Chapter 2
Roderick gave the reigns a harsh tug, his mare slowing to a trot as they passed through the east gate, the rest of his cavalry following in behind. The Commander was waiting for him just beyond the palisades, his armour reflecting the light of the sun, watching Roderick expectantly as he dismounted.
"You're early," the Commander noted. "How fair the new horses?"
"A little more flighty than I'd prefer," Roderick replied, stroking the horse's mane.
"And the raid?"
"Decisive and pummelling," Roderick announced, handing off the reigns to a nearby stablehand. "We crushed at least a third of their forces before they reorganised, while our casualties were low, as expected."
"Excellent!" the Commander said. "if a blow like that doesn't force the Skaven to crawl back into their marshes, I don't know what will." He glanced beyond Roderick, bringing his voice to a low whisper. "What of your… secondary task?"
Roderick hesitated, recalling the dozens of ratmen flailing in the river, each one an opportunity he had chosen not to take. "Sorry, sir," he said, shaking his head.
The Commander chewed his lip. Instead of reprimanding him, he merely waved his arm dismissively. "Bah, it is of no matter. When it comes to Skaven, we Tileans know there's always a next time. Come," he added, planting a hand on Roderick's pauldron. "We can celebrate with the men once I've gotten your report."
While kegs of ale were passed around for the fatigued cavalrymen, the joy of victory placing the camp in high spirits, Roderick and the Commander retired to the war tent, the sounds of revelry muffling as they closed the flap behind them.
What followed was a short while of thorough debriefing, Roderick recounting every frantic second of the raid, from his arrival at the river to his hasty retreat. His encounter with the Skaven leader was of particular interest to his superior. "A Warlock leads the vermintide?" the Commander mused. "Troubling. Might be wise to send for a sorcerer of our own, I hear a wizard appeared down in Portomaggiore not long ago, perhaps he is for hire." He gave Roderick a curious look. "You are truly skilled indeed, Captain, to engage a Skaven Warlock, however briefly, without suffering a scratch."
"What are your plans for the Skaven now?" Roderick asked.
"We'll continue to harry them with our hit and run tactics whenever possible. It has worked thus far. Until we eliminat every weapons team they have, we cannot afford to engage them in a direct assault."
"I would recommend relocating the camp soon," Roderick added. "Staying in one place for too long risks the Skaven catching our scent, and they know we're operating in the area now."
"Sounds like someone is averse in strategy," the Commander mused. "You ever led an outfit of your own, Captain?"
"Never," Roderick lied.
"Pity, something tells me you would suit the role well."
"Regaining my freedom is a little higher on my list," Roderick replied, tapping his foot. "So, as for my debt, Commander…?"
"You did a splendid job this day," the Commander admitted. "More than that, you used a small team to sow chaos against a superior force, that is no small feat. You surprise me, Captain," he added, again giving him that strange look. "What few Imperials I've had under my employ over the years are all talk and no bite, and I thought much the same of you when we first met –you laying at the foot of the Vaults half-dead and all that."
Roderick grimaced at the memory. His body dumped in a ditch, a slash across his side from shoulder to stomach. He'd never seen so much of his own blood before. For all his battles and duels, a group of common bandits had gotten the better of him right after a long, cold journey through the mountains. Roderick had thought it would be the end of him, to drown in his own blood a thousand leagues from his homeland, but as luck would have it, the Commander's band had happened upon him while on patrol that very day. They had brought him to safety, tended to his wounds, and with all his possessions robbed, Roderick had only one thing he could offer his saviours in return.
They had put him to work shovelling excrement and tending to the horses, his affinity with the animals eventually drawing notice from the riders. It wasn't long before his skills as a horseman were taken advantage of, and he was saddled, first for a few skirmishes, then finally put in command of the cavalry group. It wasn't his most glorious few weeks of life, but he imagined it would make a good story for his little brothers.
"I wish my men were half as persistent and resilient as you," the Commander continued. "Perhaps they will be in time, with you working for me. I can pay someone as useful as you very well."
"As tempting as offers go," Roderick replied, hoping his sarcasm didn't come off too strong. "I must be on my way. I've tarried here long enough."
"This isn't a request, Captain. Someone with your skillset doesn't show up in my outfit often, especially not out of the blue. You will train the men and make us a real show of force to our enemies."
"… What are you trying to pull?" Roderick demanded. "We had an agreement – one more raid for my freedom."
"Now we have a new deal," the Commander explained, his tone so casual they could have been discussing their favourite theatre group. "You will be assigned to training duty, I've hired a new batch of recruits that will arrive in the morning. One, maybe two months of shaping them up, and I'll consider rediscussing the terms of your debt."
Roderick blinked. "Surely you jest? I never agreed to train your mercenaries, I-"
"You offered the life debt, Captain, not I," the Commander interjected. "I strongly urge you to consider your next words. Many people would gladly kill for your position right now, and there's plenty of gold in it for you."
"I seek something worth far more than mere gold," Roderick replied. "Summon what little honour you have left, and keep your word."
