Lukas the Trickster

by Josh Reynolds

  Flames shot across its hull as it shook and tumbled through the air, striking trees and the ground like a child’s toy. Without waiting for Lukas, he leapt from the dying vessel. He struck the ground, but a moment later rolled awkwardly to his feet, his armour’s servos groaning. He didn’t see Lukas anywhere. The skiff struck a rocky scree and flames blazed up, bright against the snow.

  The surviving eldar were rising to their feet as well. Fewer of them had died in the crash than he had hoped. ‘Take them!’ Kadir bellowed. They were practised killers, and moving already. His chainblade thudded down, narrowly missing his chosen opponent. The xenos moved like black lightning, whirling and slashing with the curved blade it wielded. Kadir found himself disarmed in a moment, the blade spinning from his hands to embed itself in the ice nearby. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ake and the others fall on the eldar, bursting from the snow to pounce on their disorientated prey.

  Kadir fell back, absorbing the blows on the ceramite plates that protected his forearms. He grunted at the force of the eldar’s attack. It laughed harshly as it pressed its assault. It must have thought him helpless because he lacked weapons.

  Its blade skidded forward, drawing fat sparks from the ceramite. At the last moment he thrust his arm up and away, smacking the weapon aside. Before the eldar could recover, he lunged. His free hand caught it in the throat, and its armour crumpled in his grip. It clawed for the pistol-weapon on its hip, hissing curses. Kadir snapped its neck before it could draw the weapon. He tossed the body aside and turned to retrieve his blade.

  As he wrenched the weapon free of the ground, a shot glanced off his shoulder-plate. He spun, slinging his blade like a discus. It bisected the alien warrior before clattering off a nearby tree. Kadir cursed and hurried to reclaim it. The whine of engines was growing louder. Lukas’ trick had been loud, and the plume of fire lit up the night for leagues in every direction. He could hear the others cursing and fighting.

  As he snatched up his blade, a smaller vehicle – a bulky jetbike with several eldar perched on its hull – shot into view. Its weapons spat, and he lunged behind a tree. The jetbike slewed past, its pilot skilfully manipulating the controls to avoid slamming into the trees. As Kadir hurtled away, its weapon chewed the ground in his wake.

  The vehicle sped after him at breakneck speed, easily sweeping past him. As it did so, one of the xenos clinging to its side loosed a loop of barbed chains hooked to the jetbike’s hull. The coil caught Kadir’s armour and he staggered. He managed to retain his footing for a moment, but the snow crumbled underfoot and he was yanked off his feet despite the weight of his armour.

  He slammed into a tree, and then another. His teeth rattled in his jaws and his bones quivered with each impact. Desperate, he blindly whipped out his blade. It bit deep into the trunk of a tree, and Kadir held tight to it, trying to pull himself free of the chains. The jetbike plunged on, the chain playing out until it hauled taut. There was an echoing shriek of abused metal. Kadir felt himself losing his grip on his chainblade, and with a roar he caught hold of the chain and twisted, trying to buy himself some leverage. The tree creaked as his weapon began to work itself free, chewing the bark to pulp.

  There was a flash, and Kadir whipped around, suddenly free. He crashed into the tree and tumbled to the ground, his blade landing beside him. He saw Lukas racing towards him, smoking plasma pistol in one hand. The Trickster veered away as the jetbike sped to intercept him. Its splinter cannon fired, shredding trees. As it shot past Kadir, he shoved himself to his feet and caught the broken length of chain.

  He quickly looped it around a tree. It pulled tight and the jetbike shuddered. Its engines moaned like a lost soul, and several of the eldar leapt off as the pilot fought to keep the vehicle steady. The one standing on the rear platform attempted to spin the splinter cannon around to fire at the chain.

  Lukas tackled the eldar off the firing platform. The ones who had already dropped to the ground moved to attack the Trickster, but Kadir reached them first. As he blocked a blow, he saw Lukas grasp a dark eldar by the ankle and sling the squalling xenos into a tree. Kadir dispatched another one with brutal efficiency, his blade whipping out in a tight, roaring arc to crunch through its thin frame and send it tumbling to the ground, broken.

