KALEN

XIII

'Does it understand?' Dark elf Duke Kurl Vraneth asked the Beastmaster who secured the leather bag to the leg of the Harpy. They were standing on the frozen dock of the Norscan town. A cold blast of wind stung their faces as they looked out to the Black Ark, itself frozen solid in the ice.

'I don't understand, your grace?' The Beastmaster asked him.

'Well, if you don't understand how in the name of Khaine's testes is that blasted thing going to?' Vraneth snarled.

'No, I meant-' The beastmaster attempted to placate his commander.

'Just send the stupid beast on its way, damn you!' Vraneth grumbled. The harpy, its grey leathery wings spanning out from a rough-skinned feminine body, shuffled around on the ground as if anxious to be away from its elven masters. It would seek out a dark elf ship in the Sea of Claws or, failing that, their message of help would sink beneath the turbulent waters along with the frozen beast. Vraneth watched until the harpy was a black dot flying out between the main masts of the Black Ark and then turned back to the town.

As Vraneth trod through the thin snow, he walked through a town that feared its extinction was near. This was a besieged town. Only the besiegers hadn't turned up yet. But their very threat made man and elf alike fear that their lives would end in this barren and desolate place next to a frozen ocean. And with the Ark now gripped tightly by the ice, their chance of escape was hopeless. Even if the harpy's message reached Druchii hands, it would take many days and by then there was a good chance they could be overrun. Lord Harkan had led the Druchii army here with the opinion that the Kislevite invaders could be shrugged aside as they attempted to exterminate the Norse raiders. The Kislevites had other ideas. Not only had the dark elves been bested on the field, the terrain was wholly unsuitable to the Norscan's allies. After several bloody noses, the dark elves had ignominiously barricaded themselves behind the walls of the very people they had come to help.

To the proud nature of an elf, the situation was unbearable; as Vraneth crossed the few streets of the town in full armour he would be more than glad to spill the blood of those impertinent humans. But he knew such thoughts, however pleasing they might be, were fruitless. The Kislevites seemed at home in this country and any of the garrison that left the town's hastily assembled walls were ambushed and brutally slaughtered. So there was nothing left but to wait for the invaders to come.

'Duke Vraneth, a word if I may, sir.' A Dark elf Lordling called to him as he crossed to the Norse Chieftain's hall.

'What is it?' Vraneth spat, noticing a scruffy Norse walking behind the Lieutenant. Although the idea of a smart Norscan was laughable, Vraneth thought.

'This human says a Cold One of ours ate one of his sheep.' The Norscan behind the Lieutenant raised his chin, though he understood none of the words spoken.

Vraneth stared at him, then back to the Lieutenant, 'So? Its probably the first damn thing those lizards have killed since they got to this stinking place!' The icy temperatures had had the effect of dulling the senses of the reptile steeds and they were proving nearly impossible to rouse.

'Well, quite, sir.' The Lieutenant coughed, 'But you see he would like some compensation.'

Vraneth sighed, 'It's perfectly simple Lieutenant. Take this good fellow round the back of a building, stick a blade in his guts, sell off his stock to his nearest rival and keep whatever you get for them.'

Vraneth gave the Norscan a smile. The farmer smiled back, interpreting the grin as a sign things were going well. The Lieutenant was not smiling, 'Erm…very good, sir.' He turned back to the farmer, 'Come this way?' They moved off, the farmer giving Vraneth a quick bow of appreciation.

'Bloody farmers.' Vraneth grumbled, mounting the steps into the Chieftains hall.

Inside it was warm, but the wet straw of the ceiling made the air damp and Vraneth wrinkled his nose as he removed his helmet. Two Norscan Hurscarls stood rigidly with their round shields and axes to their bodies and Vraneth passed them without a glance. He barged open the door to a room, meeting the eyes of the witch elf Hecate to whom he grunted some kind of greeting. A Lieutenant was in the room too. And so was Duke Kalen, or at least his body was, lying still on a mattress of straw and goatskin.

