02 - Temple of the Serpent

by C. L. Werner - (ebook by Undead)

  Thanquol’s claws closed tightly around his staff. Now he knew who was trying to murder him.

  And the grey seer wasn’t going to give Shiwan Stalkscent another chance!

  Thanquol hurried through the side streets of Quetza, always running parallel to the main avenue down which the skaven were fleeing. He followed the smell of the ratkin. Shiwan’s lack of scent glands made finding him a bit difficult, but Thanquol was reasonably certain he could do it. He had the proper motivation now. Besides, what other skaven would be trying to stem the retreat and force the ratmen back into the fight? Shiwan didn’t care if his followers died, but he did need them to distract the lizardmen long enough for him to get close to Xiuhcoatl.

  The grey seer spotted Shiwan close to the back of the fleeing skaven. He wasn’t sure how the master assassin had gotten back to his troops so quickly, but he knew the sneaks of Clan Eshin were capable of many seemingly impossible feats.

  Behind the skaven, the lizardmen were making a steady advance, herding their flame-spitting salamanders before them. Thanquol watched the few ratmen Shiwan was able to throw back into the fight being burned alive by the caustic breath of the reptiles. He gritted his teeth as a sinister plan occurred to him.

  Waiting until there were no skaven near the little corner he was crouched behind, Thanquol crept forward. Using his staff to focus his concentration, he gestured with his hand at the master assassin. No bolt of lightning for Shiwan Stalkscent, oh no! Thanquol intended to deal with him as the assassin had intended to deal with the grey seer. He would be subtle and make it look like something else was responsible.

  Fixing Shiwan’s image in his mind, Thanquol concentrated upon his spell. Again he felt the sharp pang of longing as he was forced to work his magic without warpstone to sustain his energies, but he knew this spell was important enough that he could endure a little suffering. Thanquol closed his hand, making a fist, slowly collecting magical energy in his palm. When he had enough, he opened his hand and sent the energy speeding into Shiwan’s body.

  It wasn’t enough energy to kill the assassin. When it struck him, it felt like nothing worse than being accidentally slapped by an excited slave’s tail. However, it struck him in the knee and even so slight a blow was enough to trip him as he ran. The master assassin squealed in fright as he crashed face-first into the paving stones. Before he could recover, the fiery breath of a salamander engulfed him. Shiwan staggered to his feet, his body burning like a living torch. He took only a few shuddering steps before he fell again. The salamander sprang at him, its massive jaws ripping away at his scorched flesh.

  Thanquol watched the salamander feed for a moment before turning and fleeing back into the jungle. He hoped the dull-witted beast didn’t choke on anything until after it had gobbled down every last scrap of his enemy.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  New Plans, New Minions

  The jungle clearing slowly filled with panting, gasping ratmen. Although the lizardmen hadn’t pursued them beyond the borders of their city, none of the skaven was willing to take the chance that it was some kind of trick. So they hadn’t stopped running until they were deep in the jungle.

  Stragglers continued to creep out of the jungle, drawn by the smell of the ratkin. Even with these latecomers, Thanquol judged the expedition had lost nearly half its number in the ambush. He felt no sorrow for their losses, his only worry was that there weren’t enough of them to fight off the beasts of the jungle when they made their way back to the beach.

  Perched upon a fallen log, Thanquol leaned back and picked leeches from his fur while he waited for the bickering assassins to make up their minds and head back to the ship. It was, after all, the only sensible thing the slinking killers could do now.

  “Shiwan would not-not leave without killing scaly-meat,” Kong Krakback was grumbling. The big black skaven sported an ugly gash across his face where a skink javelin had cut him. He was lucky the weapon hadn’t been poisoned.

  Tsang Kweek’s fur bristled and his fangs gleamed in his face as he snarled back at the warrior. “Shiwan is dead-dead!” the gutter runner hissed. “Who care-think what he do-don’t? I say-tell we leave! Now-now!”

  “We can’t leave.” Shen Tsinge’s cold tones contrasted with the gutter runner’s frightened squeak. “We have to finish mission!”

  Tsang spun around and scowled at the thin sorcerer. “Temple-place protected by magic! Burn-slay any skaven walk inside!”

  “Scaly-meat will be looking for us now,” one of the cloaked assassins said, supporting Tsang’s move that they all head back to the ship. “Can’t sneak-surprise scaly-meat now!”

