Gotrek and Felix - Road of Skulls

by Josh Reynolds

  ‘We kill them,’ Gotrek said. ‘But quietly,’ he added.

  Felix snorted. ‘That’ll be a first,’ he said.

  ‘What was that?’ Gotrek said.

  ‘Nothing,’ Felix said hastily. ‘Just some dust in my throat.’ He peered through a gaping crack in the statue and saw the not-so-distant shapes of the sentries. They were, like all Chaos marauders, big and bulky and one had a large, brass-banded war-horn dangling from a strap across his shoulder. He could not make out their expressions, despite the flickering light of the half-dozen watch-fires they’d lit around them at various spots on the bridge. The latter consisted mostly of overturned shields that had been turned into makeshift braziers, piled high with something flammable and set around at certain points.

  ‘I’ll take the one with the horn,’ Gotrek said, heading for the other side of the statue.

  ‘Which means I have to take the other two?’ Felix said, but Gotrek had already vanished. Felix cursed under his breath and moved carefully through the field of rubble that separated him from the sentries. He left his torch behind. There was no need for it, and he didn’t want to attract any undue attention. He moved in quick bursts, scrambling on all fours, his cloak, which was coated in dust from their journey thus far and now less red than brown, draped over him to stop any light from catching on his mail shirt. He stalked the Chaos marauders, keeping his eyes on them at all times and trying not to imagine what sort of horrors might be doing the same to him as he crept through the forest of fallen stones and toppled statues.

  The three warriors grunted to each other in their own barbarous tongue. Two stood and the third sat slumped, occupied in running a whetstone across his sword. As he drew close enough to smell the unwashed stench of them, Felix realized that he would have to step into the light to confront them. Unless…

  Felix undid the clasp on his cloak and slowly pulled it off. Then he snatched up a heavy stone and tossed it back the way he had come. The sound was loud and its result, sudden. The sentry who had been slumped in apparent indifference sat up immediately, eyes narrowed. He barked a question at one of his companions, and the latter hurried towards Felix’s position, a cruel looking axe in his hands. He wore no armour save for fur-covered pauldrons crafted from wolf skulls. Felix pressed himself back against the gloomy brow of a toppled statue, his cloak held in both hands, and his legs and arms tense and trembling as he fought down the queasy anticipation of the next few moments.

  Though he had killed, and often, since he’d become Gotrek’s Remembrancer, this wasn’t the same. It reminded him too much of his last days at the University of Altdorf, Three-Toll Bridge and the Luitpoldstrasse. He remembered the shock of his sword sliding into Wolfgang Krassner’s belly, and the way the other student had folded over and expired. He shook his head, clearing the cobwebs of memory.

  The Chaos marauder stepped past him and Felix flung his cloak over the bigger man’s head. Then, before the warrior could react, Felix twisted the ends of the cloak tight, jerked his captive off-balance and pivoted, dragging the Chaos marauder from his feet and slamming him against the face of the statue. In an eye-blink, Felix had his dagger out and thrust it upwards into his opponent’s heart, burying it to the hilt. Foul air whooshed through the weave of his cloak and washed over him as the Chaos marauder sighed and bent forwards, limp. Felix took the weight on his shoulder and pulled the body out of the way, back deeper into the shadows. He extracted his dagger and absently wiped it clean on his cloak as he pulled it free of the corpse.

  A grunted question echoed among the stones. Felix crouched and waited, his heart thudding in his chest. When he heard no movement, he crept back to his previous position. The two Chaos marauders were peering in his general direction, and both looked distinctly suspicious. The one with the horn began to raise it.

  Out of the darkness behind him, wide hands appeared to either side of his head. The hands snapped shut like the jaws of a trap, catching the sentry’s head in a vice-like grip. With a motion so swift that Felix could barely follow it, the sentry’s head was twisted all the way around in a corkscrew motion. Bones popped and snapped loudly and the remaining sentry whirled, mouth opening. Felix darted from hiding, dagger in hand. He grabbed a handful of the Chaos marauder’s hair and made to cut the man’s throat, but brawny hands grabbed his and he found himself suddenly hurtling over the sentry’s shoulder. He slammed into the ground and Gotrek vaulted over him.

