The hall was entirely aflame now. Chunks of burning thatch pattered across his armour as he blocked a sudden slash. The xenos retreated instantly, sinking away into the lee of a support beam. Flames washed across the floor, separating them.
Behind him, Dag howled. Kadir spun and saw one of the creatures behind the other Blood Claw, its hooked blade buried in the small of his back. It wrenched the weapon free and ceramite parted as if it were no thicker than paper. The Blood Claw fell forward, his weapons clattering from his grip.
Einar bellowed as his brother fell, and his flamer roared. The shadow-
warrior screamed as fire enveloped its angular form. Einar reached down, hooked one of Dag’s arms, and began to drag him towards the doors. ‘Help,’ he barked. Halvar leapt to aid him, firing his bolt pistol at the shadows seeking to overwhelm them.
There were Mandrakes everywhere, slipping out of every shadow, their weapons shimmering with a dark radiance. The sound of their hissing laughter was loud as they closed in on the Blood Claws, moving through the flames and smoke like wraiths. Kadir emptied his bolter, sweeping it around in a wide arc.
He staggered, dropping the empty weapon, as something slid between the plates of his armour and into the meat of his side. He snarled, spitting blood, and turned, drawing his chainblade. A burst of plasma sent his attacker toppling away before he could strike. Lukas was there, steadying him. ‘Time to go, brother.’ He started towards the doors.
‘What about Ake?’ Kadir demanded.
Lukas didn’t look at him. ‘Ake is dead,’ he snarled. ‘If you don’t want to join him, you’d best tuck tail and run.’
‘They’re running,’ Sliscus said. He pounded a fist on the rail. ‘Look at them go!’
The grey-armoured warriors had burst out of the burning hall in a flurry of shots, killing those corsairs who tried to intervene. He had hoped that by driving them all into one place he had made things easier for the Mandrakes. Instead, it seemed that the shadow-killers’ reputation was vastly inflated. The Space Wolves had left one of their number behind, but the rest were still breathing. Including the one with the red hair.
That one was special. He had known it as soon as he saw him. The others were brutes, but that one – that one had a look in his eyes. A certain cunning to his features. He had reacted quickly, far quicker in fact than Sliscus had anticipated. He had hoped to draw the wolves out later, after the steading had been burned. A smoking ruin made for an ideal ambush site. He could have enjoyed their despair at the sight of the dead even as they were cut down unawares. Instead, they had interrupted his warriors at their labour.
He had been forced to react swiftly, sending the Mandrakes in while their prey was on the alert. Even so, it had proved immensely entertaining. He turned to look at the others. ‘Astounding. I wasn’t aware they had the wit to retreat.’
‘They are smart, these wolves,’ Malys said. ‘Or perhaps your trap was simply sloppy, Traevelliath.’ She sat at her accustomed place, watching the fray with detached amusement. Annoyance flared in him.
‘Our trap, Aurelia. Or have you forgotten that those are your Mandrakes who failed to kill them?’ Sliscus flung out a hand, indicating the shadow-shape that slowly emerged onto the deck of the Raider. He turned to face the spindly creature. He felt little of the instinctive fear that afflicted many in Commorragh when it came to the shadow-skinned natives of Aelindrach. ‘Well? What have you to say for yourself, you ambulatory oil slick?’
Whatever reply the shadow-creature had been about to offer was cut short by a blast from Sliscus’ splinter pistol. He had drawn and fired before the creature could speak. The Mandrake slumped back and toppled from the deck with barely a sound. Sliscus holstered his weapon with a disdainful sniff. The shadow-skins died as easily as anything else, whatever their reputation. ‘Call off the others. Let them go for the moment.’
Malys cleared her throat. ‘Is that wise? We could easily catch them.’
Sliscus looked at her. ‘And what would be the fun of that?’ He looked back towards the burning hall. ‘They slipped our trap – it seems only fitting I give them a head start. Then we will pursue them.’
‘Will you send the Mandrakes after them?’ Malys asked.
‘Yes. Let them finish what they started.’ Sliscus tapped his lips speculatively.
‘They will, have no fear of that.’
He turned to her, smiling. ‘Your confidence lightens my spirit, Aurelia. And since you are so sure in the success of the creepers, it seems only fitting that you should follow them and bring me my prize when they are finished with it.’ He paused. ‘Or before, if possible.’
