The Fourth Emperor
Chapter 5. The Trap
Rychek's powers of control were sorely tested as the bale-fire conflagrations startled beast and man alike. He too had seen the clanking chariots and understood the threat to the caravan's flank but could not respond personally.
"I need to guide the caravan to safety!" he shouted to the rest of the lizard band, "You protect the flank! Let nothing through!"
The two saurus warriors, one kroxigor and one skink priest vaulted onto the sands but found no immediate foes. The chariots of Zharr Naggrund were being rapidly reduced to component parts by the wall of kroxigor with their huge axes.
As the grey saurus champion began to mount the slopes, Mahtis strained to follow.
"Hold! Our mission is to protect the caravan!” Caneghem remonstrated.
They could not see anything beyond the crest of the ridge, but sounds travelled clearly. The shouts of the chaos dwarfs there took on a tenor of surprise, which changed to rage and then to fear. Overlayed on the last change of mood were twin bellows of rage which once heard could not be forgotten.
Bob cowered. "Bloodthirsters of Khorne? Here?"
"Even in the wilderness the daemon lords have come for revenge!” Joe took a step back.
"Listen." Mahtis remained calm.
Shrieks of terror and agony could be heard, punctuated by the reverberating crunch of metal on metal, flesh and stone.
"They seek vengeance, but not on us."
Dwarves began tumbling over the brink and they hurled themselves down the treacherous slope in full rout. A pair of crimson destroyers swooped after them on leathery wings.
"They look grumpy," observed Joe.
The daemons only had time for one more bellow of rage before they winked back into their own dimension. A new figure appeared on the heights and howled in incoherent frustration and flung himself after the tumbling dawi.
"Not as grumpy as him,” remarked Bob.
It was the grey saurus champion. He had barely begun his descent when the rabble of dwarfs reached the canyon floor and found themselves in the jaws of another trap. A phalanx of saurus warriors which had been concealed under the sand rose into view and grounded their spears. The dwarfs' momentum carried many of them onto the spear points, but a fair number spilled around and over the saurus lines.
Caneghem evaluated the multiple threats instantly. "Mahtis, run them down!” he gestured at a tight knot of heavily armoured dwarfs who had bypassed the spears and were careening towards the rear of the caravan. "Bob, Joe! We are needed there! We must protect our allies' rear!"
As the saurus raced to keep up with the fleet footed priest Bob shouted, "What of those?"
Another sizeable group had broken off to the right of the saurus block, headed towards the lake and the head of the column.
"Don't be greedy! Rychek must have his share!” Caneghem hooted savagely.
As he ran, the priest of heavens gathered the winds of the plain and blasted sand into escalating melee between the saurus warriors and the dawi. The lizardmen had their backs to him and were unaffected, but the eyes of the dwarfs were temporarily blinded. The warriors began to push forward through the faltering dwarfs. However, with each step the phalanx took forward, more space and time was available to the foes who had tumbled behind the sauri. A knot of stunned dawi started to gather themselves, ready to assail the phalanx's rear.
It was upon these that a pair of saurus and the indomitable skink priest fell like a thunderbolt.
It seemed to take an age, but finally the wall of daemon fire guttered out. The lake ahead offered a temporary refuge for the caravan, but the last group of Dawi was closing quickly.
"Bessie, you must lead them to the lake," Rychek barked as he readied himself to leap onto the sand, "don't turn back!"
The monster grumbled and tossed her head rebelliously at Rychek's command. Her instincts and her training were to protect her herd.
He tried another ploy. "Bessie! Bathtime!"
This time she pricked up her horns enthusiastically. The skink barely had time to grab a handful of poisoned javelins and jump clear before she began galumphing towards the waterline with every thirsty beast of the caravan trailing in her wake.
A scurrying Lustrian skink is very nearly as fast as a warhorse, but Rychek was aware of something keeping pace with him as he ran to intercept the unengaged chaos dwarfs. He managed a quick head bob and found enough breath to call out. "Well met, Scalenex. Your tactical knowledge reveals you. I see your claw behind this trap.”
The other skink, who ran stride for stride with him, flared his tattered head crest with pride. "You honour me, Rychek."
Scalenex's limbs and body bore the scars of countless wounds and burns. More than it seemed a living body could endure. Instead of javelins, he carried a blow pipe and a bandolier of feathered darts.
