by Warhammer
‘I’m no longbeard,’ claimed another of the Varnfolk when his time to speak came, ‘but to me it seemed as though a sea of goblinfolk and orcs came into the mountains in a great tide, from the north and from the east. It was as though the Dark Lands had vomited forth every foul goblin, orc, troll and other savage it had, and each was intent upon a dwarf hall for its lair and dwarf gold for its hoard.’
‘Dragons have come, bringing fire and terror,’ said a third a little while later, drawing a hush across the great hall, broken by derisive shouts and scoffs. ‘The elves brought them back, and when the elves retreated the scaled beasts would not go with them, it is said. They found caves and wild places to slumber, but now the volcanoes belch forth their fire and the ground trembles and the dragons have been woken from the sleep they desired. Gems and gold they seek for their beds, and roasted dwarf for their suppers. And they remember, being the kin of those that we slew defending our homes, and they want their revenge upon our people though we only protected ourselves in good faith.’
Proceedings were brought to a close on the evening of the first day before Gabbik had to speak. He was loathe to pay for lodgings overnight, for his number was close and he would be heard early the next day. However, wardens came into the great hall and cajoled, and sometimes carried, the dwarfs out into the lobby, and the great gates were barred behind them. Gabbik sought Thundred, thinking perhaps that previous hospitality might be repeated, but the old captain was suddenly and mysteriously indisposed to the Angboks.
There were no few dwarfs putting down bedrolls and setting camp in the tunnels and chambers around the king’s halls. The local clansdwarfs took exception to this and made their displeasure known through hard glares and much tutting. Gabbik counted himself amongst those able to withstand such criticism and spent the night on the floor not far from the lobby.
Of Skraffi there was no sign, and Gabbik presumed his father had decided to head homewards on his own.
Gabbik woke early, breakfasted on cold ham and soft cheese washed down with a light ale, and then made his way back to the audience hall. The door wardens were reluctant to let in anybody at that time, but when Gabbik showed them the number on his token they conceded that he would soon be called up and it was best if he was close to the front of the benches to expedite the matter.
Stewards and maids in the king’s colours were sweeping the hall, clearing out the firepit and making ready for the day’s petitioning. Gabbik was surprised to see the king in attendance – Erstukar sat on his throne at the height of the dais with a score of his retainers around him. There was much head-shaking and beard-stroking but on what topic Gabbik had no idea.
He found himself a place near the central aisle at the front, relieved himself of his pack and sat down. It had been some time since he had relieved himself in another fashion but he was not too uncomfortable as he waited for the king to despatch his confidants back to the benches and officially recommence the council.
There were less than a dozen dwarfs to speak before Gabbik and he practised what he would say in his head over and over, barely paying attention to the other statements being made before him. He considered it a source of pride that he could make such an address without reference to a written speech or even notes and hoped that there would be a few sharp-eyed officials of the royal clans taking note of such dedication and adherence to tradition.
‘What are you going to do? About your old man?’ Vadlir asked.
‘What do you mean?’
‘That was a speech and a half. Are you going to back up Skraffi or not?’
Gabbik pulled his numbered token from his pocket and turned it over a few times, considering his options.
When there were only two more speakers before him, Gabbik levered himself off the bench and approached the front of the hall. From there he was able to overhear some of the conversation amongst the most high-ranking council members on the benches. He did not dare look left or right, but heard the name Angbok a few times, and not once in a complimentary tone.
Just as he was about to speak there was a commotion at the back of the hall. Gabbik ignored the raised voices and looked at the timekeeper, who gave him a nod and upended his glass.
‘I am Gabbik Angbok,’ he introduced himself, somewhat mumbling his surname in case it would be held against him. ‘I am Vice-Treasurer of the Ekrund Miners’ Welfare and Social Society and I come with a proposal…’
The noise was getting quite loud. There were shouts and a wave of astonished gasps and grunts spread across the assembled dwarfs. Gabbik looked up and the king was not looking back at him, but at something a short distance behind. The Angbok thane cleared his throat and raised his voice.