  Shen shook a clawed finger in the assassin’s face. “Think-find way, fool-fur! We don’t go back until Xiuhcoatl is dead!”

  “We can’t get into temple-place!” persisted Tsang. “How do we kill-slay scaly-meat if we can’t get inside!”

  For an instant, it looked like Shen was going to pounce on Tsang. The sorcerer’s fur bristled with rage, his fangs gleamed savagely. Suddenly a cunning gleam came into the sorcerer’s eyes. He looked aside at the log and the horned ratman sitting on it. “We find-find way inside!” he snapped.

  Leaning on his staff, Shen Tsinge walked over to Thanquol’s perch, the other Eshin leaders following behind him. The sorcerer stared up at the grey seer.

  “Thanquol!” Shen snapped. “We have decided to go back to temple-place! You must break-kill scaly-spells keeping us out!”

  Thanquol didn’t look at the sorcerer, instead making a study of the leech he had plucked from his leg. “I don’t think so,” he said, popping the parasite between his fingers. “I think Backstabber Tsang has the right idea. We go back.”

  “We can’t go back,” Shen snarled through clenched fangs. “Nightlord Sneek will kill-eat all of us if we fail!”

  The reminder of their clanlord’s inevitable vengeance for failure sent a fresh pulse of terror coursing through the ratmen. Thanquol could smell the musk dripping down their legs. He didn’t have to ask to know that he would be included in Sneek’s revenge. If it was any other skaven, he might have suggested sailing away and finding someplace to hide, but he knew there was no hiding from the Nightlord.

  It was a desperate situation. Shen was right, they couldn’t go back until Xiuhcoatl was dead. Having seen the Prophet of Sotek in action, he knew that the only way to kill a sorcerer of such awesome ability was to take him unawares. To do that, they would have to get inside the pyramid. And to get inside the pyramid, they needed Thanquol to break the wards that had been placed there to destroy their kind.

  Thanquol shivered with fear at the prospect of returning to Quetza and facing Xiuhcoatl again. Then, as his eyes swept across the clearing, he noticed something strange. All the skaven were looking up at him. There was a desperate hope in their eyes. Like Shen, they knew the grey seer was their only hope of getting inside the temple and killing Xiuhcoatl.

  He stared down at Shen and the other leaders, lips pulled back in a fierce grin. “I might help-save you,” Thanquol said. “But there has been too much bungling from you mouse-murderers!” He pointed his claw threateningly at the assembled skaven. “You thought you knew better than Grey Seer Thanquol how to do what the Nightlord told you to do! Now you know how wrong you were! I should let you all rot-fester! Let your bones warm the bellies of snakes!”

  Kong Krakback threw himself to the ground, grovelling before Thanquol’s feet. “Please, great master, do not abandon us!” Kong’s pleading was soon taken up by other skaven, each trying to out-do the other in his obeisance.

  “I might help-save you ungrateful tick-nibblers,” Thanquol mused, scratching his chin. “But I have been badly treated by your leaders…”

  “That was all Shiwan’s idea!” insisted Tsang Kweek, wringing his paws together. “None of us would have dared treat you with dishonour if he hadn’t told-ordered it so!”

  Thanquol sneered at the lie. They had all taken part in maltreating him. However, he could still use the fa
ithless vermin.

  “If I help-save you,” Thanquol pronounced, one finger lifted in warning, “then I must-must have total control. I must-must be leader and everyone must-must do what I say!”

  That announcement had more than a few of the skaven gnashing their teeth. Yet even these bit down on their pride and bobbed their heads in agreement to Thanquol’s terms. Even Tsang Kweek and Kong Krakback accepted Thanquol’s leadership.

  Rubbing his hands together in triumph, Thanquol hopped down from his perch. He grinned at Shen Tsinge. The sorcerer and his rat ogre had been the only skaven to remain standing during the display of grovelling and pleading. Shen snarled back at the grey seer, but he couldn’t hide the icy fear in the depths of his eyes. Thanquol knew then that the sorcerer was broken.

  “I’ll need all the warpstone,” Thanquol told Shen. The sorcerer lashed his tail in outrage at Thanquol’s demand, but began removing nuggets of the black stone from his pockets just the same. “Don’t forget any little bits you might have hiding in your cheek pouches,” Thanquol spitefully reminded Shen.