  The Slayer’s meaty paws fastened themselves on the sentry’s windpipe with ferocious accuracy. Cartilage crunched as the man’s eyes bugged out of their sockets. Gotrek hefted the Chaos marauder and wrung his neck as if he were a chicken. After several moments, the Slayer gave a satisfied grunt and let the body flop bonelessly to the ground. ‘Where’s the other?’ he said.

  ‘Back there,’ Felix said.

  ‘Dead?’ Gotrek said.

  ‘Of course,’ Felix said, slightly insulted.

  ‘Good, manling.’ Gotrek grinned at him and Felix felt his gorge rise. For the Slayer, this was little more than an exercise in pest control. Gotrek retrieved his axe from where he’d set it aside and took the war-horn from the dead man’s body.

  ‘Why are you taking that?’ Felix said, swinging his cloak about his shoulders and re-attaching the clasp. ‘Surely it will only alert the enemy.’

  ‘Aye, that’s the plan,’ Gotrek said, starting off towards the entrance to the tunnel that the sentries had been set to guard.

  ‘We have a plan?’ Felix said.

  ‘Of course we have a plan, manling,’ Gotrek said. ‘There’s always a plan.’

  ‘Silly me, I didn’t think “run at them and chop them off at the knees” was a plan,’ Felix muttered.

  ‘Best one there is,’ Gotrek chortled. He waved the horn. ‘But this is a different one.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Aye, in this plan, they run at us,’ Gotrek said. Felix fell silent. The tunnel beyond the bridge was marked by a sturdy portcullis set into the cavern wall, which had long since been blasted to jagged stumps by some fell force. Above it, he could see the squat shapes of blockhouses that projected from the stone like grotesques on a temple wall, such as lined the walls of the frontier forts of the Empire – enclosed boxes that sat atop towers, though these were constructed of stone rather than wood. The tunnel beyond the portcullis was larger than any of the others they had so far traversed, and had all of the appearance of being an ancient entry hall. ‘The Engineers’ Entrance,’ Gotrek hissed. Felix could hear the sound of bestial voices, echoing off the stone.

  Gotrek waved Felix back, and they pressed themselves tight to the wall. Normally, Gotrek was without caution. He was taking this more seriously than normal, Felix knew. Just as he knew that the Slayer was not seeking death, for once. For Gotrek, this was more important than his doom.

  Gotrek cast a wary eye in the direction the noise was emanating from, and then turned to the wall. He muttered to himself in Khazalid, the dwarf tongue, as he ran his hands across the wall. Felix heard a click and then a square of stone, about the right size for a dwarfish door, swung inwards to reveal slabbed stone stairs. Gotrek nodded in satisfaction. He caught Felix’s astonished look and said, ‘We build to last, manling. It’ll be another six centuries before those hinges even start to rust.’

  Felix followed Gotrek up the stairs as the door slid shut behind them. They were plunged into darkness, but only for a moment. A soft glow spread across the stone walls. ‘Glow-moss,’ Gotrek said softly. ‘Watch your step.’

  Felix took the stairs slowly and the going was awkward. They weren’t made with men in mind, and he had to stoop and contort himself to keep up with the Slayer. ‘Where are we going, Gotrek?’

  ‘Up to the old badger-run,’ Gotrek said. ‘When this entrance was first constructed, back before the Engineers’ Guild got their hands on it, it was a strong-point of the Underway. The ironbreakers of Karak Kadrin were stationed here, between delvings. It was built to hold off an army, or contain one, if
the worst happened.’ At the top of the stairs was what Felix assumed was an enclosed parapet, running between the blockhouses. Gotrek led him to one of the blockhouses that overlooked the bridge. Inside, Felix saw two large bolt throwers, one at each corner of the wide opening that marked the front of the structure; each was stationed on a stone dais that he suspected would rotate. Gotrek had no interest in the bolt throwers, however.

  ‘Manling, come here,’ he said. Felix joined him in the centre of the blockhouse, where a heavy wooden lever jutted from the floor. Gotrek gestured to it and said, ‘When I tell you to, throw this.’

  ‘What does it do?’

  ‘It evens the odds,’ Gotrek said. The Slayer stumped to the opening and lifted the horn. Felix realized what he was about to do a moment before the Slayer planted the horn against his lips and blew a winding note out towards the bridge.

  ‘What does that accomplish?’ Felix cried.

