00.1 - The Blood Price by Dan Abnett, Mike Lee - (ebook by Undead) Read Free Book Online
Authors: Dan Abnett, Mike Lee - (ebook by Undead)
Tags: Warhammer
aside as they
wrestled the portals open. Beyond them the road continued through an open square—where almost two score soldiers slept or tended their weapons in a temporary
bivouac.
Malus felt his blood run cold. “Blessed Mother of Night,” he cursed under his
breath.
One of the warriors on the gate next to him raised his head at the sound.
“Did you say something, cousin?” he asked.
The highborn glanced up at the warrior, trying to think of a quick lie—and
met the spearman’s gaze. Too late, he saw the look of shock on the warrior’s
face as the warrior noticed the highborn’s dark eyes, and knew that their ruse
was finished.
“At them!” he yelled, smashing the rim of his oval shield into the spearman’s
face. The elf staggered backwards with a cry, blood spurting from his broken
nose, and the highborn buried his spear in the soldier’s throat.
Shouts of alarm rang through the air all around the druchii. Lhunara threw
off her cloak and helm and attacked the spearmen to her left with a feral
shriek. Silar dropped spear and shield and drew his long sword, readying himself
as the first of the soldiers camped in the square charged at them.
The second spearman to Malus’ right turned and dashed for his weapon. The
highborn reversed his grip on the spear and hurled it at the warrior, striking
the elf between the shoulder blades. “Stay beneath the arch!” he warned the
corsairs. They just had to hold the gate open long enough for their
reinforcements to arrive, but with seven against forty, he didn’t think they
were going to last very long.
Malus raced up to join Silar just as the enemy spearmen attacked. The young
knight knocked a thrusting spear aside and caught his attacker full in the face
with a backhanded cut. Another elf warrior charged forwards and stabbed
two-handed with his spear, driving the keen point through the mail covering
Silar’s left shoulder. Malus stepped in with a snarl and severed the spearman’s
left arm at the elbow, hurling him back in a spray of steaming blood. As Silar
pulled the spear free, the highborn stepped past him and caught another
spear-thrust against his looted shield. The enemy warrior, in his haste, had
forgotten his own shield, and Malus made him pay for the error. His blade
slipped beneath the edge of the spearman’s scale hauberk and plunged deep into
the warrior’s guts.
Screams and shouts of pain sounded all around Malus. More and more soldiers
were joining the battle, and he was forced to give ground in the face of a
thicket of stabbing spears. Two of the corsairs lay dead beneath the gate arch,
and another bled from a wound in his chest. Malus caught a trio of spearmen
swinging wide to his right, and realized they were trying to reach the gate.
They could use the oak barrier to push the druchii outside.
Cursing, Malus turned to rush at them—and then a spear-thrust from his left
glanced off his stolen helmet and knocked the rim down over his eyes. Yelling,
he raised his shield to ward off another blow and fumbled with the unfamiliar
helm, trying to shift it around and hold onto his sword at the same time. There
was a searing pain in his left leg as a spear point sank into his thigh. Furious
and blind, he knocked the weapon loose with the rim of his shield. Then a huge
impact on his back knocked him off his feet and a triumphant roar echoed in his
ears.
Malus covered himself with his shield as he hit the ground, and the
bone-jarring impact sent the helmet flying. Heavy footfalls shook the ground all
around him; the highborn looked about frantically and realized that the bulk of
the raiders had finally arrived. Screaming corsairs raced out of the night and
swept in a black tide over the startled defenders, driving them past the gate
arch and back into the square. Within seconds the battle was receding into the
distance as the surviving spearmen retreated deeper into the town.
Safe for the moment, Malus cast aside his
wrestled the portals open. Beyond them the road continued through an open square—where almost two score soldiers slept or tended their weapons in a temporary
bivouac.
Malus felt his blood run cold. “Blessed Mother of Night,” he cursed under his
breath.
One of the warriors on the gate next to him raised his head at the sound.
“Did you say something, cousin?” he asked.
The highborn glanced up at the warrior, trying to think of a quick lie—and
met the spearman’s gaze. Too late, he saw the look of shock on the warrior’s
face as the warrior noticed the highborn’s dark eyes, and knew that their ruse
was finished.
“At them!” he yelled, smashing the rim of his oval shield into the spearman’s
face. The elf staggered backwards with a cry, blood spurting from his broken
nose, and the highborn buried his spear in the soldier’s throat.
Shouts of alarm rang through the air all around the druchii. Lhunara threw
off her cloak and helm and attacked the spearmen to her left with a feral
shriek. Silar dropped spear and shield and drew his long sword, readying himself
as the first of the soldiers camped in the square charged at them.
The second spearman to Malus’ right turned and dashed for his weapon. The
highborn reversed his grip on the spear and hurled it at the warrior, striking
the elf between the shoulder blades. “Stay beneath the arch!” he warned the
corsairs. They just had to hold the gate open long enough for their
reinforcements to arrive, but with seven against forty, he didn’t think they
were going to last very long.
Malus raced up to join Silar just as the enemy spearmen attacked. The young
knight knocked a thrusting spear aside and caught his attacker full in the face
with a backhanded cut. Another elf warrior charged forwards and stabbed
two-handed with his spear, driving the keen point through the mail covering
Silar’s left shoulder. Malus stepped in with a snarl and severed the spearman’s
left arm at the elbow, hurling him back in a spray of steaming blood. As Silar
pulled the spear free, the highborn stepped past him and caught another
spear-thrust against his looted shield. The enemy warrior, in his haste, had
forgotten his own shield, and Malus made him pay for the error. His blade
slipped beneath the edge of the spearman’s scale hauberk and plunged deep into
the warrior’s guts.
Screams and shouts of pain sounded all around Malus. More and more soldiers
were joining the battle, and he was forced to give ground in the face of a
thicket of stabbing spears. Two of the corsairs lay dead beneath the gate arch,
and another bled from a wound in his chest. Malus caught a trio of spearmen
swinging wide to his right, and realized they were trying to reach the gate.
They could use the oak barrier to push the druchii outside.
Cursing, Malus turned to rush at them—and then a spear-thrust from his left
glanced off his stolen helmet and knocked the rim down over his eyes. Yelling,
he raised his shield to ward off another blow and fumbled with the unfamiliar
helm, trying to shift it around and hold onto his sword at the same time. There
was a searing pain in his left leg as a spear point sank into his thigh. Furious
and blind, he knocked the weapon loose with the rim of his shield. Then a huge
impact on his back knocked him off his feet and a triumphant roar echoed in his
ears.
Malus covered himself with his shield as he hit the ground, and the
bone-jarring impact sent the helmet flying. Heavy footfalls shook the ground all
around him; the highborn looked about frantically and realized that the bulk of
the raiders had finally arrived. Screaming corsairs raced out of the night and
swept in a black tide over the startled defenders, driving them past the gate
arch and back into the square. Within seconds the battle was receding into the
distance as the surviving spearmen retreated deeper into the town.
Safe for the moment, Malus cast aside his