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Gitslayer – Extract

A Black Library Publication

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Prologue

‘Cretins,’ muttered Gotrek, watching the river belch and hiss in the wake of the Sigmaron Star. They had only set sail an hour ago but the spires of Anvilgard were already fading into the dusk, swallowed by clouds of yellow steam.

‘You sound surprised.’ Maleneth leant on the gunwale and looked out at the charred trees stooping over the river. ‘I thought you’d designated everyone in the realms a cretin.’

His brow bristled. ‘There are degrees.’

Maleneth studied him. His hulking frame was half hidden in the steam. With his knotted tattoos and crest of greasy hair he looked like the sculptures on the riverbank. Brutal and portentous. Like the weather-beaten shoulder of a mountain. There was an ugly magnificence to him that Maleneth pretended not to notice. ‘It was your idea to visit the wretched city,’ she said. ‘If you desire the company of Sigmar’s devoted then why won’t you let me take you to Azyr?’

‘Desire their company? Why would I want to spend time with starry-eyed Sigmar followers?’

Maleneth shook her head. ‘You’d stroll into a burning keep if you thought you could knock heads with someone, but when I talk about the celestial majesty of Azyr, a place where people walk free from the shadow of Chaos, you look like you’re going to explode. It makes no sense. What could be so bad about spending time with people who don’t want to kill us?’ She grimaced and waved back down the river. ‘And look where we end up instead. Wading through the fish markets of Anvilgard. Khaine’s teeth. I’ll never be rid of that stink.’ She sniffed her sleeve. ‘In fact, it seems to be getting worse.’ She looked out at the trees. They seemed to be reaching out to her through the seething mist. ‘The whole jungle’s rank. It’s like a cauldron. Why did you drag me out here? Are you still tormenting yourself with memories of dead friends? Are you still thinking that you can somehow bring them back?’

Gotrek drew himself up to his full height, which still left him looking up at her. ‘The only torment is listening to you.’

‘Without me you’d probably still be in that Fyreslayer lodge.’ She tapped the cold rune in his chest. ‘Without me you wouldn’t have this.’

Gotrek gripped her hand. ‘That’s nothing to boast about.’

She removed her hand from his. ‘You’ve had plenty of chances to be rid of me. You want me around.’

‘Don’t flatter yourself.’ Gotrek was about to say more when the ship juddered, as though run aground.

Captain Verloza was standing a few feet away and she approached them with a nonchalant swagger that made Maleneth’s jaw clench. The woman thought that being master of one boat made her a person of significance and power. If Gotrek had not expressly forbidden it, Maleneth would have taught her a lesson in real power. She was around thirty or forty years old, as far as Maleneth could guess. Humans aged so quickly it barely seemed worth pinning down their age. She was small, wiry and narrow-hipped with skin like scuffed leather. She had a scarred, stubbly scalp and the air of a retired pit fighter. She was oblivious to most forms of danger, was rarely sober, always spoke her mind and had absolutely no respect for authority. Maleneth knew from the moment they met that Gotrek would like her.

‘Apologies,’ said the captain. ‘We don’t usually bounce off every rock. The river must be in one of its playful moods.’

Maleneth looked down at the amber-coloured waves. Steam boiled up from them constantly and there were lights flickering beneath the surface. ‘Is it water?’

Verloza smiled. ‘Were you thinking of going for a paddle?’

Gotrek snorted.

‘No,’ said Verloza, ‘it’s not water. Some say it’s lava but that’s nonsense. The Star has a metal hull, but if this was lava we’d have sunk within half a mile of Anvilgard. My guess is that it’s acid. Either way, it would eat through you in minutes.’ She smirked. ‘I’m sure in the “celestial majesty of Azyr” one can bathe in much prettier rivers.’

Gotrek laughed. ‘You don’t want to know what she bathes in.’ Prior to docking at Anvilgard, they had spent several weeks with the captain, exploring the Charwind Coast, and Gotrek seemed to have decided that Captain Verloza was the one worthwhile person in Aqshy. Maleneth had no doubt that the captain would soon find an excuse to fetch more of the grog she and Gotrek were so partial to.

A deckhand rushed over and whispered in Verloza’s ear.

‘Silt rats,’ said the captain as the boat juddered again.

