Gotrek and Felix: The Anthology Read Free Page A

the moonscape of the Worlds Edge Mountains struck him as more ostentatious than the most lavish guild hall. It was as if some nobleman had allowed his beautiful daughter to walk naked and unescorted through the worst slums of Altdorf. She might not show any outward display of wealth, but the noble’s confidence in her safety spoke of great reserves of hidden power.
    Gotrek grumbled under his breath as they walked towards the keep that rose in the centre of the town. ‘Not proper. A dressed-up defeat.’
    ‘What do you mean?’ asked Felix.
    Gotrek snorted. ‘The kin of Skalf Dragonslayer lost Karak Azgal, and couldn’t win it back. Instead they built a town on top of it and charged others to do their fighting for them.’ He flashed a thick-fingered hand at the prosperous houses. ‘All this was built not on mining or smithing. It was built on fees and taxes taken from the fools who come to seek their fortune below.’
    Felix looked around again, seeing it in a new light. ‘So it’s no different than Deadgate.’
    ‘Aye,’ said Gotrek. ‘A marble-walled cesspit instead of a clapboard one.’
    The streets around the town’s central keep were filled with heavily armed dwarfs with the dragon of Karak Azgal on their shields, as well as a more motley collection of mercenaries, adventurers and fighting men, all hunching stoically in the rain. The square to the north of the keep had been turned into a makeshift military camp, with tents of all shapes and descriptions lined up in ragged rows. Recruiters were out in force, offering Thane Thorgrin’s coin to fight the greenskins, and ale and food sellers were carting their wares around in barrows and doing brisk business with the troops and applicants.
    Gotrek ignored it all and strode through the open doors of the keep itself. A table had been set up under a tent in the middle of the courtyard, and would-be warriors were lined up to make their mark in the recruitment book. Gotrek ignored this too and stumped towards a door that led into the keep itself. The dwarf guards who stood on either side of it stepped in his way, and a dwarf sergeant crossed to him, his hand on his axe.
    ‘What’s your business here, Slayer?’
    ‘I want a licence to enter the hold,’ said Gotrek. ‘I seek the cave spider.’
    ‘Licences are not being issued,’ said the sergeant. ‘Not until Stinkfoot’s been dealt with. You want to go down, join up. You’ll have plenty of fighting.’
    ‘I don’t care about your fight. I go to my doom.’
    The sergeant’s eyes went cold. ‘You don’t want to help your race? You don’t want to help your brothers save their hold?’
    Gotrek spat at his feet. ‘You don’t want to save the hold. You want to save your little sky-bare surface town so you can go on selling licences and candle stubs.’
    ‘ What did you say?’ The sergeant’s eyes had gone from ice to fire in a blink.
    Felix swallowed and dropped his hand to his hilt. If this came to blows it would be bad. Gotrek might find his doom at the hands of fellow dwarfs, or worse, he might slaughter half the settlement.
    ‘If you saved the hold,’ continued Gotrek. ‘You’d lose all your business. You’d have to work for a living.’
    ‘Get out,’ said the sergeant through clenched teeth. ‘Before I throw you out. We don’t want help from the likes of you.’
    ‘On the contrary,’ said a voice from behind him. ‘A Slayer is just what I need.’
    The sergeant looked around as a white-bearded dwarf in gromril plate stepped through the door into the rain, followed by a retinue of dwarf Hammerers. The sergeant and the guards saluted him but he looked only at Gotrek. He had a bulging gut beneath a breastplate that had been custom-made to accommodate it, and a round, pink face under his white beard. He looked like a shop keep, but the fine armour and the deference of the guards said otherwise.
    ‘Thane Thorgrin,’ said the sergeant. ‘I was just removing this–’
    ‘Stand down,