‘As I was saying, I am here on behalf of the Ekrund Miners’ Welfare and Social Society to propose one possible proposal to a solution that might solve the refugees issue, or somewhat mitigate the impact…’
He gave up again as the angry bellows and growls of annoyance increased further. Fists on hips, Gabbik turned around to see what was causing so much fuss.
The crowd was splitting, making way for a lone dwarf.
The new arrival was half-naked, his torso and arms heavily tanned, tattooed with blue designs of coiling dragons and angular runes. His hair was cropped almost to the scalp except for a tall crest that, like his beard, had been stiffened and held in place with numerous rune- and face-etched badges of gold, silver and bronze. Both hair and beard were dyed a dark orange and there was a ring of black stone through the dwarf’s nostrils, which in turn was connected by a golden chain to a piercing in his left ear.
A Slayer.
The oathsworn of Grimnir, the Slayers had forsaken all life and honour to account for some great shame, and in doing so had given their word to seek a noble and honourable death in battle. They sought out creatures of great ferocity and danger to kill, and as it was physically impossible for a dwarf to attempt something without trying his utter best, those that survived their early encounters swiftly became proficient monster hunters. This one had scars across his shoulders, belly and chest to attest to several decades of failing to meet a bloody doom.
Much of the commotion was due to the immense rune axe the Slayer carried in his right fist. It was almost as large as him and its edge glinted with a blue sheen. The runes wrought into the metal of the blade had a dark air to them – fell symbols of death and ruination. Hammer-bearing door wardens were in pursuit, but none of them looked too keen to actually tackle the determined Slayer and had resolved to follow at a close but safe distance instead.
The other cause for some discussion amongst the assembled dwarfs was the troll’s head he carried, lank hair bundled in his other fist, severed neck slurping and scraping across the floor.
Gabbik found himself square in the Slayer’s path and unable to get out of his way due to the press of other petitioners around him. The Slayer fixed his flint-grey gaze on Gabbik, urging him aside, but all Gabbik could do was smile weakly and shrug. The Slayer stopped in his advance half a pace from Gabbik and dropped the troll head with a loud thud that resounded around the hall.
‘Found a stone troll,’ the Slayer announced, somewhat unnecessarily, Gabbik thought. ‘You’ve got three more from up in the woods to the north, and you’ve got a couple of river trolls out west. I’ll be after them next.’
There were a few shouted challenges to this claim – from dwarfs conveniently hidden in the crowd Gabbik noted. It was a bold statement, that there were half a dozen or more trolls within walking distance of the hold. Gabbik was just glad that Skraffi wasn’t there to hear this claim – he had been endless about his own troll encounter and how it foretold far worse to come.
‘I can go back north instead, if you like,’ the Slayer said, putting his axe over his shoulder. Gabbik could smell the troll now, and realised that some of the colour he had taken for tattoos on the Slayer’s chest was actually dried blood. The Slayer had come straight from the killing!
‘I… Er, that is, wh
ere exactly did you find this troll?’ Gabbik asked, peering down at the head that had rolled against his foot.
‘Near some bee hives, up the top of your pastures. Caught his scent on the wind as I was coming up the south road.’
‘And what brought you to our hold in the first place?’ The question echoed down from the king before Gabbik could remark on the fact that it was probably the same troll that had attacked his father and daughter. The thane was shouldered to one side as the Slayer walked to the bottom step of the dais. ‘Are there not enough monsters for your kind in the old mountains?’
‘Plenty, King Erstukar, but I was on the trail of a particular beast.’ The Slayer’s nose chain jingled as he rolled his neck, releasing a series of eye-watering cracks. ‘Tracked it all the way down from Karak Varn and then lost it in the mountains. A two-headed troll, no less. I wasn’t expecting to find many more, for sure.’
‘You’ve come from the east?’ Erstukar straightened and scratched his cheek. ‘Perhaps you could tell us what you saw there. It is a treacherous place and our rangers can only cover so much ground. There are others, survivors of Karak Varn, that are coming here and I would know if you have seen them.’
