Masters of Stone and Steel - Gav Thorpe & Nick Kyme

by Warhammer

  Dodging a swing from Nurftun, a white-furred wolf bounded into her field of view, its rider at least a head taller than the goblin she had killed earlier. The wolf pounced, jaws wide. She countered with her shield, moving her left foot across, catching the beast’s charge with her weight on her back foot. It crashed against the shield with more force than she had been expecting, but she held her ground, right foot ploughing through the dirt. Over the brim of her shield she could see the goblin leering at her, a curved sword in one hand, a small oval shield made of woven hide strips in the other.

  The wolf lunged again and Haldora defended herself again, waiting for the moment. The goblin’s sword arced down but she was able to catch it on the rim of the shield, turning it away from her face. The wolf pulled back, muscles bunching, while the goblin steadied itself, raising its sword for another strike.

  This was her opening and she attacked without hesitation. Slamming her shield into the wolf’s face she stepped forwards, under the swing of the goblin’s crooked blade. She swung her axe up and down with all her strength, throwing her whole weight behind the blow. Its gleaming head chopped through the goblin’s thigh and into the ribs of the wolf.

  The goblin fell backwards as the wolf yapped and jumped away, blood spilling from both wounds.

  Haldora stepped back into place, remembering the lessons of Nakka. In the line she was safe. Outside the line nobody was watching her back. The white wolf rolled and thrashed for a few heartbeats and then fell still. Beyond its corpse Haldora could see that the goblin was still alive, dragging itself away through the bushes, trailing its good leg behind it. It was tempting to chase after the greenskin to finish it off, but she kept her cool and told herself that even a goblin could not survive such a wound.

  Another wolf and rider came and she killed them too. And another. And another. The fifth she shared with Fleinn; his swords decapitated the wolf as Haldora’s axe ripped out the guts of the rider.

  More horns blared, but these were not the brassy, thin notes of goblin instruments but the bass tone of dwarf horns. The patrol had reached the ridge and were piling up towards the goblins, catching them between the two forces. Realising that they had missed their chance, the goblins’ courage faded quickly and they scattered, disappearing into the night just as they had the last time Haldora had been in a battle.

  There were shouts of greeting as the two groups converged. Haldora scanned the faces looming out of the starlight. She recognised them all, but not the faces she wanted to see.

  ‘Gabbik! Where’s Gabbik? Skraffi? Nakka?’ She grabbed one of the dwarfs by the shoulders – Cousin Grothrund – and demanded to know where her family were.

  ‘Back there,’ said Grothrund, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder back to the plains.

  ‘Oh no,’ sobbed Haldora, sinking to her knees. It felt as though the ground had opened up beneath her, the stars above swirling below as well, a vast emptiness threatening to suck her in. ‘Not all of them, no!’

  ‘Sorry, lass,’ said Grothrund, crouching beside her. He patted her arm. ‘Poor choice of words.’

  Through her tears she saw there was another group of dwarfs coming up the slope, each of them dragging a bier behind them on which lay more dwarfs – wounded or dead Haldora could not tell. As her tears cleared she recognised Skraffi and surged to her feet.

  She sprinted down the hill, dropping her axe and shield on the way to run all the faster. He carefully lowered the sled-like stretcher as she hurled herself at him, braids flapping.

  ‘Easy, Haldi, easy,’ he said, hugging her tight. Skraffi pulled away and turned, letting her see the bier. Her father lay on the lattice of wood and reeds, very pale, a ragged cut across the side of his head, mail stained with dried blood. Her hand went to her mouth and she sobbed again.

  ‘He’ll be right enough, no worries,’ Skraffi said. He nodded to the left and Haldora saw Nakka pulling another stretcher, a bandage around his left arm. He smiled at her and nodded.

  Gabbik opened his eyes, frowning. When he spoke his voice was little more than a dry croak. He coughed, took in a breath that made him wince and tried again.

  ‘Haldora? What by Grimnir’s hairy chin are you doing here?’

  They waited until dawn, patching up the wounded, of which there were eight dwarfs, and using cloaks to shroud the five that were dead. Haldora stayed close to her father, but as Skraffi had promised his injury was not as severe as it looked.

