He had a terrible sinking feeling that he knew where all this was going to end up, and he knew that he wanted no part of it.

"There is no way across the Wastes," Gotrek said. Something more than mere caution was in his voice. "I have been there. So has Snorri. So has your uncle. It is insanity to attempt to cross them. Madness and mutation wait for those who would go there. Hell has touched the world in that accursed place."

Felix looked at Gotrek with new respect. Few people had ever travelled so far and returned to tell the tale. To him, as to all folk of the Empire, the Chaos Wastes were but a dire rumour, a hellish land in the far north, from which the terrible armies of the four Ruinous Powers of Chaos emerged to reave and plunder and slay. He had never heard the dwarf speak of having been there, but then he knew little of the Slayer's adventures in the days before they had met. Gotrek did not speak of his past. He seemed ashamed of it. If anything, the dwarfs obvious fear made the place seem even more daunting. There was little enough in this world which dismayed the Slayer, as Felix well knew, so anything that did was to be feared indeed.

"Nonetheless, I believe that is where my uncle wants to go, and he wants you to with him. He has need of your axe."

Gotrek fell silent for long moments. " 'Tis certainly a deed worthy of a Slayer."

It sounds like absolute madness, Felix thought. Somehow he managed to keep his mouth shut.

"Snorri thinks so too."

Then Snorri is an even bigger idiot than he appears to be, thought Felix, and the words almost burst forth from his lips.

"Then you will accompany me to the Lonely Tower?" Varek asked.

"For the prospect of such a doom, I would follow you to the mouth of Hell," Gotrek said.

That's good, Felix thought, because it sounds like that's exactly where you're going. Then he shook his head. The dwarfs madness was beginning to infect him. Was he actually taking all this talk of journeys to the Chaos Wastes seriously? Surely this was just tavern talk and the fit of madness would pass by morning…

"Excellent," Varek said. "I knew you'd come."

 

TWO

MARK OF THE SKAVEN

 

The bouncing of the wagon did nothing for Felix's hangover. Every time a wheel hit one of the deep ruts in the road, his stomach gave a troubled lurch and threatened to send its contents arcing out onto the roadside hedges. The inside of his mouth felt furry. Pressure was building up inside his skull like steam within a kettle. Oddest of all, now he had a terrible craving for fried food. Visions of fried eggs and bacon sizzled through his mind. Now he regretted not having taken breakfast earlier with the Trollslayers, but at the time the sight of them throwing back piled plates of ham and egg and chomping on great hunks of black bread had been enough to turn his stomach. But now he was almost prepared to commit murder for the same food.

It was some consolation to him that the Slayers were more or less silent, save for grumbles in dwarfish which he assumed concerned the awfulness of their hangovers or just how plain dreadful human beer was. Only young Varek seemed cheerful and bright-eyed, but then he ought to.