Kalen was in another place. His mind drifted back over the oceans of ice and water back to the Land of Chill. It drifted back over years too, until it arrived near the lakes of Abyiss several decades past. Kalen smelt the cool dewy air of his birthplace. He felt the clinging mud near the edge of the water. He saw the ghostly mist wading across the sharp rocks. He was so much younger. He was a child. That thought made him scared. For childhood brought memories of terror.

He ran from the lake, his naked feet clambering over the hard stone of the bank. His eyes jerking from side to side, seeing his killers in the mist. The sound of hooves clattering over hard ground filled the his world. Quickly he hid behind some rocks. His half-elf heart beat irregularly, almost as if his genes were finding difficulty in getting used to the freakish nature of his body.

And then he caught sight of the Dark riders. Mounted on black steeds and swathed in cloaks the colour of a stormy sky. He couldn't see their faces beneath their hoods, only the sharp points of their murderous spears. His limbs felt so frail as they gripped the rock face tightly hoping not to be seen by these killers his own father had sent after him. They didn't see him. They carried on, searching down near the lake, their horses snorting as if sniffing for his scent.

Kalen moved carefully up the rock face until he was at its summit. The wind blew at his greasy hair, blowing the scent of the Black forest against his skin. He looked out over the Lakes of Abyiss. His father's realm. And should he live, one day his own. In the distance, he could make out the spires of Hag Graef; dark bony structures reaching out from its valleys like a monster ascending from the underworld. His young mind could not fathom this world he had been born into. His first thoughts had been fear and he had little of any other kind since. Even so, something deep inside him was determined to make this land his home. He hated it nearly as much as it hated him, but that only made him more determined.

He heard a sound behind him. A pebble, dislodged. By the time he turned the Bloodshade was already lunging with the dagger. Those same merciless eyes, the pale, aquiline face, the alien ear lobes. Dark Elf. He hardly felt the blade, only the feeling of falling backwards. The world turned flat as the sky ran away from him. Falling farther, wind against his neck. And then the cold embrace of water, sinking into the depths of the lake. He watched as his blood drifted to the surface in an inky cloud of red. He felt his body descend deeper into the murky gloom. It was relaxing. He would welcome this world. So much more peaceful than the one above the surface. But in order to stay he would have to relinquish life. A part of him wanted to, but it was a small part. His heart craved life and his mind would not allow him to be so easily extinguished from it. He must fight. This was the world he was born into and in order to stay alive he must fight. Strength came to his arms and, ignoring the pain, he swam desperately to the surface…

Kalen opened his eyes and mouth at the same time, taking in a breath as if it was his first. His vision moved from the ceiling of the room down to three figures that stood watching him. In the morning light, their names came back: Hecate, Ambran, Vraneth. He swilled the names around his head as if welcoming back once familiar tastes. Ambran asked how he was. Vraneth grinned; telling him there was work to do. Hecate simply pouted, but there was relief there too. Kalen was alive. Once again this world had tried to kill him and it had failed. He smiled back at the three elves.

XIV

'They'll come again today.' Lieutenant Ambran told Kalen as they stood against the makeshift battlements surrounding the town. 'It has been the same for four days now, always small cavalry detachments keeping us on our toes. They won't let us rest, sir.' Ambran spoke heavily. Nearby some warriors were bolstering the walls with wood, stone and other junk scavenged from the town. Kalen recognised Avaris and Rath there, the two soldiers he had freed from execution. According to Ambran the pair had returned the favour by dragging Kalen's wounded body and their regimental standard from the battlefield. Avaris raised a salute and went on working.

'What's our numbers?' Kalen asked Ambran, turning his back on the desolate landscape outside to the town itself. A few of the crumbling buildings had smoke rising from their chimneys and the paths between them were trodden down with dirt. In the background the Black Ark rose on the skyline, pinned to this place by ice.

Ambran sighed, 'After the battle at the bridge we had to fall back to the main column. They followed us there, but we didn't expect them to manoeuvre inland. We lost two whole regiments. If Lord Harkan hadn't left most of the artillery inside the town we might have lost them too.'

Kalen snorted but said nothing. They also might have helped, he thought instead.

