Lukas the Trickster

by Josh Reynolds

  Grimblood had been surprised to hear from him, of that he had no doubt. He and the other jarls would be able to track his battle-plate’s beacon right to this camp. He intended to be waiting for them with the head of the enemy commander when they arrived. That would be the greatest jest of all.

  Kadir and the others would be circling the camp, looking for weak points. When he made his move, they would join him. Or such was the plan. It had worked so far.

  Four wolves against an army. Lukas nearly choked on a laugh. Grimblood needed to hurry, or there would be none left to kill.

  The Venom slowed as it reached the heart of the steading. Malys took it down, and it landed before the remains of what had been the central hall. Lukas studied it through slitted eyes. The structure resembled the one in the Jahtvian settlement, though it was larger. It was built from stone rather than wood, and the roof was made of crudely sawed timbers rather than thatch. As the vehicle set down, the heavy doors swung open and Lukas’ quarry strode out, flanked by two more of his Sslyth bodyguards. The ophidians raised shardcarbines as the Venom’s engines shut off, but Sliscus waved a hand and they slithered back a few paces.

  ‘You’re alive, Aurelia. How wonderful.’ Sliscus spread his arms in welcome. ‘Where is Sleg, by the way?’

  ‘Dead,’ Malys said bluntly.

  ‘Disappointing. Still, that is what he was paid for. What have you brought me?’

  ‘See for yourself.’ Myrta shoved Lukas to the ground, none too gently. He bit back a snarl. Sliscus sank to his haunches. ‘This is him, then? The smart one?’

  ‘It was,’ Malys said.

  ‘I see no wounds.’

  ‘Poison,’ Malys said flatly. ‘I was forced to defend myself.’

  ‘How dreadful. Still, you have my thanks.’ Sliscus caught hold of Lukas’ hair and dragged his head up. ‘Ugly brute.’

  ‘You’re not so pleasant looking yourself,’ Lukas said. Sliscus froze. Lukas smiled. Then, with a sweep of his arm, he knocked Sliscus’ legs out from under him. Before the eldar could react, Lukas was on him, pinning him down. He twisted to look at Malys. ‘Keep the others back, witch, or you will find your wits decidedly scattered.’

  Malys cursed, but the Venom’s splinter cannon snarled. The Sslyth were hurled back, bodies shredded. The vehicle began to rise, its engine humming. It spun in a slow circle, firing. Warriors dived for cover. Shouts and cries of alarm rose up. Lukas grinned. He looked down at Sliscus. ‘You tried to kill me.’

  ‘I would have tried harder, had I known how clever you were.’ Sliscus smiled at him. ‘You even speak a civilised tongue. How delightful. Do you know who I am?’

  ‘No. Don’t care, either.’

  ‘Shame. Familiarity adds a certain… spice.’ He twisted, impossibly quick, and Lukas rocked back. Sliscus freed a hand and a blade flashed, nearly sliding between a gap in Lukas’ battle-plate. He rolled away from Sliscus as the other rose to his feet. ‘Someone do me the favour of killing him, please!’ Sliscus snapped.

  Lukas whipped his plasma pistol out and fired, knocking an eldar back. He darted for the hovering Venom, splinter fire chopping the ground around him. He caught hold of the keel just as Malys shot away from the hall. ‘He’s a quick one,’ he shouted.

  ‘And you’re a fool,’ Malys said, displaying the grenade he had attached to her armour, the sliced rawhide thongs slipping to the ground. ‘Kill him, courtesan.’ Myrta, still perched on the wing, thrust a blade down at Lukas. He cursed and let go of the Venom, tumbling across the ground in its wake. He pressed the detonator, but didn’t wait to see if the explosion claimed them. A handful of eldar raced towards him.

  Lukas rolled to his feet and darted for the cover of one of the wooden gantry towers. He pressed his back to a support pillar, waiting for the plasma pistol to reload. Splinter fire chewed the pillar to pieces around him as he counted down. ‘Three, two, one – ha!’ He lifted the pistol as its coils blazed with renewed energy. He swung out from behind the pillar, enhanced vision allowing him to analyse the targets scattered across the killing ground with instinctive ease. Quicker than thought, he selected a target and fired.

