by Warhammer
Haschke looked crushed.
Ilgner turned to Kat. ‘Kat, if you’re well, I’d have you as scout.’
‘Of course, sir,’ she said.
Ortwin stepped forwards, then went down on one knee. ‘My lord Ilgner, my friends and I have vowed to discover the fate of the Templars of the Fiery Heart. We would be most grateful to be allowed to join you as you go north, and seek our answers there.’
Ilgner raised his eyebrows, seemingly amused at the boy’s formality. He turned to Kat. ‘And do you vouch for these noble seekers, scout?’
‘Aye, my lord,’ she said, her eyes bright. ‘They are the finest warriors and bravest, most honourable friends I have ever known. And the boy can fight too.’
Ortwin glared at her as Ilgner grinned.
‘Well then,’ he said. ‘It seems we’d better have them, hadn’t we?’
After they left Lord Ilgner, the companions split up. Felix got a bucket of hot water from the cook and scrubbed himself clean behind the barracks, then went to the place that Haschke had found for them – a second-floor room in a half-demolished tower – and had a short nap, for it had been a gruelling trip from Bauholz.
He was plagued by dreams of skulking forms moving in shadows, and his father screaming curses as clawed hands ripped at his flesh. But his curses weren’t directed at his torturers, but at Felix, who looked in at the window and shrank back as his father’s bleeding eyes turned accusingly towards him, as he jerked at the bell rope by his bed, futilely ringing for help that would never come.
Felix woke to the jangling clang of a distant dinner bell and the smell of boiled cabbage. It was not the most appetising odour in the world, but it was a relief after the horrors of his nightmare. The dream lingered unpleasantly as he pulled his boots on, and he could still feel his father’s eyes glaring at him as he started down to the dining hall, silently demanding to know why he had taken Sir Teobalt’s quest and abandoned the vengeance that he was owed.
As he was crossing the muddy courtyard, Felix saw Kat standing by the kitchen door with a woman in an apron. The woman was looking down, her shoulders slumped, and Kat held one of her hands, patting it awkwardly. Felix slowed, struck by the seeming sadness of the scene. What had happened, he wondered? He realised he was staring and made to continue – he didn’t want to intrude on someone else’s misery – but then he saw Kat step back and say some final word to the woman, and he paused again. The woman nodded at Kat’s words, but didn’t look up, and after an awkward moment, Kat turned and walked away, her head down too.
Felix hesitated between withdrawing and going to her, and in that instant she looked up and saw him. She paused for a moment, then dropped her head again and continued towards him.
‘Hello, Felix,’ she said, not slowing as she reached him.
‘Are you all right, Kat?’ he asked. ‘Who was that woman?’
Kat paused, then continued around him towards the dining hall, still not looking up. ‘Neff’s wife, Elfreda,’ she said. ‘She bakes our bread. I… I told her–’ Her words cut off short and she broke into a sudden trot. ‘Ex… excuse me.’
‘Kat!’ Felix hurried after her and caught her by the elbow.
She struggled for a moment, but when he turned her around she fell against his chest, knocking her forehead on his breastbone and sobbing silently. Felix wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. She clung to him, the front of his jerkin balled in her fists as her tears soaked the cloth.
‘I’m sorry, Felix,’ she mumpfed. ‘It’s only… only…’ and then she was off again.
Felix patted her back and shushed her gently, marvelling again at her contrasts – so savage in battle, so sure of herself in the wild, so courageous in the face of death, and yet still so human beneath it all.
She head-butted his chest, angry. ‘Why can I look at Neff’s corpse without a tear, but when I go to tell ’Freda…’ She sobbed again.
Felix stroked her filthy hair and decided not to remind her that she had cried then, if only silently. Instead he said, ‘I suppose it’s because the dead are past suffering. It is those who survive them who feel the pain of death.’
She nodded, still weeping. ‘She wanted him to go south before winter locked them in, but he… but he was too loyal to Ilgner. He wouldn’t go! Poor ’Freda.’
