by William King
“So what are you doing on this craft?” he asked, just for something to say. She gave him a glance of languid amusement, as if she could read his thoughts exactly.
“I am travelling home to my father’s estates.”
“I cannot imagine Borek simply letting somebody on to this ship as a passenger for no reason.”
She raised her right hand to her mouth and stroked her lip with its forefinger. Felix could see the fingers were callused like a swordsman’s, the nails pared very short. “My father and Borek are old friends. They fought together on many occasions in my father’s youth. He helped guide Borek’s last expedition to the edge of the Wastes. He looked after him and your friend Gotrek when they staggered back with the survivors. He was not surprised. He had warned them not to go. They would not listen.”
Felix stared at her. He had not imagined that any humans had been involved in that last expedition. That does not surprise me,” Felix said ruefully. He possessed considerable experience of just how stubborn dwarfs could be.
“Some things about it surprised even my father. He had not expected anybody to return from that doomed mission. Few indeed, save the followers of Chaos, ever do.”
“How long ago was this mission?”
“Before I was born. Over twenty winters ago.”
They have waited a long time to go back then.”
“So it would seem. It also seems that they have prepared well. Indeed it was a message from my father to say that he had done what they asked which brought me to Middenheim.”
“What do you mean?”
“Borek asked my father to make certain preparations on our estate. To collect the black water. To build a tower. To stockpile certain supplies. At the time, they did not make sense, but now that I have seen this ship I think I understand.”
The dwarfs have built a base, a way-station, on your father’s land.”
“Aye. And paid for it in good dwarfish steel.”
Seeing Felix’s quizzical look she smiled at him, and unsheathed one of her swords, pulling it part way from its scabbard. Felix noticed dwarf runes along the blade. “We have little use for gold along the Marches of Chaos. Weapons suit us better and the dwarfs are the finest armourers in the world.”
“You came a long way from Kislev to Middenheim. That is far for a beautiful young woman travelling on her own.”
“Better, Herr Jaeger! I had despaired of ever getting a compliment from you. Men are more forward about such things in Kislev.”
“Women too, it seems,” Felix said in mild surprise.
“Life is short and winter is long, as they say.”
“What does that mean?”
“Are you so obtuse?”
Felix could not help but feel that this conversation was moving out of his control. He had never quite met a woman like this Kislevite before and he wasn’t sure he liked it. Imperial women did not behave in quite this way, except perhaps for camp followers and tavern girls, and Ulrika Magdova certainly did not have the manner of either. Or perhaps, he was simply misunderstanding her manner. Maybe this was just the way women behaved in Kislev.
She spoke to fill the silence. “I did not travel to Middenheim on my own—although I could have. I came with a bodyguard of my father’s lancers. They departed northward and I waited to return with Borek.”
For the first time, she did not meet his gaze. He sensed that she was hiding something and he was not sure what. Certainly there was more going on here than met the eye. Also, for the first time, he started to suspect that she was not quite as confident as her beauty and her boldness had led him to believe. That suddenly made her more approachable and, in a way, more attractive. He smiled at her again and she smiled back, a little ruefully this time. Then she glanced over his shoulder, smoothed her britches with both her hands, and rose to her feet, all the while keeping him fixed with that dazzling smile.
Felix looked over in the direction of her gaze and saw that their other passenger, the sorcerer, had just entered the bridge area. He was looking at them in a puzzled, and Felix thought, perhaps resentful manner. If that was the case, he soon regained control of himself. A look of languid amusement passed over his lean handsome features and he advanced into the room. Ulrika Magdova sauntered past him, pausing only to give him a mildly disdainful glance.
“Good day, Herr Schreiber. A pleasure talking to you, Felix.”
“Good day,” Felix said weakly, rising just as she vanished from view. The magician threw himself down in the chair she had left.
“So,” he said, “you’ve met the fair Ulrika. What do you think, eh?”
It was an impertinent question from a complete stranger, thought Felix, but then he had heard magicians could be somewhat odd. Then he noticed that the man was smiling and shaking his head like someone enjoying a private joke. White teeth showed against his tanned skin, the animated expression taking years off the wizard’s age. Felix guessed that the mage could not be more than ten years older than himself. Suddenly, impulsively, the man stuck out his hand.
“Maximilian Schreiber, at your service. My friends call me Max.”
“Felix Jaeger at yours.”
“Felix Jaeger. That’s a name I’ve heard before. There was quite a promising poet of that name. Are you any relation? I read some of his verses in Gottlieb’s anthology several years before. Rather liked them, actually.”
Felix was pleasantly surprised to find that the stranger had heard of him. He cast his mind back to his student days when he had written verse and contributed to various anthologies. That all seemed to have happened to someone else, a long time ago.
“I wrote those,” he said.
“Excellent. A pleasant surprise. Why did you stop writing? Gottlieb’s chapbook must be at least three years ago.”
“I ran into some problems with the law.”
“What were those?”
