by Warhammer
‘You, boy!’ called Felix.
The boy looked up, eyes wide, then bolted for the kitchen yard, which was around another corner of the keep.
‘Come back here!’ called Felix and ran after him. He might have news of Kat!
He saw the boy disappear into a wooden storage barn built against the outer wall, and slowed to a trot. There was no exit from the shed. He was trapped.
‘All right, then,’ he said, stepping into the wide doorway. ‘Come out. I only want to talk–’
He cut off abruptly when he saw that he was facing a bristling thicket of daggers and spears and clubs, with a gang of frightened-looking rustics behind them.
‘This be our spoils,’ said the one in front, a slope-shouldered fellow with a thatch of dirty yellow hair sticking out from under a stocking cap. ‘Go find yer own.’
The boy was peeking out from behind him, glaring at Felix with angry eyes.
Felix looked past the men and saw that they had been loading bags of flour and jars of cooking oil onto a cart with a bony old plough horse hitched to it. He stepped back, lowering his sword and raising his free hand.
‘Easy,’ he said. ‘I don’t want your spoils. I… I only want to ask what happened here.’
The men looked at each other, then back at him, still suspicious. ‘It weren’t our doing,’ said the leader. ‘You can’t blame us for what happened.’
‘Of course not,’ said Felix, as soothingly as he could. ‘It was the beastmen. I just–’
‘The blue light!’ wailed a voice from a corner. ‘The blue light!’
Felix’s hair stood on end at the eerie sound. He turned with the others. Another peasant sat in the corner, hugging his knees. He was a big man, a smith’s apron strapped around his barrel torso, but his face had the wide-eyed fear of a child woken from a nightmare. ‘The blue light!’ he said again.
‘Quiet, Wattie,’ snapped the leader. ‘They’re gone now, I told you.’
‘And where’s Hanna, Gus?’ cried the big man. ‘Where’s Hanna gone?’
‘She…’ Gus looked over at a canvas tarpaulin that had been draped over something by the door. A cloven hoof, small for a beastman, stuck out from under it. ‘She went on to Leer, Wattie. I told you. Now be quiet.’
Gus turned back to Felix. ‘You best just go on yer way, mein Herr. We don’t want–’ He broke off as footsteps crunched across the snow from outside.
The peasants’ spears and daggers thrust back into guard.
‘Who’s that?’ snarled Gus. ‘Who’s with you?’
Felix saw the shadows of the dwarfs stretch across the straw of the barn floor as they stepped into the door behind Felix.
‘What’s this, now?’ asked Rodi.
Gus stared, then dropped his spear and stepped forwards. ‘Master Rodi, you’ve come back!’ Then, shooting a nervous look at the wagon full of plunder, ‘Er, is m’lord with you?’
‘No, master cook,’ said Rodi. ‘Lord Ilgner’s dead. Argrin too. Killed by the beastmen.’
Gus’s face fell. ‘Aw, that’s bad that is.’
The other peasants groaned.
‘What happened here?’ asked Rodi.
Gus sighed, and his shoulders slumped. ‘Don’t know, exactly. When the little forester girl brought word the beasts were coming, some of us was afraid and we went to hide in the old bandit caves.’
‘So she made it here!’ cried Felix.
‘Aye,’ said Gus. ‘Though much good her warning did, as ye can see. Only Wattie stayed behind, but he won’t say what happened. Something terrible though,’ he said, glancing again at the form of the little beastman under the tarpaulin.
‘The blue light,’ moaned Wattie from his corner.
‘When did this happen?’ asked Gotrek.
‘We hid in the caves last night,’ said Gus. ‘When we come back this morning, it was like this.’
‘The girl who brought the news,’ said Felix anxiously. ‘Do you know what became of her?’
Gus and the others shook their heads.
‘Saw her talking with Captain Haschke before we went to the caves,’ said Gus. ‘But not since.’ He turned back to Rodi. ‘Y’won’t tell on us, will ye, Master Rodi? We’re only fending for ourselves.’
Rodi shrugged. ‘Who is there to tell?’
Felix’s panic was returning. He backed out of the barn. ‘I must see if she’s here,’ he said, and ran off again.