There were fresh sobs after that. Felix let her cry herself out, wrapping her in his red Sudenland cloak and looking sadly down at the top of her head. She weeps here because it is safe, he thought. In the Drakwald there is no room for tears. She has to be alert and on guard at all times. Emotion would kill her, so she saves it up until she is out from under the trees. He was oddly pleased that she felt safe enough in his arms to let herself go like this.
After a while her sobs subsided and she lay against him, sniffing. Finally she raised her head and looked up at him with a lopsided smile.
‘I’m sorry, Felix,’ she said. ‘I think… I think I’ve ruined your jerkin.’
He chuckled. ‘Tears are hardly the worst things that have stained this rag,’ he said.
They stood that way for a moment, wrapped in each other’s arms, smiling fondly at each other, but then, without anything changing, something changed, and Felix’s heart lurched. One second, the embrace had been innocent, a brother hugging a sister, and then, without warning, it was innocent no longer.
It wasn’t that Felix was suddenly overcome with lust. It was just that he had all at once remembered that he was a man and Kat was a woman and that it felt very nice to hold her like this. He paused, heart pounding, and felt Kat tense too. She had become aware of it as well.
Their eyes met, and for the briefest second an electric understanding passed between them, then they broke free of each other, practically leaping apart, suddenly unsure where to look.
‘Er…’ said Felix, apparently very interested in what was going on across the yard. ‘Well, we’d best get to dinner then, eh?’
‘Aye,’ said Kat, intently rewrapping her scarf. ‘Aye, dinner. Yes.’
They turned and hurried towards the dining hall, both looking straight ahead.
Things continued uncomfortably at dinner. While Gotrek listened to Snorri’s mixed-up stories of the siege of Middenheim, and Rodi and Argrin laughed and shared stories with their friends among the Stangenschloss garrison, Felix and Kat ate quietly, not speaking to one another, and shying away from eye contact. Every once in a while Felix would look up and find Kat staring at him, only to look away when he caught her. And at other times he would find himself staring at her, only to look away when she caught him.
Felix cursed himself each time. What was wrong with him? It wasn’t right! The girl was almost half his age!
On the other hand, he told himself, she was older than Claudia, and he had allowed himself to be seduced by her. But he hadn’t known Claudia when she was seven! Nor had he cared for Claudia the way he did for Kat. Claudia had been a manipulative fool who had wanted to use him as a way to rebel against the strictures of her cloistered life, and in a weak moment he had been ready to use her in return.
Kat was different. Felix felt responsible for her. He had shaped her past, and was concerned for her future. He didn’t want to hurt her through some callous, casual lovemaking. She was no tavern girl or courtesan who gave her favours easily and often. She was… Kat, still in his mind the solemn little girl who had waved and cried when he and Gotrek had left her to go to Nuln all those years ago.
If he and Kat came together – and the brief electric look they had exchanged had made him unable to think of anything else – it would have to mean something. It would have to be as lovers, and not just as friendly sparring partners. And that, he feared, was impossible, for a number of reasons.
First were their oaths. Kat was bound to the Drakwald by her vow to rid it of beastmen. Felix was bound to Gotrek by his vow to follow him and record his doom. He could never tell one day to the next where he would be. Nothing he and Kat shared could last for long, for Got
rek never kept still.
Second was their ages, something that hadn’t mattered so much with Claudia, who would have never been more than a momentary affair. It would be different if he remained with Kat. No matter what Max said about Felix’s longevity, he would still be in his sixties when she was forty. It would be fair to neither of them.
Third, and now that he thought of it, most important, was the stark fact that he wasn’t sure if he was in love with her. He loved her, certainly, but it was the tender, protective love one has for family, rather than the soul-piercing, heart-enflaming love that one had for… for…
Ulrika.
Felix cursed when he thought of her. Was he always going to be comparing other women to her? It would never be a fair test. They had been a perfect match of temperament and inclination. Restless wanderers who struck sparks off each other like flint and steel. Beside her, Claudia was a spoiled, snivelling brat, and Kat was a sweet-natured but unworldly yokel. It was hopeless. Neither woman could hold a candle to her, and yet love with them was possible, if he wanted it, where it never would be with Ulrika. Ulrika had been made a vampire. She no longer lived by the laws of the living. There could be nothing between her and Felix that would not lead to death or destruction for one or both of them. He had to forget her. It was imperative. Someday he would have to give up and settle for his second choice.
