KALEN
VII
Elves fared better on water than on land. Although Elven soldiers could force march rapidly and showed a fighting prowess unmatched by nearly every other race, they were not apt to drawn out marches over rough terrain for they did not take well to discomfort. Furthermore, their natural proficiency bred an arrogance that on the battlefield could prove their undoing.
On the seas however, residing in magnificent hulls that held no such prejudice, the elves became a force unmatched. From the glassy seas of Cathay to the turbulent coasts of the Dark Lands, Elven vessels cruised like imperious fortresses, obliterating any Captain folly enough to try and challenge their dominance. In fact amongst the Elven navy the thinking was that, as perhaps on land, only one battle was worth the fight. Against others of their kind.
Whilst the High Elves, or Asur, sailed aboard streamlined, white panelled cruisers heralded with the buttress of a glorious animal at the helm, their dark kin chose their navy differently. The Dark Elves, or Druchii, sped across the nighttime oceans aboard the backs of titanic beasts, strangled to their bidding by magic. Or else whole armies were transported inside Black Arks; Mountains of stone, wood, iron and sail that was once a forbidding tower in Nagarythe, now a magically floating fortress.
Such a vessel now carried a Dark Elf army on its way to Norsca. Kislevites were spreading North in search of vengeance against the Norse raiders that had pillaged its coastal towns. A mistrustful alliance existed between the Norse and the Druchii, an arrangement that had meant Dark Elf raiders sheltering in Norse ports between ruthless raids on the Old World. Equally, the far-travelled Norse intercepted merchant ships out of Ulthuan in the name of the Witch King. But if the Kislevites subdued the Norse the booty in slaves from the Empire and Brettonnia to the mines of Naggaroth would end. Such was the mission of Lord Harkan and his army, to obliterate the Kislevites invading Norsca.
Amongst his command however was a septic thorn in Harkan's side. Duke Kalen of Abiyss, mutated at birth from the unnatural sanction of Druchii and human and shunned by society, had nevertheless proved himself worthy of a place on the field of slaughter. What worried Harkan however was his close association to the Kainites. The Sisters of Khaine had favoured the half-elf fool as an omen of the ascension over the hated Cult of Shornaal (known as Slaanesh to some) of which Harkan was an avid benefactor. They had given him a purpose on this mission, he was sure, and the Dark Elf Lord would not rest till the freak had been extinguished.
An arrowhead the size of a horse's skull crashed through the walls of the Black Ark, sending splintered debris across the inner deck. Duke Kalen flinched as he was peppered with shards and hurried down the steps to the battery deck. A low ceiling ran the length of the chamber above stooped figures that toiled half naked in the fire-lit gloom. A line of crude torches lined the walls, their flames an eerie green that flickered off wood and stone. The only natural light came through the line of artillery scuttles, the cold morning sun highlighting the glint of the steel bolt-throwers. The tips of waves sent rivers of water over the scuttle openings and sloshed amidst the scurrying feet of elves and men. There were seven bolt throwers aligned from the deck, their points facing outward towards where the scavenging High Elf ships skimmed across the water. The raiders had come speedily and taken the Ark by surprise.
A Dark Elf Corsair was barking orders in the human tongue to the slaves that grappled with ropes and pulleys. With a loud snap of air, the incredible tension in the ropes of the Bolt-Thrower was released and the heavy bolt flew from view. Without care for its accuracy, the slaves immediately began manoeuvring another bolt suspended upon ropes into place.
Kalen called out to the corsair, who turned his head impatiently and made his way over the dirty backs of slaves towards him. The elf's hair was matted with sweat and clung to his pale face, 'Sir?' he almost snarled.
'Anything I can do?' Kalen asked.
The corsair didn't need time to consider, 'Regulate the firing on the far section, if you would, sir.' Kalen nodded but the Corsair had already turned his back and was shouting angry words of encouragement to the slaves. Kalen bent low between sweating bodies as he made his way through the firing deck. The smell of noxious smoke, tar and hemp filled his nostrils and already his eyes stung. Another bolt from the High Elf ships struck the side of the ark, making the reinforcing wales shake.
