01 - Death's Messenger

by Sandy Mitchell - (ebook by Undead)

  “Here will do.” Rudi crouched down in a small hollow surrounded by trees. It was reasonably sheltered, and would keep out most of the breeze drifting in from the direction of the river. Hanna arranged their collection of sticks, and he reached into his belt pouch for the tinderbox.

  “It’s gone!” The pouch was open, no doubt as a result of his fall from the riverboat. He scrabbled through it, frantically, but it was almost completely empty. The only thing remaining was one of his snare lines, which had somehow become entangled around his belt on its way out of the pouch. “The tinderbox! It’s gone!” He stared at Hanna in horror. Without a fire they’d both be dead by morning.

  “Damn,” Hanna said flatly. She stared at the little pile of sticks, which seemed to be mocking them. Rudi’s mind spun. They had to do something…

  A memory stirred. He’d still had the box when she lit the candle in the cellar of the Jolly Friar. She must have one too, unless she’d been equally unlucky with the river…

  “We’ll have to use yours,” he said. Hanna looked deeply unhappy.

  “I haven’t got one,” she said at last. Rudi looked at her sharply. Something in her tone of voice disturbed him. She sounded wary, frightened almost. This was completely at odds with the self-confident young woman he’d thought he was getting to know.

  “But you must have,” he said. “How else did you light that candle?” Something else occurred to him. “And those fires on the moor? I know I had the box at least once when you did that…”

  “It’s… it’s hard to explain…” she began, then stopped. After a moment she came to a decision. She leaned towards the bundle of firewood, and stretched out a hand. Rudi felt a strange, premonitionary tingle in the base of his spine, and shuddered with something other than the cold.

  A spark appeared suddenly in the middle of the twigs, spreading out with a soft whump! of combustion. Flames grew, taking hold of the sticks, and a warm orange crackle of firelight began to suffuse the hollow. Rudi stared at her, shock and horror pounding through his body. He was trying to keep his face impassive, but it was a losing battle. Hanna looked up, her face illuminated by the flickering flames, her expression somehow both hopeful and defiant. Reading his face, her own hardened.

  “You really are a witch!” The words burst out of him before he could stop them. He had to fight the impulse to back away. Hanna glared contemptuously at him.

  “If you want to believe that, go right ahead. You’re no better than Gerhard.”

  “At least I haven’t murdered anybody!” To his surprise, anger and hurt seemed to be edging out the shock and fear he’d felt at first.

  “Meaning what?” Hanna snapped. “You think I’m a killer too?”

  “No. I meant Gerhard…” Rudi almost choked, finding the right words almost impossible to articulate.

  “Fine.” Hanna was in no mood to argue. “You think I’m a witch then you can just go. See how far you get before you freeze, see if I care!”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Rudi demanded. “All this time… I thought we were friends!”

  “Because I thought you’d react like this,” Hanna snapped. “And don’t tell me you’ve been entirely honest about what happened in the forest that night either.” The accusation took him completely by surprise, not least because it was true. His silence was all the confirmation she needed, and she turned away with a snort of disgust, tugging at the laces of her bodice. The water had hardened the knots, so it took her a moment or two of effort to get them undone. Rudi watched her step out of her skirt in dumbfounded silence.

  “We have to get our clothes dry,” Hanna said, looking back at him through the flickering firelight. “You’ll do the same if you’ve got any sense; I’m not nursing you through a fever if you insist on catching cold.”

  She stripped off her petticoat, the firelight flickering warmly against the curves of her body Rudi knew he was staring, but he just couldn’t help it. Hanna stared levelly back at him through the flames, as self-possessed and intimidating as she’d ever been.

  “Don’t get any ideas, or I’ll toast your nads like chestnuts.” She turned away, hanging her steaming garments on a convenient bush.

  With his head reeling, Rudi followed suit. He did indeed feel warmer once his sodden clothes were discarded. He huddled down close to the fire, staying on the opposite side of it to Hanna, who wrapped her arms around her shins and rested her chin on her knees. With an effort he kept his gaze focussed mostly on her face, although the temptation to let his eyes wander was almost irresistible, and what he’d already seen would be enough to keep his imagination feverishly occupied for some time to come. He wasn’t sure how serious her threat had been, but after what she’d evidently done to the oil lamps in the Jolly Friar he wasn’t keen to put her to the test.

