He was deep underground in a chamber in a ruined dwarf citadel, somewhere deep in the Chaos Wastes. And he had a hangover. Surely there were few worse fates that could befall a mortal man, he told himself. He pulled himself up off the sumptuous but rather fusty smelling and too short bed, pulled on his boots and strode out into the corridor to find something that would settle his stomach. As he did so, he was greeted by one of the king’s armoured guards who informed him that his presence was required in the throne room. Immediately.
Felix realised that he had indeed found a worse fate. Not only was he stuck in this terrible place but he had to face an old and irascible dwarfish tyrant on an empty stomach. Stifling a groan he followed the guard.
“We cannot leave this place,” said King Thangrim Firebeard. There are too many of us. According to what you have told me there is not enough room in your ship for more than an extra dozen people at most. There are several hundred of my people here. It would be unfair to chose some to go and some to stay.”
Felix had to admit the old dwarf had a point. He had arrived in the ruler’s chamber only to find the others already being grilled by the old despot. Apparently Varek had suggested that the people of Karag Dum should leave their ancestral home. Thangrim had raised a few cogent objections.
“It would only be a temporary measure, your majesty,” Varek said. “Once we had flown those people back to the Lonely Tower we could return with a skeleton crew and take more. We could continue to ferry them back until we had taken everyone. It is possible.”
“Maybe. But you have told me that even flying across the Chaos Wastes is perilous. Perhaps your ship will crash.”
“Surely, your majesty remaining here with the forces of Chaos pounding upon your doors is more perilous. It is only a matter of time before you are hunted down and destroyed.” Varek was becoming impassioned and flustered. His eyes were large and round behind the lenses of his glasses.
“You do not understand, youngling. We have here wives and wounded. We cannot simply abandon them or send them away with but a small escort. You know how perilous the halls are. You have seen them. It would take many warriors to guard them, and there is not enough room on your ship for them and the escort.”
“The escort could return to your halls,” Varek said. “They are warriors. They have done this before.”
“Your point is a fair one but eventually we would have to move our ancestral hoards. These are no small treasures, and not a gold piece or trinket will I leave behind for the despoilers.”
Felix spoke up for the first time. “But surely gold means nothing when the lives of your people are concerned, your majesty.”
Every dwarf present looked at him as if he was either deranged or profoundly stupid. No one even bothered to answer him. Felix wished the floor would open up and swallow him. He should have known better than to try and make such a rational argument to dwarfs when gold was being discussed.
“Could we carry away our father’s treasures on your one small ship?” Thangrim asked.
“From what I have heard about your hoard, may it ever grow and prosper, I doubt it.”
“Then how can you expect us to leave this place while we have blood left in our veins?”
“Perhaps we could return with more than one airship, great king,” Varek said. “Perhaps we could return with enough craft to carry all your people and all your hoard.”
“If you could, I would see that you were suitably rewarded. Let me think on what you have said. You may go.”
Varek rose to go and Felix moved to join him. He felt a vague sense of relief at being about to leave the king’s presence—and at the prospect of getting some food.
“Thangrim Firebeard,” Gotrek said. “I crave a boon.”
Tell me what it is, Gotrek Gurnisson.”
“I wish to seek out this creature you call the Terror, and either slay it or find my doom.”
King Thangrim smiled down at Gotrek and appeared to consider his request.
At that moment, however, a distant horn sounded. A few heartbeats later a dwarf raced through the entrance of the throne room and advanced at once to the king. Thangrim gestured for the messenger to come closer and then listened to his whispered words. When the new arrival had finished speaking, his face looked grim indeed.
“It appears it will not be necessary for you to seek the monster out, Gotrek Gurnisson. It is coming here now—and it brings with it an army.”
Wonderful, thought Felix, and I haven’t even had a chance to grab my last meal.
NINETEEN
BLOODTHIRSTER
“The hordes of Chaos come again,” King Thangrim said. “Sound the war-horns. We muster for battle.”
The king raised himself from his throne and lifted his great warhammer up high. In that moment Felix could see a glittering aura like lightning playing around the head of the weapon. The air was filled with the smell of ozone.
The king’s guard cheered heartily but Felix sensed a deep uneasiness behind their show of courage.
“This is good,” Gotrek said.
This is very bad, thought Felix, contemplating the oncoming hordes of Chaos, led by a daemon of unspeakable power. He wondered how he could ever have thought things were bad when he got up this morning. All he had to worry about then was a hangover. Now he had much worse things to concern himself with.
The king strode down the steps accompanied by his priests, and made his way out into the hall. His guards fell into step behind him. Outside in the Hall of the Well, dwarf folk were hastily assembling. Warriors rushed out of every entrance. Some buckled on shields and weapons. Others had breastplates half-strapped to their chests and were hastily tightening fastenings as they assembled. As Felix watched, he saw one old warrior jam a helmet onto his head, spit on the floor and make a few practice swipes with his axe. Seeing Felix looking at him, he gave him a thumbs-up sign.
