Gotrek & Felix- the Fourth Omnibus - Nathan Long

by Warhammer

‘Not yet!’ she hissed.

  ‘What are we waiting for?’ Felix whispered angrily. ‘Come to think of it, why didn’t we grab Gotrek before they brought him in here?’

  ‘Too many people about,’ Ulrika replied. ‘Plus, I want to see what happens.’

  ‘Whatever’s about to happen, it won’t be good for Gotrek!’

  ‘Relax, Felix.’

  ‘Tell me what she’s up to or I swear I will give us away right now.’

  Ulrika sighed. ‘Fine. Pragarti is planning a spell, a big one.’

  ‘I know that!’ said Felix. ‘That’s why Gotrek and I were trying to find her and stop her. She’s been gathering ingredients and followers all across the Old World. We’ve been tracking her for months, but we have no idea what the spell is for.’

  ‘It will kill every first-born child in the Empire.’

  ‘Sigmar’s beard!’

  Ulrika continued. ‘The final ingredient is the blood of a dead hero.’

  ‘Gotrek? But he’s not dead!’

  ‘Exactly. Why do you think I’m waiting to see what happens?’

  Felix fell silent and watched as Pragarti stepped onto the dais. She lifted her hood to reveal a hideous, skull-like head. Sunken eyes gazed down at the prone Slayer while boney fingers toyed with the crest atop his head. Her parched skin clung tightly to withered cheek bones and her ghastly teeth, no longer concealed by lips, chattered as she began an incantation.

  Despite the risk to Gotrek, Felix was also curious to see what would happen. Hopefully it would involve Pragarti’s pickled innards spread over a wide area.

  ‘Get up!’

  The voice was so loud, everyone in the vast space turned to look.

  Felix and Ulrika rose slowly. There was a gasp from many of the assembled throng. The two men who had discovered the eavesdroppers were carrying pistols. Their faces were obscured by their grey hoods.

  ‘Why am I being interrupted?’ Pragarti snapped, her voice echoing.

  ‘Supreme sorceress,’ one of the men said, pushing his captors out into the open. ‘We found these two watching the proceedings.’

  As Felix approached, Pragarti’s fury turned to humour.

  ‘Herr Jaeger,’ she said. ‘And Ulrika Magdova! I’m so glad you could join us. Have you come to pay your last respects?’

  ‘You’ll regret poisoning the Slayer, Pragarti,’ Felix said, matching her steely gaze.

  ‘I would love to take the credit, Herr Jaeger, but I would be doing the real killer a disservice. It’s true I wanted Herr Gurnisson dead, but I had not intended him to die for a week or so. But since someone went to so much trouble, I thought it best to take advantage of such delightful happenstance. Genuine heroes are hard to come by.’

  At first, Felix assumed she was lying. But why wouldn’t she take credit for the Slayer’s death if she was responsible? With no reason to lie, she must be telling the truth. So, if not Pragarti, then who had sent the assassin?

  Ulrika slapped Felix on the arm to get his attention. He followed her gaze to the far corner of the warehouse where a sewer grating had been flipped over.

  Nobody else had noticed. All eyes were fixed on Pragarti.

  The sorceress didn’t seem to care that her prisoners weren’t paying attention to her. ‘I shall continue, then, if that’s all right with you and your distinguished friend, Herr Jaeger.’

  ‘Yes, please do,’ Felix said, turning back. ‘It’s just a shame you won’t get to finish the spell. I for one would love to have seen the results.’

  Pragarti smiled – at least Felix assumed it was a smile, it was hard to tell.

  He glanced once again at the grating in the far corner. Something was emerging. No, not something. Somethings. Dozens of them. Black, fast moving, rodent-like.

  Oh no.

  Now all eyes turned to the flurry of activity in the corner. Swords were drawn, pistols readied, cloaks and hoods shaken off.

  Felix backed away, following Ulrika’s pre-emptive retreat. Nobody stopped them. A surge of black fur, twitching whiskers and deafening squeaks was pouring out of the sewer. A large area was now filled with writhing ratmen. It was like watching a swarm of giant insects. The smell of them was overwhelming: musty and cloying.

  ‘Gotrek!’ Felix yelled to Ulrika, taking a step towards the dais.

  ‘There isn’t time,’ Ulrika insisted, pulling him back with astonishing strength. ‘We have to go or we’ll be cut to ribbons!’

