Daughters and Sons of the Horned Rat,
I apologize for the delay, but I had some minor health problems. Nothing serious, I am cured by now, but it prevented me from thinking for a few days.
I am also pleased to announce that I have been definitively accepted into the French public service. I hope I can be transferred to a library, and have a job in which I will flourish more than the current one. But at least, my professional future is stabilized.
Finally, I noticed that almost no one commented for nearly ten months I started to publish this fanfiction. I beg you, do not hesitate to express yourself, it is very important for me to have positive or negative feedback, provided that they are issued for a constructive purpose. I hope it's not because the general tone displeases you. I promise you that the action will FINALLY come.
Thank you for your attention, and Glory to the Horned Rat!
- Here we are, boys!
The dozen horsemen stopped. Walter Klingmann pointed to a small fort built on a hill at the entrance of the village.
- These are Klapperschlänge's barracks.
The barracks was a small, dark and austere building, designed with the minimum of frills. The region, in reality, was the least wealthy of the Rat Kingdom, and every silver shilling was precious. It had despite all its share of adopted Skaven, the Prince had decided not to refuse the voluntary peasants to enlarge their family if they had the means to subsist, as modest as were these means.
Is it reasonable? Kit thought, who had never fully approved it. As the Prince's grandson, he had never known anything but opulence at home. His field experience had accustomed him to the barracks' austerity, frugal meals, and nights in tents. But leaving poor people in charge of a Skaven seemed a mistake for him. Whenever he thought about it, his over-perfectionist side whispered to him that the Freed Skaven were too precious to be entrusted to people who couldn't make ends meet.
He shook his head, wanting to drive those parasitic ideas out of his mind. Other more concrete and far more serious problems threatened peace on his kingdom. He turned to the men, and felt his whiskers quiver when he saw one of them with a vague look.
- Hey, Pol? You have a problem?
Pol Demmler started. He was a very good friend of Walter, even more. One of these two could rarely be seen without the other one. He was a man with dark grey hair and big, clear eyes. Adopted by the couple owner of one of the most prosperous hostels in Steinerburg, he had taken advantage of it. Probably too much, because he was very corpulent, so much so that it could be disabling. The influence of his parents and the small number of Skaven soldiers had no doubt contributed more to his acceptance in the army than his abilities as a man of action. In any case, without daring to say it aloud, Kristofferson was convinced of it.
- Uh! 'Scuse, Kit, but I was thinking about something.
- You did? And so?
- You said "boys".
- Yes, and…?
- Well, that proves that we are only men.
- Right. And what? Speak.
After a short hesitation, Pol burst out:
- There are not enough chicks in this army! Girls, girls!
Some men sneered. Kristofferson, on the other hand, had a frustrated grimace.
- Pol, you know it's not possible! In any case, not yet!
- Oh, I was joking! replied the fat dark Skaven. Relax!
- He's right, Kit, Walter said. You always take everything seriously!
Kit turned to his best friend.
- You've been harvesting with me, Wally. You know how girls are treated by the Feral Skaven. Unlike you, I have a huge chance: I have two sisters and a mother tied with me by the blood. Thinking of what they could become between their paws makes me sick.
Then he returned to Pol.
- That's why I expect people I work with to behave like real citizens, and not like those crazy fools who see women as mere balls-emptiers. And I take this opportunity to remind you how our girls are still rare, and therefore they are much too valuable! In a generation, if we see that there are as many boys as girls, those who want to join the army will do so – and I'm pretty sure they're just as capable as the guys. But for now, we cannot take the risk to let our race die by lack of girls!
Walter patted Pol's shoulder.
- Your problem is not the lack of women in the army, buddy. It's because you don't have one yet!
Once again, the members of the company sneered.
- Pol is a big frustrated!
- His tail is on fire!
Pol, ashamed, lowered his head. Walter did not want to leave him in this mood.
- Now that we have come back for good, you can work on it.
- Hum... Women like soldiers, don't they? the other replied with a moist look of hope.
Finally, Kristofferson's face illuminated with a smile.
- A handsome guy like you, well prepared… they will jostle at your door.
The laughter flared up again, but became less mocking. Walter threw to the elder Steiner:
- So, you see, when you want, you still know how to laugh!
