- This is madness!
The White Skaven with horned temples blenched. The lizard-headed and skinned being in front of him was still, and its thin and dry lips didn't move, but its voice shouted directly into his mind, and translated a rage at the opposite of its nonchalant appearance.
- I... I do not understand your reaction, the ratman stammered.
- Really? However, everything is very clear! You used a powerful artefact belonging to our people, without the approval of our High Priest!
The features of the Skaven White hardened.
- I used a simple piece of jewellery that was in your storage room. A simple golden globe! It allowed me to concentrate enough power to repel our enemies!
- You shouldn't put your wicked dirty hands on this globe! Moreover, what your protest friend has made of it... what a waste!
The cold-thing pointed to an object that the White Skaven was holding against his chest. It was a round mask, entirely composed of gold. Its whole surface was finely chopped with complex patterns. Its form was such that it could be worn on an elongated Skaven skull. Its interior was lined with leather and provided with a braided rope strap to hold it in place.
- It is obvious that this object can serve no one but you! And you do not deserve it! Give it to me.
- No way! This is a gift from Xarkish. You won't touch it!
- Who do you think you are, White Skaven?
- I am a resident of this city, ready to defend it! I defeated a Verminlord! One of the most dangerous creatures of the Skaven people!
- Don't be shy! Say "your" people.
- You know very well I'm not like them! I was raised by yours, I speak your language, and I follow your culture! My only name has Slann resonance!
This time, the cold-thing didn't answer. The Skaven White ventured.
- Without me, you would have suffered huge losses, and you know it. If I was out from a gelatinous egg stored in a pond, you would have made me a hero. But as I was born as Skaven, you can't bear it! I usually do my best to remain humble before Sotek, and I forget your customary bad faith. But this time... there is no more word to name such an ingratitude!
- You're becoming so insolent, Skaven.
- And you're insulting me, priest Kauathi! Be sure Xarkish will be informed of your lack of reason!
- It doesn't change anything! Xarkish has not Kroak's authority, and you don't have your say! Now head down if you don't want us to take it off your shoulders!
The White Skaven opened his mouth, but no sound came out of his long teeth. He resigned himself to lower his arm. His interlocutor took the opportunity to whistle again:
- And give us this abjection! This is sacrilege!
With a furious gesture, the cold-thing took the golden mask from the hands of White Skaven. He didn't dare protest, knowing that it was useless. The reptilian creature opened a huge mouth, and its multicoloured collar deployed.
- You're not our kind, Skaven! You'll never be a Slann! But you tend to forget it, and if we're not careful, you'll eventually attract misfortune. I'll personally ensure Kroak acts accordingly!
He turned with a firm, and walked away, still holding with his webbed hands the artefact. The White Skaven clenched his fists in rage.
Kroak is a poor terrified moron! If only he could see farther than his burst stomach!
Once alone, he picked up out a cupboard of the small room a terracotta bottle, a ceramic bowl, and poured himself a shot of alcohol. The hot liquid burned his oesophagus, but relieved not the knot in his stomach. He heard again the voice of the cold-thing. With a yelp angry, he threw the bowl that crashed against a wall.
The White Skaven raised his fist before his face, and looked at it. His tighten fingers were trembling. He murmured with a wheezing, charged in anger and contempt voice:
- Imbecile...
A mouse was trotting through the gallery, looking for something to eat. It stopped, stood on its hind legs, scanned the darkness with its small black eyes, and sniffed. It smelled a both familiar and unknown odour. The characteristic scent of one of its male fellows. It went on its way, and stopped again by discerning a form that almost obstructed the tunnel. The smell emanated from this form. It approached, was struggling to understand things which seemed contradictory: the smell was that of a mouse, it distinguished a clear and silky coat like a mouse, but no mouse was so big!
The shape moved very slowly, and two pink shines appeared above its enormous muzzle. Interestingly, the mouse remained motionless, waiting for a reaction, ready to flee in case of danger.
