Gotrek & Felix- the First Omnibus - William King

by Warhammer

  ‘The Terror?’ Felix said.

  ‘Of that it is best not to speak,’ said Hargrim. ‘For it is our doom. When first it came it took the lives of hundreds of stout warriors. Our runemaster gave his life to drive it off. Now that it has returned I doubt that anything can stop it – although your axe gives me some hope, Gotrek Gurnisson.’

  Felix’s heart sank as he saw Gotrek and Snorri exchange glances. He knew that Hargrim had aroused the Slayer’s professional interest. Hargrim saw this too and shook his head.

  ‘Tell me: what do you think King Thangrim is thinking about?’ Felix asked, just to change the subject. ‘Do you think it likely that he will send messengers to the outside world.’

  ‘I do not know, Felix Jaeger. I think it likely that we will all die here.’

  After that there was silence for a minute, and then Gotrek spoke: ‘I wish to know more of this creature known as the Terror.’

  ‘This does not surprise me,’ Hargrim said, looking up and inspecting the dwarf’s tattoos. ‘You wish to hunt it?’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘That would not be wise.’

  ‘It is not a question of wisdom. It is a question of my doom.’

  ‘And Snorri’s,’ said Snorri.

  ‘Spoken like true Slayers,’ Hargrim said. ‘Very well. I will tell what I know of this fell creature. It is a daemon of Chaos, potent and deadly. It was summoned by Skathlok in the last days of the siege and he treated it not as a master treats a servant but as a warrior treats his king. It came upon us at the south-west gate after that was thrown down and none of us could stand against it. It slew a dozen heroes armed with potent rune weapons. It almost slew King Thangrim himself when he faced it in the Hall of Shadows. They exchanged blows for mere moments but it had the mastery. He could not believe its strength.’

  Gotrek reached down and grabbed his axe. A gleam had come into his eye. ‘It must be strong indeed to withstand the Hammer of Fate.’

  ‘Stronger than anything it is, Gotrek Gurnisson. More fell by far than the three orc chieftains of the Red Fang. More dangerous than the three ogre mages of Ventragh Heath. Deadlier even than the dragon Glaugir, for all its poison breath. I speak without boasting when I say I have stood beside my liege as he measured himself against mighty foes, but this vile thing was by far the mightiest. I doubt that in the full pride of his youth, even so great a warrior as Thangrim Firebeard could have overcome it.’

  ‘How then was it beaten?’ asked Felix, licking his lips nervously. ‘How did you survive to tell us this tale.’

  ‘It was not beaten, it was driven off when our high Runesmith Valek smote it with the sacred axe you carry, then invoked the Rune of Unbinding. Such a wound it was that anything but a creature so great would have died instantly. This thing merely withdrew into the deepest depths of the mountain, near its fiery heart. It must have brooded down there for many years, recovering its strength, for now it has returned. As it prophesied.’

  ‘Prophesied?’

  ‘Even as it disappeared, it told us it would return to be our doom. It told the king that one day it would return and tear out his heart with its claws and devour it before his still-living eyes, and he told Thangrim that this was his doom. And all of us who heard it believed this prophecy, for there was a flat truth in its voice.’

  ‘It was a daemon,’ Felix said softly. ‘Daemons have been known to lie.’

  ‘Aye, but this one gloated as it spoke and we knew that it intended to work our ruin in its own time and way. Some of the warriors even suspect that this is why we have been allowed to survive for so long. And our Runesmith Valek also spoke a prophecy before he died. He told us to fear not, for his axe also would return to us when the Last Days came. Many of us wondered about this prophecy, for how could the axe return to us when it was destined to remain hidden in our fortresses. Then the king’s son took the axe and we thought it lost. And lo, you have returned it to us but a score of days after the Terror returned.’

  He looked meaningfully at Gotrek’s axe. ‘You can see why your coming has disturbed the king.’

  ‘How did Valek invoke this Rune of Unbinding?’ Gotrek asked.