Something about the mage’s smooth manner was starting to set Felix’s teeth on edge. “I was expelled from the university for killing a man in a duel. Then there were the Window Tax Riots.”
“Oh yes, the riots. So, in addition to being the poet Felix Jaeger, you are also the notorious outlaw Felix Jaeger, henchman to the infamous Gotrek Gurnisson.”
Felix went white with shock. It had been a long time since he had encountered anyone who had put those two facts together or even known he was an outlaw. The Empire was big and news travelled very slowly. It had been such a long time since he had been anywhere near Altdorf, the scene of that terrible slaughter during the riots. The wizard obviously noticed his expression. His smile became a grin.
“Don’t worry. I am not about to turn you over to the law. I always thought it was an unjust and foolish tax myself. And to tell the truth, I sympathise with your predicament at the university. I was booted out of the Imperial College of Magicians myself, albeit a few years before you began your career of insurrection.”
“You were?”
“Oh yes. My tutors believed that I showed an unhealthy interest in the subject of Chaos.”
“I would have to agree with them, I think. It’s a subject in which any interest is unhealthy.”
A gleam had come into the wizard’s eyes and he leaned forward eagerly in his seat. “I cannot believe that you think that way, Herr Jaeger. That’s the kind of short-sightedness I would expert from the wizened greybeards at the college but not from an adventurer like yourself.”
Felix felt compelled to defend his point of view.
“I believe I know something of the subject. I have had more experience of fighting Chaos than most.”
“Exactly! I, too, have fought against the Dark Powers, my friend, and I have found its minions in some unlikely places. I do not think that I am wrong when I say that it is the greatest single threat to our nation, nay, our world, that currently exists.”
“I would agree with you there.”
“And that being the case, can it be wrong to study the subject? In order to fight such a powerful foe
we must understand it. We must know its strengths and its weaknesses, its goals and its fears.”
“Yes, but the study of Chaos corrupts those who engage in it! Many have started down that path with the finest of intentions, only to find themselves enthralled by that thing they sought to fight.”
“Now you really do sound like my old tutors! Has it occurred to you that, if you were a servant of Chaos, you would use exactly that argument to discourage any investigation into your works?”
“You’re not seriously suggesting that your tutors at the Imperial College were—”
“Of course not! I am just saying that the servants of Chaos are subtle. You have no idea how subtle they can be. All they would need to do was put the idea into books, spread the rumour, encourage its belief. And, of course, Chaos does corrupt. If you work with warpstone, it will change you. If you perform dark rituals, your soul will be tarnished. I admit there is some truth to this line of argument. However, I don’t think that this should stop us from examining Chaos, trying to find ways to prevent its spread, to detect its followers, to blunt its terrifying power. There is a conspiracy of silence which permeates our entire society. It encourages ignorance. It gives our enemies shadows in which to hide, places in which to lurk and plot.”
Felix had to admit there was something in what Schreiber was saying. To tell the truth, he had often had similar thoughts himself. You might be right.”
“Might be? Come now, Felix, you know I am right. And so do many other people. Unfortunately, I made the mistake of publishing my opinions in a small pamphlet. The authorities decided that it was heretical and…”
“You too became an outlaw.”
“That more or less sums it up.”
“Why are you aboard this ship?”
“Because I continued my researches. I moved from place to place fighting against Chaos where I could, compiling information when I found it, hunting down wicked sorcerers. I have made myself into something of an expert on this subject, and in the end found a refuge at the court of Count Stephan. He is more far-sighted than many of our nobles.
“He and the Knights of the White Wolf have helped fund my researches. Five years ago I met your friend Borek when he visited the library in the temple. He was most interested when he found out that I believed I had found a way to protect against the worst affects of Chaos. He enlisted me to help protect his airship on its voyage.”
Suddenly Felix began to understand the scale of the planning which had gone into their quest. It was of an order of magnitude that he had never encountered before. Not only had Borek overseen the building of the vast industrial complex at the Lonely Tower, he had employed Ulrika’s father to build an advance base and discovered and engaged this wizard to ward them against Chaos. The old dwarf had not been exaggerating when he claimed this was his life’s work. Felix began to wonder what other feats of planning would be revealed as the trip progressed. Still, he was not entirely convinced by Schreiber’s claims.
“You have found a way of protecting this airship against the effects of Chaos?”
There are a number of them ranging from simple runes, to protective enchantments, to basic precautions such as ensuring an adequate supply of uncontaminated food and water. Believe me, Felix, I would not have agreed to aid you unless I believed that there was a good chance you would be safe.”
“You are not coming with us then?”
“Only to Kislev. Not all the way to Karag Dum.”
Felix looked at the wizard in surprise.
“I told you, Felix, I am a scholar. This is my field. I have studied all I could find on this subject. I was quite capable of working out for myself why an expedition of this magnitude is being prepared by a dwarf like Borek. It came as no surprise to me when he told me his goal.”
Schreiber rose from the chair. “Speaking of that long-bearded scholar, I must go and discuss some things with him now. But I hope to have a chance to talk more with you before this voyage is complete.”