- Enough with the jokes, Wally. We have to go; Captain Müller is waiting for us.
And the little company went back to the building.
Rudy Müller was a tall, skinny, emaciated man with a grizzled moustache and a well-trimmed beard. Former captain in the army of the Empire, he had kept his old uniform and his pectoral, never forgetting to maintain them well. His rapier and his harquebus were like him: imperial, worn, but still ready to serve. He greeted Kristofferson and his militia at attention in the middle of the dusty yard.
- Captain Müller, at your service! It is an honour.
- Dismiss, captain, I do not have the authority of a commander, I am just the representative of the Prince.
- That makes you a high authority, my liege!
- You still remain the captain of Klapperschlänge.
The Skaven dismounted. When Kit found himself in front of the captain, he noticed that the Human was taller than he was.
- So, Captain, tell me what's the problem?
- A monstrous creature put us through Hell, my liege.
The brown Skaven looked at the Human from head to toe.
- I do not understand. My second, Master Klingmann here, told me that you had sent him a missive, and in this missive, you explained that you didn't know what to do?
- This is unfortunately the whole truth, my lord.
- Yet you seem to me to be a fellow who has lived more years in the army than all the other soldiers in this barracks! I heard you were a "newly appointed to this position", but you have everything from the veteran!
Müller took his inspiration, and took a few moments to think before daring to explain:
- It bothers me to contradict you, but in fact, I've always been in positions... away from any trouble. In the heart of the Empire, no big military campaign to my credit... I can even tell you that during the Chaos Storm, I was already too old, I was asked to stay in my barracks. And then, the doctor advised me a better climate. So, I went to get a better life in the Renegade Crowns, and six months ago I was asked to replace Captain Falsch.
- I see... What happened to Captain Falsch?
- He fell from the top of a ladder, my liege.
- Ah... Bad luck, indeed.
The tall man looked at the young brown Skaven in his eyes:
- My liege, I am nothing but an old moron. But the citizens of Klapperschlänge trust me, I want to be worthy of it.
Kristofferson looked a little more at the captain. He seemed to be someone who took his duties very seriously. Perhaps he was no longer good at anything, but he seemed at least capable of applying himself to do things as rightly as he could.
- Did you send a report to the commander of Fort Wüstengrenze?
- I did, my liege. But the commander didn't take me seriously. I even went to see him in person, he laughed in my face.
- What did he tell you, exactly?
The captain spat with disgust.
- I told him: "We are on the border of Vereinbarung, and the danger may come from there". But he said: "In that direction, there is only sand, dust and sun. Nobody would be crazy enough to cross the desert and go back to here. Your Mutant is bandits". And, of course, I came home without the slightest support.
- If we succeed in proving to this commander that you were right, I'll remind him of what trust in his fellow soldiers is. Well, can you take us to the burgomaster?
- At once, my liege!
Müller hastened to ride an old tired horse. The members of the company followed him.
Klapperschlänge corresponded to the idea that could be had of the small village in the countryside: a dozen maisonettes were gathered around the unique well. One of the houses, the only one with an additional floor, was that of the burgomaster, Reiner Kästner. Kästner was a good man, rather strong, used to working in the fields. He welcomed the little company with relief.
- It's a real pleasure to finally see the representatives of the Prince authority come here to help the people! exclaimed the Human.
- When the Prince's subjects have problems, the Prince's duty is to help them solve these problems, Kristofferson replied. So, it seems that you have nasty beasts?
- I am sure, completely certain, that they are wild animals that attack our cattle!
- Do you have an idea what kind of animals are we dealing with?
- At first, I thought about wolves, but the third night we heard screams. And those shouts were not those of a wolf. Neither a bear. Nothing of this kind. Usually, when the weather is nice, we leave the animals outside at night, but we finally decided to gather them all in the barn. Last night it was a nightmare. "It" was very angry. We have an ox who was scared to death.
- You did not have the courage to check what it was? Walter asked.
The burgomaster didn't dare answer. Kristofferson wanted to reassure him.
- You did what needed to be done. Now we are here. And we'll get rid of this thing.
- Can you show us the barn? Müller asked.