"If you don't wish to be paid, that works for me," the Commander said with a shrug. His dismissive demeanour shifted, the two men staring one another down as the tension began to rise. "Come now, Captain, you wouldn't refuse the man who saved your life, would you? What would Sigmar say of such an… honourless act of defiance?"
"He'd say that someone was trying to pull a fast one on me," Roderick grumbled. Never mind the fact the Commander given Roderick his word. He should have known not to trust a man of the Southern Provinces, where allegiances and promises could swap at the tip of a hat. Or perhaps tip of the coin purse was a more apt way of putting it. Damned mercenaries.
"I need to clear my head," Roderick said. "if there is nothing else, Sir…"
"Don't let me keep you," the Commander replied. "Go, grab a drink for your nerves, join the celebrations. You'll see how fortunate you are after an evening of rest. Shall I see you at the training fields at first light?"
Roderick nodded curtly, turning to take his leave. He could feel the Commander's eyes on his back the entire time he walked, thrusting the flap out of his way, the hot sun beating down on him. The infantry from the raid had arrived at some point during the renegotiations, the swordsman drinking deeply from mugs of ale as they joined the cavalry in their shared victory over the Skaven. Merriment surrounded him, but jy was the last thing on his mind right now.
Roderick made his way over to the feasting soldiers, but he had no intention of joining their celebrations. To say he wasn't interested in the Commander's deal need not be said, but his reasons went far beyond his unwillingness to basically become a glorified slave. He could take his chances and just walk out of the camp, but without a mount or a weapon, travelling Tilea would be a death sentence. He needed to make a few preparations first, but one way or another, his time in this camp ended tonight.
-xXx-
At first light, Roderick pulled himself out of his cot, fastening the straps of his armour as he paced his tent. The festivity had continued on well into the night, but a silence had eventually settled over the camp as the weary soldiers retired to their bunks, Roderick waiting for half an hour to be sure the revelry wouldn't start back up again when he made his move.
Checking one last time that he had all his possessions, he slunk out of the his tent, glancing both ways as he disappeared into its shadow. The crescent moon shone brightly overhead, casting the campgrounds in a faintly blue glow that would make sneaking difficult, but not impossible. Roderick stuck to the shadows whenever he could, squeezing himself between the tents, gently working his way to the far side of camp, the snoring sounds the soldiers made inside their bunks helping to cover his footsteps and clanking armour.
He could see auras of torchlight move back and forth in nearby parts of the camp, the chatter of the nightwatchmen carrying over the distance. From the way they slurred their words, these men had one too many drinks during the festivities, that should make evading them a little easier.
He could smell burning wood as he slipped through a cluster of tents, peeking around one such tent tent to see a pair of men throwing fresh kindling into one of the many firepits dotting the camp. These were probably serving boys under orders to keep the flames lit in preparation for the morning meals. They wouldn't be on alert for potential intruders, nothing to worry about.
Roderick waited until their backs were turned before crossing the path to the next gathering of tents, the canvas of the shelters rippling as the breeze picked up. He shuffled between the tents as quietly as possible, taking care not to catch his foot on the stakes hammered into the ground, the ropes attached to them making for nasty tripping hazards. As he rounded the next tent, he emerged onto a path, his breath hitching as he heard someone chuckle under their breath behind him. He turned, spying a trio of men coming round the bend, their chainmail armour glittering in the light of their torches.
They hadn't noticed Roderick yet, but they would spot him before he could slip back behind the tent. Taking a swift risk, he batted aside the flap, emerging into a small tent that may have belonged to an officer or scribe – as it was a quaint little space, with silk sheets draped over a bed on one side, a writing desk complete with pots of ink and quills on the other.
The owner wasn't anywhere to be seen, fortunately, Roderick holding his breath as the footsteps drew closer. His fingers brushed the dagger clinging to his belt, had they spotted him? As Captain of the cavalry, he had no real reason to fear being seen by his lessers, but if they spotted someone dressed in full plate sneaking around in the middle of the night, what other conclusion would they come to? Desertion was frowned upon by all armies, no matter what creed or race, and mercenary bands were no different.
The footsteps swept by the tent, one of the men making a joke about rats, the laughter of the other two growing faint as the men continued their patrol, Roderick taking a peek outside to be sure they'd gone. He could see the light of dawn was growing stronger with every minute, but he waited to make sure they wouldn't come back before pressing on.
His progress was methodical, slow, but Roderick reached the edge of camp without another close encounter with the sentries, the tents reduced to a few scattered handfuls the closer he got to the palisades. Adjacent to the perimeter wall was a relatively empty space walled off by a post fence, and sitting inside it was a series of hollow wooden awnings six or seven long, roofed by large sheets of tattered cloth.
Roderick made his way towards them, vaulting the fence, narrowly avoiding a feeding trough leaning against the post nearby, dashing across the open space towards the awning on the left. His hasty entrance startled one of the horses taking refuge inside the shelter, the creature whipping its head back and forth and snorting loudly.
He soothed the mare with a couple soft words, moving into the improvised stables carefully, stroking the mount when he was close enough. Recognising him as its rider from the battle yesterday, the horse relaxed, stamping its foot as though trying to convey its annoyance at having its rest disturbed.
