Contents

Cover

Flight of the Kharadron – Extract

Warhammer Adventures

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Prologue

Seven months ago…

The big man crouched beneath the awning of the apothecary’s stall, fixing Alish with a hard stare. His name was Crusher and his red cloak marked him as a member of the Scarlet Shadow, the most feared gang in the city of Lifestone. He had a sword on his belt, a knife in his boot and a wart on his nose the size of a fist. Alish couldn’t stop staring at it.

‘Now listen,’ he said, scratching his nose self-consciously. ‘You stay right here. I’m off to buy the big man a tusker steak for his supper, and I don’t want you getting any ideas.’

‘I wouldn’t,’ Alish said, still transfixed by the wart. ‘Get any, I mean. Ideas.’

She was telling the truth – she had no plans to run away. The Shadow might be a pack of brutes, but at least with them she got food and shelter and protection. She didn’t have to live on the streets like the other orphans she’d seen hanging around.

Crusher marched away through the quiet market and Alish turned back to the stall, inspecting the goods on offer. There was bloodmoss from the swamps of Quogmia and bladeroot from the haunted forests beyond the Everlight River. There were caskets of quick spice from the city of Hammerhal, and even a small jar of blackpowder that the storekeeper claimed came all the way from Chamon, the Realm of Metal. Alish wanted badly to buy it, but she knew her masters would never allow it. The Scarlet Shadow gave her a certain amount of independence to pick the materials she needed for her inventions, but there were limits to how much she could spend. Still, she could only imagine the bang it would make.

A shadow fell over her. Had Crusher returned already? But when she turned she saw another man standing there, older, taller and much thinner. He wore a broad-brimmed black hat and a long cloak, and there were two children with him – a muscular, red-haired girl and a short, shifty-looking boy, lurking in the shadows.

‘Hello, Alish,’ the man said, and his eyes twinkled. ‘My name is Vertigan. We’d like to talk to you.’

As the children stared at her, Alish felt a strange tingling in her wrist. She tugged her sleeve down, hiding the black mark on her skin. She’d heard all the rumours about this old man – folks called him the Shadowcaster; they said he bewitched people and carried them away to the Arbour, that old ruined palace on the hill.

‘Leave me alone,’ she said. ‘I don’t know you, and you don’t know me.’

‘I know more than you think,’ he said. ‘I know your name, and I know that on your wrist you bear the mark of Hysh, the Realm of Light. I know you live with the gang who did away with your parents, I know they use you to make weapons for them and I know it’s a terrible waste of your talents. You should be helping people, Alish, not hurting them.’

‘I never hurt anyone,’ she said defensively. ‘What the Shadow choose to do with the things I make is their choice, not mine.’

Vertigan sighed. ‘If that’s what you tell yourself, I don’t blame you for it. But you can’t hide from the truth forever, Alish. You need to face your responsibilities. You need to see the damage you’re doing. We can help you find your true purpose.’

She turned her back. ‘Get away,’ she said. ‘You don’t know what my life’s like, you don’t get to say what I should do. I’ll make my own decisions, thank you very m–’

‘Who are you talking to?’

Alish spun round in surprise. Crusher stood over her, frowning. He had a tusker steak over one shoulder and he’d smeared some sort of pinkish substance on his nose – she suspected it was meant to disguise the wart, but all it did was make it stand out.

But there was no sign of the Shadowcaster, or the children. They’d vanished into the crowd.

Alish shrugged. ‘Talking to myself, I suppose.’

Her workshop was tucked away in the third basement of the gang’s hideout, a disused storehouse in the old industrial quarter of the city. Most of the buildings here were abandoned – Lifestone had once been a thriving place, she’d heard, but those times were long gone. The only ones making any money nowadays were rat-catchers, funeral parlours and criminals like the Scarlet Shadow.

She studied the crossbow she’d been working on, holding it up in the flickering lantern light. If she could just find a way to trim a little bit of extra weight, it might be possible to fire it one-handed. Now that would make her masters happy.

She could hear a group of them in the armoury above, their boots clumping on the boards. They were getting ready for a mission – she’d heard Crusher and one of the others discussing it as they locked her in after the trip to the market. They would come back late at night, rowdy and raucous, and she’d lie awake wondering what awful things they’d done with the weapons she’d crafted.

She thought of the old man in the market, his words echoing in her head. Face your responsibilities… See the damage you’re doing. Suddenly, she made a decision.