  He turned, searching. Sliscus was gone. The creature would be looking to escape. A shot caromed off his shoulder-plate and he whirled, tackling a wide-eyed corsair through an empty slave pen. The xenos folded up, nearly every bone in its elongated frame shattered by the impact. Lukas surged to his feet, swinging the body up to absorb the fire coming from the rest of the eldar as they triangulated on his position. The plasma pistol pinged, and he hurled the body aside, firing again. Three down. Four left, that he could see. Good odds.

  Two came at him close, eager to meet him blade to blade, or just desperate. They moved fast, seeming to lash out from every angle at once. Their serrated combat blades drew sparks from his ceramite as he twisted and spun, trying to match them blow for blow. They darted away from his claw, narrowly avoiding it. He could feel an itch between his shoulders – the other two were trying to get a bead on him, letting their companions get him into position. Smart meat. But not smart enough.

  His claw flashed, catching a blade. He jerked the eldar off its feet, hurling it behind him just as a splinter rifle spoke. Without waiting to see whether his aim had been true, he twisted aside, letting the other eldar’s knife hiss past his face. He lunged, burying his teeth in the soft armour that covered the xenos’ forearm. The plates cracked beneath his teeth and he tossed his head, dragging the eldar close. He shoved the barrel of the plasma pistol against his opponent’s abdomen and pulled the trigger.

  The body collapsed, wreathed in smoke, and Lukas darted deeper into the forest of wooden supports. Alarm klaxons shrieked. He could hear the boom of bolt pistols, and knew that Kadir and the others had made their move. If they could keep the xenos confused, keep them reacting, they might be able to hold them long enough for Grimblood and the other jarls to arrive. And if not… well.

  ‘Today’s as good a day as any,’ Lukas murmured. He heard running feet and stuck out an arm. A corsair slammed into him and pitched backwards, whether dead or unconscious Lukas didn’t bother to check. He stamped down on the eldar’s head just to be sure, crumpling the ornate helm and the skull within.

  Splinter fire cascaded across his chest, causing him to flinch back. He snatched a grenade from his belt and sent it bouncing in the direction the shot had come from. The explosion caused the wooden towers to groan on their supports, and he heard the panicked cries of the skiff crews above. He looked up and grinned. ‘Perfect.’

  Jhynkar hurried through the confusion. His wracks surrounded him in a protective circle, grunting nervously among themselves. The camp was seemingly under attack, though no one seemed to know by whom or how. The more pugnacious kabals were brawling in the streets, as the more paranoid waited impatiently for the webway gate to open. It wouldn’t – not until Sliscus was ready to depart.

  ‘And where is Sliscus?’ he demanded, glaring at one of the wracks. ‘Not where he ought to be, I can tell you that.’

  It was all going wrong. Of course, from great suffering came great art – generally it was someone else’s suffering, but Jhynkar was adaptable. He hurried towards his workshop, hoping to catch up with Xhact before the Hex delegation collected their prizes and departed. The mon-keigh were on the way, if they weren’t already here. The whole camp was going to be smashed flat, sooner rather than later. It was time to go.

  An explosion rocked the area, and Jhynkar stumbled. Smoke billowed across the path. He heard a dull boom and saw one of his wracks pitch backwards. Then another was punched from its feet, its head a red ruin. More booms, more dead wracks. The last of his servants turned, screaming briefly before it too joined its fellows in a bloody heap. Jhynkar huddled, his hands over his head, waiting for death.

  When it didn’t come, he looked up. A Space Wolf was looking down at him, his helmet splashed with blood. The edge of
a chainblade kissed the hollow of Jhynkar’s throat. ‘You look like you’re in charge,’ the creature rumbled in its primitive dialect. ‘Do you understand me?’

  ‘I–yes.’ Jhynkar looked around. Two more of the hulking warriors stepped into view, stinking of blood and promethium. ‘I know your tongue.’

  ‘Good. That means you can keep your head. At least for the moment. Where are the slaves kept?’

  Jhynkar saw what they wanted immediately. If they freed the slaves, there would be no way to get them loaded up on the Raiders. True, some were already huddled in the holds of the Raiders circling so impatiently above, but not all by any means. ‘You mean to… to free them? All of them?’ he asked hesitantly.