Bales of straw lined the three walls, creating little alcoves for the four or five other horses crammed into the space, the creatures standing still as statues as they dozed. Roderick took a knee, pushing one of the lumps of straw aside, revealing a small alcove in the wall, where a leather saddle rested just inside.
Lifting the tack with some effort, he hoisted the saddle onto the horse, the creature chewing on the straw as he looped the straps over his flanks. Once it was fitted, he returned to the alcove, reaching in deep and taking out a shortsword and a pistol next, along with a bag of powder charges and pouches full of basic travelling supplies. He'd gathered whatever essentials he could find the previous afternoon, his status as Captain affording him some measure of discretion to stash the gear safely away in preparation for his departure. He would have preferred a rifle, but that kind of firepower wasn't as easy to smuggle from the quartermaster as the pistol was.
He fixed the saddlebags to the horse's tack, brushing off the stray bits of hay, tugging the belts so they wouldn't come loose when he started riding. When he was as ready as he could be, he slid his weapons and helmet onto the loops, fastened them, then moved over to untie the horse from its hitch.
"Keep still, damn you," he muttered, the mare shaking its head as he placed the bit in its mouth. Perhaps it had been too shaken by all those ratmen by the river, and he couldn't blame it. He'd steal another horse, but the tack was ready to go, and he didn't couldn't waste time redoing it all.
He calmed the mare as best he could, then led it out into the moonlight. Sneaking around with a mount was bound to draw attention, so his plan was simply to ride out before anyone could react in time.
As he lifted a leg into the stirrup, he paused, noticing torchlight out of the corner of his eye. A group of four men were ringing the fence, stepping through the gate and into the paddock. They were all dressed in full plate armour, their faces obscured behind heavy helmets, all save for one, his features slowly defining themselves as the group made a beeline for Roderick.
"Tell me one thing, Captain," the Commander began, passing his torch from right hand to left. "In the Empire, what is the punishment for absconding with military property? Ten, twenty lashes?"
The three soldiers fanned out, creating a loop around Roderick, hands on the pommels of their swords. His horse shuffled on the spot, Roderick stroking its neck as he replied.
"How did you find me?"
"Do you take me for a fool?" the Commander asked. "I've had your tent watched since the day you showed up. I really am disappointed in you, Captain, you could have been my right hand, we could have accomplished many great deeds together."
"Killing rodents, and slaughtering your own countrymen is no 'great deed'," Roderick countered. "Then again, it's rather difficult to tell Tileans and Skaven apart, so you're commendable in that respect."
The Commander frowned, his usual stoicism faltering at the insult. "I gave you a chance of a lifetime," he growled. "and you threw it away, all for what? Your pride? Your duty to your Emperor? Your Empire is dead, Imperial, it cannot even hold its borders from simple beastmen, chaos spreads through your lands unchecked, while your idle governments do nothing but bicker like children. The very gods have forsaken your world."
"As long as even one Reiklander lives, so does our Empire," Roderick defended.
"Then your homeland will lose one more of its sons this day," the Commander replied. "Unless you'd rather take the lashings. Come quietly, and I may yet show you mercy for this little transgression of yours."
In response, Roderick drew his shortsword out of the saddle, brandishing the blade defiantly as he took up a defensive stance. Two of the soldiers were moving round his flanks, while the third stood between him and the Commander, their blades scraping their scabbards as they unsheathed their weapons as well.
The Commander shook his head. "Fool," he muttered, waving his men forward. "Chance after chance I give you, why are you Imperials so stubborn?"
"Part of being Sigmar's servants, I'd wager," Roderick replied, turning to the men advancing on him. He couldn't afford to get surrounded, so he took the initiative, pouncing on the one to the right with as much speed as he could muster. Perhaps he should have grabbed a warhammer instead of a sword, fighting men wearing plate wasn't the best matchup for a blade, especially when he was outnumbered, but he'd planned on avoiding confrontation during his escape.
The soldier met his charge with an underhand swing, Roderick side-stepping out of the way, the miss causing the soldier to leave him wide open. Gripping the blade of his sword in his gauntlet, Roderick struck with the pommel, the soldier's helmet ringing like a bell as he stumbled back. He followed up his attack with a savage kick, planting his foot into the soldier's belly that sent his opponent tumbling onto his back.
The soldier reached for his dropped weapon, but Roderick kicked it out of his reach, angling the tip of his sword towards the fallen man's visor. Before he could finish him off, Roderick turned his attention to his rear, the two other soldiers circling behind him, their armour creaking. The one closest to him delivered a swift strike to his arm, Roderick gasping as white-hot pain travelled down his limb. The armour would save him from any mortal cuts and slashes, but being hit by a sword was still a painful experience.
The soldier came at him again, thrusting his sword out in a stab, but Roderick was ready this time. He let his weapon rest in one hand, using his free glove to catch the soldier's weapon mid-strike, the segmented plates on his digits keeping him from slicing off his own fingers. He pulled the solider off-balance, driving his sword into the wrist joint of the soldier's gauntlet.
