Klarak tossed the spent steam pistol aside, unslinging the steam hammer lashed across his back. Around him, the battle raged. Dwarf warriors fought the teeming hordes of ratmen across the cavern, up in the rickety ratwalks and platforms, wherever their verminous foes could be found. The skaven took a deadly toll on their attackers, warpstone bullets burning through even the heaviest armour, Poison Wind smothering the fiercest of fighters. Entire ratwalks came crashing to the floor, torn from their moorings by the weight of those fighting upon them or else burned loose by the green hell-flame of the warpfire projectors.
The battle hung in the balance. The dwarfs were limited by how many of their number could charge through the cavern entrance at one time and many of their best troops were still confined to the tunnels outside. Entering the cavern, the invaders presented opportune targets for the jezzails clustered about the highest tiers of platforms. The marksmanship of the skaven was slovenly, but in the press of armoured bodies at the entrance, even the worst shot couldn’t fail to inflict harm.
If the dwarfs were to be certain of victory, then they needed to shatter the cornered courage of the ratkin. The best way to do that was to remove their leader. It was doubly important now that Klarak eliminate Ikit Claw quickly.
The engineer rushed across the cavern, his steam hammer lashing out and crushing the skull of a black-furred ratman who lunged at him from a pile of scrap. A second skaven, a glowing sword clutched in its paws, made a dive for Klarak’s back. Before he could sink his blade home, the ratman found himself smashed down by the hammer of Horgar Horgarsson.
“You don’t make it easy on your bodyguard,” Horgar grumbled, shaking the crushed ratman from the head of his hammer.
“Nothing worth fighting for is easy,” Klarak replied. He pointed at the Doomsphere. “I’m going after Ikit. Keep the rest of the ratkin off me.”
Horgar nodded, his steam-powered armour venting vapour as he charged ahead of his friend. A tangle of ratmen leapt out of hiding to assault the dwarf and keep him from reaching their master. Horgar laughed as he drove his hammer into the bestial mob, breaking limbs and crushing skulls at every turn. Several skaven held back, trying to train the lethal length of a warpfire projector on the hammerer, heedless of their own comrades who would be caught in the blast.
Before they could unleash the fury of their weapon, a concentrated barrage of bullets smashed into the ratmen’s ranks. Thorlek snarled as he unloaded his steam pistol into the cringing monsters, crying out jubilantly as one of his shots punctured the fuel canister for the projector and engulfed the slinking killers in a spray of burning liquid.
Klarak exploited the violence to run past the ratmen defending the Doomsphere. Throwing himself up the ramshackle ladder, the adventurer brought his steam hammer cracking into the chest of a last skaven who scurried out from hiding. Then he turned his eyes towards his real enemy.
Ikit Claw glared at Klarak from behind his metal mask. The Chief Warlock leaned heavily upon Storm Daemon, using the deadly weapon as a crutch to support his weakened body. Black blood coated the ratman’s tattered robes and stained the plates of his iron frame.
“Bronzehammer,” Ikit Claw hissed. “You try to stop me, but you cannot stop-kill progress!” The skaven tapped his metal claw against the Doomsphere’s shell.
“This madness ends now,” Klarak growled back. He rushed the injured skaven, but his charge turned into a wild sprawl when his foe suddenly sprang to one side.
The steel rasp of Ikit’s laughter stung Klarak’s ears. “Fool-meat! The only thing ends here is your life!” The warlock lunged at Klarak, slashing the dwarf’s vest with his steel claws. The adventurer kicked out with his boot, smashing the side of the skaven’s sensitive snout.
Ikit Claw limped back, leaning against Storm Daemon. The warlock had feigned weakness to make his foe overconfident, but he was still in no condition for a protracted fight. Snarling in rage, he pointed his metal claw at Klarak, the blades opening outwards and exposing the nozzle of the warpfire projector built into the palm.
Klarak rolled away, throwing himself over the side of the platform an instant before the Claw’s fire came for him. His fingers closed about the edge of the scaffolding, holding him just beneath the lip of the platform. He waited until the sound of Ikit’s weapon faded, then, with a display of strength incredible even for a dwarf, he pulled himself back onto the charred platform. Before Ikit could unleash a second gout of warpfire, Klarak flung a small, egg-shaped grenade at the ratman. It exploded against the metal claw, coating the weapon in white powder.
