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Callis & Toll: The Old Ways – Extract

A Black Library Publication

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Callis & Toll:

The Old Ways

Nick Horth

Armand Callis winced as the marsh strider bucked beneath him. Every time the beast moved, his legs rubbed painfully against the rough hide saddle that was lashed around the creature’s segmented body. They had been travelling for hours, and he still hadn’t got used to the strider’s awkward, rolling gait as it stretched out its six long limbs to balance on the soupy morass beneath them. He sighed as he peered through the gathering fog, hoping to catch sight of their destination looming into view. It was useless. He could barely see more than a few metres ahead.

‘How much farther?’ he shouted.

‘Soon,’ grunted their guide, a wizened old fellow with an expression that could turn milk sour.

Callis’ marsh strider clicked and hissed, before releasing an arcing jet of fluid from its mandibles. On the whole, Callis decided that he preferred horses.

‘Marshpoint is close,’ said Hanniver Toll, mounted upon his own strider to Callis’ left. Beneath his signature wide-brimmed hat, the older man’s face was chapped pink by the cold and had several days’ worth of stubble across his chin. Callis rubbed his own face ruefully. His typically neat and well-groomed moustache was tapering wildly out of control, and a coarse beard itched beneath the scarf wrapped around his mouth.

‘Follow my lead once we arrive,’ said Toll. ‘The feud between the Junicas and the Dezraeds is on the verge of erupting into a full-scale border war.’

‘No wonder,’ muttered Callis. ‘I’d be miserable too, if I lived out here.’

The Brackenmarsh was a featureless expanse of foul-smelling mud and grime that lay to the east of the great city of Excelsis. It was a bubbling pit of slime and weeds that reached to the mouth of the enormous Ulwhyr Forest. They had avoided the winding trade road that led through the marsh to the frontier township, as Toll had wanted to make it to Marshpoint as swiftly as possible. Unfortunately, marsh striders were the only way to cross the fenland – travelling by foot was a sure way of getting yourself drowned or eaten by the primitive beasts that dwelled within its murky depths. Despite their immense size and vicious, barbed forelimbs, the mantis-like beasts were completely docile. Each of their six legs ended in a tangle of thick hairs that spread out across the rippling surface of the water, forming buoyant pads that allowed the striders to skip across the marsh with surprising speed.

‘The disappearance of Adrec Junica has turned a tense situation into a volatile one,’ said Toll. ‘House Junica has long accused the Dezraeds of trying to undermine their trade in silksteel, and now they have an excuse to spill blood.’

‘If that happened, the Freeguilds would not receive their shipments of silksteel.’

Silksteel was a substance woven by arachnids found within the Ulwhyr. Thin and light, it possessed a fearsome tensile strength, meaning that it could be woven into light, padded armour that stopped blades and arrows as surely as steel plate. As Excelsis lacked vast natural deposits of metal, silksteel was vital for outfitting the local regiments. Without it, the already undermanned city guard would find itself under-equipped too.

‘Indeed,’ said Toll, nodding. ‘We’re here to try and neutralise the fray by uncovering whether Lord Junica’s firstborn son was indeed slain by the hands of the Dezraeds, or simply drank too much, stumbled into the marsh and drowned.’

‘Hardly seems like vital work for an agent of the Order of Azyr,’ said Callis. ‘Couldn’t they have sent a detachment from the city guard?’

‘The city guard is stretched parchment-thin as it is,’ said Toll. ‘The battle for Excelsis left the city weak and vulnerable. If it comes under siege again, it will fall. Trade has been severely hampered and the people are ready to riot. Callis, this infighting could be the spark that ignites a full-scale uprising.’ Toll paused. ‘We would have no choice but to set the White Reaper loose. That’s not an outcome I would relish.’

Callis fought off a shudder. He had once come face to face with Lord-Veritant Cerrus Sentanus – the White Reaper of Excelsis – and had barely escaped with his life. If Sentanus was loosed upon the inhabitants of the city, the streets would run with blood.

‘Here,’ growled their guide, pointing one thin finger into the distance. Following his gesture, they could see the lambent glow of torches flickering. Rising up out of the mist like the backbone of some drowned behemoth, a perimeter wall loomed over a short pier of mildewed wood. It was a well-made fortification, as these things went. The wood was smoothed and sanded down to prevent anyone scaling it, and dotted along the line were swivel-mounted arbalests with large, hook-shaped magazines. A great, circular tower loomed above the parapet, and atop the battlements, Callis could see a heavy ballista, aiming out into the gloom.

‘The ones who built this place knew their business,’ Callis said. ‘You’d only require a few men to hold this wall against a horde.’

‘You’re looking at Junica coin,’ said Toll. ‘They employed the most skilled duardin siege-smiths when they built this place. You don’t survive out here, beyond the city’s reach, unless you can defend yourself. Their private armies are larger than many Freeguild regiments. House Dezraed’s included.’

Callis’ eyebrows quipped. ‘I’m surprised that’s allowed.’

‘Both Dezraed and Junica are old Azyr stock. At one time or another, they’ve both had figures on the council of Azyrheim. The men we’re here to see, though, are minor scions of the great houses. Still, they’re powerful figures with a bottomless supply of coin and the ear of the Excelsis council. As long as they pay their tithes and maintain their shipments, the city is content to allow their standing armies.’

As they approached the bank, the marsh striders hauled themselves out of the dank swamp, flicking their long limbs free of foul-smelling weeds.

‘Who passes?’ came a shout from the palisade gatehouse, where a bucket-helmed face peered down at them, silhouetted against the sickly yellow sky. The figure was leaning against a swivel-gun mounted upon the edge of the wall.

‘We are expected,’ shouted Toll, dropping nimbly from the saddle, patting the beast’s chitinous, armour-plated leg affectionately. The thing gave a shrill chirp and lowered its many-eyed head to the mossy earth, loudly slurping at a clump of moss. ‘I am Hanniver Toll, agent of the Order of Ayr. Open the gate.’

Even from a distance away, Callis could see the colour drain from the man’s face.

‘The witch hunter,’ breathed the guard. The figure made a frantic gesture to someone on the other side of the wall, and there was a clanking, grinding sound. Slowly, the great gate began to creak open.

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A Black Library Publication

Published in Great Britain in 2017 by Black Library, Games Workshop Ltd, Willow Road, Nottingham, NG7 2WS, UK.

Produced by Games Workshop in Nottingham.
Banshee illustration by Dave Greco.

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ISBN: 978-1-78572-854-9

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