FSE

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Skyseeker poked her snout through the wall of leaves, watching the man-thing slink into the greenery and out of her sight, his heavy footfalls letting her know he had given up his search for her. Commending herself for her flawless getaway, she crawled back to the clearing where she’d outwitted the man-thing, turning her eyes down at the mount that had somehow slumbered throughout their whole encounter.

While she hadn’t gotten the information she needed from the man-thing, a true master assassin like her always had a backup plan. Copying the man-thing’s movements, she crouched by the mount’s face, its whole head almost half her size. This thing was a monster, how did the surface-dwellers even manage to tame these things? She doubted even the most accomplished Packmasters would be able to reign one of these things down without being trampled in the process.

Holding a weeping dagger at the ready, she gave the beast a prod with a claw, telling it in a hushed voice that it should wake up or feel her wrath. When that didn’t work, she poked it harder, then harder, until finally the beast stirred, turning its glossy eyes up at her and snorting through its massive nostrils.

She knew it! She had seen straight through the man-thing’s lies! Her fear of the beast weighing heavy on her, she flourished a dagger at the thing, trying to make herself sound as commanding as possible.

“We make deal-pact, horsey,” she began, remembering the man-thing calling it so. “You take me-me to desert-lands, and I give you much Warpstone. Yes-Yes?”

The beast said nothing, the muscles in its long neck relaxing. She snapped her fingers to regain its attention, but its eyes were empty, distant. Nothing ever refused free Warpstone, that must mean the beast had passed away, she was too late.

Skyseeker slumped pathetically onto the grass. What a setback! She’d been looking forward to spending the rest of her journey upon a mount, riding the rest of her way with her feet kicked up, now she had to go back to walking once more. Curse that man-thing, he’d outwitted her, not the other way around, he must have killed off the horsey after chasing her off with that pistol, very clever for a surface-dweller. His schemes were almost on par with her own… almost.

Disappointed in herself, but not undeterred, she picked herself back up, turning her gaze in the direction of the warband. While travelling with Clan Skryre had been a brief respite, the Warlock’s forces would be tied down dealing with the man-things, consuming their flesh for the next few days. She didn’t have that kind of time to waste, the next leg of her journey would have to be done alone.

Though, perhaps that wasn’t entirely true. The way she was heading just so happened to take her in the same direction as the man-thing. Perhaps she could sneak up on him and slit his throat for tricking her, or maybe interrogate him for information about where to find more horses, as he stupidly referred to them.

Still, if she was going to do this, she must be cautious of his weapon. Her arm still hurt from the time he’d shot her in the back during the battle at the river, her improvised bandage soaked through with her fluids.

Retrieving her warp-stars, discarding the one he’d broken, she scurried in the man-thing’s direction, slipping into the underbrush on all fours as she followed his putrid scent.

-xXx-

The sun was rising, as was the humidity, Roderick keeping his visor open so he didn’t cook alive inside his helmet. He was yet to come across any discernible landmarks, the tall trees the only thing he could see for miles in any direction, but at least he didn’t have to worry about running into paused out in the middle of the woods.

Roderick leaned against the foot of a tree, drawing a waterskin from one of his pouches and sating his thirst. Even before crossing the Vaults, he found the days becoming progressively hotter the further south he travelled, even in the latest hours of the night he often found himself waking up soaked with sweat. How he missed the balanced climes of the Empire.

When the sun reached its highest point in the sky, the heat was getting to him, Roderick’s body demanding that he rest. He searched for a place to stop, eventually coming across the base of an impressive tree, its tall roots large enough to hide him from prying eyes. He set his bags down next to the great oak, spreading them over a wide area so he didn’t have to sit on the dirt.

Roderick settled in, his muscles eager to relax as he leaned against the tree, his legs becoming sore, but in a relieving kind of way. He listened to the sounds of the forest for a few minutes, pausing when he felt his stomach rumble.

He flipped open one of his satchels, fishing through its contents. The mercenary band’s food stocks were filled to capacity with non-perishables like jerked meat and bread, so Roderick didn’t have to worry about his rations rotting in all this heat.

As he chewed on a tasteless piece of pork, his attention was drawn to the right. Beyond the trees, he could hear the leaves rustling, Roderick slowly placing a hand on his pistol. It could have been the wind, or an errant animal, but given his experience so far in these lands, he knew to take nothing at face value.

His feet complaining, Roderick crept out of his resting place, drawing his dagger as he peeked over the undergrowth, daring not to even chew his food lest the noise give away his location. He circled the tree, his heartbeat rising as he heard the leaves shake again, spotting the disturbed bush a few paces away, its spiky arms waving back and forth.

Careful where he placed his feet, he held his dagger up, closing in on the intruder. When he was in arms-reach of the bush, he made to strike, faltering as he watched a fox dart out of the shrubbery, its brown fur rippling in the breeze as it disappeared into a cluster of nearby wildlfowers.

“Damn it,” Roderick grumbled, stashing his dagger away. It had been nothing after all, yet he couldn’t quite shake the feeling he wasn’t alone as he returned to the cover of the roots, even when he heard no more noises. He’d been hoping to catch some shut-eye, but the idea of lingering here without some proper shelter wasn’t so appealing anymore.

He spent a few more minutes resting his feet, then continued on, every crack of a branch and shifting leaf making him jumpy.

-xXx-

By the time sunset arrived, the sky turning a deep shade of azure, Roderick was certain he was being followed. Every time he paused to rest, the snapping twigs would subside, only to then pick up again once he resumed walking. He was by no means defenceless, but being stalked through a darkening forest would shake anyone’s nerves. He would have to deal with his pursuer before he became too tired to keep his eyes open.

