‘What is that?’ Berla asked, pointing at the cask on Lukas’ back. There was precious little respect in her tone. Any other Space Wolf might have killed her out of hand for the insult. But she knew Lukas of old, and knew that he rarely took insult, even where it was damn well intended.
Lukas stepped back, giving her space. ‘What is what?’ he asked, his eyes wide.
‘On your back, my lord.’
‘There’s something on my back?’ Lukas spun, tilting his head quizzically. Berla didn’t so much as crack a smile. Instead, she looked at Halvar.
‘You stink. What is in the cask?’
Halvar looked back and forth between them, clearly at a loss. His fingers fidgeted with his totems. Lukas realised that the noise levels in the hall had dropped. The eyes of every thrall in the refectory were on the confrontation. He sighed. ‘You are well within your rights to tell someone about us.’
She shrugged. ‘I am a mortal. A thrall. Who am I to offer an opinion about where and when a Sky Warrior chooses to go?’
‘You are a queen, and this is your kingdom,’ Lukas said, looking down at her. ‘As it was your mother’s, and hers before then. If you speak, the jarls will listen, whether they like it or not.’ He gestured to Halvar. ‘Even Blood Claws have sense enough to be afraid of you.’
‘And if they catch you here, they will beat you bloody. The pair of you.’ She favoured Halvar with a frown. ‘He has led you into trouble, my lord.’ With a snort, she turned away. ‘I saw nothing.’ At her gesture, the thralls relaxed and turned back to their tasks. Lukas glanced at Halvar and smiled.
‘See? I told you it would be fine.’
‘Get out of my refectory, my lords,’ Berla said, not looking at them. ‘It’s very hard to see nothing if you insist on standing there, growling at one another.’
‘Right, yes, we’ll just be going. You saw nothing!’ Lukas said, slipping towards the doors. He snagged a chunk of meat as he went and took a bite before tossing it to Halvar. ‘Eat up, pup. Best to do this sort of thing on a full belly.’
They climbed up into Jarlheim by secret paths and water-logged access corridors. They avoided contact with anyone and everyone, save a few startled thralls and a servitor who watched them blankly.
When they at last reached the great doors that led to the Grimbloods’ feasting hall, the sound of celebration beat at the stone of the corridor like the fists of a giant. Halvar hesitated. ‘How do we get in there without being seen?’
‘We don’t,’ Lukas said. He hefted his cask onto his shoulder. ‘Let’s go spoil their fun, shall we?’ Without waiting for a reply, he stalked towards the doors and kicked them open. As the boom echoed through the hall, Lukas strode between the tables towards the high seats where the jarl and his thegns sat, Halvar hurrying in his wake. ‘Hail, Jarl Grimblood!’ Lukas bellowed. ‘I see your hair has grown back.’
Warriors heaved themselves to their feet, querulous questions on their lips. Shouts and roars echoed through the hall. At the high table, Grimblood rose, his face thunderous. ‘You dare show your face here, after I have cast you out?’ he thundered, shaking off a warning hand from Galerunner. Lukas smiled as he caught the Rune Priest’s eye. Galerunner didn’t look surprised to see him. Maybe the spirits had told him to expect trouble.
‘Did you have any doubt I would?’ he said, letting his burden roll off his shoulder. He wrenched the cask open and poured the body out onto the table. Grimblood let out a snarl of disgust. Lukas caught the corpse’s scalp and pulled its head up so that Grimblood could see it. ‘At least on this occasion I come bearing gifts. See?’
Grimblood leaned forward as silence fell throughout the hall. ‘Where did you find this filth?’ he growled, studying the body.
‘In the high forests, near the edge of the sea.’
‘Impossible.’
‘And yet here they are.’ Lukas sat on the table and tore loose a chunk of meat from a still-steaming platter. He chewed thoughtfully, gesticulating with the bloody bone. ‘And they didn’t come alone. They are probably all over the forests, like vermin in the rutting season.’ He gestured, and Halvar emptied his own cask onto the floor.
Galerunner looked troubled. ‘The Helwinter is interfering with the planetary communications array. If they managed to slip past the system fleet…’ He fell silent.
Grimblood growled. ‘They could be anywhere.’ He spun. ‘Gather the jarls. Tell them to meet me in the Chamber of the Annulus.’ He pointed at Lukas. ‘You. Come with me.’
