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Blood And Rocks Chapta 7 | |
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Chapta 7 |
A crater had been formed by the daemon’s emergence. Whether the creature had been under there for some time or if it was some side effect of its transition into the material universe, Hazug could not tell. Using his blade he began to scrape and poke in the hole. “Master.” Ratish said suddenly and Hazug looked at his servant. “Wot?” he asked. “Look dare master.” Ratish replied and he pointed to the very bottom of the hole. There, amongst the discarded items of ork society lay a piece of blackened stone sticking up. Hazug frowned, realising that this did not look as if it belonged there. Lumps of rock were not the sort of thing that gretchin would collect and bring here. They might add rocks to anything they were selling by weight and hope that they could stay ahead of whoever they tricked into purchasing it, but they would not waste time storing rocks for such a purpose. Reaching down into the hole Hazug grabbed hold of the exposed part of the stone and pulled it loose. He then shook loose the bulk of the debris that as stuck to it and began to pick at the pieces that remained stuck to it, most of which appeared melted. As for the stone itself it was rectangular in shape, obviously not a naturally occurring object. In fact the angels looked far too precise to have be made by orks either, more like something that humans would manufacture. Humans like Cutter and Hal. The problem with this stone was that it had clearly been exposed to tremendous heat that had cracked the surface in places and while Hazug could see that there had been markings carved into it, they had been damaged. What he needed was an intact stone. “Go take a
look in da other ‘oles.” he said to Ratish, ”We needs to see if dare’s any
more of dese things in ’em.” “Wot’s wrong?” Hazug responded as he walked down the side of the mound, “Is ya alright Daggot?” “Yeah, I is fine.” Daggot replied, “But ya may wanna take a look at Rurkon.” And both he and Salia looked down at the body of the dead ork. Hazug did the
same and saw that Rurkon’s body was already starting to decompose. “But they’re all rotten as well.” Salia added. “Just like at da farm.” Hazug said. “Dat’s wot I
thought.” Daggot responded. Sophie had just finished wiping clean a large cut to Mayleth’s head when he arrived with Salia and Daggot close behind. “’Ow is she?” Hazug asked, looking over Sophie’ shoulder. “Out cold.” Sophie answered,” She looks to have hit her head when she landed, but I don’t think that there are any broken bones. She could have a concussion though. Perhaps we ought to take her to a medicae.” Hazug shook his head. “If we take
‘er to a painboy ‘e’ll probably try and remove ‘ere ‘ead and replace with
one from a squig.” “Master come
quick! See what Ratish ‘as found!” Ratish suddenly yelled out and as Hazug
looked at him he saw the gretchin waving. “Ratish was walkin’ from dare to dare master.” Ratish replied and he pointed at two of the mounds where the flies had emerged, “Dat’s when I saw dis.” “’Ang on a
mo.” Hazug told him, “We’re comin’ to ya.” And then he reached down and
scooped up the unconscious Mayleth, “Follow me.” He said to the others and
they all headed to where Ratish was waiting. When they reached him Ratish
pointed down the other side of the mound, into the river. Clearly the mound on which they were now standing had been bigger than it was until quite recently when some of it had slid down into the water, not an uncommon occurrence especially if someone who did not know what they were doing disturbed the waste. When this happened the river currents would simply carry a lot of the waste away, but if something was particularly heavy it could settle in the shallow water instead. Just as a rectangular piece of stone had done. Hazug smiled and after setting Mayleth down he strode down to the river back. “Is dat one of ‘em master?” Ratish asked. “I reckon it is.” Hazug replied, “I reckon dat dis is just wot we is lookin’ for.” And he reached down into the water and plucked the stone from the water. Unlike the other charred stone this one was a pale grey and looked to be in perfect condition, the carvings on it still easily readable. However, if they were supposed to say something specific then they were not in any language that Hazug recognised. On one side was a simple pattern of four lines that met in the middle to produce a crude star shape while on the other were three interlinked rings. “Hazug what is
it?” Sophie asked, “What do those carvings mean?” “Is there any