‘Grungni’s teeth.’ Gotrek stumbled and had to grab the railing. ‘Rats?’

Verloza grinned. ‘We grow ’em big out here. Come and see.’

As they neared the bow of the ship, Maleneth heard the familiar sound of off-key singing. Trachos, their Stormcast Eternal travelling companion, was stomping through the steam, armour glinting as he towered over deckhands, raising his voice to the heavens. Trachos claimed to have some connection to Maleneth’s order, but she was never sure whether to believe him. He had fought several campaigns in the underworlds of Shyish and the experience had left his mind as ragged as his armour. He had seemed unhinged since the day they met him but he had become even more confused over the last few months. Maleneth would not have been surprised to find that he was the cause of the ship’s lurches, but as they came closer, she saw that there was a genuine threat – Verloza’s crew had gathered at the railing, glaives and harpoons pointed at something rising from the acid.

Verloza leapt up onto the gunwale and dangled out into the spray, hanging from the rigging and peering down at the river.

The boat shook again, causing most of the crew to stagger, but Verloza remained where she was, swaying over the hissing currents. She grinned and pointed her harpoon at something near the hull. ‘Here it comes! Ready yourselves.’

Steam billowed up over the railing, causing everyone to gasp and back away. There was a thud as something slammed onto the deck.

As the fumes dissipated Maleneth saw what looked like a statue made of old fish scales and riverweed. This was the source of the smell, she realised, covering her nose. Everyone backed away as the thing moved, raising a brutal-looking club. It rose to its full height, towering over the sailors, and smashed a man to the deck, crushing his skull with a single blow.

Verloza howled, but before she could move, Gotrek strode forwards and punched the thing in the groin. It doubled over, gasping, and Gotrek sliced his axe down, sending the monster’s head thudding across the deck. Acid hissed from the severed neck, causing the deck to steam and smoulder.

Gotrek peered at the corpse. ‘A river troll?’

Verloza frowned, then nodded. ‘I suppose. We call them troggoths. River’s full of ’em.’

She glanced at Trachos, who was still singing, although only to himself now, mumbling the words inside his brutal, impassive helmet.

Trachos caught her gaze and stared at her. ‘The Antiana Gate will hold. Chaos spawn will never enter Azyr.’

Verloza gave Gotrek a confused look. ‘Azyr?’

Gotrek was too busy peering at the dead troggoth to register her question.

Maleneth leant over to Verloza. ‘Trachos fights his own wars. Special ones that happen in his head.’

Before she could say anything else, the boat rocked again and there was an explosion of screams. She whirled around, knives raised, as something heavy thudded down behind her.

Stooped, steam-shrouded shapes clambered into view, seven or eight feet tall and armoured in dripping scales. Their faces were vaguely humanoid but they were so ugly they resembled the grotesques on a fortress wall. They had spikes running down their backs and ears like glistening fins.

Verloza looked shocked. Then she waved her crew forwards. ‘Get in a line! Get those rats off my ship!’ She dropped from the rigging, bounded across the deck and hurled her harpoon into the face of the first monster.

The brute barely registered the wound. It pounded across the deck towards her, trailed by flies, the harpoon jutting from its face. As it ran, it yanked the weapon from its forehead, spilling acid and adding to the stink of fish guts.

It slammed its shoulder into the fore mast, ripped up a large section of the deck and sent the captain tumbling head over heels.

Verloza landed heavily but managed to raise her sword as the troggoth loomed over her.

She had no need to use the blade. The troggoth crashed to the deck as its head rolled away.

Gotrek nodded at Verloza, his axe blade fizzing with acid. ‘I would have paid more for the passage if you’d told me there was entertainment.’

Verloza shook her head. ‘I’ve never seen them attack in these numbers before. Something’s got them all worked up.’

‘This is an idiot magnet,’ said Gotrek, tapping the rune in his chest. ‘And there are a lot of idiots.’

Verloza shrugged. ‘Not to worry. They’re big but there’s nothing between their ears. I can’t see us–’

Before she could finish, more troggoths stomped into view and both crew and passengers found themselves occupied.

As Verloza, Gotrek and the others rushed to attack, Maleneth found herself with her back to the gunwale as a troggoth charged in her direction. She easily sidestepped the mouldering plank it aimed at her head. The troggoth grunted in confusion as it saw her standing at its side with a smile on her face.