Kästner took the group to the big building on the outskirts of the village. The company went around, and the Skaven recognized the whole damage. The roof had been lacerated by something that probably had big claws. Several logs that made up the walls were completely exploded, as under blows of clubs. Splinters of wood, some as long as an arm, were scattered around. Kit whistled, impressed.
- How much time this situation has lasted?
- About three weeks. At first, it was just a cow that disappeared every three days, but now... it looks like this... "it" is getting bolder. Two days ago, old Egbert disappeared, too.
- Are you sure he didn't simply leave the village?
- He would never have left without taking his stuff, nor without warning me.
- Good. It is time to unveil this mystery. We will stay there until this creature shows up.
The men of the company did not seem reassured. Fritz Hafner, in particular, was sweating profusely.
- Uh... Kit?
- Yeah?
- Are you sure we need to stay there? We saw that it was dangerous, so leave now, we can prevent reinforcements.
This attitude greatly displeased the brown Skaven.
- We are reinforcements, Fritz. These people are counting on our help. Something terrorizes the villagers around and attack them and their cattle, and I want to know what it is.
Big Pol scratched his head, and thought aloud:
- But if it is big and strong enough to carry a man, how does this beast do not leave traces? The field is intact!
Kristofferson looked up, and narrowed his eyes.
- It moves through the air. This thing can fly. It's even the first thing Walter suggested me when he told me about this story.
- I'm sure it's a winged Mutant, Kästner agreed. The night when it vented on the barn, I thought I heard a flutter of wings. Like a bat, or a huge bird!
Steiner's son rubbed his chin.
- Have you locked up all your animals in the barn?
- Yes, my liege.
- So, this monster cannot feed anymore. That's why it's mad. It must have made a habit of picking up in your cattle, and since it cannot take it off, it's getting angry.
- Maybe it'll try to feed itself somewhere else? Kästner hoped.
- I'd rather not, because that would only move the problem. No, we have to bring it here. We shall bait it.
The burgomaster shivered at the idea of leaving one of his villagers at the mercy of the beast.
- Oh no! Don't ask me that, my liege! All my villagers are good people!
- Calm down, Master Kästner. Nobody is going to bait. You said an ox died with fear?
- Yes, as if it had been struck by lightning!
- So, we have our bait. Its meat didn't have time to rot too much. You'll cut it in pieces and leave the carcass in the middle of a field away from the houses. If this beast is still hungry, it will come.
Kästner had tears in his eyes.
- Are you sure that my fellow citizens will remain safe?
The villagers, attracted by curiosity, surrounded the company. The looks were sometimes questioning, sometimes anxious, sometimes clearly frightened. Kristofferson wanted to reassure them.
- Listen, brave citizens: there is no way that any one of you takes the slightest risk. You will all stay home and barricade your doors and windows. We will remain hidden in the field to surprise the beast and to defeat it ourselves. I will send a messenger to the Wüstengrenze fort, too. If they receive a letter written and signed by me, they will intervene.
He turned to Kästner.
- Where did you put the dead ox?
- It was put in a corner of the barn, under rags and straw, because of the smell.
- The smell must be incredible, indeed! Walter grumbled.
- Well, that was this way, or take the risk of being attacked again, sir! We are not warriors!
- Watch your language, answered the spotted Skaven. We're here for you!
- We are, and that's why it's on the beast that we will spit our anger, and not on you, added Kristofferson, who felt the ambient tension going up a notch.
The young man-rat took a few steps and looked at the villagers one by one. Then he gave his instructions in a loud voice.
- You'll all go home and barricade yourself. Stay calm, have confidence, and I promise you that we'll get rid of this threat. Captain Müller, I want you to bring me your three best soldiers.
- I get you them right away, sir, the Human replied firmly.
Müller jumped on his horse and galloped to the barracks. In the process, he risked to fall from his saddle several times. Kristofferson took no notice, and continued to give directives.
- I want three volunteers to come with me, prepare our bait, and put it on a suitable place. Master Kästner, is there a place where this thing can be lured and trapped?
- Old Egbert's field, right here, the burgomaster replied, pointing to a piece of poorly maintained land.
- Perfect. Three with me. The others, gather in a circle around the perimeter.
The look of the young brown Skaven became harder.
- Whatever it is, tonight, it won't be anymore.
