by William King
“I can’t shift it!” he called.
“ ’Tis the wind on the ailerons, laddie. It’s fightin’ ye. Keep tryin’. Dinna gae up!”
Felix kept tugging and still nothing happened. He knew they must be mere seconds from disaster and still there was nothing he could do. He offered up a prayer to Sigmar for his soul, knowing that his life was about to end here in the Chaos Wastes. Then suddenly Gotrek was beside him, lending his massive strength to the struggle with the lever. And still it did not move.
Gotrek’s beard bristled. The veins stood out on his forehead, and then something gave way. At first Felix feared that they had simply bent the stick out of shape but no, it was moving slowly, surely, inexorably backwards. As it did so, the nose of airship tilted skywards. Then it seemed like the airship was being thrown backwards like a galleon caught by a huge breaker. The deck rocked and he and Gotrek lost their footing, and were sent tumbling backwards towards the rear cabin wall. There was a sickening sensation in Felix’s churning innards as the airship began to leap uncontrollably skyward and then was dashed downwards again.
“Hold on tight!” bellowed Makaisson. “This is gannae be rough!”
Lurk squirted the musk of fear. He felt his glands void until they were empty and still they tried to keep on spurting. The wind tugged at his pelt, riffling it with a thousand demon fingers.
Glittering warpstone dust filled his mouth and threatened to choke him. He had already swallowed a fair amount of the stuff and a warm glow filled his stomach. His fur stood on end. The roar of thunder almost deafened him. Tears filled his eyes from fear and constant irritation of the onrushing wind. He clutched the rails of the crow’s nest with all four paws; his tail was looped round the rails to anchor him in place. He fought to keep himself low within the observation post, yet still the wind threatened to tear him from his place and send him tumbling to his doom. It was almost too much to be borne.
He cursed the day he had ever left his nice warm burrow in Skavenblight. He cursed Grey Seer Thanquol for his stupid orders. He cursed the stupid dwarfs and their stupid airship and their stupid journey. He cursed everyone and everything he could think of—except the Horned Rat, towards whom he remembered to send the occasional prayer for his deliverance.
Only a few minutes ago it had all seemed so quiet. He had climbed from his hiding place in the hold up to the crow’s nest to make his daily report to Grey Seer Thanquol. The ship had been vibrating a little but Lurk had become used to its little motions and had paid no attention. But by the time he had reached the observation deck, the movements had become larger, the whole ship was bucking in the air like a crazed horse. But it was only when he had poked his snout through the upper hatch into the crow’s nest proper that he noticed that the ship was surrounded by the strangely glowing cloud and its bizarre, multi-coloured lightning flashes.
Sound skaven prudence had told him that he should retreat below but he had been held in place by one thing: the tingling taste of warpstone dust on his tongue. It held him in place, fascinated. It was the source of much of the grey seer’s much-feared power, and quite possibly the source of all magic. He had thought that maybe if he tasted some he, too, might acquire magical powers, but so far there had been no sign of them. By the time he had tried to return below, the accursed dwarfs had sealed the hatches and there was no way he could open them from above. They were locked.
In frantic fear he had scrambled around inside the gasbag but the strangely shifting balloons had spooked him and he had grown tired of hanging from the ladder. So he had clambered back up to the crow’s nest and there the wind had grabbed him. He had only just been able to save himself by seizing the railings and now there was nothing he could do except wait and pray while the airship rocked below him like a raft in a typhoon.
Another series of thunderclaps made Lurk look up. He saw a series of lightning flashes marching across the sky, coming ever closer. Their unholy brilliance dazzled him. He shut his eyes firmly but he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that they were about to hit the airship.
He remembered to send a final curse in the general direction of Grey Seer Thanquol.
