No Honour by Awais Khan EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available For Free Download
- Author: Awais Khan
- Language: English
- Genre: Romance Literary Fiction
- Format: PDF / EPub
- Size: 2 MB
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NO HONOUR AMONG VERMIN
C L Werner
The pungent smell of incense was predominant, but there were underlying
scents as well. Human scents. Odours of subjugation, anxiety and adoration.
The stink of fear.
Fylch Tattertail’s whiskers twitched as his nose instinctively tried to draw
more information from the air. He knew it was a futile effort. The walls of
the tunnel were much too thick and the alcove much too high to discern
much by scent. It was by visual inspection that the truth would be revealed.
The brown-furred skaven pawed about in the pouches woven into the
inside of his thread-bare tunic. Fylch pulled out a motley assortment of
oddments. The skull of a weasel, the shiny carapace of a dried beetle, a
rusty bolt of dubious importance, a gold coin badly scratched where it had
been bitten, five buttons, a salted grot ear that looked a bit mouldy. Fylch let
the litter of junk spill onto the tunnel floor.
He didn’t need any of it. What
he wanted was… He stopped fumbling about his tunic when he removed
the blackened bit of warpblend. Steel infused with trace amounts of
warpstone, the three-inch rod was etched with Queekish symbols invoking
the Horned One’s protection. Fylch wasn’t so sure he accepted the
merchant’s pitch about such divine defence, but he did know that the taste
of warpblend on his tongue was a powerful stimulant, giving him a clarity
and focus that was otherwise elusive.
Fylch scrambled up the last few steps to the top of the alcove. Slaves had
spent several painstaking weeks excavating the secret stair and the little
spy-perch at its top, working in absolute silence until their task was done.
Fylch regretted it had been necessary to work them so hard – by the time
the slaves were finished there hadn’t been much meat left on their bones.
And Skowl Scorchpaw had been counting on the slaves to supplement the
meagre rations the expedition had brought along.
Fylch shook his head and bit down harder on the warpblend. He was
letting himself get distracted. He had to focus on the job ahead.
At the top of the alcove, Fylch found the brass-rimmed eyepiece jutting
from the wall. Just a twinge of fear coursed through him as he pressed his
face to the lens. He knew what he should expect to see; his biggest concern
was that he’d be too late. If things had gone too far and the skaven had to
wait for the next moon… Well, there weren’t any more slaves left to eat.
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