The Red Feast - Gav Thorpe

by Warhammer

  ‘It’s been two days,’ sighed Nerxes.

  ‘Two days of your constant whining, Threx,’ added Vourza.

  Around them, a hundred and twenty goats continued to nibble at the ochre-bladed grass, occasionally letting out a bleat or fart.

  ‘At least it’s not digging out the soil works below Ashabarq,’ added Nerxes.

  ‘We’d be doing something,’ argued Threx. ‘Adult work. We should be hunting. Or raiding! Yes, that’s what we should do. We’ll get some blade-happy folk together and get our goats back from the Fireborn.’

  ‘No,’ said Vourza. ‘The Ashen King was clear. If we take up a weapon we lose a hand. I’m not losing my hand for you, Threx.’

  ‘What about you, Foraza?’ Threx turned to his former standard bearer with a hopeful look. He had some long grass in his hand and was slowly stripping the seeds from the stems with his thumbnail, gazing across the Asha Vale. ‘Let’s cut up some Fireborn whelps for what they’ve done to us.’

  ‘Shut up,’ said Foraza, not turning around.

  ‘What? Don’t take that tone with me,’ growled Threx. ‘I will be Ashen King one day!’

  Foraza stood up and faced Threx, fingers curling into fists.

  ‘My mam don’t talk to me, Threx. My little brother, he spat at me. My dad makes me sleep on the street. He said we don’t have no vowbreakers under our roof.’ He took a step forward. ‘That’s your fault, Threx. Stop yapping.’

  ‘What did you say?’ hissed Threx, voice dropping. ‘You call me a dog? You were nothing before I gave you my banner to carry, ungrateful boar!’

  Foraza lunged, a meaty fist connecting with Threx’s chin. He had turned with the blow and barely kept his feet, just long enough for a second punch to connect with the left side of his back, straight into his kidney. Snarling with pain, Threx fell to a knee, teeth gritted.

  The others closed on him like a pack of plains dogs around a wounded calf. Threx looked at them and saw murderous anger in their eyes.

  ‘Maybe the Ashen King will pardon us if we rid him of his stupid son,’ said Vourza. Her hand moved to the knife at her waist but she did not yet pull it free.

  ‘If it stops him whining, maybe cut that flapping tongue out.’ Foraza flexed his fingers, keeping his distance for the moment.

  ‘There’s not one of you that’s my match.’ Threx straightened, eyeing each of them.

  ‘Didn’t seem that way when we saved you from Yourag’s giant,’ said Vourza. ‘I think we’ve been carrying you, Threx. I think you owe us, not the other way round.’

  ‘You misled us,’ said Nerxes. ‘We’ve been dishonoured because of your vanity, cousin. And you don’t learn, you never do. You want us to go raiding now? We’d be staked out in the river for that.’

  ‘So you’re turning on me too, cousin? Does our blood mean nothing?’

  ‘Not to you, since you would spill mine to sate your own hunger for glory.’

  ‘Is glory so bad?’ Threx shrugged. ‘What else should we die for? Goats? Seed? Fish guts? Our enemies will come and come again, and again. They’ll take what they want every time and my weakling of a father will watch them do it.’

  ‘You shouldn’t speak like that about the Ashen King,’ warned Foraza.

  ‘He’s a coward!’ Threx wiped his hands across the stubble of his head and flicked the sweat from his fingertips. ‘Too cowardly to kill me himself.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ said Nerxes.

  ‘You call me an idiot, but you don’t see it? That’s why he sent you to the pastures with me. How many warriors marched with us, but he picked out the three of you.’

  ‘Because we were foolish enough to be your friends,’ said Nerxes.

  ‘Not any more,’ said Foraza.

  ‘Exactly! Punish you so that you’ll punish me more. He wants you to hate me, but I didn’t make you leave Ashabarq. I didn’t drag you to Wendhome. I didn’t hear any one of you complain that we were taking warriors from the vale.’

  He turned away in disgust.

  ‘If you’re going to stab me, do it now, in the back like a true betrayal. I’m not going to give you the honour of a fight.’

  He heard steps, the long stride of Foraza, and the sound of metal sliding against leather. A shadow fell over him but he refused to turn around.

  ‘Wait,’ said Nerxes.

  ‘For what?’ growled Foraza. The footsteps scuffed to a halt.

