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The Wolf and the Rat – Extract

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THE WOLF AND THE RAT

C L Werner

Beneath the display of smug arrogance, the Wolf could smell the tang of fear. There was no masking the scent, not from the lord of Ulfenkarn. Radukar let his lip curl back in the faintest hint of a smile, one pearly fang glistening in the flickering candlelight.

There was a moment where Radukar could see the confidence in the speaker’s attitude falter. His voice caught, and from the base of the dais the messenger’s eyes darted to the guards positioned either side of the Wolf’s throne. Though they stood at the foot of the steps, their brutish heads were on the same level as that of their seated master. Kosargi Nightguard – vicious ogors who’d served Radukar in life and continued to obey his every command in undeath. Even to a vampire they were an imposing sight, and a formidable menace.

‘These terms are generous,’ the messenger said.

Radukar tapped one of his clawed fingers against the arm of his throne, digging his nail into the wood and letting the splinters scatter to the floor. The chair had been carved for a prince of the ven Altens from shadeoak, one of the toughest woods known in Shyish, and this reminder that the ogors were far from the most fearsome thing in the Ebon Citadel seemed not to go unnoticed by the messenger. The vampire’s flesh was already pale, and it was impossible for the undead to sweat, but Radukar could smell the fear crawling through the messenger’s gut like an infestation of maggots.

‘We only want what is our right,’ the messenger said, making a show of assuming a bold posture, as though such theatrics could deceive the Wolf.

‘Valac Chrobak.’ Radukar let the name hiss from between his fangs. ‘What do you expect to gain from this? What is to be your reward?’

‘The governing council will be re-established,’ Valac said.

‘And Kritza has told you that you will sit on this council?’ The question came in a low growl.

All pretence of Valac’s bravado was suddenly extinguished, and he waved his arms in a placating gesture. ‘There is a place for you on the council…’

Radukar leaned forwards, his crimson eyes boring down into the other vampire. ‘Is that so? I am to be permitted to share power, am I? A council of equals, is it?’ He barked with cruel laughter. ‘You will sit at the table as my equal, Valac Chrobak? Were you not a traitor I would appoint you as my jester. You have a flair for the absurd.’

The doors at the far end of the hall swung open as the mouldering servitors admitted a tall, broad-shouldered woman dressed in black. Natasyia’s red hair was pulled back into a single braid, which draped over her shoulder, weighted down by a ruby that glistened like blood. Her complexion had a milky paleness to it, somehow more graceful than the sickly hue of Valac’s. She barely gave the messenger a glance as she approached the throne, then dropped to one knee before Radukar and bowed her head.

‘It is as this glib scallywag says, milord,’ Natasyia declared, her words twisted by the piratical jargon of her old life. Before becoming seneschal of the Ebon Citadel and receiving the Blood Kiss, she’d been the most notorious corsair to prowl the waters of Banshee’s Bay. Radukar’s intervention had kept the princes of Mournhold from hanging her. Now, with the city reborn as Ulfenkarn under the Wolf’s rule, Natasyia enjoyed power far surpassing that of a mere pirate captain. ‘This scug or his friends got into the vaults and took the pelt.’ She turned a withering glance at Valac.

Radukar rose from his seat and pointed down at Valac. ‘Do you know what you’ve taken from me?’ he snarled. ‘The hide of my father-in-darkness, last of the Vyrkos Blood-kings!’ He splayed his fingers, curling them until his hands resembled vulturine talons. ‘I peeled that skin from him after I bested him in combat and proved myself the true master of the Vyrkos! Before ever I sailed the Impaler’s Gift to this city and rescued it from Slaughn’s Chaos hordes, that pelt was my most precious treasure. A tangible reminder of my impossible victory. Evidence that my destiny is to conquer and command.’

Valac shifted uneasily, his eyes widening as he felt the Wolf’s ire focused upon him. ‘The hide will be returned to you. You need only meet our demands. Lord Kritza–’

A gesture from Radukar sent his Kosargi Nightguard lumbering towards Valac. ‘Kritza sent you here to die. Surely you know that.’

The messenger sprang back. His weapons had been taken from him before entering the throne room, but he whipped out a dagger from some hidden pocket. Animalistic fury contorted Valac’s face, but it was the desperate rage of a cornered rat, not the vicious strength of a predator. He leaped forward, but as soon as he was in motion, Natasyia struck him and threw him aside. He crashed to the floor, then turned to stare up at her with a look of horror. In the next moment, one of the Kosargi grabbed him and lifted him up by his head. As Valac struggled in the ogor’s crushing grip, the other Nightguard let its halberd drop and reached into its belt to retrieve a sharpened stake. The guard rammed it into Valac’s chest with a sickening impact, shattering ribs as it drove up through the vampire’s heart, abruptly silencing his protestations.

‘Hoist that carrion up onto the battlements,’ Natasyia told the Kosargi. She scowled at Valac’s corpse as the skin began to rot and peel away. ‘Let that scum be a warning of the price of mutiny.’

Radukar sank back into his throne while the Nightguard carried the traitor’s body away. ‘So, the Rat Prince thinks to bargain for power,’ he spat. ‘Kritza should have been satisfied with simply being alive.’ The Wolf gnashed his fangs in anger that the sly nobleman had survived destruction. When Kritza had been thrown into the corpse-cart for disposal, that should have been the end of him. Instead, he’d somehow managed to revive himself and escape. Radukar had underestimated his enemy’s tenacity. It was a mistake he wouldn’t make a second time.

‘Valac claimed Kritza would meet with you to exchange the Vyrkos pelt for your blood-oath,’ Natasyia said.

Radukar nodded. ‘Kritza and his conspirators are demanding that I restore the old council – to share rule with them.’ He flashed a toothy smile at his seneschal. ‘I am to meet them at Grimmarrow Shipyard to sign the compact they’ve drawn up.’

Natasyia’s lips parted in a carnivorous grin, the sort of smile she’d worn when executing prisoners back in her pirate days. ‘If Kritza thinks to trap you, you can trap him instead, milord. The mutineers would likely spot the Kosargi if you brought them, but they’d have a harder time noticing the Deathrattle. I could surround the shipyard with the household guard. Even if they were spotted, they’d be mistaken for Ulfenwatch patrols.’

‘See to it,’ Radukar pronounced. The Wolf swiftly descended from the dais, his cloak billowing around him as he stalked from the hall. ‘I am impatient to teach these traitors that no one defies me in my own city!’ His voice trailed away in a lupine growl. ‘Kritza will learn that there are worse things waiting for him when he’s once more in my power.’

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A Black Library Publication

First published in Great Britain in 2021 by Black Library, Games Workshop Ltd, Willow Road, Nottingham, NG7 2WS, UK.

Represented by: Games Workshop Limited – Irish branch, Unit 3, Lower Liffey Street, Dublin 1,D01 K199, Ireland.

Produced by Games Workshop in Nottingham.
Cover illustration by Kevin Chin.

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ISBN: 978-1-80026-722-0

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