chance someone could help me up please?” she asked, looking up at the
others. “I don’t know.” Rhia replied, “I only speak gothic and orkish.” Hazug scowled. Then a thought struck him “Sir-ramik.” Hazug said to himself. “Pardon?” Sophie asked. “Nothin’.” Hazug replied, “But I got an idea of who may be able to tell us wot dese things is.” Hazug pushed open the door to Mek Batrug’s workshop and strode inside again. “Batrug!” he shouted, “Where is ya?” then when there was no immediate answer he looked at the closest of Batrug’s gretchin labourers, “Where’s ya boss runt?” he demanded. “’E’s gone to see Mek Sawgrat.” The gretchin replied, “Its about da gubbins maker.” “Where’s dat den?” Hazug asked. “Four workshops down.” The gretchin told him, pointing and without another word Hazug left the workshop. Outside Ratish waited in Hazug’s truck, the vehicle having been reclaimed from Two Heads after Mayleth had been delivered into the care of Git Town’s doctors. “Master where ya goin’?” the gretchin called out as Hazug headed down the street towards the workshop of Mek Sawgrat. “Batrug aint in.” Hazug replied, “I is goin’ to find ‘im. Stay and watch me truck.” Mek Sawgrat’s workshop was larger than Batrug’s, but it lacked some of the features that Batrug had added to his own. For example, there was not a large quantity of high explosives set to detonate if anyone tried to break in. An extreme form of security system that had once required Batrug to acquire an entirely new workshop after the last one was last seen as parts of it disappeared into the sky. When Hazug
entered the most obvious thing that struck him however was not the overall
size of the workshop but the number of mekboys in it, a quick count
revealed more than a dozen of them. Typically mekboys jealously guarded
whatever they were doing. Competition between them could be fierce and at
times highly destructive, so for so many to be gathered together had to
mean something important was going on. The last time Hazug had seen such a
gathering was when they had been using a large telescope to observe the
spacehulk as it had entered the system and being intercepted by one of the
spaceships normally berthed in orbit around the planet. This time however
the mekboys were stood watching as gretchin assembled various parts
together to form a massive machine that stretched from one end of the
workshop to the other. “’Ere why is it ya that gets to turn dis thing on?” another of the meks asked and there were mumblings of agreement. “Well one because dis is my workshop.” Sawgrat answered, “And three because I is bigger dan da lot of ya.” On hearing this Hazug was immediately relieved that he had never come to Sawgrat for help. He preferred meks that could count. “So wot is ya gonna make?” Batrug asked. “Somethin’ simple to start with.” Sawgrat answered, “A switchin’ thingy I thinks.” And then he looked towards one end of the machine where a gretchin stood beside several small wooden containers, “Okay den grot, pour in da stuff.” The gretchin nodded and began to pour the contents of the containers into a funnel mounted in the end of the machine. From what Hazug could tell some of them held various metals of different colours while at least one held sand. “Da machine is loaded master.” The gretchin reported as it stood back from the funnel. “And dat controls is set.” Sawgrat added, reaching for a large lever mounted on the side of the machine. With this in one hand he looked at the assembled meks, “Behold!” he announced, “Da future of electronic manufacture!” and as he pulled the lever downwards sharply all of the gretchin in the workshop fled and hid behind other projects and beneath workbenches. From inside the machine there was a low rumbling and the sound of cogs turning. Then there was a hiss and a whistle from further along as the process continued. “Wot’s takin’ so long?” one of the meks asked, “Da git machine was well quicker dan dis.” “Give it chance.” Sawgrat replied, “It’s just runnin’ in, dat’s all.” The rumbling sound grew in volume and the whistle gave way to an unusual gurgle. Then Hazug was sure that heard the sound of human music from somewhere within the machine, not anything that eh recognised but music nonetheless. Then there was a sudden blasts of steam from near the far end of the machine and a bell chimed at the same time as a lamp lit. Finally something was projected from the far end of the machine. Whatever it was it was too small for Hazug to see properly but it came out at such a rate that it struck the far wall and promptly bounced right off, flying back across the workshop. Hazug and the meks stood watching the object as it flew from one side of the