by Warhammer
They passed more pictures, alternating male and female, and all as beautifully executed and as disturbing as the first two. All were nightscapes. One showed a woman modelled as a goddess with a crown of laurel leaves on her head and a bow in the other. There was a powerfully built man stripped to the waist who looked strong as a bull. His head was shaved and he possessed an enormous walrus moustache. He toasted the viewer with a glass of red liquid while an adoring child clutched at his leg. The child’s eyes glowed a sinister red.
Felix paused in front of the fifth picture, for he thought he recognised the features of the countess. Certainly the proportions were correct, and the face looked like the one hinted at through her veil. It was not possible to be certain, of course, but he knew that it was possible that she had posed for the artist all those long centuries ago.
He hurried past this painting. Neither Gotrek nor Snorri Nosebiter had spent as much time in the company of the countess as he had, so he doubted that either of them would recognise her. He did not want to take the chance of Snorri doing so now. He might just go charging back into the camp and give the game away although that might not be such a bad thing. He glanced over his shoulder. Gotrek and Snorri were checking doors, inspecting the rooms beyond. He decided to take a look at the next painting and then wait for them.
He recognised the man in it immediately. It was beyond a shadow of a doubt Adolphus Krieger, dressed in heavy black robes, a book tucked under his left arm, a glass of the red liquor held in his right. Two adoring women crouched beside him, naked save for diaphanous robes, looks that could only be described as worshipful engraved on their faces.
Felix paused to consider the picture. Krieger looked every inch the aristocrat: arrogant, swaggering, unafraid. A secretive smile played on his lips.
‘It’s a very good likeness, isn’t it?’ said a voice from nearby. Felix whirled, tearing his blade from the scabbard. He looked in the direction the words had come from. It was almost as if his earlier fantasy about the pictures coming to life had happened. Krieger stood there looking unchanged from the picture.
‘Belardo was a genius in his way. He was one of the greatest of the Tilean painters, I always thought. Of course, the common folk never forgave him for taking our commissions. I heard that after Hel Fenn he was burned atop a pile of his works in the public square in Talabheim. Someone betrayed him as he tried to pass through the city in secret.’
Without taking his eyes from the vampire, Felix set the lamp on the floor.
Krieger looked as relaxed as he had in the picture, but instinct warned Felix that charging him would be most unwise. Instead he began to inch forward, blade held ready, nerves keyed. He doubted he had ever been more wound up in his entire life. Without taking his eyes off the vampire, he shouted, ‘Gotrek! Snorri! Look what crawled out of the woodwork.’
‘Now, now, Herr Jaeger, that’s not very polite. I come here to make pleasant conversation with you, and you start tossing insults.’
‘I’d rather toss you over the balcony. What have you done with Ulrika?’ The vampire smiled, showing all his fangs. The sound of pounding feet told him that the Slayers were rushing to join him.
‘I have not done her any harm, I promise you. I am sure she will be delighted to see you.’
Felix edged ever closer. He was all too aware of the long drop into the great hall below. He did not doubt that the vampire was swift enough and strong enough to toss him over the balcony without difficulty given the slightest opportunity. He did not intend to let that happen if he could help it.
‘Where is she?’
‘If you want her, you’ll have to find her yourself. She’s somewhere in the castle.’
Felix was almost within striking distance now. He tested the floor beneath him pressing gently with his foot before putting all his weight on it, fearing a trap. He did not like the vampire’s look of confidence. He had not even drawn his weapon yet. The Eye of Khemri glittered hypnotically at his throat.
‘Now you die, bloodsucker!’ bellowed Gotrek.
Krieger’s smile widened. He raised his arms wide. Mist bubbled around his feet and enshrouded his form. As it did so, he began to fade, almost as if his body was dissolving into the swirling fog. A faint hint of decay hit Felix’s nostrils. He leapt forward and slashed with his sword at where he thought he saw the vampire’s outline.
His blade encountered no resistance. Instead there was a sickening lurch as his foot passed through the rotting floorboards. The whole world wheeled around him. He dropped his blade, desperately trying to catch hold of something to prevent himself falling all the way to the hard floor of the great hall so far below.
‘Gotrek! Snorri! Stop! It’s a trap!’ he shouted. Evil, distant laughter rang in his ears. The floor gave way beneath him and he began to fall. Felix grabbed the edge of the hole with his hands. Splintered wood bit into his palm. Pain surged along his nerve endings. He fought the urge to let go, knowing that if he did so, he would most certainly fall to his doom. The old rotten boards began to come apart. Frantically he flailed about with his right hand, trying to get a better grip. The shift of weight swung his body around, and he felt his fingers losing their grip. A long way below his boots, death beckoned.
Groaning he tried to find something to grip on and failed. His last tenuous handhold gave way. His stomach lurched as gravity gripped him and pulled down towards certain death.
ELEVEN
Strong fingers gripped Felix’s wrist. It felt like his arm was being pulled out of its socket by the wrenching shock. Looking up, he saw the Slayer’s tattooed arm. Gotrek was taking all of his weight one-handed. Snorri stood wide-legged, his hand gripping the Slayer’s belt, anchoring Gotrek in case the rotted boards beneath him gave way. A moment later he was pulled back out of the hole.