He searched the fort from battlements to dungeon, torn between fear of finding Kat, and the frustration of not knowing what had happened to her. Every new body he found quickened his heart and tightened his shoulders. Every fallen beastman he came to made him cringe in anxious anticipation. At last, as the purple sky blackened to full night, he gave up. She wasn’t there, at least not that he could find, or in a condition he could recognise. Had she continued on to Bauholz? Had she gone out to fight the herd and died on the field or in the woods? He had to find out.
He ran back down to Gotrek, Snorri and Rodi, who were rolling a keg of beer up from the cellars as Gus and his followers prepared a meal.
‘We have to leave for Bauholz,’ said Felix. ‘Now.’
‘It’s too late in the day, manling,’ said Gotrek. ‘We’ll start in the morning.’
‘We can’t wait until morning,’ cried Felix. ‘We have to get to Bauholz before the herd does.’
‘And we will,’ said Gotrek, setting the barrel on its end. He nodded at Rodi. ‘The beardling has bought the cook’s horse and cart. We’ll take it by the forest road while the beasts carve their way through the trees, foot by foot. We’ll be ahead of them in a day.’
‘But we should gain as much of a lead on them as possible!’ Felix insisted. ‘It will take some time to get everyone away.’
‘Relax, Herr Jaeger,’ said Rodi. ‘A night under a roof will give us more stamina for the road. Besides, I’m hungry for a real meal.’
‘And Snorri is thirsty for real drink,’ said Snorri.
Felix growled with frustration, but he knew the dwarfs were right. A night wouldn’t make much difference, but it just felt wrong not to be moving, not to be doing something to find Kat – and help Bauholz, of course.
It was a tortuous trip. Felix was cursing with impatience every minute of the five days it took. The bony old plough horse might have been quicker than the dwarfs on foot, but it was not fast enough. Every bump, every stop to ease the cart over a frozen rut, every time they had to tromp tracks in the heavy snow so that the wheels would not get stuck, drove Felix to nail-biting frustration. He wanted to run ahead and leave the Slayers behind, and there were times when he almost gave into the urge and told them goodbye, but he knew it was folly. Without their protection he was prey to everything that lurked in the woods, and he would die not knowing if Kat lived. With them, as slow as they were, he was much more likely to get to Bauholz in one piece and be able to do something useful once he got there.
When at last, at noon on the fifth day, the snow-covered fields and timber walls of the little town hove into sight, Felix breathed a huge sigh of relief. The chimney smoke rising in little grey ribbons from its roof tops told him that the beasts had not touched it. He jumped down from the cart, unable to control his anxiety any longer, and jogged ahead to the gates.
‘I’ll just, uh, let them know we’re coming,’ he said over his shoulder as he ran.
‘Aye, manling,’ said Gotrek.
Rodi chuckled slyly.
The palisade walls were acrawl with villagers, retying the ropes that bound the logs together, setting new logs in the long-unrepaired gaps, building wooden mantlets at the tops to hide behind while firing bows. Felix nodded with surprised approval. It seemed that Noseless Milo had actually taken seriously his vow to protect the town when he took it over. Felix would not have thought it of him, though of course it would do no good in the end. Even without the foul stone, the shaman’s massive herd could overrun the little village without breaking stride. The people should be leaving, not pre
paring to fight.
A pair of gaunt peasants were guarding the front gate, and only stared at him as he ran through. As he started down the main street, he saw that the village was as busy within as without. The townsfolk were doing what they could to strengthen their meagre houses – boarding up the windows, fitting the doors with crossbars and braces, making barricades to block the streets. Felix looked around for any sign of Milo or his men, and saw none. Were they all on the walls, helping with the defences? Or had the bandit failed to defeat Ludeker’s soldiers after all? But Felix saw no Wissenland uniforms among the villagers either. Strange.
He ran to the Powder and Shot, the old Sigmarite temple turned beer hall, and stopped in wonder as he saw two men on ladders taking down the crudely painted tavern sign in preparation for replacing the gilded wooden hammer that had hung there before.
A gaunt old man stood on the steps of the temple, watching the proceedings, and Felix recognised him as Doktor Vinck.