He wondered who it was, a mercenary from the band? A brigand? More Skaven? He would hear their cackles and chitters long before they arrived if it was the latter, so he was wagering on it being a bandit, but why try and rob someone way out here?

No matter, he wouldn’t let himself be humiliated like the last time he’d been waylaid. Roderick bided his time, pretending to be ignorant of his pursuer as he found someplace to set up camp before it got too dark. He foraged around for some kindling, the abundance of undergrowth making it a trivial matter to assemble a fire. He placed a ring of stones in the middle of another clearing, taking out a piece of flint from his pack and striking it.

Soon he had a healthy fire going, placing his helmet on the ground nearby, holding his hands up to the flickering flames. The sunlight was fading quickly, the canopy roofing the forest so dense he could scarcely see the stars.

He rummaged through his pack, producing a hunk of bread and spearing it on a stick. He roasted it over the fire, hoping the heat would drive back the stale taste, the scent of baking bread reminding him of the homeland.

After eating his fill, he put on a show of yawning loudly, holding an exaggerated arm up to his mouth. Fluffing his pack like he would a pillow, he laid his head down, closing his eyes and pretending to go to sleep.

There he waited. Ten minutes, twenty, an hour. He was starting to think his ruse wasn’t going to work, when he heard a twig snap, the little noise so quiet he barely heard it over his pounding heart.

He clutched his handgun to his chest as he heard whoever it was approach, Roderick sure he could hear his purser sniff as though affected by a fever. They were being careless, that meant his trap was working.

When he heard it draw closer to the clearing, Roderick leapt to his feet, holding his pistol out in one arm as he pointed it in the intruder’s direction. Between two trees, he saw a lone Skaven with one leg raised in the air, frozen like a burglar who’d just been caught sneaking into the wine cellar.

Its already large eyes bogged out as it realised it had been caught, dashing away too quickly for Roderick to track it with his eyes, let alone his gun. It slunk behind a tree, its tail arcing around the wood as he heard it fall to the grass.

Roderick went to fire, then hesitated, turning his gaze to the woods. Was he about to be caught in the middle of a Vermintide? He couldn’t hear the telltale rumbling of earth, nor the cries of an oncoming wave of ratmen, was this creature truly alone?

He waited for the burrows to start appearing, but it seemed no major attack was coming. As he contemplated his next move, the Skaven peeked around the tree at one point, placing a furry hand on the bark as it looked at him, as if it had to check if he was still standing there. It ducked away as soon as he aimed at its face, Roderick furrowing his brow in confusion. This one looked familiar. Was it the same ratwoman who’d killed his horse?

“I see you, rodent,” Roderick announced, hoping he could scare it into backing away from its cover. Instead, the Skaven peered at him from the opposite side of the tree, and at a different elevation, Roderick too slow to train his sights on it before it disappeared again. “You know, for a self-proclaimed master assassin, you’re not very good at hiding.”

Roderick started to circle the tree, making sure he kept at a distance so it couldn’t knife him. When he rounded the tree, he blinked in confusion, the rat wasn’t hiding behind it anymore.

He was sure he’d seen nothing move in his peripherals, where had it gone? He circled the tree completely, thinking it was trying to keep the wood between him and it, but there was no sign of it.

The sound of a mischievous chuckle drew his gaze upward, Roderick spying the rat poking its head out from a hollow in the tree far above him. Seeing he had noticed it, the rodent slunk its head out of sight, Roderick shaking his head as he watched its tail flick out into the open.

“What are you doing here, rat?” he asked, holding his pistol ready. “Why do you follow me?”

It tried to pretend it wasn’t there for a few stubborn moments, then its head appeared again, its expression twisted in a snarl.

“Stupid man-thing!” it called. “Man-thing follows me!”

“You are the one who’s been shadowing me all day,” he replied, shaking his head. “I demand to know why.”

The Skaven pointed an accusing claw at him from its hiding place. “You pay attention-listen,” it growled. “Skaven does not explain mission to hairless, smelly, ugly man-things. Sneaky-secrets is the duty of Clan Mors master-”

“-Assassins, heard that already,” he interrupted. “What’s this mission? You here to kill me? You’re not the first hired blade who’s tried, you know, though I admit I’ve never been stalked by a rat before.”

“Man-thing not my target!” it snarled. “Who’d want to kill-stab chump like you? Assassining contracts only for strongest enemies.”

“… What did you just call me?” he growled, the Skaven replying by cackling down at him. “You claim not to be after me, rodent, but you were sneaking up on my camp just a minute ago, how do you explain that?”

The rodent hesitated, bundling its hood over its head like it was ashamed. “S-Stink of food-smell,” it reluctantly explained. “Not eat-eat since bright time.”

“I should have known filching for scraps would be your reasoning, vermin,” he chuckled, the Skaven shooting him a dirty look. “But I’d be a fool to believe you. More likely you’re here to track me so your warband can do what you couldn’t, and finish me off.”

“I am no Skryre Clanrat!” the Skaven defended. “I am of exuberant Clan Mors. Told dumb man-thing twice now!”

Roderick wasn’t familiar enough with Skaven to know what it was going on about, but this rat was clearly alone, and wasn’t trying to tell him otherwise, so in that regard it was being truthful.

“Well, if you are truly not my adversary as you claim to be, then I’ll give you a chance to prove it,” Roderick announced, the Skaven tilting its head in confusion. “You let me live back in the clearing, so I’ll offer you the same courtesy. Leave now, and let us never cross paths again. But if I see so much as a whisker,” he added, lifting the barrel of his pistol pointedly. “I won’t be so lenient a second time.”