‘I saw nothing save for the two-headed troll, your kingship,’ said the Slayer. ‘I parted with the Varnfolk at the pass above Karag Dron and have seen nothing of them since. Nor any orc, wyvern, giant or other creature deserving my axe.’
‘But there’s meant to be hundreds more coming,’ said Gabbik, quite forgetting himself and where he was. The moment he spoke up he regretted it, as he became the centre of attention. ‘That is, my daughter, she spoke to one of the Varnfolk who said there were lots of others coming. She said we should send out patrols to help them. But if there are no orcs, what are we protecting them against?’
‘I saw no orcs,’ said the Slayer, ‘but I am only one dwarf. The orcs will be in the wildlands, if not now then soon. I saw tens of thousands of them at Karak Varn, making that place their stronghold.’
‘Tens of…’ Gabbik laughed. ‘I believe perhaps shame and grief have addled your counting, friend.’
The Slayer turned his cold eyes on Gabbik and for the second time in recent moments he regretted opening his mouth.
‘Believe what you like, friend, and I will too.’ The Slayer returned his attention to the king. ‘I will kill your trolls for you and then I will return to Karak Varn. Others of Grimnir’s brotherhood are gathering for the battle. We will go to Karak Varn and there we shall die.’
The Slayer turned and stomped away up the hall, leaving Gabbik staring after him in disbelief.
The chime of a bell drew his attention to the timekeeper.
‘You’re done,’ said Randar Rinkeldraz, waving his glass at Gabbik.
‘But… The Slayer… My time… The Ekrund Miners’ Welfare and Social Society proposal?’
‘Next!’ bellowed the timekeeper. Gabbik saw that a few of the door wardens who had followed the Slayer were now eying him suspiciously. The Slayer had shown them up and he knew they would be looking to make an example of someone.
‘All right, I’m off,’ he said quickly, as hammer-bearing dwarfs formed a loose ring around him.
‘And don’t forget to take that,’ Randar growled, nodding at the troll head.
Gabbik opened his mouth to protest but shut it again as the timekeeper’s eyebrow shot up. With a sigh he grabbed the troll head by the hair and dragged it after him.
CHAPTER SEVEN
‘When the Angboks and the rest of the Urbarvornfolk got to the foothills of the Dragonback Mountains they were very pleased with themselves. However, the first thing they discovered in the Dragonback Mountains was not gold or gromril or even silver or tin. It was goblins. Lots of goblins.
The elves had cleared most of the wildlands, driving the greenskins into the marshes and jungles to the south, but they had never entered the mountains. So it was that the Urbarvornfolk suddenly found themselves in the middle of goblin territory.’
On the third day the foothills and tumbledown rocks gave way to the flats of the wildlands. For the first time in her life Haldora looked out over a sea of undulating grass that spread out to the south and east as far as the eye could see, broken by the occasional tor and ridge, gently sloping away from the mountains.
As the expedition continued, here and there they came across signs of the exodus from Karak Varn: swathes of grass flattened by groups of dwarfs trudging from the north; snapped belts; tufts of ragged cloth; discarded odds and ends like bent cloak pins and split water skins; burn marks from fires; and apple cores and well-gnawed bones.
These last discoveries gave Gunnarumm food for thought and he called a halt several times to examine the ground further. When the veteran ranger stopped the expedition to examine a camp site beside a thin babbling brook, Haldora took the opportunity to quiz Gunnarumm on what he was looking for.
‘Every piece of bone or peel we find makes you frown,’ she said. ‘Why?’
‘We shouldn’t be finding anything like that,’ replied Gunnarumm. ‘There’s all sorts of creatures and birds out here that would be away with a nice bit of food like that as soon as you turn your back.’
‘Come to think of it,’ said Haldora, ‘I don’t remember seeing anything since we came out of the mountains. No hares, no foxes, no birds, nothing.’
‘That’s right, we seen nothing on the march except…’ The ranger turned to look back north and west, where eagles and other birds soared over the mountains. ‘They seem happy enough.’
