Then he spotted his brother Dirk. He lay on the bottom of the pile up, not moving. A stomping hoof glanced off his helmet, and he did not protest.
Dunk swung the helmet hard at the bull-headed creature who’d just stepped on Dirk, and its spikes bit hard into the minotaur’s arm. The creature reared back its head to unleash an angry cry, which still sounded to Dunk like a “Moo”. Then it spun on him and tried to gore him with the five horns that sprang from each edge of the pentacle branded on its forehead.
“That’s Dunk Hoffnung in there, without a shred of armour!” said Bob.
“I’ve seen a lot of dumb in this game, but that’s plain stupid! That’s Nilla Likker, number 43, he’s facing off against there!”
“Hackers fans may remember when Hoffnung killed Nilla’s cousin, Schlitz ‘Malty’ Likker of the Chaos All-Stars, during the Chaos Cup half-time presentation almost three years back!”
“Hoffnung always maintained that he’d saved the star player from being controlled by the evil wizard Schlechter Zauberer, who’d called Khorne the Blood God down to possess the legendary player’s body!”
“Looks like Khorne’s going to get his due today!”
Dunk ducked around Nilla’s horns, smashing them aside with the spiked helmet. He’d been in enough of a fight before Bob and Jim had started blabbing on and on about his history with Nilla’s family. Now the mutant minotaur was madder than ever.
Nilla snorted a noxious cloud of green poison from his wide, red-rimmed nostrils, from which dangled a thick, slimy hoop of gold. Dunk took in a double lungful of the stuff. It burned his throat and sent him into spasms of coughing and wheezing. He hurled himself towards his brother, hoping to protect Dirk with his body, but a meaty fist closed around the back of his neck and hauled him back.
Dunk dangled from the end of Nilla’s arm, kicking like a man in a noose. His boots glanced off the minotaur’s armour, not even leaving a scratch. He tried to pry the creature’s hand from his throat, but it was like trying to tear apart steel with his bare fingers.
“Killed Mmmmooo-alty!” The minotaur roared into Dunk’s face. The scent of rotting flesh on its breath was almost worse than the greenish poison still searing Dunk’s lungs. “Mmmooo-ust die!”
The minotaur shook Dunk by the neck, and the thrower wondered how long it would take for his spine to give way. If his body fell from his neck, would he be conscious long enough to watch it hit the ground? Even the vaunted Dr. Pill wouldn’t be able to help him with that kind of injury.
Dunk gave up on getting Nilla’s fingers from around his throat, and he lashed out with his fists. The minotaur’s horns made it impossible for the creature to wear a helmet, but the way it shrugged off Dunk’s blows, it obviously didn’t need one.
Dunk kept smashing at the minotaur’s head, hoping one blow might finally hurt the creature more than it hurt him. He couldn’t breathe, though, and his arms began to tire. He knew he wouldn’t last much longer.
Dunk wondered where his friends were. Dirk was out cold, but how about M’Grash? Or Edgar? Or Cavre, or any of the other Hackers? What about Spinne?
Thoughts of Spinne flashed through his head as the world started to fall away down a tunnel. Desperate to survive, to get back to her, he lashed out again, too weak to form a fist. His fingers fell around something thick and metallic, warm and curved in his hand.
He twisted it as hard as he could.
Nilla let out a horrific howl of pain and dropped Dunk to protect the nose ring he’d grabbed. This proved a terrible mistake, as it left Dunk hanging from the ring with all his weight.
Still struggling to regain his breath, Dunk clutched the ring for all he was worth, swinging back and forth. Nilla smashed into his ribs with a massive fist, and the breath left Dunk’s body again. He hung on despite this, knowing that as soon as he let go, the creature would be on him once more.
The force of Nilla’s blow pulled harder on the ring, and the creature howled in frustration and pain. Heartened by this, Dunk swung his feet up and planted them on the minotaur’s chest. Then he yanked on the ring with all his might.
Nilla’s scream threatened to burst Dunk’s eardrums. Dunk used the pain in his head to drive his determination. He pulled harder and harder until he felt something give.
Dunk landed hard on the Astrogranite. He stared at the ring, still in his hands, but now free of its owner’s face. Greenish-black blood glistened on it and covered Dunk’s fingers.
