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“Indeed I am. Go check on the slave, see if he can climb. We go back to Fred-Wil, and out little friend here is coming with us.”
They retreated up to the rocks where they’d done their initial scouting above the camp, back to the ledge. The skavenslave went first, leading Daruik along with a knife pressed into his belly. Before Skyseeker could follow them down, she saw Kretch giving her a look, and she gestured at him as she turned to face the climb.
“What you looking at, Kretch?”
“You were worried,” he said, smirking down at her, as he was a few inches taller.
“Worried of what? Oh, being shot to death by beard-things? No, I’m nto scared of brains being blown out, what makes you think that?”
“No, of me-me.” He pointed at his chest, then to her. “When beard-thing hit Kretch, heard you shout Kretch’s name. You sounded scared.”
“N-No I didn’t,” she stammered. “I was concerned – about losing my favourite slave, of course – you too useful to my plans to lose-lose.”
“It is good to know you care, Skyseeker.”
“Shut up and make sure the beard-thing gets down safe-safe…”
-xXx-
“Miss Seeker!” the wizard called, separating from the group to meet her. The rise of ice behind him marked the precipice to which she’d battled Daurik’s men, but from down here it was very hard to see the vantage. There would have been little the man-things could have done, if she hadnt’ so cleverly foiled the dwarf’s plans.
“It was so quiet after all that shooting,” Wilfred said. “I was about to send someone to find you. Are you wounded?”
“Nothing Skaven has not dealt with before,” she said, waving a paw. “Beard-things had us outnumbered ten-to-one, but thanks to my brilliant battle tactics, we won-won the day!”
“From the way you’ve bound that fellow behind you, I could tell as much.”
“Oh, right!” She blinked in remembrance, turning to give Daurik a pull. His gant hands were bound in a piece of rope looted from his camp, and his deep-set frown made him look more miserable than angry. “This is Rickety door, formerly a major pain in our butt cheeks, now my prisoner of war! I always knew I’d get to have one!”
“I wish we would have met under different circumstances, master dwarf,” Wilfred said, and she balked when she saw sympathy in his expression. “We could have used our words instead of our weapons to come to an agreement.”
Daurik turned and spat in the snow by the wizard’s boot, glaring up at the taller human.
“Have you no shame, manling? You fight with rats at your back, and you’ve the gawl to think yourself higher and mightier than us? I should have shot you in that pass instead of that other raki.”
“Silence, prisoner!” Skyseeker said, tossing a handful of snow into Daurik’s beard. “From now on, you say only nice things, or I’ll put a knife through your other paw.”
“Ulrich’s beard, Miss Seeker, he is a captive,” Wilfred said, wagging a chiding finger. “I don’t want you mistreating him in any way.”
“Aww! Can I still make threats?”
“Certainly not! You’ve already taken him into custody, his fight is over. Levae the poor man be, it’s high time we stop the bloodshed.”
“Yawwwwwn…”
“And I can see you haven’t even bandaged his wounds,” she said, gesturing to the drips of red blood standing out against the snow. Daurik had left quite a trail of them in his wake. “Be still, master dwarf, I will tend to you.”
“Save your energy, manling,” Daurik spat. “I’m done for, heals or no.”
Wilfred ignored his protest, muttering words of magic under his breath, the gem on the end of his magic staff glowing. She could not see the wound beneath his bindings, but Daurik’s bleeding gently settled as the flesh beneath was knitted back together.
“There,” Wilfred said. “That should ease the pain. To be honest, Miss Seeker, I am pleasantly surprised to see you sparing one of the dwarf’s number. That must have taken great restraint, or did it? Perhaps, by spending time among the heirs of Sigmar, our values have rubbed off on you? Have you taken your first steps onto a path of valour, and honour? Have you forsaken the… disagreeable methods of the Skaven, for a more dutiful pursuit?”
“Nah, Skaven just wanted to have my very own prisoner for once. Get to boss him around whenever I want, and he can’t even raise a paw in defiance. It’s pretty cool!”
“I see,” Wilfred said, looking annoyed for some reason. “While I do not agree with using a hostage like so, I cannot deny the usefulness of having one. Perhaps having him accompany could prove as a useful deterrent to his kin.”
“A waste,” Daurik muttered. “I have shamed my brothers for my capture, they wouldn’t care if you paraded me like a trophy or not, my Clan will kill you all, me included.”
“As my new body shield, that can be arranged,” Skyseeker chuckled ominously.
“I’ve not known a dwarven clan to forsake one of their own so easily,” Wilfred said. “But you will come with us regardless. Having you may cuase tahe rest of your Clan to hesitate. Know that while you may be our prisoner, you have our protection as well. Isn’t that right, Miss Seeker?”
“Oh, yes-yes. No harm will come to you. You have my word as a Skaven!”
Daurik muttered some obscenities under his breath the word ‘raki’ coming up several times. She ordered Kretch to keep both his eyes and at least one weapon on the dwarf, just to deter any escapist thoughts he might be having.
As the dwarf was hauled away, Wilfred turned round, using his staff as a walking stick. “We should keep moving,” he said. “The gunfire would have drawn attention.”
“Wait!” she shouted, startling a nearby human who was retrieving his pack. “The beard-things had a camp up and yonder, had plenty of things to loot. Furs, foods, firewood. We should grab-take.”
“Those would come in useful,” Wilfred considered. “We are not far from the far side of the Grey’s, but it is never bad to have more supplies.”
