2k words
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“My outriders,” he said. “One horn means enemy contact. It’s an ambush.”
Gunshots rang out from the north, the volleys of fire quickly joined by the clanging of steel kissing steel. She could see nothing through the canopy, but she could make out the sounds of chaos, and of many chittering snouts joining together in a battle-screech.
“Quickly!” Roderick urged, making for his horse. Despite his plate armour he moved as swiftly as she did, mounting his destrier in one smooth motion. He outstretched a paw, and she took it at a run, swinging up onto the rear of the saddle, clutching at his metal gorget as she outstretched her tail for balance. From here she had much more range of motion, her preparing one of her daggers for throwing.
They rode past and round the clusters of trees retracing their steps in haste, the lime-green leaves blurring by. As the ground levelled out, and the highway returned back into view, they came upon a scene of chaos. The host had stopped in its tracks, their many followers turning their gazes to the sides as movement from the left and right rushed towards them. from the thick underbrush came dozens upon dozens of charging Skaven, their ranks packed filthy shoulder to filthy shoulder, the tide very nearly living up to its namesake as it used the vegetation and surrounding trees as cover on their approach. Brown and black fur were clad in the Mors’ reds, the onrush of her former Clanmates rushing the host from both flanks.
Skirmishes had already erupted down the host, humans forming a hasty wall of defence for the tide to clash against. Handgunners fired wildly from disorganised positions, wisps of gunpowder smoke rising as they fille dthe forest with their thunderous reports. The head of the convoy had devolved into a terrifying brawl, with the giant orcs scattered about, crushing rats beneath their feet like they were roaches, the splatters of gore making her stomach queasy. All around them, knights and riders were busy with their own individual battles, hooves pounding on the grass as their riders forced them to twist and turn and charge.
“Let’s get in there!” she snarled, flipping her knife so she held it by the blade. “Those rats won’t kill themselves! Not for a while anyway. AIEEEE!”
Roderick added his voice to her battle cry, kicking his horse into a furious gallop. He had replaced his greatsword for a shorter variant he kept in his saddle, one that was easier to use while riding.
They came at the rightmost flank, their path aimed directly at the tide rushing down the host from the lower ground. He held his sword right, so she readied her dagger to the left, waiting until they were in range.
The Skaven noticed their approach far too late, their horse trampling down the first layer with unhinged ferocity, Skyseeker swearing she could hear his bone squash even beyond all the gunfire and steel clashing. She flung out her arm, her dagger spinning through the air as it connected with the chest of another clanrat, quickly fumbling in her cloak for a replacement. Roderick cleaved his sword in a downwards arch, lopping the head off the closest Skaven on his side, his sword arm never ceasing to move as he drew it up for another swing. They had plunged deep within the Skaven ranks, four or five rats deep, yet the horse showed no signs of halting, the diminutive Skaven no obstacle to its brutal speed and power. When she turned her head she could see they’d cleaved a visible path through the vermintide.
The clanrats took to their heels as their horse plunged them through their ranks, but the Skaven were not lacking for numbers. They ranged ten rats deep in places, and their line stretched down the entire flank of the host like a furry lake. Their were other riders charging their mounts into the fray, Skyseeker picking out a few Brettonian knights and some Imperials as well. Most of them had been turned about, the Skaven slowing them down by throwing as many of their bodies at them as possible. She watched one of the Imperials hacking and slashing at the rats converging on his position, his horse throwing up its forelegs in a rear. The rider did not buck, but the lapse ins peed gave the Skaven their chance to close in, one of them jabbing him in the leg with a polearm, using the leverage to hoist him down where he drowned in a mass of fur and knives.
Other riders were scattered about a short distance from the road, running off straggling rats and taking risky charges where they could, their rushing mounts flashing by as they dashed through the trees. Roderick raised his sword, whirling it through the air as he raised his voice, crying out like the battle horns from earlier.
“Rally to me! To me!” he bellowed. “Knights and Sons of Sigmar, to me!”
Perhaps his voice had been heard over the battle, or maybe the riders had seen her riding on his back and knew they were a force they should get behind. Either way, the lingering horseman galloped their way over, Roderick continuing to shout for support as he broke off his charge, riding away from the fight so his riders had room to organise. The Skaven were numerous, but there was plenty of empty ground in the woods adjacent to the highway. She was out of throwing knife-range, turning to see five, ten, twelve riders fall in behind them. Their gathering only drew more riders in, each man and horse joining their mass into one giant, thunderous charge.
Before long thirty riders had answered the call, Roderick directed them with a flurry of his weapon. They banked to the right, an even number of riders behind and tot heir flanks, forming a distinct arrowhead shape from Skyseeker’s advantage, with their horse being at the point. They curved through the woods in a long banking motion until their snouts were pointed at the backs of the attacking mass of Skaven.
“Charge!” Roderick shouted. “Drive these rodents back underground! For Sigmar!”
“For the Horned Rat!” Skyseeker added, raising her knives. “Uh, I mean, for Sigmar!”
They thundered into the Skaven with all the force of a battering ram, the ratmen too committed to attacking the host to break ranks fast enough. With the mass of over two dozen other riders, the charge was devastating in its intensity. Those who were not crushed were tossed off their feet, and the ones who held their ground were hacked apart from above, their cries of fury and pain drowned out by the rumble of hooves.