Out of the corner of his eye, Felix saw Hargrim assembling his tunnel fighters. They too were strapping on heavier dwarfish armour. It seemed that the time for stealth was over and now they wanted the heaviest protection they could get. Felix did not blame them. His own chainmail shirt suddenly seemed woefully inadequate when he remembered the vast mass of bestial warriors he had seen during the approach to Karag Dum, and when he thought of the legendary deadliness of the Bloodthirster.
But what else was there to do but fight? He drew his own enchanted blade from the scabbard and strode over to where Hargrim stood. “How did they find us?” he shouted to make himself heard over the din of dwarfs preparing for battle.
“I know not. Perhaps they found the place where we killed its hounds. Mayhap others of his foul pack found our scent What does it matter? It is the Prophesy. The Last Day is upon us.”
“Try not to be so cheerful,” Felix said, and glanced around to see where Gotrek, Snorri and Varek were. He could see the Slayers standing near the king. Varek was nowhere to be seen. Felix wondered where he had gone. He realised that whatever happened in this battle, his place was beside his companions. If nothing else, he knew he had no chance of finding his way out of these halls on his own. Any of the others could probably manage it blindfolded.
On the other hand, he was probably being far too optimistic imagining there would be any chance of escape whatsoever. Snorri and Gotrek would never leave while the Bloodthirster was present, but he doubted that even those two formidable warriors could prevail over so mighty a daemon.
“Good luck!” he shouted to Hargrim and raced over to where the Slayers stood.
“May Grungni, Grimnir and Valaya watch over you, Felix Jaeger,” Hargrim said and returned to bellowing orders to his troops.
Now from out of the access tunnels came the sounds of battle: the brash echo of horns, the clash of weapons, and the bellowing of something hideous echoed down the corridors. The dwarfs had finished their dispositions and their line of battle was drawn up across the Well Hall. There were certainly more dwarfs here than had defended the Lonely Towe
r, but that was not a reassuring thought. Compared to the numbers their attackers could summon, they were pitifully few.
Felix looked up to where King Thangrim stood, carried on a shield held by four bearers. They have breached the outer gate,” said the king. “Our sentries will hold them for a while.”
Looking beyond Thangrim, Felix could see that the women and those too aged and wounded to fight were disappearing through an entrance he had not seen before. Once the last one had gone through, the doorway was sealed behind them, and it was done so cunningly that no sign of the hidden exit remained.
“They go to the vaults with our hoard, to wait out the final battle,” Thangrim said. “If we are victorious they will be freed. If not, they die.”
“What do you mean?”
“The vaults can only be opened from the outside,” Gotrek said. Felix was suddenly glad he had not tried to flee through those doors. He could think of nothing worse than huddling in the gloomy vaults, waiting to die of suffocation or starvation while the battle raged outside. At least out here, he would have some control over his fate, and when death came it would be quick. He hoped.
He could see Varek returning now. The young dwarf had Makaisson’s gun strapped to his chest and carried a bag full of bombs. He moved with a purposefulness that Felix had never seen in him before as he raced up and came to a stop beside Felix.
“Hold this for a moment,” Varek said to Felix and handed him the gun. Felix sheathed his sword and took it, surprised by how heavy it was, and by the ease with which Varek had handled it. Varek produced his book and pen, and began to inscribe a few notes on its pages. Seeing Felix’s astonished look, he said: “Just a last explanation. In case someone comes upon this later. Well, we can but hope, eh?”
Felix forced himself to smile, but it came out shakily. “I suppose so.”
In the distance the clamour reached a peak and then there was a bestial roar of triumph. Felix guessed things had not gone well for the dwarf sentries.
Thangrim had started to shout in dwarfish. Felix could not understand a word he was bellowing but the dwarfs seemed to like it. They cheered him mightily, even Gotrek and Snorri. Only Varek did not add his voice to the resounding chorus, for he was too busy writing.
Felix kept his eyes glued to the doorway through which he knew their foes would come. He knew that several hundred crossbow-toting dwarfs were doing the same thing. But still this did not reassure him. He had an oppressive sense of approaching doom. Fear gripped his heart. A shadow lay on his soul. He knew that something terrible was approaching.
“Bet Snorri kills more beastmen than you, Gotrek,” said Snorri.
Gotrek grunted derisively. The manling will kill more beastmen than you,” Gotrek replied.
“Want to bet on that, Felix?” Snorri asked.
Felix shook his head. His mouth was too dry for him to form a response. Terror had started to take root in his mind, a paralysing fear that shook the foundations of his sanity and made him want to find a dark corner in which to hide himself and whimper. Part of his mind told him that this was unnatural, that he should not feel such fear, but it was still hard to fight against it. There was something in that hideous roaring that turned his blood to water.
“Just remember, Snorri,” Gotrek said. The daemon is mine.”
“Depends if Snorri gets to it first,” said Snorri with a grin.