The Chamber of the Annulus sat near the very summit of the Fang. It was the gathering place of the gods, where the Great Wolf and the Wolf Lords came together for their war councils. The chamber was dominated by a great circle of stone panels that spread outwards from its heart. The Grand Annulus represented the organisation of the Chapter, with each panel bearing the sigil of one of the Wolf Lords.
Each of these slabs was as large as a battle-tank, and it took dozens of warriors to lift them when circumstances called for it. Only one lacked any image or marking, and everyone in the chamber steadfastly ignored it. All save Lukas, who chose to stand on it, knowing how uncomfortable it would make everyone else.
It hadn’t taken long for the other jarls to gather. They were grateful for anything that interrupted the tedium. None of them met Lukas’ gaze except Krakendoom, who nodded tersely to him as he entered the chamber.
They growled and snarled over the news he had brought. ‘It is almost impossible to conceive,’ Krakendoom said. ‘They are daring, these xenos.’ He looked around. ‘What do they gain by testing us so?’
‘What does it matter?’ Redmaw said contemptuously. ‘They dared, so they must die.’ Others growled in agreement.
‘They did the same to Chogoris, long ago,’ Galerunner said. He leaned on his staff. He was the only Rune Priest present, though he spoke for them all. ‘They stole away much from our brothers, whole generations of kin and potential aspirants. We cannot allow that to happen here. Whatever the cost to us, future generations must be preserved.’
‘We must hunt them and dash their brains upon the snow,’ Redmaw roared, slamming his fists on the meeting table. The stone cracked, and he hit it again. ‘Skin them and make totems from their bones.’
‘Redmaw has the right of it,’ Goresson growled. ‘We should loose the packs and sweep them from the hearthworld.’ He looked at Grimblood. ‘You hold the Aett, brother. But howl, and we shall lope forth and make the snow red.’
‘Agreed,’ Grimblood said. He looked around. ‘A full four Great Companies stand ready to defend the hearthworld. But these enemies do not come in the spirit of honest war. They will not allow us to bring them to battle. So we must go hunting.’ He gestured sharply. ‘One company will remain at the Fang, ready to lend aid wherever it might be needed. And to await the moment when communications are once more free of the Helwinter’s grip. The system fleet must be alerted.’
‘And who will that be?’ Redmaw growled. Lukas could tell he was already readying himself to argue. The jarl glared about him, stinking of challenge.
‘Me,’ Grimblood said bluntly. ‘Someone must coordinate your efforts. I will do it.’ The other jarls growled their appreciation of the sacrifice. He gestured dismissively. ‘Galerunner is right – nothing matters save the preservation of Fenris and its people. There is glory aplenty in the universe, but only one Fenris.’
‘Well said,’ Krakendoom grunted.
‘For once,’ Redmaw remarked.
Grimblood ignored him. ‘Divide your companies as you see fit. Protect what you can. Avenge what you must. Let no xenos survive our fury. Feed them to the winds and the waves, as befits such filth.’ He heaved himself to his feet. ‘This is our place. Our territory. We shall teach them the folly of stealing meat from the wolf’s jaws.’
Fists struck the table as the Wolf Lords howled their assent. Once a decision was rea
ched, they moved swiftly. They had the scent, and they would follow it until they tasted blood. Granted, given the foe they were facing, that might take longer than they hoped. Lukas laughed at the thought of Redmaw racing blind through the storm, chasing shadows.
‘You find this amusing, Trickster?’ Galerunner said. He and Grimblood had remained behind when the others dispersed. ‘You think this a fine jest?’
‘And if I do?’ Lukas said.
Galerunner frowned. ‘Innocents will die.’
‘Innocents die every day on this world. You and yours have seen to that.’
‘Enough,’ Grimblood said, before Galerunner could reply. ‘Attend me, Strifeson. I would speak with you, warrior to warrior.’
Lukas hesitated, then stalked after Grimblood. The Wolf Lord led him to the immense firepit that warmed the hall. It was set at an angle against the far wall. During feasts, meat would occasionally be roasted over it. Grimblood stared into the flames. ‘You needle one of your only allies in this citadel.’
