Lukas the Trickster

by Josh Reynolds

  Kadir peered at him. ‘You’re just doing this to spite Grimblood, aren’t you? To steal the honour of victory from him.’

  Lukas laughed. ‘We’ll take that camp and use what we find out to strike the others. Go for their throat, while Grimblood and the others distract them.’ He clapped Kadir on the shoulder. ‘Cheer up. It will be glorious.’ He activated his vox-implant. ‘Ake?’

  ‘Are you finished chewing whatever bone of contention was occupying you?’ Ake voxed in reply. The Blood Claw sounded impatient. Lukas smirked.

  ‘A good meal takes time, Ake. Are you in position?’

  ‘When do we attack?’

  ‘I’ll take that as a yes. As soon as you see the signal.’

  ‘What signal?’

  ‘You’ll know it when you see it. Vox silence from here.’ He cut the channel, more to silence Ake’s frustrated growling than out of any worry of detection.

  ‘You shouldn’t bait him,’ Kadir murmured.

  ‘It would help if he didn’t snap it up so readily.’ Lukas checked his plasma pistol. It had a full charge. ‘Ready?’

  Kadir rose to one knee and checked the load of his bolter. ‘Would it matter if I said no?’ Then, a moment later, ‘I’ll take the left.’

  ‘I’ll take the right. Stay alert, pup.’

  ‘Try not to get killed, Strifeson.’

  ‘I wouldn’t give Grimblood the satisfaction.’ Lukas sprang off the floe and landed on the ice proper. It creaked beneath him, the surface cracking and reforming in moments. He moved swiftly, if carefully, taking advantage of the thrusting ridges of ice. He knew Kadir would be doing the same on the opposite side.

  From what he had learned from their captive, he knew there weren’t many eldar in this camp. A few dozen, all belonging to one particular kabal. They were worse than Fenrisians when it came to cooperating – which made things easy.

  He pulled his doppelgangrel pelt closer about him as he sneaked through the ice. The oily furs bent the light around him in strange ways, twisting even his shadow out of proportion. If he moved right, he was all but invisible. It was like a dance, of sorts, one he had learned through trial and error. The cracking of the ice, the whine of the wind, it was all the music that he danced to. He twisted and shuffled, scrambling across the ice. Never stopping, even when a Venom howled overhead, racing back to the camp.

  Lukas leapt into the vehicle’s shadow and loped after it, using the hum of its engines as cover. The mimetic field couldn’t be the only protection the camp had. There might be some form of power field as well, or automated defences. Unless they were more arrogant than he assumed.

  As it turned out, they were. The only defences were several bored-

  looking guards, crouched safely behind the field, playing some sort of game to pass the time. The eldar were more concerned with their entertainment than what might be approaching their camp. Though given their reaction times, that meant little – they were faster than any normal human.

  He crouched, just a leap and a run from the flickering pylons of the mimetic field. He studied them. Each of the pylons was a thin tower of black metal, and all were connected by strands of conductive cable. Lukas knew from previous experience that the field was generated by the peculiar resonation of these cables. Take out one in just the right way, and the field would collapse.

  It was hard to see anything beyond them, but what he could see told him that the camp was easy meat. Crude tents made from some fleshy material rose like hills beyond the pylons, arranged in concentric circles. The arc of each circle was broken at intervals by steel cage-domes. Lukas didn’t have a clear line of sight, but he knew what those would contain. Prisoners, or beasts meant for the arenas in the Hel-hole this breed of xenos called home.

  A muffled howl rose over the camp, and he grinned. He thought of the Blackmane they had freed earlier, and wondered how many of those brutes the eldar had captured. They would regret that. The grin was wiped off his face when he heard a sound behind him. He didn’t whirl, or give any sign he had heard it.

  It had been an exhalation. Soft. Like a sigh. His hackles rose, and the earlier feeling of being watched returned. He eased his hand towards his plasma pistol. Somewhere close by, something giggled. Lukas’ eyes flickered to the side, seeking the origins of the sound. Nothing there. Just a spray of colour across the ice. The sensation faded, and he snorted. ‘Well, whoever you are, I hope you enjoy the show.’