  The skaven descended on Pragarti’s followers like a waterfall of thick, black pitch. Screams of dying men filled the air, mixing with the cacophony of chittering and squawking.

  The sheer number of skaven was enough to convince Felix to turn and flee. As he ran he glanced back at Pragarti. She seemed twice her usual size now. Fire and lightning crackled from her bony digits. Creature after creature fell in crisp, toasted heaps at her feet as one by one she deep fried them in their own fur. The unnatural skaven stench was joined by the sickly sweet smell of sizzling flesh and smoldering fur. Hundreds of the creatures were roasted by Pragarti or cut down by the swords and pistols of her followers. But they didn’t stop; the torrent of black fur seemed endless. Felix had seen skaven attacks like this before, but still he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

  ‘How have you survived this long?’ Ulrika said. She yanked Felix’s arm again and led him out of the building. The terrible screams of the dying – human and ratkin alike – were instantly muted as they passed back through the false image of the derelict warehouse. The illusion of shattered commerce masked the terrible battle taking place within. Felix was glad of it.

  ‘What now?’ he asked.

  ‘Now we wait.’

  ‘For what?’

  ‘I have a theory,’ Ulrika said. ‘Ragethar is a skaven poison. Perhaps they’ve come to collect Gotrek’s body. All we need to do is wait until they win, then follow them.’

  Felix stared at the ruined facade for a moment, lost in thought.

  ‘Perhaps you’re right.’

  When they re-entered some time later, it was hard to breathe. Clouds of scalded fur made the air thick. Bodies, skaven and human, littered the floor. The dying could be heard moaning and whimpering. Felix ignored them all. There was only one body he was interested in.

  He leapt up onto the dais but saw that it was empty. He searched for some sign, any evidence that the Slayer had been consumed. Thankfully there was none.

  ‘They took him?’ Ulrika asked, eyeing the dead and wounded like a hungry, fat man would ogle a banquet table loaded with fine meats and delicacies.

  ‘Aye, I think so.’

  She nodded. ‘Stands to reason. So we go after them?’

  Felix saw no other choice, though he wished for one. He must have spent a good quarter of his life in sewers and tunnels. He knew full well that Gotrek would never leave him down there with a bunch of ratmen. He placed a hand on his sword hilt to still his nerves and followed Ulrika to the corner of the room.

  In their haste to retreat, the skaven had left the grate open. Patches of fur clung to the sides of the square entrance. Felix tried to avoid making contact with anything as he dropped down into the tunnel below. Ulrika landed silently beside him and pointed ahead.

  ‘The skaven will go as deep as possible as quickly as possible. Come on.’

  The smell down here was stomach-churning, though slightly more tolerable than that of the battle’s aftermath in the warehouse. Felix sloshed through the town’s detritus as quickly as his aching legs would carry him, hoping that none of the undesirable flotsam spilled into his boots. He found himself missing the wide sewers of Nuln with their ledges alongside the water channel. Kutenholz was a town just big enough to warrant a sewer system, but it wasn’t extensive. Every now and then they would pass under a grating, which allowed some light to filter down into the tunnel.

  After a time, Felix could hear the rush of flowing water some distance ahead. Presumably this was the sewer’s outlet to the river. Instead of continuing on, U
lrika led him to a side tunnel. Felix realised it was in fact a large hole, gnawed into the stones lining the sewer walls. As they walked, all trace of light faded and the ground sloped downwards. Felix knew they were entering the skaven undertown. He was aware of labyrinthine nests hidden beneath the Empire’s cities, but it disturbed him that even towns such as Kutenholz had their own secret hives of activity beneath the surface.

  Felix only became aware that Ulrika had stopped when he walked into her. He could barely make her out and was grateful for her astonishing night vision. He stepped back and unsheathed his sword part of the way, as quietly as he could. But a moment later, she started up again so it must have been a false alarm.

  After what seemed like a lifetime of walking, the tunnel opened out. Ulrika halted again.

  ‘That way is a large chamber,’ she whispered. Felix couldn’t see where she was pointing. ‘It will likely be full of skaven. I’m surprised we’ve not seen any yet.’

  Felix could hear noises from the gloom: voices, squeaking, chattering.

  ‘We should find another way in.’

  ‘Aye. Let’s go this way.’

  Ulrika headed off. Felix struggled to keep up with her. His leg muscles burned.

