Contents

Cover

The Wolf and the Rat – C L Werner

About the Author

An Extract from ‘Cursed City’

A Black Library Publication

eBook license

THE WOLF AND THE RAT

C L Werner

Beneath the display of smug arrogance, the Wolf could smell the tang of fear. There was no masking the scent, not from the lord of Ulfenkarn. Radukar let his lip curl back in the faintest hint of a smile, one pearly fang glistening in the flickering candlelight.

There was a moment where Radukar could see the confidence in the speaker’s attitude falter. His voice caught, and from the base of the dais the messenger’s eyes darted to the guards positioned either side of the Wolf’s throne. Though they stood at the foot of the steps, their brutish heads were on the same level as that of their seated master. Kosargi Nightguard – vicious ogors who’d served Radukar in life and continued to obey his every command in undeath. Even to a vampire they were an imposing sight, and a formidable menace.

‘These terms are generous,’ the messenger said.

Radukar tapped one of his clawed fingers against the arm of his throne, digging his nail into the wood and letting the splinters scatter to the floor. The chair had been carved for a prince of the ven Altens from shadeoak, one of the toughest woods known in Shyish, and this reminder that the ogors were far from the most fearsome thing in the Ebon Citadel seemed not to go unnoticed by the messenger. The vampire’s flesh was already pale, and it was impossible for the undead to sweat, but Radukar could smell the fear crawling through the messenger’s gut like an infestation of maggots.

‘We only want what is our right,’ the messenger said, making a show of assuming a bold posture, as though such theatrics could deceive the Wolf.

‘Valac Chrobak.’ Radukar let the name hiss from between his fangs. ‘What do you expect to gain from this? What is to be your reward?’

‘The governing council will be re-established,’ Valac said.

‘And Kritza has told you that you will sit on this council?’ The question came in a low growl.

All pretence of Valac’s bravado was suddenly extinguished, and he waved his arms in a placating gesture. ‘There is a place for you on the council…’

Radukar leaned forwards, his crimson eyes boring down into the other vampire. ‘Is that so? I am to be permitted to share power, am I? A council of equals, is it?’ He barked with cruel laughter. ‘You will sit at the table as my equal, Valac Chrobak? Were you not a traitor I would appoint you as my jester. You have a flair for the absurd.’

The doors at the far end of the hall swung open as the mouldering servitors admitted a tall, broad-shouldered woman dressed in black. Natasyia’s red hair was pulled back into a single braid, which draped over her shoulder, weighted down by a ruby that glistened like blood. Her complexion had a milky paleness to it, somehow more graceful than the sickly hue of Valac’s. She barely gave the messenger a glance as she approached the throne, then dropped to one knee before Radukar and bowed her head.

‘It is as this glib scallywag says, milord,’ Natasyia declared, her words twisted by the piratical jargon of her old life. Before becoming seneschal of the Ebon Citadel and receiving the Blood Kiss, she’d been the most notorious corsair to prowl the waters of Banshee’s Bay. Radukar’s intervention had kept the princes of Mournhold from hanging her. Now, with the city reborn as Ulfenkarn under the Wolf’s rule, Natasyia enjoyed power far surpassing that of a mere pirate captain. ‘This scug or his friends got into the vaults and took the pelt.’ She turned a withering glance at Valac.

Radukar rose from his seat and pointed down at Valac. ‘Do you know what you’ve taken from me?’ he snarled. ‘The hide of my father-in-darkness, last of the Vyrkos Blood-kings!’ He splayed his fingers, curling them until his hands resembled vulturine talons. ‘I peeled that skin from him after I bested him in combat and proved myself the true master of the Vyrkos! Before ever I sailed the Impaler’s Gift to this city and rescued it from Slaughn’s Chaos hordes, that pelt was my most precious treasure. A tangible reminder of my impossible victory. Evidence that my destiny is to conquer and command.’

Valac shifted uneasily, his eyes widening as he felt the Wolf’s ire focused upon him. ‘The hide will be returned to you. You need only meet our demands. Lord Kritza–’

A gesture from Radukar sent his Kosargi Nightguard lumbering towards Valac. ‘Kritza sent you here to die. Surely you know that.’