Behind them they heard a sound like rolling thunder and an enormous splash. Rychek turned to see a ring of huge waves that signalled that Bessie had leapt into the lake and hit the water like an twelve ton cannonball. He also saw eleven grey skinks running in perfect skirmish formation just behind the scarred chief.
Rychek beamed at Scalenex and accelerated slightly. "My javelins are quicker to loose than your darts, Scalenex. Be careful or I will finish all of the foe before you catch breath to use your pea-shooter!"
The kroxigor manner of battle was steeped in tradition. Square off with your foe and then crush him to pulp with a mace, tree trunk, decorative column or any other object which was large, heavy and close to hand.
Mahtis, however, had fought alongside ogres and had his mind opened to other, subtler strategies. He had seen at first hand what a wall of rapidly moving adipose tissue could do an enemy formation. Although he lacked an ogre's overall mass, he did have a bony head, a large dwarven-wrought hammer and an awful lot of momentum.
He lowered the rune hammer crosswise in front of him and crunched into the dawi who were closing on the rear of the caravan. His impact killed or disabled many. As he punched through to the far side of the black armoured group he added to their woe by stomping on one with a taloned foot and breaking another's spine with his lashing tail.
Such an impact should have been enough to scatter any enemy. He skidded to a halt and turned, ready to chase down the remaining ambushers one by one. To his surprise, three stood their ground.
The one in the centre wore a peaked helmet which boasted a pair of enormous brass bull horns. He grunted a command, and his two offsiders fanned out to worry Mahtis' flanks. The one to the kroxigor's right was armed with a flesh hook. Nasty, but not a big threat. The one sidling to the left bore a two handed axe. This would be no faster to swing than Mahtis's own hammer, but one accurate chop could disable even the mighty lizard.
Mahtis took the initiative, feinting to the right with a heavy step. The hook wielder naturally backed off. The axe dwarf saw what he thought was an opening and moved closer, raising his weapon. Even though the kroxigor had his full weight on the wrong foot, this assailant had been lured into the reach of the long hammer.
Mahtis wound up for a powerful swing, raising the hammer above his right shoulder like he was playing a primitive bat and ball game. No armour, charmed or not, would deflect this strike.
To the lizardman's surprise, the hook wielder had closed again with surprising speed, after realizing that the hammer blow was not for him. Before Mahtis could launch his attack, the flesh hook appeared and buried itself into the meat at the front of his right shoulder and the dwarf tugged on it with both hands.
Mahtis had all of his weight committed to his right leg, thus the hook pulled him off balance. The axe dwarf would now be outside his reach, and would be able to strike before Mahtis recovered his own weapon from its follow through.
A split second was all Mahtis needed to adapt his attack. As he swung, the kroxigor released his weapon, which continued on a tangential path through the position previously occupied by the axe dwarf. The dwarf folded around the head of the rune hammer and came to rest at the end of a furrow in the sand some five yards long.
Without the counterbalance provided by the heavy hammer, Mahtis knew that he would lose his footing. Rather than try to regain it, he threw himself towards the dwarf behind him. The hook lost its grip and the straining dwarf staggered back several paces, also off balance. Mahtis landed on four limbs, with his legs coiled beneath him.
The lizardman did not bother to stand. Instead he surged forward and up from his low crouch, as unexpectedly as a crocodile from a bowl of porridge. With no weapon at hand, he used what the Old Ones had given him and clamped his teeth around the dwarf's neck.
The dwarf's iron collar saved him from instant decapitation, but Mahtis adopted his crocodilian cousin's tactic and performed a death roll. After three revolutions Mahtis grounded himself again and swung his head, flinging the dawi rag doll several yards away.
The last dwarf was a Castellan of Zharr Naggrund and he held his ground. He was clad from head to toe in meteoric dark iron armour and his horned helmet made him appear all the more threatening. In his hands he bore a curious weapon. It was a long staff with a loop of spiked chain at the end.
As Mahtis took a moment to catch his breath the castellan spoke menacingly. "Your runed weapon shows me you have allies amongst the betrayers. You have thus earned the enmity of the faithful. I will shatter your bones and drag your broken body to Hashut, there to appease his hunger in the flames of annihilation."