“Why would man-thing let me leave-leave?” it asked, cocking its head the other direction

“I just said why,” he sighed, gesturing with his pistol. “On your way now, begone.”

“No shoot-fire Skyseeker?”

“You’re hardly worth the ammo.”

While he’d brought a pouch full of powder charges from the camp, he had no idea when he’d be able to resupply, and he’d rather save his bullets if it was possible.

The Skaven seemed to consider his offer for a moment. Then there was a flash of green metal, and in the space of a moment, it had brandished a warp-star, holding its arm out threateningly.

“Lies!” it spat. “Man-thing said no trick-tricks before, you lied lied then, lying now-now!”

“I give you my word this time,” he pleaded. “I’m no mercenary, I won’t break it.”

It probably had no idea what he was talking about, but it remained unconvinced, stuffing its face defiantly into the hollow, vanishing from his point of view.

“Very well,” he grumbled in frustration. “If you won’t leave of your own free will, then perhaps…”

He left the tree for a few moments, rushing off to his campfire. When he came back, the Skaven had emerged from its hidey-hole, tracking him with its large eyes. When its gaze flickered to what he was holding in his hand, its eyes seemed to outgrow their sockets, almost dropping its warp-star in surprise.

“How about I just burn you out?” he suggested, dangling the piece of firewood over the roots of the tree, the end of it crackling with flames. “A douse of oil and you’d be up in smoke in seconds, that’d get rid of you.”

“Eeeeek! Don’t do that!” it pleaded. It looked about ready to leap from its hiding place and risk the fall, but then seemed to reconsider, no doubt thinking he would get a clear shot at it if it tried to flee.

He felt a little guilty at the terrified creature’s reaction, so he decided to relent, holding the firewood away. “Alright, alright, calm down, I’m not going to torch you. Starting a forest fire would attract the wrong kind of attention anyway.”

He began to pace around the tree, the Skaven’s head swivelling on its flexible neck to track him. Either he would have to wait the rodent out, or find someplace else to camp. The latter seemed rather pointless, the Skaven would just find him again, not to mention that he didn’t have the energy for another trek, the day of fighting and walking had left him on the brink of passing out.

It seemed he had no choice but to test his patience against the Skaven’s own, looking up at the rodent with his arms crossed. “You’d best make yourself scarce before daylight, rodent,” he began. “I don’t think my sudden good mood is going to last till morning.”

He walked back to the fire, and this time he didn’t return, laying down on his back, holding his pistol close as he kept a vigilant watch on the tree. If the Skaven didn’t take all his warnings and leave before daybreak, he’d be left with no choice but to bring its hiding place to the torch.

He thought he saw a whisker appear around the trunk after a while, but it seemed the Skaven was just as suspicious of him, as he was of it, and the constant shuffling noises let him know the rat wasn’t budging.

At one point, the noises ceased, and Roderick thought the rat had leapt clear and finally left him be, but that was not the case. A new sound reached his ears, one that was breathy and relaxed, slowly growing in volume until even the crackling firepit couldn’t drown it out. Roderick shuffled onto his back, glaring daggers up at the tree.

The Skaven was snoring.

The arrogant little rodent had the gall to fall asleep despite all his threats. At first he was convinced it was trying to fool him into a false sense of security, but the Skaven’s breaths were consistent, slow, and after one hour passed, then two, he was starting to think it truly had fallen asleep in that burrow.

Jealousy overcame him. The Skaven was at his mercy, not the other way around, so why did it get to sleep while he spent twenty-four hours awake? Curse the creature and its simple-mindedness…

With nothing else to occupy himself with, he found himself focusing solely on the Skaven’s breathing, muffled by the distance, but distinctly peaceful. He rubbed his eyes as they started to droop. Damn it, he needed to stay alert. Perhaps if he just rested his eyes, he could let his ears do most of the work…

The Skaven would have an easier time avoiding him if he wasn’t watching, but his need for rest overpowered his common sense, and the urge to doze off became too strong to ignore.

-xXx-

Roderick was roused awake by the call of a bird, his mind momentarily overwhelmed with alarm, but why that was the case completely slipped his grasp he regained his faculties, rubbing his vision clear as he sat up, surveying his surroundings though itchy eyes.

The campfire had petered out at some point in the night, the clearing illuminated by golden rays of sunshine spilling in through the forest canopy in places, Roderick holding up a hand as a ray of light shone directly in his face.

He turned, flipping open a pouch in search of some breakfast, listening to the sounds of chirping birds and creaking branches, but it took him a second to realise there was one other strange noise that didn’t quite fit the atmosphere. He’d almost forgotten about the Skaven, still slumbering away up there in its hiding place, its snoring reaching an unpleasant octave.

Roderick reconsidered having a meal, the rodent had told him the smell of food had drawn it to his camp, and it would likely wake if he produced meat now. This was his chance to give the vermin the slip, if he could put enough distance between him and it, he wouldn’t have to resort to using his bullets.

Collecting his bags and pistol, he crept away from the camp, staying as quiet as a man wearing plate armour could manage. He cringed when at one point his foot landed on a twig, snapping it in twain with a loud crack, but the Skaven must be a heavy sleeper, for it did not wake.

When he felt confident he was far enough away to walk normally, Roderick turned his back on his former campsite, casting his eyes to the heavens. The rolling expanse of the woods made seeing the sun difficult, but not impossible. It was still morning, so as long as he kept it to his left, he could orient himself in a southerly direction. It would be easier once he reached the edge of this damned forest, and then he could find some landmarks to better guide his way.

