Warriors of the Chaos Wastes - C L Werner

by Warhammer

  Einarr confided his fears to Birna, the only one of his companions he judged both fit and rational. The huntress accepted his concerns with a grim pragmatism. If either Orgrim or Thognathog snapped, they would most likely fall on Urda or Vallac first. Like any wild beast, they would instinctively strike the weak ones first. That would give herself and Einarr time to slip away. Einarr saw the reason in Birna’s words even as they churned his stomach. It would sit ill with him to run from such a battle.

  ‘The path of Kharnath is one that teaches to fight, even when there is no hope of victory,’ Birna cautioned. ‘But you bear the mark of Tchar and his is the wiser path. Tchar encourages his servants to choose their battles more wisely, to know when to fight and when to hide. It is not sacrifice that pleases Tchar, it is accomplishment.’

  They trudged on along the ice road, feeling the numbing north wind howl past them. For hours now, they had eluded the kraken, but none of them doubted that the aquatic horror would find them again. A feeling of despair smashed down upon them as they saw the cliffs of ice looming at the far end of the furrow. There was no bastion at the end of the road, no fortress in which they might take refuge. Indeed, the road, they now saw, was not a road at all.

  Its timbers caked in ice, the frozen remnants of its black sails hanging in great tattered sheets from the cracked stumps of its masts, the ship leaned against the wall of the fissure, as dead as the frozen hell all around it. It was huge, a sea-going juggernaut, its hull banded in steel, its sides covered in great scales of bronze. Einarr had never beheld such a vessel, nor dared to imagine that such a brute could ever be put to sea. Its shape struck him as wrong for a ship, wide and bloated compared to the thin sleek longships of the Norse. Yet there was no denying the awesome power the ship’s size and majesty, even in death, conveyed. The ‘road’ they had been following for so many days had been naught more than the trail left behind by this behemoth as it chewed its way through the Frozen Sea.

  Vallac stared at the death ship, shaking his head. Like the others, he felt despair that this was the refuge they had thought to find at the end of the furrow. The Kurgan was the first to give voice to his feelings.

  ‘You have led us to our death, Steelfist,’ he swore. ‘There is nothing here, and nowhere to escape.’

  Einarr turned on the Kurgan, glaring down at the smaller warrior from behind his bear-skull mask. ‘Has the great Tchar marked your flesh, cur of the Steppes?’ He clenched his hand into a fist, the metal fused to his skin shining in the starlight. ‘The god has led me here, just as he sent you yapping after my heels!’ Vallac scowled at Einarr’s words, but he could not hold the Baersonling’s menacing gaze. The challenge began to falter in his gaze. Unexpectedly, it was Urda who rose to take up the Kurgan’s defiance.

  ‘I warned you, Steelfist!’ the witch hissed. ‘I warned you that the signs were both guidance and warning, that you must choose wisely which to follow and which to shun!’ She spat into the ice at Einarr’s feet. ‘Baersonling filth! You have chosen wrongly and now we shall be cheated of the glory that should have been ours!’

  Einarr stared at the witch, watching as the veil slipped away and the ancient hate between her tribe and his filled her wrinkled features. The rune-eye seemed to glow with a wrathful light of its own, casting her face in an orange light. The urge to run the crone through filled him, to hack her spiteful countenance apart and leave her withered body for the kraken. Just as quickly he fought the urge down. Killing one seer had set him upon the strange path he now travelled, killing another could only make things worse.

  ‘We shall make for the ship,’ Einarr declared, stabbing his finger at the distant vessel. The others followed his gesture, but doubt remained on their faces.

  ‘Why should we?’ growled Orgrim, the words disfigured by the oversized fangs that now filled his mouth. Einarr turned on the berserker. Without thinking, without willing the motion, his metallic hand smashed into the renegade, knocking him to the ground. The force of the blow caused Orgrim’s head to bounce against the ice, almost cracking his skull. The Aesling groaned in pain, clutching at his head.

  ‘Because I say you will!’ Einarr roared, the words welling up from within him. Even he was shocked by the force and power within his voice. The others backed away from him, all defiance and doubt gone as their faces filled with something that was more fear than respect. It did not matter to Einarr; all that mattered was that they obeyed.

