Free Gotrek and Felix: The Anthology by Various

turned to keep him in front of him. Enraged by this behaviour, Spike Helm charged. Stinkfoot side-slipped and Spike Helm stumbled past, his spiked mace crushing only air, then turned again to face the warboss.
    Across the circle, Stinkfoot raised his bandaged foot and thrust it at Spike Helm as if he was trying to kick him in the privates. He didn’t come close. His opponent was six paces away from him, and yet, astoundingly, the huge orc went down anyway, toppling like a side of beef cut from a hook to sprawl on the floor, unmoving.
    Felix stared as all the orcs in the room quieted in fear and awe. Had it been magic? Had it been a trick? Was the stink of Stinkfoot’s foot so vile that it could kill an orc at six paces?
    ‘That wasn’t right,’ said Agnar. ‘How did he do that?’
    Stinkfoot stepped up onto the huge barrel chest of his fallen rival and raised his bulging arms, roaring his dominance to the others. The orcs echoed his roar, shaking their weapons and headbutting each other in excitement. The chamber shuddered with the sound of it.
    Over this clamour, Stinkfoot roared again, and pointed with his axe to a great archway on the north side of the chamber. The orcs howled in response, then gathered up and started forward.
    ‘It begins,’ said Agnar. ‘They go to war.’
    ‘And we’re too late to warn Thorgrin,’ said Henrik.
    ‘But not too late to do what that dead orc couldn’t,’ said Gotrek. He nodded towards a balcony over the great arch through which Stinkfoot’s army was flowing, and towards which Stinkfoot himself was slowly moving. It was connected to the one they were on by a columned gallery. ‘If we run, we can jump down on the greenskin before he passes under that arch.’
    Agnar’s eyes glittered eagerly. ‘Aye. Aye!’
    The two Slayers hurried north into the gallery.
    As Felix and Henrik started after them, Henrik cleared his throat. ‘Slayer Gurnisson, ah, perhaps you should let Agnar jump first when we get there.’
    ‘Why?’ asked Gotrek without slowing.
    ‘Er, well, you have robbed Agnar of two dooms already on this trek. To make up for it–’
    Gotrek ground his teeth. ‘I’ve robbed no one. If he wants to jump first, let him try.’
    ‘You interfered. Twice,’ insisted Henrik, raising his voice.
    Felix cringed. ‘Quiet! The orcs are right below us.’
    Henrik ignored him. ‘You blocked blows meant for Agnar during the minehead fight! And just now you distracted the troll when it was sure to have killed him! A s layer’s honour demands–’
    Gotrek snorted. ‘No manling can lecture me about a s layer’s honour. I warned you I would–’
    ‘Then I will lecture you!’ barked Agnar, and stopped to face him. ‘Gotrek Gurnisson, you have left the way of the s layer. A true s layer could not follow the true path for ten years and still live.’
    Gotrek stopped and stared at him with his single baleful eye for a moment, then turned and continued down the passage. ‘There’s no time for this. We must reach the arch.’
    ‘Do you deny it, then?’ asked Henrik. ‘Do you call Agnar a liar?’
    ‘What are you doing?’ whispered Felix. ‘Why stir trouble when they’ll both find their dooms in that jump? Leave it be!’
    Henrik carried on as if Felix hadn’t spoken. ‘Will you let him call you a liar, Agnar?’
    ‘I will not!’ Agnar stumped after Gotrek and spun him around with a hand on his shoulder. Gotrek shoved him back, sending him into the wall.
    ‘Do not lay hands on me, Agnar Arvastsson.’
    Agnar pushed off the wall and stepped again in front of Gotrek, blocking the way to the balcony. ‘Why did you attack the orcs just now, when there was a troll before you?’ He asked. ‘A true s layer should attack the most dangerous foe.’
    ‘I killed the orcs to distract the troll with their meat,’ said Gotrek, with surprising restraint. ‘It made it easier to kill. Now let me by.’
    ‘Easier to kill?’ Agnar shook with rage. ‘Easier to kill? A s layer