Getting out of her room wasn’t difficult; there was a loose board in the wall, she’d done it countless times. She stole up the stairway just as the gang were leaving, twelve of them striding out into the night. The moon was high so Alish had no trouble following them, slipping from shadow to shadow along the silent street. It helped that the men made quite a racket, laughing and bickering, strapping on their armour as they walked.

But as they left the narrow streets of the lower city and moved up into the tradesman’s district, the group began to fall silent. Alish dropped back, creeping on tiptoes as they crossed a wide street lined with bare trees, entering a courtyard with a temple on the near side, a huge bronze hammer standing in front of it like a statue.

Suddenly she knew where they were going. Across the square she could see a high, curved wall, the base lined with stone arches. Beside every arch was a stone figure, chiselled in the likeness of a warrior who had fought and died in the now derelict arena.

The gang ducked into one of the arches and Alish followed, slipping along a brick-lined tunnel. It forked and she listened for their footsteps, taking the right-hand way. Soon she could hear voices, and she crept into the open, holding her breath.

The bowl-shaped arena brimmed with shadows. Stone benches rose steeply on either side, scattered with fallen statues and masonry. The combat floor was entirely dark, but squinting ahead Alish could see figures waiting on the sand, their pack animals snorting in the night-time cold. The men moved towards them, and Alish heard a shout of greeting.

She slid closer, ducking behind the benches. She could hear them clearly – Crusher and a gruff-voiced man. No, not a man – a Duardin, one of the dwarf-folk. His fellows hung back; ten or twelve stocky, thickly bearded figures, four mules and a pair of rickety carts piled high with goods.

‘I know we agreed eighty,’ Crusher was saying, ‘but things are different now. Fifty’s the best we can do.’

The Duardin snorted. ‘But that’s robbery. This is flawless craftsmanship, some of these pieces have been in our family for generations. We’re leaving Lifestone, there’s no way to make a decent living here any more. And we need that money if we’re going to get to Hammerhal. I won’t have my youngbeards starve on the road.’

Crusher shrugged. ‘No need for the sob story. We’ve made our offer, take it or leave it.’

The Duardin growled. ‘Where’s Stonejaw? He’s the one who made this bargain.’

‘He’s busy,’ Crusher told him. ‘But he gave me strict instructions not to go above fifty.’

‘Well then the deal’s off,’ the Duardin said bitterly. ‘I’ll find another buyer, even if it means staying longer. What you’re offering is an insult to me and my people.’

Crusher scratched his wart. ‘You don’t seem to understand. We’re leaving with the goods, that’s happening. You can either take the fifty, or nothing at all.’

The Duardin took a step back. ‘Oathbreaker,’ he hissed, like a curse. Then he turned, waving at his companions. ‘We’ve been cheated! It’s a tr–’

The crossbow bolt struck him in the shoulder and the Duardin staggered into the sand. Alish clapped a hand over her mouth. The bolt was lightweight and steel-tipped, fletched with goshawk feathers. One of hers.

She saw the other Duardin ducking behind their carts as more bolts thudded into the wood, the mules whinnying in panic. The gang drew their swords, marching forward with murder in their eyes. Alish crouched lower, her heart pounding. So it was true. The Scarlet Shadow didn’t just rob people, or trick them, or scare them. They killed them.

Arrows rained down around the advancing men and Alish heard one of them cry out as a massive metal hammer spiralled through the air, glancing off his armour and thundering into the dust. It skidded towards Alish and lay still.

Instinctively she reached for it, hefting it in her hand. The Duardin had spoken truthfully – this was fine craftsmanship. The head was solid but light, the shaft perfectly designed for gripping. She clutched it as she backed away, turning her back on the fighting.

Then she heard footsteps behind her, and ducked aside as a small figure hurtled past, weaving in terror. It was a Duardin child, barely up to her shoulder, with a wispy beard and fear in his eyes. She’d seen that fear before – no, she’d felt it, the night that her parents disappeared and the Shadow took her. The boy sprinted on, making for the nearest tunnel and vanishing inside.

‘He got away!’ a man shouted. ‘He went in there!’

‘I’ll go after him,’ Crusher replied. ‘You keep the others pinned down.’

Alish saw him stride past, sword in hand. The boy might lose him, if he was lucky. But what if he wasn’t? Gripping the hammer, she got to her feet. The tunnel was a dark mouth, opening before her. Swallowing her fear she stepped inside.

She could hear Crusher up ahead, calling to the boy.

‘Don’t run, little beardling. I’m going to take you to your daddy.’ Then in a low voice he muttered, ‘Nothing like a good hostage to make a stubborn Duardin put his sword down.’

Alish hurried after them, turning left then right, beginning to lose her bearings. The darkness was absolute, the walls closing in. She felt her heart pound, and wondered what in Sigmar’s name she was doing.

