The Red Path

by Chris Dows

  Understanding swept through the ranks. Despondent murmurs turned to a low rumble, then a chant, then roars of blood rage. One berzerker barged through to the front and brandished his scimitar-styled power sword.

  ‘More blood for the Red God!’

  Khârn nodded once to him, and without further pause, the new opponent threw himself into the pit. Khârn immediately followed. Landing next to the warrior, he brought his leg up into his flank and sent him reeling into Vadal. Within seconds, Malogot and Rocez were rushing towards the new addition, who had only just brought his weapon to bear when they started their attack. The Blood Angel Capderado swung at Khârn with a bellow of fury and he ducked, only to find Tiverdak was perfectly positioned to smash a power maul into his exposed left arm. Khârn ducked backwards, catching one of the razor-sharp projections on the wall. The second power maul slammed into the plating scant inches away from Khârn’s head. Spinning away, he swept outwards with Gorechild, but Tiverdak and Capderado anticipated the move and jumped backwards. The first anonymous berzerker stood some way behind, watching the proceedings. As the three World Eaters hacked and slashed at the eighth opponent, one thing became absolutely clear to Khârn. Six out of the original seven who had gone into the pit were working together.

  Capderado swung high with his twin-bladed axe, coming at Khârn fast. Of them all, the Blood Angel was the closest match to Khârn’s speed and power. Khârn brought Gorechild up and deflected the weapon away, but again Tiverdak came in with his power mauls. Khârn kicked out with his right foot and sent the former Steel Brother back into the centre of the pit, where the anonymous berzerker moved at last, taking it upon himself to launch his own surprise attack on Tiverdak. Khârn had no time to watch the outcome of their fight. Smashing Gorechild into the haft of Capderado’s axe, he threw himself forwards away from the wall and drove the Blood Angel backwards. Khârn heard Malogot shout something to Vadal and Rocez. They increased the intensity of their attack on the eighth opponent, who disappeared under the buzz of chainswords while Malogot charged towards Khârn from his left. When the blow from Sonva Bael’s power axe smashed into his right pauldron, Khârn cursed himself for losing track of the Alpha Legionnaire, who had stayed in his blind spot since Khârn’s landing. Shaking off the discharge as it danced over his armour, Khârn swept Gorechild over his head and rammed it into the arm of his new attacker. The chainaxe tore through his rerebrace, thick ropes of blood spurting from the wound as the arm fell away to the floor. Khârn felt the roar of approval through the steel plates of the pit rather than hearing it from above. He had drawn first blood.

  A blur of metal from his left sent Khârn dropping to the sand, swinging Gorechild back towards Malogot and making him jump away. Sonva Bael bellowed at the top of his voice and picked up his fizzling axe with his remaining hand, but Khârn was ready and kept Gorechild swinging, rotating in a crouch and slicing into the side of the Alpha Legionnaire’s helmet. The chain tore through the top, cleaving the upper dome off. Bael fell backwards onto the sand-covered decking, his brain slopping out from his opened skull. Malogot screamed over at Vadal and Rocez to finish their work and ran at Khârn, his chainsword spinning at full speed. Capderado waited for him to join his flank, then the two of them approached Khârn. The Chosen of Khorne jumped to his feet and trampled over Bael’s body, backing up towards Tiverdak and the anonymous warrior who were fighting their own furious battle.

  Behind them, Vadal was lying on the ground, blood pumping freely from his inner thigh. Rocez was driving his chainsword into the neck of the eighth, pushing it up to the hilt with a roar.

  ‘God of Blood and Bone, be my witness!’ Rocez bellowed in rage.

  The body dropped to the floor next to Vadal, twitching violently from the fatal attack. Rocez turned and started towards Khârn, taking up position behind his two companions. Khârn smiled to himself. Swapping Gorechild from his left hand to the right, he thrust the chainaxe forward in a feint towards Capderado but twisted the handle to flatten the blade horizontally. Seeing a gap, Malogot charged forwards, chainsword held high and ready to come down on Khârn’s head. Khârn angled himself to the side and threw all of his weight into Capderado, taking the blow from his axe on his right shoulder. Malogot turned as Khârn passed him. Gorechild sliced into the bottom of his helmet, cutting through the grille and exposing the lower half of his face as the ceramite dropped away.

