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Code of the Skies – Extract

A Black Library Publication

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Chapter One

The Champion of Khorne towered over Orrum Steelfist.

He was the last of his kind alive in the vaulted treasury, buried deep beneath the vast edifice of the Thrice-Forged Fastness. Orrum and her fellow Kharadron Overlords had been hard-pressed to defeat his fellow warriors, each of them huge and heavily armoured brutes armed with sharp axes and supernatural speed and skill.

This remaining figure was even larger than the others, his armour more ornate, his face bare and his features warped and mutated by the corruptions of Chaos. Short horns sprouted from his forehead, and in place of axe and shield he carried a two-handed sword which seemed to writhe in his grasp. On its long blade, leering daemonic faces moved and shifted, and Orrum thought she could hear them whispering in low and sinister voices.

The champion hadn’t moved while his underlings were fighting the duardin. Orrum knew little about the ways of Chaos worshippers, but she supposed he’d been letting them live or die on their own merit. She wouldn’t expect honour or camaraderie among those who willingly sold their souls to dark powers.

Now, the warrior advanced and struck, quicksilver-fast, sword lashing out to drive through an arkanaut’s armour, spilling guts onto the stone floor. As if impelled into action by this death, the rest of the duardin began to move, slipping into formation as they’d been drilled to do. Pistols fired, bullets driving holes into skull-encrusted armour. Spurting black blood slowed to nothing as the wounds healed infernally quickly. Arkanaut cutters lashed out, parried by the daemonic blade before return strokes took heads from shoulders or sliced grievous wounds through armour and flesh.

Orrum fought alongside two warriors from a different arkanaut company, her training kicking in and allowing her to act as part of a unit with them, keeping pressure on the champion, forcing him back a step even as another pair of Kharadrons came at him from a different angle. He turned and bisected one of the duo, kicking out at the other and pushing him back, before turning almost elegantly. He brought the heavy sword into a low sweep that made Orrum throw herself backwards, dropping her cutter. One of her companions wasn’t as quick, and was slain. The other roared in fury and pressed his attack, a quick swipe breaking the champion’s armour just below his knee, before he too was cut down.

The champion’s attention turned to others, and Orrum reached for her cutter, fingers closing around it as she pulled herself back to her feet. She drew her pistol as the champion swung around again. The Chaos worshipper’s eyes shone a daemonic red, and he raised his sword to strike. Rather than pull back, or try to parry with her cutter, Orrum ran forwards, cocking the pistol as the sword came down. It hit her right shoulder, slicing neatly through armour and flesh, and grinding against bone. Her arm spasmed and she dropped her cutter, biting down the agony and focusing on her chance.

‘Take this, daemon-spawn,’ she muttered, and thrust her pistol into the crack opened by her fellow privateer’s last blow. She fired, and the champion fell to one knee. Orrum stumbled away, looking again for her cutter, or any weapon she could take up to defend herself against the furious assault that was sure to follow.

‘It’s all right, lass. You’ve done your part. Let me finish this varrkhulg off,’ said a voice beside her. Orrum looked up to see a duardin standing over her. The newcomer wore armour more ornate than Orrum and her fellow privateers. Cast in gleaming gold and bronze, the plate covered more of the Kharadron’s rubberised sky-suit than any other that Orrum had seen. On its back was an immense power pack, wheezing pipes connecting to an enormous hammer in one hand. She glanced at the warrior’s helmet. Rather than a snarling, bearded visage, representing the warrior-ancestors of the Kharadron, the face was beardless and placid, modelled after Valaya, the ancestor of hearth and home, but with crossed axes emblazoned upon both bronze cheeks. This could only be Admiral Borri Kraglan, leader of their expedition. Orrum didn’t serve on the admiral’s vessel, and had signed on with the Broken Blades privateer company without ever meeting her ultimate commander.

The admiral gripped her skalfhammer in both hands and nodded.

‘Admiral,’ Orrum said, but Kraglan was already moving.