Kalen made it to a scuttle, looking out briefly at the white shape of a High Elf hull rising on the waters and then signalled to a gang of bleary-eyed slaves to coat the tip of the bolt in hot tar. He grabbed a torch from its perch and touched the wriggling flame to the sizzling broad head. It flared, the stench adding to the miasma amongst the battery crew and some slaves choked and staggered back. Kalen roughly kicked them aside, 'Loose!' he shouted.
With a crack the slip-hook was released and the ropes skimmed across the shallow pools of water lining the deck. The bolt seemed to fly like a diving falcon, its fiery head, blowing crazily in the wind. Kalen watched its path towards the High Elf vessel. For a moment it looked like the bolt would miss, but a fateful wave raised the ship into the flight path again. The main mast cracked on impact and the flames greedily devoured the white sails. Kalen grinned as the burning wreckage of the mast dropped flaming like flares on the sailors below.
The muffled cry of triumph from the battery deck was premature however. The rest of the flotilla of High Elf ships, using their sails and excellent seamanship to hold themselves steady in the winds, manoeuvred alongside the Ark. Several impacts could be heard all along the outer hull of the battery deck. Kalen looked out, seeing long silver chains connecting the Ark to the attackers ships. At first he thought the High Elves might be foolish enough to attempt to shimmy up them in order to board the Ark, but then as one the High Elves adjusted their rudders into the wind. Their main sails filled with wind and the tension on the chains suddenly tightened. Kalen realised with horror what was about to happen and backed off hurriedly.
The outer hull of the battery deck began to strain, groaning like a wounded beast and filling the cramped deck with ominous sounds. Then a cracking sound. The slaves began to mutter and make towards the ladders. Suddenly an entire section of the hull was ripped away, exposing the innards of the Ark to the sea winds. The roar from the wind sucked away Kalen's breath and his face was flicked with salt water making him blind for a moment. When he managed to blink away the sting, an Eagle ship was firing a bolt. Too late did he realise the bolt was crowned in fire.
The bolt sped through the open wound of the ship and against an inner wall, exploding flaming oil across elf and man alike. The oil clung to the skin, burning and crisping flesh. Kalen was forced back to the edge, clutching air to clean his lungs as the High Elves prepared to fire again. Looking out of the huge hole in the side of the Ark, Kalen saw a sea-drake hissing below him. It thrashed in the waters as the moorings it was tied to began to burn. More burning arrows rained down, driving the Beastmaster's back and the sea-drake broke loose, its massive skull splitting the hull of the Ark in its fury.
The impact threw Kalen forward and for a moment, only sea and smoke filled his vision as he fell from the ship. His arms flailing, he caught hold of a chain that had swung loose and held on, swinging in the winds. He looked back at the battery deck, hoping to swing himself across to it, but his movement only caught the sea-drakes eye below him. The creature reared up from the water, its yellowing jaws open and its salty maw stinking around him. Kalen lifted his knees up to his chest as the teeth of the beast snapped at air. But those huge yellow eyes focused on this tangling morsel above it and it reared again.
VIII
Hurriedly, Kalen began to climb upwards, away from the monster and towards the upper deck, his face whipped by winds and his body slapped by cold water. As the stinking jaws of the Helldrake snapped at him again, visions of the witch elf Hecate and Lord Harkan flashed into his mind. About his destiny, about this 'mission' he was being sent on and whether he was merely a sacrifice in the intrigue of the Druchii. Perhaps, he thought, it would be best if he died in the belly of the sea beast. Several corsairs watched his efforts with curiosity until the familiar figure of Kurl Vraneth barked at them and they began to help reel in the half-elf Duke.
Kalen was dragged aboard like a wounded fish, his arms aching and his body still recovering from the wine the night before. 'Welcome aboard, Kalen!' Vraneth grinned jovially, 'Bloody silly time to start swinging from the rigging!' Kalen watched Vraneth's lips move between the plates of his helmet but understood little. Two Corsairs bundled him roughly against a mast and took up their weapons again as Vraneth formed them into some kind of order.