  ‘I know not. He was a runesmith and knew many secrets. I only know that he summoned its power and it killed him, consuming his life even as it banished the daemon. The axe you bear is old and potent beyond all reckoning. It passed from runesmith to runesmith from the most ancient times. Its full history was passed only from bearer to bearer, but with Valek’s death the tale was lost. His son and apprentice fell before him in that final battle. The king’s son, Morekai, took it from the runesmith’s smouldering corpse and bore it away with him when he tried to cross the Wastes.’

  ‘Then without the Rune of Unbinding this creature cannot be beaten?’ Felix asked.

  ‘Who can say. That weapon is potent indeed even without the Rune of Unbinding. Perhaps in the hands of a warrior sufficiently strong…’

  ‘Describe this daemon,’ Gotrek said.

  Hargrim leaned forward drunkenly and rested his chin on his fist. For a moment, he smiled a smile empty of all humour. Then he sank into reverie and gazed off into the distance, as if looking once more on a sight he would rather not see.’

  ‘Huge it was,’ he said eventually. ‘More than twice the height of a tall man. Vast were its wings. Vast and bat-like, and when it unfurled them there was a crack like thunder. In one hand it bore a terrible whip. In the other an axe emblazoned with evil and eldritch runes that hurt the eye to look upon. Its eyes burned with infernal fire. Horns crowned its bestial head. On its brow was the mark of the Blood God.’

  As Hargrim spoke, a silence and a chill spread across the chamber. Felix began to have a terrible suspicion that he knew what the dwarf was describing. It was a creature that was hinted at in the old books he had read about the time of Chaos. It was indeed a creature worthy to be known as the Terror.

  ‘A Blutdrengrik,’ said Gotrek quietly.

  ‘The Bane of Grung,’ Varek mumbled, tugging nervously at his beard.

  ‘A Bloodthirster of Khorne,’ Felix whispered, and felt the cold hand of fear touch his spine. He had just named the deadliest, most violent and implacable creature ever to emerge from the nethermost pits of Hell. A daemon second only to the Dark God it served in its mythical powers of destruction. A being which even the mightiest would fear to face.

  ‘Let’s go and kill it,’ said Snorri.

  ‘Let’s have another drink first,’ Felix said, hoping to dissuade the Slayers from this foolish quest for as long as possible.

  Felix awoke with that same feeling of disorientation which he had become quite familiar with over the years. He was in a strange place, looking at a strange ceiling and he felt somewhat nauseous. It took him a few moments to get his rebellious mind and stomach under control and to work out where he was. When he managed to do so, he wished he had not.

  He was deep underground in a chamber in a ruined dwarf citadel, somewhere deep in the Chaos Wastes. And he had a hangover. Surely there were few worse fates that could befall a mortal man, he told himself. He pulled himself up off the sumptuous but rather fusty smelling and too short bed, pulled on his boots and strode out into the corridor to find something that would settle his stomach. As he did so, he was greeted by one of the king’s armoured guards who informed him that his presence was required in the throne room. Immediately.

  Felix realised that he had indeed found a worse fate. Not only was he stuck in this terrible place but he had to face an old and irascible dwarfish tyrant on an empty stomach. Stifling a groan he followed the guard.

  ‘We cannot leave this place,’ said King Thangrim Firebeard. ‘There are too many of us. According to what you have told me there is not enough room in your ship for more than an extra dozen people at most. There are several hundred of my people here. It would be unfair to chose some to go and some to stay.’

  Felix had to admit the old dwarf had a point. He had arrived in the ruler’s chamber only to find
the others already being grilled by the old despot. Apparently Varek had suggested that the people of Karag Dum should leave their ancestral home. Thangrim had raised a few cogent objections.

  ‘It would only be a temporary measure, your majesty,’ Varek said. ‘Once we had flown those people back to the Lonely Tower we could return with a skeleton crew and take more. We could continue to ferry them back until we had taken everyone. It is possible.’

  ‘Maybe. But you have told me that even flying across the Chaos Wastes is perilous. Perhaps your ship will crash.’

  ‘Surely, your majesty remaining here with the forces of Chaos pounding upon your doors is more perilous. It is only a matter of time before you are hunted down and destroyed.’ Varek was becoming impassioned and flustered. His eyes were large and round behind the lenses of his glasses.