Psody the White Skaven emerged from a sleep disturbed by strange dreams, as it was in recent months. He yawned, and opening his eyes wide, he noticed a little mouse a few feet from him, which looked at him with an intrigued posture. He murmured with a smile:
- Hi, you.
With great precautions, the young ratman searched into his haversack. He felt his fingers close on one of his last cookie. He reached it out as slowly as possible so as not to scare his little visitor and placed the sweetmeat on the dusty ground. The mouse stepped back and galloped back. Then when the White Skaven had moved back his arm, it approached. It walked to the cookie, and eventually nibbled it. Psody felt his smile growing, pleased to have made at least one happy being.
Things had really changed for the little ratman. A few months earlier, he was promised to a bright Grey Seer future in the colony of Brissuc. But since the visions began, everything went wrong. His master, Grey Seer Vellux, became increasingly suspicious vis-à-vis him, and finally ordered his execution. And his own blood brother, Klur of Clan Eshin, stabbed him in the back and left him for dead in a swamp.
His short life could have known an abrupt end without the providential intervention of a Human hermit who lived in the swamp. Old Katel had treated him with admirable dedication. Above all, she had prepared him to follow his own path. This way, he was sure, was going through a decisive meeting.
Gotrek Gurnisson and Felix Jaeger. Two names regularly income in horrible nightmares where he saw them bullying him, and where he felt a burning anger against them. Two things he wasn't able to explain. Other visions where he saw cold-things torture and exterminate Skaven also haunted his sleep. Maybe Jaeger, adventurer feared by the Sons of the Horned Rat, had an explanation?
Thus he had gone to Sub-Marienburg, the Skaven city built under the major port city of Humans. He presented himself under a false name at one of the local Grey Seers, and didn't stay long enough to evoke suspicion. It had taken him a week to find out where the both lads had been spotted for the last time. After quietly asked the spies of Clan Eshin, he had learned a lot about the duo.
The infamous Grey Seer Thanquol really had a grudge against them. Lately, he had circulated information as what he would give a large reward to anyone who could bring him alive the two Skaven slayers. Most Skaven didn't want to waste their time or their live chasing the chimera of the Grey Seer. But the leaders of the great cities wanted to know where they were to prepare to receive, if any. So they had been spotted in a province to the central lands of the Empire. Brief discrete visits to other smaller Skaven communities had eventually led him to Gottliebschloss.
It was time to hit the road. The daylight, visible through the hole he had dug in the morning to sleep, decreased gradually. The sun was setting. Psody looked back at the little mouse. It had finished his meal, and rubbed its head with both paws. He whispered:
- I gotta go. Wish me luck, okay?
Hearing his acute and slightly hoarse voice, the mouse stopped cleaning, didn't answer, but the little ratman thought see it wink at him. Then it spun and disappeared into a dark corner. Psody sighed, and crawled slowly toward the exit, pulling his bag with his tail. His long horns scraped the tunnel wall above him, dropping clods of earth on his head. A minute later, he was out.
He stood up, stretched, took a long breath. The sun was slowly descending towards the horizon, tinting the fog with copper light. The first stars appeared between the clouds. He adjusted his bag, looked around to find the right direction, and resumed his journey.
Well! Let's face reality! he thought as he went down the hill where he had taken refuge.
But this research was not the only motivation of the small White Skaven.
The more time passed, the less he could bear solitude. Formerly guarantee his safety, it had become a burden that gripped his bowels as soon as he was awake. He had tasted the warmth of the affection of his benefactress, and away from her, felt his heart freeze every day. His quest for the truth about his visions was turning gradually into something else. Something that drove him to seek company. Company as warm and pleasant.
Of course, the Skaven of Sub-Marienburg had deference to him. By his White Skaven attributes, he had been quickly seen as a Grey Seer. However, during these few days, he had to work hard to continue to behave as a Skaven. This short stay had finally convinced him. For Skaven, all was nothing but fear, hypocrisy and wickedness. His status as Grey Seer had preserved him from many threats that permanently planed over the head of each ordinary Skaven. When he had left Sub-Marienburg, he had expected to be several leagues away to empty his heart, and had spent a whole hour crying. He had not been able to determine which had shocked him mostly: so much violence, or have been himself the architect of this violence during the first four years of his life.