A Black Ark was able to sustain massive amounts of damage and still stay afloat due in part to the Dark tendrils of magic that riddled its body. The ship was lower in the water and some of the decks had been flooded, drowning those trapped there, but the repairs would have to wait. A High Elf boarding party was about to attack. Duke Vraneth, his muscular frame clad in the sinuous armour of a Cold One commander had taken charge of a regiment of Corsairs and scattered Druchii warriors and prepared to repel the attack.
As the packed High Elf assault crafts skimmed towards them, Vraneth smiled at the thought of the upcoming bloodshed. 'Stand ready you dogs!' He shouted over the wind as the Corsairs growled, blades and axes at their sides. On the back of a huge wave, the assault crafts slammed into the side of the Ark, the Sea-Guards aboard climbing the hull with supreme agility. The Eagle ships continued to fire their volleys of bolts across the Arks decks until the Seaguard were near to the top.
The High Elf Seaguard were armed with short swords and gauntlets, the better for fighting in the close quarters of a ship's deck. In a practiced movement they swung themselves over the top of the deck rail. With a snarl of hatred the Corsairs were upon them, the tall figure of Vraneth leading them into the fray. Vraneth barged into the delicate figure of a High Elf, knocking him over board, whilst twisting to challenge the downward arc of a Seaguard blade.
Kalen watched the struggle for a few moments before realising he had lost his sword, possibly in the gullet of the sea drake he thought bitterly. A strange feeling was overcoming him as he watched a petulant High Elf slice through the belly of a Corsair. An emotion from deep within, a sense of hate for these raiders, an unnatural, burning hatred. He felt it combine with the natural aggression latent in the side of him that was human. He wanted to kill these High Elves. More than that, he wanted to destroy them. The Corsair dropped to the deck, the slim hand-axe slipping from his dead grasp and sliding across to Kalen's feet. He looked at the weapon and then up at the victorious High Elf who had noticed him. The Elf looked at him, momentarily thoughtful of Kalen's strange features and then snarled as he charged.
Kalen dropped to his knee quickly, grasping the axe and rising to meet the charge. The High Elf lashed out with his blade, but missed, chipping the wooden mast instead. With a swing fuelled entirely with odium, Kalen lopped off the limb holding the sword. The High Elf made a high pitched squeal like a culled pig before Kalen turned the axe blade around and fastened it deeply in the Seaguard's breast. He let the body fall with the weapon still buried in it and took the sword still gripped by the Elves' amputated arm.
The Seaguard were gaining ground due to their numbers. Some Druchii warriors had hurried to the far side of the forecastle, but hesitated firing into the fighting with their uraithen. Kalen saw Vraneth for a moment, forcing the neck of a High Elf across a deck rail until it snapped. Then another opponent challenged Kalen, a High Elf with deep green eyes and smooth skin, immature but determined. The Elf stabbed at the Half-Elf Duke but Kalen caught the blow easily and drove his sword up and underneath the young Elf's helmet. As his fist was soaked in blood he saw the emeralds in the Elvish eyes fade.
A torrid flow of anger and hate was blossoming inside Kalen, the familiar desire to kill or be killed. He cared not which. He moved amongst the clashing figures of Seaguard and Corsair, lashing out with deadly blows, occasionally dodging a blade long enough to drive home the red, soiled High Elf sword. He shouted out to these traitors of the Elven race to come and be killed, to compete their mithril armour against his Half-Elf flesh. The challenge was taken by a hugely tall High Elf in grandiose armour of silver and dragon scales. He levelled his sleek sword against Kalen's ruddy blade, teasing it with a few strikes. Kalen had no time for this game, and pushed the Elves sword angrily aside, stepping forward closer. The High Elf skilfully dodged Kalen's blow and slithered his own blade along Kalen's arm, sprouting a stream of blood. The Elf smirked at Kalen's pain and prepared to deliver the killing blow. He was surprised when Kalen's elbow connected with his face, cracking the bones of his elegant nose. A curling kick left the High Elf unbalanced and Kalen dragged his blade powerfully across the Elf's throat. The High Elf staggered backwards, his hand vainly trying to stop the torrent of pulsing blood from his torn neck. Kalen snarled and pulled the Elf back to him only to force his sword deep between the plates of the Elf's cuirass.