‘Are you the blood-drinking daemon-fondler who runs this place?’ the admiral shouted at the champion. ‘I’ve been looking for you, and you were hiding down here?’

The champion’s mouth opened, but no reply issued. Looking up, Orrum could see that the Chaos warrior’s tongue was missing.

‘Nothing to say, eh?’ Kraglan said. ‘Maybe I’ll find your tongue in the same place I’m going to stick my hammer.’

The Chaos worshipper charged, raining blows down on Kraglan. The admiral parried them all, standing firm in the face of the blood-soaked rage.

‘Is that the best you’ve got?’ she mocked. ‘My grandmother hits harder than that, and she’s been dead half a century. Even your half-naked boys upstairs gave me more of a challenge than this.’

Kraglan ducked beneath a scything blow and swung her skalfhammer at the champion’s wounded leg, dropping him to one knee again. ‘Your big beastie of a god, fond of blood, isn’t he? Well, you’ve got plenty.’ She raised the hammer, activated the drill which adorned one side of the finely crafted head, and brought it down on the champion’s skull. It burst open, showering the admiral, Orrum and most of the room with blood, brain matter and chips of bone.

Kraglan turned off the drill, dropped the hammer and turned to Orrum. ‘Now we’re going to have to clean this one’s blood off the loot. Didn’t think that one through.’

Orrum pulled herself to her feet, ignoring the pain radiating from her wounded shoulder, and looked around at the carnage. Dozens of duardin were dead or badly wounded. But the treasure…

‘What’s your name, lass?’ Kraglan asked.

‘Orrum Steelfist.’

‘Steelfist? You’re…’

‘Yes, admiral. Harek Steelfist’s daughter.’

‘Oh, aye. Your father and I go way back. I’m surprised he let you sign on with me, to be honest. We don’t quite see eye to eye. Not for a long time now.’

‘He… wasn’t pleased, admiral.’

‘I’m sure he will be when I tell him what you did here, Orrum Steelfist.’ The admiral placed a hand on Orrum’s unhurt shoulder. ‘You were a hero today, lass. And you’ll be getting an extra share of the loot for it, as the Kharadron Code demands. Speaking of which, let’s see what we’ve got here, shall we?’

Kraglan turned away and started to pace around the vaulted chamber, examining the piles of gold and artefacts that sat against skull-encrusted walls, wiping gore from them as she lifted them. She muttered to herself, pulling items from heaps and setting them to one side or tossing them away to roll across the floor and rest in pools of blood. She looked over her shoulder.

‘Orrum, have a look through. You’re getting first pick here. Make the most of it.’

Orrum stepped towards a large chest in the chamber’s corner, far from the shower of viscera, and started to root through it. It was one of many in the immense space, haphazardly dumped among the towering piles of gold that reached far up towards the vaulted ceiling, whose panels showed scenes of vile, murderous deeds that made Orrum’s stomach turn. The chest contained coins from a variety of long-extinct empires. They would end up melted down and used for other purposes, the worth of the raw metal greater than their historical value. She turned her attention to the more esoteric items, which included weapons, shields and suits of armour built for beings of various shapes and sizes. There was jewellery galore, rings and necklaces and bracelets set with all manner of precious stones. She set some aside. They could be useful in future, if she chose to court a companion.

Other Kharadrons were arriving now and the chamber was becoming full of activity. Some were helping the wounded, others gathering the bodies of the slain, and more than a few were looting the vault. Orrum felt she should be making herself useful, but in the absence of orders, she continued to rummage through the treasure as the admiral had commanded.

She opened a chest which was full of gems of different hues and cuts. She lifted one of them, an emerald roughly the size of her fist, and winced as the wound to her shoulder ached with the effort. The pain was swiftly forgotten as something else caught her eye. Away from the iridescent gleam of the gemstones, there was something in the chest of dull brass. Curious, she tossed away the gem, then reached in and grabbed it, pulling it out and holding it up to examine, ignoring the ache in her shoulder. It was head-sized, perfectly spherical and marked with runes that were clearly duardin in origin.