“I’ll have my slaves retrieve our trinkets,” she said. “Apologising, my unpaid labourers, will help out of the badness of their hearts. Hope that dragon thingy is still sleeping…”
“What?” Wilfred said. “What dragon?”
Once she organised a sortie of skavenslaves to go back and loot Daurik’s camp, she regaled Wilfred of her encounter with the scaly beast. She made sure to describe it a little bigger than it really was, and that it had not attacked because she had threatened and coerced it into submission, leaving out the part where she’d begged to be spared. To say Wilfred was impressed had to be the biggest of understatements.
“An ice drake,” he’d muttered. “You are very lucky to have seen one, there are few of those remaining in the wild.”
She considering saying how she hadn’t felt lucky, with those giant teeth inches from her face, but reconsidered her words.
“Dragons are very territorial creatures, I wonder why it did not attack you.” The wizard stroked his beard with a spotted hand. “Perhaps it had recently fed and had come up here to roost when you came across it.”
“That’s boring explanations, nobody gonna like that explanations. Better if we tell everyone Skaven chased it off because I am force to be reckoned with, that sound much more exciting.”
“I’m sure Roderick will be most impressed either way. He always talked about facing one in his younger years, but has never laid eyes on one, far as I know.”
That technically made her more well-travelled than her human friend, which served to bloat her ergo wonderfully. Before long, her skavenslaves returned from their climb to Daurik’s camp, their shoulders burdened with loot. They were eager to divide the weight to the taller, stronger humans, and it was clear that Daurik had spoiled himself out on his ranging’s. There was dried venison wrapped in little paper parcels, wine, even a few fruits and roasted vegetables in case one fancied a sweeter taste than jerked meat. There were plenty of cooking utensils along with it, and it was decided that they would feast only a short while later, once the sight of the ambush was far behind them, swallowed into the storm.
Even the simple act of filling one’s belly had become a rare luxury, and spirits were high as the small group took their fill. After all the harsh weather, the wet snow and the freezing air, it was good to take a rest and a feast, and for some reason staying warm while eating her fill made Skyseeker feel the best she had in days.
Her prisoner watched the minor revelry with disdain, but when she offered him scraps and leftovers, he agreed to eat, but made sure he made himself look as reluctant as possible. He could still feed himself even despite his binds, but he seemed to think himself at his lowest point every time he had to interact with her. Wilfred had said the dwarfs were prideful people, being taken captive must rarely happen to them. She asked him about it later that night, and he confirmed that he had only seen dwarven prisoners once, many centuries ago, where two rivalling clans had fought in many wars until one had absorbed the other into their ranks. A dwarf would sooner die than be taken by one of the other races, especially the Skaven, who they held a deep disdain for. Probably because the Skaven built better tunnels, in her humble opinion. It was good to know she was really spicing up this surface-world with her prestigious presence.
After their feast, Skyseeker felt good enough to continue scouting ahead of the main group, leaving Daurik in the care of her slaves. She skittered and leaped across ice shards and snow-capped rocks, her goggle’s filtering out the snowflakes so she could see the things of interest. The incline was a comfortable downward angle, but there was still plenty of snow drifts to climb or circle.
As she peaked on one of the drifts, she had to shield her goggles from sunlight, and it took her to moment to realise there was actual sunshine. Overcast hung over the Grey Mountains ever since they’d entered them, but now the clouds were thinning, and she could feel heat on her fur.
She looked lower, towards the east, and the snowstorm too was receding, allowing her to see far ahead of her, into a sight that stole her breath.
Before her lay the slope, gutted with protrusions of ice and stone, but beyond it she could see a spread of colour. Fields of green and brown claimed the snow at a faraway border, running all the way to the horizon and beyond.
It was hard to make sure, but her goggles picked out structures nestled within the sprawling forests, rooftops of hovels, the star-shaped canvases of windmills. They were barely big enough to be certain of their size, but they were there -echoes of villages, of civilisation. It seemed the unyielding snow did have an end point, she was starting to doubt whether she’d ever see colour again.
Cutting through this rich spread of fertile land was a snaking river, coursing its way from north to south, the channel of water so wide across that four or five wolfships could sail the tides side by side, its lumpy surface shimmering with reflective sunlight.
For the first time in her life, Skyseeker was looking upon the Empire.
“I see it!” she shouted, when she raced back to tell the others. “I see the far side – before any of you did, hehe! – we almost home, man-things.”
The group beheld the sight, at equal or as she had been, the relief palpable in the air. Even Wilfred seemed glad to have their journey across the mounts reaching its end, although there were still many leagues left before the mountain trail ended.
Having the far side in site was a helpful boost to morale, and the group moved swiftly down the slope. Each passing hour felt longer than it really was, and the approaching grasslands seemed to grow ever so slowly, but they were making progress. The wind was chilly but weak as they moved to lower ground, gently kicking up wisps of snow from the ground, not unlike the sandy breeze’s back in the deserts of the Tomb Kings. They were still well within the icy grip of the mountains, yet it was pleasantly warm with the evening sun at their backs, their vision clearing as the snowstorm relented.
After another hour, the snow beneath her paws began to melt to sleet, and she could spot little tufts of grass peaking through the layer of frost. It was becoming almost balmy, the tundra yielding before more and more flora that clung to the slopes, the ice rescinding into half-melted formations.
There was a sparse forests at the foot of the mountain, the attractive colours of warmth and life coercing the group like moths to flame. The borders of the snow were a long line of sparse powder, and after a few last crunches beneath their feet, they were out of the snow, taking their first steps on Empire land.