  ‘You have a problem with that?’ The axe bit into his neck, just a bit. Jhynkar swallowed. Thoughts of reaching for his blast-pistol surfaced and sank. He wouldn’t get a shot off, and he knew it.

  ‘No. No problem. Delighted to be of service.’

  A bone-rattling growl dripped from the front grill of his captor’s helmet. It took Jhynkar a moment to realise it was laughter. ‘I’m sure you are. Now up, little thing. Or we will leave you here with your fellows.’

  Jhynkar dusted off his robes as he rose, trying to muster some dignity. ‘The slave cages are controlled by a central locking node. Trying to open them one at a time will be tedious. The central node will open them all at once. Every single one. Come.’

  He started towards his workshop. The Space Marines followed warily. One of them broke away from the group at a grunt from the one in charge. It vanished into the falling snow and smoke, moving like a ghost despite its bulk. The one with the blade and the one that smelled like a waste-processing centre stayed with him. The latter kept rubbing his primitive talismans and staring at Jhynkar in an unnecessary and unnerving fashion.

  Explosions rocked the camp some moments later, the work of the Space Wolves, no doubt. Jhynkar saw the warriors of three different kabals exchanging fire in the street ahead. A few shots from his captors sent them in search of cover. He felt the thrum of electrical signals in the air about him, and knew that his captors were speaking to one another on an encrypted communications channel. This was a coordinated raid, likely the precursor to an assault.

  Jhynkar didn’t care. A plan was beginning to take shape. Like all good plans, it required very little effort on his part. All he had to do was help these creatures until such time as he could slip away. Sliscus was as good as dead once the rest of the mon-keigh arrived. Not even he could fight such odds. Jhynkar smiled. He had fulfilled his part of the bargain with Xhact, if in a wholly unforeseen way.

  Of course, he still had to escape himself. His smile faded.

  His workshop proved to be still standing, against his fears to the contrary. The Space Wolves shoved him inside. ‘Where is this control node?’ the leader rumbled.

  ‘There,’ Jhynkar said, pointing. He looked around. The stasis tubes were gone, as he had feared. Xhact was likely already aboard one of the Raiders circling the coordinates for the webway gate. He cursed inwardly, careful to let none of his dismay show on his face. But the suspensor cages were still there, their captives inside them.

  ‘Bones of Russ,’ the totem-bedecked warrior grunted, staring at the beasts as they raged silently. ‘Are those what I think they are?’

  The other tapped Jhynkar’s shoulder with the flat of his chainblade. ‘The control node. Turn it off.’ Jhynkar hesitated. Then, with a sigh, he moved to do as he was asked. He had hoped they would do it themselves and give him the opening he needed to flee. It seemed he was going to have to improvise. He went to the node and began to deactivate the power fields surrounding the slave pens throughout the camp.

  ‘Kadir, those creatures. Are they…?’

  ‘They are,’ the one with the axe said. ‘Why do you have them here, xenos?’

  Jhynkar’s lip curled. ‘I was studying them. Quite fascinating, really.’

  ‘They are not test subjects.’

  ‘Oh, but they are, aren’t they?’ Jhynkar paused and looked at the one called Kadir. ‘You all are. You are works of crude artistry, your every cell designed just so by an artist of sublime cruelty. Finite works, to be sure. But the infinite can only be contemplated through consideration of the finite.’ He looked at the wolf-things sadly. It was a shame he wasn’t going to be able to improve them in any way. They would have made wonderful additions to his body of work. He smiled at his captors. ‘I wonder, is that what the one who created you intended?’

  ‘Be silent, creature,’ the other Space Wolf growled. He looked around warily. ‘We are running low on time. Where is the Trickster?’

  ‘I have no doubt Lukas is where he needs to be, Halvar. It is up to us to give him the time he needs to do what must be done.’ The Space Wolf looked at Jhynkar. ‘Continue.’

  Jhynkar nodded obligingly. ‘Of course, of course.’ He continued, surreptitiously manipulating the controls of the suspensor cages, making them drift closer to his captors. His free hand inched towards his blast-pistol as his head began to fill with images of the rewards to come. He was so close to freedom that he could taste it. He threw the last switch, and the node began to hum. ‘There. That’s done it.’