With their champion lost, the Sea-Guard began to back away from the slavering Corsair fury. As the last Seaguard leapt into the swirling waters rather than be skewered by a Corsair, there was a raging shout from the Druchii. Vraneth's blood-flecked face appeared in Kalen's vision as he slapped him hard on the back and pointed gleefully out to sea where the Helldrakes were pulling apart the frantic Seaguard before they drowned. Kalen tried to show the same enthusiasm but if he was honest with himself the feeling of hate that had overcome him when seeing the High Elves had shook him somewhat. He was used to the rage that fuelled creatures in battle; he even enjoyed it. It helped to disguise the dangerous risks he took to impress his true Druchii commanders or die in the attempt. But this feeling was different. Perhaps he was more Dark Elf than he realised?
He had no time to ponder however because a Corsair that had been jeering with his crewmates was pole axed as a long arrow ploughed through his shoulder and pinned him to the deck. They looked up to see five eagles swirling in and out of the tall masts, on the back of each of the huge winged creatures was the figure of a rider. Another arrow fell vertically, the unusual firing angle giving it the impetus to punch through a Corsairs Sea-Dragon cloak. The elves scattered, finding what cover they could. The warriors had found a target and fired their uraithen upwards but the eagles easily avoided them.
The Black Ark was on full alert, Dark Elves were racing to their stations, hurriedly trying to tie armour to their sleeves. Commanders shouted at them to repel borders as the High Elf ships continued to pound burning arrows into the Ark. Swivelling Sky Reapers were manned and salvos of bolts sliced through the sea air like bloodthirsty harpies.
From within the brutal looking command tower Admiral Thorn was relaying orders to the sorceress Sastriss. Or rather he was demanding that his orders be met. 'Move the damn ship! We're a sitting target for their fire bolts here, we need movement!' The Black Ark was afloat but the coils of dark magic seemed to be fully used up doing just that. Thorn dismissed the sorceress, telling her that if the hulk didn't clear at least ten leagues soon it wouldn't matter because they would all be dead.
Lord Harkan stood a small distance away looking down upon the besieged deck. He had seen Kalen and Vraneth repulse the Seaguard assault. He had hoped that the noisome duo would have been killed in the action but their fighting prowess had thwarted that vengeful wish. But Kalen's time would come, he must be patient. The cursed High Elves soared to and fro on their eagles, keeping the Corsairs and warriors cowering as another Seaguard assault made ready. His thoughts were distracted for a moment as Thorn threatened torture to his crew once again. Out of a grudging respect he had not interfered with the Admirals orders, the cold Northern waters were his battlefield, but it seemed fire must be met with fire. 'Admiral,' he said calmly. Thorn gave him an angry look but Harkan ignored it, 'with your blessing I would like to send Stromlath and his manticore against these flying pests.' Thorn grunted an acceptance and Harkan sent an aide to inform Duke Stromlath, Harkan's second-in-command. Harkan turned back to the fighting, watching idly as elf killed elf before requesting some wine from another aide.
It was just as another arrow shunted down into the deck that an unearthly roar was heard over the heads of the crouching Dark Elves. A shadow passed overhead and Kalen looked up to see the bulk of a manticore, fibrous wings outstretched and deadly paw-like talons slashing at the air. A cry went up from some of the Corsairs who had seen these fearsome beasts often in battle and knew their capacity for slaughter. The eagles veered away from the animal quickly and seemed to be in retreat. Duke Stromlath, nestled aboard the manticore's saddle, waved his sword in the air in a show of bravado that was not lost on the warriors below.
Vranath looked pleased but muttered to Kalen, 'All well and good, but the fool never gets his boots soaked in red.'