The thing looked even more confused as its head lolled against its chest, giving it an upside-down view of the battle, its neck neatly severed by Maleneth’s knives. She backed away as the monster slammed onto the deck.

‘Sigmar’s balls!’ cried Verloza, leaping across the rigging. ‘This must be the whole family.’ She was grinning, but it looked forced. The ship was quickly filling up with troggoths. Maleneth counted at least twenty. Several of Verloza’s crewmen had already been killed. There were bodies on the deck and a few more dissolving in the river. Upstream she saw dozens more troggoths rising from the riverweed, spitting acid and raising weapons.

Maleneth spied the Slayer at the stern of the ship, laughing as he lunged and hacked, charging through the monsters and scattering limbs. She could see by his expression what was happening – he was losing himself to kill-fever. He would soon be oblivious to everything but the pulse hammering in his ears. ‘Gotrek!’ she cried. ‘We should turn back! Look up ahead. There are too many.’

Gotrek swung his axe with even more savagery. ‘There are exactly the right number. This is the first fun I’ve had since reaching this stinking city.’ He looked around, his face a crimson mask, his eye glassy. ‘What say you, captain?’

Verloza was not far from him, surrounded by her crew, fighting furiously but being driven back towards the railings. She tried to match his grin but she was clearly struggling. There were now a dozen dead crewmembers lying on the deck. ‘I’ve never seen so many,’ she managed to gasp. ‘Perhaps we should turn back.’

‘Bugger that.’ Gotrek headbutted a troggoth so hard he toppled a whole pile of them. Then he climbed the heap, beheaded the monsters and charged towards Verloza.

Before he could reach her, another mob of troggoths tumbled over the gunwale and blocked his way, raining blows on the Slayer with makeshift clubs and salvaged weapons. Gotrek parried, cursed, then pointed at a shape in the river. ‘We’ll make a stand on that island. Gotrek Gurnisson does not flee from river trolls.’

Verloza nodded, but she was drenched in blood and acid and more of her crew were falling every second.

Trachos strode through the carnage swinging his hammers with calm precision, his chin raised proudly as a hymn boomed from his helmet. Despite the tears in his buckled armour he smashed through the giant creatures with as much ease as Gotrek, cracking skulls to the rhythm of his song.

Maleneth leapt onto the rigging and hurled a fistful of barbs. The blades were poison-laced and they hissed as they sliced into the monsters’ hides, releasing lethal toxins. As more thundered towards her, she raced across the rigging towards the prow of the ship to look at the island Gotrek had mentioned. The Sigmaron Star was rushing towards it, caught in the current. Gotrek was right that they would soon be grounded. And troggoths were rising from the shallows all around it. Fifty, maybe more, all preparing to storm the ship.

‘This is madness!’ She looked back towards the Slayer. ‘We have to turn this ship around!’

‘Captain?’ Gotrek looked over at Verloza. ‘Are you with me?’

Verloza’s face was grey and her blows were growing weaker. Half her crew were injured or dead. She shook her head.

‘Bah! Leave it to the Slayer!’ Gotrek smashed his way to the ship’s wheel, steering the vessel straight for the island. ‘I was killing trolls when your ancestors were living in caves.’

The ship juddered as it hit the island and the fighting paused as people fell or struggled to right themselves.

Gotrek barrelled through the reeling shapes and leapt over the prow, plunging through the steam and landing on the shore. He had started climbing to the summit when the island shook, hurling him onto his back and sending him sliding down towards the acid.

The tremor was so violent that the Sigmaron Star slid back into the river, pulling away from the island.

‘Earthquake?’ muttered Maleneth, hurling her barbs and dropping lightly to the deck. Combatants were staggering in every direction, struggling to land blows as the ship lurched.

The troggoths that had been gathering around the island began clambering onto the ship, rushing at Verloza’s crew.

‘Get back over here!’ howled Maleneth. ‘They’ve tricked you! They just wanted you out of the way!’

‘Rubbish!’ Gotrek stood and charged back towards the ship, but it was too late for him to make the leap. ‘They don’t have the brains to play tricks.’ The Slayer paced around on the island as it continued shifting beneath him.

Then the river exploded, hurling geysers of acid and steam into the air and hiding the island from sight.