The kroxigor flexed his right shoulder to ensure there was no disabling injury from the welling hook wound. He was not one for pretty speeches, but he nodded to acknowledge the other's claim. "It will be so, if the Old One's will it, but, just in case they do not-"
Mahtis launched himself again, lunging with his fore claws and teeth at the castellan's throat. Rather than shrink away, the dawi stepped closer and thrust his staff above the kroxigor's brow. The loop of chain slipped under his muzzle and settled around his neck. The kroxigor slashed with his claws but the castellan remained tantalizingly out of reach. Every time Mahtis lunged, the chain clanked as a link was pulled into the hollow shaft of the staff. Struggle as he might, Mahtis could not release himself from the suffocating grip.
As the chain ratcheted tighter, the lizard's vision narrowed until all he could see were hate filled eyes beneath the horned helmet. Then this last image split neatly down the middle to be replaced by a vision far more disturbing. A grinning, mad eyed reptile.
"Naeten always strikes first!" the vision declared.
The grey saurus champion's charge, after being redirected four times, probably totalled a half mile in distance. Despite his frenzied effort, his declaration of primacy was sadly inaccurate. He had actually struck the last blow of the battle, cleaving the castellan of Zharr Naggrund from helm to gorget with his purloined orc axe.
By the time Mahtis had recovered his breath and his rune hammer, Caneghem and Joe were administering battlefield mercy on the last twitching dwarfs and Bob was tending the wounded saurus in the centre of the field. As the kroxigor joined his comrades Rychek and Scalenex also arrived, having tallied the number of javelins and darts which had found their mark. The victorious grey lizardmen quickly reordered their formations and awaited orders.
A thunder of hooves announced the arrival of Captain Mahrlecht at the head of his squadron of heavy cavalry. His sword was drawn and he had thunder on his brow.
"What brigands are these?” he demanded of the band of Lustrians.
Rychek averted catastrophe by interposing himself between the cold blooded warriors and the nervous lances of the riders. "Peace, Captain! These are our fellows and kin from the lost Temple City of Dyslexia. We had not hoped to see them, because our path lay many leagues north of their city, yet here they are, Praise the Old Ones, to assist us in our hour of need. Naeten! No!"
The saurus champion had crept behind the cavaliers with his axe raised.
"Just in case?"
"No, Naeten. Thanks for your concern, but no."
The saurus sadly trudged back to his troop, dragging the axe behind him.
"At this moment your "fellows" lie between me and my caravan." The captain still had his sword raised. "Let them yield."
Scalenex moved to Rychek's side and bowed his head with exaggerated respect. "Accept the greetings of our people. I see that you have the favour of our brothers, a thing not easily earned.” The ragged skink chief hissed at the company of saurus warriors who immediately limbered their weapons. "Our spears are at your service. Let us be your escort in these Dark Lands."
The captain grunted. "And what payment will you extort, lizard?"
"You possess nothing we desire. Our mission is to eradicate Chaos, a task you have already made easier. A trap needs bait."
The captain's hard expression did not waver but he sheathed his sword and pulled his horse away. He and his cavaliers passed around the Dyslexians and moved to inspect the waterlogged caravan.
The pack beasts were wallowing happily in the water. Those merchants who could swim were content to join them. The others clung desperately to their drowned carts and prayed to their gods.
Rychek whistled the beasts of burden back out of the shallow lake and the caravan fell back into line. There was no sign of Bessie until a plume of spray burst from the middle of the lake. She wouldn't return to shore until Rychek enticed her with a carrot. Bath time is the best time for a bastiladon.
Joe had thought himself the last to leave the water's side until he saw that Inebric of Karak Norn was still struggling in the shallow water. Joe was not a strong swimmer but he was still able drag the dwarf trader ashore.
Once he was safe on dry land Inebric retched vigorously. "The water..." he gasped, "... you saved me, lass... I could have swallowed some."
"I'm not a -" Joe began but then wisely clamped his mouth shut. The thunderous look on the dwarfs face indicated that this was not a good time for any contradiction. Inebric's fearsome visage darkened further as he poured mud out of the battered tankard which he still had clenched in his fist. "'Tis a grim business when the fallen ones strike at us with water. I'll not forget their treachery, and nor will I forget your part in this neither, lass."
The dwarf staggered away after his cart in search of something restorative to put in his tankard, leaving Joe to ponder whether the apparent progress in relations between dwarfs and lizardmen was going in a direction he was entirely comfortable with.
the special box said:
Sorry to leave you all on a cliffhanger for 2 weeks. I'm sure that
@n810 and
@Scalenex at least will think it was worth the wait!