  ‘Threx is right. The Ashen King singled us out. A thousand blades left with us. Why pick out the three of us?’

  ‘Because we’re close to Threx,’ said Vourza.

  ‘We’re being used. The Ashen King is punishing us to drive us away from each other. He’s using us to get at our friend.’

  ‘And?’ Foraza’s shadow receded. ‘What’s your point?’

  ‘I don’t think I have one,’ confessed Nerxes. ‘It just seems wrong to me. And we certainly shouldn’t be killing anybody.’

  ‘Do you think I would do the same to you?’ asked Threx, pivoting on his heel to face the others. ‘If we swapped places, would I put the boot into you when you were down?’

  Foraza looked at him and then at the knife in his hand. He sheathed the blade with an apologetic smile.

  ‘No. You wouldn’t.’

  ‘So that’s it?’ said Vourza. ‘We just stare at goats for who knows how long until the Ashen King changes his mind?’

  ‘And every day our shame grows,’ added Threx. ‘The Ashen King wants people to laugh at us. He’s shielding his weakness with us.’

  ‘What weakness?’ Vourza glanced around as though the ruler of the Skullbrands might descend upon them that moment. ‘That’s not the first time you’ve said that.’

  ‘He refuses to fight,’ said Threx. He looked at Nerxes. ‘How many blades did we leave in the vale, do you think?’

  ‘Twelve hundred, I reckon,’ replied his cousin. ‘Most of them young, but there was still your uncle’s Hall Guards. Three hundred of the best fighters in Asha Vale.’

  ‘Enough to scare off the Fireborn, I think.’

  ‘I would think so too. The Fireborn saw us leave and thought they had an opportunity. Nothing suggests that they were expecting an actual battle. A show of force might have deterred them.’

  ‘And now others will be encouraged,’ said Vourza. ‘You let one tribe steal from you, the rest of the dogs will come sniffing around.’

  ‘And we’re stuck defending the vale, because you know there are eyes on us all the time now,’ added Nerxes. ‘Not just physical ones either. Every scrye-stone and pyroseer across the Flamescar Plateau is going to be looking at us, seeking a time to strike.’

  Threx was about to continue when movement on the lower slope caught his eye. A handful of people were toiling up the hillside towards them, one of them his uncle, Atraxas, the other four wearing armour and the ash-coloured cloaks of the Hall Guards.

  ‘More trouble?’ said Foraza.

  ‘Maybe it’s good news,’ said Nerxes, earning himself scowls from the others. ‘It could be!’

  They waited in the shade of a solitary buros tree, sitting beneath its low branches. Threx kept an eye on the wandering goats and another on the approaching warriors. He didn’t like the look of either.

  ‘Wait here,’ Threx said when Atraxas passed through the gate in the stone wall that bounded the upper pasture.

  He met them a few dozen paces inside the wall, arms crossed, feet planted as though they intruded upon the lands of a rival tribe.

  ‘What do you want?’

  Atraxas signalled for his warriors to hang back and approached within a few paces. He wore a long sleeveless mail coat, girded about the waist with a sash of grey, the same colour as the cloak that hung from his back. As captain of the Hall Guard, his tunic and cloak were edged with gilt thread, decorated with a flame design. High boots fronted with iron plates protected his lower legs, each capped with steel toes cut into a similar fire motif.

  ‘Mind that tone with me,’ he said, one h
and resting on his sword pommel, the other with a thumb tucked in the opposite side of the waistband.

  ‘Is there a reason I should?’

  ‘I’ll put you on your back again, and this time maybe leave you with more than a bent nose to remember it.’

  Threx wanted to call the old man’s bluff but held back. Atraxas hadn’t come here for a fight, and Threx wanted to know his purpose. He’d sooner be eaten by ants than ask, and held his tongue as he sullenly regarded his uncle.

  ‘The Ashen King summons you,’ said Atraxas.

  ‘You could have sent a herald-child with that message, uncle,’ said Threx.

  He pointedly looked at the armed warriors a short distance away, and then back at his companions who were lounging by the tree. They were trying to appear uninterested and were failing badly, given away by frequent glances towards the pair.

  ‘Expecting trouble?’

  ‘Just come to the Hall of the Pyre, Threx.’ Atraxas turned away and started back towards his soldiers.

  ‘When I’m ready,’ Threx called out.

  Atraxas whirled around.