  The spell of authority that seemed to surround Einarr was broken when the ice beneath him suddenly heaved upward, cracking and splintering as an immense shape pressed upon it from below. Almost as colourless as the ice around them, the massive tentacles of the kraken scratched at the sky once more, the beak-like mouths on their undersides snapping and slobbering as they tried to find prey. Einarr was thrown back, crashing against the ice and rolling toward the wall of the fissure. Orgrim leapt back to his feet as another tentacle exploded right beneath him, only the woodsman’s inhuman reflexes preventing him from plunging into the hole the creature had made.

  Birna drew her sword, watching as a third and still a fourth tentacle burst through the ice. She could see the crusty scars marking where these same limbs had been injured by them during the creature’s previous attacks. Whatever pain they inflicted upon the kraken, it simply was not enough to make it give up.

  ‘The witch was right!’ Vallac snarled. ‘He has led us to our death!’ The Kurgan dodged aside as one of the tentacles came crashing down beside him. The kraken had learned a new trick, dragging its flopping arm across the ice, trying to sweep anyone standing upon it into the frigid holes it had made. Vallac winced in pain as he threw himself from the path of the oncoming limb, smashing his already injured body against the unforgiving ice as he landed. The Kurgan did not have time to consider his pain, however, as another tentacle whipped down towards him. Vallac’s vision was filled with the tremendous limb’s shadow before he rolled aside, so near did it come to crushing him.

  ‘Head for the ship!’ Birna shouted as she hacked at a tentacle slithering across the ice trying to find her. The order brought a fresh scowl to Vallac’s face. ‘Do you see any other cover?’ Birna demanded in answer to his unspoken question. Vallac nodded, turning and sprinting across the ice towards the looming bulk of the ship. Birna could see that Urda was already making for the ship with a speed she would have thought beyond the ragged crone.

  ‘Wench-sword listen to what she say,’ Thognathog’s voices rumbled from beside her. The ogre had a gaping wound in his arm where one of the kraken’s tentacles had lashed him but otherwise the ogre looked intact, in better shape at least than the dwarf slung across his shoulder. ‘Die stay here!’ There was no arguing with the ogre’s logic, but Birna found herself hesitating. She looked across the field of flailing tentacles to where Einarr’s body lay unmoving against the wall of the fissure. An impulse greater than her urge to reach safety came upon her.

  ‘We need to get Einarr!’ she shouted up at the ogre. Thognathog’s misshapen faces smiled as he shook his heads.

  ‘Steelfist give Thognathog new life,’ the ogre said. ‘Thognathog not throw that life away so soon.’

  ‘You have to help me!’ Birna roared. ‘He might not be dead!’ The ogre shrugged and turned away.

  ‘Not dead now, then he dead soon,’ Thognathog stated. ‘Maybe kraken not hungry after eat Steelfist.’ Birna spat in contempt as the ogre began to lumber after the retreating Vallac and Urda. She turned, watching as the kraken’s tentacles continued to whip and slash the ice. The bed of the fissure was alive with the kraken’s throbbing limbs now, pulsating with its slobbering, unclean life. She gasped as one of the tentacles slithered along the side of the fissure, groping for Einarr’s lifeless form.

  Every instinct told Birna to leave him, to run and save herself. But what had made her linger, now goaded her on. She had come far to find this man, she would not lose him now.

  The kraken’s tentacles flailed across the surface of the ice as Birn
a ran into the midst of the forest of profane flesh. Ice cracked as the tendrils smashed down against the ice. The kraken could sense how near she was and it redoubled its efforts. Birna dove across the ice as one tentacle crashed against the surface where she had been, the violent contact with the ice scraping the flesh from her hands. She did not have time to think about the pain as a second tentacle slithered up from the jagged ice and tried to lash itself around her body. She struck at it with her sword, shattering several of the snapping beaks that puckered its underside. The tendril recoiled in pain, but already a third was whipping across the surface towards her, trying to drive her into the freezing water. Birna waited for the limb to draw close, mustering her strength. Just before it could reach her, she leapt from the ground, clearing the oozing tendril as it swept past her. As she landed, the tentacle shifted, swinging back. Birna noticed its approach and braced herself. Now she was appreciating the madness behind her impulsive decision. Before the kraken had been confused by the variety of potential prey, unable to fix its primitive mind and focus on securing any single victim. Now, there was only Birna and the kraken was without confusion.