  Some time passed in awkward silence. The moisture dried on his skin, and the warmth of the flames made him feel drowsy.

  “You were right,” he said at last. “I should have told you the truth about what happened in the forest. But I didn’t understand it. And I was afraid you’d… that something like this would come between us.” He looked up, hoping for a response, but her eyes were closed. Slowly she toppled sideways onto the grass, still curled into the foetal position, and began to snore quietly.

  Rudi sighed, and lay down too. But sleep was a long time coming, despite his exhaustion.

  When he woke squinting his eyes against the sunlight striking down out of a clear blue sky, Hanna was already awake and dressed, to his mingled relief and disappointment. She was sitting in almost exactly the same spot, on the opposite side of the fire, which by now had burned down to a small pile of gently glowing embers. He yawned and sat up, turning his back as he did so in a futile attempt to preserve his modesty, and reached for his britches. To his relief they were almost dry, just faintly damp to the touch. He scrambled into his clothes as rapidly as he could.

  “Well at least we don’t smell of fish oil anymore,” he said, trying to make casual conversation, but Hanna refused to respond. She pointed to a small heap of berries on a leaf.

  “I found those while you were asleep. They’re not much, but they’ll have to do.”

  “Thanks.” Rudi took his share gratefully, abruptly aware that he was ravenously hungry. The handful of fruit took the edge off it, but he still felt painfully empty. To take his mind off the discomfort he worked his stiff muscles, wincing as he moved his left arm. His shoulder was marked by a livid bruise where Busch had struck him the previous night.

  “This might help.” Hanna approached him, a little warily, and tucked a handful of moss in the top of his shirt. “Not as much as a proper preparation, but it’ll have to do.”

  “Thank you,” Rudi replied, chafing at the stilted nature of the conversation. Something had come between them and it had eroded the casual intimacy they’d begun to share. He missed it.

  “Well then.” Hanna shrugged. “What do we do now?”

  “Start walking, I suppose,” Rudi said. He looked around the clearing, hoping to find some clue as to the best direction. A flash of silver caught his attention beyond the trees, marking the position of the river. He turned, so it was on his right, and pointed straight ahead. “Marienburg should be that way.”

  “Good a direction as any, I guess,” Hanna conceded, and began to walk away without another word. Rudi broke into a trot to catch up with her.

  “Hanna. Hanna, wait!” He took hold of her arm and she stopped, whirling to face him.

  “Let go of me.” Her voice was menacing, and tight with anger. Rudi opened his hand.

  “We need to talk.”

  “There’s nothing to discuss.” She started walking again, and Rudi fell into step beside her.

  “There’s everything to discuss. Look, I’m sorry I called you a… said what I did last night. I was shocked.”

  “Evidently.” Her tone was as hard as ever, and she didn’t turn her head to look at him.

  “I know you, Hanna. I know
you wouldn’t do anything bad. Couldn’t. You help people. You’re kind and thoughtful, even if you try to hide it sometimes, which is why I like you so much. I believe in you, whatever idiots like Gerhard and the Katzenjammers say.” An edge of desperation was entering his voice now, he knew that, but didn’t care. “I just want to understand. So I know what… who I’m fighting to protect.”

  “I can protect myself.” Despite the words, her voice had softened a little. She turned her head to look at him, and the beginnings of a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Thank you for wanting to, though.”

  “Why wouldn’t I?” He ventured a faint smile of his own. “You’re a very special person.”

  “You’re not exactly ten a penny yourself,” she admitted grudgingly. They walked on in silence for some time. Rudi kept thinking he ought to say something else, to ease the tension that still hung between them, but every time he opened his mouth he thought better of it. Perhaps it was better to say nothing than risk offending her again.

  They’d left the trees some way behind them, and were striding across a knee-high plain of grass, before Hanna spoke again.