‘Am I to go alone?’ she asked. She seemed somewhat discomfited. Good. Aurelia was infuriatingly sure of herself on occasion. At times it was necessary to remind her that cunning as she was, he was more so.
‘No. What sort of host would I be if I didn’t ensure your safety?’ Sliscus motioned to Sleg. ‘You will accompany her. Take as many of your coil-kin as you think best. I want the leader’s pelt intact.’ The Sslyth nodded slowly. Sliscus looked at Malys. ‘Take one of the Venoms.’
‘Several would be better.’
‘I don’t have several to spare, Aurelia. I expect you will figure out some way of accomplishing your task, even with such meagre resources.’ He smiled at her. ‘Be off with you, my dear. You know how impatient I get.’
Chapter Nineteen
SHADOW DEATH
641.M41
‘Well, I’m not going to lie – that could have gone better,’ Lukas said as he helped Kadir lay Dag down. There was no trace of humour in his voice. He looked around.
The cave was small, as caves went. It was little more than a gouge in the mountainside. They had fled north, leading their hunters away from where they had left Hetha and the others. Lukas hoped the shield-maiden would be smart enough to take her people far from the area. Either way, there was little they could do to help the mortals now.
Dag groaned. His blood spattered the stones, refusing to clot. His Larraman’s Organ had been damaged by the eldar’s blade, and the wound wasn’t closing the way it should. Lukas could smell Morkai’s breath on the air. The great black wolf was panting at the cave’s threshold, waiting. He wouldn’t have to do so for long.
‘We shouldn’t have run,’ Kadir said, his voice hoarse. ‘Not like that. Not like whipped curs.’ He crouched on his haunches, flexing his hands until the servos in his gauntlets whined in protest. He was taking Ake’s death hard. Kadir had fancied himself the leader of his little pack, but Ake had been the fire in its heart.
‘And how would you have done it?’ Lukas growled.
Kadir didn’t look at him. In that moment, the Blood Claws felt Ake’s loss keenly. Kadir should have snapped at Lukas. Snarled at him. But he didn’t have the same fire Ake had. None of them did. Halvar pulled his helmet off with a convulsive motion. The dirge began with him, but pulled in the others, even Dag. A groaning, growling rumble of wordless sorrow. Lukas hunched himself against the sound, as if it were a chill wind.
Part of him wanted to join them. But another part knew that he could not. For all that they had shared in these past weeks, he wasn’t truly part of the pack. Could never be a part of any pack. So he sat in silence, waiting until the echoes had faded. ‘If we had stayed, we would be dead,’ Lukas said into the silence.
‘An honourable death,’ Halvar said hoarsely. He stroked his totems, seeking reassurance. ‘A good death. Our deeds remembered in saga and song.’
‘And are our deeds etched in stone, then, or in snow?’ Dag grunted as he tried to haul himself up. ‘Will they be forgotten now? Tell me that, then.’ He laughed mirthlessly. His arms gave out and he sank back with a disgruntled groan. ‘I can’t feel my legs.’
‘That’s what happens when someone lays your spine open,’ Lukas said, almost gently. ‘Stop complaining. You don’t see Einar co
mplaining, and he’s got three blades sticking in him.’ That Einar was still upright was more luck than anything else.
‘Hurts,’ Einar said, levering a hooked blade out of his side. The unnatural blade had sunk into the shadowed crevices of his battle-plate, seeking flesh with a preternatural precision. He cast it aside and reached for the next one.
Lukas had to help him with the last one, high up on his back and resting against the exhaust port of his power pack. Einar grunted in pain as the blade popped free. Lukas hefted it. ‘It’s only half real,’ he said wonderingly.
‘Felt real,’ Einar growled.
Lukas tossed the weapon away and glanced towards Dag. ‘You’re dying, brother,’ he said bluntly.
Dag closed his eyes. His breathing was laboured. ‘I know,’ he said, his voice thick with pain. ‘My own fault. I didn’t see it.’
‘No. Mine.’ Lukas grimaced. ‘And you have no idea how much it pains me to say that.’ He ran his hands through his hair. ‘They’ll be coming for us.’
‘Hunting us, you mean,’ Kadir said.