  ‘You do not understand, youngling. We have here wives and wounded. We cannot simply abandon them or send them away with but a small escort. You know how perilous the halls are. You have seen them. It would take many warriors to guard them, and there is not enough room on your ship for them and the escort.’

  ‘The escort could return to your halls,’ Varek said. ‘They are warriors. They have done this before.’

  ‘Your point is a fair one but eventually we would have to move our ancestral hoards. These are no small treasures, and not a gold piece or trinket will I leave behind for the despoilers.’

  Felix spoke up for the first time. ‘But surely gold means nothing when the lives of your people are concerned, your majesty.’

  Every dwarf present looked at him as if he was either deranged or profoundly stupid. No one even bothered to answer him. Felix wished the floor would open up and swallow him. He should have known better than to try and make such a rational argument to dwarfs when gold was being discussed.

  ‘Could we carry away our father’s treasures on your one small ship?’ Thangrim asked.

  ‘From what I have heard about your hoard, may it ever grow and prosper, I doubt it.’

  ‘Then how can you expect us to leave this place while we have blood left in our veins?’

  ‘Perhaps we could return with more than one airship, great king,’ Varek said. ‘Perhaps we could return with enough craft to carry all your people and all your hoard.’

  ‘If you could, I would see that you were suitably rewarded. Let me think on what you have said. You may go.’

  Varek rose to go and Felix moved to join him. He felt a vague sense of relief at being about to leave the king’s presence – and at the prospect of getting some food.

  ‘Thangrim Firebeard,’ Gotrek said. ‘I crave a boon.’

  ‘Tell me what it is, Gotrek Gurnisson.’

  ‘I wish to seek out this creature you call the Terror, and either slay it or find my doom.’

  King Thangrim smiled down at Gotrek and appeared to consider his request.

  At that moment, however, a distant horn sounded. A few heartbeats later a dwarf raced through the entrance of the throne room and advanced at once to the king. Thangrim gestured for the messenger to come closer and then listened to his whispered words. When the new arrival had finished speaking, his face looked grim indeed.

  ‘It appears it will not be necessary for you to seek the monster out, Gotrek Gurnisson. It is coming here now – and it brings with it an army.’

  Wonderful, thought Felix, and I haven’t even had a chance to grab my last meal.

  NINETEEN

  BLOODTHIRSTER

  ‘The hordes of Chaos come again,’ King Thangrim said. ‘Sound the war-horns. We muster for battle.’

  The king raised himself from his throne and lifted his great warhammer up high. In that moment Felix could see a glittering aura like lightning playing around the head of the weapon. The air was filled with the smell of ozone.

  The king’s guard cheered heartily but Felix sensed a deep uneasiness behind their show of courage.

  ‘This is good,’ Gotrek said.

  This is very bad, thought Felix, contemplating the oncoming hordes of Chaos, led by a daemon of unspeakable power. He wondered how he could ever have thought things were bad when he got up this morning. All he had to worry about then was a hangover. Now he had much worse things to concern himself with.

  The king strode down the steps accompanied by his priests, and made his way out into the hall. His guards fell into step behind him. Outside in the Hall of the Well, dwarf folk were hastily assembling. Warriors rushed out of every entrance. Some buckled on shields and weapons. Others had breastplates half-strapped to their chests and were hastily tightening fastenings as they assembled. As Felix watched, he saw one old warrior jam a helmet onto his head, spit on the floor and make a few practice swipes with his axe. Seeing Felix looking at him, he gave him a thumbs-up sign.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Felix saw Hargrim assembling his tunnel fighters. They too were strapping on heavier dwarfish armour. It seemed that the time for stealth was over and now they wanted the heaviest protection they could get. Felix did not blame them. His own chainmail shirt suddenly seemed woefully inadequate when he remembered the vast mass of bestial warriors he had seen during the approach to Karag Dum, and when he thought of the legendary deadliness of the Bloodthirster.

  But what else was there to do but fight? He drew his own enchanted blade from the scabbard and strode over to where Hargrim stood. ‘How did they find us?’ he shouted to make himself heard over the din of dwarfs preparing for battle.

  ‘I know not. Perhaps they found the place where we killed its hounds. Mayhap others of his foul pack found our scent. What does it matter? It is the Prophecy. The Last Day is upon us.’