The soldier dropped his weapon, loosing a pained cry as Roderick's blade poked out from the other side of his hand, impaling him halfway up the blade's length. Roderick tugged his weapon like he was wrenching an axe free from a tree, ripping the man's hand off with all the ease of slicing off a piece of pork, the soldier falling to his knees as he nursed his ruined arm. The severed hand hit the grass with a thump, the index finger still twitching.
The third soldier, looking to save his wounded comrade, charged in from the side, Roderick batting his sword aside, metal clashing on metal. The soldier threw his weight into an attack aimed at Roderick's unprotected face, but switched angles at the last moment, pulling their swords to the side and smashing Roderick's jaw with his elbow, his mouth filling with blood.
Roderick lunged for the solider, their armour clacking loudly as they interlocked arms, the two men trying to overpower the other, too close to use their swords. Roderick managed to twist one of the soldier's arms, punching the man with his armoured fist. The blow sent the soldier reeling, his head banging against the inside of his helmet.
He shoved the solider back, giving himself enough breathing room to draw his dagger, holding it in his off hand. Between the pauldron and the cuirass was an exposed joint in the armour, and Roderick plunged the knife into the soldier's side there, burying the blade up to the crossguard. He gave his wrist a pointed twist, the soldier contorting as his internal organs were ruptured.
The soldier dropped to his knees, clutching his side in a vain attempt to stop the bleeding as he keeled over. Roderick turned to see the soldier he'd engaged first had picked himself up, reversing the grip on his sword so the pommel was facing away from his body, swinging it like a mace. He tried to parry it, but Roderick reacted too late, the air emptying out of his lungs as the soldier struck him on the belly.
Roderick took a few steps back to keep distance, sheathing his knife and holding his sword out as he waited for the soldier's next attack. Roderick was getting short on breath from all the hits he was taking, but his opponent was leery of engaging him, glancing at his companions lying on the ground around him, one wailing in agony as he clutched his stump of a hand, the other relaxing as a circle of blood pooled beneath him.
"You say I slaughter my own countrymen, but look how you butcher your former men!" the Commander snarled, Roderick maintaining eye-contact with the soldier. "Hold back, Amici, I'll kill this traitor personally."
The Commander stepped over the soldier who was minutes from death, reaching down to pluck his weapon from his stiff fingers. Roderick might have gotten the better of the soldiers, but the Commander was an experienced warrior, and if it came down to a duel of attrition, Roderick was at a disadvantage.
"Nobody else has to die this night," Roderick said, wiping his bleeding lip as he addressed the soldier. "Amici, right? Step aside, lad, I've no quarrel with you, I just want to take my leave."
"Alert the camp, soldier," the Commander barked, his gaze never leaving Roderick's. "Awake the whole garrison, I want everyone to see this traitorous Imperial fall by my hand."
As the soldier turned to flee, he was frozen in place. In the corner of the paddock, the land had begun to bulge, like a giant plant ten feet across was rapidly growing from out below the earth. Roderick could feel vibrations travel up his armoured legs, the sensation growing and growing until it felt like the beginnings of an earthquake. The Commander felt it too, looking over his shoulder as he watched the protrusion of dirt rise, the sudden, strange sight making the men forget about their duel momentarily.
Like a burst pimple, the bulge splintered and ripped, a shower of dirt and dust spraying out of the cracks and into the air. As the debris began to cascade back down, muzzles and whiskers emerged from the breached earth, a pair of pink ears twitching as a creature emerged into the moonlight, its face covered in soot and dirt. It turned its beady eyes in every direction, stopping when its gaze settled on the three men. It stretched a furry shoulder out of the earth, then an arm, then finally a hand, using its clawed fingers to gesture in the Roderick's direction.
It unleashed a guttural snarl, exposing a yellow set of long fangs, its other arm emerging to brandish a cruel, black sword, stabbing it into the ground for leverage as it hoisted itself out of the breach. It was followed by another of its kind, then two more, then a whole swarm of ratmen crawled out of the ground, oozing from the newly formed burrow like a blight, their furry, brown bodies flooding the paddock.
"Skaven!" the Commander bellowed, raising his voice. "To arms, men! To arms!"
He was trying to awaken any sleeping soldiers in the area, not that he needed too, the Skaven weren't exactly being subtle about their attack. The ground quaked again, another burrow appearing out of the ground on the other side of the fence to the right, the high-pitched war cries of the ratmen carrying over the camp.
The Commander and Roderick all but forgot their duel as the vermintide washed over the paddock towards them, the Commander swinging his sword like a scythe, cutting down a pair of lunging ratmen. Roderick braced himself as a Skaven turned in his direction, the creature duel-wielding a pair of shortswords and flailing them in his mad sprint. His movements were telegraphed, and Roderick cut the rodent down easily with a precise swipe across its muzzle.
Bells were carrying on the wind from all directions, the Skaven must be hitting all parts off the camp in an attempt to overwhelm the band, a common tactic employed by the numerous ratmen. Roderick was engaged by another Skaven, he and the creature exchanging blows as he started backing up. His horse had stood witness during his fight with the soldiers, but seeing the vermintide was making it restless, loosing a whinny that was disturbingly close to that of a cry. Roderick snatched it by the reigns before it could bolt, struggling to keep a hold on it while fending off the ratman.
