C. Werner - Blighted Empire

It was only a few minutes before Albrecht returned, his face as pale as snow. Before he even acknowledged his prince, the trapper went to his horse and removed a clay bottle from the saddle bag. Taking a deep draw from the bottle to fortify himself, he related what he had seen. ‘There’s a small clearing ahead,’ Albrecht said. ‘Around a dozen beastmen. They’re cooking a couple of travellers.’

‘The Kineater?’ Mandred asked. Beastmen were primitive brutes, creatures that normally preferred their meat raw. It was the Kineater who was accustomed to cooking its fare.

Albrecht answered with a nod. ‘We’re downwind. I don’t think they’re aware we’re here.’

‘We can slip back to the trail then,’ Beck decided, an uneasy look on his face.

‘They’d be gone before we could come back with more men,’ Mandred cursed. Ending the depredations of the Kin-eater wouldn’t make the Drakwald safe, but it would avenge many a slaughtered traveller.

Albrecht took another draw from his bottle. He hesitated before speaking, knowing how the prince would react to the rest of his report. ‘They have two more travellers,’ he said. ‘Live captives.’

Mandred cast his gaze across the face of each of his followers. They knew what Albrecht’s words meant. Prisoners taken by the Kineater wouldn’t stay alive very long. If they went back for help, they would only find gnawed bones upon their return. Without a word, Mandred lowered himself from his saddle. The horses would be awkward to manoeuvre through the trees, even if the sound of hooves didn’t betray them to the beastmen.

‘Dismount,’ Beck called out, putting actions to words. Grimly, the rangers followed suit. They were brave, valiant men. They didn’t demur. Though the odds against them were high, they knew that if they didn’t try then none of them would be able to call himself a man ever again.

‘Stay downwind,’ Albrecht hissed, removing his bow from his saddle. ‘We’ve one chance to surprise them.’

‘Strike fast and strike hard,’ Mandred echoed the trapper. He frowned at the whalebone bow his aunt had given him. He’d been so impressed with the finery of the weapon he’d never stopped to consider its practicality. He hoped it wouldn’t fail him.

Emulating the ghostly silence of Albrecht, the men crept through the trees. It wasn’t long before the crackle of flames and the rough grunts of inhuman voices reached their ears. Soon, they were within sight of the clearing.

Mandred quickly looked away from the horrible vision of the campfire and what smouldered among the embers. He gazed instead at the monstrous creatures ranged about the clearing. They were a motley confusion of fur and horns, hooves and claws. Some of the brutes stood a full head taller than a man while others were short, hunched things. A few of the beastmen affected the rudiments of armour, strips of chain and plate plundered from those they had killed. Others had branded their fur with primitive glyphs and crude symbols, brazenly sporting the marks of their savage gods.

The prince gave a start when he spied a scrawny, slinking shape among the herd. While the other beastmen favoured goats and bulls and beasts of the field, this one had a verminous cast to it. He was reminded of the disgusting mutant he had fought on the walls of Middenheim so many years ago. The horror he looked upon now was very much made in the same loathsome image.

Memories of ratmen faded as Mandred’s gaze fell upon the prisoners Albrecht had seen. There were two of them, a slightly flabby middle-aged man and a rather comely woman. Both had been stripped and bound to the trunk of a tree at the edge of the clearing. As he watched, a gigantic beastman stalked towards the captives, a butcher’s cleaver clenched in an almost human fist.

Mandred knew this must be the Kineater. While a few of its herd affected strips of armour or simple loincloths, this brute draped itself in a primitive parody of a nobleman’s cloak, stitched together from a horse’s tabard and with a collar of human scalps. The thing’s hooves were polished to a bright sheen and the massive horns that spread from its forehead were decorated with a litter of silver chains, jewelled necklaces and other gaudy plunder. Below the horns, the monster’s face was horribly human, a maddeningly handsome visage, the countenance of some ancient forest god.

The Kineater’s lips pulled back in a grisly smile as it reached towards the woman. Mandred saw her flinch as the cold metal of the cleaver touched her bare back. The monster’s fingers pawed at her long hair. She struggled to avoid the brute’s touch, provoking a bray of laughter that had nothing human in it.

The whistle of a thrush reached Mandred’s ears, the sign Albrecht had positioned the last of the men around the clearing. The prince didn’t linger. In one smooth motion, he raised his bow and loosed a shaft into the Kineater.

The beast chief cried out in pain as Mandred’s arrow caught it in the small of the back. It reared back, throwing aside its cloak and exposing a left arm that was swollen into the clawed limb of a sea creature. The Kineater barked and howled, its fury throwing the rest of its herd into a frenzy.

More shafts came flying from the trees. The rangers struck true with their aim, every arrow hitting its mark. Several of the monsters collapsed, twitching in the dirt. Others whined in pain, struggling to pluck the shafts from their hairy hides. Albrecht had positioned the men well, catching their foe in a murderous crossfire. A second volley sent the beasts into a panic.

The luxury of picking off the monsters with archery, however, was one that the captives couldn’t afford. With three arrows sticking from its body, the Kineater turned once more towards the woman, its man-like face twisted into a mask of vindictive hate.

Before the beastlord could raise its cleaver, Mandred burst from the trees. Shouting at the top of his voice, he loosed one last arrow into the monster and drew his sword. The Kineater swung around, eyes glaring at the man who had dared attack it. The last arrow had hurt it, to be certain, but not enough harm to slow it down. Stamping its hooves, the beast charged straight at Mandred.

‘Aid the prince!’ Beck called out. From the trees, men were leaping into the clearing with drawn swords. Several of the beastmen that might otherwise have rallied to their chieftain turned about and leapt upon these new foes.

The Kineater wasn’t distracted. Straight as one of Albrecht’s arrows, the beastman came for Mandred, horns lowered and cleaver upraised. The prince awaited the brute’s charge, diving away as those jagged horns came at him. Lashing out with his blade, he caught the Kineater just inside the pit of its arm. Steel slashed tendon and muscle in a welter of gore. The beastman screamed in pain as its arm fell limp at its side, and the cleaver tumbled from nerveless fingers.

Mandred followed up the crippling blow with a vicious slash across the Kineater’s back, slicing a great flap of hide from its flesh. Before he could attack again, the brute’s claw came whipping around. The enormous pincer closed tight around him, only the mail beneath his coat preventing him from being cut in half by the jagged mass of chitin. His sword arm, however, was pinned to his side, locked within the pincer’s embrace. He could feel the bones grind together as the Kineater increased the pressure and dragged him to the ground.

Mandred glared up at the monster’s handsome face as it leered down at him. His fist slammed into the Kineater’s nose, splashing its visage in its own blood. The brute reared back, wailing in pain, but didn’t release the pressure of its claw. Savagely, it drove its hoof down upon Mandred’s free arm, pinning it to the earth. Bloodied lips pulled back in a malicious smile.