workshop to the other, repeatedly bouncing off other objects until it suddenly struck Mek Sawgrat himself right between the eyes. For a moment the mekboy stood upright and motionless, a startled look on his face. “Is ya alright Sawgrat?” one of the other meks asked, reaching out towards him. But as soon as he touched Sawgrat the larger mek fell backwards, ending up lay on his back with his arms and legs spread wide and his dead eyes looking up at the ceiling. “So d’ya all reckon dat it worked?” Batrug asked out loud. “Only way to find out.” Another of the meks answered,” We’ll just ‘ave to cut off ‘is ‘ead and find da thingy to test.” Then he looked up and added, ”Grots! Bring us a saw!” “Batrug.” Hazug said as he made his way through the crowd of mekboys, “I got somethin’ for ya to take a look at.” Batrug grinned and rubbed his hands together in glee. “Hazug me old mate. Ya always brings me da best gubbins to look at. Wotcha got dis time?” As some of the other meks decided that they would rather see what Hazug had brought with him than watch the rest trying to decide the best way to decapitate the corpse of Mek Sawgrat Hazug reached into the bag he was holding and removed the undamaged stone before holding it out to Mek Batrug. Batrug frowned
as he took to stone and then held it up to his ear and shook it. Then he
sniffed it and finally licked the side. “Dat’s probably because it was buried in it.” Hazug said and Batrug frowned again. “Ya could ‘ave told me dat before I licked it.” He said as he reached for the flask of distilled fungus juice in his pocket and took a quick swig to rinse out his mouth while several of the other meks smirked. “I though
maybe it was some of dem sir-ramiks ya told me about.” Hazug
said. “So ‘ow would ay use a lump of rock to bring one of dem daemon thingies ‘ere?” Hazug asked him and Batrug shrugged. “’Ow da
bleedin’ ‘ell should I knows dat?” he asked in reply, “I’s ‘eard of some
git nutters wot can mix machines with dem daemon thingies but us mekboys
don’t do dat. We just make proper machines. And occasionally nail a lad
into somethin’ big, but dat’s different.” “Try askin’ a weirdo.” One of the other mekboys suggested and Batrug scowled. Then he whirled around and, after confirming that the individual who had just spoken was no bigger than he was punched the other mek in his face. “Nice one.”
Hazug said, looking down at the startled mekboy who now had blood pouring
from his nose, “I’ll go and ask one of ‘em now.” And he turned to leave.
As Hazug walked away he heard Mek Batrug speak in a loud voice. All orks and to a lesser extent gretchin generated a certain degree of psychic energy that produced an energy field around them. The orks that were actually able to channel this energy to produce usable effects were known as weirdboys. This orks were compelled to live apart from the bulk of ork society, not because of any prejudice against them but instead for the simple practical reason that if they absorbed too much psychic power then their heads could explode. This unfortunate side effect was even known to spread to other orks in close proximity if enough energy was involved so no sane ork would live anywhere near them. The sanity of orks as something that many other species considered a bizarre concept, but even amongst the orks there were those with less mental soundness than others and these were known to the orks themselves as ‘madboys’. There were two features common to all madboys, firstly they were prone to sudden changes in mood and even personality at random intervals and secondly they were more attuned to the naturally occurring orkish psychic field than other orks apart from the weirdboys themselves and this led them to gather around the weirdboys themselves. Therefore when Hazug parked his truck, dismounted and approached the weirdhut that belonged to Drazzok Headbanga of the Snake Bite clan he found several ork dressed in the colours of an assortment of clans gathered around the base of the copper pole that supported the hut and provided a way for Drazzok to discharge the psychic power his body collected safely into the ground. “Thuggrim I needs to speak to Drazzok.” Hazug told the largest of the madboys gathered outside the hut. This was an ork dressed in the colours of the Bad Moons clan who was large enough to be considered a nob. This was unusual for madboys since most of them tended to get killed before they had the chance to get that large. However this individual had not become a madboy until after he became a nob, instead having been left somewhat unhinged by the surgery that had been necessary to replace his eye with a bionic device. Right no