‘Yes,’ Lukas said. He smiled thinly. ‘Can’t say I like the feeling.’ He peered towards the aperture to the cave, taking note of the way the shadows lengthened. His hackles rose. There was a scent on the wind – not a physical smell, not quite, but an iron tang that put him in mind of deep places and dark waters. They hadn’t come as far as he might have liked. ‘They’ll be on our heels. We need a plan.’
‘Fight,’ Einar said. He clicked a fresh promethium canister into place with bloody fingers and gave his dragon a fond pat. ‘Kill.’ Of all the Blood Claws, he looked the least affected by what had happened, despite the injuries he had sustained. Of course, it was always hard to tell what Einar was thinking.
‘I like that plan,’ Kadir said. Halvar nodded fiercely, his totems clattering. The Blood Claws were eager for retribution now. Lukas could smell the kill-urge rising from them. The need to wash away their failure in blood. He felt the same himself.
‘Lacks subtlety,’ he said. ‘They can kill us with our own shadows, those ones. Rushing them, fangs bared, is a good way to get our throats cut.’ He tapped the side of his head. ‘No, what’s called for here is a cunning plan.’
‘So it’s hopeless, then?’ Dag said. His laughter turned to a wracking cough.
Lukas peered at him. ‘Hope is the mother of invention.’ He reached down and unhooked a long cylindrical canister grenade from his combat harness. ‘Photon grenades. I borrowed a few from old Thymr. Handy things to have, just in case I need to run away with my tail between my legs.’ He gave a lopsided grin. ‘Never thought of using them this way, though.’
‘What good are flash grenades going to be against those things?’ Kadir asked.
‘Light,’ Einar grunted.
‘Ha! Yes, light,’ Lukas said. ‘How better to fight shadow-devils than with good, honest light?’
Dag forced himself upright. ‘And how are we going to get them into the light? Ask nicely?’ He coughed again. ‘Those things are quick enough to cut a frag grenade in half before it’s activated. We’ll have to surprise them.’
‘I know.’ Lukas looked down at him. ‘We need to draw them in. Lay some poisoned meat. Wounded prey is always the hardest to resist.’
Dag frowned and sank back down. He coughed, and blood speckled his chin. ‘What do you need me to do?’
‘You will be bait,’ Lukas said. ‘You understand? They will likely kill you. Sure as sure, however the rest of this goes, you will probably die.’
Dag nodded, his lean face sweat-slick, his eyes fever-bright. ‘You never answered my question earlier,’ he said hoarsely. ‘Will we be remembered?’
‘By me, at least. And since I have no intention of dying any time soon, you’ll have immortality, of a sort.’ Lukas hesitated. Then, more reluctantly, he added, ‘There will be songs, Dag. I swear. For you and Ake. I’ll sing them myself, if I have to.’
‘Good. Then give me the grenade.’
They left Dag alone in the dark. Einar crouched out of sight and stared unblinking at his brother. Einar didn’t question the world. He merely endured it. But this was almost too much, even if his brother had agreed to it.
Dag lay on red snow, breathing shallowly, the flash grenade held tight to his chest. It was a simple enough trap. An open space, easy prey. Occasionally, Dag would make a half-hearted crawling movement, as if trying to haul himself deeper into the tunnels. A wounded beast, left behind by his packmates.
Einar tried to ignore the ache of his wounds as he concentrated on the dark. Everything hurt now. There was blood in his armour, and he could taste it in his mouth. But he would live. The xenos blades hadn’t struck anything vital.
He wished Ake were with them. This was the sort of thing he would have enjoyed. Not Dag dying, but the fighting afterwards. Though knowing Ake, he would probably have enjoyed Dag dying as well. He glanced at Kadir, crouched nearby. The other Blood Claw seemed subdued. He and Ake had always scraped against each other, like blade and whetstone. But now Ake was gone, and Kadir was off balance.
Soon Dag would be gone as well. Halvar would say it was the will of the Allfather. Einar found no comfort in that. The pack had been strong. Now it was weak. He looked at Lukas, wondering what the Trickster thought of it all.
A proximity chime sounded in his ear, and he turned, scanning the darkness. The xenos came in ones and twos, seeping from the darkness of the cave mouth. For a moment, Einar thought them nothing more than new shadows, added to the rest already filling the cave. But no shadow had ever moved with such purpose.