Then she heard a laugh, and her blood ran cold.

‘There you are,’ Crusher said. ‘Now just get over here, and– aaagh! You little rat!’

Alish hugged the wall, peering into an empty hall. The ceiling was cracked and shafts of moonlight fell, illuminating two figures. Crusher had two fingers in his mouth, his face flushed with anger. The Duardin boy crouched a short distance away, blood on his lips and terror in his eyes.

Crusher strode forward, hands outstretched. But as he passed the opening where Alish crouched she sprang from the shadows, shoving him off his feet. She grabbed the trembling youngbeard, pointing to the far side of the hall where an archway stood open. Through it she could see the Duardin temple.

‘Go,’ she hissed. ‘Find your people. Stay safe.’

The boy fled, out into the night. Crusher picked himself up. His eyes widened.

‘You!’

Alish nodded, hefting the hammer. ‘Me.’

Crusher reached over his shoulder, yanking something from a harness on his back. Alish recognised it – a crossbow, one of hers, light and deadly. But it was an old model, and it tended to pull to the right.

‘You just dug your own grave,’ Crusher said, loading an arrow and taking aim. ‘And after we fed you, raised you, kept you from harm.’

‘You got your money’s worth,’ Alish said. ‘But it ends here.’

His finger squeezed the trigger and she threw herself left as the arrow glanced off the wall. Gripping the hammer, she fled for the nearest tunnel, taking one turning then another, emerging into the courtyard. There was no sign of the Duardin boy, and behind them the din of battle had abated. She wondered which side had won.

Then she heard Crusher coming after her and realised she had nowhere to go. She could flee the city, she supposed – if she stayed, the Shadow would surely find her.

Then her gaze lifted to the slopes above, to the palace on the peak, a sprawl of white buildings gleaming in the moonlight. The Arbour, home of the Shadowcaster. Well, it was worth a try.

She bolted across the square and into the maze of buildings on the far side, heading uphill. Her legs were weary and her head was ringing – she’d seen too much, done too much, and it was way past her bedtime.

Alish darted from alley to alley, crossed street after street, always heading upwards. She barely knew this part of the city, where the rich folk lived. It wouldn’t take much to get completely lost.

She paused for a moment, looking around. Pale buildings rose, blocking the view in all directions. The ground was flat, she wasn’t even sure which way was up. And it wouldn’t be long before–

‘Found you.’

From an alley, a hulking figure appeared. Crusher’s face was red with exertion, his wart gleaming in the moonlight. His hand dropped to the sword at his belt.

‘You ungrateful guttersnipe. No one betrays the Scarlet Shadow and lives to… lives to…’

He broke off, frowning. For a moment Alish thought she felt a strange tingling in the air, then a breeze blew and it passed. Crusher had stopped in his tracks, looking at her in confusion. He stared at his sword, then up again.

‘Um, who are…’ he asked, frowning. ‘Wh… where are…’

Alish watched him. Had he suddenly lost his mind, or was he trying to trick her somehow?

Then a voice spoke from the shadows, clear and calm.

‘Leave this girl alone,’ it said. ‘Go back to the hole you crawled out of, and forget she ever existed.’

Crusher frowned, his eyes losing focus. He shrugged. ‘Um, okay. If you say so.’

And he turned and ambled away, leaving Alish open-mouthed. She looked for the source of the voice, and as the moon broke from the clouds a figure was revealed, standing on the cobbles with a satisfied expression on his face.

‘Well that went surprisingly well, didn’t it?’ the Shadowcaster said with a smile. ‘It always seems to work better with the stupid ones.’

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Warhammer Adventures

First published in Great Britain in 2020.
This eBook edition published in 2020 by Warhammer Publishing,
Willow Road, Nottingham, NG7 2WS, UK.

Produced by Games Workshop in Nottingham.
Cover illustration by Cole Marchetti.
Internal illustrations by Dan Boultwood & Cole Marchetti.

Flight of the Kharadron © Copyright Games Workshop Limited 2020. Flight of the Kharadron, GW, Games Workshop, Warhammer Adventures, Space Marine, 40K, Warhammer, Warhammer 40,000, the ‘Aquila’ Double-headed Eagle logo, Warhammer Age of Sigmar, Stormcast Eternals and all associated logos, illustrations, images, names, creatures, races, vehicles, locations, weapons, characters, and the distinctive likenesses thereof, are either ® or TM, and/or © Games Workshop Limited, variably registered around the world.
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ISBN: 978-1-78999-858-0

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