he wore a patch or the socket of this eye while the bionic device itself was kept in a small pouch around his neck until it was needed. “Da great Drazzok is not in residence at this time.” Thuggrim announced loudly. “Yeah ‘e is.” Hazug responded, “If ‘e wasn’t in den all of ya would ‘ave gone with ‘im to wherever ‘e went.” Then Hazug pointed to a chair that was mounted on a small platform fitted with handles that allowed the madboys to carry him aloft. “Da great Drazzok ‘as said dat ‘e aint at ‘ome.” Thuggrim repeated, “And da great Drazzok is never wrong.” And he smiled. Hazug sighed and then took a deep breath before tilting his head back to look up at the tiny hut at the top of the pole. “Drazzok!” he shouted, ”Drazzok get out ‘ere. I needs to speak to ya.” “Thuggrim! Wot did I tells ya about tellin’ people I was in?” Drazzok’s voice called out in response from the hut. “I told ‘im oh great one.” Thuggrim yelled, “Shall I tell ‘im again?” “I can pay.” Hazug shouted and all of a sudden the face of Drazzok appeared over the side of the ledge at the front of his hut. “Ah Hazug. I’ll just be one me way down.” He said and then he began to climb down the hut’s ladder, clutching his metal staff under his arm. “So ‘e aint in
isn’t ‘e?” Hazug said, looking at Thuggrim. “So den, wotcha want dis time Hazug?” Drazzok asked as he reached the bottom of the ladder and planted his staff in the ground. The staff fulfilled the same purpose as the pole on which a weirdhut was mounted, but with the benefit of not only being portable but also of doubling as a weapon should the need arise. In Drazzok’s case the need had arisen quite often thanks to his repeated involvements with Hazug. Standing at the bottom of the ladder Drazzok looked around, including inspecting Hazug’s truck where he saw only Ratish peering out of the vehicle and frowned, “Where’s ya gits?” he asked, “I’s ‘ungry.” Snake Bites were the most socially conservative of all the ork clans and generally shunned the use of aliens as anything other than forced labour during time of war. However, Drazzok was fond of his food more than he disliked humans and so since both Sophie and Salia were able to cook he tolerated their presence, even welcoming it thanks to the fact that they did not contribute towards the orkish psychic field and so could not cause his head to explode by getting too excited. “Dey is in Git Town.” Hazug replied, “Mayleth’s been ‘urt and dey is waitin’ while a human dok takes a look at ‘er.” “Pity.”
Drazzok replied, “I as in da mood for a pie. So wotcha want anyways?” he
then asked and as he approached Hazug the Blood Axe reached into his bag
and took out the undamaged stone, holding it out towards the
weirdboy. “No wait!” Hazug yelled, grabbing hold of the muzzle of Thuggrim’s gun and pushing it aside before it could be damaged. Then he looked at Drazzok, “Drazzok wot is dat thing?” he asked. “It aint right dat’s wot.” The weirdboy replied as he stepped further back, apparently beyond the influence of the stone and he stood up with the help of his staff for support. “Can’t ya do
better dan dat?” Hazug asked him, “Dare was a bunch more of dese things
down by da spoils ‘eaps near da river. All da others is bust-“ “Dunno.” Drazzok answered, “All I can feel from it is rotten stuff, like everythin’ else is spat right out but its scoffin’ up just wot it wants.” Hazug thought about this. The bodies at the farm were all rotten and this stone had been buried in a heap of waste. It seemed obvious that there was some sort of connection. If all someone had to do was plant one of these stones where there was something that was decaying in order to summon a creature like the ones Hazug had faced then the city could soon be over run. Bending down Hazug picked up the stone and put t back into his bag. “Drazzok someone’s usin’ stones like dis to summon daemons.” He said and Drazzok frowned. “Daemons? Like dat thing ya killed by da pansies’ arch?” he asked. “Not as tough as dat one.” Hazug told him, “But dey is still pretty ‘ard. Da boss ‘as asked me to look into it.” Drazzok snorted. “Does da boss do anythin’ without askin’ ya to ‘elp ‘im nowadays? Watch ya back Hazug, dare’s a lot wot won’t want a Blood Axe git lover influencin’ da boss.” “I knows wot I is doin’.” Hazug told him, “But I reckon dat ya could be of ‘elp. Da boss is gonna want to know wot we’ve found and ya is da best one to explain it. Mek Batrug didn’t ‘ave a clue.” “Well of course ‘e didn’t.” Drazzok replied, “Bleedin’ meks aint no good for anythin’ wot dos need nailin’ together. Now tell em just one thing.” “Wot?” Hazug
asked.
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