  ‘Just do as I tell you, manling,’ Gotrek growled. Then he blew the horn again. The horn was a crude instrument, but the power of the dwarf’s lungs compensated for it. The note was flung out over the bridge, to echo through the vast cavern. And someone below took note. Felix shuddered as he heard more horns howl and then heard the sound of running feet.

  Gotrek flung the horn aside and crouched at the opening, peering down. His one eye glinted in the dim light. He raised a hand, but didn’t look back at Felix. ‘Get ready, manling.’

  Felix set himself. What was Gotrek up to?

  More horns sounded, and the cries of Chaos marauders drifted up towards them. The blockhouse seemed to tremble with the fury of their passage through the entryway below. How many of them were down there? For a moment, Felix thought that Gotrek was counting them, tallying future notches for his axe. It was the sort of thing he thought the Slayer might do.

  ‘Now,’ Gotrek barked and chopped the air with his hand.

  Felix thrust himself against the lever and it moved grudgingly at first, then, as if some massive weight had shifted, it was ripped from his hands and slammed against the floor in the direction he’d been pushing it. The floor trembled. Gotrek gave a bellow of laughter and shook his axe as the sound of ripping stone filled the air and Felix stumbled back, his hands clapped to his ears. ‘What happened?’ he shouted. ‘What did we do?’

  ‘See for yourself, manling!’ Gotrek said. Felix stumbled towards him and peered out over the lip of the opening. Down below, all was chaos. Almost fifty men or more were on the bridge and a cloud of dust had enveloped them. Some were standing while others were lying still, their bodies caught in the explosion of falling rock that had sealed the tunnel beneath his and Gotrek’s feet. Gotrek gazed longingly at the bolt throwers, as if weighing the effort it would take to load them and vent his fury on the men trapped below. Instead he shook his head and left the blockhouse. ‘Come, we need to see to the rest of them before they do whatever it is they’re planning to do.’

  ‘How long will those rocks keep the rest out, you think?’ Felix said, hurrying after him.

  ‘Only dwarfs possess the skill to move those rocks, manling,’ Gotrek said and then frowned. He muttered something in Khazalid.

  ‘What?’ Felix said.

  ‘Nothing,’ Gotrek snapped. ‘Hurry, manling.’ He led Felix across the parapet towards a second set of stairs. These curved downwards and led to a flat landing that looked down into the courtyard below. A further set of stairs led to the latter, but the way out was blocked by what looked to Felix to be a silk screen. He and Gotrek crouched on the landing, the Slayer waving him to silence. ‘Quiet, manling. The rock-cloth will mute any sounds from us, but hounds have keener hearing than men.’

  Felix looked at the rock-cloth and recalled that Gotrek had once mentioned that it was used by dwarf rangers for camouflage when they camped in the hills. It was darker on one side than the other, allowing them to look through it with effort but thanks to the unguents and coarse weave, it would appear to be a part of the surrounding stone if anyone looked at it from the other side. Of course, that didn’t stop the Chaos hounds from sniffing them out, but the beasts were too agitated by the sudden collapse of the tunnel to be curious.

  The chamber beyond was the size of a temple, albeit one that was less the size of the Grand Temple of Sigmar than the Plaza of Saints in Nuln. There were close to thirty Chaos marauders remaining, and they were quickly manhandling baskets and crude-looking iron spheres into position against a large sealed archway as their leader, a bulky monstrous-looking man, bellowed orders in a slobbering tone. Behind them, more Chaos hounds prowled, snuffling eagerly, their grotesque limbs jerking and twitching with feral impatience. Counting those they’d trapped outside, Felix knew they’d only brought around a hundred men. It was small for an assault, but then, how many were really required? Once a hole had been made, how hard would it be to ferry more men inside? Karak Kadrin would be under siege on two fronts.

  More baskets and spheres were set off to the side, guarded by a half-dozen burly Chaos marauders with faces like carved teak and dark scalplocks. They carried hide shields and curved spears or butcher’s blades, with ring-holes punched in the rusty metal to lighten their weight. They were armoured better than the others, and bore themselves like professional killers, albeit nervous ones who seemed ready to face an ambush at any moment. Dust boiled through the chamber, issuing from the tunnel that the rocks had sealed. If the Chaos marauders were wondering at the fate of their comrades, they didn’t show it. Felix supposed that they had grown used to the dwarfs’ mechanical trickery in battle, and so assumed that any unexplained noise was another trap or ambush.