  “What do you know about magic?” she asked abruptly. Taken by surprise, Rudi shrugged.

  “Nothing, really. I’ve never met a… a mage before.” Hanna smiled at his choice of words.

  “I’m not a mage either. I just know a couple of simple spells my mother taught me.”

  “I see,” Rudi said. Another thought occurred to him. “So what else can you do?”

  “I can make light.” Hanna waved a hand at the bright, sunlit landscape around them. “Not much point showing you that at the moment. And I can make myself cooler sometimes, when it’s too hot.”

  “And that’s it?” Rudi asked. Hanna nodded.

  “Mostly, yes. Except, sometimes, I can feel the power getting stronger, as though it’s trying to get out of me. That’s scary.”

  “I suppose it must be.” Rudi nodded slowly. “Or maybe it just means you’re getting better at controlling it.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that.” Hanna looked at him, a thoughtful expression on her face. “It’s really good being able to talk to someone about this you know.”

  “What else are friends for?” Rudi said, shrugging.

  “I don’t know. I’ve never really had one before.” She looked a little crestfallen at the thought. Rudi squeezed her hand briefly, sympathetically, and was pleasantly surprised when she tightened her own grip in response.

  “Neither have I. Not like you, anyway.” The silence between them now was more eloquent than words could ever have been.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  They walked for most of the day through a landscape of unvarying monotony. Rudi was reminded of the moor they’d crossed before, but here, on the fertile floodplain of the Reik, the grass was lusher and the patches of tree and scrub more verdant. The ground was more waterlogged too. The grassland gave way to patches of marsh without warning, forcing them further and further away from the banks of the river. Before long it was out of sight completely, except in occasional glimpses. But there was no fear of losing their way, the sky in that direction was the paler blue of reflected water, a constant reminder of the river’s presence.

  Although both he and Hanna chafed impatiently every time they were forced to make another detour, Rudi felt that this might be a good thing after all. If Shenk had spread the news about them at his next port of call, any searchers would be looking for them in the wrong direction. How far downstream Hauptmann’s Landing might be he had no idea, but he was pretty sure they’d come far enough inland to slip past it unobserved by now.

  Another difference to the wasteland they’d traversed before was that this was an area teaming with life. He was pleased to see plenty of evidence of rabbits, but there was a plethora of other game too. The marshes were thronged with waterfowl, none of them species he recognised. On several occasions he saw the distinctive tracks of deer too. Each time this happened he felt a renewed pang of regret for his lost bow.

  As it was they subsisted on the few nuts and berries Hanna recognised as edible, plucking them from bushes as they passed. But each hastily snatched mouthful only emphasised their growing hunger. Even worse was the thirst, which was becoming a permanent torment to them both, but all the water surrounding them was brackish, and to drink it was to risk delirium or worse. As the day wore on, and the sun grew steadily warmer, Rudi grew more and more tempted to risk it. A dark, insistent voice at the back of his mind urged him to quench his thirst at every stinking mud pool they passed. If it hadn’t been for Hanna he might even have succumbed, but the thought of her disgust at such a display was enough to restrain him.

  “It’s no good.” She sank to the ground, which squelched beneath her knees. “I have to rest.”

  “Not here.” Rudi glanced around them. “It isn’t safe.” They were traversing an area of marshland, which at first he’d thought they’d managed to avoid altogether, only after some time had passed had he realised that it was closing in on their left as well, and the day was too far advanced to retrace their steps. Now they were forced to stick to whatever areas of firm ground they could find; they were surrounded on all sides by treacherous patches of almost liquid mud. He pointed to a low grey mound in the distance. “There’s dry land over there. It’s not far.”

  “All right.” Hanna struggled to her feet, as aware as he was of the dangers of being caught out here after dark. She took Rudi’s proffered hand as she rose, but let go of it once she was back on her feet. “I can manage.”

  “I don’t doubt that for a second,” Rudi said, earning a strained grin in reply.

  They stumbled on in the gathering twilight and the mound in the distance growing ever closer. Soon, to his relieved surprise, the going became firmer underfoot.