  He crept forward, moving with the gusting snow. His pelt flapped in the wind, and he wondered, not for the first time, what an observer might see. Whatever it was, it was usually sufficient to keep him from getting shot, and that was enough for him. He unhooked a krak grenade from his combat harness and armed it.

  He tossed the grenade, aiming for the point where the closest pylon sank into the ice. The grenade struck the pylon, bounced once, and exploded as it dropped to the ice. As the echoes of the explosion faded, he heard the guards shouting. They were alert now.

  A moment later, the pylon groaned and the ice cracked. With a sound like a blade entering flesh, the pylon dropped out of sight, sinking beneath the ice. It dragged its cables with it, and the mimetic field sparked and warped. The nearest pylons voiced their displeasure as they turned on their anchoring bolts, further disrupting the stability of the ice. From nearby, Lukas heard the reverberations of a second explosion – Kadir making his own entrance. He rose to his feet and unhooked a pair of frag grenades.

  Lukas activated the grenades as he ran towards the gap. Water spurted from the ruptures, and the ice was shuddering. Even so, the xenos were still on their feet. Lukas leapt over a heaving crack in the ice and landed among them. He tossed the grenades blind, not caring where they went. He needed noise and confusion.

  More explosions ripsawed through the air as he dispatched the guards. Several got shots off, but to no avail. Lukas smashed them down with his claw and his fist. He drove a kick into the midsection of the last, snapping the eldar’s spine with the force of the blow. More of them were coming, but most were heading for their vehicles. ‘Kadir,’ he voxed.

  ‘I’ve got them.’ Explosions shook the camp.

  Lukas hurried towards the closest cage, rolling several grenades down the makeshift alleyways and into open tents as he passed, riding the confusion that resulted. The vox crackled, and he knew the rest of the Blood Claws were joining the fun. They would ensure that no one got out of the camp alive.

  When he reached the first of the cages, the wolves were howling. Four of them, Blackmanes all. Lukas easily tore the cage apart. The wolves streaked past him without so much as a baleful look. He heard shouts and screams echoing up from among the tents, and pressed deeper into the camp. Every cage he passed, he tore open. There were elk as well, and in one, one of the great white bears that prowled the high crags.

  Most of the beasts would flee, but some, maddened by captivity, would seek the closest source of blood. All to the good. The eldar might kill them all eventually, but by then Lukas’ hand would be at their throat.

  Smoke boiled through the camp. Several of the tents were burning – Einar’s doing, probably. Lukas heard the clash of weapons, and Ake’s voice, bellowing curses. He loped towards the sound. Perhaps the Blood Claw had found what they were looking for.

  He found Ake struggling with a knot of eldar. The warriors surrounded him, darting in and attacking by turns, keeping him off balance. Lukas didn’t hesitate. He drew his plasma pistol and fired, catching one of the eldar between the shoulder blades. Two of the xenos broke ranks and sped towards Lukas, snapping off shots from their splinter pistols as they ran. He twisted aside, the splinters tearing through a tent, and met them, laughing.

  ‘Some fun, eh?’ Lukas shouted to Ake as he sent one of his opponents sprawling. He cracked his head against that of his other foe. The xenos staggered, and Lukas kicked its legs out from under it and stamped on its throat.


  His plasma pistol hummed, signalling that it was ready to fire again. He took aim and fired, but his target skidded beneath the coruscating beam. It came up, both hands wrapped around the hilt of a curved blade. The blade skidded across his chest-plate and snapped. Lukas backhanded the startled alien warrior. He glanced down and saw that its weapon had carved a gouge in the ceramite. ‘Luck of the Russ, eh?’ He looked at Ake. ‘Seen any wolves yet? I freed several.’

  ‘I was distracted by the kraken,’ Ake snarled, his chainblade growling as he bisected an eldar warrior. The survivors were falling back, snapping off shots as they retreated. Lukas heard the boom of boltguns, and knew the other Blood Claws were hard at their task. Suddenly, Ake’s words penetrated.

  ‘Kraken?’

  ‘There,’ Ake said, gesturing. Lukas turned and caught sight of the ring of heavy pillars of black metal rising from the ice, sunk by the eldar to create an improvised cage. Something black thrashed above the tops of the pillars. Lukas grinned.