Maleneth struggled to stay on her feet as the ship rocked and troggoths attacked her from every direction. She looked for the captain but the scene was too chaotic to make anything out clearly. Figures were lurching through the spray, howling as monsters piled onto the deck. ‘Verloza?’ she cried.

The columns of acid fell away to reveal something even more disturbing. The island Gotrek was standing on was rising from the river and, as tonnes of weed and mud fell away, Maleneth saw that rather than being a lump of rock, it was the head of a serpent – a snake five times the size of the Sigmaron Star. It towered over the trees as it uncoiled, shrugging off rocks and acid.

Gotrek howled with a mixture of rage and amusement, clinging on to its head.

The serpent hissed in response, fixing Gotrek with an eye that was as big as the Slayer. The hiss was so loud that Maleneth thought the sound might split her skull. The distraction was enough for her to miss her footing and one of the troggoths managed to punch the side of her head. She pinwheeled through the air and slammed into the side of Verloza’s cabin. Blood filled her eyes. Pain lanced through her cheek.

We’re not dying here, said a voice in Maleneth’s mind, emanating from the amulet at her neck. Not at the hands of some walking sewage. Get up. Do something. The voice belonged to Maleneth’s former mistress, a Khainite aelf she’d murdered years earlier. Maleneth wore her soul as a battle trophy, preserved in a vial of blood at the heart of the amulet. She carried her mistress with her for the sheer joy of tormenting her, but on occasion, her barbed comments were actually useful, spurring her into action.

Maleneth staggered to her feet in time to sidestep another punch. The cabin wall collapsed under the blow and her attacker fell through the wreckage.

Maleneth leapt onto the troggoth’s back and climbed back onto the rigging. Troggoths tried to follow but only succeeded in wrecking more of the ship. The Sigmaron Star was rocking with increasing violence and, in her peripheral vision, she could see the serpent still rising from the river, shedding torrents of water, but she had more urgent matters to deal with. She took a lash from her belt and spat blood onto it. As the blood splashed across the leather she whispered a prayer, invoking Khaine’s presence. To her delight, she felt a stab of agony through her hand.

He’s here.

Maleneth nodded, baring her teeth in a bloody grin. ‘For the Bloody-Handed One.’ The whip coiled and writhed in her grip, struggling to free itself as an unnatural darkness washed over the battle, casting twisted shadows across the deck.

Maleneth whispered another prayer, then hurled the whip into the scrum beneath her feet. It thrashed as it fell then rippled away through the fight, lashing out as it tumbled through the troggoths. They tried to defend themselves but the whip snaked through them at incredible speed, slicing through necks and eyes.

Maleneth allowed herself a few seconds to enjoy the spectacle, then climbed higher and looked back at the island. ‘Khaine’s teeth,’ she muttered. ‘He’s using the rune.’

He said he’d never use it again.

‘What choice does he have? That thing’s half snake, half mountain.’ Gotrek looked like an ember smouldering in a heap of ash. Maleneth’s spell had plunged the valley into darkness but the serpent was lit up by the infernal glow radiating from Gotrek’s chest. The enormous creature was tightening around Gotrek, attempting to crush him. It looked like it had caught a flame. Gotrek was barely visible in the blaze, but Maleneth could hear him roaring as he struggled to break free.

‘He’s giving in to the rune,’ she muttered. ‘He’s going to let it–’

There was another explosion.

The serpent hissed and fell backwards, sending waves crashing against the Sigmaron Star. Maleneth gripped the rigging as the whole valley shuddered. Rocks and trees tumbled down the riverbank, kicking up spray and noise.

Gotrek leapt at the serpent’s head, his axe and chest burning.

The snake opened its mouth revoltingly wide but Gotrek swiped his axe to the right and cut its lower jaw away, sending it crashing down into the river. The fire in Gotrek’s chest burned brighter and flooded into the runic tattoos that covered his skin. He hacked and hacked again, cleaving chunks of snake flesh and surrounding himself in gouts of acid. The snake swayed then fell, plunging straight towards the Sigmaron Star.

There was an explosion of acid and sparks as the snake crashed into the deck.

Maleneth was hurled backwards by the impact and hit her head as she landed, feeling a sharp pain run down her spine. The strength went from her legs, and as the ship began listing onto its side, she slid across the bloody deck, crashing into the mast.