  He ducked as the chain snapped at last. The broken end caught the remaining eldar in the head, killing it instantly. That left only the pilot. Flames washed across the jetbike’s canopy as it tried to shoot away, engulfing the screaming xenos. The vehicle crashed and slid, scattering burning debris to mark its trail. Einar stepped past the wreckage, the light casting bands of shadow across his helmet. ‘Alive?’ he called.

  ‘If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t ache this much,’ Kadir said, rotating his arm. Something had pulled loose inside him – he could feel a stiffness that hadn’t been there before. He would heal, thankfully. He looked down at the bodies and spat. ‘Xenos filth.’

  ‘Eldar,’ Lukas said. His armour, like Kadir’s, was streaked with blood.

  ‘That’s what I said,’ Kadir growled, kicking a body onto its back. ‘What is it doing here? This is Fenris, not some backwater frontier world!’

  ‘Hunting,’ Lukas said. Kadir and Einar followed him through the trees, back towards the downed Raider. Ake and the others stood around it, their weapons wet with blood. The eldar were dead. Hetha and her companions huddled nearby, staring at the bodies as if not quite believing that the creatures were no longer a threat.

  ‘I know this breed. They drink suffering as we drink mjod,’ Lukas said softly, staring at the bodies on the burning hull. For once, he wasn’t smiling. None of them were. The kill-urge was gone from them as quickly as it had come.

  Lukas began to remove the pitiful remnants from the hull, avoiding the flames that still licked at the crumpled metal from within. He did so with more care than Kadir had ever known him to display, and he moved to follow suit.

  ‘Why waste time on the dead?’ Ake spat. ‘This filth didn’t come here alone.’

  Lukas turned, a body cradled in his arms. ‘We waste the time because someone must,’ he growled, low and fierce. ‘Fenris is ours, pup, and we are responsible for it. Responsible for them. These have suffered twice over what you or I did when we endured the tests of Morkai.’ His voice rose to a snarl. ‘They have earned your respect.’

  Kadir glanced at the woman, Hetha. She trembled, staring at the bodies. She was born of Fenris, and so did not flinch from death. But this wasn’t death. It was agony. The monsters of the sea and ice didn’t normally torment their prey. He looked at Lukas. ‘Ake is right. There will be more of them, somewhere.’

  ‘I know,’ Lukas said. ‘Which is why we need to alert the Aett.’ He smiled at the expression on Kadir’s face. ‘What? You thought I would insist on hunting them myself? I might be the oldest Blood Claw in the Rout, brother, but I’m not an idiot. Grimblood and the other jarls must know of this. Fenris must be defended.’

  Kadir shook his head. ‘We have been banished, remember?’

  Lukas snorted. ‘And so? I come and go as I please. I know ways into the mountain that no one else does. Secret, swift routes. Forgotten roads. All easy enough to reach if you have the wit.’ He tapped the side of his head. ‘Still, we will need proof.’ He looked at Hetha. ‘You will return to your tribe, little one. We will rouse the Wolves.’

  ‘My people–’ she began hesitantly.

  ‘Will be safe. Won’t they, Kadir?’

  Kadir looked at him, puzzled. ‘What?’

  ‘You and the others will escort these mortals back to their tribe. Then you will watch over them. Guard them. I’ll take Halvar with me.’ Lukas turned to Hetha. ‘Send runners to the closest tribes, even those you’re at war with. Most will have already moved to escape the rising sea, but some won’t. Alert them.’ He looked at Kadir and the others. ‘You will accompany the runners. I want the tribes aware of what lurks in the night
.’

  ‘And if they don’t listen?’ Kadir asked.

  ‘Be persuasive.’ Lukas’ grin was wide and savage. ‘Grimblood thought he was going to have an easy time of it with us gone. I can’t wait to see the look on his face when we dump these bodies in his lap.’

  Chapter Twelve

  CROSS PURPOSES

  641.M41

  The great beasts ran across the ice. Growths of abnormal muscle stretched across twisted lupine frames, lending strength and an exceptional grace. They ploughed through the curtain of icy rain, leaping heavily over the splintering dunes of ice. In places the white expanse had been ruptured by tectonic pressures or falling meteors. The ice bucked and cracked beneath their massive paws, throwing up typhoons of freezing water. But they didn’t slow, and their howls split the air.