The Claw’s nose twitched and a snarl of unbridled rage screamed through his clenched fangs. He recognised the scent of Klarak’s smother-dust and knew what would happen if he tried to send another burst of warpfire after his enemy. The skaven lashed his tail in fury, his eyes blazing with a mad light.
“Fool-meat! Now all-all dwarf-thing die!” Ikit Claw sprang away as Klarak dived for him. The warlock turned, slashing the blades of his claw at the engineer’s head. Klarak ducked beneath the murderous sweep of his enemy’s talons, wincing as he heard the sharp blades grind against the shell of the Doomsphere.
Klarak tackled the crazed warlock, locking his arms about the ratman’s waist and spilling him to the floor of the platform. The talons of Ikit’s feet raked against the dwarf’s legs, scratching uselessly against the engineer’s armour.
“All-all dwarf-thing die!” Ikit Claw raged. The warlock brought his head smacking full into Klarak’s face, the metal helmet cracking into the dwarf’s skull with the force of a hammer. Klarak reeled back in pain, loosening his grip enough for his foe to squirm out from beneath him.
Ikit Claw stumbled away, lurching towards a panel of levers and gears projecting from the side of the Doomsphere. “Now all-all dwarf-thing die!” he squealed triumphantly. Scratchy laughter shook the ratman as he saw Klarak stagger to his feet. “Too late, Bronzehammer! Your dwarf-metal was all I needed!
“My Doomsphere is fully operational!”
Thanquol chortled with glee as Boneripper twisted Mordin in half. The deranged slayer deserved such a fate, obsessing over something as trivial as the demise of a litter-mate. No skaven would have ever been so petty in his hatred.
The immediate threat of the slayer removed, Thanquol turned his attention back to Ikit Claw. If the idiot had gotten himself killed in the last few minutes, the grey seer hoped the Horned One had an especially nasty hell arranged for Ikit’s soul! Cheating Thanquol of his rightful destiny, what greater depths of treachery could a skaven sink to?
Thanquol breathed a little easier when he saw Ikit Claw standing beside the Doomsphere, the gold-bearded dwarf bleeding and helpless at his feet. There was still some life in the dwarf, which meant Thanquol still had a chance to strike down the fool and put himself into the Claw’s good graces. Then it would just be a small matter of assassinating the warlock once the Doomsphere was complete.
Summoning up a small measure of power, just enough to send a flicker of warp-lightning searing through Klarak’s heart, Thanquol hesitated when he heard Ikit’s steel voice. The grey seer’s fangs snapped together in a snarl when he heard the warlock boast that the Doomsphere was operational.
The scheming flea had been lying to him all along! The weapon was already complete! There was no reason now to suffer the warlock-engineer’s insufferable heresy and treason! Hissing malignantly, Thanquol pointed his staff at Ikit Claw.
Before the grey seer could unleash his magic against the traitorous rat, he heard the Claw speak again. Something about killing all of the dwarfs. Thanquol’s empty glands clenched as the warlock’s true intentions struck his brain.
The mad, psychopathic maniac was going to activate the Doomsphere! In all of his plans for the weapon, Thanquol had never intended to actually use it! He’d smash the very empire he wanted to conquer!
Surely Ikit Claw wasn’t crazed enough to think he could activate the Doomsphere and not wreak untold destruction upon skavendom! The answe
r came to Thanquol in a burst of fear. The Claw was crazy, obsessed with his science and his technology. He didn’t care what happened to the Under-Empire, so long as he could boast about unleashing the most destructive force ever known to ratkin! The Claw would ruin all of skavendom just so he could measure the power of his bomb!
Thanquol sent the bolt of warp-lightning sizzling across the cavern. The malignant magic crackled over Klarak’s prone body, streaking straight towards Ikit Claw. The warlock’s body was engulfed in the discharge, snakes of electricity writhing about him. But the fury of Thanquol’s spell was quickly spent, draining away into the warp generator fitted to Storm Daemon’s blade. An unharmed Ikit Claw turned, fangs bared beneath his metal mask. His beady eyes fixed hatefully on his horned attacker.
