The casualties the Slayer and his comrades had inflicted had reduced their numbers only by a fifth or so. Kelmain stifled a yawn.

“I believe his soul went to feed the daemon that resides in your bludgeon,” he said. “Or did you not offer him up as a snack to your patron daemon prince? I forget. One meets so many mighty champions of Chaos these days, one simply cannot remember all the dreadful punishments they meted out to those who mocked them.”
“You play a dangerous game, wizard,” said Grume. Wrath twisted his bestial features. He loomed over the mage, nearly twice his height. His hand rested on the hilt of the odd magical mace that normally dangled from his wrist. “By Khorne, you will pay the ultimate price.”
“You are showing the lack of intellect for which the followers of Khorne are so justly renowned,” said Kelmain in a tone of apology and abject grovelling that clearly confused the Chaos warrior. “If you were to kill me or feed my soul to your mighty weapon, there would be no one to open the Paths of the Old Ones for you… or locate the Slayer on your behalf.”
“Then you will do what I command,” said Grume, self-satisfaction evident in his voice. He had chosen to listen to the tone, and not the words, as Kelmain had known he would. Here was a brute used to bullying his way forward over the objections of others.
“Why not? If you succeed, we will have one enemy less. I have no love for Gotrek Gurnisson and would be glad to see him dead.”
“I will give you enchantments to let you locate the Slayer and his axe,” said Kelmain. “When you find him… kill him.”
“If you can,” he added, so quietly that Grume did not hear.

Kelmain watched Grume’s force assemble within the antechamber. The carved heads of obscene toad-like gods seemed to watch them mockingly. Looking into the viewing crystal, he met the gaze of his brother. Lhoigor looked a little weak. Using the spell of speaking over so vast a distance was draining even to a mage of his power.
“You have found Gotrek Gurnisson,” said Lhoigor. It was not a question.
“Yes. My divinations show our fleeing beastmen were right. He is near where we are, at the Sylvanian nexus. One would almost think it was fate,” said Kelmain.
“Perhaps it is. Destiny seems to have marked that one. Or the powers that oppose us.”
“It will most likely prove unfortunate for that giant idiot,” he added, gesturing at Grume with his staff. The huge Chaos warrior ignored him and concentrated on bullying a score of his troops into position. “I should close this portal and leave him to get cold feet treading through the winter snows of the Empire.”
“Call him back, brother, and you could always send him to Lustria, if you are worried about his health in the winter.” Lhoigor’s smile was cold but there was an evil humour in it.
“Or to the gateway in sunken Melay — that would dean his armour for him,” said Kelmain.
“I don’t think our last scouting team returned from testing the path we thought led into the heart of Firemount. Some lava might heat our large friend up nicely.”
“Or to Ulthuan, to teach the elves what happens to those who defy the champions of the Blood God,” said Lhoigor in an almost perfect copy of the Chaos champion’s booming manner. Kelmain laughed, and so eerie was the sound of his mirth that the beastmen looked up and shuddered.
“Get on with it,” bellowed Grume. Kelmain shrugged and gestured expansively.
“I see you have another plan, brother,” said Lhoigor, a look of wicked mirth upon his face.
“As ever, you understand me perfectly. There is more than one way to doom a dwarf.” He picked up the orb of seeing he had taken from the ruins of ancient Lahmia. It felt cold as rock in his hands.