by Warhammer
Snorri looked up at them, puzzled. Apparently they hadn’t moved far enough to escape his keen dwarfen hearing.
‘Snorri doesn’t know what you’re talking about,’ said Snorri as Felix reddened. ‘Snorri remembers his shame.’
Felix blinked, his heart thumping with sudden hope. ‘You – you remember?’ he asked. ‘Truly?’
‘Of course,’ said Snorri. ‘How could Snorri forget? It was…’
Felix and Max waited as the old Slayer’s gaze turned inwards and he paused, his fork halfway to his mouth.
‘It was…’
A look of panic began to spread over Snorri’s cheerful, ugly face, and his eyes darted left and right, as if his memory might be hiding in some corner of the tent.
‘It was…’
Snorri’s hand slowly lowered, and he laid his forkful of meat back on his plate. Now his eyes stared off into some unimaginable distance. ‘Snorri has forgotten his shame,’ he said softly. ‘This is bad.’
Felix winced. ‘Snorri, you already knew this,’ he said. ‘You told us on the way to the Barren Hills. You’re going to Karak Kadrin to pray for the return of your memory at the Shrine of Grimnir.’
Snorri stuffed the meat into his mouth and chewed angrily. ‘Snorri remembers,’ he said. ‘He just forgot that he forgot for a moment.’ But the pain on the old Slayer’s face told Felix that he was lying. The loss was as fresh as the first time he had realised it.
Felix and Max exchanged another look, then Felix had to turn away. How horrible to have to experience over and over again the pain of learning that you had forgotten the most important thing in your life – the key to your only chance at redemption.
‘Wizard, come here.’
Felix and Max turned. Gotrek was standing in the door of the tent, looking at Snorri, his face hard and closed. Max crossed to him, and Felix stood and went with him.
‘What is it, Gotrek?’ asked Max.
‘Snorri Nosebiter will need a sleeping draught,’ he said.
Max looked over his shoulder at Snorri. ‘Now? But there is less than an hour before we start for the castle.’
‘Now,’ said Gotrek through gritted teeth. ‘Snorri isn’t going.’
Max frowned, then nodded. ‘Ah. I see. Very well, Slayer. It will be done.’
Gotrek grunted and turned away again, walking off into the darkness. The pain behind his rage was almost harder to witness than Snorri’s confusion. Gotrek was the most honest person Felix had ever met – not the kindest by any means, but he never lied or engaged in trickery – so to be forced to go behind Snorri’s back and drug him so that he would stay behind and not seek his doom was obviously killing him – even though it meant saving his old friend’s eternity.
TWENTY-FOUR
Max brought Snorri a huge stein of beer as he was having his third helping of sausages, and by the time von Uhland’s army moved out for Castle Reikguard an hour later, he was snoring noisily, his head down on the table and his hand still clasped around the stein.
Felix didn’t dare meet Gotrek’s eye as they left the old Slayer behind and followed Max, Father Marwalt, Magister Marhalt, Dominic Reiklander and six picked Reiksguard knights out of the camp. Gotrek was as tensed as a bear trap, and Felix didn’t care to get his leg bitten off. He hoped the others were smart enough to sense his mood as well, or there would likely be violence before they reached the castle.
While von Uhland’s main force marched off due east along the main road, Lord Dominic led the infiltrators by the light of a slotted lantern through the trees to the woods north of the fields that surrounded Castle Reikguard, where he said the entrance to the secret tunnel was hidden. Felix grew wary as they got close, for these had been the woods from which Kemmler’s horde had poured. The bats had risen from this wood, and the siege towers had been built at its edge. But now, it seemed, they were deserted. He neither heard nor saw any evidence of the undead, nor of any other being. No birds sang in the branches. No rabbit or fox or badger rattled through the undergrowth, and with the winter branches as yet unbudded, it was as if they moved through a dead world – as if they might be the last men alive in the Empire.
As he trudged along at the back of the line with Gotrek, Felix kept finding himself staring at the twin brothers, Father Marwalt and Magister Marhalt, who walked side by side in the centre of the line, their heads together as if having a private conversation, but without speaking a word. Finally, his curiosity got the better of him, and he edged up to Max, who was just ahead of him in the line.