“Yowch!” Bob said. “That’s going to leave a lot more than a mark.”
A giant scorpion’s tail smacked down and knocked the ring from Dunk’s hand, the stinger catching on the metal rather than Dunk’s flesh. Dunk scrambled backward on his rump, stopping only when he ran into a tree.
Surprised to feel his back against a tree that someone had planted in the middle of the field, he craned his head back and spied Edgar looming over him.
“That’s about bloody well enough of this nonsense,” the freeman said. He gathered Dunk up in his branches and held the man high over his head, out of the reach of even the minotaur.
From this vantage point, Dunk could see that the game had devolved into nothing more than a brawl. Bodies lay scattered about the pitch, both in Hacker and Killer uniforms, and blood, sweat, and ichor covered those few players still standing. Dirk still lay unconscious, with Bereit, Roja, and Reyes collapsed nearby.
There had to be a way to end this, but Dunk couldn’t see how.
Carve squared off against a rat-faced, bat-winged beast. A trio of worm armed, lamprey-faced creatures wrapped themselves around M’Grash, who was trying to tear them into fishing bait. Spiel and Anfäger bashed away at a crab bodied creature that sported someone’s severed arm in one of its massive claws.
Not seeing Spinne anywhere, Dunk cast his gaze wider. He spotted her standing alone in the end zone, waving her arms wildly. With all the carnage going on around him, Dunk breathed easier knowing that Spinne wasn’t in the middle of it.
Then Dunk spotted the ball still tucked in Dirk’s arms. Everyone else around him was too busy fighting each other to pay any attention to it. If he could reach it, he might be able to put an end to this.
Nilla smashed into Edgar’s trunk from one side, and Quake’s tail stabbed into his bark from the other. The treeman tottered for a moment, but did not fall.
“I’ve had enough of this bloody bullshit,” Edgar roared as he swung his lower branches at the minotaur.
Seeing his chance, Dunk leapt from Edgar’s upper branches, straight towards Dirk. He rolled as he hit the Astrogranite, and came to a halt right next to his brother’s body. Fighting the urge to check if Dirk still breathed, he snatched the spiked ball from his brother’s limp arms.
Cocking back his arm, Dunk’s thrower instincts kicked in. He scanned downfield to see Spinne still open, but his ears detected the pounding of hooves behind him. He didn’t need to have eyes in the back of his head, like the ones he now saw on the crab-beast battling Spiel and Anfäger, to know that Nilla was bearing down on him.
Dunk held his breath and waited. If he moved too soon, the minotaur would change course and catch him on its horns. He had to time this just right.
When every nerve in his body told him to move, he spun to the left, hoping that he hadn’t guessed wrong, knowing that his life would be forfeit.
As Nilla blasted past him, like a bull charging past a matador, Dunk let out that breath and hurled the ball downfield. He stood and watched as it arced through the clear, Estalian sky and hung at its zenith for a heart-stopping moment before spiralling down into Spinne’s outstretched arms.
“Touchdown!” Jim’s voice said. “Touchdown! Hackers score!”
7
“So we won?” Dirk said. His bloodshot eyes had fluttered open as Lästiges had leant over to kiss his battered forehead, and he stared up at her, Spinne, and Dunk in pain and wonder.
Dunk grinned down at his brother lying in a bed in the infirmary. Although beaten close to
death, the fight that had raged around Dirk had kept any of Khorne’s Killers from taking the time to execute him. He bore more bruises than a sack of bongo bashing bananas, but he would live to play again.
“We scored the only touchdown before the game had to be called for a lack of players on each side.”
“How many were left?”
Spinne stepped up to answer. “The Killers had just four players conscious after the fight. We only had six.”
Dirk tried to frown, but stopped when it hurt too much. “I’ve seen games played with less,” he said.
“We were ready to keep playing to the last player, but PcCarthy was so angry with his team for letting us score that he whipped the ones still standing half to death.” Dunk grinned. “When it came time for the kick-off, none of them could make it onto the field.”
“I’ll bet Pegleg’s happy.” Dirk tried to smile, but gave up on that too.