‘Herr Doktor!’ he called as he ran towards him.
The old surgeon looked up, then smiled as he recognised Felix. ‘Herr Jaeger, is it? Well met, sir. I confess I didn’t expect you to return.’
‘What are you doing here?’ Felix asked. ‘Are you working for Noseless Milo now? Is Kat here with you?’
Doktor Vinck’s smile faded. ‘I’m afraid the answers to all those questions are linked, my boy. I am here because Milo and his cronies left town as soon as Kat brought word that the beastman herd was coming this way. They have taken all the stolen supplies that Ludeker had gathered, put them on carts and headed south. We face our destiny with nothing but a few pitchforks and hunting bows.’ He laughed and looked at the tavern sign, with its depiction of bullets and blackpowder barrel. ‘The powder and shot is gone, and so we must put our trust in Sigmar.’
‘But Kat,’ said Felix impatiently. ‘What of Kat?’
Doktor Vinck sighed. ‘Milo took her with him.’
‘What?’ cried Felix. ‘She went with that… filth?’
‘Not willingly, I assure you.’ The surgeon looked away, shame colouring his face. ‘They took her while she was sleeping in my tent. Bound and gagged her and dragged her out. There… there was nothing I could do.’
THIRTEEN
Felix stared at the doctor, fear and rage rising in him like a boiling flood. ‘When did they leave? How long ago?’
‘Only a few hours ago,’ said Doktor Vinck. ‘No more than three.’
Felix turned and ran back towards the gate without another word. Halfway across the village’s only intersection he heard a shout from his left and looked around. Sir Teobalt was limping up from the docks, leading a troop of peasants with makeshift spears over their shoulders. He seemed to have made an almost complete recovery.
‘Herr Jaeger!’ he called. ‘You have returned.’
Felix stumbled, gulping with nervousness. Sir Teobalt was the last person he wanted to see at that moment.
‘What news have you?’ the old knight asked, coming on. ‘Did you find my brothers? Did my squire acquit himself honourably?’
‘I…’ said Felix, edging sideways. ‘I’ll tell you later, sir. I must go.’
He sprinted away again, the templar’s confused cries following him as he ran.
The Slayers were just leading the cart through the village gate when he reached it.
‘Gotrek, turn about,’ said Felix, beckoning to the Slayer. ‘We must go out again.’
‘What’s happened?’ Gotrek asked.
‘Milo has fled town and kidnapped Kat. They’re three hours ahead of us.’
Gotrek looked around at the frantic efforts of the townsfolk to strengthen their walls. ‘He’s the only one with any sense. These people will all die if they stay here.’
‘Then I will stay too,’ said Rodi, his eyes lighting up. ‘You get the girl and continue south to warn the armies of men. I will stay here and do my best to convince these fools to leave, and if they do not…’ He smiled grimly. ‘Then I will die defending them.’
‘Snorri will stay too!’ said Snorri, his eyes dancing with anticipation.
‘No, Nosebiter,’ said Gotrek, jumping down from the cart. ‘You will not. You will come with us.’
‘But Snorri wants to fight beastmen.’
Gotrek’s jaws bulged under his beard. ‘Have you forgotten your pilgrimage?’
Snorri frowned, then looked downcast. ‘Yes, Snorri forgot. He will come with you.’
Gotrek turned and bowed to Rodi as Felix ground his teeth, impatient to go. ‘May you find your doom, Rodi Balkisson.’
‘And you as well, Gotrek Gurnisson,’ said Rodi, bowing in return. He saluted Snorri too. ‘May Grimnir favour you, Father Rustskull.’
‘Goodbye, uh, what’s-your-name,’ said Snorri.
And with that eloquent farewell, Felix, Gotrek and Snorri turned and trotted south down the road.
Knowing that Milo had a three-hour head start, Felix was afraid he and the Slayers might never catch him, but to his surprise, only an hour later they heard curses and harsh voices coming to them across the silence of the snowbound forest.
Felix stopped and drew his sword, listening. Gotrek and Snorri stepped to either side of him and drew their weapons as well.
‘Hold those horses still, curse you!’ came a shout that Felix thought he recognised as Noseless Milo’s. ‘Anders, Uwe, lift together on my count. The rest of you lack-wits get behind and push.’