The messenger sprang back. His weapons had been taken from him before entering the throne room, but he whipped out a dagger from some hidden pocket. Animalistic fury contorted Valac’s face, but it was the desperate rage of a cornered rat, not the vicious strength of a predator. He leaped forward, but as soon as he was in motion, Natasyia struck him and threw him aside. He crashed to the floor, then turned to stare up at her with a look of horror. In the next moment, one of the Kosargi grabbed him and lifted him up by his head. As Valac struggled in the ogor’s crushing grip, the other Nightguard let its halberd drop and reached into its belt to retrieve a sharpened stake. The guard rammed it into Valac’s chest with a sickening impact, shattering ribs as it drove up through the vampire’s heart, abruptly silencing his protestations.

‘Hoist that carrion up onto the battlements,’ Natasyia told the Kosargi. She scowled at Valac’s corpse as the skin began to rot and peel away. ‘Let that scum be a warning of the price of mutiny.’

Radukar sank back into his throne while the Nightguard carried the traitor’s body away. ‘So, the Rat Prince thinks to bargain for power,’ he spat. ‘Kritza should have been satisfied with simply being alive.’ The Wolf gnashed his fangs in anger that the sly nobleman had survived destruction. When Kritza had been thrown into the corpse-cart for disposal, that should have been the end of him. Instead, he’d somehow managed to revive himself and escape. Radukar had underestimated his enemy’s tenacity. It was a mistake he wouldn’t make a second time.

‘Valac claimed Kritza would meet with you to exchange the Vyrkos pelt for your blood-oath,’ Natasyia said.

Radukar nodded. ‘Kritza and his conspirators are demanding that I restore the old council – to share rule with them.’ He flashed a toothy smile at his seneschal. ‘I am to meet them at Grimmarrow Shipyard to sign the compact they’ve drawn up.’

Natasyia’s lips parted in a carnivorous grin, the sort of smile she’d worn when executing prisoners back in her pirate days. ‘If Kritza thinks to trap you, you can trap him instead, milord. The mutineers would likely spot the Kosargi if you brought them, but they’d have a harder time noticing the Deathrattle. I could surround the shipyard with the household guard. Even if they were spotted, they’d be mistaken for Ulfenwatch patrols.’

‘See to it,’ Radukar pronounced. The Wolf swiftly descended from the dais, his cloak billowing around him as he stalked from the hall. ‘I am impatient to teach these traitors that no one defies me in my own city!’ His voice trailed away in a lupine growl. ‘Kritza will learn that there are worse things waiting for him when he’s once more in my power.’

The Grimmarrow Shipyard was wreathed in darkness and decay. The hulks of half-finished vessels cast eerie shadows about the setting, the beams of their hulls looking like the bones of ancient godbeasts rotting beneath the sinister light of the Shyish Nadir. An entire fleet of stillborn whaling ships littered the place, their construction abandoned in the cataclysm that transformed bustling Mournhold into vampire-
haunted Ulfenkarn. Between the dry docks, the tools and materials of the builders were strewn. The rank stink of pitch was overwhelming as neglected barrels failed and began to leak. The stench was enough to keep the area free of the bloodthirsty bats that infested most of the city, but their place was taken by slinking diregoyles and packs of mangy, half-necrotic cats. The gnawed carcass of some luckless trespasser who’d thought to find refuge in the shipyard poked out from beneath a tumbled heap of lumber – a solemn reminder that there was no safety for the living to be found here.

The undead scavengers and lurking ghouls didn’t menace the white-cloaked intruder who prowled alone through their territory, however. Senses keen to the spark of mortality could likewise detect the deathly energies that emanated from the figure. Even the lowest beast in Ulfenkarn could recognise the dread aspect of the monster that ruled the city.

A dark fur cap cast Radukar’s wolfish features in shadow as he marched boldly through the shipyard. The white cloak that fell from his shoulders was fashioned from the pelt of the giant, two-headed wolf Vilnas, and seemed to bristle with the vampire’s smouldering rage. Radukar had killed the beast long before ever venturing to Mournhold, slaughtering the creature that guarded the tomb of the vampiric emperor, Morkan. That feat had been accomplished when Radukar had still been mortal, and had impressed the Vyrkos enough to bestow on him the Blood Kiss… and thereby ensure their own doom.

Radukar’s hand fell to the sword that hung from his belt – another trophy from the Tomb of Morkan. The barrow-blade had drank deeply of vampire blood when the Wolf had turned upon the Vyrkos, slaughtering the entire tribe. Now the only Vyrkos to be found in Shyish were those he’d ushered into his Thirsting Court.

His fangs gleamed in the starlight. After this meeting with Kritza, there would be even fewer to represent the bloodline.