Felling the Skaven with a backhanded swing, he turned about, lifting one leg into the stirrup and hoisting himself into the saddle in one quick movement. Taking the reigns into his gauntlets, he looked up, seeing the Commander and the soldier, Amici, putting themselves between the wounded men and the Skaven, but they were outnumbered ten to one, the odds only getting worse as more rats still continued to emerge from the burrow.
Roderick's first reaction was a deep guilt in his chest, a part of himself insisting that he should dismount and help his fellow men, but he reconsidered. He had been simply defending himself, they'd chosen to fight him, not the other way around.
His cold reasoning didn't make him feel any better, but it gave him the willpower to spur his horse on, his mount dipping its head as he kicked its flanks, bringing it to a steady gallop. A pair of ratmen were flung clear as the horse barrelled through the tide, Roderick blocking an errant strike aimed at his leg as he fled the paddock.
"Coward!" the Commander bellowed, continuing to taunt him even as the Skaven surrounded him. "The mighty Reiklander flees! Sigmar curse you, traitor!"
The Commander's words faded as Roderick's horse leapt the fence, man and horse grunting as they landed on the path with a thump. He pulled the reigns to the side, the horse turning about. The east gate leading out of camp was a straight shot from the paddock, Roderick spotting archers posted up on the palisades, the men loosing arrows down at a group of Skaven scurrying about the foot of the walls. How had the rats found the camp? And how had they recovered so much to stage an ambush of this scale? He couldn't hear the telltale sound of weapons teams, maybe this was an entirely new force? In any case, his best chance was to get clear, and leave these mercenaries to their fate. Perhaps he truly was a coward, but what other choice did he have?
"SNEAKY ATTACK-ATTACK!"
Up and behind him, Roderick watched as a Skaven leatp from the top of a nearby tent, its cloaked figure framed by the moon as it reached the peak of its jump. For a moment it looked like it would land a good few feet clear of him, but its outstretched arms gave it the reach it needed, seizing the horse by the saddlebags.
The mare loosed a terrified cry, the last of its resolve crumbling at the unexpected sensation of the newly added weight. It began to bolt, its hooves thundering across the path as it made for the gate, Roderick pulling on its reigns in a bid to slow it down.
He heard the Skaven cackle under its breath, looking back to see the rodent brandishing a wicked dagger, the blades edge glowing a sickly green. It poised the dagger over its head, driving it towards his leg, Roderick intercepting the strike with his sword, swiping the rodent's weapon aside. The ratman's dagger must be corrosive, because the part of his sword that had made contact with its weapon started to slag, Roderick watching with a perplexed expression as solid steel liquefied before his very eyes.
The Skaven's cloak rippled as the horse sprinted at full-kilter, the world around him seeming to blur as it picked up speed. He parried another swing from the ratman, the rodent clinging stubbornly to his saddle even as the movement from the horse caused it to flail around wildly.
As dextrous as a snake, the Skaven crawled over the horse's flank until it stood upon its spine, hunching down so it didn't lose its balance. Roderick batted it away as it made to close the distance, the snivelling creature squeaking when his blade came within an inch of its pink nose.
It was hard to face the rodent with it placed squarely at his rear, making his swings awkward and unbalanced, and the panicked horse wasn't helping either. At least the Skaven was similarly affected, its attention divided between clinging to the horse and fighting its rider. As they exchanged hits, Roderick was just barely aware of the palisades shrinking away in the backdrop, the horse charging through the gate and into the wilds hugging the camp, the blue and white tents vanishing from view as it bolted over a hill.
The sounds of battle gave way to the calls of crickets and other nocturnal animals, Roderick starting to see trees in his peripherals. He wanted to slow the horse down, but the Skaven hijacking his mount was all he could focus on. He was exhausted enough with his fight with the soldiers, and his sword would melt clean off if he continued to parry and block its corrosive dagger, he needed to deal with this thing quickly.
The rodent seemed to follow the same train of thought, Roderick watching with wide eyes as it produced a second, identical dagger from its belt. Roderick prepared for an attack from two angles, but the Skaven surprised him but turning its blade upside down, plunging it into the horse's spine right through the saddle.
The mare threw its head back, its mouth parting in a wail as its legs gave out, Roderick feeling his stomach fly up into his chest as it crashed to the ground. He was thrown clear out of his saddle, his feet slipping out of the stirrups, his world turning upside down as he arched over the horse's head.
He felt something crack as his chest met the ground, Roderick bracing his hands in front of his face instinctively as he began to twist and roll. He felt the fronds of a bush encase him, a wall of sharp branches bringing his fall to a halt, his head swirling with dizziness and pain.
It felt like it took a lifetime for Roderick to summon up the strength to move, crawling out of the shrub on his hands and knees. Looking up, he found himself in a small clearing, walled on all sides by trees and ferns, some of the tallest leaves bathed in yellow light. Sunrise was almost over.