  Khârn felt a sickening blow smash into the back of his neck. His vision shifted to red and he spun away, bringing Gorechild out and around in a wide arc to carve himself some space. Shaking his head to clear his distorted vision, he saw Capderado advancing on him again. A crash came from his side, and Khârn glanced behind to see where the anonymous attacker had fallen to the bloody floor under a hail of blows from Tiverdak’s power mauls. His helmet was fracturing under the frenzied blows. Within seconds, the Steel Brother would join in the attack on him.

  ‘Kill! Maim! Kill!’

  Khârn roared the words as he swung Gorechild before him. Capderado dodged right while Malogot moved left, leaving Rocez in the middle. Khârn did not go for the ruse; if he advanced further, the two would attack from the sides. Instead, he suddenly lunged towards Malogot, swatting away the sweep of his chainsword with Gorechild. Capderado and Rocez moved in as one, so Khârn swung out with the ancient chainaxe in his right hand as he barged into Malogot’s chest, pushing him against the pit’s wall with a squeal of metal on metal. Capderado tried to disarm Khârn with a weighty chop of his great axe, but Khârn dodged the swing and pushed his hand into the side of Malogot’s helmet. Twisting the World Eater’s face towards the wall, Malogot’s cry of fury was cut short as Khârn rammed his exposed throat into a protruding spike, impaling him through his mouth in an explosion of blood and tissue. Khârn left the body hanging face-forwards as he positioned himself to take on the remaining three, who were fanning out to encircle him. They were giving him more space now.

  ‘Glory to the Blood Father!’

  Rocez charged a fraction before Tiverdak, screaming his vow as he raised his weapon. Khârn parried the chainsword, but as he turned to keep Capderado in view, Tiverdak hit him squarely in the chest with one power maul. Khârn reeled with the blow. Rocez moved in again with his chainsword, but Khârn ducked and brought Gorechild up in a vertical slice. Rocez’s arm was carved off and he fell back, cradling the stump of his useless limb and screaming in rage. Tiverdak came forward again, barging Rocez out of the way in his bloodlust. Capderado whirled his axe around his head and ran in from the other side. Khârn turned and kicked Capderado in the chest as he brought Gorechild’s handle up to block Tiverdak’s assault. Capderado spun away, and while Khârn managed to deflect one of Tiverdak’s mauls, the other smashed into the side of his head. Distracted by the blow, Khârn felt his right pauldron begin to shudder. Rocez had recovered, and was now holding the chainsword in his good hand.

  Khârn felt the teeth start to carve into his flesh. Instead of grinding into the bone, the chain suddenly stopped, jammed in the brass of his armour. As Rocez struggled to release the sword, Capderado and Tiverdak were blocked by the World Eater. Khârn jabbed with Gorechild’s haft, violently repelling Rocez along with his weapon. As he reeled, Khârn circled his relic axe around with lightning speed and buried it in Rocez’s shoulder. The Chosen of Khorne did not stop pushing until Gorechild had chewed its way from neck to armpit. As the body slid to the floor, Khârn could feel blood pouring down his right arm. His entire face hurt when he moved his jaw. Capderado and Tiverdak weighed their weapons in their hands, closing in on both sides. Khârn sensed movement some yards away. Vadal had recovered his senses and was rising to his feet, the lower half of his armour caked in congealed blood. Khârn felt a thrill run through his body. Looking up, all he could see were milling, seething silhouettes looking down on the spectacle. More weapons rained down into the pit, the audience eager for more blood. Khârn would grant their wish.

  ‘Rejoic
e, Blood Father! Rejoice in the slaughter I bring you!’

  As the three challengers fanned out, the noise from the baying crowd swept over Khârn. Vadal had the power scimitar from the eighth opponent in one hand and a chainsword in the other. It was clear that he was eager to make up for time spent senseless on the floor. Capderado maintained his position directly in front, while Tiverdak skulked behind. Despite being down to three opponents, Khârn realised the danger of the situation. This was what he lived for.

  Vadal made his move. Khârn brought his right arm up to smash away the World Eater’s chainsword and swung Gorechild down into Vadal’s pauldron, partially severing his arm at the shoulder. Khârn pulled back on his chainaxe and it came away cleanly, making him step back to regain his balance. A mighty blow landed on the back of his neck, and his peripheral vision flooded red.