  ‘Scalp cuts always bleed bad,’ said Gabbik, as though he was an expert on that sort of thing.

  He was on his feet by daybreak, complaining of a sore head but nothing worse. The night had passed without further event but the sounds of prowling bands of wolf riders had kept everybody awake and alert.

  With the earliest daylight streaming across the horizon they made their way north, back towards the fortifications at Undak Grimgazan. In the growing light they found tracks of more wolf riders, who had evidently overtaken the dwarfs the night before, and not few in number. Wary of an ambush the dwarfs marched with weapons and shields at the ready, which made for slower progress but was far safer.

  ‘We should meet the garrison before midday,’ declared Nurftun. ‘If they set out soon after the flare was sent up, they’ll be halfway to us by now.’

  ‘If they did,’ said Haldora.

  ‘I know Stofrik was being a bit of a stickler when we left but he’s not so petty he’d ignore a signal flare,’ said Fleinn. He looked at Nurftun. ‘Is he?’

  ‘No, lad, he’ll have roused the garrison sure enough,’ replied the older dwarf.

  With wolf riders on the prowl it was a hard choice not to send out scouts, but the risk of a lone dwarf being attacked outweighed having eyes and ears further abroad. By the time it was almost noon there was still no sign of Stofrik and the rest of the clans from Undak Grimgazan. Haldora had a few sour words about the Grimssons, Fundunstulls and the rest, as did others, but Gabbik and Nurftun claimed that the garrison would be looking for them.

  Not long after the sun was passing the zenith they came across evidence of a fight. There were dead wolves and goblins scattered over the hilly ground, some with arrows in them and others with axe wounds and injuries from hammer blows. The grass was trampled over a wide swath and they discovered broken mail rings, two splintered shields bearing markings of the Burlithroms and a snapped axe.

  ‘Looks like Stofrik and his company found the other wolf riders first,’ said Nakka, kicking over the remnants of a shield. ‘But did they win?’

  ‘I figure they did,’ said Durk, kneeling beside one of the dead wolves. ‘The goblins left their dead, but there’s no Ekrundfolk lying here.’

  ‘What do goblins care for their dead?’ asked Haldora. ‘They’re savages.’

  ‘They eat them,’ Skraffi said quietly. ‘Goblins is scrawny enough as is without letting food go to waste, nor good wolf hides, fangs and bones.’

  ‘We better move on,’ said Gabbik. ‘Sooner we’re back behind the walls the sooner we can put our heads to thinking this out.’

  There was no argument on that account and the group made a brisk pace for the rest of the afternoon. Now and then one or other of the dwarfs would stop, looking south, east or west, keeping an eye out for more raiders. On more than one occasion they came back saying that they’d seen something – perhaps riders shadowing the group, or movement in the distance of goblins trying to outpace the dwarfs.

  With this news Haldora was more aware of how exposed they were. The fresh air and sun of the great outdoors lost its appeal.

  ‘I wish I was in a nice hall somewhere, with a gate,’ she told Nakka.

  ‘Soon enough,’ he reassured her. ‘There’ll be no more goblin attacks today, mark my words.’

  And his words proved true as they came within sight of the outer towers of Undak Grimgazan. Haldora had never been so happy and keen to see stone laid upon stone by dwarf hands, and they all quickened their pace again once the fortress was in sight.

  ‘G
ates are closed,’ observed Fleinn as they came closer to the walls. ‘Movement on the ramparts.’

  Indeed the sun glinted from helms and axeheads and as they approached a figure appeared at the main gate tower and shouted down at them.

  ‘Praise to Grimnir, Grungni and Valaya!’ It was Stofrik, clad in full mail and plate, the runes of his armour and short axe glowing with a greenish hue. ‘We thought the wolf riders had got you.’

  ‘Not for want of trying,’ Nurftun shouted back.

  ‘Hurry yourselves, you’ve got company,’ the Grimsson thane called down before he ordered the gates opened.