“Die-die, fool-meat!” Ikit snapped, his metal claw closing about one of the levers and thrusting it upwards. The metal-faced warlock chittered maniacally as the immense Doomsphere shuddered into life, warp-steam venting from its sides, electricity crackling about its shell. Still laughing, Ikit Claw pressed his paw against his belt. The next instant, the warlock vanished in a cloud of purple smoke.
Squeals of horror shuddered through the cavern as the embattled skaven became aware of their master’s treachery. Better than anyone, they knew the awful potential of the Doomsphere. Sheer terror sent them scurrying down from the ratwalks, fleeing across the cavern straight into the waiting axes and hammers of the dwarfs.
Thanquol glanced at the entranceway, not terribly keen to share the fate of all the skaven being so dramatically cut down by the dwarfs. There was always the possibility of using his magic to escape. He fingered a piece of warpstone, knowing that if he could control its energies he’d be able to skitterleap through the void. The only problem was doing so would possibly result in his reappearing inside a solid wall. That sounded about as messy as anything the Doomsphere would do to him.
The Doomsphere! There was still a chance! If he could just shut the thing down, he’d overcome Ikit’s treachery and possess the most powerful weapon in skavendom! Thanquol nervously took a pinch of warpsnuff to quell the terror coursing through his veins. The difference between a leader and a slave was making sure greed was never stifled by fear.
Scurrying across the cavern, Thanquol rushed to stop the Doomsphere. He leapt onto the bucking work platform, the energies of the machine causing the scaffolding to roll and shiver like an angry sea. As he tried to gain his footing, he saw Klarak dive down from the platform. The dwarf was wearing strange goggles over his eyes and kept glancing back at the Doomsphere’s shell. Thanquol contemplated sending a blast of magic burning through the dwarf’s back, but quickly suppressed the murderous urge. First he had to stop the Doomsphere, then he could worry about the dwarf-things.
Horns blasted throughout the cavern, the deep brazen notes of dwarf trumpets. They were withdrawing from the chamber, fleeing back into the tunnels. Thanquol could hear Klarak’s voice raised in warning, urging his comrades to run, as though the fools could escape the destructive might of the Doomsphere by running! Thanquol was almost tempted to let the bomb detonate just to show the dwarfs what fools they were.
The grey seer clapped his paws to his horns. That was the warp-snuff talking!
Frantically, Thanquol raced to the control box. He stared stupidly at the bizarre array of buttons, levers and gears, trying to maintain his footing as the Doomsphere bucked and shuddered around him. The violent vibrations emanating from the machine were causing the walls to shudder, knocking great chunks of rock from the roof and collapsing the confusion of ratwalks and platforms. Thanquol’s glands clenched as the whole cavern groaned. He risked a look over his shoulder, watching as the last of the dwarfs hurried back into the tunnels. He’d have never believed the creatures could move so fast.
Fear pounding in his chest, Thanquol cursed the confusion of controls and turned his thought to some other way of disabling the amok Doomsphere. He’d never made it a point to study the workings of Clan Skryre’s obscene technology. The only proper magic for skaven to study was that which had been taught to them by the Horned Rat. Yet he remembered snatches of conversation he’d had with Heskit One Eye before the Battle of Nuln. He recalled something about the warlock-engineers using different coloured wires in their machines and how any of their devices could be shut down by pulling out the red wires.
The Doomsphere’s vibrations sent a hill-sized chunk of rock smashing down, gouging a deep pit in the cavern floor. Warp-steam exploded from the machine’s vents, corroding the walls. Fingers of lightning whipped about the platform, nearly scorching Thanquol’s tail.
The grey seer needed no further prompting. Grinding his fangs together, he lunged at the control box, slipping his claws beneath the brass covering and ripping it free. The red wire! All he had to do was rip out the red wire!
Thanquol cursed the name of Ikit Claw and the perfidy of the Horned One! All the wires were black! That deranged maniac had ensured his machine couldn’t be stopped by using only one colour wire!
The lightning storm emanating from the quaking Doomsphere increased in its fury, throwing Thanquol from the platform. He was hurled across the quivering ground, ratwalks and boulders crashing down all around him. The grey seer popped the sliver of warpstone into his mouth, grinding it beneath his fangs. He felt the intoxicating rush of aethyric power surge through his body. Then his eyes were drawn upwards.