Felix, too, saw the line of lightning bolts exploding directly in front of the airship. Makaisson twisted the wheel instinctively trying to avoid being hit, but it was too late. The greenish bolts pummelled the airship. In the instant before the tremendous glare blinded him, Felix had time to notice that the gems on the ship’s figurehead blazed bright as the sun. Then the ship shook as if it was about to fly apart and for a long moment Felix saw no more. For a heartbeat the terrible fear that he had been blinded filled him but it passed as his vision slowly returned, and he noticed that everything in the command deck was surrounded by a swiftly fading halo of green.
The amulet on his chest felt almost hot enough to burn and he felt like ripping it off until the thought struck him that this might not be wise, and that perhaps it was protecting him from the magic of Chaos which had so obviously been contained within the lightning. He saw that the amulet on Gotrek’s bare chest was glowing a furious green as it absorbed the halo about him. Then suddenly the ship stopped shaking and the sky around them was clear.
Felix picked himself up and limped over to the window of the command deck. He could still see the green-black clouds of the warpstorm boiling below them. Occasionally the clouds would flash brightly with a glow of witch-light as the lightning sparked again and again. It was like looking down on a peculiar chaotic sea and Felix half-expected to see some enormous monster rise up out of its depths and try and swallow the airship in its jaws.
It took him a few moments to realise that the drone of the engines had changed. The sound slowly died away, until they made no noise at all. The clouds slowly passed beyond the airship. It began to gently rotate this way and that in the breeze.
“We’ve lost power,” Makaisson muttered. “This isnae guid.”
Snorri chose that moment to appear in the cabin. He was yawning widely. “What was all the noise?” he asked. “It woke Snorri up.”
FOURTEEN
THE RUINED CITY
Felix listened unhappily as the engineers reported back to the command deck in turn, each bearing a tale of woe. It appeared that the warpstorm had caused a great deal of damage. There were rips in the gasbag, the engines had stopped working properly, the rotor blades were bent out of shape and there was some structural damage besides.
“We’ll joost hae tae stop fur repairs,” Makaisson announced calmly. Looking down through the windows Felix wished he shared the dwarfs confidence. The storm had finally cleared and the sky was its usual overcast mixture of strangely coloured clouds.
Below them lay the ruins of an enormous city, with not a soul visible in the streets. Such desolation was eerie. The wind whistled mournfully as it stirred the shifting sands which drifted through the abandoned buildings.
Then Felix heard a much more cheering sound: somebody, somewhere had managed to get one of the engines working. Gleefully Makaisson took control of his craft again. He nursed the airship down until it was only a hundred strides above the buildings.
“We’ll moor here. Draup they lines.”
Mooring lines dropped. Felix saw the grapnel hooks on the end of one snag on a tumbled stone wall. It was enough to hold the drifting airship in place.
“Right, get doon there and secure they hooks! I’ll try tae haud her steady up here.”
“Wait,” Felix said. “It might be dangerous.”
“Och, yer right, laddie. Gotrek, Snorri, Felix, off ye go and make sure that there’s nae wee beastmen lurkin’ aboot doon there.” Felix wished that he hadn’t opened his mouth.
From the ground the ruins looked even more vast and forbidding than they had from the air. The buildings seemed immeasurably ancient. Huge blocks of stone had been placed atop of each other without the use of mortar. Originally their weight and the precision with which they had been positioned held them in place. It was a style that Felix had seen only onc
e before—in the ruins he had seen above the ancient underground dwarfhold of Karak Eight Peaks. He said this out loud.
This isn’t dwarfish workmanship, manling,” Gotrek sneered. His voice was muffled by the scarf he had wrapped round the lower part of his face to keep out any warpstone dust that might be in the air. Both Snorri and Felix had done the same thing. It seemed descending into madness and mutation did not fit in with the Slayer ideal of a heroic doom. “Looks like it. Maybe it was copied or perhaps the builders had dwarf advisors but this was not dwarfish work. Stonework is shoddy. The alignment is less than perfect.”