  ‘Try not to be so cheerful,’ Felix said, and glanced around to see where Gotrek, Snorri and Varek were. He could see the Slayers standing near the king. Varek was nowhere to be seen. Felix wondered where he had gone. He realised that whatever happened in this battle, his place was beside his companions. If nothing else, he knew he had no chance of finding his way out of these halls on his own. Any of the others could probably manage it blindfolded.

  On the other hand, he was probably being far too optimistic imagining there would be any chance of escape whatsoever. Snorri and Gotrek would never leave while the Bloodthirster was present, but he doubted that even those two formidable warriors could prevail over so mighty a daemon.

  ‘Good luck!’ he shouted to Hargrim and raced over to where the Slayers stood.

  ‘May Grungni, Grimnir and Valaya watch over you, Felix Jaeger,’ Hargrim said and returned to bellowing orders to his troops.

  Now from out of the access tunnels came the sounds of battle: the brash echo of horns, the clash of weapons, and the bellowing of something hideous echoed down the corridors. The dwarfs had finished their dispositions and their line of battle was drawn up across the Well Hall. There were certainly more dwarfs here than had defended the Lonely Tower, but that was not a reassuring thought. Compared to the numbers their attackers could summon, they were pitifully few.

  Felix looked up to where King Thangrim stood, carried on a shield held by four bearers. ‘They have breached the outer gate,’ said the king. ‘Our sentries will hold them for a while.’

  Looking beyond Thangrim, Felix could see that the women and those too aged and wounded to fight were disappearing through an entrance he had not seen before. Once the last one had gone through, the doorway was sealed behind them, and it was done so cunningly that no sign of the hidden exit remained.

  ‘They go to the vaults with our hoard, to wait out the final battle,’ Thangrim said. ‘If we are victorious they will be freed. If not, they die.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘The vaults can only be opened from the outside,’ Gotrek said. Felix was suddenly glad he had not tried to flee through those doors. He could think of nothing worse than huddling in the gloomy vaults, waiting to die of suffocation or starvation while the battle raged outside. At least out here, he would have some control over his fate, and when d
eath came it would be quick. He hoped.

  He could see Varek returning now. The young dwarf had Makaisson’s gun strapped to his chest and carried a bag full of bombs. He moved with a purposefulness that Felix had never seen in him before as he raced up and came to a stop beside Felix.

  ‘Hold this for a moment,’ Varek said to Felix and handed him the gun. Felix sheathed his sword and took it, surprised by how heavy it was, and by the ease with which Varek had handled it. Varek produced his book and pen, and began to inscribe a few notes on its pages. Seeing Felix’s astonished look, he said: ‘Just a last explanation. In case someone comes upon this later. Well, we can but hope, eh?’

  Felix forced himself to smile, but it came out shakily. ‘I suppose so.’

  In the distance the clamour reached a peak and then there was a bestial roar of triumph. Felix guessed things had not gone well for the dwarf sentries.

  Thangrim had started to shout in dwarfish. Felix could not understand a word he was bellowing but the dwarfs seemed to like it. They cheered him mightily, even Gotrek and Snorri. Only Varek did not add his voice to the resounding chorus, for he was too busy writing.

  Felix kept his eyes glued to the doorway through which he knew their foes would come. He knew that several hundred crossbow-toting dwarfs were doing the same thing. But still this did not reassure him. He had an oppressive sense of approaching doom. Fear gripped his heart. A shadow lay on his soul. He knew that something terrible was approaching.

  ‘Bet Snorri kills more beastmen than you, Gotrek,’ said Snorri.

  Gotrek grunted derisively. ‘The manling will kill more beastmen than you,’ Gotrek replied.

  ‘Want to bet on that, Felix?’ Snorri asked.

  Felix shook his head. His mouth was too dry for him to form a response. Terror had started to take root in his mind, a paralysing fear that shook the foundations of his sanity and made him want to find a dark corner in which to hide himself and whimper. Part of his mind told him that this was unnatural, that he should not feel such fear, but it was still hard to fight against it. There was something in that hideous roaring that turned his blood to water.