'Perhaps today he may have to.' Kalen replied squinting up to the sky. A flock of three eagles were rallying, their riders steeling themselves against the sight of the manticore and swooping back towards the Ark. Stromlath had not seen them and though the manticore growled at the sight, Stromlath seemed intent on making another victory pass between the masts of the ships. Before the eyes of his despairing comrades, the first arrow struck the Duke in the shoulder, causing him to jerk in the saddle. The manticore made efforts to narrow the distance between itself and the eagles, but they were able to evade its claws and another two arrows imbedded themselves in the wounded Stromlath. His body slid from the saddle and Kalen and Vraneth watched its fall until it splashed into the dark waters below.
Hearts sank around the ship, not for Stromlath who was seen as an irksome character by most of the crew but because now they were without protection from the arrows of the Eagle Riders who could pick them off at leisure. The manticore, perhaps confused as to the location of its rider, had landed and perched on the bow side cathead, roaring at the sky.
Vraneth shouted curses towards the circling eagles as he crouched beside Kalen, but it was as effective as the fire from the Sky-Reapers. The agile eagles evaded the salvos easily. Meanwhile the Asur were making ready to mount another assault.
'We need to get rid of those birds.' Kalen growled, looking towards where the manticore sat. He didn't hear Vraneth curse him for his obvious statement because he was running across the deck towards the monster. The manticore swivelled its massive head in his direction as he came close. Its scarlet eyes appraised this new interest, its jaws twitching. Steady, Kalen thought, summoning up bravery to take the next step towards it. The beast sensed fear and immediately began to growl.
Just as Kalen thought the beast was about to leap upon him and tear his body into pieces, an arrow from above scythed down into the deck taking a slice of his cloak with it. Fear combined with bravery and he ran towards the beast as its rider might have done, hoping that the manticore would recognise his panic as confidence. The manticore snapped at him, but the yellow teeth were aimed at air and perhaps the bite was bore out of confusion than anything else. Kalen barked an elvish word angrily at it. Finally the manticore seemed to relent to his feigned authority. He gripped the pommel mounted on the saddle, feeling the monster's coarse mane hair and swung himself onto the manticore's back.
The manticore began to buck and move unsurely along the deck and Kalen realised that if his assuredness with the beast waned just once he would be torn to shreds. He pushed the thoughts from his mind, shouted at the animal and pulled back on its mane as he had seen Stromlath do on occasions. In reward the long, leathery wings extended either side of him and the manticore crouched, readying itself for flight.
Kalen had to grip tightly as the manticore sprung forward and swooped downward towards the sea, gaining momentum for the upward lift. He had not the armoured boots that connected with the saddles stirrups, and though the saddle held his upper body in place, his legs began to drag behind him. He gritted his teeth, gripping onto the pommel and the hair of the beast in a frantic struggle to stay upright. There was no way he'd be able to fight with the High Elf sword that flapped against his side and as the Asur Eagle-riders closed to meet their new adversary, Kalen cursed his eagerness to risk all for the Druchii.
The manticore leaned into a dive and the air rushed into Kalen's lungs. He saw the Black Ark below, the Asur ships, the fires, the toiling water. And an eagle. From the corner of his eye he saw the High Elf ride his beast into an intercept. The eagle itself must have been brave to take on a manticore, but its rider knew that the elf that now clung to the manticore's back was no trained 'flyer'. Kalen struggled to free his blade from its sheath, as he caught sight of the High Elf smoothly drawing his.
The Elf closed in on Kalen; keeping the angle sharp enough to avoid the talons of the manticore and Kalen knew not how to turn the beast. He stood up in the saddle, the ferocious winds howling in his ears and drew his sword just as the elf swooped past aiming a blade for his head. He managed to block the blow, but the force of it tore the sword from his grip and with disdain he watched it disappear into the sea. The Eagle Rider turned for another pass.
Kalen spotted another eagle below him and to his right. This rider was concentrating on firing arrows down onto the deck of the Ark. Kalen leant sharply, pulling the pommel with him and the manticore seemed to understand and sunk into a sharp dive. The other eagle gave chase. The manticore sped towards the archer letting out a terrifying howl. Kalen saw the High elf archer look up in surprise. The large body of the manticore snapped at the eagle as it passed it, the long wings of the eagle flapping madly as it tried to get out of the way. Kalen raised the head of the manticore as it gathered speed, and soared up and between the tall masts of the ark.