  ‘You’ll damn well come now, you impudent pup!’ The Hall Guards took a few steps forward but Atraxas held up his hand to halt them. ‘When your king calls, you respond without delay.’

  ‘I’m coming, don’t fret your grey hairs, uncle,’ Threx said. ‘I just need to tell my fellow herd guards where I’m going.’

  He set off up the hill and the others moved out from the shade to meet him, eyes inquiring.

  ‘What does Atraxas want?’ said Nerxes.

  ‘Me,’ Threx replied. ‘My father orders me to Ashabarq.’

  ‘Oh. Why did Atraxas have to get you?’

  ‘I guess he thought I’d ignore a message sent with someone else.’ Threx rubbed a hand over his scalp. ‘He’s probably right. Look, I don’t know what my father wants, but I can’t imagine he’s forgiven me after just a couple of days. Probably wants me to say sorry, beg for his mercy, something like that.’

  ‘Will you?’ asked Foraza.

  Threx looked at the three of them and then up to the cloudless sky.

  ‘I like it up here, the breeze is nice,’ he said. ‘I don’t fancy grovelling like a dog to end it.’

  Foraza looked disappointed but Vourza nodded her approval.

  ‘Don’t make it worse,’ said Nerxes.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I mean, keep your mouth shut. Don’t beg, but don’t make him angrier. Keep your feelings to yourself this time.’

  ‘Only a coward doesn’t speak their mind.’

  ‘Only an idiot pours oil on a fire.’

  Threx glared at his cousin but Nerxes would not back down. A shout from Atraxas broke the impasse, causing Threx to turn and raise his hand.

  ‘Maybe my father’ll just put a spear through me and be done with it,’ said Threx as he walked off.

  The Hall of the Pyre was much as it was the last time Threx had been there. The only difference was the utter dormancy of the Pyre. It was dark and cold, no sign of life among the ashes and bones.

  The Ashen King sat upon his pale throne as before, flanked by his advisors. Joraxi was not present but a royal niece and nephew, Liloax and Roya, had replaced him.

  Threx noticed that his axe was still there, leaning against one side of his father’s chair.

  As at their last meeting, the Ashen King would not look at Threx when he entered but regarded an area of floor in the middle distance.

  ‘You summoned me?’ Threx called out as he approached the throne.

  ‘I have been honoured with the Ashen King’s trust,’ announced Liloax. ‘My words shall be his words.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘The Hall of the Pyre has received a message from Wendhome.’

  ‘Written apology?’ Threx said with a bitter laugh, for it was obvious by everyone’s demeanour that no such thing had been received.

  ‘The Lord Yourag is angered by the assault upon his people and himself. He demands restitution from the Skullbrands for the injury done to the Korchian tribe.’

  ‘He can go–’

  ‘But,’ Liloax cut across him, ‘Lord Yourag recognises that it was not the intent of the Ashen King to offend the Korchians and he does not hold his fellow tribal king responsible.’

  ‘He compares himself to the Ashen King?’ Threx looked at his father, amazed that this statement had not drawn more of a reaction. ‘Yourag calls himself your equal, father! Your equal!’

  Still the Ashen King said nothing and did not even turn his gaze in his son’s direction. Liloax continued.

  ‘The actions of Threx Skullbrand are the actions of a renegade. Compensation will be made by Threx Skullbrand and presented in person by him to Lord Yourag.’

  ‘What is compensation?’ said Threx.

  ‘This compensation is to be presented before the full waning of the red moon,’ said Liloax, ignoring him. ‘Firstly, Threx Skullbrand shall denounce his actions in assaulting the lands and people of Wendhome. He will present personal apology to Lord Yourag for insulting his person with his attack.’

  ‘He must be joking.’

  ‘Secondly, Threx Skullbrand will offer up a token of his regret as a symbol of his future good intent to the Korchian people and its ruler.’

  ‘A token of good intent?’ Threx stared at his cousin. ‘What token? Coin? Is he demanding payment, the thief?’

  Liloax eyes slid sideways, towards the throne. It took a short while before Threx realised she was not looking at the chair or the occupant, but what was alongside it.

  ‘Oh, Yourag can have my axe, for sure!’ Threx laughed. ‘Edge first!’

  His laughter rang hollow around the hall.