The audacity of the Rat Prince! To dare to steal from the master of Ulfenkarn! Whatever else happened, Radukar was determined that Kritza would regret his boldness. The traitor should have found some hole to hide in, grateful to have escaped at all. Now he squandered such miraculous good fortune by pitting himself against the Wolf once more. Radukar could almost find such tenacity admirable, if it weren’t so pathetic.

The Wolf felt the presence of the other vampires before he saw them. He’d known the moment Valac had arrived at the Ebon Citadel that Kritza wouldn’t meet with him alone. There were half a dozen other vampires with the Rat Prince – idiots who’d been swayed by the lure of power he had offered them. Ambition was ever the nemesis of prudence.

Radukar stopped beneath the prow of a hull with the name Majestic Vengeance carved across it. A theatrical touch from the self-important Kritza. This was the place. Even if he hadn’t sensed the other vampires nearby, he knew the traitor’s extravagance wouldn’t have allowed him to overlook such a spot to make the trade.

‘I know you’re there,’ Radukar growled. He stepped out into the gap between the Majestic Vengeance and the hull of the ship beside it. He wanted to show the traitors that he had no need to be cautious. They were of no threat to him. ‘Return what you’ve stolen and I may even allow you to live.’

There was a stirring among the shadows. ‘Mercy from the Usurper? I’d expect patience from a vargskyr first!’

Out from the gloom stepped Kritza. He was a tall, slender man, his features stamped with the arrogance of pampered nobility. Silken leggings and a rich double-breasted coat complemented the carefully groomed appearance. Even when hiding from Radukar’s wrath, Kritza must have found some tailor to make his thrall. The other vampire moved with a skittering step, guiding himself with a gilded walking stick fitted with an orb of bloodstone at its top. He stopped a few yards from the Majestic Vengeance and made a sideways gesture with his cane. His retinue crept out from the dark, all of them arrayed in the extravagant finery of Mournhold’s old nobility.

‘You’ve bragged to the dragon about stealing from his hoard,’ Radukar said. His gaze swept across Kritza and his companions. Only the Rat Prince was able to meet the Wolf’s fiery eyes; the others flinched and shrank back. ‘Do you expect to survive this foolishness?’

Kritza’s face pulled back in a sneer, the same expression of disdain the mortal nobles had shown Radukar before he had brought their city crashing into ruins. With a flourish, the Rat Prince reached beneath his coat and brought forth the desiccated hide of the last Vyrkos Blood-king – Radukar’s sire-in-darkness. ‘I have this, and if you want it back you will agree to my terms.’ He looked aside at the other conspirators. ‘Our terms,’ he corrected himself. ‘We know how precious this relic is to you. That you’d do anything to have it safely back in your possession.’ He brandished the pelt as though waving a rag before a bullgor in the arena. ‘Something to recall to your past triumphs? So you don’t forget your victory over the Vyrkos?’ He shook his head. ‘Sentimentality is the bane of peasants. It is why the low-born are unfit to rule. A red-handed pirate has his uses, but he really must remember his place.’

Radukar’s lips curled back from his fangs. ‘If the princes of Mournhold had been competent rulers, they’d never have fallen so easily into my grasp. Those born to power become ignorant to its value. They don’t know what it is to hunger for it, and therefore don’t appreciate it until it is stripped from them.’

‘I am taking it back,’ Kritza snapped. ‘I am taking it all back.’ He waved the pelt at Radukar again. ‘Things will be as they once were. The city will be ruled by the old families and you… you will remember your place!’

‘The arrogance of madness,’ Radukar retorted. ‘A little while ago, I considered sparing Valac to serve me as court jester, but now I realise that you’re a far greater fool than he could ever have been.’ The Wolf shifted his attention away from Kritza and regarded the other vampires. ‘Tell me, which of these traitors was brazen enough to steal from me? I know such direct action is beneath the presumed dignity of the Rat Prince. Tell me, Kritza, which of these idiots is a bigger fool than you?’

‘None of them,’ said a voice behind him. The Wolf turned and watched as Natasyia emerged from the shadows. In her wake came a dozen armoured skeletons, halberds and spears gripped in their fleshless hands. All around the shipyard, other Ulfenwatch soldiers silently shuffled into position, forming a cordon around the scene. A single glance at the hate in his seneschal’s face told Radukar that the traitor within the Ebon Citadel was the former pirate lord.

‘So, you stole the pelt from me,’ Radukar growled. ‘Was it your idea or his to throw everything away for such recklessness?’

