05 - Warrior Priest by Darius Hinks - (ebook by Undead) Read Free Book Online Page B

his master.
    Wolff wrinkled his nose with distaste. “Southerners,” he muttered.
    “Southerners?” asked Ratboy. “From Reikland?”
    Wolff shook his head. “No. They’re a long way from home, by the looks of
them. Averland, maybe, although half of them look like Tilean freelancers.
Sigmar knows what would drag them so far north, but I’m glad to see them here—whatever the reason.” He leant forward in his saddle and peered through the
darkness. “Although, I fear their general may have already been injured. See how
he rolls in his saddle?”
    Ratboy and Anna followed Wolff’s gaze. Near to the front of the regiment,
surrounded by standard bearers and musicians rode a knight whose armour was even
more ornate than the others. His winged helmet was trimmed with gold, and as he
lolled back and forth on his horse, the metal flashed in the moonlight, drawing
attention to his lurching movements.
    “Strange music for times such as these,” said Anna.
    The drummers and pipers that surrounded the general were skipping merrily
through the long grass, oblivious to the gentle Ostland rain that was banking
over the hills. They were playing a jig and the snatches of song that reached
Wolff and the others sounded oddly raucous. In the face of the shattered homes
and towers that covered the landscape, it seemed almost disrespectful.
    Wolff nodded. “Indeed.” He turned his horse around to face the shambling
figures that were staggering up the hillside behind them. Raphael was too weak
to walk, so the rest of the flagellants had fashioned a makeshift litter to drag
him along on. As they climbed slowly towards the priest, the sound of their
whips could be clearly heard, along with their frantic prayers. “Just a little
further,” he called out to them. “There’s an army ahead. I must speak with the
general. Wait here and I’ll send word if it’s safe to approach.”
    Raphael waved weakly in reply.
    Anna watched as the penitents stumbled towards them. She shook her head in
dismay at the awful violence they were inflicting on their own flesh. “At a word
from you they would drop those whips,” she said, glaring at Wolff. “Have you no
pity?”
    Ratboy flinched at the venom in her voice, but Wolff simply ignored her.
    As the three of them rode down the hill towards the troops, they saw the
injured general summon an officer to his side, who then rode out to meet them.
As he approached, they saw he was rake-thin with a long aristocratic face that
sneered disdainfully at them as he approached. He carried a brightly polished
shield, engraved with the same yellow swords as the banners, and as he reached
the top of the hill Ratboy marvelled at the fine, gold embroidery that covered
his clothes. He’d never seen such a flamboyantly dressed man. He wore a wide
drooping hat, topped with ostrich feathers and studded with pearls, and his
slashed leather jerkin was stretched tightly over a bright yellow silk doublet
that shimmered as he moved. His short cloak was edged with lace and even his
elaborate codpiece was stitched with gold thread. With his fine attire and
twirled, waxed moustaches, Ratboy imagined he would be more at home on an
elegant, sunlit boulevard than a muddy Ostland battlefield.
    “Good evening, father,” he said, with a curt nod to Wolff. “I’m Obermarshall
Hugo von Gryphius’ adjutant. He sends you his regards and offers you his
hospitality.” The valet looked less than hospitable however, and his thickly
accented voice was cool as he continued. “We’ll be making camp soon and
Obermarshall von Gryphius would be interested to hear news of the war,
especially from a senior priest such as yourself.”
    “We’d be glad of the general’s protection,” replied Wolff, “but I’m afraid
we’re only just heading north ourselves. I doubt we know much more than your
lord.”
    The valet pursed his lips in irritation, but gave a stiff bow all the same.
“Very well, I’m sure my