He looked at Kat again. He knew Ulrika would not begrudge him taking up with the girl. It had been she after all who had said that they must find solace among their own kind. But what solace could be had when he would be taking Kat’s love without being able to return it in full? The guilt would kill him. She deserved more than what he could give.
She looked up, and again there was that arcing spark of attraction between them. He looked away quickly, pretending to look for more beer. He bit his cheek hard to drive away the flicker of lustful images that flared up before his eyes, then laughed at himself. So full of noble sentiments. He only hoped they would stand when put to the test.
Beside him Gotrek had turned away from Snorri and was staring at a soldier who sat across the table from Rodi and Argrin.
‘Empty?’ Gotrek was saying. ‘Do you mean all dead?’
Felix turned to listen as the soldier shook his head. ‘No, herr dwarf. The man said “empty”. Him and his fellows is trappers, and they was out in the deep woods when the big herd passed by. They never saw ’em, but when they got back to Weinig they could see that them beasties had been to call and no mistake. The whole place was mashed flat – gate, houses and temple – just as you’d expect. But the weird part…’ The soldier leaned in and lowered his voice for effect. ‘The eerie part, was that there was no people. Not a man, woman or child. They was all gone, and precious few corpses neither.’
Rodi shrugged. ‘The beastmen took them,’ he said. ‘For food or for slaves.’
‘No,’ said Kat. ‘You don’t know them.’
Rodi’s eyes widened to be challenged so bluntly by a woman, but Kat continued without looking at him.
‘They might have taken some for food,’ she said. ‘But not many. They don’t carry their larders with them. They eat as they go. And they don’t take human slaves, because they can’t keep up.’
‘Then where did they go?’ asked Argrin. ‘The men, I mean.’
Kat shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’
‘Neither did the trapper,’ said the soldier, eager to get the attention back on himself. ‘But he found the same thing in Bohrung and Grube further south. All vanished, like they was sucked up into the sky by a whirlwind.’
‘Mayhap yer trapper was mad, Pfaltz,’ said another soldier, laughing. ‘A herd of beastmen that makes people disappear? Sounds like a tall tale to me.’
‘Or a good doom,’ muttered Gotrek, his one eye shining with the fire from the torches of the hall as the others laughed and insulted the storyteller.
Felix shivered. When Gotrek smelled a good doom, he knew trouble was sure to follow. He did not look forward to the morrow.
For three days Lord Ilgner’s party pushed ever deeper into the trackless heart of the Drakwald, a terrifying green vastness that seemed to Felix, his imagination fuelled by the stories of the tale-spinning soldier, to be one giant malevolent organism that watched them through half-slumbering eyes like some listless cat – too comfortable for the moment to bother going after the mouse that has entered its territory, but secure in the knowledge that its prey was trapped, and that it could reach out its paw and crush it any time it chose – or make it vanish.
There were no roads north of Stangenschloss, not even the meagre tracks that had served as such between Bauholz and the fort, and so the expedition travelled single file along faint game paths. Kat scouted the way far out in front, while Snorri, Rodi and Argrin – who had insisted on accompanying them despite their wounds – marched before Ilgner and ten picked knights leading their horses. Finally came Gotrek, Felix and Ortwin, bringing up the rear and keeping an eye out for anyone who might be following them.
Felix was relieved that Kat was taking point. She seemed to have regained her composure again swiftly, and had greeted him with a cheery and non-committal hello on the morning they had set out, but he found that he was still having difficulty keeping his eyes off her when she was around, and so welcomed anything that took her out of his sight.
Each day out of Stangenschloss the terrain grew hillier than the last, with much struggling up steep, brush-covered ridges, or pushing through thickly wooded ravines. Several times they came to places where they had to hack down the undergrowth to make a passage for the horses. Despite the bitter cold, the effort of the march made them sweat so much that they steamed.