Natasyia circled around Radukar, her eyes boring into him. ‘You promised me power, Radukar, but you didn’t warn me of the price I’d have to pay!’ Her hand closed around a beam protruding from an unfinished hull. Under the pressure of her fingers, the pitch-coated wood exploded into splinters. ‘Strength to match a cryptkraken! The swiftness of a deepmare! The keenness of a tide tiger! All these things you promised!’

‘And you have them,’ Radukar rebuffed her.

The seneschal glowered at him. ‘I have them, but there’s no pleasure to be derived from such power! No satisfaction! You didn’t warn me that everything would feel hollow, that there’d be no joy or excitement, only the futile chase for sensation. Anything to make me feel…’

Radukar laughed at her agony. ‘Alive? You want to feel alive again, little pirate? That is the one thing you can never have. You’ve taken the Blood Kiss and there’s no going back. Whatever you do to betray me, you will always be my creature.’

Natasyia made to leap for Radukar, but Kritza held his stick out to block her path. His eyes glittered with verminous cunning. ‘Don’t let him goad you,’ he warned her. ‘I made that mistake once. Never again.’ Kritza smiled and pointed to the cordon of skeletons. ‘Don’t you see it is the Usurper who’s made the mistake? The pelt drew him to us, and now you’ve brought your troops to keep him from escaping.’

A withering smile shaped itself across Natasyia’s face as she glared at Radukar.

Kritza’s retinue jeered as the Ulfenwatch closed in.

‘You thought we would share power with you again, Usurper?’ the Rat Prince mocked. ‘To return to the system you used to steal our city from us? There will be no compact, Radukar, no place in the new order for you.’

A nod from Kritza and his conspirators drew their blades. One of the vampires broke away from the group. Dashing between the ships, he retrieved an oil lamp from where it had been hidden inside a box of tools. He thumbed open its catch, spurring it into full flame. An overhand swing sent it crashing against the Majestic Vengeance, followed by a loud whoosh as the skeletal ship ignited. The beams had been slathered with pitch and the fire swiftly spread, building towards a roaring conflagration.

Radukar edged away from the burning hull, glaring defiantly at Kritza and Natasyia. He slowly drew his sword as the other vampires surrounded him. A spectral chill emanated from the corroded barrow-blade. ‘Which of you will be first to cross swords with your master?’ Radukar snarled.

‘We aren’t here to fight you,’ Kritza sneered. He waved his fellow conspirators back before the Vyrkos taint provoked them into action. ‘We’re here to watch you burn.’ He pointed his stick at the blazing ship. ‘That is to be your pyre, Usurper!’

Natasyia gestured to the armoured skeletons. ‘Push him back into the fire!’ she commanded. The Ulfenwatch lowered their spears and slowly converged on Radukar.

The Wolf barked with laughter. ‘You’re to be congratulated, Kritza! Bringing your entire rotten conspiracy to one place! You’ve saved me from ferreting the traitors from their holes.’ He scowled at Natasyia. ‘I knew you were bold enough to defy me, but I didn’t think you were stupid enough to do so!’

The seneschal gnashed her fangs in fury, but didn’t let her savagery overwhelm her.

The Ulfenwatch continued their slow march. Radukar made no move to escape, nor did he even adopt a defensive pose as they came closer. Instead he simply laughed.

‘Did you really think I would place that much trust in you?’ he said, his voice dripping with scorn. ‘Did you think I’d leave any possibility that you could use my own guards against me? You should have paid more attention, Natasyia, before joining Kritza’s intrigues!’ Radukar waved his hand in an arcane gesture before the marching skeletons. The Ulfenwatch fell still at once, each one frozen in place by the Wolf’s unspoken command.

‘Kill him!’ Natasyia shouted, but the skeletons ignored her order.

‘Before we left the Ebon Citadel, I took the precaution of exerting my own will over the guards,’ Radukar said, ‘in case you took it in mind to use them against me.’

‘This changes nothing!’ Kritza declared, though it was clear from his expression he was unsettled by Radukar’s anticipation of their scheme. He composed himself once more, then nodded to Natasyia. ‘We’ve still drawn him away from his castle. He’s within our grasp!’ The Rat Prince gestured to the other vampires. ‘Kill the Usurper and the city belongs to us!’

The vampires took up Kritza’s cry. They charged Radukar en masse, their vicious Vyrkos blood driving them into a frenzy. They threw aside the unmoving skeletons that stood in their way before launching themselves at the Wolf.