To his left, his mare was sprawled out on its side, saddle still attached, its lifeless eyes confirming it hadn't gotten off as lucky as Roderick had. His armour had kept him from falling unconscious, but the fall had done hell on his limbs, particularly his shoulder, which sent fresh stabs of agony down his body whenever he moved it.
To his right, the leaves of another bush began to rustle, and after a moment, the Skaven flung itself to the ground, its eyes shut tight as it squirmed in the graSS. He had hoped the little creature would have died in the fall, but it seemed he'd have to finish it off.
Roderick fumbled for his sword, spotting it laying discarded on the ground nearby, driving the point into the ground to help him stand. Every movement sent white-hot pain though his chest, something was definitely broken.
He leaned on his sword, even getting to one knee was a horrendous task, his vision blurring as he sucked in a gasp of air. The Skaven was fairing no better, flailing around like a fish out of water as it pawed at fresh scars on its arms and sides. He noticed it was coated in a fine layer of black fur, its shade almost the same as the poncho secured around its neck.
"My head-face!" the Skaven mumbled, rubbing its eyes with one hand and nursing its temple with the other. It seemed to momentarily forget it was wearing a pair of green, tinted goggles, lifting the lenses away to press the palm of its hand into its sockets.
With an annoyed chitter, it dragged its claws down its face, blinking as it turned in Roderick's direction. For a few moments the Skaven stared blankly at him, like it had forgotten he was there or that they'd been fighting a minute ago. "Man-thing!" it suddenly began. Its tone of voice was soft, slightly on the higher pitch side. "You give four-leg-thing to me-me! Or I cut-stab you!"
"W-What?" Roderick asked, dumbfounded at the fact a Skaven had just strung more than two words together in the same breath. "No idea what you're talking about."
The Skaven thrust a claw towards the horse. "Stupid deaf man-thing!" it snarled, jabbing its claw for emphasis. "That four-leg-thing! I have-take, ride through bright lands quick-quick!"
"You... want my horse?" he asked, raising a brow. "You just killed it, you dense little rodent!"
"Lies!" the Skaven replied. "Four-leg-thing is sleep-sleeping!"
"You'll be 'sleeping' in a minute once I'm through with you," Roderick growled, supporting himself on his sword. He tried to get to one knee again, and this time he succeeded, the muscles in his wounded shoulder throbbing as he prepared to lift the other leg.
The Skaven's eyes went wide as it watched him struggle, fighting its own war with its body as it attempted to rise off the ground. It was groaning and snarling louder than Roderick was, but it eventually succeded in clambering to its feet, putting its stature at around five feet tall, maybe a little less.
As Roderick rose to his full height, towering over the little Skaven, he examined the rodent in a little more detail. That poncho it was wearing draped over its chest and belly, but calling it clothing would be insulting every tailor in existence. The sleeves that covered its muscular shoulders were frayed and ragged, and there were holes all over it, dark fur spilling out of numerous slashes and cuts.
His gaze trailed upwards, and from beneath its hood, a pair of dark, crimson eyes peered back at him, the black irises large and oddly expressive. Its face was akin to that of an everyday rat, a muzzle tipped with a dark nose flanked by tufts of whiskers.
Its short torso was lean and streamlined, a narrow waist tapering into a very womanish set of hips. It wore a simple loincloth to preserve its modesty, along with a belt that was brimming with an absurd number of knives and pouches. Its thighs were easily the largest part of its body, as wide as the breadth of its shoulders, powerful with muscle, the legs ending in four, clawed toes.
From the tips of its ears to its feet, it was covered in that dark fur covered it, the coat so thin that he could make out every curve in its body, every shifting muscle. Its hide might have rivelled those of the finest Imperial warhorses, if the rodent wasn't in such a horrific state.
Nearly every inch of its body was covered in filth, the likes of which even the most pathetic of beggars wouldn't dare be caught wearing. There was slop, flecks of dirt, and what even appeared to be a few kernels of burnt corn glued to its hide. The strands of fur were angled the wrong way in places, like it had brushed itself incorrectly. Witnessing the muck made him acutely aware of its stench, and he had to pinch his nose between his fingers to hold back a gag.
When Roderick was ready, he held his sword arm at the ready, stepping forward and bringing it down in a chopping motion. The rodent looked as winded as he felt, but seeing his oncoming blade forced it into action. Like coiled springs, its legs propelled its dirty body out of the way, the Skaven landing on all fours like a cat a short distance away.
"Man-thing fights greatest assassin," the rat said, placing a hand in its clock as Roderick advanced. "Man-thing should reconsider deal-bargain."
It threw its arm out in a swiping motion, a pair of objects whistling through the air towards him. They were small, metallic objects, shaped into the approximation of a star, the arms sharped to curved points, the spinning weapons glinting as they crossed through a dappled beam of light.
Roderick crossed his blade over his front, intercepting one of the throwing-stars and slicing it out of the air. The second star went wide, imbedding itself in the trunk of a tree, splinters of wood flying.