On the third day they woke up to ominous clouds and whistling winds. Gusts of driving sleet lashed their faces as they broke camp and shouldered their packs. Felix wondered if Ilgner might give the order to return to Stangenschloss due to the threat of a storm, but the general didn’t even discuss it, and they continued north as before.
‘One advantage to travelling in the thick of the forest,’ he said cheerily. ‘Keeps the weather off!’
His knights laughed at that. Felix didn’t find it particularly funny, or particularly true. Being under the trees did keep the wind and the sleet out of their faces, but the melting ice dripped from the needles and down the back of his neck, and turned the forest floor into a mouldy mulch of leaves and mud that made walking more like sliding and froze his feet through his boots.
Just before noon they at last found evidence of the mysterious herd’s passage. It wasn’t hard to miss. The party wormed their way down a densely wooded pine slope and discovered Kat at the base of it, squatting and staring at a river of crushed underbrush, hoof prints, beast-dung, gnawed animal bones and branch-shorn trees so wide that the far side of it was beyond the distance they could see into the wood. Her expression was dark and thoughtful.
‘What troubles you, Kat?’ asked Lord Ilgner. ‘Is it a very big herd?’
She nodded, her mouth a flat line. ‘I don’t know if I’ve seen bigger, but that’s not all of it.’
She beckoned them forwards, cutting across the beastmen’s trampled path. As they went on, the murky leaf-shrouded light brightened, until, after twenty paces, they stepped out into a strange gap in the forest where the trees had been chopped down in a long straight line that followed the beastmen’s line of march, and the sleet beat down at them from roiling grey sky above.
Felix shielded his eyes and looked up and down the line of felled trees. It went as far as he could see in both directions – like a furrow cut into the forest by some unimaginably large plough. It was not wide – no more than five or six paces from edge to edge – but there were fallen trees and ragged stumps all along it, the axe cuts that had felled them so fresh that thick sap welled up out of them like pus from a septic wound.
‘This,’ said Kat. ‘This is unnatural. The beastmen don’t travel like this.’
‘Is it perhaps marauders instead?
’ asked Ilgner.
‘Doesn’t smell like marauders,’ said Argrin.
Kat agreed. ‘There are only hoof prints. No boots. It was a herd that did this, but I have never seen a herd cut down trees on the march. They are creatures of the forest. They move through trees like we move in the open. I don’t understand it.’
‘Perhaps they have a cannon,’ said Felix.
Rodi laughed. ‘Beastmen don’t have cannon!’ he said. ‘They don’t even have bows and arrows.’
‘Listen to the beardling,’ said Gotrek under his breath. ‘He knows everything.’
‘Those that lead the beasts sometimes have cannon,’ said Felix, remembering the hellish weapon that the Chaos champion Justine had brought with the herd that had attacked Flensburg.
‘It might be a cannon,’ said Kat doubtfully. ‘But where are the tracks of the wheels?’
‘Unnatural or not,’ said Ilgner, waving her on, ‘we have found our quarry’s spoor, and it does not appear to be hard to follow. Let the hunt begin.’
EIGHT
Whatever the beastmen’s reasons for clearing a path through the forest, Ilgner was right, it made them exceptionally easy to follow, and also allowed the party of knights and Slayers to nearly double its speed. By mid-afternoon they had covered the same distance they had travelled the whole of the previous day, and Kat said that they were coming very near to catching up to the herd, for the dung and the half-eaten carcasses that littered the trail were still fresh. After that, they went with weapons drawn, and Ilgner and his knights stayed mounted, their helmets on and crossbows loaded and ready.
Felix was so focused on looking and listening to the front, worried that at any minute they were going to run into the back of the herd, that when trouble came from behind them, he failed to hear it. Only when Gotrek stopped and looked back did he hear the distant thudding of heavy hooves below the moaning of the wind and the rattle of the freezing rain. He followed Gotrek’s gaze, wiping his eyes and peering through the slanting sleet, but the sound was coming from over the last ridge and there was nothing to see yet.