As the manticore weaved its own way through the rigging and sails, Kalen looked over his shoulder. His impulsive plan seemed to have worked. One Eagle Rider was tailing him through the sails of the Ark, whilst the other was stalking more slowly on the starboard side. As the manticore hurtled around an armoured tower, the eagle behind Kalen climbed to avoid the series of Druchii Sky-Reaper batteries and it meant he was hidden from view for a moment. He used the time to lean to his left, and the manticore angled its wings to turn. When it reappeared, the eagle was moving too fast and it whizzed by Kalen as the manticore moved out over the sea and back towards the other Eagle Rider.
Kalen thought fast. He forced his beast to ascend up and to the right of the Eagle Rider who was even now stretching his bowstring back for a shot. Kalen knew his other pursuant was somewhere behind and up to his right but he couldn't afford to look back to check. The manticore was slowing from its exertions, making him an easier target. In front and to his left, the High Elf took aim with his bow. He heard a screech from behind him as the other eagle closed in. The High Elf archer released his arrow.
It seemed to happen fast in the confusing swirl of winds and sea-spray. Kalen knew only that he had to lie flat at the right moment. The arrow that was aimed at his chest would fly over him and there was a chance…
Crouched tightly against the manticores' back, Kalen spat out some of the mane he had got caught between his lips. He still grinned though. An Eagle was someway back behind him, on its back an elf with an arrow protruding from his neck. He looked up to see that confusion had overcome the other rider. Obviously killing one of his own had shocked his delicate High Elf sensibilities, thought Kalen bitterly. That confusion would mean his death however. The High Elf saw the opening jaws of the manticore too late. The eagle zoomed into Kalens' vision too fast, and with a thump and crunch the manticore had caught hold of the eagle in its fangs. Its paws came up, raking down the side of the bird and tearing off the High Elf's leg as it did so. The elf screamed and toppled into the surf on a rope of blood. Kalen lost his own balance as like a dog with a bone, the manticore began shaking the life from the eagle.
It wasn't a long fall, but the coldness of the sea still pinned his heart like the arrow he had narrowly avoided. Swimming to the surface, he caught sight of a bloodied eagle's wing, as big as an elf, tumbling from the sky. The rest of the Eagle Riders were breaking into retreat, a sorceress had been spared by Thorn and her voluminous blasts were dissuading the Asur from another attack. Cries caught Kalen's ears and he looked up to the deck of the Ark where some Corsairs were cheering him, some even recalling his name. Vraneth was there too, grinning like a dragon. Treading water a little way out, Kalen grinned back.
Admiral Thorn leaned back, a look of relief on his face as he watched the accursed High Elves in retreat. It had been a close one. With the Ark sitting in the water the Asur raiders could have launched attacks at them all day. Luckily the troops had bought him enough time to repair the initial damages. And one trooper in particular had stood out. Thorn went to the bridgehead rail where Lord Harkan looked out over the deck. Below them, Duke Kalen was being hauled aboard to the accompaniment of much cheering. Thorn smiled to himself; a charismatic leader was important to soldiers, someone who would risk something extra could lead soldiers almost anywhere. Even though he was some kind of genetic misfit, this Kalen fellow fitted the bill, and the troops would see past that as long as he continued to impress them as such.
'With Stromlath dead, you'll be needing a new second in command, Lord Harkan. Perhaps our young freak has won your confidence?' Thorn sneered at the impassive profile of the army's general. It was a chance to goad Harkan which Thorn was loath to pass up, but he got no reply. Thorn shrugged and returned inside the command tower.
Lord Harkan watched Kalen in silence. This mutant half-elf was clever. Not cleverer than a true Elf, but still clever… He would enjoy the challenge. But he would enjoy watching Kalen die even more.
The Ark sailed onwards into the cold waters, towards ice, and Norsca.
Louis Verlaine