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Reflections in Steel – Extract

A Black Library Publication

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Reflections in Steel

By C. L. Werner

The kick that sent Kenji sprawling was so powerful that teeth cracked when his head slammed against the ground. He struggled to rise, but a boot smashed him down again. He could feel the iron nails of the sole stabbing into his skin. He shuddered as he felt rivulets of his own blood trickling down his back.

All around the youth was calamity. His ears rang with the roar of flames, the anguished screams of the doomed, and the barbarous shouts of the invaders. The smell of smoke filled his nose and the salty taste of blood was in his mouth. His flesh cringed in the heat from the fires that ran rampant all around him. Kyoshima was dying. The town that had withstood the travails of plague and starvation, the depredations of grot wolfriders and feral ghouls, the vile hexes of the witch Baga-Yar, had now been claimed by a catastrophe it couldn’t endure.

Kenji twisted his head and stared up at the man whose boot was planted in his back. He was a terrifying sight. His armour was forged from dark iron and cast into daemonical shapes, so that monstrous faces stared from each sabaton and the breastplate was the snarling visage of an inhuman fiend. The helm that encased the invader’s head sported great horns of bronze and the mask resembled a leering skull. The exposed mouth beneath the mask was twisted into a savage snarl, displaying teeth that had been filed down to sharp points. Upon his pale chin, the warrior sported a tattoo, a crimson stain that depicted an eight-pointed sigil.

Clenched in the invader’s upraised hand was a brutal axe, its edge serrated and its back sporting a hooked spike. Blood already stained the weapon and Kenji cried out when some of it dripped down onto him. He knew it was the blood of his family, slaughtered like animals by the raider.

Fury blazed up inside Kenji. He struggled to free himself, but all he managed to do was writhe helplessly under the warrior’s boot. His efforts amused the raider, provoking ugly laughter that was more like the yapping of a hyena than a sound that should rise from a human throat. The cruel eyes that stared from the sockets of the skull-mask glared down at the youth. Kenji knew that the next moment would see his own life extinguished by the bloody axe.

Kenji turned his head so that he wouldn’t see the descending blow. His eyes fixated upon a shining object, a mote of brilliance in the grimy clamour of battle. He could see himself reflected in the polished steel of a broad-bladed sword with his captor standing over him. The axe started to swing downwards, sweeping for his head.

A voice barked out and the axe faltered in its strike. Kenji couldn’t understand the harsh, guttural language, but he knew whatever had been said was some sort of command. He lifted his gaze from the reflective steel to the one who bore it in his hand.

The swordsman was another of the barbaric invaders. Taller and more broadly built than the warrior who had Kenji beneath his boot, he had dusky skin marked by innumerable tattoos and scars. His armour was a ruddy colour and sported many thorny spikes across its vambraces and greaves. The breastplate was festooned with nails, from which dangled an assortment of grisly trophies: shrivelled ears and severed fingers, desiccated eyeballs and leathery tongues. The helm the raider wore was dark in colour, seeming to shift between deep green and pitch-black, and was cast into the image of a wolf’s head with the curled horns of a ram. The eyes that gazed from behind the helm’s mask were cold and grey, characterised by an intensity that struck Kenji like an electric shock.

The wolf-helmed raider called again to Kenji’s captor. Again, the youth knew from the tone it was some sort of command. This time the axeman bristled with defiance. He spat on the boy and snarled a vicious oath. Kenji could see in the reflective steel that the butchering axe was being raised again.

In a blur of motion, the wolf-helmed raider sprang at the axeman. The shining sword flashed forward in a strike that was like lightning. Kenji felt blood spray down on him. He saw the serrated axe fall to the ground – along with the arm that held it. He glanced up to see the warrior clutching at the stump of his severed arm. The next moment, the raider’s sword came sweeping down, cleaving through both the skull-mask and the skull behind it. The pressure on Kenji’s back vanished as his captor collapsed into the dirt. He felt a murderous elation as he watched the killer of his family slaughtered like a dumb brute, and savoured the sight of the barbarian’s boots kicking in a final death spasm.

The youth expected to feel the bite of the raider’s sword and tried to brace himself for the blow. Instead the swordsman just stared down at him. Kenji shivered when he saw that despite the brutal killing of the axeman, the polished blade was unmarked by blood and remained as bright and clear as when he’d first seen his reflection in it. He didn’t need to be told that there was sorcery within the weapon. To die upon normal steel was one thing, but to die on an enchanted blade was another. The people of Kyoshima had always believed a victim of witchcraft forfeited their soul to the thing that killed them.

Death, however, wasn’t the intention of the wolf-helmed raider. For the third time Kenji heard the barbarian’s guttural voice call out. In answer, a dark-skinned man came rushing forward. He was shorter than the other invaders Kenji had seen, and wore less armour. His face was horribly scarred and his lips had been pierced by slivers of bone, so that it seemed he had two sets of teeth. His head was shaved and when he turned to speak with the raider, Kenji could see that a skull had been painted onto the back.

The two invaders spoke for only a moment, then the wolf pointed at Kenji. Only at that moment did it occur to the youth to try to flee, such was the disorder of his thoughts. It was already too late, however. The bald barbarian sprang at him and wrestled him back to the ground even as he tried to rise. He pinned Kenji under his knees and snapped a thick iron collar around his neck. While the youth struggled to break away, the invader shouted at him, his voice shifting in tone and cadence. Finally, there came not gibberish but words Kenji could understand.

The barbarian noted at once the difference that came upon Kenji. ‘You understand me?’ he repeated, a note of cruel laughter punctuating his words. ‘It is foolish to fight now. The time for that is over. You belong to us now.’

The slaver rose to his feet and pulled the chain fastened to Kenji’s collar. The youth gasped until he managed to pick himself up. He glared at the grinning barbarian. He swung around and started towards the axe lying on the ground. As he did, he noted the wolf-helmed warrior still watching him.

Kenji froze with his fingers just inches from the axe. His moment of hesitation gave the slaver the chance to react. The barbarian jerked on the chain and pulled Kenji back. He drew a ripple-bladed knife from his belt, but a word from the swordsman stayed his hand.

‘You’re fortunate,’ the slaver hissed in Kenji’s ear. ‘Gharm has told me to let you live.’ The barbarian chuckled darkly as the wolf-helmed raider walked off into the smoke of Kyoshima’s burning homes. ‘Don’t think that means I am to keep you alive.’ He tugged on the chain again. ‘You’re plunder now, thrall of Kravoth’s Reavers. You’ll survive only as long as you’re useful. When your strength fails, we’ll grind you up into meal for our horses.’

Kenji glared into the slaver’s eyes. ‘I’ll live long enough to see you dead,’ he vowed.

The slaver twisted the chain in his hand and forced Kenji closer. ‘Many have made me that same promise, boy. I’ve left their bones for the vultures. Don’t think Gharm will protect you. Strange moods come upon him sometimes, but they pass just as quickly. You’re nothing but a whim of the moment. When the moment passes… you belong to me.’

With practised ease the slaver drew Kenji’s hands into a set of bronze manacles. Chuckling darkly, he led the youth through the burning town and past the triumphant barbarians despoiling its homes.

Kyoshima was dead. Kenji wondered how long it would be before he joined the rest of his people in Nagash’s underworlds. How long he could depend on the whim of the Champion with the enchanted sword to keep him alive.

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