by Warhammer
‘Where are we, most knowledgeable of navigators?’ Lurk asked. Thanquol wondered if he detected just a hint of irony in Lurk’s tone. He dismissed the thought instantly. Lurk was far too stupid to mock his master.
‘We are coming ever nearer to our destination,’ Thanquol replied with his best oracular vagueness.
‘And where exactly is that, most sagacious of seers?’
‘Cease this relentless badgering, Lurk. If it was in your best interests to know our whereabouts, reveal them to you I would. Let me worry about such matters. You just continue to eat!’
There, thought Thanquol, that showed Lurk. And it gave him some time to think, which was good. For, if the truth be told, Thanquol had no idea where they were. In the storm they had wandered aimlessly. The driving rain had obscured everything more than a few tail lengths from view. He guessed that they were on course, for the mountains were still ahead of them. Once there it should simply mean following the path southwards until they came upon a gateway to the Underways. If worst came to worst, Thanquol knew he could always use some of his power to cast a divination spell. Come to think of it, it might be worth telling Lurk that. It might prevent the massive dolt from braining Thanquol while he slept.
Thanquol considered sneaking off while Lurk rested, and making his own way back. Two things prevented it. He suspected that he might be safer with the mutant here on the plains. The Kislevites would doubtless attack the larger of them first on the mistaken assumption that it was the most dangerous. The second reason was that Thanquol suspected Lurk might well be able to track him down. His senses were as keen as any skaven Thanquol had ever known. And in that case sneaking off would only leave Thanquol with the onerous task of explaining his business. For Lurk in his new impudent state might take exception to such behaviour on the grey seer’s part. Prudent skaven caution argued for staying with Lurk at least for the moment.
Once this was over, though, Thanquol swore, things would be different. He would exact a vengeance on Lurk that would be spoken of in terrified whispers by future generations. That would teach him to heap such indignities on the head of a grey seer.
All except the skeleton crew of the Spirit of Grungni were ushered towards the palace of the Slayer King. An honour guard of warriors clashed their axes upon their shields. Hargrim and the other survivors of Karag Dum had looked stunned at the sheer scale of their welcome. They had once believed themselves the only dwarfs left in the world. Now they knew differently. Felix felt proud to be there. The cheers of the crowds still rang in his ears. He could recall dwarf children running into the street to touch the hem of his cloak so that they could tell their descendants they had done so. Until they had pushed their way through the massed cheering throng, Felix had no idea of the scale of their deed or what it really meant to the dwarf people.
His association with Gotrek, characterised as it was mostly by outlawry and failure, had in no way prepared him for this. It was like being a king. Perhaps this is how Emperor Karl Franz felt every time he rode though Altdorf, Felix thought, and turned and beamed at Ulrika. She smiled up at him proudly. It seemed she too had no idea of what the Spirit of Grungni had accomplished until this moment.
Looking at his companions, Felix felt happier than he had in a long time. The acclaim even seemed to have raised the spirits of Borek and Makaisson, and since Varek’s death these two had looked as thoroughly miserable as any dwarfs Felix had ever seen, which was saying something.
Only Gotrek looked glum. His expression was as sour as that of a man sucking on a lemon. He glared at the crowd from under his bristling brows with his one good eye, and paused only to occasionally spit at an onlooker who came too close to touching his axe.
‘Why so gloomy?’ Felix asked. Gotrek shot him a glare that would have daunted anybody else. ‘I want to know for the telling of your tale,’ Felix added.
‘Tis of no consequence,’ Gotrek said. ‘And it would not do to mention it in my death poem.’
‘Tell me anyway.’
Gotrek sucked his few remaining teeth, spat on the ground, and worked his thumb into the empty socket below his eyepatch. Felix thought he was not going to reply, but then a shame-faced look passed across the Slayer’s face. ‘I was thinking that if I had died slaying the daemon, it would have been the mightiest doom ever achieved by a Slayer. A laughable, empty vanity, manling, but it crossed my mind.’