A boulder the size of a village came crashing down from the ceiling, dropping straight towards the grey seer.
At the centre of the cavern, the immense Doomsphere continued its crazed revolutions. Warp-steam erupted from its broken casing, scorching the walls and chewing apart ceiling and floor. Skaven shrieked as boulders continued to rain down, but the rocks falling towards the whirling mechanisms of the Doomsphere shattered as they came into contact with the murderous cloud of steam.
The plates upon the Doomsphere began to buckle, sucked into the churning maw of its vengeful heart. Even the wondrous alloy which was the pinnacle of dwarf metallurgy could not resist the pull of the weapon’s churning belly. Gradually they were torn loose from their fastenings, dragged into the boiling maw of the void-engine.
As the plate marked with the Rune of Power was torn free, the entire machine crumpled, folding in upon itself. A final terrific scream rose from the warp-furnace as the Doomsphere completed its self-annihilation in one last bellow of violence.
The skaven warren shook as a tremendous explosion rumbled through its tunnels. The dwarfs covered themselves with their shields, blocking the shower of rocks and earth that rained down upon them. As the tremors grew, so did the anxiety of the dwarfs. In their own deeps, with good dwarf construction over their heads, they wouldn’t have been so scared, but none of them trusted the ramshackle skaven tunnels to withstand such violence.
Thane Erkii and his miners sprang into action, hurriedly fixing braces to the shoddy skaven construction, trying to bolster the strength of the trembling walls. Familiar with the hazards of skaven warrens, the expedition had descended into the depths fully prepared to dig their own shafts to reach their quarry as the cowardly ratmen were prone to collapse their own tunnels. Now that foresight served the dwarfs well.
As the shudders gradually passed and the cramped tunnels began to settle, King Logan and Runelord Morag picked their way through the press of dirt-covered dwarf warriors. The two lords had been too far back in the tunnels to take part in the fighting, but they were eager to get an account from those who had.
“Engineer Klarak,” King Logan addressed the adventurer when he reached the mouth of the tunnel. Klarak bowed respectfully to his sovereign. “This expedition has been a success? You have settled the grudge laid down against you?”
Klarak shook his head. “I fear not,” he confessed. “The Doomsphere is destroyed, but Ikit Claw used his filthy magic to escape.”
Runelord Morag nodded as he heard the engineer’s account. “This was why you requested that Runesmith Kurgaz be al
lowed to study the Master Rune of Unmaking?”
“No,” Klarak told the white-bearded dwarf. “Originally I planned to use the Master Rune to protect my own inventions. To keep them from falling into the hands of our enemies.”
“The magic of the Master Rune would do that,” Morag conceded. “It was created to guard the most potent of runeweapons and to destroy them if any hand but that of a dwarf sought to use them.” The Runelord’s expression became bitter. “I do not believe that allowing such a potent rune to be used upon an abominable construction of the ratkin is either proper or respectful.”
Klarak shook his head. “Such was not my intention. When I was warned about Thanquol, I felt the need to guard my inventions. That was my only purpose in asking Kurgaz to learn the Master Rune. When I learned that Ikit Claw was also threatening Karak Angkul, I knew there was another way the Master Rune could be used to safeguard the Karak Ankor.”
“You let the skaven finish their machine knowing the Master Rune would cause it to destroy itself the moment it was activated?” Thorlek was astonished by the subtlety of his master’s plan.
“First we had to be sure they used the plate with the rune upon it,” Klarak said, tapping the goggles resting across his forehead. “Once I was certain of that, I knew the skaven were finished.”
“But you said Ikit Claw escaped,” King Logan observed. “Can you be certain he won’t just make another one?”
“He will never be able to build another on such a scale without my barazhunk,” Klarak said. “And I will never forge the alloy again. Every trace of it will be taken to the smelthall and melted down. The danger it now poses to our people is greater than any benefit it can provide.”
There was a sad tone of resignation in Klarak’s voice as he spoke, acknowledging the terrible danger his alloy had brought upon his people. It was ever the way with the dwarfs. Every step forwards only seemed to bring them that much closer to their own doom.
03 - Thanquol's Doom Page 28