And the following days were not very easy, either. Every time he had passed near a Human village, he couldn't help observing the people discreetly. Simple people, living a modest, rude, often tinged with the fear of foreigners or unexplained life, but when they met, with family or friends, they were happy. As he progressed, the young Skaven White was more and more envious. And, of course, he was careful not to appear to them, knowing they would quickly chase him with stones.
However, he had overcome all these emotions, and had redoubled speed to reach his destination as soon as possible. Now he was nearing his goal, and that restored his courage. Finally, as the sun ended down on a sea of mist, he saw in the distance the dark shape of a large building.
Gottliebschloss was a castle in the middle of a domain ruled by Lord Gottlieb. Built on the edge of a forest, this castle wasn't so big, but it looked solid. A circular tower stood in the centre of the ramparts, and Humans had dug deep and wide moat at the foot of the walls. The little ratman frowned when he saw a multitude of spots around the perimeter. He whistled in concern.
Gottliebschloss was surrounded by Skaven! A whole camp, consisted with animal skin tents hastily erected, in which the curved silhouettes of Clanrats were crawling. There were a large number, perhaps a hundred or two. Psody studied carefully their position. Presumably, they weren't ready to attack. They "settled" for besieging the Human fortress. Minimum risk, virtually guaranteed success as long as no external assistance intervene... this complicated things for the small White Skaven. How would he approach Gotrek and Felix?
He had already asked the question to himself, and had devised schemes as a discreetly provided letter, infiltration through the sewers, no matter what the genre, with a good presumption to be received with great suspicion. However, this state of siege radically changed things: as the Sons of the Horned Rat would be there, he would have no chance of being received friendly, or even listened to! He clenched his fists in frustration. Then concentrated, and gradually grasped the issues.
If he wanted to inspire confidence in Felix Jaeger, there was only one solution: convince him that he was different from other Skaven. And for that, he saw a way he judged acceptable. His pink eyes shone with determination when he thought:
I will eliminate all of them!
And he would without hesitation to achieve his purpose. It was no more shoot in its back a lenient Human or kill innocent injured people. For him, the Skaven had become sadistic and violent monsters, and in his youthful spirit, fighting against them was now a need to redeem his own sins.
He approached quietly, hiding in the bushes, behind trees. He didn't want to show himself immediately. Not that he feared getting caught by his peers – he was too far from Vellux and still unknown to be recognized by everyone. But he wanted to attract the least possible attention, and preferred to be sure to have a well constructed plan before contacting these Skaven. Looking more closely, he spotted many banners. That was to say, the sons of the Horned Rat called "banners" these morbid ornaments compounds with corpses nailed on planks arranged in a triangle.
Hmm... it smells Clan Moulder!
It was in the ways of this Clan to brandish such banners. And the presence of huge cages, many tens of feet long, designed for storage of monstrous creatures, confirmed his suspicions.
Psody decided to tour the site hoping to find a way to advance the situation to his advantage. He moved again, being careful to stay downwind. Skaven of Clan Moulder had sharper senses than those from other Clans, and he didn't want to be felt immediately. He distinguished two Stormvermin who were watching the space between two tents that served as entrance of the camp.
The sun was now lying. It was dusk. This made little difference to him, but he knew Humans would have to stay under the light of their torches if they wanted to have more chances of survival.
A reflex made the ear of the small White Skaven swing rearward. He turned and took a few steps in the direction where the noise came from. He walked away from the castle, to sink into the forest. He distinguished the runoff of a small river covered by the sounds of a violent struggle. Panting, hissing with rage, and the rustling blades digging into the flesh. Quickly, he jumped in a bush, and did move no more.
A group of humans was savagely fighting against a band of Skaven. As usual, the Skaven were twice as many and fought hard. Humans were demonstrating a formidable power. They wore no uniform, just leather clothes and a long coat. Weapons sparkled with each impact, blood flied in spurts, bones and cartilages cracked. Psody saw several bodies from both sides already lied on leaves.