  Throughout the camp, the power fields around the slave pens would be going down. All of the captives in the camp not already trapped in the hold of a Raider – human and animal alike – would suddenly find themselves free. And not just them.

  The suspensor cages went dark and dropped from the air. They crashed to the ground, and their prisoners leapt free with blood-curdling howls. Jhynkar shoved himself away from the node, snatched his blast-pistol free and fired. The warrior, Kadir, jerked back. ‘As promised, mon-keigh. All the captives are freed. But I doubt it is thanks that they have in mind, starved as they are!’

  He was halfway to the exit when he realised the lupine mutants weren’t attacking the Space Wolves. Instead, they were pursuing him. He fired at one as it leapt for him. The creature fell, its skull a smoking ruin.

  But another crashed into him as he scrambled out through the door, knocking him sprawling. It snarled down at him, so close that he could see the perfect imperfection of its eyes – at once beast and human. The blast-pistol was torn from his grip by a raking claw. He thrashed beneath its weight, something in him broken. Several somethings. Pain suppressants flooded his system as the first teeth entered his flesh.

  His last thought, just before the beast bit through his skull, was that they really were quite beautiful, in their way.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  WOLF AND SERPENT

  641.M41

  Sliscus cursed as he stepped aboard his Raider. ‘Blow the clamps and take us up. I am tired of the smell of this place.’ The air throbbed with the sound of gunfire. Down below, the camp was in an uproar. Someone had freed the slaves, and there were Space Wolves – more than just the one – running about, causing mayhem.

  Worse, the rest of the mangy beasts were on the way. The storm had abated enough that the mon-keigh had found their courage, and now grey gunships sped across the ice. They had been found, thanks to Malys. He would be sure to show his appreciation later. His anger passed as quickly as it had come, and he laughed. This was exciting.

  Doubtless, Malys had been coerced. Another sign of the Wolf’s cunning. Mostly his sort was only good for killing things. This one was smart. But he had risked much, just to get close. To make the kill himself. Sliscus strode to the prow, humming softly. He had recognised something in the Wolf’s yellow gaze – a need, equal to his own. He shivered in pleasure at the thought. It was so rare to find an enemy worth one’s time.

  It was too bad he had to cut this trip short just as it had become interesting. But there was no point in staying only to face a fully prepared foe. The Space Wolves would fall upon his camp like the beasts they were, and it was best to be elsewhere when that occurred. Th
e key to success was knowing when to depart.

  He leaned over the rail, watching as the lesser kabals fell to fighting each other. There were only a few Raiders left, and with space at a premium, thanks to the plunder most carried, anyone not on board one was left to the wolves. They hadn’t even had time to load the bulk of the chattel.

  He winced as one of the gantries exploded, taking a Raider with it. He turned to the steersman. ‘Some speed would not go amiss. Take us higher, as quickly as possible.’

  The deck thrummed as the vessel rose into the snowy skies. There was barely a strong breeze now. And the sun was almost visible. The crew were in a heightened state of excitement. They had fended off several attempts to commandeer the vessel before Sliscus’ arrival. Sliscus looked up, towards the Raiders circling before the flicker of radiance that would soon enlarge into a dimensional rip at his command. Beyond it, the webway waited, and his flagship.

  ‘Activate the gate,’ he called out. There was a sound like an immense cloth being torn asunder, and an ugly radiance bruised the sky. The air split, and the circling Raiders plunged into the sub-dimensional aperture. He smiled indulgently. Malys would be aboard one of those, he was sure, and already scheming to spin the situation to her advantage. He wondered whether she would confront him immediately, or if she would seek a safe distance. ‘What do you think, my lady? I… oh. Yes.’ He turned, seeking Myrta, only she wasn’t there. He wondered where she had got to. And Jhynkar, as well. Neither was at their appointed place. He sighed. It seemed this trip had been costlier than he had anticipated.

  ‘Someone remind me to find a new courtesan,’ he called out, looking at the closest members of his crew. ‘Perhaps a new fleshweaver too.’ He dropped a hand to the hilt of one of his blades, feeling the warmth of the spirit stones.