Felix’s breath came in gasps. He wiped sweat from his brow and tried to calm his racing heart. Neither of the dwarfs showed any sign of strain. Snorri walked calmly over to where Felix’s sword lay, picked it up and returned it to him. ‘Snorri thinks now is not a good time to be throwing your weapons away, young Felix,’ he said.
‘I am inclined to agree with you,’ said Felix, limping over to where the lantern stood. As his fingers closed on its handle, he winced. Splinters of wood from the broken floor were driven deeply into his flesh. He inspected his hand for a moment, and used his dagger point to pick them out.
‘What was that all about, manling?’ rumbled Gotrek.
Felix looked up at the dwarf. ‘He has Ulrika. She is here somewhere. Or so he says.’
‘Perhaps he just wants us to go running off looking for her.’
Felix nodded. It seemed very likely, considering what had just happened. This was the vampire’s home territory, after all. He knew it well. He could lead them around by the nose until they fell into more traps. Still, he did not see what other options they had.
Even as he thought this, he saw that Krieger had reappeared much further down the balcony. He waved mockingly as if challenging them to come and get him. Snorri Nosebiter raced forward, with Gotrek in hot pursuit.
‘Wait,’ shouted Felix. ‘What if he’s leading us into a trap?’
‘We wouldn’t want to disappoint him then, manling. Would we?’
‘I suppose not,’ muttered Felix, following swiftly on the heels of the dwarfs.
Max Schreiber glanced up at the ceiling. For a moment, he had seen Felix’s feet dangling through a gap in the floor, and then the man had vanished back through the hole.
‘What’s going on up there?’ Ivan Petrovich asked.
‘Exactly what I was wondering, my friend,’ Max replied.
‘We should go up there and help them.’
‘I did not hear any cries for aid,’ said Max. ‘And I can’t think of three people better able to look after themselves.’
‘I suppose you are right.’
‘Don’t worry. They’ll be back soon.’
One of the archers came over. ‘I thought I saw another
man up there in the gallery with them.’
Max knew the man had been standing at a better angle than he had been to see. ‘Describe him.’
‘I could not see all that well in the gloom. But he was tall with black hair and pale skin. Sounds like the one we are after.’
The horse-soldier sounded scared, and Max did not blame him.
‘Maybe we should go up there,’ said Ivan. Max shook his head. Instead he concentrated his mind and began an incantation. A wave of dizziness swept over him as he fought to overcome the strange resistance in the place, then he looked out from the sphere of light hovering over his shoulder. There was a moment of disorientation until his brain adjusted to the fact that the man beneath him was in fact himself. He willed the sphere to rise and watched the camp dwindle beneath him, then sent it arcing up to the hole in the gallery floor. There was a faint queasy feeling in his stomach. He had never liked using this spell. When he moved his point of view up to great heights it made him nauseous with vertigo.
He looked through the hole and saw nothing. Swiftly he sent the light darting around the gallery, knowing he would have to act quickly. Turning the sphere into an eye entailed setting up a complex weave of forces that was difficult to maintain here. It would swiftly unravel even with the utmost concentration. Under his breath he cursed the dark magical wards on this place.
His eye swept through the gallery of portraits. He saw no one, no signs of a struggle, no bodies, no blood. His comrades had simply disappeared. The most logical explanation was they had left the gallery through one of the many doorways. But where and why? There were too many exits for him to explore before his spell faltered. All he was doing was wasting power. He opened his own eyes and let the spell unwind. Overhead the golden eye disintegrated in a shower of sparks.
‘They are gone,’ he said to Ivan Petrovich.
‘Dead?’ The old boyar sounded dismayed.
Max shook his head. ‘Just vanished beyond the range of my mage sight. There’s no need to assume the worst.’
‘In this place?’
Max shrugged. ‘They can look after themselves.’
He wished he felt as confident as he sounded, and cursed the Slayers for going wandering off on such a wild goose chase.
‘I will take some of the men and go look for them.’
‘That would not be wise, Ivan Petrovich. Our forces are already far more dispersed than seems sensible. Why chance losing more?’
He suspected that in this place, at this time, it was going to take all of their combined resources to survive. He noticed that the countess and her henchmen were looking at him appraisingly. Max sincerely hoped that they had not brought an enemy within. Judging by those looks he would not have bet gold on it.
There was one good thing about dwarfs, Felix reflected, as he jogged down the corridor. They were easy to keep up with. Because of their short strides any chase involving them was naturally a very slow one. The vampire could have left them behind any time he wanted to, which meant that he had his own reasons for luring them deeper and deeper into this ancient stronghold.
He had completely lost track of time and distance since they had left the great hall. He had no idea where they were or how they were going to get back. This whole place was a maze. The pursuit swept them through an endless succession of rooms of decaying grandeur, rotting fittings, and crumbling beauty. He remembered fleeting glimpses of peeling wallpaper and walls blotched black with mould, of painted ceilings where god-like vampires depicted in fading paints glared down from scenes of hellish cruelty. The stink of mould, decomposing leather and stagnant water filled his nostrils.