  ‘He’s mocking us. Can’t you see that? He was beaten and now he wants us to slink on our bellies to Wendhome?’ Threx held out an imploring hand to his father. ‘It’s Yourag that should beg before the Ashen King! I should have left the mark upon his skull as we did in the past, a lesson to his people not to wrong us.’

  ‘You,’ the Ashen King said quietly, turning his head. ‘It is you that will crawl on your belly to offer apology. Yourag demands nothing of me.’

  ‘I am your son…’

  ‘For now.’

  Threx staggered as though his father had struck him. Any words fled him at the implication of his father’s statement. Was that the punishment still waiting for him?

  ‘We cannot fend off the Korchians as well as the Fireborn,’ said Atraxas.

  ‘We didn’t fend off the Fireborn,’ said Threx. ‘We rolled over and showed them our bellies like tame hounds.’

  ‘Others are seeking advantage,’ said Soreas. She rubbed her hammer talisman with a thumb, the dark red of her fingernails stark against the silver. ‘Prowling the shadows like wolves.’

  ‘Because they haven’t heard what happened to Yourag,’ Threx told them. ‘Strike now, Ashen King. Gather the army and blood the Fireborn for their thievery. Humble them, and the others will retreat.’

  His father seemed to contemplate this notion, before his eyes strayed to Soreas. Seeking… support? Guidance?

  ‘The tribes should not war with each other,’ said the Priestess of the Hammer. ‘We are one under Sigmar, His chosen people. Gone are the days when bloodshed ruled.’

  ‘Gone?’ Threx’s gaze moved back and forth between his parents while he tried to work out what was happening between them. ‘What are the prayer-smiths of the Fireborn saying? What does Yourag’s Voice of Sigmar tell him when he holds court? To be meek and mild, as the lamb is?’

  ‘If others stray it is doubly important to remain on the path of truth,’ Soreas said, her words directed at the Ashen King. ‘To break his trust is a sin, one that will be punished in time.’

  Threx stalked across the hall and stopped a few paces from the edge of the Pyre. Kexas hurried towards him, alarmed. Threx met him with a stare.

  ‘Didn’t we used to feed the Pyre with the bodies of our enemies, not o
ur own honoured dead?’

  ‘In our barbaric past, that was true,’ Kexas said.

  ‘And why did we stop?’

  Kexas did not reply with words but his gaze fluttered to Soreas for an instant.

  ‘When the Hammer-God came,’ Threx answered for him, turning back to face his family. ‘Sigmar promised us peace, a time of growth and strength. All I see is a people that are losing their way. The Ashen King could lead us back to glory, make the Skullbrand name a curse on the tongues of our enemies again. Say the word and all of the Asha Vale would take up their blades for you.’

  ‘That is not our way any more,’ his mother said, stepping between Threx and his king. ‘It is pride that speaks through you, not sense. There are lands that have prospered greatly under the gaze of Sigmar. They embrace the cult of the Hammer and don’t cling…’

  She stopped herself before any more damning words escaped her lips, but her glance had been for Kexas and the Pyre. The Keeper of the Pyre said nothing, but Threx saw a flash of resentment in his gaze.

  ‘It is wrong to turn back to hatred and war,’ his mother tried again. ‘Only crows and wolves profit from it.’

  ‘We are surrounded by crows already,’ Threx argued, his tone pleading with his father. ‘Better to be the wolf than the carrion.’

  The Ashen King regarded him in silence for several heartbeats. In that time Threx’s hopes soared, daring to think that his father might yet live up to the strength of the blood that flowed in his veins.

  And then the Ashen King sighed and shook his head.

  ‘You will take your axe to Yourag,’ he said softly. ‘There will be no war between the Skullbrands and Korchians.’

  Fear.

  Fear had been the cage around the painter, but now he was free from its confines. More than that, he was fast becoming its master. The incident on the summit of the mount had not only transformed the rocky hill; it had set a fire inside him that could not be quenched. He stood outside the cave and looked down the slope towards the forest. A pile of decaying animal carcasses both large and small was left in a hollow a few dozen paces away.

  Offerings.

  Gifts from the gor-folk, laid upon his threshold. He knew the power was not his, but the denizens of the shadowed boughs that stretched around his home did not. He heard them at night, gathered about the foot of the great mound, their plaintive howling a song of appeasement. He could see them now, vague shapes beneath the canopy, a movement in the depths that withdrew as he strode down the hillside.