  Khârn’s head shook fiercely from Tiverdak’s blow. Moving backwards towards the blood-soaked wall of the pit, the view around him started to change. His three attackers moved like shadows, then resolved themselves into white, fractured spectres, as if they were misshapen bones connected by some force he could not see. Blood began to seep up through the sand on the floor, and the jagged steel surrounding him faded to darkness.

  Looking up out of the pit, he saw that the jeering berzerkers had disappeared, as had the ceiling of the chamber, to be replaced by the swirling maelstrom that was the warp.

  The three white creatures moved before him in a line. They had no difficulty navigating the flowing river of blood in which he now found himself, and seemed oblivious to the howling winds and lightning that crackled and spat above. Behind them, a path of deep red flowed into the distance towards a glowing pearlescent orb on the horizon.

  They were blocking his way, and Khârn knew instinctively what he had to do.

  One of the creatures surged forwards, and Khârn met it head on. He swung Gorechild with a roar, and the spectre broke apart into a thousand fractured shards of bone. The second creature then came at him, but this one’s body had changed. It now had wings, and the lightning lanced down upon it from above, lighting it up in a brilliant display and burning its image into his retinas. Dazzled, Khârn tried to blink the images away and felt something hit him on his flank. He staggered back, but the power of the river pushed him upright and gave him momentum enough to swing Gorechild down onto the head of his phantom attacker. He followed the path of the lightning bolt from top to bottom and the abomination split in two, falling into the bubbling river as a pile of screaming skulls.

  Khârn could not tell if he was really fighting or if he had been slain and was in the presence of the Blood God. If this was another vision, it had a visceral quality to it the other had not possessed. The searing pain in his shoulder was still there with every movement, and something told him the final creature hurtling towards him was real enough in its intent to do him harm. But then his view began to change once again: flashes of Capderado charging towards him, axe held in both hands, interspersed with his revelation. The red river receded and turned back into the floor of the pit, and the screaming winds became the howling snarls of the audience baying from above. Khârn bellowed in fury at the loss of his vision just as Tiverdak’s power mauls smashed into the side of his helmet in a quick staccato.

  Khârn’s head spun with the impacts, and he stumbled back towards the wall, electricity arcing between the vanes of his helm. As he ducked out of the way of Capderado’s mighty blow, he saw the two halves of Vadal’s body on the floor. The blade of the Blood Angel’s axe bit deep into the steel of the pit’s side, and Khârn threw himself forwards, sending Capderado reeling to the blood-drenched sand.

  Khârn heard the swoosh of Tiverdak’s mauls as they passed over his head, and he rolled to the side, bringing Gorechild down into Capderado’s neck as he did so. Such was the force of his blow, the chainaxe passed through his body and ate its way into the floor. A single heave did not free the weapon, so Khârn abandoned it with a curse. Springing to his feet, he grabbed a chainsword that had been thrown into the pit. It was no match for Tiverdak’s power mauls. As the Steel Brother wheeled and spun them in a choreographed frenzy, the teeth were smashed away, rendering the weapon useless. Khârn threw himself towards the wall, seized the jutting handle of Capderado’s axe and heaved, turning as it came away from the deep slash in the metal. Angling the blunted blade horizontally, he brought it under the side of Tiverdak’s helmet. It did not have the dragon teeth of Gorechild to tear its way across his neck, but the power of the blow was enough to stun the Steel Brother. With a bellow of rage, Khârn pulled the axe free and struck a second time.

  The third hack resulted in the head being ripped away, and the body collapsed to the ground. As a hundred killers roared their approval from above, Khârn regarded the bodies before him. Eight skulls lay here for the Blood Father, yet his victory meant nothing. He still had no clarity, no further suggestion of destiny for him to follow.

  A thick rusting chain appeared next to him, and Khârn looked up to see Samzar peering down, holding the other end. Angrily, he pushed it away and removed his ruined helmet. He would not be clambering out of this pit until he had claimed all of his trophies for the Blood God. The crowd surrounding the ledges had fallen silent. Khârn wiped his face with his bare left hand, and spat a bloody gobbet onto the floor. He spread his chain-slung arms and raised Gorechild’s still-hungry head.

  ‘Are there any more among you who wish to challenge me?’

  Khârn turned in a slow circle, staring at the lines of berzerkers looking down at him.