Felix did not know what to say so he kept quiet. Ulrika looked at Gotrek, astonished, as if she had never considered the dwarf capable of such an admission. ‘Well, I am glad you’re still alive, and that you brought Felix back.’
To Felix’s astonishment the Slayer laughed. He looked as if he was going to clap Ulrika on the back but caught himself, and forced himself to look grim once more. He glared at the ground, as if embarrassed. At that moment, Felix caught some indication of how much this approbation really meant to the Slayer, how much it actually meant to him to be cheered by his people, and just how well he was hiding it.
I’m happy for him, thought Felix; he has little enough in his life to give him joy.
The Slayer King was a morose-looking dwarf, squat and powerful like all his race, his hair cut in the distinctive crested fashion favoured by the Cult of Grimnir. His features were massive and his nose was long and beaky. His eyes glittered with a maniacal intelligence. His voice when he spoke was resonant and powerful. ‘Greetings, Borek Forkbeard. Greetings, Gotrek, son of Gurni. Greetings Snorri Nosebiter. Greetings Malakai, son of Makai.’
Felix feared the Slayer King was going to greet them all by name, and his fears proved well-founded. He did so.
‘You have performed a deed of great renown, all of you. Not in all the long years since I ascended my father’s throne have I heard of such heroism. The return of Firebeard’s hammer is a blessing beyond measure to the kingdom of the dwarfs, and all the kin of Grungni have cause to thank you this day. If there is any boon I can grant you, you have but to name it and–’
‘Aye, there is,’ said Makaisson.
The Slayer King paused and eyed Makaisson balefully. He was just getting into his oratorical stride and obviously had not anticipated any interruptions just yet. Felix wondered if all dwarf kings were so long-winded.
‘You have but to tell me, and if it’s in my power–’
‘Ah want a workshop and the service of twenty blacksmiths, and ah want to ken everythin’ you can fin oot aboot a big beast o’ a dragon that dwells aboot fifty leagues northwest o’ here...’
A gasp passed around the room. ‘That would be Skjalandir, the ancient firedrake. Why?’ enquired the Slayer King, obviously shocked to brevity.
‘Ah’m gannae kill the basturd,’ Makaisson said. ‘Stone deid!’
‘And I’m going to help him,’ Gotrek said.
‘Snorri Nosebiter will too,’ said Snorri. A huge roar of applause passed through the chamber.
‘Truly you are stalwart examples to Slayers the world over,’ said the Slayer King. ‘You have no sooner returned from one mighty deed than you show willing to start another...’
Listening to this madness, it struck Felix that there was a larger issue here which should be addressed. While the Slayers were excited about the prospect of facing the dragon once more, a massive Chaos army was on the move. In the great scheme of things he was sure it posed a larger threat to the world than a single dragon ever would. He thought he saw an opportunity here to make a difference, and to help Ulrika’s people and his own.
‘There is another thing worth mentioning,’ Felix spoke up. All eyes in the chamber turned to him. He felt suddenly selfconscious. He was well aware that not all the dwarfs looking at him were pleased that a human was daring to speak in the throne room of their king.
‘And what is that, Felix Jaeger?’ asked the Slayer King.
‘A huge Chaos army approaches from the north.’
‘Does it pursue you?’ the Slayer King asked. Felix paused for a moment to think about this. It was something he had never
considered. Had their deeds in Karag Dum been the start of all this, the pebble that caused the avalanche? He doubted it. The whole idea was too far fetched.
‘No. I do not think so.’
‘Then why is it a problem? I can see that if–’
‘Because soon it will enter Kislev, and if it is not stopped there, it will thrust onwards into the lands of dwarfs and men.’
‘Surely that is a bridge that will be crossed when we come to it?’
Felix could see that this was going to be the old, old story. The forces of Darkness were someone else’s problem. Men and dwarfs would not unite their forces until after it was too late. The enemy would be dealt with only once it became an immediate threat. In the meantime others could fight and die facing it. Felix realised he was being unfair but he felt a little angry. He had learned enough about dwarfs not to let his anger show. They became unbearably stubborn in any form of conflict.
