Clint Werner: Blood for the Blood God

The Skulltaker, that was the name the thing had been given, the title it wore in the nightmares of sorcerers and seers: a harbinger of Khorne, the Blood God’s chosen executioner. It had left a trail of destruction across Teiyogtei’s realm, empty villages and broken castles. The khagan’s realm was threatened, not by the Skulltaker, but by the terror that he brought with him. If Teiyogtei were to maintain his rule, he could allow his people to fear nothing more than they feared their king.

At the base of the hill, the crimson mist rolled back, retreating as though pulled away by spectral steeds. As the mist retreated, a lone figure stood revealed beneath the baleful sky. Teiyogtei was surprised to see that his adversary was no daemon, no misshapen monster from the pits of the Wastes. The figure that stood below was that of a man, but such a man as even the khagan had never faced before. Tall, bulky, his body was covered in plates of steel, stained the hue of old blood, a tattered cloak of daemon fur spilling down his back, his head unseen behind a skull-faced helm of iron. Great antlers rose from either side of the helm, jagged horns of bronze, each forming one part of the skull-rune of Khorne. Beside the malice Teiyogtei could feel emanating from the lone warrior, even the fury of the Bloodeater seemed a feeble thing.

The king tried to stare into the skull-faced mask, to see the man behind the iron, but only shadow returned his gaze. A twinge of fear worked through the warlord’s body. This, he knew, was the Skulltaker, and for the first time he truly wondered if his foe could be destroyed. Could anything overcome such pure, raw hatred?

The Skulltaker was still for a moment, letting his enemy take his measure. Then, slowly, his head lifted, staring back at Teiyogtei. The warrior’s voice growled from behind his mask, a sound like steel scraping against bone.

“Doom,” the Skulltaker proclaimed. “Doom has come to the betrayers.” The warrior raised his weapon, a thick blade with jagged, cruel edges, as black as a shard of midnight. Teiyogtei could see faces screaming beneath the black skin of the weapon, writhing in torment within the blade that had consumed their souls. The khagan looked down at his own sword, a new doubt working into his mind. There was a kinship between these weapons, but that could not be. Neither man nor daemon could have forged another such blade.

Teiyogtei bit down on his fears. He was Teiyogtei Khagan, the greatest warlord to rise from the Tong, the mightiest people the world would ever know. No foe had ever bested him in battle, no foe ever would. Men could break their promises, but the word of a god was eternal. Whatever he was, whatever had sent him, the Skulltaker would fall before the Bloodeater and become another thorn upon the Blood-Crown.

“Doom?” Teiyogtei sneered. “I fear no doom. You think to bring me death? Know that Teiyogtei Khagan cannot fall in battle! The Blood God’s oath protects me, and he will not revoke his word when it is given! Doom?” The king laughed at his silent foe. “It is your doom that is come, wretch! The terror of the Skulltaker ends here upon my Bloodeater!”

The khagan’s words had scarcely been uttered when his enemy sprang into motion. With a speed that Teiyogtei would have believed impossible, the armoured warrior charged up the side of the hill, the Skulltaker’s boots gouging into the rock like claws of steel. Teiyogtei sprang to meet the warrior’s attack, the Bloodeater flashing out in a fiery arc only to crash against the blackened edge of the Skulltaker’s weapon. The king’s arm shuddered from the impact, his bones trembling. He recoiled instinctively and the Skulltaker was swift to seize upon his weakness. An iron shoulder crashed against Teiyogtei’s chest, throwing him back, only the king’s amazing reflexes preventing him from collapsing to the ground.

The black sword slashed out at the reeling king, and as it swept through the air the wailing voices of those trapped within clawed at Teiyogtei’s mind. More by instinct than thought, he parried the strike, his bones again shuddering as red blade met black. The two swords were frozen, locked against one another as the two fighters struggled to break each other’s hold. At length, Teiyogtei felt his strength begin to ebb, felt the Skulltaker’s incredible power start to prevail. The king brought his boot cracking into the Skulltaker’s knee, trying to spill his foe to the ground. The warrior’s leg barely registered the brutal impact that would have snapped the bone of a lesser man.

Teiyogtei’s tactic did serve its purpose, however. For an instant, the Skulltaker’s attention was distracted, and in that instant, the king freed the Bloodeater, leaping back before the Skulltaker could retaliate. The iron-helmed warrior lashed out at the khagan, the point of his black sword scraping against the lacquer armour. Red smoke rose from the cut, and Teiyogtei’s nose filled with the sickening stink of the vapour. He did not like to think what havoc even a small cut from the weapon might work should it sink into flesh. Again, the unfamiliar spectre of fear screamed through his mind.

As though smelling his foe’s fear, the Skulltaker struck again, driving his black blade at Teiyogtei from the side. The king hurried to block the attack, but the Bloodeater was caught at an awkward angle, trapped between the Skulltaker’s black blade and his own body. He struggled to fend off the warrior’s immense strength, but the angle of his weapon conspired against him, threatening to snap his arm with the effort. Teiyogtei roared in pain as the lacquer plates began to split beneath the Bloodeater, as his own blade began to gouge into his flesh.

Fuelled by the intense agony, Teiyogtei drew upon the last of his strength. Howling like a beast, the khagan ripped the Bloodeater from his own body, beating back the Skulltaker’s sword. Ropes of gore drooled from the gouge in his side, but the king had not the breath to spare to consider his grisly wound. The Skulltaker was already moving to attack the weakened king, slashing at the khagan’s neck. Teiyogtei ducked under the wound, driving the Bloodeater into the Skulltaker’s belly.

He pressed the sword home, deep and hard, only relenting when he felt it erupt from the warrior’s back. Only then did Teiyogtei give thought to the quivering pain that wracked his body.

He backed away from the stricken warrior, leaving the Bloodeater thrust through the monster’s gut. The Skulltaker watched him retreat, his malevolence seeming to flicker as the Bloodeater drained his soul. Blood bubbled from Teiyogtei’s mouth, spilling from the face of his gilded mask.

It became an effort for him to keep the Skulltaker in focus as his vision began to swim with pain. The king growled against such weakness. He would see the monster dead before he allowed himself to fade into the Hunting Halls.

The Skulltaker reached his hand to his belly, gripping the hilt of Teiyogtei’s sword. With savage, twisting tugs, he pulled the sword free, stagnant blood exploding from the wound. The Bloodeater’s fire was extinguished, smothered by the malignity of that which it had tried to devour. The Skulltaker tossed it aside with an almost arrogant contempt. The Bloodeater shattered against the rocky ground, and the Skulltaker’s boots crushed its shards as he advanced once more upon the king.

Teiyogtei stared at the executioner. Even had he been able, he would not flee. Despite his best efforts, his hour had passed. No man could hope to cheat the gods.

Yet, as the Skulltaker came towards him, Teiyogtei noted that the imposing warrior seemed somehow diminished. It was as though he were draining away with the blood that continued to vomit from his gut.

The khagan had the impression of ice dissolving in water. By the time he drew close to the king, the Skulltaker was a shrivelled echo of the warrior who had fought against him. It was only with a shuddering effort that the Skulltaker lifted his black blade, struggling to strike Teiyogtei.