Three hours had passed. Three hours during which no one had dared to say a single word. The dead ox, dismembered, was prominently in the middle of Egbert's field, bloodying from all parts, like the promise of a carnage to come. All the inhabitants had cloistered themselves at home. And the fifteen Humans and Skaven soldiers were waiting. Only the buzzing of the flies, and the singing of the birds, unaware of the drama, were heard. A few crows came to feed on the carcass that was rotting under the sun.
The sky was orange, and the first stars appeared. Müller, lying in the grass next to Kristofferson, rubbed his moustache.
- I sincerely hope that you won't have come for nothing.
- Don't worry, captain. This crap will come. After all, the attacks happened at night, didn't they?
- They did.
The young Steiner leaned on his elbow to turn to the Human.
- You say that you have never been confronted with some serious threat. But you still have regular training?
- Of course, my liege.
- Have you had any conflicts to resolve? Drunk fights, marauders, that kind of thing?
- I had, a couple of times. Anyway, I never neglected my duty, and still today, I regularly…
A cry tearing the skies interrupted the captain. A loud screech, far too powerful to emerge from a throat familiar to ordinary mortals. All the heads rose simultaneously, the eyes widened, the mouths twisted. Two creatures were beating loudly on their bat wings above the village. The last rays of sun shone their reptilian scales. The span of the bigger of the two stretched over twenty-five feet, while the other was about fifteen feet. Their bodies were long, sinuous and muscular like those of a gigantic snake, and claws half a dozen inches long protruded at the end of their hind legs. Their tails were long and tapered, their heads elongated, their eyes huge and gleaming with a malevolent glow, but the most frightening remained their sharp and menacing like so many daggers fangs.
Captain Müller exclaimed:
- Wyverns!
- Pol! Kristofferson called.
The fat Skaven had at least one special talent: he was a good shooter. Formed by Nedland Barnrooster, he was able to reach his target at a far distance with any shooting weapon. He had taken his harquebus, certainly less efficient than that of the Halfling scout, but more effective than average. With a precise gesture, he turned his weapon towards the smallest wyvern. He took a few long seconds to aim at the monster's head, and squeezed the trigger. The detonation made the old captain start, and he screamed with joy.
- Well done!
Indeed, the bullet had reached the creature at its temple. Not enough to kill it, but it slipped into a surprised groan, distracted by the shock. The joy of the men-at-arms was short-lived when the wyvern fell on one of the little houses in a great crash. The roof of thatch and branches collapsed under its weight.
- Taal! exclaimed Walter.
A desperate yell answered this invective. The door of the hut, still standing, opened on the fly, and an old woman out of breath ran across it as fast as her frail legs could run. An odious screeching broke the twilight again. The hungry, greater, wyvern had just spotted a game at its convenience. Already it was putting herself in a position to dash on its prey, its paws forward, its claws ready to tear.
- Charge! Kristofferson ordered.
All the warriors, Humans and Skaven, rushed forward shouting at the flying creature. This one, surprise, slowed down its diving. Walter, who was right behind it, took the opportunity to try a trick that he considered daring, but he would consider dementia thereafter. He spotted the long sinuous tail of the wyvern, ran to the monster, then when he was within reach, made a huge jump, arms outstretched forward, and grasped with both hands the pointed appendix. Fully cut in full attack, the wyvern roared with frustration. Its claws closed in the void. The old woman didn't slow down. Soon, all the soldiers harangued the creature, tried to pierce its coat of scales.
Kristofferson, left behind, was ready to attack as well. He unsheathed his rapier, brandished it, and made three strides towards the fray, but froze. He glanced at his weapon, and spitted. As much as he could find the weak point of an armour, so much this thin blade could not much against such an adversary. He quickly looked around for something more suitable, and his eyes fell on a lumberjack's axe planted in a stump not far from him. He whistled his horse, ran to the axe and grabbed it. A moment later, his horse had arrived near him. He leaped on the horse without a saddle, and made him gallop towards the wyvern. His steed, driven to this kind of situation, didn't flinch.
Kristofferson turned around the beast, then when he found himself facing its back, ran his horse in his direction, then he stood up, balancing on the back of his horse, and leaped on the wyvern, to hold on firmly to one of the quills on its back.