He set off into the woods, welcoming the newfound solitude.

-xXx-

Roderick wound his way between the trees, the sheer density of the vegetation making his progress a slog. In his homeland, the forests were far less frequent and oppressive, the space between the trees wide enough to let a carriage pass through unhindered, but Tilea was another story. The lush landscape spread over the province uncontested, perhaps all the blood from all the countless warring mercenaries had made the land more fertile. He once read about wood elves using the corpses of their enemies to fertilize the roots of their great trees, perhaps something similar had happened here.

His thoughts briefly wondered back to the band of mercenaries. Even though he’d put some distance between him and their camp, the sounds of warfare should still carry over many leagues, and the lack of them meant that the battle must have concluded, but who had prevailed? It wasn’t that he cared for the Commander’s life, but Roderick had gained the men’s loyalty during his brief time leading the cavalry, and he wondered if he’d done the right thing, leaving them in their hour of need. They were despicable men who fought for gold, not glory, but still men…

Trying to drive these dark thoughts away, he sat down on a fallen log, sating his appetite with a slice of cured meat. He would trade his armour for a piece of fresh venison right now, but the forest seemed to be the home of nothing but squirrels and birds, and the amount of food he’d get for hunting one didn’t seem worth all the effort.

As he gave his legs some much needed rest, he felt the hairs on his neck stand on end, the familiar sensation of being watched making him tense up. He turned back the way he’d come, spying a hint of movement between two outcrops of rock nestled in the undergrowth, Roderick watching the tip of a pink tail disappear below the thicket, ten or so paces away.

“I warned you what would happen if I saw you again,” Roderick sighed, hearing the Skaven yelp as though he’d startled it. For a few moments it didn’t respond, as though expecting him to forget about it if it stayed silent, but eventually he heard it call back a reply.

“M-Man-thing can’t see me-me.”

“Yes I can.”

“No it can’t!” He saw the tips of its ears swivel as it slowly peered over the lip of rock. “Man-thing should stop testing my patience, big mistake to chase assassin tail.”

Roderick cradled his temple with a glove. “Listen, ice-brain, how many times must I tell you: you are following me. What reason would I have to chase a rodent around, anyway?”

“What is ‘rodent’?” the Skaven asked.

“Perhaps we’re both simply heading in the same direction,” he said, ignoring its question. “If that’s the case, why don’t you just overtake me? Surely a master assassin would have no trouble losing me in this forest. I’ll even give you a head start, how’s that sound?”

When the Skaven didn’t reply for a full minute, Roderick started to think it had finally gone. The prospect was shattered as he heard the crunching of leaves to his left, Roderick turning to see parts of the undergrowth shake and move as though something large was navigating through them. The Skaven was giving him a wide birth, gently circling its way round him until it stopped on the opposite side of his resting place.

It poked its head out from the top of a shrub, its pink nose twitching as it took in its surroundings. As it turned on the spot, Roderick got a look at its front, noticing its chest was pronounced, the sizeable bust contained within a sling of dark material. It was definitely female.

When it completed a full spin, she turned to glare at him.

“Which way south-south?” she demanded

So her heading was the same as his, how curious. He pointed an armoured finger behind her. “That way.”

The Skaven looked in the incorrect direction for a moment, then raised a claw at him in return.

“Man-thing take new deal-pact,” she began. “Man-thing bring me to south-way, and I don’t eat-eat it. Lucrative for both of us, no-yes?”

“Seems to me we were doing that already,” Roderick noted. “What business does a rat have in southern Tilea anyway?”

“No details!” she barked, hitting Roderick’s helmet with a tossed stick. “Mission is secret!”

“What makes you think I’d even consider making a deal with you?” Roderick asked. To say he was baffled by this turn of events would be an understatement. “You knifed my horse and tried to kill me yesterday.”

“Man-thing started it!” she replied, reaching down to pull part of her hood aside, exposing a bloodied bandage on her shoulder. It was difficult to identify the wound, but the Skaven was quick to explain. “Man-thing shot me with gun-thing, kill-killed many clanrats, but not Skyseeker.”

It declared that last part with a gleeful chuckle, Roderick raising a brow in response. He could hardly be expected to remember every rat he’d killed or wounded, but this Skaven seemed the type to hold a grudge. She pulled her cloak back over her shoulder, glaring at him as she waited for his response. The thought he should just risk the bullet and kill the rodent crossed his mind, but if he failed to hit it, he might not wake up the next time he went to sleep with a vengeful assassin on his heels.

“I’m not going to baby you across the whole country,” he finally said. “I have business of my own here. How far south are you going?”

“… Yes,” she replied after hesitating.

“What do you mean, ‘yes’? How many leagues?” When she just stared blankly at him he threw his hands up in exasperation. “Never mind. Do what you will, rodent, just stay out of my way, and we wont have a problem.”

He got to his feet, the Skaven ducking out of sight when he grabbed his pistol, Roderick just able to make out the pitter-patter of her feet as she fled. She had made a show of offering him a deal rather than attack him outright, so he was a little less worried about her being a threat.

He stooped to pick up his saddlebags, feeling the eyes of the Skaven watching him as he readied to press on. “Come along, then,” he called out. “Seeker of Mors or whatever your name was.”

-xXx-

Skyseeker had to abandon her perches up in the trees to keep pace with the man-thing, always keeping him just within her sight, always staying at his rear so she had enough time to react if he dared to attack her.

