Taker Of Skulls (Book 5)

by William King

  A howling pack of wolves raced forward. Flame belched from the nostrils of their leader. One of Sasha’s runestones impacted in the middle of them. The lesser wolves howled as the blast bowled them over and set light to their fur. The leader kept on coming, immune to the effect of the fire blast.

  Utti raised the ball and chain attached to his ankle. He started to swing it as a weapon. Kormak could not decide whether he was intending to attack the interlopers or Graghur with it. Maybe the dwarf could not decide himself. Ferik made up his mind for him, charging at Utti, yelling, “Die traitor!”

  Utti whirled the massive metal ball around, but Ferik was too fast for him, pouncing like a springing tiger, rolling under the spinning ball and smashing his axe into Utti’s leg. Utti overbalanced, pulled down by the weight of his own improvised weapon. Overcome with rage, Ferik dropped his axe and wrapped his hands around Utti’s throat. He began to twist.

  Kormak leapt forward striking at Graghur again. The Old One parried effortlessly with one of his scimitars. Kormak struck again and this time the Old One did as he had hoped and parried with Kormak’s own sword. Kormak hooked it with the blade of his axe and twisted, wrenching it free from Graghur’s grip and sending it flying off through the air. He barely had time to leap back before the Old One’s counter-attack almost beheaded him.

  “I see your plan, human,” said Graghur. “You seek to take back the gift my friend Utti brought me and use it against me. Very clever but it will not work.”

  The Old One attacked like a four armed whirlwind. A storm of blades blew around Kormak. He ducked and weaved and parried desperately and still he bled from a dozen cuts. His arms, legs and sides burned and he was not sure whether he had taken a major wound or not. Sometimes it took seconds, even minutes to feel the full pain of such.

  He could not find any space to launch a counter-attack, and even if he had been able to, it would not have mattered. Graghur was berserk and he did not fear the axe Kormak carried. He could take a wound from it and know he would not die. His own blades would chop Kormak to pieces.

  Out of the corner of his eyes Kormak saw goblins pouring down the walls from the caves above. The great wolf bounded passed him to seek out Sasha. Mankri and the others were surrounded by a horde of foes. As the wolf breathed fire, Karnea stepped into the flames. She did not burn. The flame formed a halo around her and then vanished as if breathed in by a dragon. The runic armlet burned brightly on her arm, glowing more intensely as it absorbed more energy.

  Karnea spoke the name of the rune. A symbol of flame, exactly the same as the one on her arm, appeared between her outstretched hands. The sorceress spoke the name again and its glow intensified. More and more fire was being drawn from the wolf. It shrivelled and shrank until it was utterly gone, all of its blazing life force absorbed. Then Karnea spoke the name of the rune for a third time. The luminous symbol hovering before her flickered through the air towards Graghur.

  Kormak had barely enough time to look away and doing so almost got him killed. He only managed to get his axe clumsily in the way of one of Graghur’s scimitars. The force of the stroke cut through the haft and sent the blade thunking down into Kormak’s chest. The impact knocked him off his feet and below the strike of Graghur’s other attacks. The pain was shocking and Kormak wondered what was broken.

  He rolled away just as the flame-rune exploded. Tentacles of fire lashed out at Graghur and his followers. The flash was visible even through his closed eyelids. Goblins screamed. Dwarves cursed. Graghur wailed as if burned. Kormak rolled, side still aching, to where his sword had fallen. He reached out and his fingers closed on its familiar hilt. A savage snarl twisted his lips. New strength flooded into him as he rose to his feet.

  He raced forward towards Graghur once again. The Old One’s skin was blackened. Smoke rose from his hide. His eyes emitted huge green tears. He cast one of his scimitars. It turned end over end and buried itself in Karnea’s chest. She fell to the ground, eyes wide open, blood dribbling from her lips. Graghur turned to face Kormak now. His eyes widened in horror when he saw what Kormak held in his hands. He took a step backward even as Kormak ran at him.

  Kormak’s attacks had far greater speed and fluidity than they had when he was wielding an axe, and the Old One flinched away from them, knowing what would happen if the blade bit into his flesh. He wielded both his scimitars with great speed and skill but now he fought defensively, calling out for help in the chittering language of the goblins.

  A wave of the small creatures threw themselves forward, interposing themselves between the Guardian and their king. Kormak chopped them down and kept going, determined to put an end to Graghur if it was the last thing he did. He forced thoughts of Karnea from his mind. There was no time no to try and treat her wounds. She might already be dead. He could not afford for his concentration to slip while he battled the Old One.

  Kormak and Graghur fought their way to the edge of the cavern, to where one of the elevators stood. It was operated manually by turning a wheel connected to a system of cogs and cables. Graghur leapt onto the platform and began to turn the wheel. The lift rose rapidly as he exerted his great strength. Kormak sprang forward onto the platform, but Graghur timed his counterstroke to perfection. The force of the blow sent Kormak spinning to the ground. The goblins swarmed forward, scratching, biting, stabbing.

  Kormak rose to his feet, shrugging off his smaller attackers, ignoring his wounds. Graghur was still rising. The elevator platform was higher than Kormak’s head now. He leapt once again, while Graghur’s attention was on the wheel. The outstretched fingers of his left hand reached the bottom of the platform, gained purchase. He could not pull himself up one handed though and he did not want to let go of his blade. Having lost it once, he was not about to do so again.

  Graghur brought one heavy, hob-nailed boot down on his fingers, Kormak dropped once more, falling atop a pile of goblins, lashing out and slicing them. Graghur’s booming laughter rang out once more as he rose above the battle and out of Kormak’s reach. Kormak cursed.

