Claws followed him. They walked in silence for a time, until Ake asked, ‘Do you do this often?’ It wasn’t quite an accusation.
‘What?’
‘Feed them. Coddle them.’ Ake peered at him. ‘They say you’ve been banished from the Aett at least six times over the past two centuries. Is this what you do with yourself when you’re out here alone?’
Lukas shifted the elk’s weight. ‘My interests are many and varied.’ He chuckled. ‘Sometimes I climb the highest peaks and just… sit, watching the stars chase one another across the heavens. Other times, I put on my helmet and go for a walk in the Worldsea.’ He glanced at Ake slyly. ‘I have even been to the Cavern Cities beneath the mountains.’
Ake hesitated, at a loss.
Halvar spoke up. ‘That is forbidden. One of Russ’ first edicts.’
Lukas nodded. ‘And with good reason, pups. There are monsters aplenty in those dark tunnels. No place for young Blood Claws.’ The smell of cooking fires and cut wood wafted through the trees. They were getting close.
‘These aren’t the only ones,’ he said after a moment. ‘Some, I don’t feed. Some, I torment. Only the ones that deserve it, obviously.’
‘Obviously,’ Ake said.
Lukas glanced at him. ‘Some of them become arrogant. The ones for whom we are more than myth. The favoured tribes. You know them as well as I do, pups. Ulrik has his pet tribes, as do the other priests. So too do the Wolf Lords, in their ineffable wisdom. We play at neutrality, but what warrior doesn’t favour his own bloodline?’
Kadir grunted. ‘Unlike you, most of us don’t remember ours.’
Lukas grinned. ‘Well, whose fault is that? Myself, I managed to avoid that by spreading my favours across many tribes.’ He laughed. ‘Those were good times.’
Ake frowned. ‘You don’t still…’
Lukas leered at him. ‘Still what? Play the divine visitor? Cloak myself in furs and trust in the hospitality of mortals, the way some do?’ He shrugged. ‘What of it?’
‘That wasn’t what I meant.’
‘I know. But you wouldn’t like the answer, so I avoided the question.’ Lukas stopped. The trees had thinned, and the slope had degraded into a hilly plain. The mountain rose up into the storm, and the walled steading at its base crouched warily among the foothills.
The forest had been cleared back from a stout palisade wall that encircled the steading. The wall was tall and thick, capable of surviving the attentions of an enemy tribe or a hungry troll. The steading straddled a river running down out of the mountain. Several tails of smoke rose above the walls.
‘Big,’ Einar grunted.
‘That’s what happens when you don’t have to run for the longships every thaw,’ Ake said somewhat bitterly. He spat. ‘They’re probably farmers.’
‘Someone has to grow the foodstuffs for other tribes to steal,’ Lukas said. ‘I’ll go alone from here. You five, stay here, out of sight.’ His tone brooked no argument, and, to their credit, they didn’t try. Not even Ake.
Satisfied, Lukas trudged across the uneven ground, scanning it instinctively for any sign of sentries. He didn’t expect there to be any, not out in the storm like this. While the sleeting rain felt like pinpricks on his bare face, to a mortal it would be like knives.
When he reached the wall, Lukas leapt, catching hold of the top of the palisade and hauling himself – and the elk – over with ease. He paused at the top. Contrary to Einar’s assertion, the steading wasn’t large – a few longhouses arranged around the river, in the protective shadow of the mountains. Just big enough to house a few extended families. Lukas’ own tribe hadn’t been much larger, even in good years.
The river was iced over but already starting to thaw. Thin serpents of smoke rose from the flues built into the roofs of the longhouses. There was no other sign of life. The temperature was more moderate here, and the mountains and trees blocked the worst of the wind, but it was still cold enough to form a sheath of frost on his armour when he stood in one spot for too long.