He had not reached for his handgun since she’d offered him the deal a short while ago, but that didn’t mean she was about to let her guard down. He was a tricky creature, and equally strange, Skyseeker finding herself letting her curiosity get the better of her as she evaluated her newest rival.

He was a tall thing, enough so that Skyseeker’s eyes barely met his chest when they’d fought in the clearing. He still wore that steel suit from back at the ambush at the river, with the red brush protruding from a full-faced helmet. She wasn’t sure if he was truly that bulky underneath all the armour, but she imagined it took a lot of strength to lug all that metal around.

Her eyes wondered down his torso. No matter how hard she looked, it appeared the man-thing possessed no tail of any kind. How could that be? How did it stop itself from falling over? The body plans of these surface-dwellers were so odd. Perhaps it was stuffed inside the armour?

After an hour or so of following the man-thing, the cover of the forest began to dwindle. Skyseeker found it increasingly difficult to stay out of sight as the shrubs and undergrowth gave way to flat stretches of grass, the trees becoming so thin she could wrap her arms around them twice over. The canopy was likewise affected, the clouds of leaves parting to expose blinding rays of sunshine, the primal fear of an overhead attack making Skyseeker squirm beneath her hood.

The man-thing didn’t seem all that bothered, striding confidently onward toward the edge of the forest, the border of the woodlands ending in a visible line just ahead of him. He paused in the shade of a tree, nearly motionless as he surveyed the world beyond, Skyseeker dragging herself ten or so paces to his flank, perching atop a low-hanging branch so she could see what he was looking at.

A rolling plain of grass and dirt stretched out beyond and below her, boxed in by the mountains lining the horizon to her left, but extending on forever in all other directions. While most of the land was flat, it wasn’t without its features. Gentle bumps in the earth swept the countryside, as though a hundred gigantic Skaven were in the middle of burrowing up from the underways, the fields of green seemingly untouched by structures of any kind.

While she could see small clusters of woodland growing between the hills, the sheer amount of open ground looming before her filled her heart with dread. To cross this land would be to let herself be exposed from every angle, which went against every instinct in Skyseeker’s body, the sight making her paws sweat.

Ruffling parchment drew her out of her wallowing, and she looked to the man-thing, seeing he was unfurling a scroll from his pack. What was it reading? Instructions on how to kill her, perhaps? She couldn’t get a good look at the scroll from this angle, and when she tried to edge closer, he noticed her approach, quickly stashing the mysterious parchment away.

“Giving up already, eh?” he asked her. “So much for deals. Not that I’m complaining.”

It took her a second to realise what he’d meant. The man-thing was already halfway down the slope, delving into the plains, while she was still perched in the treeline. She tried to jump down after him, but the moment she looked out over the horribly open ground, her paws froze, her body refusing her commands to press on.

Doubt broiled up inside her. How could she hope to survive so much open ground? Her mind conjured images of flying monstrosities, lurking in the distant haze, ready to pluck her the moment she left the shelter of the trees. Gnawdwell had chosen Skyseeker for her cunning and sneakiness, but stealth and subterfuge wouldn’t be of use in all this bright, empty land. He should have sent an army in her stead, or at the very least a handful of trained stormvermin, what could she alone do what the elite of Clan Mors could not?

She turned back to the forest, her shoulders heavy with guilt. Returning to Skavenblight without the relic would doom her to a fate she’d feared all her life, but and perhaps if she was sneaky enough, she’d be able to live out the rest of her days in the heart of her Clan, underground and safe.

She closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath as she pulled herself together. If one of the other Great Clans took possession of the relic, then she may not have a Clan to go back to. Clan Mors was on the cusp of success, and victory rested in her paws. Her Lord would not have sent her if there was anyone else, was she truly ready to give up his trust in her so easily?

She had come this far, she told herself as she turned back towards the plains, forcing herself down into the dreaded expanse one step at a time. She would not let fear dictate the success of her mission.

-xXx-

She stalked the man-thing until the sun reached its zenith, the plains baking so hard beneath the light she could see the heat rising off the ground, the way the air shimmered as strange as it was intriguing. The grasslands felt like smouldering coals beneath her feet, and the hilts of her knives were hot to the touch, but she pressed on, turning her eyes every now and then towards the man-thing in the distance.

It was hard to tell with his back turned, but it didn’t look like he was fairing much better, the way he would stumble every now and then hinting at his own fatigue. It seemed even a surface-dweller like him wasn’t immune to the elements.

They were moving up the first layer of hills populating the plain, the man-thing stealing a glance back at her as he deviated to the right, Skyseeker seeing a feature through bleary eyes. Rising up from the grasslands was an outcropping of rock, bleached pale-white from the unfiltered sun, the way it sloped out and upwards reminding her of the shape of her weeping daggers. Flowers blooming in healthy shades of red and yellow were nestled in its long shadow, and it was here the man-thing was walking towards, his relief palpable as he collapsed within the rock’s shelter.

Skyseeker scrutinised him from further down the slope, laying on her belly as she watched him produce some kind of flask, sealing his lips across the neck. How pleasant it must feel to be shaded in this hellscape, both from the sun and the creatures that roamed the skies, not that she’d seen any such creatures. She knew they were out there, though, and her intuition hadn’t failed her yet.

Her mouth salivated as she watched clear water drip from the man-thing’s flask, his red face beginning to cool as he splashed it over his cheeks. She craved the coolness of the shade, but getting close to him was the last thing she wanted to do. She tried digging out a burrow right where she lay, just as she had in the marshes, but the ground was too tough and she was too exhausted, clawing at the dirt did little but blunt her claws. She looked for something else she could use as shelter, but the man-thing’s outcrop was the only feature in any direction.