‘So what’s happened to all the animals?’ asked Nakka, joining the pair. ‘Orcs chased them off?’
‘May have been that,’ said Gunnarumm. ‘But they’d have had to have a grand fright to desert the area completely. This time of year they’ll have young to feed and all.’
A call from one of the other dwarfs attracted their attention to the thin dribble of the stream. Three of the party were hauling something out of the water.
It was an orc. A crossbow bolt transfixed its head from cheek to nape of neck. The creature was nearly twice the height of a dwarf, though when alive it would hunch over, long arms dangling, almost dragging its knuckles on the ground. Its green skin was marked by warts and scars, turned pale by the time in the water. It was dressed in thick leather armour, reinforced in places with pieces of bronze mail and rivets. It wore a black smock beneath the armour and heavy boots.
‘Any more?’ Gunnarumm called out. There was a reply from further upstream – another two orc bodies, both showing cuts from axes and bruising from hammer blows. ‘A few days ago, no more, I reckon.’
‘Not long enough to reach Ekrund,’ said one of the other rangers, Glorri, crouching down to look at the flattened grass and reeds by the stream. ‘Quite a fight.’
Gunnarumm joined him and they grunted and pointed out various things to each other for some time. Eventually they stood up, hands shielding their eyes as they looked west, back towards the mountains.
‘They must have moved off the road,’ Gunnarumm concluded.
‘Don’t make no sense, not when they were so close to the Dragonbacks,’ said Glorri. He shook his head, long black beard swaying in the breeze. ‘Even if they pushed on in the night they could follow a brick road without problem.’
‘Unless the road was too dangerous to stay there,’ suggested Nakka. He waved a hand at the dead orc. ‘They’d already been attacked once. At least. Some of the refugees said the orcs followed them for days on end, waiting for a straggler.’
‘All the more reason to keep together and keep on the road,’ argued Glorri.
‘Unless they hadn’t a choice,’ said Haldora. ‘What if they were taken from the road?’
Gunnarumm and Glorri looked at each other and then around at the campsite.
‘Upwards of twenty, twenty-five dwarfs camped here,’ said Glorri, pacing around the tracks and fire marks. ‘And if there was a bigger fight here we’d see more disturbance.’
‘And
more blood,’ added Gunnarumm. ‘My reckoning is that these three jokers here,’ he jabbed his axe at the trio of dead orcs that had been piled together on the stream bank, ‘tried to sneak in one night and got short shrift for their troubles.’
‘Still doesn’t explain what happened to twenty-five-or-some dwarfs,’ said Nakka. ‘We’d have definitely met ‘em on the road if they’d been coming the other way.’
‘It’d take a brave orc to fight a dwarf one-on-one, even in the open,’ said Haldora. ‘There must have been more than fifty.’
Glorri laughed. ‘Fifty orcs? You think we’ve been walking around with our helmets over our eyes since winter? There’s no fifty orcs in these parts, not without us knowing.’
‘Even if they followed the refugees from the north?’
‘Especially,’ said Gunnarumm. ‘That’s the overland route to Barak Varr. They send out patrols just as much as we do. Nope, I’ve got to say I’m with Glorri on this one. There ain’t no warband of fifty orcs. Them from Karak Varn must have got turned around or somesuch.’
The rest of the group seemed happy with this explanation and Gunnarumm signalled for the patrol to move on along the road. ‘Leave the orcs for the vermin.’
‘Shouldn’t we be heading further south?’ Haldora asked, while the other dwarfs assembled from across the old campsite. ‘If the refugees got lost, they could wander into the marshes.’
‘And that’s why there’s no point looking for them that way,’ said Glorri. ‘They’d turn back as soon as the ground got boggy.’
‘They were desperate, in the dark maybe, tired and worried about orcs. They might not have realised they were heading into the marshes.’
‘And how do you expect us to help them if they did?’ asked Gunnarumm. ‘Get stuck in there with them?’
‘You don’t even want to look?’ Haldora’s impassioned question raised a few inquiring grumbles from amongst the others. ‘What about the orcs? What if they were to the south?’