  “I think we’re through the worst of it,” he said, and Hanna nodded.

  “Just in time, too.”

  The sun was beginning to set, the sky to the left of them a vivid red, as though the clouds were on fire. The world around them was beginning to fade into shades of grey. There was still enough light to make out the large patch of bushes and scrub ahead of them, and as Rudi stared at it he could make out regular lines among the tangle of undergrowth.

  “It’s a ruin of some kind,” he said, surprised. At first he assumed it was another old farmstead, like the one they’d found before, but the closer they got the larger it seemed, until it loomed over them like a temple. “Why would anyone build something that size out here in the middle of nowhere?”

  “Because when they did, it wasn’t.” Hanna ran a hand over the old stonework, which was still remarkably smooth to the touch. The tumbled blocks around it were finely wrought, showing no tool marks at all. “This is old, really old. It must have been here for thousands of years.” Her voice was tinged with awe.

  “Thousands of years?” Rudi couldn’t even imagine a period of time that long. “How can you tell?” Hanna indicated something incised into the surface, strange flowing lines, which he supposed formed words.

  “I think this is elvish. They lived here long before humans, even before Sigmar’s time.”

  “What does it say?” he asked, and Hanna laughed, a sound somewhere between amusement and exasperation.

  “I haven’t a clue. I can only read Reikspiel, not every language under the sun.”

  “Oh.” Rudi tried to hide his disappointment. He’d assumed that being able to read meant that you could read everything, but this clearly wasn’t the case. “How do you know it’s elvish then?”

  “I’m making an educated guess,” Hanna said, clearly irritated by the question. “I know the elves were here in antiquity, and this place is very old. It’s not that hard to make the connection.”

  “But how do you know the elves were here in the first place?” Rudi persisted. Hanna gave him one of her best withering looks.

  “I read it. In a book. In Reikspiel.” She reined in her irritation with
a visible effort. “I’m sorry. I’m tired and hungry, that’s all.”

  “Me too,” Rudi admitted. He pulled his solitary snare line out of his pouch. “I’d better find somewhere to set this before the light goes.”

  “Good idea. I’ll get some brushwood together.” Hanna wandered off to get some firewood, and Rudi went looking for a rabbit run. It took longer than he expected, and he offered up a quick prayer to Taal to provide a coney to fill the trap as he completed the task. His stomach was beginning to knot painfully by this time, and he could only imagine how Hanna was feeling.

  She was waiting for him back at the ruin, her arms full of sticks, and despite the pain in his belly Rudi forced a smile. “You’ve been busy.”

  “It passed the time,” she said, with studied nonchalance. “Where do you think we should camp?” Her face looked strained in the twilight. The moons were not yet high enough to provide much illumination, but the sun was still sufficiently close beyond the horizon to cast a feeble reflected glow against the sky. Despite her best efforts, Hanna’s voice was becoming slurred with fatigue.

  “Perhaps we should try inside,” Rudi suggested, and Hanna nodded.

  “It should be safe. The walls seem pretty solid.” A few moments of exploration along the stonework were enough to reveal a rectangle of solid darkness, which stood out in vivid contrast from the masonry surrounding it. Only then did Rudi realise the stones themselves were glowing softly, reflecting the feeble moonlight.

  “Definitely elvish,” Hanna confirmed when he pointed it out. She regarded the shadowed entrance with thinly disguised apprehension. “We won’t be able to see a thing in there.”

  “I thought you knew a spell for that?” Rudi asked. Hanna looked worried.

  “I do. But casting one makes me tired, even at the best of times. I’m not sure I’ve got the energy after today.”

  “Maybe if I go first,” Rudi suggested, edging closer to the pitch-black entrance. Hanna shook her head impatiently.

  “You don’t know what’s in there. You could fall and break your neck.” She sighed, then screwed up her eyes in an expression of pained concentration. At first Rudi was afraid she’d failed, and stepped forward to support her as she swayed on her feet. But then a pale glow began to form in the air ahead of them, a flickering tongue of yellow fire like the flame of a candle, floating at about head height.