Radukar met the traitors with his own assault. Flinging himself forwards, he whipped his barrow-blade out in a scything arc. One of the vampires was struck mid-leap, her body cleft in half by the Wolf’s sword. She hissed up at him from the ground, but his stamping boot crushed her skull before she could sink her fangs into his heel.

A second sought to parry the sweep of Radukar’s sword with his own blade, but the Wolf’s corroded steel proved far stronger than that of his adversary. It sheared through the lesser weapon as though it were paper and continued on to sever the arm that held it. The mutilated vampire recoiled and clutched at his wound. Radukar was on him at once, seizing him by the neck and drawing him close. Blood sprayed across the Wolf’s twin-headed cloak as his fangs ripped out the other vampire’s throat. He tossed the mutilated corpse aside as though it were an old rag.

Radukar wiped his gore-stained mouth with the back of his hand. ‘Which of you fools is next?’

The Wolf’s challenge echoed through the shipyard. Standing before the blazing hulk of the Majestic Vengeance, with the bodies of two slaughtered foes at his feet, Radukar presented an imposing sight; too imposing for the traitors Kritza had gathered into his conspiracy. What had been a ferocious assault a moment before had now degenerated into a rout as the vampires turned and fled.

Radukar exerted his monstrous will, denying the predatory instinct that compelled him to give chase to his enemies. There was no need to pursue them, and howls of frustrated despair rang out as the vampires discovered there was no escape. The Wolf grinned, picturing their surprise as they ran straight into his waiting Kosargi Nightguard.

Two figures came slinking back towards the burning Majestic Vengeance. Kritza bore a frantic aspect that reminded Radukar of an admiral he’d once done battle with off the coast of Necros. The Impaler’s Gift had lured a fleet of galleys into the shoals, smashing them to pieces upon the rocks. The Wolf had never forgotten the admiral’s face as he unwittingly led his ships into the trap – the face of a man who was realising too late the magnitude of the mistake he’d made.

Natasyia had returned with the Rat Prince, her cutlass in one hand, its blade reflecting the flames from the still burning ship. The swaggering confidence from before had left her. Like Kritza, she’d assumed the look of a hunted thing. Better than the rest of the conspirators, she knew the awesome power of Radukar’s ogors.

‘You brought your bodyguards,’ Natasyia cursed. ‘Even while I was deploying the Ulfenwatch to trap you.’

‘You were too eager to put your scheme into action,’ Radukar told her. ‘Too intent on your plan. You should have noticed the Kosargi following us. Treachery is crime enough, but incompetence is unforgivable.’

Natasyia spun around, exhibiting the supernatural speed bestowed on her by the Blood Kiss. Before Kritza could react, she snatched the Vyrkos pelt from his hand. She shook it at Radukar as though it were a captured flag. ‘I still have this,’ she snarled. Her eyes darted from side to side as the Kosargi lumbered towards them out of the darkness. Each carried a massive stake of sharpened bloodthorn, the bodies of treacherous vampires spitted upon their cruel shafts.

The faithless seneschal dashed past the advancing ogors to reach the blazing form of the Majestic Vengeance. She held the pelt close to the snarling flames. ‘Call them off, Radukar,’ she demanded. ‘Send them away or your precious treasure burns!’

Kritza crowed with pleasure at the sudden turnabout. ‘Sentimentality, Usurper,’ he laughed, his face bearing a defiant look once more. ‘We still hold power over you. You’ll do as we say or pay the price!’

The Wolf glowered at the Rat Prince. ‘If you were wise, you’d have fled Ulfenkarn while you had the chance. But seldom is arrogance married to wisdom. I’ve prepared a special stake for you on the Ebon Citadel’s battlements. It overlooks the ruins of your old palace. An appropriate view for you to look upon as your own weight drags you down and your heart is slowly skewered.’ Radukar smiled at the fright that shone in Kritza’s eyes as he described the vampire’s fate. He shifted his attention to Natasyia. ‘You’ve been a great disappointment to me. I bestowed the gifts of the Vyrkos on you, made you my seneschal, because I thought you were not unlike me. You described all the mortal sensations that you’ve lost, but not the one that burns brighter than before – the thrill of the hunt, Natasyia! How can any mortal experience compare to that which we now know! Yet you failed to appreciate this, and instead threw your lot in with preening nobles like Kritza!’

‘Stay back!’ Natasyia warned as Radukar started towards her. She waved the Vyrkos pelt at him. ‘Stay back or it burns!’