‘He is not my ally,’ Lukas said flatly. ‘He serves another.’ He smiled. ‘Did you know it was old Stormcaller who tested my worthiness? The Lord of Runes and the Slayer both have had their snouts in my affairs since the beginning.’
‘And you think you are alone in that?’ Grimblood asked. ‘We are all weighed down by fate, Trickster. We are the heroes of unwritten sagas, and our spirits are marked for greatness. Even yours.’
‘Saw that in your ashes and sparks, then?’
‘When I was a child, I heard voices in the fire,’ Grimblood said softly. ‘Some would scream, and others would sing. I thought the voices had died with the old me. But they came back, twice as loud. The fire has something in it – a power. It raises up, and casts down. More, every fire comes from the same place. It is all connected. And it is those connections that I see.’ He looked up at Lukas. ‘A cascade of moments, the ashes of future fires as yet unlit. I have seen your fire, Lukas.’
Lukas felt a chill run through him. Despite his mockery of Grimblood’s supposed gifts, he knew there was some truth to them.
‘I have seen your wyrd in the flames, Trickster.’
‘I know my wyrd, jarl. And I follow it already.’
‘Even you are not so arrogant as to think you can truly choose your own fate, Strifeson. You play at being outside the skein, as if you have no place. But we both know better, don’t we?’
‘The only thing I know is that I don’t know anything.’
‘Then know this – your thread is soon to be cut short.’ Grimblood didn’t smile as he spoke, but his eyes glinted merrily. ‘I saw your heart burst, in the flames. You will die, and gloriously. Your name will live forever in the halls of the Aett, a hero to those who come after.’ He leaned forward, teeth bared in a snarl of satisfaction. ‘You will die, and we will forget the Jackalwolf, and remember only the saga of Lukas the hero.’
Lukas glared at him. ‘Will you cut my thread yourself, then, jarl?’ He spread his arms. ‘Come then, cut it. Eat my hearts and scatter my bones to guide you to a more convivial future, if you wish.’
‘You are angry, Strifeson. And yet, this is fate.’ Grimblood laughed. ‘Though it lessens me to admit it, I must say that I am filled with good cheer. I had feared that one of us might snap your neck in a rage, but it seems the Rune Priests were right. You have a mighty wyrd ahead of you, and I think it has finally come around at last.’
Lukas tensed, anger flooding his veins like boiling magma. He wanted to leap and tear, to teach Grimblood a lesson in violence. The kill-urge rose, and his lips peeled back from his teeth. Grimblood continued to laugh, though Lukas knew the Wolf Lord could sense his growing rage. Grimblood swept a hand through the flames, causing them to rise up in strange, crackling shapes.
‘It is almost fitting that it comes now, against foes such as these, slippery as they are. They are almost as tricky as you. Perhaps more so. Perhaps you have met your match at last. There is no shame in it. Morkai pads after us all, from the highest to the lowest.’
Lukas grunted and tore his gaze away from the flames. He quashed the kill-urge, forcing it down. His hands curled into fists, and he held them tight to his sides. Grimblood was watching him, his amber gaze reflecting the light of the flames. ‘You are trying to prick my pride,’ Lukas said. ‘To catch me in another trap of words, as you did before.’
‘A weapon from your armoury,’ Grimblood said. ‘Is it working?’
‘What do you want of me?’
‘I want you tamed, Strifeson.’ Grimblood’s smile faded. ‘I do not hate you, brother. But I do not understand you. You have it in you to be a warrior of renown, fit for service in any jarl’s Wolf Guard. Even that of the Great Wolf’s company. Grimnar himself has spoken often of your skill. And yet you are content to remain… this.’
Lukas stared into the flames. ‘It is my wyrd,’ he said after long moments.
Grimblood stared at him. Then he nodded tersely. ‘So Galerunner says. And the flames say you will die, and so you must. But there is purpose in death. You have alerted us to the enemy in our midst, and we will harry them from our lands. You will harry them.’
Lukas looked at him. A slow grin spread across his face. ‘Me?’
Grimblood nodded. ‘I will unleash the packs, yours among them.’ He gestured. ‘This is my gift to you, on your death-day. Freedom, to run and hunt where you wish. Turn your tricks on them, Jackalwolf. Make them regret the moment they decided to intrude upon our hunting grounds. I think it will mean your doom, but I suspect you will not refuse.’