  Finally, light crept into the tunnel. The sound of a single skaven speaking, punctuated by roars and squeaks from a large audience, carried clearly to Felix. In time, the pathway opened onto an empty platform, set up high above a huge chamber. As they crept out onto the rickety balcony, they could see below them hundreds of skaven gathered in the large space. All those present, mostly clanrats with a few rat-ogres here and there, stared up at a single, grey-furred creature addressing them. Its robes and markings were familiar to Felix, but the skaven itself was not. This grey seer was young, eager, no doubt deadly. At its feet lay the prone body of Gotrek.

  Clearly, all was not well with this skaven army. It was hard to tell since they spoke in their native tongue, but to Felix it seemed as though the chieftains were speaking out against their leader, questioning his motives.

  One of them spoke louder than the rest in a series of squeaks and hisses.

  To Felix’s surprise, he could understand every word the irritated grey seer spoke in reply.

  ‘Castle Reiksguard can wait. Capturing the Slayer’s body is not waste of time-effort. The Council of Thirteen will reward us when they receive this gift. All of us will be rewarded, yes-yes?’

  The reaction to this sounded more positive. In the enclosed cavern the noise was deafening.

  ‘Why is he speaking Reikspiel?’ Felix asked Ulrika in a whisper.

  ‘He’s showing off,’ she replied.

  Another chieftain spoke, this time in broken Reikspiel. ‘Who is Slayer, Grey Seer Gnawklaw? Why Council care?’

  Gnawklaw tapped his staff upon the stone floor impatiently, quieting the din that accompanied the chieftain’s question. It was clear most of the assembled skaven didn’t understand the exchange but were following their chieftain’s lead.

  ‘He is much-much valuable. This prize is far greater than anything Castle Reiksguard has to offer. Besides, we can go there later. We will take both prizes to the Council and all of us will share in this success. We will achieve what my predecessor could not.’

  Something about the way Gnawklaw said ‘predecessor’ put Felix in mind of an old enemy. He shuddered.

  ‘You risk first mission as grey seer, and all our lives on hunch?’ the chieftain said.

  ‘What guarantee do we have that you will not take all the glory for yourself?’ another asked.

  Gnawklaw rapped his staff on the ground again to quell the roar of agreement.

  ‘I only need to present the Slayer’s head to the Council. Perhaps I should divide up the rest and share amongst you? Then you too will have proof of your role in the death of the greatest skaven nemesis!’

  These words received the biggest roar of approval so far, enough to make Felix’s ears ring. Once the noise had calmed down, he whispered to Ulrika. ‘They’re going to chop Gotrek up! We have to get him out!’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ she replied. ‘Look.’

  Once again, Ulrika’s sharp eyes had spotted what Felix had missed. He peered again at the Slayer’s corpse-like form. Was that a twitching hand he spied?

  It couldn’t be. Gotrek wasn’t supposed to wake up for a week at least!

  ‘We will not become great by scuttling around, stealing from man-castles in the dead of night. We will become great by delivering the body of our greatest enemy to the Council of Thirteen. We will achieve glory! Now, who wants a cut-slice of Slayer?’

  Gnawklaw drew a wickedly sharp blade from his robes, and in one swift moment, took a chunk out of Gotrek’s crest. Felix winced but saw no blood. Still, the Slayer was going to be angry. The grey seer tossed the handful of hair into the crowd and the skaven chattered and squeaked appreciatively.

  ‘What’s that? You want a piece of his body? How about a hand?’

  A roar of approval.

  ‘Ulrika!’ Felix hissed, hand on his sword, making ready to jump from the platform.

  The skaven blade swished towards Gotrek’s arm, but to the grey seer’s shock it didn’t make contact. A hand clamped around his wrist.

  Gnawklaw squeaked. He tore his arm free and spoke a very rapid incantation. A puff of smoke accompanied his hasty departure.

  Panic struck in a ripple effect, from those skaven nearest the front all the way to the back, as the ratkin all tried to leave at the same time. Many were trampled to death by the confused rat-ogres. Some made it out. Others were cut down by the hacking and slashing of a very angry Slayer armed with the razor-sharp blade of a grey seer.

  ‘Why are you running away?’ Gotrek cried, his voice slicing through the terrified mob as keenly as the knife parted their flesh. ‘I’m dead, remember?’