Lukas leapt from the palisade onto the nearest rooftop. He could hear faint singing rising up from below him. The soles of his boots scraped on the frosted thatch as he made his way carefully up the incline. He nearly lost his balance, and cursed softly. The roof creaked beneath his weight, but he had little fear of it breaking beneath him. Fenrisian craftsmanship wasn’t pretty, but it was tough. Just like the tribes themselves.
Lukas crept towards the nearest smoke flue and looked down through it. His enhanced senses easily pierced the thick folds of smoke, and he studied the inhabitants. They were singing and telling stories, loudly. The longhouse was crowded, but that was to be expected. Winter was cold, and more bodies meant more warmth. He could smell roasting meat and spilled mead, human sweat and the ripe odour of unwashed clothes.
He pulled the elk off his back and snipped the bindings. He gripped it by one leg and lowered it through the flue, swinging it gently. ‘And be welcome to it, my kinsmen,’ he growled softly. With a twitch of his arm, he sent the heavy body crashing down onto one of the tables below. Men and women cried out in alarm, and he laughed, low and long, as he ran back towards the palisade, not caring now who heard him.
Lukas heard the doors to the longhouse crash open as he leapt over the palisade. Then he was running back towards the forest, moving with inhuman speed. No mortal could match the quickness of a warrior of the Rout. Given the weather, they likely wouldn’t even be able to see him. Even so, he heard the hiss of arrows cutting through the snow. He laughed as he bounded through the trees.
The Blood Claws were waiting on him. ‘Think they’ll follow you?’ Kadir said, peering warily at the steading.
‘Would you, if you were them?’ Lukas shook his head. ‘No. They fear the forest, and with good reason.’
‘Cowards,’ Ake said.
Lukas looked at the young warrior. ‘Is that what you think?’
‘I would have hunted you,’ Ake growled pugnaciously.
‘Aye, maybe you would have.’ Lukas looked away, back towards the steading. He watched a knot of black figures hurry back to the safety of their hearths. ‘Have you pups ever wondered why we let them live like this? Why we let them suffer hardship and cruelty?’
‘To make them strong,’ Ake said, as if on cue.
Lukas laughed. ‘Pride,’ he said. ‘We have convinced ourselves that suffering builds character. Suffering builds nothing but walls. We settle for beasts when we could have men. All for pride.’ He looked around. ‘And that’s the biggest joke of all, pups. Best you remember that.’
Ake frowned. ‘I don’t think it’s funny.’
‘No.’ Lukas spread his arms. ‘Pride eats at us, every one. Like a maggot in a wound. Russ was proud, and so too must we be proud, whatever the consequences.’
‘We must endure, we must persevere, we must be worthy,’ Ake said stubbornly. ‘That is the way of it, Trickster. Else why were any of us chosen?’ He struck a tree with the side of his fist. ‘Because we survived. We were worthy.’
‘Survival is a test of nothing more than endurance. If it were anything else, I would never ha
ve been chosen, and yet I was. Luck.’ Lukas smiled as he spoke. This wasn’t the first time they’d had this argument since they were cast out of the Aett. Nor would it be the last. But at least they were listening. Maybe they had even learned something.
‘It has ever been thus,’ Halvar began.
Lukas laughed again, louder this time. ‘Maybe. But why?’ He brought his palms together in a loud crack. ‘Pride. Down here, mortals suffer for our pride. On other worlds, controlled by other Chapters, they live in peace. They don’t suffer as we suffer, and yet they produce warriors of equal skill.’ He noted the frustration in their faces. The lack of comprehension.
‘None are greater than the Rout,’ Dag said. Not angrily, but as if it were no more than simple fact. ‘We are the Allfather’s chosen warriors.’
‘Oh, we like to pretend that we are better – that our savagery makes us strong. But it’s a lie, told by old men who were themselves lied to by those who came before. Worst of all, we all know the lie for what it is. But we accept it, because to do otherwise is to admit that somewhere along the way we made a mistake.’ Lukas grinned. ‘More than one.’
Ake bared his teeth. ‘And your answer to this revelation is… What? Mockery?’