The cavalry penetrated straight down the Skaven mass and onto the highway, the humans and orcs dodging aside, narrowly avoiding being run down themselves. Roderick carried their charge onto the highway’s opposing side, where more Skaven had gathered on that flank. These ones had more time to prepare, clanrats with polearms taking the front, fifteen or twenty of them levelling halberds as they formed a wall of impaling death.
Roderick swapped his sword for a handgun, aiming it over the head of his mount and firing, a puff of powder smoke wafting over her head as they rode at full speed. One of the clanrats dropped, and he aimed his horse through the opening, using his legs to steer while his hands were busy reloading his flintlock weapon. Skyseeker flung out her knives at any of the Skaven she could see, her ammunition far easier to expend as she unburdened her pockets of all the weapons she been holding onto since breaking free from the underburrow.
Most of their cavalry had penetrated straight through the Skaven alongside them, a few outliers lingering behind as they were forced to slow, or their horses taking wounds and sending them crashing to the forest floor. Roderick gestured a circle in the air with his gun, a silent command to turn about face, the charge morphing into another slow bank.
Before they came about, she thrust a paw out to the side, Roderick turning to track what she was pointing at. The land sloped up in a steep hill on this side of the highway, and at its crest came two pairs of figures trundling down the near face. The two at the back were hauling along what looked like giant metal barrels, an eery green light emanating through glass ports on the side. The two at the front were hefting oversized cannons, and as they came to a stop they raised them up, what seemed like nine of ten barrels spinning up in preparation.
“Ratling guns!” she warned. “Back-Back!”
Roderick relayed her order, but it was too late, the gunners had already spun up their barrels, the muzzles glowing with boiling warp-fuel. The two gunners opened up, sending two streams of warp-bolts arcing down the hillside, the cavalry caught square in their sights. The streams chewed up trees and branches like wet paper, slagging anything in their path. It took only a short delay before it reached their riders, one of them screaming in pain as he was caught in the line of fire, his limb severing at the shoulder before his body fell down with it. A knight to her left was liquified, his silver armour slagging into a puddle as the heat of the warp melted man and armour alike, the horse loosing a chilling screech as the liquid boiled its backside.
Her unease grew as the cavalry changed direction and put their backs to the gunners, trying to put as much distance as possible from their firing line. The gunners showed no signs of reloading, catching another knight with a hail of bullets, catching his stirrup and igniting both his leg and the saddle. The horse lost control, flailing away in primal terror, Skyseeker watching in alarm as the beast lurched their way, Skyseeker powerless to do anything but brace in those few precious moments.
The wounded horse crashed with Roderick’s, who’s flailing legs kicked it square in the head on its way to the ground. The beast stumbled, and Skyseeker tried to grab Roderick’s armour to stable herself, but she was too weak. She was tossed to the left, blinding pain chasing the fleeing moment of freefall that caught her. If they had been going much faster she would have broken all her bones right then and there, but she was just able to manage a small roll to save her limbs from snapping.
She skidded in the dirt, watching helplessly as Roderick and his men rode straight past her. He must not have noticed she had fallen, and it wasn’t like he could turn about anyway with the ratling gunners saturating the area, the men galloping off until the trees obscured them. Even with the fighting and the gunshots all around her, she felt like very alone all of a sudden.
Her ear flicked as she heard footsteps, and she raised her hooded head above the grass, still keeping low on all fours. The warp-fire streams had stopped, and after a brief delay, she saw the two ratling gun teams jogging down the hill, but not in pursuit of the cavalry. They were moving to the left, where the main fighting could be heard down the slope, her heart filling with dread. If they took up position over the host, they could fill the entire highway with warp-bolts. Dozens would die if someone didn’t stop them, and that someone may as well be her.
She willed her heart to calm, Skyseeker scampering into a crouch-run, gliding silently over the earth on her padded feet. She avoided all the fallen twigs and branches, barely making a sound as she positioned herself behind the gunners.
She skirted round one of the dead knights, the grisly scene forcing her to avert her eyes. The gunners came to a stop on a small lip of dirt, the rats at the back starting to twist the loading valves on their ammo cannisters. She closed in, maybe forty feet away, nimbly sidestepping another fallen human who’d been chewed apart by the gunfire.
As she prepared to draw another throwing knife, a terrible snorting noise made her jump, and she glanced behind her at its source. The horse! IT was not dead like its rider, only wounded, and her proximity had set it off.
She glanced back at the gunners, praying they had not heard, but her plea went unanswered. One of the gunners turned his head in her direction, yelling out in alarm as he pointed a claw her way. In a moment, she was staring down the nine barrels of his rotary gun, the muzzle starting to glow a familiar green.
She darted to her strong side, her left, narrowly avoiding the start of the warp-stream. Its fire rate was obscene, each report was steady, chk-chk-chk, quickly gaining more tempo as the barrel spun to maximum speed. She managed to slip behind the bulk of a tree, splinters of wood raining on her head as the stream cut it with the ease of a heated axe. She predicted the gunner thinking she’d carry her momentum, but instead she switched directions, doubling back to the right.
“RATATATATATA!” she heard the gunner cackle, hefting his weapon in her direction.