“You’d be wrong there, Mr. Heldmann,” the ex-pirate said as he burst into the room. Dunk could see from the scowl on the man’s face that he wasn’t joking.
“Why not?” Dirk said. “We won the tournament. The team earned a huge purse, and you have another trophy for the Sea Chariot’s cabin.”
“And we’ve lost our sponsorship for the Dungeon-bowl.”
Dunk’s stomach fell. “What? Why?”
Lästiges held up her hand. “I can answer that.” She reached into her bag and pulled out a white sphere the size of her fist. She set it on a table, and a trio of green tentacles sprouted from the bottom of it. It spun around, and fixed a wide pupil on the sports reporter.
“What’s that?” asked Dunk.
“Eye-Pod,” Lästiges said. “Latest thing from Grapple. It plays Magical Projection Three and Four files.”
“MP3s and MP4s?” Spinne said.
Lästiges nodded. “Watch.”
An image blinked to life inside the large, black spot of the pupil. It showed Dunk in a post-game interview.
“Does this mean you’re back?” Lästiges said from somewhere off-camra.
In the image, Dunk flushed, and then coughed. “I’m still not feeling too well. If it hadn’t been for that brawl, I’d still be lying down on the bench.”
At a wave of Lästiges’s hand, the image froze.
“So?” Dunk said, trying to keep his frustration from his voice.
He knew he’d blown his strike. As soon as there had been any real danger to his friends, he’d charged back out onto the field. Now that Pegleg had seen that happen, he’d be able to use it against him every damn game. After all, when was there ever a Blood Bowl game in which the players weren’t in mortal peril?
“The Grey Wizards believed you, Mr. Hoffnung, even if I didn’t,” said Pegleg. “Worse yet, the game showed them that we couldn’t win without you.”
“But that’s not true,” Dunk said. He liked the idea of being indispensable, but he knew that others could step up to take his place. “We’re a team. I couldn’t have made that play without Spinne or Edgar, or any of the others.”
Dirk scowled, but said nothing.
“Be that as it may,” Pegleg said, “the Grey Wizards decided to pull their sponsorship and return it to the Reikland Reavers once more.”
“That’s not fair,” Dunk said.
Pegleg gave him a pitying look. “How long have you been playing this game, Mr. Hoffnung? And you still use words like ‘fair’?”
Pegleg scowled. “Anyhow, it’s back to Bad Bay for us.”
“I’m not going.”
Everyone in the room turned to look at Dirk.
“You’ll be fine soon, honey,” Lästiges said, stroking Dirk’s brow. “We can follow them when you’re better.”
Dirk shook his head. “Dunk’s right. He’s been right all along. If Kirta’s alive, if there’s even a chance, we have to find her.”
Dunk’s heart leapt. “We can leave as soon as you’re ready.”
“Wait,” said Pegleg.
“If you’re going, I’m going with you,” Spinne said.
Dunk started to tell her not to worry, but thought better of it. Instead, he put an arm around her waist, drew her close, and said, “Thanks.”
“Wait,” Pegleg said.
“I’ll go too,” said Lästiges. She framed her hands together in a circle, as if around a crystal ball. “I’ll get the network to sign off on it as a documentary following the famous Hoffnung brothers on their daring quest into the deepest, darkest jungles to rescue their long-lost little sister!”
“Wait!”
Pegleg stood before them, trembling with anger.
“You don’t get it, do you?” he said. “This is my team, mine! And you are my players. You have contracts, and you’re not going anywhere.”
Dunk stared at the man. He’d forgotten about the Game Wizards and how they could compel both him and Dirk to play for the Hackers, no matter their wishes. The horror of that meant they’d have to come up with another way.
One easy solution crept into his skull. He could kill Pegleg right here and now. By the time anyone could do anything about it, he and Dirk, and Spinne and Lästiges could hire a ship and be out to sea, beyond the Game Wizards’ reach.
Dunk had killed before, and he knew he’d do so again. That was a Blood Bowl player’s lot, but could he bring himself to murder his coach? Right here in cold blood?
“If you don’t, Dunk, I will.”
Dunk glanced at Dirk and saw that his brother had been thinking the exact same thing.
“If I wasn’t stuck in this bed, I’d have done it already.”