Felix and the two Slayers started forwards again, moving slowly and quietly towards a bend in the track.
‘It’s hopeless, Milo,’ whined another voice. ‘We’ll have to leave some of the loot behind. We’ll never get it over this damned road.’
‘You’re a damned fool, Heiko!’ barked Milo. ‘This is our fortune! If we sell all this in Ahlenhof we never have to work again. I’m not leaving a stick behind.’
‘Then it’s you who’s the fool, Milo,’ said Heiko’s voice. ‘Because at this rate we’ll have beastmen crawling up our fundaments before we get ten miles.’
There was a scrape of drawn steel, and Milo’s voice raised to a shout. ‘Are you challenging me, you mewling little turd?’
Gotrek chuckled darkly. ‘They’ll do our work for us.’
‘Snorri hopes not,’ said Snorri.
They were almost at the bend now. Felix craned his neck to the left, trying to see around the intervening trees.
‘I’m only asking you to see sense, Milo,’ came Heiko. ‘I don’t want to–’
He was cut off by a heavy thud and a shout of surprise. Someone cursed, and then came a babble of voices.
‘She’s loose, damn it!’
‘I’ve got her!’
‘Ow!’
‘Damn the bitch!’
‘She’s breaking for the woods!’
Then Milo’s angry roar. ‘Get her! Get my wife!’
Felix could wait no more. He charged around the bend with the two Slayers thundering at his heels. The scene that met his eyes was a frenzy of struggle and motion. Four wagons, heavily loaded with blackpowder kegs, crates, beer barrels and all manner of plunder – including Sir Teobalt’s warhorse, Machtig, hitched to the last – sat in a crooked line along the trail, the first with its front right wheel down in a ditch and its back left raised like a dog cocking its leg to piss.
A dozen filthy men were breaking from the wagons and swarming after a little figure who plunged barefoot through the knee-high snow, dressed in nothing but a night shirt, her eyes burning with the savage desire for freedom. Felix’s heart lurched. It was Kat, her wrists tied behind her back and a rope around her neck that dragged in her wake like a leash, and he knew at that moment that he loved her with all his heart and soul.
Just then the lead man leapt forwards and caught the end of the rope, jerking it tight. Kat’s legs flew out in front of her and she went down flat on her back, yelping.
‘No!’ roared Felix, and bounded towards the man, the thudding footsteps of Gotrek and Snorri as
they followed him barely registering through his rage.
The bandits turned at his yell.
‘Ranald’s luck,’ spat Milo. ‘It’s the boyfriend. Stop him!’
Felix swung Karaghul around in a wide circle and it chimed off a half-dozen blades as he tried to break through the gangsters to Kat. He didn’t get very far. Milo’s men were well armed with swords, spears and rapiers that they must have taken from better men, and Felix could tell that some of them had been soldiers once, for they handled themselves well.
Felix parried two swords, but then had to jump back as a spearman stabbed at him from the second rank – proper military training.
None of that mattered once Gotrek and Snorri reached the fight. Swords shattered and men screamed as the Slayers waded in, weapons blurring. Felix shoved past a man who was clutching the stump of his wrist, and aimed a slash at the man who was dragging Kat away from the melee by the rope around her neck.
A movement at the corner of his eye made him duck and something clipped him a glancing blow across the top of the head. Felix hit the ground and floundered in the snow, his head smarting and the world spinning around him. Noseless Milo was trudging towards him, a woodsman’s axe in one hand, and a length of chain in the other.
‘Come on, ye pretty little Altdorf milksop,’ he snarled, raising the axe. ‘Let’s see how much she likes you when you’ve got a nose like mine!’
Felix threw up his sword just as the axe came down, and staggered to his feet as it shrieked down the length of his blade. Milo’s chain cracked him on the side of the face, then whipped around the back of his head and snapped against his other ear.
Felix howled with pain and stumbled away, his sword up blindly behind him as Milo came on. He needed a second to shake it off. He didn’t have it. Milo swung with the axe and chain again and Felix lurched aside once more. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Kat on her feet, kicking in the teeth of the man who held her rope.