Gotrek pounded through the carnage, dealing out blows with his axe and howling a war cry. The snake was dead, sprawled across the deck of the lurching ship, but Gotrek showed no sign of relenting. He was hacking at the ship itself, rending metal and oak as he ripped through the cabins. People were screaming and running, diving for cover, but Maleneth could not move, mesmerised by the intensity of Gotrek’s rage. There was no thought in his eye, just dazzling, untrammelled fury.

‘He’s going to kill us all,’ she whispered as the ship crumpled before his wrath.

There was another blast, so violent that Maleneth lost her grip. Her head bounced painfully on the deck and she lost consciousness.

Wake up.

Maleneth lay there for a moment, enjoying the pleasant sensation of warmth playing over her skin. ‘Not yet,’ she muttered. The act of speaking sent a splash of pain across her skull. ‘Gotrek,’ she gasped, sitting up. She was on the riverbank, half sunk in the mud. A dozen feet away, a piece of the Sigmaron Star’s deck was slowly dissolving in the acid. Flames licked across the wreckage, lighting up the mounds of bodies that were lying all around her – troggoths mostly, but also some humans, heaped in piles and shifting in the current. Their flesh had melted away, leaving little more than gore-stained skeletons, and each time the river lapped over them, a little more of the remains disintegrated.

Where’s the rune?

Maleneth stood, unleashing several more explosions of pain, and looked down the valley. There was no sign of the serpent, or Gotrek. Then she realised that the serpent was there – it was sprawled in the river, half sunk, looking like a chain of islands. ‘He did it.’ She looked around at all the dead troggoths. ‘We did it.’

But where is the rune?

‘Gotrek will be around.’ She wiped some of the filth from her face, looking through the smoke. ‘He’ll be celebrating. With ale.’ As Maleneth tried to reassure her mistress, she could not help noticing that there were no sounds of celebration. She began picking her way through the bodies, keeping an eye out for signs of movement. A few crewmembers were still alive but their flesh was melting fast where the river had touched it. In a few more minutes they would be dead. Some of them called out to her for help as she passed, but she rolled her eyes and strode on, looking for the Slayer. After a victory like this he would have a thirst on him. If she didn’t intercede quickly she would be stuck here for days as he drank his way through the ship’s cargo. The thought of the ship made her realise that the Sigmaron Star was no more. Gotrek’s rampage had sent the whole vessel to the riverbed.

She headed away from the melting piece of deck, marching through whirling steam as she headed upriver in the direction of the dead serpent. Perhaps he would still be nearby, gloating over his kill.

‘Maleneth.’ Trachos’ voice echoed through the smoke and it took her a moment to locate him. He was back near the piece of deck she had just walked away from.

‘Did you get me to the shore?’ she asked.

‘Yes.’

She nodded. ‘I thought so. Gotrek would have left me to melt, wouldn’t he?’

As was often the case, the aftermath of a battle seemed to give Trachos a moment of clarity. He replied clearly, with no trace of the madness that usually plagued him. ‘He would not have known you, Witchblade. He was too far gone. He did not know me either.’

‘Have you seen him?’

He pointed the Slayer out, and her heart sank as she saw him. He was sitting on another piece of wreckage, his massive shoulders rounded and slumped. Damn, she thought, he’s already drunk.

Trachos knelt down by a dying sailor, speaking to him in gentle tones. Maleneth shook her head in disbelief. Whatever Sigmar had meant to forge Trachos into, it was not this. At some point in his past he had fallen below the standards he set himself, so now he was tediously pious, seeking ways to assuage his guilt by helping people who should be helping themselves. Usually to the sound of an atonal hymn. She ignored him and headed on towards the Slayer.

There were bodies melting all around him, humans mostly, and the piece of burning wreckage threw him into silhouette as she approached from behind.

‘All praise the Slayer,’ she said. ‘Victorious again. Did you–?’

Her words stalled as she saw his face.

Gotrek’s expression was black. He was staring at the mud with such ferocity that Maleneth half expected it to catch alight. She had seen him sink into these moods before. They could last for weeks.

‘You won!’ She waved at the dead serpent and the troggoth corpses. ‘What in the name of the gods can you be angry about now?’