‘Max,’ he said softly, nodding ahead. ‘The father and the magister, do… do they have some sort of connection?’
Max smiled slyly. ‘Besides the obvious?’ he asked. ‘Yes, they can speak with only their minds. Indeed, that is partly how they came to choose their professions.’
He dropped back with Felix and continued, filling his pipe with tobacco. ‘There was a third brother, Marnalt – another twin – and the three could speak to each other in this manner from birth, but then Marnalt was murdered by a necromancer, and used for foul experiments. After his death, however, the dead brother came to the living pair in their dreams, and they discovered that they could communicate together as they had when they were alive.’ Max made a flame appear at the end of his finger and lit the pipe, then went on. ‘Marnalt begged his brothers to find a way to free him from his ghostly unlife and let him pass on to Morr’s realm, and so the brothers found their calling. Marwalt sought the answer to his brother’s predicament in the teachings of Morr, while Marhalt entered the Amethyst College to seek a sorcerous solution, and in the process, each discovered that they had great natural abilities, which they have since used to fight necromancy in all its forms.’
‘And did they free their brother?’ asked Felix.
‘Oh yes,’ said Max. ‘And exposed, ruined and destroyed the villain who had imprisoned his soul, and the souls of a thousand other children.’ He smiled and started ahead again. ‘They have been much in demand since then.’
A while later, with the moons both low in the sky, Lord Dominic slowed to a stop and pointed ahead.
‘The passage is in front of us,’ he said. ‘About fifty paces.’
Max nodded. ‘Go quietly then,’ he said. ‘There may be guards.’
Felix and Gotrek and the Reiksguard knights drew their weapons as Dominic closed his slotted lantern, and Max and the robed twins mumbled spells and invocations. When all were prepared, they crept forwards again, and after a minute came to a small clearing. There was a charcoal maker’s hut to one side, long since burned to the ground and slowly returning to the forest. Creepers overgrew the exterior walls and dead weeds pushed up through the planks of the little porch.
‘I sense no one,’ said Max.
‘Nor any necromantic construct,’ said Father Marwalt.
‘Nor spell of death,’ said Magister Marhalt.
‘On, then,’ said Dominic.
They entered the clearing, and quickly saw that it had been recently visited. The brush was crushed flat, and there were footprints in the leaf mould, some made by bare feet, some by heavy boots, and some by feet made of only bones.
‘The entrance is in the hut,’ said Dominic. ‘It was hidden, but…’
The Reiksguard captain took the lead and stuck his head in cautiously. After a quick look, he motioned the others on.
Felix followed Gotrek in and looked around. The interior was as dilapidated as the outside, roofless and weed-choked, but in one corner, the charred planks had been pulled up, revealing a square hole of masoned stone below, with steps descending into darkness. A stone hatch lay cracked into two heavy pieces beside it. Dominic grunted as he saw it.
‘Softly, friends,’ said Max. ‘There may be guards in the tunnel.’
‘I’ll go first,’ said Gotrek.
No one argued, and the Slayer walked towards the steps with Felix following after. Dominic Reiklander stepped in at his side and opened his lantern again, but the Reiksguard captai
n coughed.
‘My lord,’ he said, ‘perhaps we should go ahead.’
Dominic shook his head, though his face was pale. ‘No, Captain Hoetker,’ he said. ‘I will not be given my castle. I will take it.’
The captain looked unhappy, but could only incline his head respectfully and form up behind him. Max and the twins took up the rear, and the procession followed Gotrek into the dark.
The tunnel was two men wide, and went straight south for as far as Felix could see – which was admittedly not very far. Beyond the glow of the lantern it was pitch-dark, but it was clear that Gotrek could see well enough, for he stumped forwards unconcerned, his axe swinging at his side.
A few moments later, something glittered in the darkness ahead of them, and Felix could make out a big lump blocking the passage. Gotrek didn’t slow, but everyone else did, going on guard and whispering to each other as they went on. In a few more steps, the glittering became a spill of gold coins, and the lump became a body, slumped against one wall, its eyes bulging and its hands to its chest.