'It has been mainly skirmishes since. But every time they seem to outwit us and our numbers grow smaller. Herald Firlaith thinks there is a spy in the town and has started executing Norscans.' Ambran said apparently without feeling.

Kalen sighed, shaking his head, 'Firlaith seems determined to make this campaign a war on two fronts then.'

'Most of the Norscans are still with us, I think.' Ambran said in consolation. 'Where is Firlaith?'

'He should be at the gate on the north side, briefing this morning's reconnaissance squadron, sir.' Ambran said formally, knowing the confrontation Kalen wished and wanting to distance himself from it. Kalen made to climb from the wall, wincing in pain as he did so. 'Maybe you should rest-' Ambran said but a fierce look from Kalen silenced him.

Kalen found Firlaith where Ambran said he would be. He was standing on some sort of lectern reading out orders to a dirty looking group of Dark Riders. Firlaith saw Kalen from the side of his eye and immediately stopped speaking. His mouth opened again once Kalen had stepped up onto the podium and then made a choking sound as Kalen grabbed him by the throat.

'Why didn't you support us?' Kalen snarled, 'Let me hear the words from your slimy lips before I put my fist between them!'

'I must protest!' Firlaith managed, his eyes twitching to the group of cavalry.

Kalen twisted him around, forcing him over the lectern and pressing his neck against it forcefully. 'My soldiers died because your riders ran away, Firlaith! Why?' he spat.

'I am second in command of this outpost and I order you-' Firlaith gurgled. Kalen heard the oiled spring lock on uraithen and looked up to see that though the rest of the Dark riders were watching in surprise, two had cocked their crossbows. Kalen looked down again at his commander, it would only take a moment to crush his windpipe he thought with delight. But that would mean his mission for the Temple would be at an end, and he was warming to the task of murdering Lord Harkan.

Kalen relaxed his grip and backed away. Firlaith spluttered, rubbing his throat, 'Lord Harkan will hear of this Duke and I'll have your head!' Redness blossomed on his scrawny cheeks.

'Very well. You do just that. But you haven't many officers left and when the humans come to wipe out you're so called 'outpost', they'll have your head too.' Kalen said quietly. 'So you better hurry.' Kalen stepped back beckoning Firlaith to run to Harkan's lodgings. To his surprise Firlaith did just that, glancing back to give him a malicious glare.

Kalen watched him go. This was going to be a risk. He looked at the Riders who watched him silently.

Great coats of bearskin had been placed over the windows, so that the only light came from the dying remnants of the hearth. Lord Harkan sat pondering in a heavy wooden chair, his armour laid at his side. He looked worried, but it had nothing to do with the imminent siege by the Kislevites. Harkan had his mind on more otherworldly matters. He watched the sorceress Sastriss etch a circle into the mud floor of the hut. 'Are we far north enough for this to work?' He asked gruffly. He had planned to do this further north of the Norscan town, but the resilience of the Kislevites had meant that he would have to carry it out here. It also meant that time was of the essence.

Sastriss reared up her pale and sinewy body, 'The ear of Shornaal hears all, my Lord.' She smiled, licking her lips.

'Quite.' Harkan grunted. He watched as Sastriss began chanting archaic wards to protect them. Her dark hair and supple shoulders glowed in the firelight and Harkan's dark desires began to stir as he thought about ripping into that flesh.

Suddenly, light poured into the room as Firlaith came hurrying in from outside, 'My Lord-'

'Close the door, damn you!' Harkan bellowed.

Firlaith looked at the baneful stares of both Lord and sorceress, before closing the door, wondering if he should really be on the other side. He walked quietly over to Harkan whilst the sorceress continued. 'My Lord, if I may?'

'Yes, Firlaith, what is it?' sighed Harkan.

'Its Duke Kalen, my Lord-'

'He's alive? I thought that worm died at the bridge?'

'Er, no. It seems he wasn't as badly wounded as we had hoped.' Firlaith explained in whispered tones, 'Anyway, I recommend we execute him as soon as possible.'

'For what reason; officially?'