"Greatest horse assassin, sure," Roderick replied. He mustered up his strength and advanced on the Skaven, intending to drive his sword through its chest, but it reacted too quickly. It stepped clear, the missed swing causing Roderick to stumble, the Skaven tilting its wide hips like it was starting to dance. A pink, scaley tail protruding from its rump curled round its flank and into view, coiling around his ankle like a striking snake. It pulled with a surprising amount of strength, sending Roderick crashing to the ground with a grunt.
Roderick lifted himself up just in time to see the Skaven aiming its dagger at his chest. Still on his back, he threw his sword out, slashing the rodent across its forearm. The creature screeched, clutching its forearm to its chest as it stumbled away.
Picking himself up, Roderick brought his sword to bear, the Skaven beginning to circle him, careful to stay out of his reach. It reached down to pull its second dagger out of its many belts, the Skaven smacking its large lips together as though it couldn't wait to taste his flesh.
"Man-thing can't run-flee on four-leg-thing anymore," it taunted, Roderick turning on the spot so he was always facing it. "Man-thing has no man-things to help it, it is alone."
"As are you," Roderick replied. "In numbers you lot are a pain to deal with, but single a rat out, and it's toast."
"I am not 'toast," the rodent exclaimed as though he'd offended it. "I am Skyseeker! Champion of Great-Great Clan Mors! Master assassin, too!"
"Yeah you mentioned that already," he muttered. "Well come on then, Champion, show me what you got."
The Skaven was quick, closing the distance between them in less than a second, Roderick raising his sword just in time to block a jab aimed at his stomach. He stepped back as the creature lashed out with its second dagger, countering with a slice across its exposed chest. He could feel his weapon make contact, shredding some of its cloak to ribbons, but it hadn't cut deep enough to make it a mortal wound, the Skaven leaping clear, glaring up at him as the two squared off.
He could see the rodent was panting, its short torso expanding and contracting. It seemed to be lacking the energy reserves for a prolonged duel. As an assassin, it was probably trained to kill its enemies quickly and quietly, and he was putting it far out of its comfort zone engaging it like this. He just needed to keep it busy for a little bit longer, and he might be able to wear it down, assuming he didn't pass out first.
Despite its obvious exertion, the Skaven wasn't ready to give up. It came at him again, tree branches cracking beneath its feet. Roderick braced his weapon against his shoulder, ready to cut its head clean off its shoulders. Rather than duck out of the way, it brought one of its daggers up, the two blades clashing with a loud, hollow report. Momentum carried Roderick through the swing as though it hadn't been intercepted, but his sword felt a touch lighter than before, the Skaven dropping into a low crouch with a big smile on its muzzle.
Roderick quirked a brow, turning his sword so the flat of it faced him. The point of his sword was gone, the blade cutting off in a clean swipe near the middle of its length, the jagged metal glowing with a green fluid. Those damned daggers had finally weakened the steel enough to slag it through completely.
"Not bad," he admitted, adjusting his hold on the damaged sword, wielding it like an oversized knife. "Never had my weapon sundered like that before."
"Man-thing not face Skyseeker before," the Skaven replied, reversing the grip on its daggers. "You surrender-stop, or I sunder fingers next."
"I'm not out of this fight just yet," he replied. He raised his weapon, as high as his wounded shoulder would allow, the Skaven crossing its daggers as it met his advance. He exchanged a flurry of quick blows with the rodent, doing his best not to meet its corrosive weapons head-on, but that was an unavoidable outcome in any swordfight.
Swirling its knives with all the finesse of an acrobat, the Skaven forced him onto the defensive, slicing off another few inches of the blade's length, the Skaven clearly happy with itself as it watched the steel fall to the grass. He cut its small victory short with a savage backhand, the rodent leaping clear at the last moment. He swiped at it again, but the Skaven dropped to the ground, skittering out of his reach when he sliced the patch of grass where it had just been crawling.
The creature was fast, but all the jumping and dodging clear was making it tire, its coat starting to glisten with all the exertion. Its breaths were coming out in rasps now, it was tiring, but so was Roderick. The fight with the Commander's men, the fall off the horse, and now this? It was more than his body could handle.
The Skaven came at him again, the two exchanging swipes, Roderick creating an opening to deliver a kick to the rodent's belly, the creature so light the blow lifted it off its feet, ending its short flight against the trunk of a tree. It crumpled to the grass in a heap, Roderick moving in to finish it off, but the Skaven picked itself up before he could close in, baring its teeth in a snarl as it scraped one dagger against the other.
Taking the offensive, the Skaven launched a series of furious attacks, Roderick forced to hold out his blade defensively. He couldn't afford to meet those enchanted daggers with plain steel, but it was only so long before the nimble rat forced him into holding his sword out sideways in a block. It gave the Skaven the perfect angle, thrusting a dagger towards him in an upward-facing strike, cleaving his sword just above the crossguard, leaving only an inch of the blade still connected.
"Well," he said, looking at his ruined weapon in mild disbelief. "Don't suppose that deal is still on the table, is it?"
It held a dagger an inch from his nose, Roderick raising his arms in surrender. The Skaven gestured the glowing tip at his ruined weapon, Roderick relaxing his fingers and letting it drop.
"You… give four-leg-thing to me-me," the Skaven demanded through rasping breaths. "I should gut stupid man-thing for its stupidity! Made me go through rigmarole, only to take deal-bargain? Stupid!"