  Birna jumped again as the tentacle swept towards her. She felt her feet land against something at once scaly and slick with slime. The huntress fought to maintain her balance as the tentacle’s momentum caused it to swipe across the ice. The Sarls were great shipbuilders, and few were the villages that did not provide timber for the longships of their tribe. Every able-bodied Sarl in Birna’s village had been expected to help herd the timbers down the icy rivers of their land to the shipyards on the coast. Maintaining her footing on the kraken’s tentacle was almost child’s play in comparison. Birna bided her time, bracing herself to leap off when the tendril changed direction.

  A second tentacle whipped toward Birna, seeking to pluck her off the first. The huntress crouched then sprang, feeling a sense of satisfaction as the tentacle smashed against her former position, the sharp beaks snapping into the flesh of the other tentacle. The ice heaved and shuddered as a thrill of pain surged through the kraken. The pale tentacles pulsed livid red, then shot back down into the freezing depths. Birna exhaled her relief. The monster might not be gone long, but any respite was a welcome one.

  Einarr stirred weakly as Birna crouched down beside him. She could see that the side of his head was caked in blood, one of the horns snapped off from the mutated bear skull he wore. With one eye on the shattered ice and the frigid pools of water, Birna crooked her arm around the warrior’s midsection, trying to lift him from the ice. She stopped as she saw a tattered, bleeding figure staring down at her. Orgrim had survived the kraken’s attack, but his chest was a torn mess, the armour stripped away by the snapping beaks of the monster.

  Birna shuddered as she saw the feral, bestial state of Orgrim’s eyes. The man’s entire body seemed twisted, his hands crooked into clawed paws, his face somehow both narrower and broader. The berserker’s nostrils flared as he drank in their scent. She could see the jagged scar on Orgrim’s brow where Einarr had struck him. Birna looked aside to where her sword lay on the ice, wondering if she could reach it before Orgrim sprang.

  ‘Steelfist is hurt,’ Orgrim growled as his nostrils sniffed at the air. The berserker’s tongue pushed its way from behind his fangs as he spoke and Birna recoiled as she saw that it was long and sharp, more like that of a dog than a man.

  ‘I won’t let you finish him,’ she snarled back. Faster than her eyes could follow, Orgrim was in front of her, his clawed hand around her throat. She felt tiny beads of blood trickle down her neck.

  ‘Stupid bitch,’ Orgrim’s guttural voice rasped. He tightened his grip, almost choking her and threw Birna back. The huntress rolled as she crashed back against the ice, taking most of the impact on her shoulder. She pulled the small dagger from her boot, clenching it in her fist as she lunged back for Orgrim, but came up short when she saw what he was doing. The berserker had picked up Einarr, bracing his body against his shoulders. Orgrim twisted his head around as he smelled Birna approach. ‘You’re too weak to carry him,’ he snapped. ‘Follow me and keep a watch for the beast. It is beneath the ice and I cannot follow its scent.’

  Birna nodded, retrieving her sword as she wiped the blood from her neck. Orgrim began to lope across the ice. Even laden down with Einarr’s bulk, Birna found it difficult to keep up with the woodsman. She wondered at Orgrim’s abrupt display of loyalty, unable to trust it, but also unable to question it. There would be time enough for that once they were safely on the ship.

  Slowly, painfully, Vallac pulled himself up the side of the strange dreadnought, the icy bronze plates stinging his flesh as he brushed against them. Closer to the ship, he could see that it had been a vessel dedicated to the gods, bearing their images carved into the wood and branded into the bronze, the runes of the Dark Tongue scratched across the hull. But he could also see that such dedication had not saved it from the ice. The wood was splintered and cracked, great chunks torn away from the sides, exposing the decks within. The massive bolt thrower fastened to the prow of the ship was caked in frost and ice. It was obvious even to a Kurgan from the landlocked steppes that the ship would never sail again, the only thing keeping her afloat was the very ice that had killed her.