  The dark eldar Raider coursed in their wake, following close behind the fleeing pack. The occasional shot from a splinter cannon served to keep the beasts from scattering into the storm. The vessel’s anti-gravity fields kept the worst of the weather off its passengers and crew, though the craft couldn’t avoid being buffeted by the high winds.

  ‘And they were once mon-keigh, you say?’ Malys asked, mildly interested in the loping beasts. ‘How intriguing. Some sort of failed attempt at fleshcrafting?’

  ‘Genetic, if Jhynkar is to be believed,’ Sliscus said, sipping from his goblet. They sat together at a table at the prow of the Raider. Slaves waited on them attentively, several holding a weather screen aloft. ‘What you see before you is the result of the primitive alchemy the mon-keigh insist on referring to as ‘science’. They take men and make them monsters.’

  ‘But not on purpose?’

  ‘No,’ Sliscus said with an air of incredulity. ‘Can you imagine?’

  ‘Quite well. You have seen what the humans are capable of when left to their own devices. Fiendishly clever little apes.’

  ‘Yes, some more than others.’ Sliscus had bargained with and butchered humans enough to know that they had a certain cunning. Not equal to his own, but easily exceeding that of many noble archons of his acquaintance. Still, cunning or not, they were nothing more than prey.

  He looked out over the rail, watching the beasts flee before him. Two other Raiders kept pace with his own, their anti-gravity engines carrying them silently across the ice. Their crews shouted and cheered, eager to make the kill. Jhynkar was aboard one with his wracks, while Myrta commanded the other.

  He smiled at the thought of the latter. Like Malys, she was a clever woman. Too clever, too sharp. She had been forced to kill a number of rivals since they had started the festivities. Occasionally, one of his captains took umbrage at being ordered about by one they took to be a mere servant.

  Despite the deaths, the hunt was going well. The storm made for ideal cover and added a certain thrill to the aerial pursuits of the Reavers and hellions. Watching them smash into one another, or be blown into a looming crag, proved to be of modest entertainment.

  The primitive humans who occupied many of the semi-stable landmasses made for good sport. Such brutes rarely had the wit to flee, and instead tried to fight. Such bravery often led to a bounty of fear, pain and despair. His guests attacked night by night, never for long, and only taking what plunder they could easily carry.

  Some, like Archon Thyndrak, were more particular about what they sought. She and others had focused their efforts on the scattered training camps of the Space Marines that dotted the foothills and valleys of the main continental landmass. These ‘aspirants’, as they were called, made for deadly sport. Thyndrak had some notion of capturing as many as possible for her arenas. Sliscus wished her well, but had little interest in risking so much for so little gain. He had no need of such imperfect meat when hardier fare was close to hand.

  He leaned forward, watching as his prey ran themselves to death. The wolf-things were beautiful, in their way. The epitome of function over form. That such creatures had come to exist by accident only proved the malign indifference of the universe. They would find life more satisfying by far in his gardens. If they survived the next few moments, at least.

  ‘How long, do you think, before someone makes a mess of this wonderful outing of yours?’ Malys gestured towards one of the nearby Raiders with her fan.

  ‘A few more days, at least.’

  ‘You don’t seem concerned.’

  ‘Why should I be?’ Sliscus laughed. ‘We will be long gone by the time our hosts realise the scale of what they face.’ He shook his head. ‘This is not an invasion. It is a raid. There is no goal here save indulgence. We will hunt and enjoy ourselves for what time we can. Then you will return to the stultifying safety of the Dark City, there to lose yourselves in lesser pleasures.’

  ‘Is that truly how you see the city of your birth, Traevelliath? As a cage?’

  Sliscus sighed. ‘Do you know why I left Commorragh the first time, Aurelia?’

  ‘I know the rumours that fly about like gloomwings wherever archons gather. Some say that you were one of Vect’s bastards, and that when you learned the truth, he tried to have you killed. Others, that you are the last of the old aeldari bloodlines, and that you left to rebuild the empire, one realm at a time.’

  ‘And what do you say, my dear?’