Felix shrugged. His mail shirt felt heavy on his shoulders but he was glad it was there. In this strange place, the more armour he had the better. Right now he wouldn’t have minded a complete suit of plate mail. He glanced around him. The street on which they stood was paved with huge flagstones. On each stone was inscribed an outlandish rune. The wind whispered eerily through the desolation. It was cold and he had the uncanny feeling of being watched.
“I have never heard of any human cities this far north, and it does not look like elvish work.”
“Elvish work!” Gotrek said contemptuously. “A contradiction in terms: elves don’t work.”
“I doubt this was built by beastmen or the warriors of Chaos. It seems too sophisticated for them, and it looks very ancient.”
“Looks can be deceiving here in the Chaos Wastes.”
“What do you mean?”
“There are all manner of illusions and mirages, and it is said that deep in the Wastes, the Great Powers of Chaos can create and destroy things at their whim.”
“Then we’d best hope that we are not so deep in the Wastes.”
“Aye.”
An eerie wailing call echoed through the ruins, like the shriek of a soul in torment or the cry of a mad thing wandering lost and forlorn through an endless wilderness. Felix span around and ripped his sword from its scabbard.
“What was that?” he asked.
“I do not know, manling, but doubtless we will find out if it comes closer.”
“Snorri hopes it does!” said the Slayer almost cheerily.
Felix glanced at the rope ladder hanging from the airship’s side. He had not enjoyed clambering down it, and he did not look forward to the prospect of climbing up it again, but it was good to know that it was there, just in case they needed to beat a swift retreat. The bizarre call sounded again, closer now, but it was hard to tell exactly.
With the echoes in these ruins it could be coming from leagues away. Felix consoled himself with the. thought that at least it had not been answered. He fingered the amulet on his chest, but it gave no sense of warmth. Perhaps there was no Dark Magic at work here; perhaps it had become overloaded in the warpstorm. He had noticed that none of the gems on the airship’s sides were glowing now. That might mean something good or it might mean something bad. Felix did not know enough about magic to be able to tell.
Varek was gesturing them from the opening above. He seemed to want to know whether they were about to secure the airship. Felix shook his head, trying to indicate that the folk above should do nothing till they had ascertained what was making this hideous racket.
“Should we investigate the shrieking?” Felix asked.
“Good idea, manling,” Gotrek said nastily. “Let’s go wandering through these ruins and see how far we can get from the airship. Maybe we should split up too. That way we can cover more ground!”
“It was just a suggestion,” Felix said. There’s no need to be sarcastic.”
“It sounded like a good plan to Snorri,” the other Slayer said.
Just then, from amidst the ruins, a figure limped into view. It looked like a human but it was so filthy, ragged and unkempt that Felix wasn’t sure if this was the case. Around him he sensed a change in the attitude of Snorri and Gotrek. Without them visibly changing position, they seemed to become more wary, ready to strike out in any direction at a moment’s notice.
Felix heard a clinking from behind them, and turned his head momentarily to see that the grapnel at the end of mooring line had come loose. The airship was drifting free on the breeze. The vessel’s engines chose that moment to sputter and die. He cursed silently to himself as the rope ladder rose out of his reach, then he turned his head and forced himself to concentrate once more on the advancing figure.
He could see that it was indeed a man. He walked in a shuffling crouch. His hair was so long that it reached his waist. His beard was filthy and dragged almost to the ground. Weeping sores covered his hands and arms where they were exposed. He limped wearily up to where they stood and let out another long wail. He was leaning on a staff that looked like it had been made by lashing together a number of human bones with sinew. A blank-eyed skull glared from its tip.
Felix stared at the man, and met a gaze full of melancholy madness.
“Begone from my city or I will feed you to my beasts,” the stranger said eventually. He fingered one of the many verdigrised copper amulets which hung from a chain around his neck. Felix could see that it had been carved into the likeness of a screaming skull.
“What beasts?” said Gotrek.
“Snorri thinks you’re a nutter,” Snorri said.
Listen to who’s talking, thought Felix.
“The beasts which fear and worship me,” the man said. The creatures to whom I am a god.”
