Slaves to Darkness 02 (The Blades of Chaos)

by Warhammer

  'When do you think the orcs will attack again?' Ursula said, glancing over her shoulder at the rest of the convoy as the horses and mules trudged up the steep slope.

  'Perhaps they have headed back to easier pickings,' Ruprecht grunted.

  'No, they haven't,' Ursula told him. Ruprecht gave her a questioning look and she pointed to the south. The burly man sat up with a groan and followed her gesture. Perhaps a half-mile away, shadowy shapes could be seen slinking between the rocks and bushes.

  'Wolf-riding scouts,' Ursula confirmed. 'They may even be ahead of us now, waiting in ambush.'

  'We can't resist another attack, not here,' Ruprecht said quietly, slipping back down against the side of the wagon.

  Ursula didn't reply. Everyone in the convoy knew they would be doomed if the orcs attacked while they were strung out on the steep, narrow road, though few had bothered to voice their fears. Some of the mercenaries had threatened to leave until Leonard had pointed out that the orcs would pounce upon any stragglers or soldiers who left the fragile safety of the expedition. They would earn their money or die, he had told them. This hadn't stopped a few of the bowmen and some of the handgunners from slipping away in the night, deciding to take their chances with speed and stealth rather than numbers. Wolf riders had left their bodies a few miles ahead for the rest of them to find the next day.

  'Well, we can be proud they haven't attacked yet,' said one of the other wounded soldiers, in the garb of the Black Company, who was lying against the back of the wagon, smoking a thin clay pipe. His left leg was heavily bandaged, blood seeping from the cloth onto the floor of the wagon.

  'How so?' asked Ursula.

  'We gave them enough of a fight last time that they're having to think hard about attacking again,' he explained, shifting himself into a more comfortable position. 'I killed five goblins last time. If they come again I'll kill five more, you can be sure of that.'

  Ursula smiled, but inside the soldier's bravado rang hollow. She was not looking for a glorious death, she just wanted to reach Karak Norn.

  The orcs attacked the next day, as they passed a crossroads and entered a narrow defile.

  They had a new leader, the head of the previous warlord stuck on its back banner along with the rotting remains of several more. This orc was more wary, and stood at the exit of the canyon with thirty or so greenskins armed with crude bows. The other orcs, and several score of goblins, were scrambling over the rocks behind the wagons, closing the trap.

  The wagon train closed up and the bowmen and handgunners moved to the fore, exchanging shots with the orcs. The Black Company and Red Spears took up position to receive the orc attack at the rear. Ursula glanced up nervously at the walls of the canyon, but it seemed as if the orcs had been unable to scale the heights, from which they might have rolled boulders onto the defenders below. She jumped down from the wagon of wounded and drew her sword. Ruprecht and most of the others clumsily followed, some with bandaged chests, arms in slings or hobbling forward on crutches. Ursula leaned over the side, grabbed Ruprecht's hammer from where it lay, and passed him the weapon.

  'I thought you were going to argue,' he said, grabbing the handle in his right hand and hefting the hammer onto his shoulder.

  'Would it have made a difference?' Ursula asked.

  Ruprecht shrugged.

  'It would have shown you cared,' he said with a mock sorrowful look.

  'Tough luck, bear,' she said with a grin. 'You're being paid to fight.'

  They looked at each other for a long moment and then turned and walked down the line of wagons. Ursula felt strangely calm. I'm probably going to die here, she thought, so why aren't I scared?

  'Nice of you to join our little social gathering,' said Soval, his axes ready, as they joined the front of the line at the entrance to the defile. Ursula was about to reply but stopped as the atmosphere suddenly struck her. The mood of the soldiers was surprisingly jovial, as they stood and watched the greenskins closing in. A few pointed at the approaching warriors, making wagers with each other on which enemies they would kill, while others were shouting insults and making rude gestures towards the orcs and goblins.

  'Remember me, you cowards?' bawled Swinefever, his demi-pike held high in one hand. 'Any of you fancy a tickle from my spear?'

  He planted the weapon in the ground, pulled free the laces of his greasy breeches and let them drop to the ground, his company laughing at the unsubtle innuendo.