Seeing she had no choice, she crept towards the outcrop, ready to dash away should the man-thing turn his pistol on her. He wouldn’t notice her approach anyway, a dumb surface-dweller like him couldn’t hope to detect a master assassin like herself.

The moment she came into contact with the shade, she threw her head back, forgetting the meaning of subterfuge as she let out the loudest sigh. It was like dipping her body into a pool of icy water, Skyseeker collapsing into a heap, her tail the last thing to leave the sunlight as she curled into a tired ball. She’d positioned herself as far away from the man-thing as possible, but the pool of shade was rather confined, and they were close enough that she could make out the individual strands of fur on the man-thing’s head.

“You’re stubborn, I’ll give you that,” the man-thing said. He was holding his pistol close, but the barrel was pointing between his feet. “thought I was going to have to cross these hills by myself for a moment there.”

“Silence,” she snapped, trying to summon up the strength to sound intimidating. “Not used to heat. Is cold where I come from.”

“You’ll have plenty of time to get acquainted then,” he replied. “The Trantine Hills stretch on for hundreds and hundreds of leagues, this hill is just the first.”

She had no idea what a league was, but given the context it was probably a long distance. That wouldn’t deter Skyseeker, though, the man-thing was very likely lying in order to dissuade her. “Stupid man-thing won’t trick Skyseeker,” she replied. “Scurried all the way from Skavenblight, Tangerine Hills don’t scare me-me.”

“Trantine,” he said, his tone implying he was trying to correct her. Her nose twitched as she picked up on a curious scent, watching as the man-thing produced a slice of meat from his many bags, tearing off a chunk with his blunt teeth. His noisy chewing made her jealous, and she snapped her fingers to get his attention.

“Man-thing! Share food now-now.”

“I’m not giving you anything,” he replied over a mouthful. “Go find your own carrion, rodent.”

She moved a hand over the hilt of a weeping dagger. “Man-thing share, or will die-kill very quick!”

“You’re not going to kill me,” he replied, his confidence surprising her. “You’d have made good on that promise long ago, but you haven’t, because you need me. First to steal my horse, and now to lead you south. So save your breath, rodent, you look like you need it, the way you’re panting like a rabid dog.”

Horned Rat damn this stupid surface-dweller, he was more clever than he looked. Sulking, she planted her chin in the dirt in defeat, closing her eyes as she tried to ignore the smelly meat. Perhaps after a quick nap, she could try foraging around, maybe find some more black corn if she was fortunate.

Trying to rest while the man-thing was so close was an effort, especially when she felt his lingering gaze, but she managed to achieve a sort of half-slumber, growling under her breath when the man-thing interrupted her.

“How about this,” he began, Skyseeker opening one eye. “I’ll give you a piece of food, but you must answer a question first. What do you say?”

She bounced to her feet in one quick motion, nodding her head vigorously. “Deal-Deal!” she said, holding out her paws. “Gimme!”

“Question first,” he chided, holding a slice of meat out of her reach, Skyseeker rolling her eyes as she leaned back on her haunches, gesturing for him to proceed. “What exactly is your mission you mentioned before? Why do you want to go to southern Tilea?”

“Stupid man-thing ask two questions!” she snarled, holding up three fingers.

“You’ll get two bits of food if you answer them both,” he replied. “On with it, rodent, before I change my mind.”

She chewed on a nail as she considered his offer. Should she reveal such crucial information to this creature? Secrecy was her one ally on this quest, but without food she would never succeed. Eventually she decided that a half-truth would be the best approach.

“Great Horned One spoke to Council,” she explained. “Say Tilee-place must die-die. Indomitable Lord Gnawdwell send me-me ahead of vermintides to look for man-thing armies.”

“They sent an assassin to scout? If that’s the case, then why were you with that warband we ambushed?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at her.

“Man-thing needs to clean ear-holes!” she snarled. “I am Clan MORS assassin, warband belong to Clan SKRYRE. Clans don’t get along! Needed to sneaky-sneak to scurry through unseen.”

For a moment she thought he was onto her, but he eventually pulled a few strips of meat from his pack, tossing them at her. “Alright, two treats, as promised.”

She snatched the food out of the air, giving one an experimental lick. It was saltier than anything she’d ever tasted, but she found the sensation enjoyable, Skyseeker shoving the odd meat down her throat, too tired to bother chewing.

As she raised the second piece to her mouth, she paused, sparing a glance at the man-thing. “What-What man-thing’s mission?” she began, the creature blinking down at her.

“Mission? Not on a mission,” he replied, but she wasn’t buying it.

“If man-thing tells truth, it can have-take treat back.”

“As generous as your offer is,” he said, giving his bag a pat. “I’ve come prepared into these lands, unlike you. Cant buy me with food.”

“Is man-thing scout too?” she pressed, crossing her legs as she sat down. “Your tail fled when Skryre attacked, then scurried wrong way-way. Why man-thing scout own Tilee-lands?”

“I wasn’t part of that mercenary band,” he explained. “not anymore. We had a… falling out, and I make my own path now.”

“Man-thing betray mercy-band?”

“Would you stop calling me that?” he said, dodging the question. “My name is Roderick.”

“Oh! Nice to meet you, Rick-rod.”

“… Really?”

“No you dumb man-thing why would this be nice?” she snapped, jabbing a finger at him. “What sneaky secrets does man-thing hide? It is too clever to be a simple scout, just like Skyseeker!”

“Ah, so you’re not a scout then?”