Lukas laughed. Then he bowed low. ‘My thanks, Jarl Grimblood. I shall bring you a scalp-price equal to that boon.’
‘I want nothing save word that you have met your wyrd at last.’ Grimblood turned away. He motioned towards the doors. ‘Go, Lukas. Run while you can, and do as you must. Your doom races to meet you, and I would not see you miss it.’
Halvar was waiting for him outside the chamber. ‘You are in one piece,’ he said, sweeping greasy locks out of his face. ‘Allfather be praised.’
Lukas glanced at the Blood Claw. ‘You sound like you mean that, pup.’
Halvar stared at him. ‘Why wouldn’t I?’ He slapped the blade at his hip, making the totems attached to the sheath rattle. ‘This is by far the most fun I have had since I passed my trials.’ He grinned. ‘You have led us a crooked path, Trickster, but it is no bad thing. We all think so.’
‘Even Ake?’
Halvar grunted. ‘Maybe not Ake. I think he meant to challenge Kadir, before you arrived. But your presence appears to have put him off.’ He smiled mirthlessly. ‘It would have been a shame if one of them had killed the other.’
Lukas laughed. ‘You think it would have come to that?’
Halvar nodded. ‘Ake only respects strength. Kadir is too cautious for his liking.’
‘And what do you think?’
Halvar shrugged. ‘It doesn’t matter to me which of them is in charge. So long as it isn’t me. Or Dag.’ He shook his head. ‘I have never fought the eldar before. Is there much glory in it?’
Lukas frowned. ‘Some.’ He scrubbed at his scalp and glanced back at the chamber. Grimblood’s words hung heavy in his mind. Death didn’t bother him – Morkai caught up with even the fastest warrior eventually. But the thought of his death becoming just another saga to feed the Rout’s ego was a hard one. ‘We won’t learn from this, you know. We will win, because we can do no less. But every victory comes with a cost, and it is a bit steeper every time. We boast of Fenris’ sovereignty, of how enemies fear to come against us. And yet here they are, raiding us at their leisure.’
‘And we will punish them for that arrogance.’
‘Not all of them. They’ll run, because that’s what they do. And we’ll claim we defeated them. We’ll howl a song of triumph, and forget everything else.’
Hal
var sighed and played with his totems. ‘You might be right, for what it’s worth. We are arrogant, and we never seem to learn the lessons the Allfather tries to teach us.’ He tapped a set of rune-etched fangs. ‘We are humbled again and again, and every time we climb back up onto the pedestal.’ He looked at Lukas. ‘But did you ever wonder if that was the true lesson?’
Lukas was silent for long moments. Then he laughed. ‘We chase weighty prey, my brother. It will feed us well, if we catch it.’
Halvar snorted. ‘When.’
Lukas clapped him on the back. ‘Spoken like a true son of Russ. Let’s go.’
‘Aren’t we going to rejoin the others?’ Halvar asked as he followed Lukas down the corridor.
‘Yes, but one stop first.’
‘Stop?’
‘The armoury, Halvar. If we are going hunting, we will need the proper equipment.’
Every Great Company had its own armoury, and the Grimbloods were no different. It was located through a narrow cleft cut into the substance of the Hould. The augurs in Lukas’ battle-plate noted the heat of rerouted power conduits, and his autosenses compensated automatically for the spillage of steam that hung thick in the air. He detected faint tremors in the walls and floor, the echoes of tectonic upheaval.
Hidden sensors flickered to life as they passed through the cleft, scanning them and taking note of the identity signatures of their battle-plate. A set of heavy iron doors shuddered back into rough slots cut into either side of the cleft. A well-lit stone chamber waited beyond. Racks and rows of weapons in partial states of repair were visible. Purifying incense spewed from small grates, filling the air with a thick, sweet fug.
Metal clanked, and a pair of gun-servitors trudged into view from behind the racks. The hulking automatons had been men, once. Now, condemned for some unknown crime, they were twisted out of shape by hundreds of cybernetic modifications designed to increase strength and durability. Halvar grunted in disgust. ‘Russ’ bones,’ he growled, reaching for the hilt of his blade. Lukas caught his wrist.
Lukas the Trickster Page 18