Felix looked at the man and felt a surge of fear, knowing that he was mad. On the other hand, he did not want to simply slay the man out of hand just because he was mad. He had obviously been here for some time and it occurred to Felix that the man might have useful knowledge. He thought he had nothing to lose by humouring this lunatic.
“What is your name, oh mighty one?” Felix asked, hoping the others would have wit enough to play along with him. It was, he knew, most likely a forlorn hope but he thought he might as well try. The stranger appeared to consider this for a moment.
“Hans, Hans Muller—but you can call me the divine one.”
“And what are you doing here, Divine One?” Felix asked softly. “You’re a long way from anywhere.”
“I got lost.”
“Take a wrong turning back in Kislev, did you?” Gotrek asked sarcastically. Felix saw that the Slayer’s axe was held ready to strike. There was a faint glow along the runes of the blade. This was usually a very bad sign.
“No, short one. I am a magician. I was experimenting with certain spells of translocation and something went wrong. I ended up here.”
“Short one?” Gotrek said, a note of menace in his voice.
“Translocation?” Felix asked hastily. The fact that the man was a wizard was not making him feel any easier. He had never much cared for sorcerers, having had several bad experiences with them.
“A method of moving between two points without traversing the lands in between. My theories were at least partially correct. I moved. Fortunately I moved too far and ended up here where the natives recognise my godhood.”
“Tell us, oh Divine One, what do you know of Karag Dum?” Felix asked.
“The great daemon has returned there,” Muller said instantly.
At the mention of daemons, Felix shuddered. In the Chaos Wastes it seemed all too likely that such sinister entities could be present.
“Daemon?”
“The daemon told of in the Prophesy. The Great Destroyer. It awaits only the coming of the Axe Bearer to fulfil its prophesy and its destiny!”
“Tell us more,” Felix said, shuddering.
Seeing Felix’s reaction, a strange, furtive look came into the mage’s eye. He licked his lips with the tip of a thin pinkish tongue. He looked twisted and cunning and suddenly Felix did not trust him at all.
“My beasts must be fed,” the mage said, then made a strange gesture. His hand moved through the air and seemed to gather oddly glowing energies to it. A shimmering sphere of light suddenly surrounded his hand. Even as he made to cast it, Gotrek’s axe flashed and
severed the hand at the wrist. The sphere of light fell from Muller’s outstretched fingers and hit the ground. There was an explosion. A blast of warm air passed over Felix. His flesh tingled and he felt an odd dizziness.
In a moment he had recovered and the flashing before his eyes calmed down. He was grateful to see that Gotrek and Snorri were still there too, although the wizard had vanished.
That was not a very destructive spell,” Felix said. “He could not exactly have been a powerful wizard.”
“I’m not so sure, manling,” Gotrek said.
“What do you mean?”
“Take a look around.”
Felix did so. The first thing he noticed was that the airship was gone. Then he noticed the roof, the walls, and the peculiar patterns arrayed on the flagstoned floor.
“Next time we meet a sorcerer, manling,” said Gotrek, “let’s kill him first and ask questions later.”
* * * * *
They stood in an oddly shaped chamber, in the centre of a large pentagram. At each point of the pentagram was a human skull and within each skull something glowed. A greenish light leaked from the eye-socket of every skull. Overhead was a massive stone roof. The walls of the chamber were carved from the same stones as the rest of the city. Odd-looking luminous moss grew in the cracks between blocks.
“Where are we?” whispered Felix. There was something about the atmosphere of this place which made him want to be extremely quiet. An aura of watchfulness, a sense of something old and evil waiting for something to happen. His words echoed away. Under the shadows of the roof something rustled and stirred and Felix sincerely hoped that it was only bats.
“Snorri has no idea,” said Snorri loudly. “Somewhere underground, maybe.”
“Let us go and find out” said Gotrek, striding towards the edge of the pentagram. As he did so, the chalked lines on the floor began to gleam brightly. The hair on the back of Felix’s neck stood on end.