Radukar stopped and fixed her with his gaze. ‘Even now, you don’t understand. When you received the Blood Kiss you became my creature, and my creature you still remain.’ The Wolf exerted his fearsome will. Horror twisted Natasyia’s face as she ceased to flourish the pelt and fell still, her body becoming rigid as she responded to Radukar’s mental command.

‘The scheme you hatched was audacious,’ Radukar said. ‘Sentimentality is a weakness you’ve exposed, Kritza,’ he said. ‘One that I now rid myself of.’ His eyes bored into Natasyia’s and the Wolf’s visage curled into a mask of bestial fury. He snarled a single word: ‘Burn!’

Natasyia’s eyes went wide with terror as her body responded to Radukar’s order. She tried to resist as she moved towards the dancing flames, and for an instant managed to drag her foot back, but against the Wolf’s power she was ultimately helpless. Step by ghastly step, she moved towards the fire-wrapt hull, the pelt clenched in her tightened fist. Smoke emanated from her body as the heat washed over her. Then her hair and clothes ignited. Natasyia howled in agony but continued to step into the blaze, incapable of breaking free of Radukar’s will.

The Wolf continued to watch until Natasyia was engulfed in flames. He felt a deep bitterness watching the precious pelt she carried being consumed along with her. It had been a treasured memento from his past, but it had also become a hazard to his rule and his ambition. Destroyed, it could never again be used against him by his enemies.

‘Your schemes have gone up in smoke. Now you go to join my disloyal seneschal,’ Radukar growled, swinging around to face Kritza. He exerted his fearsome will upon the other vampire, but his brow knotted in surprise when the Rat Prince didn’t respond to his command. Kritza remained where he was, the oily smile working itself back onto his face.

‘You’ve no hold over me,’ Kritza smirked. ‘You relinquished that power when you threw me aside and left me to die.’ He leaned on his walking stick, his eyes glittering with a crimson light. ‘I’m not one of your Vyrkos whelps any more. I’ve become something else. Something beyond your control.’

Radukar flashed his fangs at Kritza. ‘Then I’ll leave it to my Kosargi to dispose of you,’ he hissed. A gesture from the Wolf brought the undead ogors converging upon Kritza.

Before the Nightguard could reach him, a sudden transformation came over the Rat Prince. The walking stick clattered to the ground as the hands that held it evaporated. Where moments before a noble had stood, there was now a mass of writhing brown fur in his place. The Rat Prince had become a swarm of gaunt, hideous rodents.

The shape disintegrated into dozens of bodies that spilled to the ground. The squealing rats scattered in every direction, skittering between the hulking Kosargi, too small and swift to be stopped by the ogors.

Radukar sprang forwards and seized one of the vermin before it could escape, but the lone rat dissipated into a puff of greasy mist. He wiped the foul residue on his cloak. ‘An interesting trick, Kritza,’ he hissed. ‘But when our paths cross again, I’ll be ready for it.’

Radukar walked past the Majestic Vengeance as he made his way out of the shipyard, his Kosargi falling into step behind him. The conflagration had spread to other hulls now, and alarm bells rang out in Ulfenkarn’s slums. Soon the mortal inhabitants would rush to the scene to try to contain the flames and keep them from reaching their own slovenly hovels. Radukar could almost smell their mounting fear on the wind.

The Wolf paused and cast a last look back at the inferno. He thought of the treasure he’d sacrificed, then his mind turned to the verminous Kritza. Perhaps after their next encounter Radukar would have a new pelt to replace the one he’d lost.

Whatever hole he concealed himself in, however dark his hiding place, as long as Kritza remained in Ulfenkarn the Wolf would track him down. There was only one lord of the Cursed City, and he’d tolerate no pretenders to his throne.

About the Author

C L Werner’s Black Library credits include the Age of Sigmar novels Overlords of the Iron Dragon, Profit’s Ruin, The Tainted Heart and Beastgrave, the novella Scion of the Storm in Hammers of Sigmar, and the Warhammer Horror novel Castle of Blood. For Warhammer he has written the novels Deathblade, Mathias Thulmann: Witch Hunter, Runefang and Brunner the Bounty Hunter, the Thanquol and Boneripper series and Warhammer Chronicles: The Black Plague series. For Warhammer 40,000 he has written the Space Marine Battles novel The Siege of Castellax. Currently living in the American south-west, he continues to write stories of mayhem and madness set in the Warhammer worlds.

An extract from Cursed City.