‘Von Geldrecht!’ gasped Dominic.
It was indeed the steward, his every pocket bulging with gold, and with packs, pouches and sacks heavy-laden with the stuff strapped and slung all over his body.
‘And your father’s treasure,’ said Felix. ‘He tricked your mother into unlocking its hiding place.’
‘The thief!’ snarled the young lord. ‘He always was too fond of gold.’
‘Well,’ said Max, squatting by the body and looking into its eyes, ‘then you will be pleased to hear he died of it. The strain of carrying it was too much.’
Gotrek snorted. ‘Pathetic.’
Dominic looked uncertainly at the spilled treasure, then motioned for them to continue. ‘We will have to leave it for the moment. None of you will speak of this until it is recovered. Understood?’
There was a general murmur of assent, though some of the knights looked over their shoulders as they went on, and Felix frowned back at it, puzzled.
‘Why wasn’t he picked clean by Draeger and his men?’ asked Felix. ‘This was their escape route.’
‘Then they didn’t get this far,’ said Gotrek.
And about a hundred paces further in, the Slayer’s prediction proved true. The passage was clotted with dismembered bodies and broken weapons, and blood festooned the walls.
‘Who were these?’ asked Dominic as he picked his way fastidiously through the carnage.
‘A militia captain and his men,’ said Felix. ‘They tried to escape after Kemmler and his wights came in.’ He grimaced as he found Draeger amongst the bodies. He was in three parts, and partially eaten. ‘It seems they met some stragglers.’
Dominic shivered, then continued on.
The passage ended at last against a wall of massive, dwarf-cut stone that Felix realised must be the foundations of Castle Reikguard’s outer walls. There was a thick, iron-bound stone door set in the blocks, wide open.
‘Hold,’ said Father Marwalt and Magister Marhalt, as Gotrek approached it. ‘There are wards here.’
The Slayer stopped and waited impatiently as Max and the twins muttered and probed the air before them with cautious hands, conferring all the while. Finally, Father Marwalt turned and spread his long-fingered hands. All the colour seemed to drain out of the air between his palms, and a cloud of grey mist billowed forth, rolling towards the dwarf and the men. It was as cold as the grave.
Gotrek growled and lifted his axe. ‘Curse your sorcery, death priest,’ he snarled. ‘What is this?’
‘What are you doing?’ barked Dominic. ‘Desist!’
Magister Marhalt held up a hand as his brother continued the spell. ‘Fear not,’ he said. ‘It is an invocation called Morr’s Mask. It is harmless, if unpleasant. It will hide our warmth and heartbeats and make us appear dead to the undead. It is oft used by paladins of Morr to get close to their prey.’
A clammy chill permeated Felix’s clothes, leaving a sticky film of damp on his skin. His breath clouded, then grew too cold to make steam. The tips of his fingers were blue.
‘You are making corpses of us,’ said Dominic, revulsed.
‘My lord, I promise you,’ said Magister Marhalt, ‘it is only a mask. With it, we should be able to walk past any undead, for they will believe us more of their own kind.’
Dominic and the knights whispered prayers and made signs of the gods as the cloud settled around them. Gotrek cursed in Khazalid and glared at the priest and the magister with one cold eye, but he stayed his axe.
A moment later Father Marwalt lowered his arms, then ducked his head apologetically. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I should have explained first. I am unused to fighting alongside those who are not of Morr’s temple.’ He motioned to the door. ‘You may go in. The wards will not notice us now.’
Gotrek strode to the door and went in without pausing. The rest followed more hesitantly. Felix could feel nothing as they passed through except the cold mist of the priest’s spell, which moved with them as they went. Inside, the passage turned right, following the castle wall until it ended at a narrow spiral stair. The stair was almost too thin for Gotrek to enter, and he had to turn sideways and hold his axe behind him in order to climb it. Felix couldn’t imagine how the huge wights had done it – unless they had deformed themselves in some way.