‘I suppose all the glory of facing it will belong to the people of Kislev and their Imperial allies then,’ he said calmly. A quiet came over the room, and he knew he had their full undivided attention. ‘I mentioned it only because this dwarfhold is known as Slayer Keep, and when the Chaos force arrives there will be many mighty monsters to slay and dreadful foes to face.’
A murmur went around the room. Felix knew that his words would be passed around the city swiftly. Even if the king offered no aid, he felt sure that many Slayers would go to Kislev in the hope of achieving a mighty death. To make his point absolutely clearly, he added,. ‘It would be a great and memorable doom to fall in such a battle. After all, who does not remember those heroes who fell in defence of Praag during the last great war against Chaos?’
Ungrimm Ironfist’s reply surprised Felix. ‘That was but a short time ago as dwarfs reckon such things, Felix Jaeger, but your point is well taken. I will think upon what you have said.’
Of course, Felix thought, dwarfs live longer than men, and their records stretch back further. To them two centuries was not so long ago. Old Borek there had actually been alive during the last great Chaos incursion. Borek’s rheumy eyes caught Felix’s glance and seemed to be aware of what he was thinking. The old dwarf leaned forward on his staff and spoke.
‘Felix Jaeger speaks to good purpose, your majesty. I can indeed recall the last war with Chaos and it was a dreadful thing. If another such conflict is in the offing we had best prepare now, make new alliances and stand by the old ones. For those of us who have but recently been in the Wastes have seen this foe at first hand and know how terrible it is.’
The Slayer King nodded. Borek continued to speak. ‘It may be that the Hammer of Firebeard was returned to us at this time by the will of the Ancestor Gods to aid us in the coming battle. Perhaps all of this is part of a greater design than we can comprehend.’
‘I will seek guidance at the Temple of Grimnir,’ said the Slayer King. ‘It may well be that what you say is true.’
Felix felt grateful to the old dwarf for his wisdom and understanding.
‘That’s aw very weil,’ Makaisson said. ‘Ah still want that dragon deid. Ah would like to use your engineering shops and your forges. Ah think ah hae an idea o’ hoo tae dae it.’
‘Whatever you require shall be provided, Malakai Makaisson, and my own personal engineers shall be put at your service.’
Makaisson did not look quite so happy at this, Felix thought. He guessed that the prospect of sharing his new designs with the king’s engineers did not thrill him. Like many a dwarf engineer, Makaisson preferred to keep his secrets, Felix guessed. On the other hand, he could not turn down the king’s offer with good grace and still expect aid. Makaisson seemed to have come to the same conclusion.
‘Aye, weel, that’ll dae fine.’
Felix and Ulrika inspected their chamber. It was spartan in the style he had come to expect at Karak Kadrin, but at least the bed and other furnishings were built on a human scale. It was obvious this place was designed for human emissaries and equally obvious that it had not been used in some time. The air smelled a little musty. Instead of blankets a mass of furs covered the bed.
‘I thought that was never going to end,’ Ulrika said. ‘Dwarfs can be very long-winded when they want to be.’
Felix agreed. ‘True. Still this was an important thing for them. In some ways I suppose it would be as if one of the Runefangs had been lost and returned to the Empire. Probably more so. Firebeard’s hammer appears to have religious significance to them.’
‘Everything seems to,’ Ulrika said. There was an undertone of antagonism to her words. She seemed to be wanting to disagree with him, and he with her. They had been this way ever since their talk that night on the Spirit of Grungni. Felix guessed they were both nervous about what the future held for them. He reached out and stroked her cheek. She caught his hand and turned it palm up to kiss it.
‘What is going to happen to us, Felix?’ she asked suddenly.
Felix looked at her. He was wondering that himself. All through this long day there had been a strange tension between them, an undertone of anger that he did not quite understand. What was there to be so nervous about? They had survived the trip here, lived through an encounter with a dragon, and the near destruction of the airship. Why were they behaving so now?