  Shen’s eyes blazed with fury at the insult, his hand falling to the sword he wore. Behind him, Goji took a menacing step forwards. It was an effort, but Thanquol managed to keep any hint of fear from his posture as he coldly regarded the twin threats of Shen and the rat ogre.

  “As leader, I’ll need protection,” Thanquol told Shen. “I want your rat ogre.”

  Shen almost drew his sword, but one look at the skaven around him stayed his hand. They knew Thanquol was their only hope now. If Shen killed the grey seer they would fall on him like a pack of rabid wolf-rats and tear him to pieces. Choking on his rage, the sorcerer bowed his head and waved Goji forward.

  Thanquol chittered his delight as he walked around the hulking rat ogre and inspected his new property. The monster was an impressive specimen, much more so than the weakling runts he’d owned before. The beast’s claws were the biggest and sharpest he’d ever seen on a rat ogre, there was an intelligence in his eyes that was almost skaven-like in their depth and understanding. The rat ogre’s fur was thick and lustrous, as black as midnight. He even found the necklace of skulls around the monster’s neck a pleasing touch.

  “You need a better name than Goji,” Thanquol mused as he circled the rat ogre. “I think I shall call you…” He paused in thought, picking at his ear as he considered what he would call his new bodyguard. The rat ogre stared down at him, an almost expectant look in his beady eyes.

  “Boneripper,” Thanquol decided. It was a good name for a rat ogre, the kind of name that scared enemies just to hear it.

  And Boneripper was going to scare his enemies. Thanquol was going to make sure of that.

  Grey Seer Thanquol rested with his back against a palm, casually nibbling on the parrot in his paws. The bird had a curious taste, and not one that he was certain he appreciated. But meat was meat, and it would be a sign of weakness to forfeit the provisions his loyal followers had brought him. He looked up from his meal, savouring the sullen stares of the Eshin skaven. Let the rats skulk! It was no less than they deserved for all the indignities they had heaped on him!

  Calmly, Thanquol handed the rest of the parrot to his bodyguard. The bird’s bones crunched noisily as Boneripper crushed it in his powerful jaws. Being careful to keep the rat ogre well-fed had done wonders for shifting his loyalty from Shen Tsinge. Thanquol was impressed by his intelligence and practicality. The sorcerer had always treated his bodyguard as nothing but another lackey, something that was second best. Boneripper deserved better treatment, and Thanquol was careful to put the rat ogre’s needs ahead of even his own.

  Thinking about needs, Thanquol studied the fruit basket the gutter runners had brought him. He picked through the assorted nuts and berries, sniffing suspiciously at the ones he wasn’t certain were edible and glancing up maliciously to see which of his minions he would choose to test the suspect berries. He selected a ripe banana. He’d developed a bit of a taste for the mushy fruit. Picking out a leather-skinned melon at the same time, Thanquol let Boneripper gorge himself on the rest of the food that looked safe.

  “If you are finished eating, grim and terrible slayer-lord,” one of the bowing hunter-rats started to address Thanquol.

  A flash of fright raced along Thanquol’s spine. His eyes narrowed with hate and his foot kicked out, cracking against the hunter’s muzzle. “Don’t call me that!” he snarled, trying to banish the momentary image of a ginger-haired dwarf-thing that had risen in his mind. “Don’t ever do that again, you paw-licking whelp-stealer!” He stood, glaring down at the trembling victim of his ill-temper. Thanquol was pretty sure he knew who would be testing the suspicious berries.

  “Begging indulgence, mighty tyrant,” Shen Tsinge’s ingratiating tones reached Thanquol’s ears. He turned to find the thin sorcerer shuffling towards him, leaning on his staff. Thanquol was pleased when he heard Boneripper growl at his old master’s approach.

  “What do you want, mage-rat?” Thanquol demanded, giving another spiteful kick to the prostrate hunter.

  For an instant, Shen’s face pulled back in a challenging grin, but he quickly covered his fangs again. “Thanquol…”

  “Grey Seer Thanquol!” Thanquol snarled at the sorcerer.

  Shen bent and bowed in contrition for the improper address. “Grey Seer Thanquol, we have been hiding in jungle-place for many-many sun-moon.”