  Something blazing passed overhead. An explosion sounded. Sasha had unleashed a runestone at the lift platform. The impact left it splintered and aflame but Graghur continued to rise, seemingly impervious to the flames. His mocking laughter echoed through the caves, then he looked up and noticed that the rope too was on fire.

  A moment later it snapped, sending the whole blazing platform crashing back down towards the bottom of the cavern directly on top of Kormak. It descended like a meteor. Graghur howled with pain as the flames licked at his steadily blackening flesh. Kormak threw himself to one side as the platform impacted on the hard stone, sending sparks and splinters of burning wood flying everywhere.

  The smoke almost choked him. The monstrous figure of the Goblin lord erupted from the flames, arms outstretched, claws flexed and ready to rend. His mouth was open wide. Madness filled his eyes, a sick determination to kill his tormentor if it was the last thing he did, apparent for all to see. He sprang at Kormak with the ferocity of a blood mad panther. The Guardian raised his sword and impaled the Old One on the dwarf-forged blade. The force of the impact drove him to his knees. Graghur’s weight pushed down on him. Talons scrabbled against Kormak’s armour. The Old One’s tusks snapped closed inches from his throat. For a moment Kormak inhaled his foul breath and the stink of his burning flesh.

  Graghur’s scream rose above the clamour of battle, as he dissolved into a foul, black oil which caught fire and was consumed by the flame.

  The sight of the death of their king demoralised the goblins. They turned to flee, leaving the small group of dwarves and humans standing amid a pile of corpses.

  Kormak raced over to where the bodies lay. One glance told him that Boreas was dead and Karnea was dying. The scholar lay there, very pale, eyes dimming.

  “You get him?” she asked.

  “Yes,” Kormak said.

  “I am glad,” she said. “Get the Lost Rune back to Aethelas! Tell the tale of what hap
pened here. Tell the dwarves of Aethelas about their kin.”

  “I will.”

  “Some good might come out of all this yet. The dwarves might yet be saved. More blades might be forged.”

  Kormak looked at the small band around him, thought about the numbers of dwarves left here. They were dying off and nothing was going to change that but he did not want to disappoint the dying woman. “I pray that you are right,” he said. She was already far beyond hearing.

  Ferik’s heavy hand fell on his shoulder. In his other hand, he held Utti’s head. “Come, we’d best get out of here before the goblins regroup. The monsters from the pits will keep them busy for a while longer. They are running out of control.”

  “I kept my part of the bargain,” Kormak said, pointing to the outline of a body where Graghur had fallen.

  “And we will keep ours,” said Ferik. “You have the word of a dwarf on that. Without Graghur to lead them, we can take back the mine and reclaim the netherium.”

  In his heart, Kormak wondered at the truth of that, but right now he could not bring himself to care too much. He felt bad about abandoning Karnea and Boreas without burial. Still, there was something he needed to do. He reached down and unclamped the rune from the sorceress’s arm and he picked up her sack.

  “Come on,” he said. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Epilogue

  KORMAK WATCHED AS the caravan prepared to leave Varigston. He felt better himself now he had a horse under him and a road out ahead.

  There were a score of wagons all loaded with artefacts taken from the ruins of Khazduroth and there were armed men there to protect them. He looked down at Sasha. She adjusted little Tam’s cloak, looked back and said something to her sister. The boy glanced at Kormak and smiled. He was glad that he had managed to keep one promise at least.

  “You sure you won’t come to Aethelas?” he said. He kept his voice low so no one could overhear him. “You had an agreement with Karnea. The rune was hers. You were to receive one quarter of its value. It could be worth a lot.”

  She smiled and spoke back just as softly, “And they might just decide to lock me up and keep what I know a secret. No, you were more than generous with Karnea’s gold and letters of credit. We’ll take the next caravan out and we’ll quietly vanish once we hit some big city.”

  Kormak could not help but feel that might be the wiser course. Grand Master Darius might choose to be generous but then again, he might want the secret of the netherium kept safe for a few months longer. “As long as you keep your mouth shut, no one will come looking for you.”

  “You promise?” she said.

  “I promise.”

  “What about you? Won’t you have some explaining to do, with Karnea gone?”

  “I have the rune and the promise of netherium. I am sure that will excuse a lot of failure on my part.”

  “I am sorry she died,” Sasha said. “She was a nice woman even if she was a sorceress and she probably saved both our lives.”

  Kormak nodded and felt gloom settle on his shoulders like a weight. He looked at the mountains around him and back in the direction of the lost city. Clouds hung there, obscuring the sun.

  A horn sounded, the wagons began to roll. He turned and waved farewell to the two women and the small boy and then they disappeared into the distance behind him.

  Acknowledgements

  THIS BOOK WAS helped along its way by many people. I would like to express gratitude to my test readers, Bjorn Tasto, Michael Mooney and Jeff Rubinoff as well as my cover designer Clarissa Yeo, map maker Chazz Kellner and proofreader Angela King. Thanks everybody!

  About the Author

  WILLIAM KING LIVES in Prague, Czech Republic with his lovely wife Radka and his sons Dan and William Karel. He has been a professional author and games developer for almost a quarter of a century. He is the creator of the bestselling Gotrek and Felix series for Black Library and the author of the bestselling Space Wolf books which between them have sold over three quarters of a million copies in English and been translated into 8 languages.

  He has been short-listed for the David Gemmell Legend Award. His short fiction has appeared in Year’s Best SF and Best of Interzone. He has twice won the Origins Awards For Game Design. His hobbies include role-playing games and MMOs as well as travel.

  His website can be found at: www.williamking.me

  He can be contacted at bill@williamking.me

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  THE TERRARCH CHRONICLES

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