Ten more minutes of running through the decaying chambers convinced him of something else. One of the bad things about dwarfs was that by human standards they were near tireless. Felix’s long bout of illness had not left him in the best physical condition. Sweat ran down his brow, and his breathing was laboured. He felt winded and he had a stitch in his side. Far off in the distance, the mocking figure of Krieger loomed. Felix decided that for the moment he could go no further.
‘Wait!’ he gasped, bending double, bracing his hands on his thighs. ‘Wait! This is getting us nowhere except lost.’
The Slayers reluctantly halted and turned to look at him. ‘Dwarfs don’t get lost,’ said Gotrek.
‘That’s not exactly correct,’ said Felix. ‘I can remember a few occasions. When we were coming back from the land of the Border Princes for example–’
‘Let me rephrase that, manling. Dwarfs don’t get lost underground, in mines or deep delvings.’
‘I may be being a little obtuse here but we’re not in a mine.’
‘We’re in a building. The principle is the same. I can remember all the twists and turns of every passage we took. So can Snorri.’
‘That’s right,’ said Snorri. ‘Snorri could find his way back to the entrance with his eyes closed.’
‘I don’t think that will be necessary,’ said Felix. He glanced along the corridor. Krieger was nowhere in sight. ‘It seems that our bloodsucking friend is sulking now that we’re not playing his little game.’
‘Maybe not, manling.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I think he’s brought along some playmates.’
Felix looked at the Slayer. He had no idea what Gotrek meant.
‘Listen!’ said the Slayer. ‘Can’t you hear them?’
Felix shook his head. All he could hear was the sound of his own rasping breath, and his heartbeat drumming in his chest. Gotrek and Snorri grinned at each other in anticipation. This was a bad sign. Felix’s heart sank.
A few moments later he heard what they were talking about: a distant stealthy padding of many feet, strange high-pitched chittering voices that yet had something horribly human about them.
‘Ghouls,’ he said mournfully, and whipped his sword through the air in practice passes to loosen his muscles for the struggle.
‘Lots of them,’ said Snorri happily.
‘Coming from behind us as well,’ added Gotrek almost gleefully.
‘A trap,’ said Felix.
‘We’ll see who for,’ said Gotrek, smiling nastily. He dragged his thumb along the edge of his blade. A bright drop of blood appeared. Feeling hopeless, Felix glanced left and right. In both directions he saw faint pinpoints of reddish light, the reflections of his lantern in the eyes of monsters.
Krieger smiled happily. Things were going very well. The foolish dwarfs had been lured away from their compatriots with remarkable ease. Now his army of ghouls would overwhelm them. This might actually be a good time to change his initial plans and take the Kislevites in the great hall. He sped along the corridor, fingers stroking the Eye of Khemri lovingly, sending his silent call speeding through the darkness. Everywhere in the massive building his undead minions responded.
Max opened his eyes when he felt the vampire touch the web of warding spells woven around him. He came awake instantly, glad to leave the nightmares behind, and looked at the countess.
‘I would not come any closer if I were you,’ he said cautiously. The thought of this creature approaching while he slept was a disturbing one. ‘You will trigger some particularly nasty wards.’
The countess adjusted her veil. ‘I noticed. That is why I have made no attempt to touch you.’
So she could see his spell webs well enough to know what would trigger them. That was worth knowing. Max filed the information away for future reference. The countess shivered. ‘I came to tell you that Krieger is doing something, sending out a summons to anything dark within this place that can respond. There will be many such things here.’
‘I believe you,’ said Max. He was more than a little disturbed. His own wards should have woken him at the first trace of any such thing happening. It seemed the dark magic saturating this place was doing more to suppress his powers than he had realised. Once more he cursed whoever had cast them, then pushed the thought aside as childish. Curses wouldn’t help him or
Ulrika now.
‘I think we should be prepared for an attack,’ said Gabriella. ‘I have already sent Rodrik to waken the others.’
All around him the Kislevites wiped sleep from their eyes and reached for their weapons. The horses shifted restlessly, as if they knew something dreadful was going to happen. Damn, he thought, why couldn’t Gotrek and Felix have stayed here? Their blades would have made a big difference in any battle. No sense in wishing for the impossible. What is done is done. Work with what you have.
‘You can sense other presences in this place?’ he asked, realising the implications of what she had just said.
‘Only if they are very close. A spark of dark magic animates most undead constructs. You should be able to see it as well as I. I am merely deducing that if Krieger sends a summons then he expects it to be answered.’
‘That would seem logical.’
Gabriella nodded. ‘Herr Schreiber, we will soon be fighting for our very existences, and the penalty for losing may be something worse than death. I would have some things understood clearly before the fighting begins.’
‘Such as?’
‘Such as that we are both on the same side here. I wish no accidents to happen to myself or to my men in the heat of battle. Things will be difficult enough fighting one enemy without having to worry about another at our backs.’
‘I was thinking the same thing myself.’
‘Then we have a truce?’
‘We have had that since the Green Man. I will not be the first to break it.’