  ‘If they blow open that door, they’ll be into Baragor’s Watch,’ Gotrek growled softly, his eye narrowing as he gauged the distance from the landing to the aperture. One good leap would carry the dwarf through the rock-cloth and into the chamber.

  ‘And we can’t let that happen, can we?’ Felix said, knowing the answer. Gotrek gave him a brief, gap-toothed grin. Then, with a roar, the Slayer pushed himself away from the wall and into the chamber beyond, his axe looping out to sweep the cloth aside.

  Gotrek caught a surprised hound in its arched spine. It screamed and folded, but the Slayer didn’t pause, jerking his axe loose and turning on his heel to send a second blow chopping into a Chaos marauder’s belly. The warrior was lifted from his feet, his cry of agony caught in his collapsing lungs. Gotrek was a hurricane of single-minded destruction, not bothering to kill, only to maim or bludgeon. And as all eyes were drawn to the diminutive killer, Felix took his chance and darted towards the tribesmen setting up their explosives at the archway.

  He didn’t really have a plan, only a vague notion of preventing the explosion for as long as possible. His guts felt like ice as Karaghul hummed through a raised wrist. The blade caught on the bone and Felix was forced to lash out with a boot to dislodge it from the screaming tribesman. He felt a whisper of air on his neck and spun, letting Karaghul slide into the softness of an unarmoured torso.

  Felix felt an iron grip fall on his shoulders and then he was flying through the air. He hit the ground and skidded, all of the wind knocked out of him. A man stalked towards him, big, bigger than he had any right to be, and looking as if he were gripped by some degenerative disease. His flesh rippled with blisters and boiled-looking patches and things moved within the waxy opalescence, like maggots in a wound. He bore no weapon, but his mouth was a nest of fangs.

  Felix scrambled to his feet and gasped as agony flared in his shoulder. It still ached from before and though adrenaline had let him ignore it, he was paying for it now. He shifted Karaghul to his other hand as he backed away from his opponent.

  The man stretched lazily, and Felix felt queasy as bones popped and ligaments squelched. His flesh puckered and thin drizzles of blood dripped from the corners of his mouth. Hooked fingers reached up, grabbing the flesh of his face. Felix saw his belly bulge obscenely beneath his cuirass, followed by his throat, and then his mouth spread impossibly wide
as something evil and red was vomited into the torch-light.

  The man’s flesh slithered down the length of the red-furred form, like the shed skin of a snake. In places, it snagged and tore, leaving gory rags wrapped about the beast’s limbs. It was akin to the Chaos hounds, but larger and darker and even more savagely terrifying. Brass-hued horns jutted from its wolfish skull and the crimson hair that covered it was shot through with patches of brass scales. It stared at Felix in hungry anticipation and then rocked back on its haunches and tilted its muzzle up, releasing a howl that curdled the marrow in Felix’s bones.

  4

  The Worlds Edge Mountains,

  Karak Kadrin

  With a roar, the monster lunged, claws scraping stone even as Felix hurled himself aside. The monster whipped around, yellow eyes opening in its arms and torso, gazing at him with fiery hate. It took a step towards him. Old, half-remembered stories swam to the surface of his mind, scraps of stories told to him by his mother and her maids, of black-souled men that became beasts when the Witch-Moon was high. ‘Sigmar help me,’ he whispered, the words packed with loathing and fear.

  ‘Just another beast, manling,’ Gotrek said.

  The monster turned, and looking past it, Felix saw Gotrek, streaked with blood, gesture with his axe. ‘Leave the manling alone. He owes me a saga, and I’ll not have him eaten before he can pen it.’ The monster howled again and leapt, and Gotrek moved to meet it.

  Felix thrust himself to his feet as Chaos hounds bounded towards him, slavering jaws wide. The Chaos marauders were staying back, save those setting the explosives, letting the beasts have their fun. Breath burning in his lungs, Felix ran towards the archway.

  While he’d been occupied, they’d lit the fuse cord and a spark of flame crawled towards the heap of spheres and jugs. He had to reach it! The moment stretched, impossibly long. He heard Gotrek’s bellow of pain, and a beast’s howl of triumph. Felix lunged, stretching, Karaghul descending. He groaned as he missed and the spark sped out of his reach. Jaws seized his legs and he was wrenched around and dragged back towards a snarling morass of Chaos hounds even as a grimy foot slammed down on the spark, extinguishing it.