  “Yes?” Thanquol hissed at Shen, reminding the sorcerer to be very careful with whatever he was going to say.

  “Grey Seer Thanquol, we have been here long-long,” Shen said. “We follow-obey whatever Thanquol speak-squeak. We bring-take water for Thanquol’s bath while we are thirsty. We bring-take meat for Thanquol’s meals while we eat ants and roots.”

  “Yes?” Thanquol demanded again. The grey seer cast a wary eye at the other skaven who were listening to the exchange. He’d been forced to put down one insurrection already. If Shen was going to lead another one it might be more difficult to squash.

  “When we go back and kill Xiuhcoatl!” Shen snarled, lashing his tail through the underbrush. “We stay in jungle-place we die-die!”

  Thanquol bared his fangs at the rebellious sorcerer. “I am waiting for a sign from the Horned One!” When questioned about his decisions, Thanquol always found it wisest to invoke his god. Then if his enemy persisted in doubting him, it was the same as if he was doubting the Horned Rat. It was always easy to rouse skaven to destroy a ratman who had been branded a heretic.

  Unfortunately, Shen was bold enough to persist. “When you see-scent sign?” Shen growled. “When all Eshin-rats are bones? When only Grey Seer Thanquol still has strength to walk-scurry from jungle-place?”

  “Heretic!” Thanquol snapped, pointing a claw at the defiant sorcerer. “Seize him!” he ordered the other skaven.

  None of them lifted a paw, but instead glared at him with angry eyes. Boneripper moved beside Thanquol, but even the threat of the rat ogre didn’t seem to matter to the abused and starving skaven.

  “I am your only chance!” Thanquol reminded the skaven. “Without me, you can’t get into temple-place!”

  “We aren’t getting inside with you,” Tsang Kweek hissed, fingering one of his knives. “All we’re doing is getting weak while you get fat!”

  Thanquol glared at the gutter runner. “The Horned Rat will shrivel your nethers for speaking to me like that! I am waiting for his holy scent to show us the way!”

  “Liar! Coward!” one of the assassins shouted, emboldened by his lack of scent to hide his identity from Thanquol’s wrath. “Where is this sign from the Horned One!”

  Suddenly a group of scouts came scurrying back into the clearing. Despite the mutiny all around him, Thanquol managed to notice with some misgiving that the hunters had come back empty-handed. However, rather than trying to slink off and avoid the grey seer, they excitedly rushed right towards him.

  “Great and might paw of the Horned One!” the hunters squeaked. “T
here are man-things in jungle-place! Live man-things! We saw-scented them!”

  Thanquol stroked one of his horns as he digested the excited report. The only humans they had seen since landing in this accursed place had been the walking dead-things in the swamp. He had begun to believe that there were no humans on the entire continent. It had been his experience that once man-things were established in a place, they quickly built nests everywhere. Yet they had seen no trace of any human villages. Indeed, except for the zombie tower, the only buildings they had seen were the ruins left by the lizardmen.

  What would humans be doing here, so far from anyplace they had any right to be? The answer came to Thanquol as he glanced down at the excited hunters. Of course! He could have bit himself for not seeing it sooner. This was the sign he had been waiting for! As soon as that realisation came to him, a plan instantly began to form in Thanquol’s crooked mind.

  “Go-fetch man-things!” Thanquol snarled at his minions. “I want all-all man-things! Bring them to me, live-live! If you kill-kill, I’ll cut out your brains and feed them to you!”

  His minions didn’t stop to question the impossibility of Thanquol’s threat, but turned back and raced into the jungle, eager to obey his command. Thanquol watched them go, his tail lashing behind him impatiently. Now that the plan had formed in his mind, he wanted to try it out. If he was right, very soon they would be inside the Temple of the Serpent.

  If he was wrong… Thanquol shuddered and started thinking about what he would do if he was wrong.

  The trek through the jungle had become torture after the escape from the cold ones. With the loss of the water, there was no relief from the hot, sweltering misery that made every breath agony. Even the fine clothes of van Sommerhaus had been reduced to strips of rotten cloth hanging in damp tatters off his starving body. There had been no more straying off the path to find food since their encounter with the giant reptiles. Before, they had imagined the worst they might stumble on in the jungle was a prowling jaguar. Now they knew better and even the grumbling in their stomachs was not enough to send the men back among the trees.