'For insubordination!' Firlaith hissed. 'He has just had the audacity to-'

'Bring in the girl.' Harkan commanded, ignoring Firlaith. An inner door opened and a warrior pushed forward a young Norse girl. Harkan stood, casting an admiring eye over the female's bony frame that had been covered in strange markings. 'You are honoured young human. Step into the circle and allow us to please you.'

The girl was pushed into the circle Sastriss had scratched. The sorceress began chanting once more, only now with more intensity and pouring a small vial of liquid around the perimeter of the circle.

Harkan watched in anticipation. Firlaith shrank back behind Harkan's chair, his complaint forgotten as he watched. Gently at first, small wisps, like purple tendrils appeared around the girls shaking legs. She watched them in frightened fascination as they curled around her, slowly rising up to her thighs. Sastriss kept up her constant chanting as if seducing the bizarre mist up from the ground. The smoky fingers reached the girls face, lightly brushing her cheek. As Harkan licked his lips, the girl appeared to panic. She stepped forward to cross the circle. An unseen force dragged her back and she screamed amidst the flurry of smoke. It resembeled a vibrant tornado turning a darker purple, then a lighter pink before descending into blood red.

The girl had stopped screaming. Beneath the sheath of colour Harkan saw the girls limbs were already cracking into a different shape. Her breasts becoming paler almost white and more pronounced. Luscious bloated veins circled her neck and into the skull as the hair was shed, becoming more cone like. What was once a girl's body twisted as bones were extended and flesh stretched.

Harkan smiled, this would do nicely. The eyes of the daemonette flashed open.

XV

The night came unnaturally early to the northern lands and the snow of Norsca was soon shadowed by a night that could bring death to the small garrison of the town. Although there had been few sightings of Kislevites during the daylight hours, it gave the elves no hope, for the night was the time when these crafty humans would attack.

The morale of the troops had not been aided by the reclusion of their general, Lord Harkan. It was said he had retired to the marooned Black Ark and Harkan's bodyguard had kept away interested parties. Herald Firlaith was similarly absent and whilst his Dark riders lazed around, murmurings began that the two officers had fled.

As the fitful night drew to an end and dawn approached, elves were demanding explanations of Duke Kalen. Most of them begrudged having to defer to a half-elf officer and thus their enquires were less than mild. Kalen ordered them back to their posts but he could feel a simmering resentment that could boil over into mutiny at any point. Kalen walked back inside his own hut.

'Should have let my knights loose on them.' Vraneth said, idly picking at a plate of vegetables that served as breakfast, 'That would have settled their impudence sharpish!'

Kalen ignored the armoured Duke and instead motioned to the warrior Avaris, 'Avaris, send word to Hecate that I wish to see her.'

Avaris eyes twitched, 'The Witch elf, Hecate, sir?'

'Do you know another?' Kalen spat.

'No sir, yes sir, erm, may I take Rath with me for erm…'

Kalen looked at the other warrior who as usual stood silent and expressionless, 'For protection?'

'Well…' Avaris again looked uncomfortable.

'Good plan. Do it.' Kalen ordered and the two reluctant warriors left leaving Kalen and Vraneth alone in the glow of the hearth.

'Harkan hasn't run.' Vraneth said once the warriors had left, 'He might be cowering in the depths of the Ark but the bastard wouldn't have left.'

Kalen sat down heavily on a chair opposite, from the window the blue light granted by the moments just before dawn seeped through the frosted glass. 'I agree. He's got too much interest here.'

'Really?' Vraneth reached for a gourd of wine, averting himself from Kalen's eyes.

Kalen wondered whether he could trust his old friend. As much as the next perfidious Druchii, he reasoned. The Witch King prided himself on the treacherous intrigue he and his mother Morathi could generate in their nobles and officers. But this place was far from the secure archways and spires of Naggarond and any elf that stood alone would perish. 'Harkan wants to start a civil war.'

Vraneth laughed, dribbling ruby droplets of wine that sizzled on the hearth tiles, 'That's absurd! He's a sack of harpy-dung but a usurper he is not. And why would he come all the way out to this wretched place?'