Lukas shrugged. ‘Can you think of a better response? We are nothing more than the largest, strongest pack of wolves on this frozen mud ball. And that is all we will ever be.’
‘A poor life,’ Halvar said. ‘Muddying the glories of others.’
‘Glory is for the dead,’ Lukas said. ‘The living must be reminded of that, so that they don’t lose themselves in sagas.’ He thumped his chest. ‘So that we don’t become that which we fear most – beasts, and worse than beasts, following a false scent to our doom.’ He pointed to the steading. ‘That is why I feed them. They are my pack, pups, as you are. Do you see?’
Looking at their faces, he knew they did not. Not really. Not yet. But they might, in time. He shrugged, and smiled. ‘Or maybe this is all a lie, a ruse to make my pranks seem more than they are. Maybe I am simply the spiteful Jackalwolf, content to rip at the guts of my own pack for my own amusement.’
‘The other one makes for a better saga,’ Dag said after a moment.
Lukas clapped him companionably on the shoulder. ‘That’s what I tell myself, brother.’ He smiled. ‘Now, I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry again. Let’s go find another elk.’ He grinned at Ake. ‘Maybe I’ll even let Ake make the kill this time.’
Chapter Nine
HUNTING GROUNDS
641.M41
Pinpoint lance fire obliterated the spinward augur platforms. Their destruction was timed down to the last micro-second to coincide with a solar flare from the system’s star. With a gap opened in the augur network, the Sky Serpents entered the Fenris system unnoticed, hidden behind mimic engines and shadow fields. They remained that way as they navigated the tumultuous celestial tides.
Sliscus lounged in his command throne on the bridge of the Incessant Agony, watching the frost-blue marble expand in the forward view screen. The world sang to him, luring him on. He longed to experience its pleasures. But other matters needed tending before then. ‘Prod the beasts,’ he said to a member of the crew standing attentively nearby. ‘Let us draw them from their lair.’
At his command, a second fleet, much smaller than the first, erupted into realspace near one of the gigantic semi-mobile star-forts that bracketed the world. Swarms of Razorwing jetfighters and Voidraven bombers would harass the star-fort before quickly withdrawing towards the edge of the system, where the Ribald Blade waited. The Torture-class cruiser was one of the three he had stolen upon his first exile from Commorragh. The cruiser and its escorts would make a show of putting up a fight when the system battlefleet responded before drawing the mon-keigh vessels away.
By the time they returned, Incessant Agony and the rest of his fleet would be safely hidden within the disruptive halo of the system’s central sun. From there, he could orchestrate similar raids at the few inhabited planets in the system, keeping the battlefleet occupied while he and his guests enjoyed themselves.
The trick wouldn’t fool the Wolves for long, a few weeks at most. But that was long enough. He reclined in his seat as the first reports came in. Contact was immediate, and bloody. He smiled.
‘Pleased with yourself?’ a feminine voice purred.
Sleg, looming beside his master’s command throne, stiffened with a hiss and rose up, his hands on the hilts of his weapons. Sliscus waved the ophidian back and said, ‘Always.’ He turned and looked at Lady Malys as she strolled across the command deck, alone. No kabalite guards were allowed here, not even those belonging to his subordinates.
She looked around at his assembled captains. ‘A motley crew, this, Traevelliath. They aren’t even all Commorrites.’ A mutter ran through them, and not a few angry glares were cast her way, much to Sliscus’ amusement.
Sliscus smiled. ‘Some of them play the part well enough. I don’t recall inviting you to the bridge, by the way.’ Only a few of his subordinates – the most favoured – had been invited to sit with him as they approached their chosen hunting grounds.
‘Oh, Traevelliath, you know I rarely let the lack of an invitation stop me,’ she said. ‘If I did, I would never go anywhere at all.’
‘I assumed you would be seeing to your own warriors. How many did you bring?’ Sliscus asked, turning his attentions back to the view screen.