Pegleg went pale. “Now, gentlemen,” he said, backing towards the door, “let’s not do anything we’ll all regret.”
“I won’t regret it,” Dirk said as Dunk moved forward, “not for a second.”
Pegleg raised his hook, holding it between Dunk and himself. “I won’t go easily, Mr. Hoffnung. I may not be able to take you all, but I’ll cut as many throats as I can before I go down.”
Dunk put his hands up to calm the ex-pirate down. “This is getting out of hand,” he said. “No one here wants to hurt anyone.” He glanced at Dirk, who scowled at him. “Well, not everyone. At least I don’t.”
Pegleg snorted. “You want to run off after ghosts from your past on a fool’s errand. I won’t allow that. Something has to give.” He spat on the ground as if daring Dunk to get nearer. “It won’t be me.”
Someone knocked on the door. Everyone froze. Might it be the Game Wizards, come to check on Dirk or Dunk? Or maybe M’Grash had shown up for a visit. If so, Dunk knew he could get the ogre to side with him.
Enojada’s voice filtered through from outside. “Can I come in?”
“We are engaged in a private conversation, madam,” Pegleg said.
Enojada giggled. “Not so private that everyone in the hall could not hear it. If you like privacy, maybe you should learn to speak softer, no?”
“Let her in,” said Dunk.
“Forget it,” said Pegleg, menace edging his voice. “She started all this mutinous bilge.”
“I believe I may have a solution for your problem,” she said in a singsong voice.
Dunk stepped forward carefully, and Pegleg raised his hook to strike. Dunk did his best to ignore it and reached out to open the door.
Enojada flung the door wide, shoving Pegleg aside. The ex-pirate spun away from her, keeping his hook held high.
“Hello, my friends,” Enojada said. “Why all the long faces?” She surveyed each of them in turn, ending with Pegleg. She wagged a finger at him, and then curled it around his hook. The gesture surprised him so much that he did not pull away.
“Now, I have heard the horrible news about how the Grey Wizards do not require your incredible services any longer, and I can understand how that might dampen your spirits. However,” she said, stopping to flash a wide smile that glowed against her tanned cheeks, “I have a cure for your woes.”
Pegleg yanked his hook back. “I do not c
are for anything you have to say. I know a con artist when I see one, and I see right through you, madam.”
Enojada’s smile didn’t waver. “How can I be a con artist when I tell you only the truth? Not only that, I come with both money and proof?”
“Proof?” said Dunk.
“Money?” said Pegleg.
“Yes, yes, yes, for you both.”
Enojada reached into her pocket and produced a diamond the size of her fist, shot through with streaks of red. “This is the Eye of the Daemon,” she said, holding it out before Pegleg. “I am authorised to offer this to you as a fee for travelling to Lustria to take part in our tournament. Should you win the tournament, you will receive its match.”
Pegleg had to wipe the drool from his lips. “Is that the purse then?”
Enojada flashed a tight smile as she shook her head. “That’s the bonus you’ll get, over and above the purse, if you win.”
Pegleg reached for the gem with his good hand, but Enojada pulled it away, clucking her tongue. “That is only yours, if you agree to join us in Lustria for the Tobazco Bowl. I do hope you find it in your heart to do so.”
“What about the proof?” Dunk asked, stepping in before Pegleg could give the woman an answer. “What do you have for us?”
With a twinkle in her eye, Enojada produced an Eye-Pod of her own. She set it down on the table next to Dirk’s bed, and it produced its own set of tentacles, wobbling over to stand next to the other one.
“You have these in Lustria now too?” Lästiges said with a gasp.
Enojada shrugged. “But of course. Grapple is everywhere. Their DieTunes music player is very popular.”
An image flickered to life in the Eye-Pod’s pupil, and Dunk felt his breath catch in his chest. The same thing happened to Dirk, and the man groaned in pain.
There, in the centre of the image, sat a beautiful, young woman with long, blonde hair swept back from her regal face. Her blue eyes sparkled, and a wry grin played across her red lips. She was taller, tanner, older, than Dunk remembered her, but he knew her right away.
[Blood Bowl 04] - Rumble in the Jungle Page 5