They surrounded Dag, looking down at him as if curious. Then, almost casually, one of them crouched and buried the wicked sickle-like blade it carried in the Blood Claw’s leg. Dag grunted, but made no other sound. The creature pulled its blade loose and struck again, higher this time. Einar realised that it was searching for a place to cause pain. The others joined in, prodding and stabbing as Dag cursed and flailed at them. They flickered and twisted, easily avoiding his clumsy blows.
Einar half rose, but Lukas caught him. He shook his head. ‘Wait, brother,’ he murmured over the vox. ‘We need to make sure they’re all in the cave.’
Einar understood, though it sat heavily on his hearts. Dag’s grunts became groans as the pain started to overwhelm him. Then, with a cry that was at once a scream of agony and a roar of fury, he set off the photon grenade. The light swelled, filling the cave, erasing every shadow save those grouped around the Blood Claw. The photo-lenses in Einar’s visor compensated automatically. The Mandrakes were abnormally thin, their dark flesh marked with scarified whorls that might have been symbols. They had manes of ratty, colourless hair, and gaunt faces that reminded him of the fish the thralls caught in deep rivers below the Aett.
One of the Mandrakes spat something that might have been a curse and plunged a blade into Dag’s skull, silencing him. Einar shook Lukas off and lunged out of hiding. He charged towards the creatures and drove the stock of his flamer into the skull of the closest. He felt bone give beneath the force of the blow, and it toppled backwards, limbs twitching. He lowered the nozzle of his flamer and caught another with a burst of heat, reducing it to greasy motes before it could scream.
Lukas and the others had followed him, exploding out of cover to fall on their startled prey. ‘Hloja!’ Lukas cried. ‘Laugh, brothers! Laugh, so that they might know how much pleasure we take in their deaths.’ He caught a Mandrake by the throat and slammed the dazed creature back against the cave wall. Before it could twist out of his grip, he rammed the talons of his wolf claw into its abdomen. It shrieked as cryonic energies surged through it, flash-freezing it inside out. He ripped his claw loose, shattering the creature.
The glare of the photon grenade was already fading. ‘Einar, more light,’ Lukas snarled. Einar obliged, filling the air with fire. The flames jetted out, blocking the exi
t to the cave. In the wash of wrathful light, Einar watched his brothers go to work.
Startled Mandrakes scrambled back and found themselves face-to-face with Kadir and Halvar. The Blood Claws fought in grim silence, warding each other from the blades of their foes. Einar set alight any creature that tried to escape the killing ground by diving into the shadows of the cave or seeking relief in those cast by his flames.
Einar turned a blow with the length of his flamer and kicked the attacking Mandrake in its midsection. The creature reeled. It slashed wildly at him, trying to keep him back. Seeing an opening, it lunged past him, seeking safety in the shadow stretching behind him. Einar pivoted, and a spurt of flame caught the creature between its shoulder blades, its head vanishing. With a wordless roar, he wrenched the struggling, screaming xenos from his shadow and cast it full into the flames.
The sounds of fighting had faded. The shadow-things were dead, or dying. Einar was relieved to see that his brothers had survived. Kadir seemed unhurt, but Halvar moved slowly, as if something inside him had been torn. Einar caught his arm. ‘Injured?’
‘Nothing I won’t live through, brother.’
Einar nodded and looked at Lukas. ‘What now?’ he growled.
‘The hunt is not done,’ Lukas said. He stared at Dag’s body, and Einar wondered what he was thinking. ‘My belly is empty of meat, but my mind is full of tricks. Let us exchange one for the other.’
‘What about Dag?’ Kadir asked, looking at the body.
Lukas grinned fiercely. ‘Oh, he’s coming too.’
Lady Malys’ hunting party found the wolf easily enough.
Too easily, as it turned out.
Surrounded by the torn corpses of several Mandrakes, the body lay where it had seemingly fallen, collapsed in the red snow. The beast had obviously been trying to make it up the slope, into the dubious safety of the caves above.
Malys was standing on the Venom’s weapons platform, and she looked around warily as she leaned over the splinter cannon to inspect the corpse. Sleg and two of his coil-kin hunched on the skimmer’s sides, and a fourth crouched in the driver’s cockpit. That the ophidians could pilot such a temperamental vessel even with the cold temperatures slowing their reactions had been something of a surprise. They were adept hunters as well, tracking the wolves across ice and snow and up into the craggy hills.
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