'He may have supporters, powerful supporters that are taking care of things back in Naggaroth.' Said Kalen. 'We're isolated out here, near to the Chaos lands, he might more easily find allies.'

Vraneth was suddenly serious, 'Look, you may be a bloody good fighter and there may even be the rudiments of elf nobility in that freak skull of yours, but you aren't the conspirator type. We are soldiers, we fight, we kill, we die. That's it. Stay out of this.'

Kalen suddenly realised why Vraneth had constantly been overlooked with regards to command. He was quite possibly the last honourable Dark elf. He fought and killed his king's enemies and looked no further than that. His reluctance to betray his betters meant that as a consequence he was the least favoured noble. With the possible exception of Duke Kalen himself. 'I must stop him. Kill him. Will you help?'

Vraneth stared wide-eyed, 'Kill Lord Harkan? This cold must have frozen your brain!'

'I promise you it must be done. The threat is very real.'

The door scraped open and Kalen looked up expectantly only to see Avaris standing alone. 'Sir, the lady Hecate is not in her lodgings. One of the maibd told me that she was sent for by Lord Harkan just after sunset and has not returned.'

Kalen looked to Vraneth immediately, 'Kurl, I need you. Will you follow?'

Vraneth chewed his lip before throwing his wine into the fire, 'Why not?' He sighed, 'If the humans won't come to my lance then chaos droppings are always willing to sacrifice themselves!'

They left, leaving the wine sizzling on the hearth like boiling blood.

Out over the frozen docks, small bonfires illuminated the base of the Ark. Kalen, Vraneth and Avaris stared from the quay, momentarily wondering how this treachery would play out. For a moment Kalen feared Harkan had had word of their intent as soldiers began to cross the ice from the Arks hull.

The shadows of corsairs came running over the thick ice towards the town. At their head he recognised Crassfile, Admiral Thorn's officer whom he had met briefly on the voyage here. The dark-skinned elf raised a hand and the scar across his lips warped the grin he granted Kalen. 'Lord Harkan has had word that the humans are here to be sliced on our blades!' Crassfile called to them. The corsairs, clad in their shimmering dragon cloaks marched into the town.

'This business with Harkan must wait,' Vraneth said to Kalen, 'I need to be blooded.'

'We finish this afterwards then.' Kalen spat as Vraneth hurried away.

'It's true sir, look.' Avaris pointed to the hills that could be seen around the town. In the grim dawn light, the humans had appeared en masse. The Kislevites were chanting across the landscape, their beasts howling and the air seemed filled with a portent of doom for the garrison. Infantry, cavalry, beasts, artillery and perhaps even magic were massed against them.

Kalen looked back to the Ark, ominous by its silence. Vraneth was right, this had to wait. His first priority was as a soldier and he had enemies of the Witch King to kill. But still, Kalen felt a shadow across his heart when he thought about Harkan's motives, something was wrong and Hecate seemed to be involved in some way.

Retracing his steps back through the town, Kalen noticed several Norse women hurrying their children inside their buildings and closing the doors in the vain hope it would be enough against the Kislevites. He doubted it. If the defenders failed, the town and its people would be forfeit. For the first time, Kalen felt a purpose for being here. Perhaps it was his weak-hearted human side, but it filled him with a determination to see off this enemy.

As he reached the North gate he saw Witch elves begin to work themselves up into frenzy. Other Druchii sensibly kept away from them, though some Norse warriors were gaping at the semi-nude warrior women as they twitched with the destructive potions in their bodies. Crassfile was already barking out his orders to the murderous corsairs, a few of them taking practice swings of their short axes. Crates of uraithen bolts were being hauled by shivering slaves, positioned behind the ranks of warriors that lined the short walls.

'Your armour, sir.' Avaris announced as he and Rath brought up the gleaming metallic. Kalen looked at it, he knew the siege would be short and bloody and he felt the rising tide of slaughter that Khaine saw fit to grant even a freak such as he, blossom in his chest.

Horns brayed, Cold Ones growled and Dark elves cheered, for the enemy was here and they would bring him hell.