Gradually, the gap between men and ratmen tightened. Once a Skaven fell under the blows of a Human, another tried to flee and found himself quickly caught and eliminated. Nevertheless, the sons of the Horned Rat struggled with the energy of despair. After a long minute, there remained only one Human, facing the biggest Skaven. A few passes later, the tip of the short sword of the man found his way into the sternum of the Clanrat. The Skaven fell on his knees, gurgling, spat a stream of blood, and squirmed nervously on the ground before dying.
The Human sighed in relief, mopped his forehead, and allowed himself a grin.
- Not born yet, the sewer rat that would stab Kleist!
Psody remained well hidden. It was obvious that this Human wouldn't be willing to be friendly. Moreover, it wouldn't stay long alive, either. The little ratman noticed one of the Skaven down, a Skryre Skirmisher, was not quite dead. He mobilised the little energy he had left to raise his warplock pistol and opened fire. The young White Skaven blenched when he heard the explosion. For a short moment, he relived the moment a crossbowman had nearly killed him that way. Without the providential intervention of Chitik, his elder black coated brother, he wouldn't have been there.
Kleist fell, nose in a molehill, and moved no more. He had not had time to regret the loss of his comrades.
The little ratman waited a few minutes to be sure not to be surprised by others attracted by the noise. Then he came out of his hiding place, cuing. He counted six Humans and twenty Skaven. Three against one, even more, for the Skaven, and yet the battle had ended in a draw. The men of the Empire had proved to be formidable warriors. The little ratman didn't touch anything. There was nothing to loot on Skaven, and Humans...
If I ransack them, the Imperials will take me for a thief!
A single object, however, caught his attention. One of the men wore around its neck a polished and carved horn with a cord. It was probably a way to signalise its presence in the Human way. He decided to collect it, thinking he could find any use to it, and stuffed it into his bag. That's when he heard something that made him straighter up. He walked away from the river to better perceive the flow of syllables that became increasingly clear. Yes, it was swearing in his native language.
- Come on, faster, good for nothing-nothing! Jourg must not wait for us!
Psody hid behind a bush and looked furtively. He saw three Skaven coming in his direction. Two servants were bent under a sedan chair, which on a thin White Skaven with a long black spotted snout was stamping.
This show gave an idea to the little ratman.
They're waiting for a White Skaven! It is a way!
He then called:
- Hey, brother Grey Seer!
The White Skaven pulled on a string wrapped around the neck of the front porter.
- Stop-stop!
The convoy stopped. The White Skaven rose and yelled:
- Who's there? Who spoke?
- It's me!
Psody raised his arms, and slowly left the bush. The White Skaven leaned toward him.
- Who are you?
- I am Psody, a chosen one of the Horned Rat, like you. And you?
- Boughree. What are you doing here?
- I'm here to assist Jourg!
- Oh yeah?
- Yes, he's the head of the camp further, isn't he?
Boughree had a skeptical grimace.
- You're talking about Jourg of Clan Skryre?
Psody was about to say yes, but he stopped just. What if this Grey Seer wanted to trick him? The young ratman thought at full speed.
Well, if Jourg is the head, the banner should be visible everywhere. This is not this of the Clan Skryre I saw!
- No, he's a member of Clan Moulder!
Boughree's face defused, he had a satisfied grin.
- That's right. Forgive this guile, but caution is precious-precious.
Psody smiled back, thinking he had beaten this Grey Seer at his own game. The latter asked:
- You're rather young for a Grey Seer.
- I tasted warpstone a few moons ago.
- Ah, I see. You're still a small young rat.
Boughree grimaced then a sort of condescending smile that made burn the nervous system of the small White Skaven. Indeed, all that conflicted with the values Katel taught him, and what was once annoying but bearable was no longer acceptable. He made a terrible effort to hide his indignation. The other didn't realise anything, and asked:
- Haven't you seen Clanrats in the corner?
- Yes, yes! Near the river, they were killed-killed by men-things.