Realising she just ousted herself, she held her mouth shut with her paws, but it was too late. “Man-thing not say I couldn’t lie,” she excused, ducking lower to the ground. “Food still mine-mine! Earned it fair-square!”

“I’d be surprised if you did tell the truth, Skaven,” the man-thing replied. “No matter, we’ve all got our secrets, just don’t expect another handout anytime soon.”

She flinched away as he stood up, Skyseeker retreating into the sun and behind the outcrop, peering round the corner once she’d safely drawn her weeping blades. The man thing gave her a quizzical look, then hoisted his pack onto his shoulder.

“You’re so skittish,” he muttered, turning his back on her. “Come on then, Skyseeker, the south awaits.”

-xXx-

They marched on until the sun began to retreat below the horizon, Skyseeker always maintaining a healthy distance behind the man-thing, as it gave her enough breathing room to ponder the heavens without worry of an attack. Ever so slowly, those little points of light began to appear in the sky, hundreds upon hundreds, their prettiness never ceasing to amaze her. Why did they only appear at night, and what made them flitter like they did? She needed to know more.

As the sun began to lower, so too did the air temperature, her fur cool to the touch. She preferred this feeling compared to the boiling heat of the day, but the reprieve was short-lived. With the rising moon came the chill of the night, the wind taking on a freezing quality as it brushed over the empty landscape, her cloak doing little to shield her from the biting gale. Her fur would keep her from freezing, but before long she was shivering with every step, and she longed for the shelter of a burrow.

Fortunately, the man-thing was also ready to stop for the night, combing the lands in search of a place to rest. After a bit of looking, he found a suitable shelter of overhanging rock, nestled between two of the great hills dotting the plains. The formation of rock formed a very shallow dugout, but at least the slanting rock provided some measure of a roof that should shield them from the wind.

Skyseeker wasn’t as pensive about using the man-thing’s shelter like last time, as she was certain any flying monsters that lived in this world would be more active at night, where they could swoop down on unsuspecting prey under the cover of darkness. Her quarry did give her an odd look as she came slinking up to the rockface, but he didn’t try to chase her off at least.

“You stay on that side of camp,” he warned, drawing a line over the ground with a pointed finger. “I want you right where I can see you. Make it so.”

She watched curiously as the man-thing began to gather up a couple dozen small rocks, placing them in a circle. When he was done with that, he lifted the dagger from his belt, Skyseeker answering by raising her own weapons in preparation for a fight, the glowing blades driving back the darkness. He gave her an odd look, as though she was being stupid, then bent over, slicing off a tuft of nearby wildgrass and placing it between the rocks.

“What man-thing doing?” she eventually asked, sliding her weapons away when the man-thing did the same.

“Making fire,” he explained. “What’s it look like?”

“Red, very hot-hot.”

“Not literally what’s it look like, you fool.”

He moved off into the night, stealing glances back at her as he began collecting dead twigs. When he’d gathered a small bundle of them, he returned, dropping them on top of the ring of stones.

“Why make fire?” she asked, jumping back a little when he produced two pieces of stone.

“Not everyone’s a rodent covered in fur, gotta keep warm somehow.” He began striking the stones together, and after a couple of attempts, there was a spark, the twigs slowly beginning to smoke.

“Man-thing has fur!” she said, jabbing a claw at the top of his head, where it was crowned in dusky strands of fur, each one long enough to reach his shoulders.

“That’s hair,” he explained. “I swear, I’ve met street urchins smarter than you.”

“If Skyseeker is stupid,” she began. “then man-thing is stupid-er! Lost fight to me-me, only let you live because you beg-begged!”

“Perhaps,” he said. “but then who ended up running away with their tail literally between their legs?”

“Man-thing cheated! Said no tricks, then tricked!”

“Thought a Skaven of all people would appreciate a bit of deception,” he smirked, spreading his pack out and sitting down on it. “But if you’re so bitter about it, we can finish what we started, just say the word.”

“Tempting,” she grumbled, her tail slapping at the ground behind her. “Ask later, after nap-nap.”

She turned away, stuffing herself into the wedge of rock at the base of their sloping shelter, resting her head on her forearm. She closed her eyes, but sleep never came easy on an empty stomach, and Skyseeker had eaten nothing all day save for the strip of meat the man-thing had given her earlier. As if on cue, the smells of food leaking from his pack made themselves known to her nostrils, her mouth watering as she remembered the odd taste of salt and meat. If she wanted to survive this journey across these plains, she had no choice but to indulge the man-thing and his schemes…

“Ask question, do offer-deal again,” she mumbled, the man-thing turning his gaze from the fire to her.

“What are you on about, rodent?”

“Ask question, and give food-meat,” she elaborated. Was the man-thing mentally impaired? He seemed to forget everything in no small amount of time.

“What’s the point?” he asked, raising his hands towards the flames. “Said so yourself that you lied last time.”

“Won’t speak-talk lies,” she added, grinding her teeth together. “Give question now! Stomach sucking up against my spine over here-here!”

“Oh, very well,” the man-thing replied, his reluctance as palpable as the smell of food. “Here’s something that’s been bothering me. When we fought, you spared my life after disarming me, when any other Skaven would have cut me down without a second thought. Why is that?”

“Need four-leg-thing for journey-mission,” she explained. “Need man-thing to teach Skyseeker how to tame, can’t teach if dead-slain. How many-many times must I say-say?”

“I gathered that much,” he continued, holding a hand out. “But I don’t understand why. What’s with you and making deals and pacts?”