It was a wonder this thing hadn't simply finished him off when his weapon was gone, Skaven would sooner enslave or devour their opponents rather than make deals, savages that they were, but this thing seemed to be obsessed over his dead mount.
"You want my horse? Fine," he said, eyes flicking from the glowing blade to its owner. "Take it, she's all yours."
The Skaven's beaming expression reminded him of a child about to unwrap a present, exposing its front buck teeth in a smile. "Another Skyseeker scheme fulfilled-complete, yes-yeees. Man-thing," it added, waving the dagger at his face. "You teach me how to control-direct four-leg-thing, can keep fingers after."
So that was why it hadn't killed him, it wanted to know how to ride a horse? It still seemed under the impression that the mare was still usable, maybe he could use that to his advantage.
"Alright, you win," he conceded. "I'll teach you, just have to wake it up first, then we can start."
He made to turn, but the Skaven sidled up to him, holding the point of its dagger an inch from his neck. "No trick-tricks?" it asked, its tail weaving back and forth behind it.
"No trick-tricks," Roderick confirmed. It considered its next move for a few tense moments, then nodded as it made up its mind, gesturing for him to proceed.
Leaning away from its dagger, Roderick turned around, approaching the mare slowly so he didn't accidently startle the Skaven. He knelt down in front of the horse, the body already beginning to permeate the air with a foul smell. He gave it a shake with one hand, moving his other towards the saddlebags.
"Time to wake up, uh… horsey," he said, failing to make up a name on the spot. He glanced back at the Skaven. "You might want to step back, rodent, horses tend to freak out if you interrupt their naps."
It was a blatant lie, but the Skaven had obviously never seen a horse before, and it was not even a third of the mare's overall size. The Skaven glanced at the horses splayed hooves, then took his advice, paw-like feet scraping the ground as it scurried away.
Roderick bent over, covering as much of the saddle with his body, blocking it from the rat's view. There was a sound of scraping leather, and Roderick whirled around, the Skaven squeaking in surprise as it saw his fingers were wrapped around the wooden grip of his pistol, the two locking eyes down the iron sights.
"Man-thing say no tricks!" the Skaven complained, holding its arms out in exasperation.
"I lied, you fool," he said, the weapon clicking as he pulled back the hammer. "Now hold still…"
The Skaven spun on its heel, dashing behind the cover of a tree as Roderick fired, spark and smoke sending a bullet crashing into the trunk. A crack echoed through the forest, Roderick thumbing a fresh charge down the barrel, spotting a pink tail disappear into the ferns beyond the clearing. He sent another shot downrange, the shrubs parting as the bullet tore through the thicket, the shaking bushes betraying the Skaven's location as it fled deeper into the forest. The creature must be very familiar of the stopping power of a gun if it was running so quickly.
Roderick reloaded again, sweeping his handgun across the shrubs, eyes scanning for movement, the report of his weapon fading into silence. He waited five minutes, then ten, only lowering his guard when he was sure the Skaven had fled the area, but he doubted the thing would leave him alone forever. It was probably planning on coming back with a whole pack of its kin for support.
Despite this danger, he found himself collapsing on the grass, every muscle in his body craving for rest, all the fatigue from the morning's events catching up with him. Roderick ran a hand through his damp hair. He'd escaped the camp and chased off the Skaven, but he'd lost his horse, and was now stuck in the wilds, no roads or landmarks in sight. This was not how he imagined bringing the Empire to victory would look like.
When he started to get his heartbeat under control, he returned to his horse, untying the bags from the saddle and hoisting them over his shoulder. He had enough food for a few days, maybe a week if he was willing to starve himself. Walking would add days to his journey, he might have to resort to poaching if he wanted to get out of these damned mercenary lands.
Weighed down with all his possessions, he began to walk, leaving the horse and the clearing behind, checking that his handgun was primed and ready. He would need to keep it close now that his sword was gone, and while having a ranged advantage was a tactical bonus in a fight, it could only fire one shot at a time, and reloading required a lot of concentration.
As he ducked beneath a branch, his thoughts turned to that Skaven. Every rodent he'd ever seen had fur the colour of dirt, with the exception of their Warlock's and other leaders, who were normally silver or grey. This one was as dark as the night sky, its lean figure covered in a thin coat that brought to mind the memories of a panther he once saw in a carnival show when he was a boy.
He remembered its figure, distinctly hourglass as it danced and hopped on its muscular legs, unusually limber for a rat. Had it been a female? It was hard to tell the little rodents apart at the best of times, but the signs were there. He would have thought the rats to keep their females far from the front lines of war, but here one was, and she'd been quite the little fighter, just as ferocious as the males of her kind.
The exception being the fact she hadn't immediately cut him down the moment his sword was ruined. It was a small, but significant display of mercy from a Skaven, the race that enslaved entire towns of men. It was quite the intriguing development.
No matter, Roderick had other things to worry about than some ratwoman. He turned his attention to his journey ahead, picking up the pace as he headed south, the sun rising from the horizon helping to guide him in the right direction.