‘What is that?’

Orrum turned and snapped a salute to Admiral Kraglan, whose gaze was fixed on the brass sphere.

‘I found it in a chest, admiral. It’s duardin, but I don’t know what it might be.’

‘May I see it?’

Orrum handed it over, and the admiral examined it, turning it over in her hands. The magnascope that covered the left eye lens on her helmet whirred and clicked as it focused on the markings. Kraglan was muttering to herself, Orrum realised. Clearly she saw significance in this find. Eventually, the admiral tore her gaze from the sphere and back to Orrum.

‘Do you, Orrum Steelfist, wish to claim this artefact as part of your share of the salvage under the various precepts and tenets of the Kharadron Code?’ The language was formal, and Orrum realised that something was happening here that she might not fully understand. She paused, hesitating.

‘Say yes, lass,’ Kraglan urged. ‘It’ll go well for you.’

‘Yes, admiral, I hereby claim this item.’

Kraglan nodded slowly. Behind her, other Kharadrons had stopped what they were doing, and were watching the traditional negotiation unfold.

‘Under the artycles and codicils of the Kharadron Code, I, as is my right as admiral and commander of this expedition, override your claim and take this item as my own. In compensation, you shall receive…’ She paused, as if calculating. The code gave an admiral considerable leeway in situations like this to determine exactly what an act of valour or sacrifice was worth, and how to compensate stakeholders for seized items. ‘Four additional shares over and above that to which you were already entitled. Do you wish to challenge this counterclaim?’

Orrum was staggered. She wasn’t the only one, judging by the gasps from some of the duardin around. Four additional shares would see her wealthier than any privateer could hope to expect from their first raid. Whatever this sphere was, the admiral wanted it badly. She swallowed, and considered challenging, but thought better of it. Whatever use Kraglan had for the artefact, Orrum could definitely find more use for a mighty haul of treasure. She shook her head.

‘No, admiral. I renounce my claim to the artefact, and accept your generous offer of compensation.’ Her voice caught on the word generous, and she thought she saw Kraglan nod slightly as it did. Around them, there was a susurrus of voices as the gathered Kharadrons joined Orrum in wondering why this unassuming brass sphere was of such value to their admiral.

‘Then our negotiations conclude, Orrum Steelfist. Honour to you and your family.’ Kraglan bowed.

‘And to yours, admiral,’ said Orrum, bowing back, once again trying hard to ignore the pain in her shoulder.

‘Thank you, lass,’ said Kraglan, lowering her voice and gripping Orrum’s arm. ‘I won’t forget this. And if this wee sphere is what I think, and does what I reckon it can do, there might be an even bigger prize in it for you… if I can count on you to join me, come what may.’

Orrum sensed there was more to this moment than there seemed. It felt like what she said here would determine the course of her future, and lead her down paths she could not yet foresee, and into danger she could scarce imagine. And yet, there was only one answer she could give.

‘You have my oath, admiral.’

Kraglan’s grip tightened for a moment, then she let go.

‘You need that shoulder seen to, lass.’ She turned to her second-in-command, Zaff Norgrim, captain of the fleet’s flagship, who was organising a group of sawbones nearby. ‘Zaff, get young Steelfist’s wound patched up, and get to sorting out exactly how much of this her extra shares will come to. There’s more than enough here to cover it. And Orrum here has earned it.’

She stomped off, leaving Orrum wondering once more exactly what that sphere was – or what it contained – that made it more valuable to Borri Kraglan than a vault full of treasure. The answer, she was sure, would be interesting indeed.

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A Black Library Publication

First published in Great Britain in 2019.
This eBook edition published in 2019 by Black Library, Games Workshop Ltd, Willow Road, Nottingham, NG7 2WS, UK.

Produced by Games Workshop in Nottingham.
Cover illustration by Rafael Teruel.

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