Boughree trembled with rage.
- What? Oh, by the Horned Rat! It was my guard!
- Your guard?
- Take me to them, I'll explain.
The Grey Seer got down his chair. He slapped the neck of the head porter.
- Stay here, I won't be long.
The two White Skaven scampered to the river.
- You came to help Jourg, too?
- Yes, with my Clanrats. His Grey Seer... fell sick. I know Jourg. Friend-friend with him. I replace-replace his Grey Seer.
They quickly arrived on the scene of the massacre. Boughree stamped again.
- I don't believe it! Twenty Clanrats, and they're all dead!
- The Hum... the men-things have been lucky. They paid with their live.
- Yeah... Well, tell me if you see something interesting.
Boughree didn't want to touch the Human corpses. He gestured toward the bodies, inviting him to do the dirty work. A new proof of contempt. Psody thought that Grey Seer, not only was taking pleasure by humiliating him, could become a significant obstacle if not get rid very quickly at the first opportunity.
Now, for example!
He pretended to look at one of the bodies to examine. He fumbled in the clothing of the man with one hand and slowly drew his dagger on the other, taking care to stay backs. Once the weapon well in hand, he exclaimed:
- Oh! Come see-see!
Boughree quickened his pace to Psody.
- What, what?
He stopped behind the little ratman, and leaned forward to look over his shoulder. This latter got up in a jump, turned on his heel and in the same movement, firmly planted his dagger into the heart of his older. Boughree widened his eyes.
- W... why?
Psody grabbed the White Skaven by his collar, and whispered in a terrible voice:
- I must know what the Horned Rat wants to tell me, even if I have to sacrifice-sacrifice all Skaven this camp to get there! And you're the first one!
He pulled his knife and plunged it into the whole chest while of the other White Skaven, again and again. Then he cut his throat, made him collapse with a flabby noise. He wiped the blade of his weapon on the clothes of his new victim, put it in his belt. He noticed the ring set with a pearl blood that the Grey Seer had around his finger. He withdrew it carefully before storing in his little bag. After that, he took the body to the river, and swung it into the water. The corpse of the White Skaven sank to the bottom.
Psody was shaking like a leaf. He didn't regret at all his gesture, but taking a life was no longer an act as innocuous for him. Then he saw a small leather purse fell from the body of Boughree. He opened it, and a very special smell jumped to his nose. The smell didn't let any room for doubt.
Warpstone!
Indeed, it was the small crystals emitting a soft greenish glow. The power, the energy of the Warp at hand, provided once put in the mouth. The corrupting might of Grey Seers, addiction and madness threatening with each shot, but the game was worth the candle if you agreed to take the risk.
Psody didn't hesitate long. In a gesture, he threw the small leather purse in the river. It disappeared in a moment, swept away by the current.
I hope there won't be too many mutant fish, this year...
Then he remembered the two porters. These two would also have to disappear. A Skaven alone and on foot could enter Jourg's place with one or two details to appear more credible.
He crouched near the Human who had the deepest and bloody wounds, and bit his lip.
Sorry, Lady Katel...
He laid full length on the body, and vigorously rubbed his clothes on injuries, brushing it with blood. He also smeared his hands, face and legs, and added a few spots of Skaven blood. Then he went back to the porters. It took him about ten seconds to destroy them both thanks to the magic of Warp. Finally, he ran towards the camp, ready to face Jourg of Clan Moulder.
The two Stormvermin were surprised to see this little bloodied and disheveled White Skaven coming from nowhere.
- Attention, attention! There's trouble! Take me to your leader, quickly!
Without a word, one of the two Black Skaven motioned Psody to follow him. Both crossed camp.
Psody had to admit, they were pretty well equipped. Not enough to withstand a whole army, but the people of Gottliebschloss were in trouble. The camp was under the responsibility of Clan Moulder, and it was obvious. The White Skaven passed a large cage ten feet high, in which were kept two huge rat-ogres. Further were ranged several wooden boxes tightly closed, and equipped with holes on their sides, which left escape little squeaks. Rats as big as dogs, ready to be released into the sewers of the castle.