  The exertion of the march and the battle were taking a toll on Haldora as she gratefully hurried through the gate arch with Nakka and Gabbik. They made their way up the citadel to the rampart and spread out across the wall, looking back to the south. The sun had almost set but in the gloom she could see darker shapes not too far from the walls.

  ‘They’ll not attack a fort,’ said Gabbik. ‘Cowardly raiders looking for easy pickings.’

  ‘Pretty close to Ekrund,’ said Fleinn.

  ‘I told you they was getting braver,’ said Skraffi. ‘And this lot were bigger too, I reckon.’

  Nobody gainsaid the older dwarf and quiet fell as they all peered south. Haldora was taken by surprise as the door to the rampart slammed open and Friedra ran out on to the wall. First she wrapped her arms around Haldora, and then Gabbik and then Skraffi, before returning her attention to Haldora once more. She looked about to scold her daughter, but her face softened and instead she ran a finger down Haldora’s cheek.

  ‘You’re safe.’ Friedra seemed to be telling herself rather than them. ‘You’re back and safe now. Let’s get you into something clean and get some pie in your bellies.’

  ‘Best to keep this on,’ said Skraffi, rapping his knuckles on his mail. ‘Just in case. But pie sounds grand!’

  Inside the citadel other families were reuniting with the returning patrol and those that had gone with Haldora. There were stiff silences for those that had been brought back dead, and Haldora had a knot in her stomach as she watched their cloak-wrapped bodies being carried down into one of the cellars.

  Her appetite soon returned when they gathered in the main hall. Her treacle cake was still there, as were platters of steaming root vegetables. The other dwarf womenfolk weren’t given to nerves and needless fretting, but when they were worried they tended to bake to keep themselves occupied. There were several pies with lids as hard and crusty as could ever be wished for, and puddings, and dumplings, and several loaves of dark bread.

  Haldora was just spooning some carrots into her bowl when she heard a howl from outside. It was almost dark through the window and the wolf’s call was followed by more. Many more.

  As one they all left the table and hurried out onto the wall, grabbing shields and pulling free their hammers and axes. However, when they reached the rampart they found they were not under attack. Skraffi was there, with Stofrik, Gabbik, Farbrok and the other thanes. None of them looked round, they were all staring intently to the south. Pushing her way through the others, Haldora reached the battlements and saw for herself what had drawn their eye.

  There were wolf riders almost within bowshot, riding back and forth down the slope of the ridge. Their eyes glinted cruelly and wicked blades gleamed in the light from lanterns and torches on the walls. It was hard to count in the darkness but Haldora guessed there were at least a hundred goblins out there.

  ‘They won’t attack, will they?’ she asked Gabbik.

  He seemed to ignore her for a moment and then looked at her, as though tearing his eyes away from something else.

  ‘It’s not the wolves that’ll be the problem. They’re just the vanguard.’ He pointed south-west. ‘Look.’

  At first Haldora couldn’t see what he was pointing at, but as she moved her gaze further from the fortress, out across the wildlands, she suddenly saw a tiny glimmer of orange, like a spark. Then another. There were dozens out there, like yellow and red reflections of the stars above. She couldn’t work out what they were.

  ‘Camp ires,’ said Skraffi. ‘A good distance away. Greenskin campfires.’

  Haldora looked again. Now that she knew what to look for she could see many more of the pinprick lights, spread from east to south.

  ‘But there are hundreds of them,’ she said, turning back to Gabbik and the others. ‘Maybe thousands.’

  ‘Yup,’ said Gabbik, his expression bleak. ‘I reckon there are.’

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  ‘As well as the mingols, the Urbarvornfolk and the Drakkanfolk gave great stock to the profession of the rangers. They had become a surface people for the most part, and rangers that could spy the lay of the land and hunt well in the wildlands were in plentiful supply. But it was their keen eye with bow and crossbow that made the rangers so valuable. They could travel far to keep a watch on the orc tribes and if there was trouble they would send word to each other and form a garrison at the nearest mingol, to hold off any attack until more warriors could be sent.’