A heavy fog rolled over the waterfront and into crooked streets and alleyways. The greasy tang of the Cor Mortifus percolated through the air, redolent of the grisly creatures that swam and crawled in its murky sea. Blackened beads of condensation dripped down crumbling walls and sagging roofs to gather in shadowy puddles amid the cobblestones. The sharp chirps of bats and the flutter of leathery wings drifted down from the night sky. From a distance, wolf-like howls and ghostly shrieks sent their macabre echoes down into the city.

Ulfenkarn. Perched on cliffs overlooking Banshee’s Bay, the great city on the island of Szargorond had stood proud and defiant, a bastion of mankind in the unforgiving chill of Shyish. Long had it stood as a light amid the darkness. But no light burns forever in the realm of Nagash. When the shadows finally came for the city once known as Mournhold, they did so with a vengeance.

Once the sun had set and night ruled the streets, only desperation could make the mortal inhabitants of the city stray abroad. For they were no longer alone. The old nobility had been cast down and new masters now ruled over them. An aristocracy of the night.

Annika Haustel was desperate. The last two years had been harder on her than the twenty before them. Her parents were dead. Her husband was missing, his ship lost at sea so long ago it was delusion to think he was alive. For a time, she’d enjoyed the support of a middle-aged chandler, but he’d been crippled fighting off a hungry blood-bat one night and could no longer earn enough to feed himself, much less anyone else. A younger brother was the only family she had left, aside from her child, Milja. Her brother had taken him in, but only so long as Annika could pay for the extra food. As he put it, he wasn’t going to starve his own family to feed his sister’s brat.

Thieving came easily to Annika. The short stature and slight build that came from a starveling existence all her life suited the trade. Her reflexes were keen, her fingers deft, and her eyes sharp. She could see in the dark almost like a cat and was able to evaluate the contents of a purse from ten yards away. It was natural for her to put these talents to use. The problem for Annika was that most of the people in Ulfenkarn were as poor as she was. Seldom did she find a good prospect.

Tonight, Annika was feeling pleased with herself as she stole through the dark alleyways between the rotting buildings of the Ostvein district. She’d found a black-market dealer hurrying away from a rendezvous with a customer, and the purse hanging from his belt had been deliciously heavy. A flash of her knife and she had her prize and was darting into a side street. Perhaps once the man realised it was gone he’d recall the woman who’d brushed so close to him. Then he’d raise the alarm. Or perhaps not. The Volkshaufen would be apt to ask questions about where he’d got his wealth to begin with.

Annika stopped in the shadow of an archway beside a rope-maker’s shop and jiggled the purse in her hand. It felt heavier than she’d expected. She pulled the bag open and teased a piece of its contents out into her palm. Her eyes widened with wonder. It wasn’t a bit of whalebone she held, but something much smoother. Her breath caught in her throat and she rushed to a spot of moonlight that had fought its way down through the fog. Even in such feeble illumination, she knew what she held was pearl.

Pearl! Annika’s heart thundered with the promise of what this wealth would mean for her. She could rent a room of her own instead of sleeping under a table in Baoban’s beerhall. Milja could live with her too. Yes, there’d be enough for that. Even after she had a fence change the pearl to ten-weight ivory, there’d be enough money to do that!

The promise of almost forgotten dreams sent fear flaring through Annika as nothing before ever had. So close to having everything she wanted, now she was terrified it could all be taken away. The man she’d robbed, certainly he would be looking for her. He was sure to have noticed by now that the pearl discs were gone. He’d scour the Ostvein looking for her. When he caught her, Annika would be left with nothing! No real home to offer Milja, just that spot in the sawdust under Baoban’s table.

Annika’s fingers curled around the purse in a steely grip. She hurried away from the moonlight, shunning its revealing rays as she rushed through the frigid darkness. She ran and ran, darting down alleys and across streets to confuse the pursuers she was certain were after her. The turns she took were seized upon at random. Up one lane, down another. In her haste she didn’t even notice the gibbet swinging from a lamp post, its occupant bled white by the bats that infested the city. Fright and fog soon had Annika uncertain of where she was. All she knew was that someone was following her.

Perhaps if Annika Haustel had paid more attention to what was ahead of her than what was behind, she wouldn’t have died.

The first Annika was aware of the dark figure that met her in the courtyard was when she felt a burning pain in her abdomen. She gasped and dropped the purse to the ground. Dimly she heard the sound of pearl discs scattering across the cobblestones. She registered faintly the presence of someone standing in front of her. The only thing that was distinct was the sharp pain in her stomach and the blood that rushed over her hand.

‘It’s… mine…’ Annika groaned. She was still thinking of the money and the dreams it would buy.