  ‘The Allfather does have a sense of humour. Cover me!’

  ‘What–Lukas!’

  Lukas ignored Ake’s shouts and ploughed towards the cage, smashing aside any eldar who sought to block his path. He could feel the ice trembling beneath him as he ran. The kraken was shifting in its pen, agitated by the smell of blood in the air. Finding one here wasn’t so strange. Occasionally the beasts would be swept inland during the Helwinter and become trapped in endorheic basins such as this one, or even in the deeper rivers. They would live and grow, so long as they fed regularly. This one looked like it had been eating well.

  When he got closer, he saw just what it had been eating. The pillars had been strung with barbed chains, and from these hung the torn remains of dozens of bodies. The mortals had died in agony, stripped of meat and limbs by a ravenous kraken as they dangled over its prison. Lukas took aim at the waterline with his plasma pistol. All he had to do was weaken the pillars. The kraken would do the rest.

  The searing beam of plasma caressed the ice, reducing it to a chill mist. Water splashed up as the kraken sensed the sudden change in temperature and struck the pillars, and the metal gave with a squeal. Ice split as the kraken seized on the weakness in its pen and shoved at the pillars. The creature dove down and began to squeeze itself beneath them, the ice at Lukas’ feet bucking.

  A few seconds later, it exploded upwards through the ice, its beak snapping. Lukas turned and ran. The kraken surged in his wake. He led it a merry chase through the tents, staying just ahead of it. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw it catch a running eldar and drag the screaming alien through a crack in the ice.

  A Venom swooped overhead, its weapons hissing. Lukas threw himself forward and rolled out of the way, splinter fire chewing the ice behind him. The kraken exploded upwards, its oil-black tentacles slapping the vehicle from the air with a screech of abused metal. The Venom crashed, and a wave of fire erupted as its anti-gravity engine went up. Lukas staggered as the ice jumped beneath him. He turned and saw a tentacle slashing down towards him. ‘Skítja,’ he muttered.

  Someone tackled him out of the way just before the tentacle slammed down. Lukas and his rescuer rolled to their feet in a spray of ice chips and water vapour. ‘Hello, Dag. Funny meeting you here,’ Lukas said.

  Dag laughed. ‘I saw the kraken and thought it was time I returned that favour I owed you.’ A splinter round struck the Blood Claw’s shoulder-plate and he twisted around, firing his bolt pistol. Chuckling, Lukas fired his plasma pistol at one of the darting shapes. Without waiting to see whether he had killed it, he turned to Dag.

  ‘Find the chattel pens. If there are any mortals in them, get as many out as you can.’

  ‘What about you?’

  ‘There’s a communications node somewhere in this camp. I’m going to find it.’ Lukas pushed past him and was off before the Blood Claw could reply.

  The camp was in an uproar, as he had intended. The eldar had thought themselves safe. Now they were being dragged under the shifting ice by something far worse than any warrior of the Rout. The kraken was hungry, and angry, and any xenos that escaped the Blood Claws wasn’t going to make it far. Not to mention the Blackmanes he saw prowling through the tents at a distance, or the white bear he could hear bellowing somewhere close by. ‘Fenris eats the weak,’ he murmured.

  The memories he had ingested led him to the heart of the camp. A central tent three times as large as any of the others had been erected over a metal framework. Stooping beneath the flap, Lukas entered a circular space. Metal walkways followed a hexagonal pattern to what resembled a central vox-relay system, as designed by a lunatic. Several eldar stood around it.

  They turned as he entered, and Lukas shot the one in the middle. The dying xenos fell back into the array, and sparks cascaded down, spilling across the ice. The other two drew weapons and fired, forcing him to duck back out of the tent. He could hear voices echoing through the hum of static emanating from the array.

  Thinking quickly, he unhooked one of his remaining frag grenades, thumbed the activation rune and sent it tumbling into the tent. The concussive blast blew out its sides, and cracks zigzagged out from beneath it as he backed away.

  A moment later, something dark and massive passed beneath him. He heard the crunch of splintering ice and the shriek of breaking metal before the burning tent and whatever was left of the array were dragged underwater by a forest of black tentacles.