He bowed and walked away, but at the doorway he turned. “I’m glad there is an educated man aboard. I thought I might have to spend this voyage simply chasing the delectable Ulrika. It will be nice to have some enlightened conversation as well.”
Felix wasn’t sure why he found this remark so offensive. Perhaps, he told himself, he was simply jealous. And then he wondered, why did he already feel that way about a woman he had only just met?
TEN
KISLEV
Thanquol’s palanquin hustled northward along the great tunnel of the Underways. This section of the mighty road that ran beneath the spine of the World’s Edge Mountains was almost totally empty. Normally Thanquol would have been nervous, travelling these dangerous corridors with his much reduced bodyguard. He could easily be attacked by ores, goblins or dwarfish raiding parties, trying to reclaim some part of their ancient domain. However, at this moment, the grey seer was too upset to be nervous.
He gnawed his tail in despair. He knew from his lackey, Lurk, that the airship had departed from Middenheim and headed north-eastwards. The snivelling wretch had managed to report that they had passed over water, before making landfall again, and that the land below them was starting to look emptier and bleaker all the time. Fortunately for Thanquol, he was a far-travelled skaven of considerable knowledge, and he recognised that the airship’s destination could only be the land known to humans as Kislev.
He had no idea what those foolish dwarfs could possibly want in that barbarous place. Perhaps they had heard rumours of gold or ancient treasure. Although dwarfs were not the race he had made his deepest studies of, Thanquol knew enough about them to guess that this was their most likely goal. Unfortunately he had no idea where this might eventually take them, and he also knew that the airship had travelled much further and much faster than he was capable of pursuing by normal means.
He was almost tempted to order Lurk to find some means of sabotaging the airship to give him time to catch up. Only one thing prevented him from doing this. In his considerable experience, a doltish lackey like Lurk would do something wrong and either get himself killed or destroy the very airship that Thanquol so desperately wanted to possess. No—giving such an order was the option of last resort, and Thanquol decided that he would have to be desperate indeed to try it. Before then, he would exhaust every other avenue open to him.
He considered his options. Perhaps he could contact the Lords of Clan Moulder. Their mighty fortress, Hell Pit, was located in northern Kislev and was the nearest skaven stronghold to the airship’s probable destination. To a lesser intellect than Thanquol’s, this might have seemed like a wise plan. Potent as he undoubtedly was, even the grey seer was forced to admit capturing the airship single-pawed was almost certainly beyond him. He was going to need help, even if it meant going with downcast tail to the Beastmasters of Clan Moulder. But the thought had also occurred to him that it might not be wise to give them all the details of his scheme, for they might try to seize the airship by themselves. Being the blundering fools they were, they too would doubtless fail without his guidance.
No, he decided, the best he could do was to scurry north as quickly as possible and hope that something would arise to delay the dwarfs until his arrival. He leaned out the palanquin’s window and chittered at his bearers to redouble their efforts. Fearing their master’s righteous wrath, they scuttled along more quickly, groaning beneath the weight of their burden and all his sorcerous equipment.
Felix had always thought of Kislev as a land of ice and snow, where winter never lifted, and the folk wandered around constantly wrapped in furs. The land below contradicted this impression quite mightily. It consisted of rolling plains of long grass set amidst thick forests of pine. A moment’s consideration told him that this had to be so, for Kislev was a land famed for its horsemen, and it would be difficult for them to be that way if they lived amid endless snowdrifts.
Felix had to admit that, if anything, the sun shone even more brightly than it did on the E
mpire at the moment. The Kislevite summer might be brief but it was also intense. Felix wondered if this, too, was part of Borek’s plan, to come northward before the stormy winds of winter could threaten the airship’s progress. It would not have surprised him to discover that this was the case. The ingenuity and skill with which this expedition had been planned was a far cry from his haphazard wanderings with Gotrek. During their travels they had simply decided to go as the whim took them, with only whatever they happened to be carrying at the time to aid them. Obviously this was not typical dwarfish behaviour, except perhaps where Slayers were concerned.
Below the airship he could see a herd of caribou, startled by the airship’s vast shadow, begin to bound away. Hunters rose from their crouches and shaded their eyes to peer up in wonder at the passing vehicle. One of them, braver or more frightened than the rest, cast his spear up at them but it fell a long way short of the vessel and fell point first to stand quivering amidst the long grass.
They were flying beneath the clouds for a good reason. Watchers peered from every porthole and through the large windows of the command deck. They were nearing their destination and all of them had been ordered to keep their eyes peeled for Ulrika’s father’s mansion. Makaisson’s navigation had brought them to the general area. Now they quartered the landscape seeking the exact spot where they would make their final landfall before heading into the Chaos Wastes.
So far all they had seen was the occasional hunter and the odd village where smoke drifted lazily skyward from holes in the turfed roofs of the peasants’ log huts. Their presence had sent the villagers scurrying away from their harvests to huddle within the village walls, doubtless convinced that the airship was some new manifestation of Chaos come to trouble their land.