The gleam of the knife in the stranger’s hand was the last thing she saw.

Her killer had no interest in the money at all. Though Annika Haustel would never know it, she’d just become the first victim of a monster the people of Ulfenkarn would soon call Baron Grin.

Click here to buy Cursed City.

A Black Library Publication

First published in Great Britain in 2021 by Black Library, Games Workshop Ltd, Willow Road, Nottingham, NG7 2WS, UK.

Represented by: Games Workshop Limited – Irish branch, Unit 3, Lower Liffey Street, Dublin 1,D01 K199, Ireland.

Produced by Games Workshop in Nottingham.
Cover illustration by Kevin Chin.

The Wolf and the Rat © Copyright Games Workshop Limited 2021. The Wolf and the Rat, GW, Games Workshop, Black Library, Warhammer, Warhammer Age of Sigmar, Stormcast Eternals, and all associated logos, illustrations, images, names, creatures, races, vehicles, locations, weapons, characters, and the distinctive likenesses thereof, are either ® or TM, and/or © Games Workshop Limited, variably registered around the world.
All Rights Reserved.

A CIP record for this book is available from the British Library.

ISBN: 978-1-80026-722-0

This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.

See Black Library on the internet at
blacklibrary.com

Find out more about Games Workshop’s world of Warhammer and the Warhammer 40,000 universe at
games-workshop.com

eBook license

This license is made between:

Games Workshop Limited t/a Black Library, Willow Road, Lenton, Nottingham, NG7 2WS, United Kingdom (“Black Library”); and

the purchaser of a Black Library e-book product (“You/you/Your/your”)

(jointly, “the parties”)

These are the terms and conditions that apply when you purchase a Black Library e-book (“e-book”). The parties agree that in consideration of the fee paid by you, Black Library grants you a license to use the e-book on the following terms:

* 1. Black Library grants to you a personal, non-exclusive, non-transferable, royalty-free license to use the e-book in the following ways:

o 1.1 to store the e-book on any number of electronic devices and/or storage media (including, by way of example only, personal computers, e-book readers, mobile phones, portable hard drives, USB flash drives, CDs or DVDs) which are personally owned by you;

o 1.2 to access the e-book using an appropriate electronic device and/or through any appropriate storage media.

* 2. For the avoidance of doubt, you are ONLY licensed to use the e-book as described in paragraph 1 above. You may NOT use or store the e-book in any other way. If you do, Black Library shall be entitled to terminate this license.

* 3. Further to the general restriction at paragraph 2, Black Library shall be entitled to terminate this license in the event that you use or store the e-book (or any part of it) in any way not expressly licensed. This includes (but is by no means limited to) the following circumstances:

o 3.1 you provide the e-book to any company, individual or other legal person who does not possess a license to use or store it;

o 3.2 you make the e-book available on bit-torrent sites, or are otherwise complicit in ‘seeding’ or sharing the e-book with any company, individual or other legal person who does not possess a license to use or store it;

o 3.3 you print and distribute hard copies of the e-book to any company, individual or other legal person who does not possess a license to use or store it;

o 3.4 you attempt to reverse engineer, bypass, alter, amend, remove or otherwise make any change to any copy protection technology which may be applied to the e-book.

* 4. By purchasing an e-book, you agree for the purposes of the Consumer Protection (Distance Selling) Regulations 2000 that Black Library may commence the service (of provision of the e-book to you) prior to your ordinary cancellation period coming to an end, and that by purchasing an e-book, your cancellation rights shall end immediately upon receipt of the e-book.

* 5. You acknowledge that all copyright, trademark and other intellectual property rights in the e-book are, shall remain, the sole property of Black Library.

* 6. On termination of this license, howsoever effected, you shall immediately and permanently delete all copies of the e-book from your computers and storage media, and shall destroy all hard copies of the e-book which you have derived from the e-book.

* 7. Black Library shall be entitled to amend these terms and conditions from time to time by written notice to you.

* 8. These terms and conditions shall be governed by English law, and shall be subject only to the jurisdiction of the Courts in England and Wales.

* 9. If any part of this license is illegal, or becomes illegal as a result of any change in the law, then that part shall be deleted, and replaced with wording that is as close to the original meaning as possible without being illegal.

* 10. Any failure by Black Library to exercise its rights under this license for whatever reason shall not be in any way deemed to be a waiver of its rights, and in particular, Black Library reserves the right at all times to terminate this license in the event that you breach clause 2 or clause 3.