  Malys paused. ‘You were bored. Tired of the same games, on the same board. We play them so often that the moves and gambits have become instinct.’

  Sliscus nodded. ‘Vect rules because the rest of you are so obsessed with the game that you cannot see beyond the board. You cannot see that the only way to win is simply not to play.’ He gave an elegant shrug. ‘You are right, of course. I was bored. Nothing more.’

  ‘I’m surprised Vect never came after you.’

  ‘Why would he?’ Sliscus smiled, and Malys laughed.

  ‘Ah. That clears that up. It’s true, then. Those ships of yours weren’t stolen, were they? Vect gave them to you.’

  Sliscus grinned. ‘Say, rather, he let me steal them.’

  ‘And how many upstarts like Xomyll have you tweaked and later butchered?’

  Sliscus didn’t reply. He could almost see the wheels turning in her head. This was always the part he enjoyed the most – that moment of revelation as they realised just how cunning he truly was. But, as ever, Malys was full of surprises. Rather than the obvious question, she simply asked, ‘And now?’

  ‘Now what?’

  ‘Are you bored again? It has been several centuries, Traevelliath, dear. Enough time that even you might once more long for the shadows of Commorragh.’

  ‘And why would you be interested in that?’

  Malys fluttered her fan. ‘Suppose I were to offer you the chance to once again enjoy the largesse of the Eternal City?’

  ‘At your side,’ Sliscus said.

  ‘Where better?’

  ‘That depends entirely on the situation.’ Sliscus leaned forward. ‘You would not be here if you did not need me. Ergo, I have the advantage.’ He dipped his finger in the goblet. Delicately sucking the liquid from his digit, he continued. ‘One thing I have learned in my time as a corsair is to always exploit every advantage to the fullest.’

  Malys sat back. ‘I’m not the only one who has sought your aid, am I? How many of them, Traevelliath?’

  ‘Why… all of them, my dear. Every single guest, save those I killed, obviously. They all want something from me – that’s why they came.’

  ‘Obviously. I simply assumed you would know better than to align yourself with such lesser lights.’ She frowned. ‘Though you never have been what one could call sensible.’

  Sliscus laughed. ‘Oh, you wrong me, Aurelia. You really do.’ He turned in his seat, looking at the captives who hung from agoniser-racks mounted on the deck. The racks were an invention of Jhynkar’s – thin frames to which captives could be manacled and then wired into a multiplicity of pain
amplifiers, tox-injectors and chem-pumps. A handful of native Fenrisians hung from them, their bodies marked by bloody welts and bruises. Their moans had dwindled to silence, and he frowned speculatively.

  ‘Is that why you held this little party, then? To tease your many suitors?’ Malys paused. ‘Or perhaps as a way to winnow out those who might prove a danger to Asdrubael?’

  Sliscus stood, drawing a knife from his sash. Malys tensed, but Sliscus had eyes only for the captives. ‘No. Merely to exploit every advantage,’ he said simply. ‘You are right, of course. I am bored. But that doesn’t make me a fool, Aurelia. I’m no revolutionary. Vect is a fine enough tyrant, and I am quite content to leave his narrow posterior firmly affixed to his garish throne. Why should I trouble myself, when he no more rules me than I rule him?’

  ‘And the bounty on your head?’

  ‘It is for show, mostly. I doubt he would weep to see me dead. But only the stupid and the ambitious would seek to claim it. By killing them, I aid him in separating the weak from the strong. Indeed, by abetting his tyranny, as I do, I ensure my own freedom from it.’ He pointed the knife at her. ‘You should take a lesson from that, really.’

  Malys frowned. ‘Now you presume to teach me lessons in subtlety?’

  Sliscus snorted and turned to the captives. ‘I would not presume to teach you anything, my dear.’ Flesh parted, and one of the cattle whimpered. Sliscus clucked his tongue. ‘Stay still. How am I supposed to finish this stanza if you keep squirming?’

  ‘You owe me,’ Malys said, as if it were no more than a statement of fact.

  ‘We owe each other nothing, and I have no reason to endanger myself in serving your ends. Were the situation different, I might, in fact, bow to the yoke of honour.’

  It was Malys’ turn to snort derisively. ‘What do you know of honour, Traevelliath?’