‘Enough. Your assault bays are full of Raiders from more than half a dozen kabals, including mine. Reavers and Venoms as well. All waiting impatiently for the webway portals to open and allow them to spill out over this little world.’ She leaned against the back of his throne, her fan fluttering slowly to stir the air about her.
Sliscus caught sight of Myrta standing nearby. His courtesan waited with Jhynkar, attentive to his whims. She stood out even among the gaudy corsairs of his court. Myrta was a prize among prizes, and he favoured her with a fond smile. She didn’t return it. His smile widened and he turned back to Malys.
‘And your question is…?’
She snorted. ‘What exactly is your plan, Traevelliath, dear? You were most unforthcoming with the details earlier.’
‘No one else seems all that bothered.’
Malys looked down at him. ‘Then they are fools. Worse than fools. They may as well be cattle.’ She folded her fan and traced his cheek with it. He batted it aside.
‘They are simply excited. And why shouldn’t they be? This will be a most delightful outing, don’t you think? Look at it, Aurelia – isn’t it beautiful?’
‘It’s a world, like any of the thousand others we have plundered.’
Sliscus sighed. ‘You have no soul, Aurelia.’
She laughed. ‘Oh, but I do, Traevelliath. And I have worked very hard to ensure that it remains right where it is. Part of that is making sure that I ask the right questions when the opportunity presents itself.’ She stepped back and unfolded her fan. It was almost – but not quite – a challenge.
Sliscus pushed himself to his feet and turned to face her. His captains drew back, and he smiled tightly. He could almost smell their uneasiness, and the faint tang of anticipation. They were half hoping that she was planning on challenging him. They’d had hundreds, if not thousands, of successful raids under his aegis, but even so, they chafed. As he had chafed. But they lacked his courage, and so waited for others to make the first move.
But Malys wasn’t here to challenge him. No, he had known that the moment he saw her among his guests. She had come to him for help. He smiled indulgently and led her towards the tactical display plinth. Chained slaves squatted beneath it, inputting data as it reached their communications implants. With every twitch of their pale, thin fingers, the image of the world and what awaited the revellers there became clearer.
Other slaves waited nearby, trembling. They carried his armour
, a more utilitarian set than he had worn on Pok. The facets flashed, changing colour as he allowed the slaves to dress him. The ridged plates sliced through their palms and fingers as they worked, eliciting soft whimpers of pain. He drank it in with a sigh. ‘Tell me, Aurelia. How would you go about it?’
‘The entire planet is unstable,’ Malys murmured, studying the data. ‘Save this single continent.’ She expanded the view of the landmass that the humans called Asaheim, as he had known she would. ‘It makes for interesting hunting, at least.’
Sliscus nodded. ‘We shall require shelter from the storm, obviously. Some place from which to conduct our celebrations in a fitting manner. Ah, there.’ He tapped a marker on the map. His words were for Malys’ benefit. He had chosen the spot days earlier, after studying all the available information about Fenris gleaned from his library – he had pillaged hundreds of human worlds in his time, and had built quite the collection of tithe reports and data compilations. The mon-keigh were worthless beasts, but they kept fine records.
‘An isolated outpost of whatever passes for civilisation on this barbaric idyll. Far enough from the main hub of the mon-keigh to avoid notice, but still on relatively solid ground. The storm will interfere with their primitive planetary sensor net, and we can baffle their eyes easily enough.’ He smiled, pleased with his own cunning. ‘We shall nestle among them, and they will not see us until it is too late.’
‘Like a serpent, one might say,’ Malys said idly.
Sliscus looked at her. ‘A trifle obvious, Aurelia.’
She laughed. ‘But apt!’
Sliscus turned away. ‘Your wit grows dull, my sweet poisoned tongue. Perhaps you need cleverer partners to help you hone it.’
‘Is that an offer?’
Sliscus shrugged, still studying the map. ‘An offer of what? Speak plainly, Aurelia, or not at all. All this doublethink fatigues me.’
She quirked an eyebrow. ‘You could return to Commorragh. It has been too long since your last visit.’
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