  Bits of skaven flew in all directions as the Slayer took out his frustrations upon them.

  ‘You want a piece of me?’ he roared, slicing a startled clanrat in two.

  Felix and Ulrika jumped down from the ledge, their weapons ready. A mass of fleeing skaven tried to change direction when they saw the danger ahead, but not fast enough. Ulrika was a whirr of motion, dead clanrats dropping at her feet like the faithful worshipping Sigmar himself. Felix did his fair share of damage, his sword gutting, stabbing and slashing at the hateful creatures as they tried to run.

  It wasn’t long before Ulrika and Felix reached Gotrek.

  ‘I am not happy,’ the Slayer grumbled.

  ‘Good!’ Felix said. ‘Take it out on the vermin!’

  Gotrek was only too keen to comply. The remaining skaven had rallied a defence of sorts, forming a barrier between the three comrades and the retreating chieftains.

  ‘Did you bring my axe?’ the Slayer asked.

  ‘No,’ said Felix. ‘I didn’t think you’d be needing it.’

  Gotrek grunted. ‘Looks like we will need to fight our way out of here, manling.’

  ‘Wouldn’t have it any other way.’

  The two companions yelled an impromptu battle-cry and charged, smashing into the skaven front line like a two-man avalanche.

  Ulrika rolled her eyes. ‘Men,’ she said. Then she too rushed to join the fight.

  Felix emerged into the moonlight, grateful for the cool night breeze on his face and the feeling of freedom. They were some way from Kutenholz, on the banks of the river Delb. His eyes had grown so accustomed to the dark of the tunnels that here, outside, it might as well have been noon on a summer day.

  Ulrika and Gotrek emerged from the tunnel. Both were covered in skaven blood. Felix assumed he was too. He collapsed by the river, lying on his back and drinking in the sky and the stars. It was a beautiful night by any measure, but it felt even sweeter to be alive and out in the open air again. He rolled to the water’s edge and drank for a good while.

  Gotrek flopped down beside him. ‘Where’s my axe, manling?’ he demanded.

  Typical Gotrek. Not, ‘Why
was I dead?’ but, ‘Where’s my axe?’

  ‘It’s safe, don’t worry.’

  ‘And the assassin?’

  ‘Just a mercenary.’

  Gotrek grunted. ‘I have not been poisoned for a long time. I heard the assassin but assumed he had come to slit my throat. Didn’t see the dart until it was too late. I assume we know who hired him.’

  ‘Not for sure,’ said Ulrika.

  ‘What is she doing here?’ Gotrek asked, as if noticing her for the first time.

  ‘I’m just helping to save your life,’ Ulrika snapped.

  ‘Unlikely,’ said Gotrek.

  Ulrika coughed. ‘Excuse me! I fought Pragarti and the skaven today, risking my neck for you.’

  ‘You have been busy,’ Gotrek said.

  Felix turned on his side and propped his head up with one hand. He tossed small stones into the river with the other.

  ‘It’s curious, though, Gotrek. Every step of the way, Ulrika’s been several moves ahead of me.’

  ‘Not that curious, manling. The vampire is as slippery as a buttered eel.’

  ‘How dare–’

  ‘And isn’t it curious,’ Felix continued, ‘that Ulrika knew you’d been poisoned with Ragethar, even though I never mentioned it to her?’

  ‘I talked to the apothecary,’ she explained.

  ‘Perhaps, or maybe you already knew which poison was used.’

  Before Ulrika could say anything, Gotrek moved with surprising speed. He leapt at the vampire, forced her to the ground and held the skaven blade against her throat.

  ‘Let me go!’ Ulrika hissed, struggling to break free of the Slayer’s iron grip.

  ‘Bite me,’ said Gotrek.

  Felix stood up and walked over. He crouched down close to Ulrika’s face.

  ‘And then I thought about how unlikely it was that the apothecary just down the street from the inn would not only recognise the symptoms of an obscure skaven poison but also have the antidote handy. By your own admission, you wanted Pragarti to believe Gotrek was dead so her spell would backfire. That’s why you had him poisoned. Am I right?’

  ‘Damn heroes,’ she spluttered. ‘You were so painfully obvious, stomping around looking for Pragarti! I couldn’t go near you without her spies seeing me, and I didn’t want her to know I was on her trail. I wanted her spell to backfire because she thought the Slayer was dead. If I had told you what I was planning, she would have found out.’