Gotrek said nothing, but Maleneth noticed that he was staring at one corpse in particular. There was little left to distinguish it, but Maleneth saw from a scrap of clothing that it was Captain Verloza. She laughed. ‘Don’t tell me you’re grieving. Not over a buck-toothed fishwife? You’re a Slayer. Slaying things is your job.’

Gotrek turned his withering gaze on her. She resisted the urge to back away, but any further comments stalled on her lips.

The Slayer’s muscles were as taut as his stare. Maleneth realised she was one word away from triggering violence. She sat down near him, wracking her brains for something soothing to say. ‘They were ugly and stupid, Gotrek. Does it matter if they’re dead?’

His jaw clenched. Maleneth sensed she had not struck the right tone.

She licked her lips and thought carefully. ‘You were trying to protect them, weren’t you? Is that right? In which case is it your fault they didn’t survive?’

‘I killed them. I sank their ship.’

Maleneth found Gotrek’s attitude peculiar even by his standards. ‘These people ply this river all the time. They know the risks. They could have–’

‘Verloza wanted to turn back.’ Gotrek glanced at his axe, blood-drenched and lying in the mud. ‘I was only thinking of myself.’

‘When do you think of anyone else? Apart from that dead poet you always carp on about. This is a victory, Gotrek. Celebrate it.’

He spat. ‘Tripe. These realms are so damned skewed they’ve dragged me to your level. I’m not some murdering aelf.’ He kicked the nearest corpse, splashing acid into the flames. ‘This isn’t victory. This is slaughter. I’ve behaved more like a dim-witted greenskin than a proud son of the Everpeak.’ Gotrek frowned and his face was so ridged with scars that it seemed to collapse, like boulders grinding against each other.

Maleneth felt a cold chill of premonition, guessing where the Slayer’s mind was headed. She spoke quickly, trying to steer his thoughts in a new direction. ‘We need to get back to the city. There could be more troggoths out here. If you’ve lost your love of–’

‘It’s the rune.’

Maleneth shook her head, but before she could speak, Gotrek continued. ‘It is changing me.’

‘It’s not the damned rune. How many times have you told me that Slayers seek ever-bigger foes to pit themselves against? A lot of times. I’ve learned a lot more information about Slayers than I will ever need and I know that this is not unusual. You said you’ve hunted every kind of daemon, drake and greenskin.’ She waved at the dead serpent that was slowly sinking from view. ‘This is nothing new.’

He stared at Verloza’s remains. ‘I sank their ship. I killed them. And these were good people. They were going about their lives in the best way they could. There’s no honour in this.’

Maleneth felt like striking him. ‘What does it matter? They were nobodies. They were nothing.’

‘What would you know about it? What would you know of honour? Of pride? Of decency? Of anything? You say you serve Sigmar but you’re as mealy-mouthed as any other aelf. I’m a dawi. Do you understand? A dawi. My honour is my life and without it I’m nothing. I didn’t swear my Slayer oath to bring shame on my ancestors, to bring shame on the memory of Karaz-a-Karak.’ He glared at his slab-like fists. ‘I’m the last. The last of my kind. If I can’t uphold my ancestors’ honour then who can?’ He punched the rune. ‘This thing’s poisoning me. Making me a savage.’ He stood, grabbed his axe from the mud and pointed it at the sky. ‘Well you picked the wrong dwarf! I’m Gotrek Gurnisson! Not some plaything of the gods! I’m no bloody savage!’ He stomped through the wreckage, hacking chunks from it and surrounding himself in a storm of sparks.

‘Who could call you savage?’ said Maleneth with a raised eyebrow, but she kept her voice low.

Gotrek spent the next few minutes attacking the riverbank, then turned to face Maleneth. He was silhouetted by flames, his face in shadow, but he was shaking and she could hear the fury in his voice. ‘This thing is coming out, aelf. I won’t have it in my chest any more. I won’t be ruled by it. Someone in these realms must have an ounce of brains. I’ll find them. I’ll set them to work on it. I’ll not rest until it’s gone.’

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A Black Library Publication

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* 10. Any failure by Black Library to exercise its rights under this license for whatever reason shall not be in any way deemed to be a waiver of its rights, and in particular, Black Library reserves the right at all times to terminate this license in the event that you breach clause 2 or clause 3.