Further, four dark haired, hooded Skaven, honing a collection of blades of all sizes. One of them had also replaced his incisors by knife blades. In front, three twisted-limbed Clan Skryre engineers tested their warpstone jezzails by exercising on a moving target, an unfortunate Skaven with a round painted on his short-haired chest. Psody and the Black Skaven crossed ten Clanrats doing back and forth running. In the corner of his eye, the young ratman distinguished a high dark shape. Looking more closely, he understood what it was.
They have a Screaming Bell! Things are getting fun...
The Screaming Bell was one of the worst Skaven inventions for war. This was a large chariot pulled and pushed by slaves. The upper part was consisted of a small wooden bell tower, topped by an impressive forged brass inlaid warpstone bell. The seat that was before the bell was occupied by a Grey Seer, who could then watch in height the progress of the battle, give instructions, use the magic of Warp on his enemies, and most importantly, ring the bell, and send vibrations powerful enough to excite the Skaven who became much more effective in combat and disrupt entire buildings.
Psody never had the opportunity to manoeuvre such a machine in real battle conditions, but Grey Seer Vellux taught him the basics and made him practice with the bell of Brissuc on abandoned buildings. The art of the ringer was to proper balance the hammer strikes, because excessive vibrations could cause discomfort for the Skaven, and destroy the Bell.
Finally, the Black Skaven Black growled:
- It's here.
They stopped before a large round tent about twenty feet in diameter, wide open. The White Skaven distinguished a thick dark figure within two shiny orange pearls glowing where the face was. A shrill voice squeaked:
- Well, well! A Grey Seer I don't know!
Psody saw out of the tent a brown Skaven with unusual characteristics for ratmen: he had particularly long and sharp incisors, shining eyes with a strange glow, many festering wounds and a straw-coloured second right arm, longer and more muscular pasted under his armpit, on his ribs.
- Mighty-smart chief, this Grey Seer has presented to us, explained the Black Skaven. I bring him to you under your orders.
- I see this is a Grey Seer, stupid-idiot! But this is not the one I expected. Where is Boughree? Who are you?
- I am Psody, son of the Horned Rat. Boughree died, with his escort! I saw everything. They were massacred by men-things! Boughree defended, but they got him. I finished the two survivors. Just before he died, Boughree consigned me his ring and asked me to get it to you.
Psody picked out his bag the ring, and handed it to Jourg. The latter seized it with his extra hand, and looked carefully.
- Hmm... it sounds true.
- Well, why would I lie to you? Or... would you dare doubt the word of a Grey Seer, Jourg of Clan Moulder? said the young ratman in a suave and disturbing voice.
He played his role so well that the Moulder finally accepted this story. He even retrieved the deference he had hitherto neglected. He knelt down and stammered:
- Never-ever, subtle and just messenger of our god. What can do your miserable-pathetic servant, o light illuminating our dark spirits?
Nor this obsequious compliment, nor seeing this repulsive character flattening before him pleased the small White Skaven. This didn't displease him either. In fact, it left him indifferent. Skaven sycophancy was now without effect on him. However, he was able to learn more about Gottliebschloss.
- Tell me the status of the men-things!
- They should not delay to give up! It's been almost two moons they are besieged! Tired-tired, they will run out of food-food.
- And you didn't have defeated them yet?
Jourg grimaced.
- Men-things rather stubborn. Refuse to surrender, and well armed! They have men-things jezzails! Clanrats approaching too much are killed by their bullets-bullets. I asked other reinforcements. Soon, soon we'll be enough to crush them!
- Perfect. I'll help you lead the attack.
- Wonderful-wonderful, o magnificence! With the support of a chosen one of the Horned Rat, we win for sure! I'm going to pitch a tent to yourself.
Psody slowly nodded with a smile he tried to show approvingly. In fact, he felt that the troubles were gathering. The more the Skaven would be numerous around Gottliebschloss, the more they would be difficult to dislodge. He had to act quickly!