The hungry beast felt the shock. It screamed, shook itself as hard as it could, tried to fly away again, but it was too heavy with the two Skaven who held it back. Kristofferson raised his hand, and slashed the axe on the wyvern's collarbone. It moaned appallingly, it hind legs touched the ground. The wyvern wriggled its wings, repelling the soldiers encircling it. Young Steiner didn't let go of his hold, and he stroke again. At the fourth blow, he cut the right wing of the wyvern. Stunned with pain, unbalanced, it flipped forward. The brown Skaven jumped to the ground and narrowly avoided a tail swing. He straightened up, and hastened to re-join his comrades.
The whole company surrounded the wyvern, and beat it. The monster squeaked in pain, desperately trying to repel its attackers, without success. Kristofferson raised his axe with both hands and smashed the head of the beast. At last the cries went silent, at last it stopped convulsing.
A great silence hovered over the village. Kristofferson quickly scanned the company members. Not one had been seriously injured, at most there had been bruises. Walter, in particular, had been dragged to the ground rather violently, but he already seemed to be recovering. The young Steiner raised his fist to the sky with a cry of victory, immediately imitated by all the others.
- Great job, boys! You have been…
He was interrupted by another croaking. All heads turned to the hut on which the little wyvern had fallen. During the assault on the tall one, it had got rid of the little house so badly, and now it was flying again. The fiercest soldiers were already running in its direction, but it did not attack them. On the contrary, it flew in the direction from which it had come as fast as it could.
The soldiers remained dumbfounded. Müller approached Kristofferson.
- We can stop it when it returns, my liege.
- If it comes back, Pol mumbled. Maybe it got the message.
Kristofferson approached the bloody corpse of the greater wyvern, and narrowed his eyes.
- It may not be so simple.
He looked around again, and since he saw nothing suspicious, he thought the danger had passed.
- You can come here, the monsters are gone!
The villagers came out of their homes, and warmly congratulated the soldiers. The boldest approached hesitantly from the body of the beast, and one of them even dared to touch its scales.
Kästner approached Kristofferson.
- You are real heroes!
- Thank you, Master Kästner. Alas, I'm afraid the troubles are not over yet.
- You think the other beast will come back?
- It may not be alone. Come to see.
The burgomaster accompanied the young ratman who placed himself beside the flank of the wyvern.
- Look, he said, pointing at something.
This something was a strange mark on glistening scales, something too clear to be a mere mark of birth.
- Looks like... a tattoo?
- I believe it is, indeed, Master Kästner.
- Could someone have tattooed this horror?
- Out of the egg, I guess. I have read somewhere that it is possible to tame a wyvern if you proceed early enough. These animals can be easily trained, if you know how to do it.
- So, you mean that this thing belongs to someone?
- I think.
- And so, who is the master of these wyverns, in your opinion?
- I don't know, I've never seen a tattoo like this before today. But I'm sure of one thing: when this master sees one of his two pets come home, he may not be happy and come himself.
- What shall we do now? the burgomaster moaned.
Captain Müller raised his hand.
- No worries, Master Kästner. Now, we have evidence that these attacks were the result of something much more dangerous than mere bandits in mop. The captain of Wüstengrenze will no longer be able to remain deaf to our call for help, and will have to leave men on the spot with mine until we are sure that there is no more danger.
- We'll bring its head back to him, Kristofferson continued. And if he is still reluctant to help you, I'll take care personally to find a more competent substitute.
The general euphoria fell, and with it the certainties, while worries rose again. Kristofferson wanted to reassure the inhabitants of Klapperschlänge.
- Brave folks, we've slayed the beast, but our company will wait for the reinforcements here. We stay at the barracks. If ever one of you sees or hears something weird, he warns us right away. Face of adversity, stay united as you did so far, and I promise you that your village will soon be freed from this threat.
The young ratman then saw something out of the corner of his eye that squeezed his heart. The old woman who had escaped the wyvern was kneeling before the remains of her house, in tears. Kristofferson approached her, and squatted by her side.
- Ma Dame, tomorrow morning, your house will be rebuilt. In the meantime, you shall spend the night with someone who can accommodate you. Master Kästner?
