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The wizard drew his ash-stained cloak about him as he walked No, not entirely helpless We’ve our wits More, we can sniff out a feint -- at least I can, anyway And this is a feint -- the whole Pannion Domin and its infectious influence Soates of the Warren of Chaos A conduit, perhaps the Pannion Seer hi used, that he’s no aned to test the will, the efficacy, of his foe We need to take the pan Fast Decisively
He approached the squad’s firelight, heard the lowho the ridge, their burning braids of oil-soaked grass creating ri Closer to where Paran stood, young warriors contested with short hook-bladed knives, the occasional spatter of blood sizzling as it sprayed into the clan’s hearth-ring -- rivalries took precedence over all else, it seeeburner squads, pulling soldiers of both sexes towards the hide tents of the encaht to prohibit such amorous contact, but had then dismissed the notion as both unworkable and unwise Coht all be dead
The clans of the White Face had gathered Tents and yurts of the Senan, Gilk, Ahkrata and Barahn tribes -- as well as ed that a hundred thousand Barghast had heeded Humbrall Taur’s call to counsel But not just counsel They’ve coe He is the last of his own clan, and tattooed on his scarred body is the history of his tribe, a tale five hundred generations long He co andprecisely what else is involved Taciturn bastards There are too many secrets at work here
A Nith’rithal warrior loosed a wet shriek as a rival clan’s warrior opened his throat with a hook-knife Voices bellowed, cursed The stricken warrior writhed on the ground before the hearth-fire, life spilling out in a gli pool that spread out beneath him His slayer strutted circles to wild cheers
Ahast near by, Twist ca the curses
’You’re not too popular,’ Paran observed ’I didn’t know the Moranth hunted this far east’
’We do not,’ Twist replied, his voice thin and flat behind his chitinous helm ’The enmity is ancient, born of memories, not experience The memories are false’
’Are they now I’d suggest youthem of your opinion’
’Indeed, there is no point, Captain I am curious, this warrior, Trotts -- is he uniquely skilled as a fighter?’
Paran grih a lot of nasty scrapes He can hold his own, I suppose To be honest, I have never seen hieburners who have?’
’Disparaging, of course They disparage everything, however, so I don’t think that’s a reliable opinion We will see soon enough’
’Humbrall Taur has selected his champion,’ Twist said ’One of his sons’
The captain squinted through the darkness at the Black Moranth ’Where did you hear this? Do you understand the Barghast language?’
’It is related to our own The news of the selection is upon everyone’s lips Huest son, as yet unnae into adulthood Born with blades in his hands Undefeated in duel, even when facing seasoned warriors Dark-hearted, withouttheh All else is naught but wasted breath’
’I still don’t understand the need for the duel in the first place,’ Paran said ’Trotts doesn’t need to make any claim -- the history is writ plain on his skin Why should there be any doubt as to its veracity? He’s Barghast through and through -- you just have to look at him’
’He makes claim to leadership, Captain His tribe’s history sets his lineage as that of the First Founders His blood is purer than the blood of these clans, and so he e to affirut was clenched in knots A sour taste had come to his mouth and no amount of ale or ould take it away When he slept visions haunted his dreams -- the chill cavern beneath the Finnest House, the carved stone flagstones with their ancient, depthless ions Even now, should he close his eyes and let his will fall away, he would feel hi into the Hold of the Beasts -- the home of the T’lan Imass and its vacant, antlered throne -- with a physical presence, tactile and rich with senses, as if he had bodily travelled to that place And to that ti waiting for a new occupant Did it seem that way for the Emperor? When he found himself before the Throne of Shadoer, dole step away?