He looked down at her beautiful face. She had never seemed so lovely. He searched for an answer to her question within himself. Perhaps it was the very fact that they were safe that was causing them this stress. Now, at least for the moment, there were no external threats to distract them, nothing to keep them from the question that was now being asked. What was to become of them?
Their lives were so uncertain. A massive Chaos army approached from the north. Perhaps it was the harbinger of the end of the world. Somewhere far to the north her father and his riders might even now be facing the oncoming horde. Gotrek, Malakai and Snorri Nosebiter seemed determined to go and face the dragon. Ulrika had been charged with a mission to the Ice Queen. She almost certainly would have no home to go back to. And what could he offer her?
He was not rich. He had been disowned by his family and then rejected their offer of reconciliation. He was merely a landless wanderer bound to record the Slayer’s doom. Worse than that, he was starting to suspect that it was his own doom too. He and Gotrek had travelled so far and survived so much that their destinies seemed intertwined. He could almost believe that the Slayer was destined to perform some world-shaking deed and it was his duty to witness it.
He realised that the silence had stretched for many heartbeats and he still had not answered her, that he had no answer to give. ‘I do not know,’ he said softly, ‘and I wish I did.’
‘So do I,’ she said. ‘So do I.’
She leaned forward and kissed him, and they fell entwined onto the bed.
Max Schreiber stalked the streets of Karak Kadrin, knowing that he had found what he was looking for. Around him the buildings were higher, the doorways taller. In the narrow alleyways, he could hear human voices mingling with the deeper tones of the dwarfs. Men and women of the Empire looked at him from the open fronts of shops. They sat among their goods. Some looked at him speculatively, seeing him for what he was. Others shouted invitations to him to come in and study their wares. Max smiled. Even in these remote mountains, in this citadel of the Elder Race, there was a small human quarter. Men and dwarfs were bound by many ancient ties of faith and alliance, but none were more ancient than the bonds of trade. He had known that even here, in this distant highland city, he would find merchants, and with them a way of communicating with his order and his allies. He reached inside his robes and found the letter he had written and closed with his own rune. He smiled, feeling the magic he had woven into it. No one but a member of his order would be able to open the letter without the script vanishing like mist in the morning sun.
Just in case, though, he had written the message in code which he hoped was readable only to one of his fellows. In the letter he had put all he knew of
the Spirit of Grungni’s journey and the oncoming Chaos army. He mentioned the increased skaven activity along the border and he described in detail his encounter with the grey seer and the spells that it had unleashed. In this way, he thought, even if something happened to him, those who came after would be better prepared to deal with the ratman threat. In a way it was a testament to his life as well as a report to his superiors in the order of the Golden Hammer. He knew his report was timely. It had been a long time since any member of the ancient society had ventured as far north as Max had, and even knowing what he did about the Powers of Chaos, he had been shocked by what he had seen and heard. The arm of Chaos had grown long, and Kislev itself was threatened. And Kislev was the bulwark of the Empire against the incursions of Chaos. If it fell, then the hordes of Darkness could drive deep into the lands of men. And he did not doubt that many traitors would rise up to aid them, and the monsters and mutants of the woods would emerge and...
Max knew only too well how frail the Empire was, and how easily it might fall into darkness. It was what his order had been formed to guard against. He knew that he must send a warning. He hoped to deliver it himself in person, but the future was never certain, and who knew what might happen to him? This letter was a safeguard against ill-chance. Even if he were to die, he hoped his warning and his knowledge would find its way into the right hands.
He paused in front of a tavern, bearing the sign of the Emperor’s Griffon. He knew that he needed to find traders returning to the lands of men, preferably some who were heading all the way to Middenheim. This was a place he had been told he might find some. He took a deep breath and entered the beery warmth of the tavern’s interior.
As he entered the place fell silent. He knew he had been recognised as one of the men who had arrived on the airship. He glanced around and smiled. Immediately someone offered to buy him a drink. He smiled his acceptance and prepared himself to answer a thousand questions.
Hopefully, after that, he would find someone to deliver his message.