  It took some time for the weight of the situation to sink in. Haldora could not grasp the concept of so many orcs in one place. She tried to work out how many there were, doing mental quantity surveying in an attempt to comprehend what she was looking at: perhaps twenty or thirty orcs for each fire, with maybe three hundred fires that she could see meaning a rough guess of nine thousand orcs. Although that was a ridiculous number of greenskins it didn’t seem quite as threatening, compared to the tens of thousands of dwarfs in Ekrund.

  And then she made the mistake of going with the others to the viewing tubes out on the western wall. As the other dwarfs took turns at the looking glasses they would stoop to the lenses, look for some time, step back and shake their heads without saying anything. A few swapped nervous glances.

  When Haldora looked, she swept the glass to the west, and in the darkness she saw more fires, further away than those to the south and east, and then when she looked south she saw how far the fires stretched, all the way into the marshes and beyond, thousands of them.

  She revised her estimates up, and then up some more, and still she wasn’t sure if she was deliberately underplaying how many orcs there were to make herself feel safer. She shuddered and stepped away from the lens tube, shaking her head in disbelief. Tens of thousands of greenskins, probably more than a hundred thousand.

  She followed in numbed silence as Gabbik and the rest of the group headed back to the citadel. Guards were posted to the outer towers to keep an eye on the wolf-back goblins but it was likely there would be no attack that night – the goblins could wait until the rest of the horde arrived. Everybody else crowded around the tables in the main hall, menfolk and maidens alike.

  ‘We got lucky,’ said Gabbik. ‘We saw the wolf riders just before nightfall the day before we were meant to head back. We meant to move further into the swamps but when we realised how many there were we decided it was better to come back to Ungak Grimgazan and raise the alarm.’

  ‘We were sure there were more of them, but we couldn’t get past the wolf rider patrols to have a look.’ Skraffi gazed at the table, looking through the wood rather than at it. ‘We never thought there would be this many.’

  ‘We have to leave now,’ said Gabbik.

  ‘Abandon the fortress?’ Stofrik was horrified by the notion. ‘We need to light the signal fire and hold until reinforcements come from Ekrund.’

  ‘So they can die with us?’ growled Skraffi. ‘You think they’d send enough axes to hold this place against that?’ He waved a hand towards the south. ‘We have to get back to the hold and tell them the real danger. No signal fire can warn them of what’s coming out of the wildlands.’

  ‘How can there be so many of them?’ asked Haldora.

  ‘Must have crossed from the Dark Lands, come over one of the passes south of Karak Eight Peaks,’ said Fleinn.

  ‘Why come here?’ asked Durk.

  ‘Why
not?’ replied Fleinn. ‘They’re orcs. They go where they want, don’t need no plan or purpose.’

  ‘They’ve followed the Blind River down into the marshes,’ said Skraffi. He looked around the gathered dwarfs, meeting their gazes one by one. ‘I reckon they was laired up near Karag Haraz. It’s blown its top more than once these last few years. The orc holes is probably all full of fire and smoke and collapsed now. So they’ve been pushed down the river and into the wildlands, picking up more tribes as they go.’

  ‘And from further south as well, up the Blight Water,’ added Farbrok. The venerable Grimsson was clad head to foot in plates of armour that glistened with runes and a broad-headed hammer lay on the table before him. ‘Now there’s too many to live in the marshes and they’re coming north and looking to make a home in the mountains. No doubt there’s a few Varnfolk wandered too far south too, maybe lured the orcs out into the wildlands.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ said Gabbik. ‘They could have all popped out of the sea or fallen from the sky for all it means. We have to leave and we have to leave now.’

  ‘What about the wolf riders?’ asked Durk. ‘I can’t be sure, but I figure there’s more of them than us out there.’

  ‘Not enough,’ said someone behind Haldora. Others voiced similarly fierce sentiment.

  ‘Better in the day though,’ said Skraffi. ‘We’ll be able to see what’s what.’

  ‘What if we don’t have time?’ Haldora thought her father looked concerned more than scared – a subtle difference but she could not believe her father was a coward. ‘Those campfires were less than half a day away.’

  ‘We’ll leave at first light,’ announced Stofrik. ‘We’ll get everything ready and then when the sun peeks up we’ll light the beacon fire and head north. If we keep going we’ll be at the closest gate by midnight.’