  'Neither did the girls in Marienburg!' he said, turning to the others as he pulled his breeches up again. He saw Ursula and, with a lopsided grin, gave an apologetic shrug.

  'Now I know why it's called a half-pike,' she called out to him, and received a laughing cheer as reward.

  Ruprecht looked at her, one eyebrow raised.

  'Sorry, have I just shattered some of your illusions?' she said, putting on her sweetest smile. The Talabheimer gave a despairing look and turned back to face the approaching greenskins.

  Ursula pulled her sword free and held it lightly by her side. Was this how it was at Black Fire Pass, she wondered? When the tribes of men had stood shoulder-to-shoulder with the dwarfs, and the great tide of orcs and goblins had swept towards them, had Sigmar joked to his comrades? What had the first Emperor thought as he watched that endless mass of evil descend on his fellow men? Had he known they would be victorious, or had he simply thrown his fate to the gods?

  'Taal certainly works in strange ways.' Gerhardt muttered as he stepped up beside Ursula.

  'To send you Louda as a guide, and then bring you all this way to your death?' she said, glancing at the wildfather then turning her attention back to the foe. The orcs and goblins were gathering around their banners, forming a battleline some two hundred yards away. The priest looked up into the sky and smiled. Ursula followed his gaze and saw an eagle soaring above the canyon, swooping in long figures-of-eight.

  'What does Taal tell you?' she asked.

  'That there are mountain goats with kids up the valley.' he said, 'and that the eagle is hungry.'

  It seemed to take an eternity for the orc attack to begin, as the caravan guards stood waiting in the canyon mouth. As the time dragged on, heartbeat by slow heartbeat, the jokes stopped, the murmuring subsided and an edgy quiet descended on the valley. The orcs made no noise either as they gathered, and the silence was only broken by the clanking of the enemies' weapons and the scuff of small rocks underfoot. The occasional report of handguns, and the whine of orc arrows echoed along the defile. The eagle still circled above, and its screeching cry resounded off the canyon walls.

  'What are they waiting for?' Ruprecht muttered, hand tightening and relaxing on his hammer haft. The greenskins were standing only a couple of hundred paces further down the hill, glowering up at the defenders with their vicious red eyes.

  The ground reverberated with a heavy thud.

  Looking around, Ursula could not find the source of the noise, and many of the others were glancing left and right, exchanging unsettled whispers.

  The ground trembled again, shaking loose pebbles and causing scree to scatter down the defile's walls.

  'What devilry is this?' Ursula said, casting a worried look at Ruprecht and Soval.

  Soval shook his head and Ruprecht gave a noncommittal shrug.

  Again, the ground shuddered and the noise grew louder. Then, above a rise a few hundred yards down the mountainside, the top of a gigantic head appeared, a massive face with blunt features and unintelligent eyes. As the giant came forward, his shoulders and chest came into view. His bald head shone in the mountain sunshine, and sweat glistened over his body, which was tattooed with heavy blue and red swirls.

  The ground shook as the giant approached, until he was in full sight, towering ten times the height of the orcs he accompanied. He was naked except for a loincloth crudely cut from the hide of a bull, its skull still attached, and in his monstrous right fist the giant clasped a club hewn from a tree, a boulder inexpertly wedged into its splitting bra
nches and tied in place with thick rope. Goblins scattered as the giant approached, dodging out from under his huge feet as rocks were pulverised under his tread.

  'Mother of Sigmar...' said Soval, his arms dropping limply to his sides, axes slipping from his fingers.

  'Don't blaspheme!' snapped Ursula, sheathing her sword. She grabbed the dog of war's axes and thrust them into his hands. He took them, blinked at Ursula and then nodded to show that he was alright.

  There were panicked mutterings from the other mercenaries, but this was soon swallowed up by a wall of sound as the orcs and goblins began chanting loudly, urging on their giant ally.

  'Gurt! Gurt! Gurt! Gurt!' they bellowed, and on hearing his name the giant's stupid features split into a broad grin, revealing cracked, uneven teeth like paving slabs. The giant slowly looked left and right at his diminutive allies and raised a hand in welcome, the shadow passing over the orc army.

