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Heir of Shadows – Extract

A Black Library Publication

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Heir of Shadows

Taylor Roberts

Anhil snuck back into camp at the grey dawn, keeping her head lowered to the ground and walking with purpose. She tried to show confidence to throw all suspicion off her, but her heart misgave her.

As it happened, few raised their heads to look as she returned. Though they had become accustomed to her over the past few weeks, none of them were likely to greet her as a friend.

The camp was small and paltry, the result of a battle Anhil knew little about. The crusade itself was shattered, its leader, Bade, addled and distant. She would have a job convincing him that she was real today, let alone to listen to her words. Whatever had happened, none of them would speak of it to her, yet she knew it had been a strife mighty enough to claim the entirety of their Stormcast contingent and leave their metaliths in ruins somewhere beneath the Gloaming Cliffs. It had wounded the Sigmarites more deeply than in body alone, and Bade in particular.

With that, at least, she could empathise. She was well aware of the figure she cut as she made her way through the camp, limping and stooped as she was. It had been a long journey while she was tied to the crusaders, and it irritated the old scar on her back.

The Dawners had camped by a black river, and Bade’s tent was pitched near an oxbow. Someone was cooking food, a few of their fellows huddled around them, and the smell tempted Anhil despite herself.

She straightened up as she felt their gazes fall on her. Though their attention in her moment of weakness rankled, their eyes were curiously neutral. They did not even seem surprised to see her before they returned to their food.

As she pushed through the tent flaps, someone stood to greet her. Her presence was immediate – too close, in fact – and Anhil felt her hand twitch towards her long dagger.

Bade’s daughter was human, like most of the Dawners were. Despite that, her face was slender and handsome, and every time they met, Anhil had the creeping feeling she was looking at an aelf-child. The girl stared up at Anhil with the fire of authority.

‘Greetings, witch aelf,’ she said. ‘Did you come to speak to my father?’

‘There is something he must know about our upcoming course,’ Anhil replied. Only a tinge of guilt coloured her words. ‘Is he here?’

With a shuddering groan, what Anhil had taken to be a pile of old clothes shifted in the corner of the tent. Bade was seated on cushions, tended to by humans whose names Anhil struggled to remember. They looked at her curiously. She could not make out what they were thinking. Most of Bade’s crusade still wore the armour of Excelsis from whence they came, and those were joined later by regiments from the free city of Gaolintar closer to the realmgate on the Ulguan side, whose remnants were still unbowed. Despite this, none of them had the proud bearing that she had come to expect of soldiers of the God-King. They were distant, and seemingly as empty as their founder. Was it grief? Anhil couldn’t say.

His daughter rushed over, quick to join Bade as he awoke.

‘Who is it?’ he asked weakly.

‘Our witch aelf escort, Father,’ the daughter said, kneeling next to him. ‘She has something to say about our current course.’

The old man stared blankly at Anhil. She was sure that Bade had no idea what their current course even was. After the many losses his expedition had suffered, including most of his family, he had taken little interest in anything.

Her gaze shifted to the daughter. Even if she had nothing to worry about from the father, the girl was sharp. She would have to choose her words carefully.

She sat by Bade and smiled, with some effort. ‘Thank you for receiving me,’ she said. ‘I have become aware of enemies to the north. Skaven.’

‘They endure the shadows?’ the daughter asked. ‘Why were we not informed of this sooner?’

‘Let her speak, Mistra,’ Bade murmured, looking at the ground.

A fleeting image of anger passed across Mistra’s face, quickly mastered. Still, Anhil felt uneasy looking at her.

‘Members of my enclave informed me of this,’ Anhil continued. Not entirely a lie. ‘Therefore, I propose we go west, towards the coast. We may find better shelter along the way.’

That was what Lasil and Veris had told her the night before. She remembered their smiles, tinged with shadow. You will tell them to go to the sea, they’d said. You will ease their concerns with lies.

What exactly drove these Sigmarites on, what they were looking for, was a mystery to Anhil. If it were her, she would have long since turned in search of a realmgate to a less perilous realm to regroup. Even a Daughter of Khaine understood the value of strategic retreat. Yet the Dawners pushed onward, deeper into Ulgu, hoping to establish a new bastion of Sigmar without enough people to fill one of Ghur’s tinier villages. It baffled her.

Well. Soon enough, it would no longer be her problem.

Mistra looked thoughtful. She turned, brushing Bade’s cheek with her fingers. ‘What do you think, Father?’ she asked softly. She was soothing and gentle to the old man. When Mistra got like this, her voice seemed to belong to someone much older and wiser than her. ‘Shall we change our course, as the aelf suggests?’

To Anhil’s surprise, a change came over the old man. He seemed to regain a portion of his former vigour, his purpose, and when he looked at Anhil she felt as though he was really seeing her.

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Yes, this course seems to me the most prudent option. Tell us where to go and we will follow.’

Again, that faint twinge of regret.

‘You have made the right decision,’ she said, and bowed once to show respect.

She could feel the other Dawners’ gazes boring into her back as she left the tent.

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