- Yes my lord?
- You have the biggest house in the area. Can you accommodate this person by tomorrow?
- Of course I can.
- Perfect. Let's all go to bed, the day has been long and emotional. We will burn this carcass tomorrow, until then, no one should touch it.
- Why? asked a peasant.
- You never know, wyvern blood or putrefactive vapours can be toxic. Rest, and thank you all!
With these words, the inhabitants of Klapperschlänge returned to their homes. Captain Müller approached Kristofferson. He looked unhappy.
- My liege, I am really sorry.
- For what, captain?
- Because I did not have the courage to fight like you did.
- I saw you alongside the others. You did what you could, given your age, you did well. Captain, I feel that you lack confidence in yourself, but maybe it's because you have not been trusted enough in the past? Sure, you're not at the head of the legion of a Count Elector, but you ran to the wyvern, and not in the opposite direction.
The old man did not answer. Kristofferson patted his shoulder.
- You'll feel better tomorrow.
And the fighters returned to the barracks. The dorm was large enough to temporarily house Kristofferson and his company. They took care of lodging, feeding and curing their horses, cleaned their weapons, and went to sleep on the straw mattresses.
Kristofferson awoke with a start. He looked nervously all around him, breathless for a few moments, then he relaxed, and grumbled.
Again! This must stop!
He knew very well what just happened. It was a regular pain to him when he was nervous. As his mind floated in the limbo of sleep, something suddenly brought him back to reality. Generally, it was a dry, loud and very short sound that resonated directly in his ears, and woke him up immediately by reflex. A dog bark, a gunshot, a thunder crack, a scream, or any other sound of the same kind. Fortunately, he didn't have much trouble falling asleep again when it happened to him. He laid down, closed his eyes, and waited for sleep.
Suddenly, his ear moved slightly.
He opened his eyes. It was another reflex he knew well, too. The one which told him that he had felt something unusual.
I sleep in a barracks of a village where I never went before... of course, I will feel unusual things!
Once again, he felt his ear tickle. He raised his head. This time he had heard something clearly. And it was not in his dreams, nor any illusion. The noise began again. It was distant, but characteristic enough to be recognized with certainty.
What is that? A pig?
Yes, it was the cries of a pig. The young ratman sighed. What's more normal than screaming pigs in the countryside? He turned on the mattress, wanting to forget about it. But something tenacious kept him awake. A small impression, the presence of a tiny little detail, but who could...
Kristofferson jumped up.
There are no pigs here!
The cattle in the village of Klapperschlänge were cows and oxen only. The Steiner son put on his leather vest, took up his weapons, and hurried up the parapet. He approached one of the soldiers.
- Hey, you! Have you seen anything?
- Nothing, my liege.
- I think ... wait! Listen!
The two men were silent. No doubt, cries of pigs rose under the starry sky.
- What is that? asked the soldier.
- Look, here! the brown Skaven firmly replied.
The pig squeals came from behind a hill. And now, an orange glow was in that direction.
Kristofferson hurriedly ordered:
- Horn the alarm!
He did not need to repeat it. The soldier grabbed the horn he wore on his belt and blew inside. The other guards answered him. In the barracks, it was the commotion of combat. It took only a couple of minutes for all the men-at-arms to be gathered in the yard. Captain Müller, standing at attention in front of his troops, asked Kristofferson who was still on the walkway:
- My liege, what is it?
The young ratman turned back to the hill, and felt a shiver electrify his spine. He could see the massive silhouettes of great humanoids wearing motley pieces of armour, helmets with spikes and horns, and coarse heavy weapons. Some held lighted torches, others began to strike their shield with their clubs, the hilt of their sword or the handle of their axe. The flames intermittently illuminated hate facies, burning eyes, protruding fangs. Kristofferson quickly counted a hundred of these invaders, almost four times more than all the soldiers in the barracks. About twenty of them were mounted on huge wild boars. He had never seen one in his life, but recognized them immediately. His blood boiled in his veins. He lowered his muzzle to the yard, and shouted:
- Brace yourselves, soldiers of Klapperschlänge! Your village is attacked by Orcs!
As if to confirm this terrible affirmation, the war cries of the Waaagh broke out in the night, and the Green Skins charged.