  'We can't fight that!' one of the Red Spears called out, his weapon clattering to the ground as he turned to run. Swinefever pounced on him with speed unbelievable for his bulk, smashing a fist into the man's jaw and then dragging him upright. With his leader's clenched fist raised for another blow, the soldier flinched, grabbed his weapon from the dusty ground and retook his place in the line.

  'Gurt! Gurt! Gurt! Gurt!' roared the deep bellows of the orcs and the high-pitched voices of the goblins.

  A sharp crack echoed off the walls and a puff of smoke wisped into the air as one of the marksmen turned from the fight with the orc archers at the far end of the convoy and targeted the giant. The bullet whistled overhead and smacked into the giant's leg. The giant gave a surprised grunt and looked at the humans waiting nervously in the canyon. He looked down stupidly at the thin trail of blood trickling down his thigh from the pinprick wound and then back up again.

  The giant's shout was deafening as it bounced off the canyon walls, shaking the wagons and causing rocks to cascade down to the valley floor. Ursula clamped her hands to the ears, dizzied by the volume of the roar.

  'Gurt hurt!' the giant yelled, raising his club into the air. The monster broke into a lumbering run, his foot squashing a wolf rider who had been caught unawares by the sudden charge.

  Covering a dozen yards with every stride, the giant lumbered up the mountainside, his broad mouth twisted in anger, a deep scowl creasing his heavy set brow. The horses were whinnying in terror behind Ursula, straining at their traces, the mules braying and kicking to be freed from their tethers. The orcs and goblins swarmed forward in the giant's wake, their hoarse cheers accompanied by the clattering of their weapons, rapid drumbeats and brash horn blasts.

  'Hold the line!' roared Leonard, striding forward, zweihander held aloft. 'Hold and we can win!'

  Ursula felt a large presence next to her and she glanced right to see Ruprecht standing close by, warhammer head resting at his feet. He looked calmly up at the onrushing giant, shielding the sun from his eyes with the bandaged and bloodied stump of his left arm.

  'Aren't you afraid?' she asked in amazement, her own voice trembling.

  'Bloody terrified,' Ruprecht said between gritted teeth, not looking round.

  A short laugh burst from Ursula's mouth, edged with mania.

  'Don't worry, I've survived uglier things than this,' Ruprecht said. Ursula couldn't see his eyes and so had no way of telling if he was being truthful or not.

  The giant was just fifty yards away now. A crackling volley of pistol fire from the Black Company engulfed the monstrous creature, his skin erupting in a welter of small bloody explosions as bullets tore through his leathery skin. Moaning in pain, the giant's advance slowed for a moment, and then resumed.

  'Red Spear forward!' ordered Swinefever, leading his company half a dozen paces ahead of the Black Company. 'Prepare to receive the charge!'

  Another giggle erupted from Ursula, as the horrendous understatement of the command struck her.

  'Don't lose it now, girl,' said Ruprecht, turning to face her, his eyes angry. 'You're better than that.'

  The approaching giant's shadow fell over the assembled soldiers, and a chill enveloped them. Ursula shivered. I really am going to die here, she thought, drawing her sword again. It was ludicrously thin compared to the sun-blocking bulk of the giant.

  The fury of the giant fell on the Red Spears as it barrelled into them, swinging its club in a wide arc. Many ducked the blow, their spears snapped in two or wrenched from their grasps, but three of them were plucked from the ground and hurled through the air, the bloody pulp of their remains splashing onto the rocks just in front of Ursula.

  Those who still could, struck back with their demi-pikes, lancing the steel tips into the flesh of the giant, more hafts snapping as they encountered the creature's tough hide, a few biting into the thick muscle and fat beneath. The giant ignored their blows and raised his club over his head again.

  The Black Company charged forward, heedless of the orcs that were closing in, their greatswords flashing towards the giant. Bellowing in pain from its wounds, the giant raised its foot up, and then brought it down on the swordsmen, shattering blades and crushing bodies. A childish yet deafening laugh gurgled from the giant's throat as he raised his foot and stamped on the Black Company again, reducing another handful of men to a ragged mess on the cracked stone floor of the valley.