  Vallac half expected the raised voices he heard coming from the deck of the ship. Both Urda and Thognathog had outdistanced him on the ice, beating him to whatever dubious refuge the ship offered. Perhaps the old hag was trying to talk the ogre out of eating her. But as he came closer and the voices became more distinct, he was surprised to find that the voice arguing with Urda was not the rumbling echo of Thognathog, but the harshly accented spit-growl of Zhardrach. The Kurgan paused as he climbed up the frozen rigging draped across the side of the ship, pulling his knife from his belt and clenching it in his teeth. Whatever devilry the pair was trying to plan, they would not find him an easy victim.

  ‘Help me with these chains, old hag!’ Zhardrach was snarling as Vallac pulled himself over the side. ‘I’ll give you gold! Gems from the Skull Land! Whatever you desire!’

  The dwarf was standing near the far side of the deck, Thognathog’s body strewn behind him. The ogre’s head was bleeding and the stain on the chains in Zhardrach’s fists gave mute evidence of what had struck him down. Now he had Urda trapped against the gunwale, unable to get past him. Vallac idly wondered how long the dwarf had been playing dead, letting the ogre lug him across the Frozen Sea, waiting for just such an opportunity.

  ‘Even if I believed your lies, I wouldn’t lift a finger for you,’ Urda spit at the dwarf. Zhardrach snarled again, jabbing at her with a long boat hook. Vallac could see now that the dwarf couldn’t reach Urda, not unless he found some way to drag Thognathog’s gigantic body with him. At the same time, the witch couldn’t escape her sanctuary without either throwing herself over the side or coming within the dwarf’s reach. The red slashes on her arms and face told Vallac that if Zhardrach couldn’t reach her, his weapon could. While he watched, Zhardrach ripped a fresh tear in Urda’s tattered cloak. ‘Perhaps I might lift one finger for you,’ Urda hissed at him.

  ‘Try any of your witchery and I’ll stab you again,’ Zhardrach swore. ‘Now be sensible and help me get free.’

  ‘So you can kill me?’ Urda scoffed. ‘You can’t bargain with someone when you have nothing to offer them. I have only to lean over the side of this ship and then all your threats are beyond me. It will be a quick death beside what waits you. Tell me, how long do you think you’ll be able to live off ogre meat?’

  Zhardrach roared, lunging at her with the boathook. As he made to stab at her, Vallac grabbed the boat hook from him, at the same time pressing his knife against the dwarf’s hairy throat. The dwarf’s rage sputtered into a stream of curses as he froze.

  ‘It took you long enough to get here,’ Urda complained. Vallac glared back at her.

  ‘I wanted to hear what kind of offer he was making,’ Vallac explained. ‘See if it was anything worth list
ening to.’

  ‘Gold, gems,’ Zhardrach wheezed. Vallac pressed the knife more firmly against the dwarf’s leathery flesh.

  ‘Yes, I heard all that,’ Vallac said. ‘If you had anything like that, you certainly wouldn’t be working a forge for a bunch of Aeslings.’ The pain in his side made him clutch at his ribs. Urda moved towards him.

  ‘I could heal your injuries, Kurgan,’ she offered. Vallac smiled at the offer.

  ‘I trust that offer as much as his,’ he said. Suddenly another spasm of pain throbbed through his body. Zhardrach acted on the instant, ducking his head and biting Vallac’s wrist while grabbing the Kurgan’s arm. Vallac tried to pull away while still holding onto the knife, but was unable to do either. The dwarf’s strength was easily underestimated and Vallac found himself straining just to tear free from his teeth. Zhardrach let him go, dropping and scrambling for both knife and boat hook at the same time. Vallac kicked at the villain, buckling his leg beneath him and spilling the dwarf against Thognathog’s body. The dwarf crashed against the ogre’s chest in a tangle of chains and flailing limbs. He lifted his head from the tangle, glaring murder at Vallac. Then the dwarf’s eyes went wide with terror and a squeak of fright escaped his lungs.

  Thognathog sucked at his jagged teeth as he focused his four eyes on the dwarf spilled across his chest.

  ‘Hashut be praised!’ Zhardrach exclaimed. ‘You live! I was worried that you had hurt yourself!’