The stairs went on and on, around and around and around until Felix thought he was in some horrible looping nightmare where he was forced to climb forever without getting anywhere. Finally, however, long after his knees were ready to give out and his mind ready to scream, the steps ended at a short corridor with one wall of stone, and one wall of wood. Rather, the corridor had once had a wooden wall, but it had been smashed through, as if by an explosion, and the panelling and struts and the remains of the secret door that had been set into it were now strewn across the carpeted floor of the ruins of a stately bedroom.
A canopied bed larger than the charcoal burner’s shack through which they had entered rose against one wall, the initials KF picked out in gold on the headboard, and beautiful pieces of furniture and giant paintings of the Emperor’s august ancestors lined the panelled walls, now all sadly smashed and slashed.
Gotrek brought his axe into guard and stepped through the splintered wall into the room, looking around, then motioned the others forwards. They ducked through behind him, swords and spells at the ready.
‘Come,’ said Dominic, shaking his head at the wreckage as he crossed towards the far door. ‘The stairs are this way.’
They passed through an entryway lined with suits of armour, then through a shattered door to a landing that Felix recognised. It was there that Kemmler had appeared to them before taking the graf and grafin away in his cloud of shadows. Felix edged to the railing and looked down. Below was the door to Graf Reiklander’s apartments, and the pile of bodies of the men who had died there – the young spearman, the handgunner, the artilleryman, Classen and Bosendorfer. At least, he thought with a glance at Dominic, the corpses of the graf and grafin were not among them.
Movement from further below drew his eye and he looked down the well of the stairway. The ground floor was crawling with shuffling zombies, wandering aimlessly and bumping into each other, as well as a few ghouls, their heads twitching nervously this way and that as they hunched over dead bodies and sucked the marrow from their bones. Felix tried not to wonder if any of those bodies, or any of the zombies, was Kat. He must focus on the task at hand.
He turned away and prepared to follow Gotrek with the others, but the Slayer stopped and raised his axe. The rune upon its head was blazing as bright as Felix had ever seen it, and reflected red in Gotrek’s single eye.
‘The necromancer is here,’ he growled.
‘Yes,’ said Magister Marhalt, his eyes half-closed. ‘Below us, on the ground floor. We must be careful.’
Father Marwalt put a finger to his lips. ‘Quiet from here on and move slowly,’ he said. ‘The undead will not notice us.�
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‘And remember,’ added Max, shooting a hard glance at Gotrek and Felix, ‘our aim is to open the gates for von Uhland, not to have any unnecessary fights. You may fight as you like after we have let the army in.’
Gotrek grunted, but made no complaint, and they all turned and started down the steps at a ponderous crawl.
It was like something out of a nightmare, thought Felix – walking through a castle full of the living dead as if invisible, and all the while fearing that one would come upon a loved one. With thudding heart, he scanned each pile of bodies they passed, looking for, but praying he wouldn’t find, the tatters of a heavy wool coat, or a broken bow or hatchet, among the bones. He saw nothing, but that was no guarantee Kat still lived. She might have been eaten. She might be a zombie. She might have been chopped to pieces by Krell and left on the wall.
The ground floor as they reached it was thick with zombies and ghouls, and Felix found it difficult not to go on guard as they neared them. Some of the knights couldn’t help themselves, and Max and the twins had to surreptitiously grasp their arms to remind them to lower their swords.
Felix clenched his teeth until they ached, expecting at any moment that one of the horrors would look up and see them as interlopers and groan warning to the others, but they didn’t. Even the ghouls, who were living things, with almost human intelligence, gave them no more than a passing glance. Still, he couldn’t help holding his breath, or gripping the hilt of his sword.
The keep’s grand foyer was ten paces down a broad corridor – a high, marble-floored entry hall with the door to the courtyard around the corner to the right, and the open double doors of the great hall to the left, and as they shuffled towards it through the crowds of undead, Felix began to hear low murmurings and whisperings coming from within the dining hall.
‘Eyes front,’ whispered Max. ‘He is there.’
But as they entered the foyer and turned towards the front door, Felix couldn’t help but look back, and neither could any of the others – not Gotrek, not Dominic, not even Max or Father Marwalt or Magister Mar-halt, who all slanted their eyes over their shoulders as they walked on.