  As the giant's foot lifted into the air for a third time, the Red Spears drove forwards, punching their demi-pikes into the sole of the giant's bare foot. The laughing turned to a confused mewing as the giant raised his foot higher to avoid the blows.

  With a startled grunt, the giant began to topple backwards, tree trunk club falling from his thick fingers and crushing two of the spearmen as he waved his arms in a vain attempt to stay balanced. The goblins that had followed the giant up the hill faltered in their charge and then turned to flee as his massive bulk came crashing down towards them. Over a dozen of them were not fast enough, disappearing beneath the immense body of the giant, their panicked screeches cut short.

  Seizing the moment, the Black Company stormed forwards, hacking at the giant as he flailed on the ground, his random twistings sending men flying through the air, his waggling legs kicking corpses over the heads of the soldiers.

  A tremendous moan shook the valley and the giant raised himself on one arm, using his free hand to swat at the swordsmen, whose long blades were punching through the softer skin of his distended belly into the vitals within. Blood sprayed yards into the air from a severed artery as one of the zweihanders bit through the inside of the giant's thigh, drenching the combatants in a crimson shower. His blood spilling from the fatal wound, the giant flopped back to the ground with an impact that caused men and orcs to lose their footing.

  A collective groan of despair rose up from the orcs and goblins, their charge slowing as their gigantic ally flung an arm into the air, a rasping death rattle echoing over the sounds of men shouting, and the chop of greatswords through leathery skin.

  The giant despatched, the blood soaked mercenaries pulled back and redressed their line to face the orcs, who had paused in disbelief. There was no victory shout, the defenders knew full well that their advantage would be short-lived. Over a quarter of them had been slain by the giant's brutal attacks and many others seriously wounded, and the horde of greenskins filled the valley mouth, goading each other into the final charge.

  For several moments, the two forces eyed each other around the body of the giant, whose blood was pouring in great rivulets back down the mountainside through the orc line. Then a group of orcs at the centre, even burlier than the others, raised their weapons, every one of them carrying an axe or a cleaver in each hand. Their bestial snarling and shouts were accompanied by the clashing of iron as they stormed forwards. A moment later the other greenskins followed, bolstered by the courage of their strongest fighters.

  A boom resounded from back along the wagon line and something screamed overhead. A black blur raced into the orc line, decapitating and
dismembering in a trail of gore, bouncing from the rocks and scything through another half dozen greenskins. Ursula turned in surprise and saw a cloud of smoke rising from the north valley wall. A moment later another detonation sounded out and a second projectile ploughed through the goblins, tossing aside their mangled corpses.

  A grinding noise made the canyon walls shudder, and Ursula saw a vertical line of shadow appearing halfway along the north wall, twenty feet in length. As she watched, the rock face opened outwards like a massive door, dust and rubble tumbling down the steep slopes.

  A clear, deep horn blast sounded from within the opening, and the tramp of iron-shod boots crashed out of the rock. From around the great stone gate appeared a column of dwarfs, their mail shirts shining in the sun, axes raised in challenge, fulsome beards bristling from beneath horned helmets. Rank after rank neatly wheeled from the concealed gateway, banners of gold and green, decorated with angular runes, mark the progress of each regiment.

  The charge of the orcs was brought to halt as the leaders saw the host emerging from nowhere, and terrified goblin voices shrieked out warnings as another horn blow signalled the arrival of yet more dwarfs from the far end of the valley.

  The dwarf leader marched at the front of this second contingent, resplendent in a suit of full armour etched with runes that glowed with their own energy, a gold-headed hammer in one hand. In the other he held aloft the orc warlord's gruesome banner, the creature's own head now added to the collection.

  The two cannons fired again in unison, carving a bloody path through the greenskins. This was all the encouragement they required. The orcs and goblins turned and fled as the dwarf column marched onwards past the startled humans.

  'Well, bugger me...' said Ruprecht, watching the grim-faced, bearded warriors troop past.

  The dwarf leader led his retinue to where Ursula and the others were standing, some of the human soldiers grinning inanely, others dropping to the ground with exhalations of relief.