  ‘Are there any more among you who feel they can serve the Blood God better than I?’

  No one moved. Khârn felt his frustration turn to fresh anger.

  ‘I care not if you follow me or go your own way. But know this – only I can show you the Red Path. And why is this?’ Khârn bellowed at the mesmerized crowd.

  ‘Because I am the Chosen of Khorne!’

  Roars and cheers erupted around the chamber, echoing off its iron walls.

  ‘Blood for the Blood God!’

  Khârn lowered Gorechild.

  Without warning, the walls of the pit shook violently and the lights set into the ceiling dimmed to near-darkness before flickering on again, now dark red. Khârn heard muted alarms in the decks above, then louder ones as they cascaded down into the depths of the Skulltaker. Donning his helmet, he grabbed the chain and pulled himself up. A series of explosions rocked him violently to the side and threatened to shake him loose. Samzar reached down and hauled him over the ledge. As Khârn got to his feet, Lukosz was shouting at the top of his voice to the warband.

  ‘To your combat stations! Prepare to repel boarders!’

  Despite the trial he had just endured, the blood pumped savagely through Khârn’s veins. There would, indeed, be more blood for the Blood God.

  Chapter Five

  Wrath of the Emperor

  The blast hit Khârn with all the force of a power maul. Amplified and focussed in the confines of the now-ruined corridor, it threw Khârn backwards into Samzar, knocking them both to the deck as fragments of twisted metal spun overhead. Khârn recovered first, his head spinning from the impact, warning runes still flickering red from the combat in the fighting pit. He watched as Samzar staggered to his feet and looked behind him, weapon raised and ready. Khârn had dismissed the champion’s insistence he be the last to leave the fighting pits lest a mutineer decided to chance an attack in the confusion. Khârn needed no one to guard his back. Hefting Gorechild, Khârn looked to Samzar and nodded for him to go in front. Warily, he did as he was bade, moving into the battered passageway with his chainsword at the ready.

  Khârn felt a searing pain in his right shoulder and the unmistakable warmth of blood seeping from a wound. It had opened up again. Stepping forwards, more pain lanced up through his left leg. His foot was certainly broken and he shook his head angrily to clear the
blurring in his vision. Even in this condition there was no one on the ship who could match him, but there were many who might try. It would be the last mistake they ever made. He watched as Samzar looked up at the ragged hole in the ceiling where the explosion had ruptured the upper decks. More debris crashed down around him, but the danger appeared to be over. Samzar turned and beckoned for Khârn to follow, and as he moved off, the Skulltaker shuddered and moaned. There was a tremendous creaking, then Khârn felt himself falling to his left. The entire ship was rolling over on its side.

  Before him, Samzar fell out of sight. Khârn pushed himself away from the bulkhead with his bare left shoulder and tried to right himself. His left foot was on the bottom of the wall at an acute angle, and more pain shot through him. Khârn lumbered forwards, gritting his teeth with the effort, but he had not taken more than a couple of steps when a mass of twisted metal crashed down through the hole in the ceiling close to Samzar’s position. The stern of the ship dropped like a stone and Khârn tipped backwards, scrabbling with his left hand against the rusting bulkhead wall. Before him the corridor rose into the air as the Skulltaker angled upwards, and he was just about to bring Gorechild down onto the deck to secure his position when the mass of wreckage that had fallen through the ceiling began to slide towards him.

  Khârn immediately realised it did not threaten his life, but if a raiding party – or anyone else for that matter – found him tangled amongst the debris, he would present an easy target. Pulling Gorechild to his chest, he allowed himself to fall onto his back and used the ever-steepening angle of the vessel to slide head first between the deck plates and wall bulkheads. Smaller pieces of wreckage bounced off him as he fell, but with a couple of extra kicks he managed to stay just ahead of the tidal wave of twisted iron and plascrete that threatened to bury him. Falling into the space of a large intersection, Khârn swept out with Gorechild and rammed its teeth into the corner of the bisecting wall. His damaged shoulder had to take his full weight and that of several pieces of metal landing on top of him, but with a mighty heave he pulled himself out of the path of the falling debris. The ship jolted and tried to correct itself, but Khârn still looked down at an angle of around twenty degrees. This corridor would take him towards the port outer hull of the Skulltaker – not the way he wanted to go but a route to the bridge regardless.