“Better get lots-many treats for all these stupid questions,” Skyseeker mumbled under her breath, glancing up at the man-thing. “Ran trade-store in Skavenblight long time ago. Made many deals. Self-taught!”

“Truly?” he asked, blinking as though he’d never heard of the concept. “What would rats sell to each other? Besides scraps of carrion for trash, that is.”

“Many things!” Skyseeker explained, propping herself up on her elbows, glad to be talking about something exciting for a change. “Weapons and wargear, surface-dweller shiny-things, other accessories. Plunder from rubbish piles make us many profits!”

“What currency do you Skaven use?” he asked, turning so that he was properly facing her. “Gold?”

“Stupid man-thing, gold worthless scrap! Warpstone greatest value!” she proudly announced. “Can spend, melt, shoot, and eat precious Warpstone! Man-thing not know food until it eat-taste Warpstone! Mm-Mm!” She licked her teeth as she reminisced about its taste. It had been so long since she’d consumed refined warp-power, perhaps that was what she needed to complete this mission.

“You eat your money?” the man-thing asked. “That… can’t be healthy, not for you or your economy.”

“Warpstone very nutritious!” she said, wagging a claw at the ignorant man-thing. “Pivotal for diet.”

“So you ran this store, did you?” he asked, steering the conversation back on topic. “All by yourself?”

“Three others!” she explained, holding up four fingers. “Two plundered trash pits for trinkets, one protect-guard shop. I took charge of deal-making. Failed only nine times before first bargaining!” she added, puffing her chest out.

“You seem rather fond of this shop,” he noted, no doubt seeing the wide smile splitting her muzzle.

“Made first enemies trading Warpstone,” she said, staring wistfully into the distance. “Much better than skulking warrens. Got to scheme and stab all day! Good times…”

“This mission must be pretty important, then,” he added, Skyseeker turning her head to glare at him. “You gave up the life of a clerk to become a scout? Sounds like quite the leap, if it’s true that is.”

“Shop not there anymore,” she explained. “Guard rat wanted all Warpstone for himself. Tried to kill-slay us one day, so I set shop on fire and lock him in! Not many bargains after that,” she added, her head drooping.

“I’d imagine not,” the man-thing replied. “Here,” he added, a chunk of meat landing in front of her. “Not sure if you’re telling the truth, but you at least answered my question.”

“Man-thing ask a thousand questions!” Skyseeker pouted. “Should give a thousand treats, not ONE!”

“Fine, you can have two,” he replied, reaching for his pack.

“Three, and no tiny-small pieces!”

“Perhaps you weren’t lying about being a shopkeep,” he chuckled. He tossed her another two slices of meat, Skyseeker gobbling them up before he changed his mind. The man-thing seemed susceptible to persistence, that was good to know. She’d need to find all his weaknesses when he decided to break their truce.

“What about man-thing?” Skyseeker asked between mouthfuls. “Did it always ride four-leg-things into Skaven? Did it have shop, too?”

He considered her question for a few moments, prodding the flames with a stick as she watched him impatiently. “I was a farmhand for most of my younger years,” he explained. “Worked these lands until I was of age, then signed on with one of the mercenary bands.”

“Man-thing lies,” Skyseeker accused. “Can’t fool Skyseeker! It is not local-thing!”

“That so? How’d you figure that?”

“Look at it!” she answered, daring to skitter a little closer to him. She began listing off her reasons, pointing at various parts of his body as she did. “Man-thing skin is pink, Tilee-place man-things skin darker. Man-thing hair is dark colour, not like Tilee-man-things. Speech-talk sound different too! You as different as an Eshin rat is from a Moulder!”

He probably didn’t know what an Eshin or Moulder was, but her words drove home the point of his alienness to the man-things she’d seen so far.

“Alright, alright, I’ll admit I’m not a Tilean,” he relented, Skyseeker clenching her fists in victory. “I’m from Reikland, a place far to the north of here, beyond the mountains.” He pointed back towards the edge of the plains, where the distant mountaintops lined the horizon.

“Man-thing make journey of its own?” she wondered. “Must come here for special reason. What else is man-thing hiding?” She knew better than anyone that the length of a journey reflected the importance of a task, and if the man-thing had come from over the mountains…

“Tell you what,” he began, interrupting her train of thought. “I’ll give you my reasons, if you give me yours. How’s that for a bargain?”

“Bad bargain!” she replied, shaking her head and making her hood flutter. “My Lord put great trust in me-me, no betrayal!”

“Then, we are just two simple foreigners in these lands,” he said, spreading his hands out wide. “Let’s agree to leave it at that, shall we?”

Skyseeker crossed her arms, moving her head in a way that wasn’t quite a nod, but not quite a shake either. He was picking and prodding her for information, while avoiding giving up any details about himself. Just as she was, the sneaky creature. She’d have to be careful she didn’t start lagging behind in this little game they were playing.

“I’m turning in for the night,” he announced, settling in on his side, his metal armour reflecting the firelight. “I trust there won’t be any sneaking around this time? You’ve been fed, and we’ve still got a deal, correct?”

“Yes-Yes…” she muttered, her eyes flicking to his pistol as he placed it beside him.

“Good, cause if you place a finger on me or my stuff…”

He left the rest of the threat implied, narrowing his eyes at her before closing them altogether. After returning his stare, Skyseeker shuffled back to her nook, wishing it was further away from him, squeezing herself into the craggy rock until she was comfortable. Resting with a man-thing so close was unnerving, but if she had to pick sleeping near an alien, or sleeping near a burrow full of depraved Skryre clanrats, she’d chose the former every time.