  ‘Lukas.’

  Lukas turned. Kadir stood behind him. His battle-plate was streaked with gore. ‘It’s time to go.’ His gaze strayed to the smouldering mass of the tent as it slowly slipped beneath the broken surface. ‘What happened?’

  ‘They got an alert off.’ Lukas shrugged apologetically. ‘I wasn’t quick enough.’

  ‘All the more reason to put some distance between us and this camp.’

  ‘Not before we grab some of those corpses,’ Lukas said. ‘Contact the others. Many hands make for swift work.’

  ‘What? Why?’ Kadir stared at him. ‘What are you planning?’

  Lukas gave a cold smile. ‘I want to send a message.’

  Chapter Seventeen

  WOLF’S MARK

  641.M41

  The dark eldar base camp was, to Jhynkar’s eyes, a sprawling nightmare of primitivism. The corsairs had taken over the mon-keigh steading at their captain’s behest, but they had not left it in one piece. While the Sky Serpents had more experience of living off the land than the average Commorrite, neither group was particularly suited to it. So, in the best traditions of the Eternal City, they had decided to make the slaves do all the hard work.

  The aboriginal palisades had been torn down and repurposed into gantries and towers of timber that acted as berths for hovering Raiders and Venoms. When the palisade posts ran short, trees were uprooted from the surrounding forest and added to the pile. Humans toiled beneath the watchful gazes of Sslyth overseers or Jhynkar’s wracks.

  He had donated the services of the latter, hoping to scoop up any humans who faltered before the Sslyth pounced on them. There weren’t as many as he might have hoped. Most of the healthy chattel were being used to entertain the corsairs and kabalite warriors who had drawn guard duty. The others had been put to work, or else killed out of hand as a warning to the rest. That warning hadn’t permeated fully, however. For humans, these savages were hardier than expected, both in body and mind.

  Jhynkar strode across the muddy ground towards the slave pens, careful to avoid getting any dirt on the hem of his robes. A trio of wracks followed him, their black iron helms turning this way and that warily as they scanned the curtain of falling snow for any threat. While the power fields now protecting the camp kept out the worst of the weather, some of it nonetheless got through.

  He froze as the crackle of splinter fire split the frosty air. His wracks shifted nervously, gripping their tools more tightly. He let h
is hand drift down to the chunky-barrelled blast-pistol thrust through a loop on his apron. Ordinarily he was reluctant to sully his hands with a tool of such utilitarian purpose, but over the past few days the camp had quickly devolved into a lawless morass of bored Commorrites and their retinues.

  The enthusiasm for the expedition was waning as reports of more lethal resistance came in, and many of the Duke’s guests itched to return to their ships and Commorragh. Fights had broken out as old rivalries rose up. The makeshift streets ran red as grudges were settled. Sliscus seemed more amused by his guests’ murderous behaviour than anything else. Jhynkar suspected the Duke had intended for it to occur – or had at least prepared for it.

  He frowned as he hurried on, hoping to get out of the open before whatever was going to happen, happened. Sliscus had, for all intents and purposes, made this world into a larger version of his tesseract garden. They were all trapped here at his mercy, forced to strive against their prey, against the elements and now each other, all for his entertainment.

  No one else saw it. Not yet. Sliscus was too smart for that. And the other dark eldar were too blinded by their own petty ambitions to understand that this party had never been for their benefit, but for Sliscus’ own amusement. He was bored. And when he became bored, worlds burned.

  That, in the end, was why Jhynkar was so eager to escape. It was becoming more difficult to keep the Serpent diverted. Soon he might narrow the bite of his boredom to include smaller, more intimate worlds. Jhynkar had heard the stories – all who served the Duke had – of corsair ships fired on at a whim and left rolling in the dark, venting flame, or loyal captains butchered because some witticism had offended the Duke’s ever-changing sensibilities.

  One of his wracks grunted a warning, and Jhynkar paused. He flinched back as he saw several corsairs charge towards him in pursuit of a hairy primitive. The creature gave him a wide berth, racing for an area where the power fields weren’t yet in place. The trees had not been cleared there.