Felix found he could not bear to look at the entrance anymore so he glanced at Gotrek and Snorri. Even the Slayers were tense, he could tell. Gotrek’s knuckles were white from gripping the haft of his axe so tightly. Snorri’s hand trembled a little where he clutched his axe. Seeing Felix looking at him, he grinned. He appeared to make an effort to calm himself, and the trembling stopped.
“Snorri’s not worried,” Snorri said. “Much.”
Felix grinned back, knowing how unnatural he must look. He felt like the skin of his face was too tight and as if all his hair was trying to stand on end like a Trollslayer’s crest. He was probably pale as death too, he thought.
Suddenly, just for a moment, everything fell silent. In the eerie stillness all Felix could hear was the scratching of Varek’s pen. Then even that stopped and Felix felt a tug on his arm and realised that Varek was asking for his gun back. Felix gave it to him, and unsheathed his sword once more.
The roar which shattered the silence was so loud and so terrifying that Felix almost dropped his blade. He looked up and fought down the urge to soil his britches. The most frightening thing he had ever seen had entered the hall and behind it he could see the leering heads of hundreds of beastmen.
As he gazed on the creature in wonder and in terror, Felix thought: this is what a daemon looks like. This is the incarnate nightmare which had bedevilled my people since time began.
He knew now that there was something magical about the terror the thing inspired. It was the unnatural aura of something which had crept forth from the nethermost pits and which no mortal being could help but sense and respond to. In some ways it hurt the eyes simply to look upon the Bloodthirster. Its very appearance told you it was made from no natural substance. The charnel stink of the thing was worse than anything he could have imagined. It reeked of rotting meat and congealed blood and other less describable and far more loathsome things.
It looked as Hargrim had described it. It was far taller and far heavier than Felix. Vast bat-like wings flexed on its shoulders. It was as muscular as a minotaur. In one hand it held a great coiled whip, in the other a terrifying axe larger than a man’s body. Its skin was ruddy red and its face was savage and bestial. And yet of all the Bloodthirster’s features, it was its eyes which Felix knew he would never forget.
They were like pools of infinite darkness out of which a malign and ageless intelligence gazed. Somewhere in those unknowable depths flickered red fires of savage hatred, an insane ferocity that would overthrow the order of the entire Universe if it could, in order to try and sate a bloodlust that could never be satisfied. Here was a creature that had looked upon the birth and death of worlds, and might look out on the death of everything. Compared to its life, his own existence was less than the life of a mayfly. Compared to its strength and savagery and cunning, he was less than nothing.
And yet looking on, Felix felt his fear start to drain away. After all, embodied terror that it might be, it really was not as bad as he had imagined it would be. It could never be as fearful as the nightmare thing his own brain had been conjuring up mere heartbeats before. It was awe-inspiring, mystical and potent to be sure but he felt now that he had seen it, he could fight it, and glancing at the others he knew that they felt the same. In a way, he was not too sorry to look upon the thing, even if it caused his death. He knew he had now seen something that few men ever would, and there was a certain satisfaction in that. He knew also that he could confront this ultimately fearsome thing and in the end, not be completely daunted.
Then it spoke and the fear returned, redoubled: “I have come to claim my blood debt, King Thangrim, as I said I would.”
Its voice was like a brazen horn, and yet there was something in it that suggested the void, and a cold so chilly that it burned. It was as loud as thunder and yet so perfectly pitched that every word carried exactly the minutely calculated freight of hatred that the daemon intended it to. It was the voice of an angry and vengeful demi-god. Felix could tell that the daemon was not speaking in Reikspiel and yet he could still somehow understand its meaning perfectly, and not for a moment did he doubt that the same was true for the dwarfs.
“You have come to be cast into the pit once more,” King Thangrim said. His voice was clear and deep and resonant but, compared to the Bloodthirster, he sounded like a rebellious child shrieking defiance at an adult.
“I will tear out your heart and eat it before your still-living eyes, just as I promised,” the thing replied. “And not all your little warriors will save you. For every moment of every hour of every day of every year of my waiting I have looked forward to
this day, and now it has arrived.”
As the daemon spoke more and more beastmen and black-armoured warriors filtered into the room behind it, yet not a single dwarf fired a bolt or raised a weapon. There was something hypnotic about the creature and something unbearably fascinating about its confrontation with the ancient dwarf king. Felix wanted to shout a warning, to tell the dwarfs to attack, yet he did not. He was held enthralled by the same spell as held them all, while more and more followers of Chaos flowed in. Thangrim looked as if he wanted to reply, but could not. He looked old and weary and beaten before he started.
“You have lost none of your arrogance, little one, but you are old and feeble now and I… I am stronger than ever I was.”
“You certainly smell that way!” Gotrek roared suddenly.
The daemon’s burning gaze shot towards the Slayer and Felix quailed as for a moment the thing’s eyes rested upon him. It was as if Death itself had looked on him from out of its bony sockets. Felix was astonished that the Slayer managed to hold the daemon’s gaze but somehow he did. After a moment he even managed a feral grin and brandished his axe. The runes along the blade blazed brighter than ever Felix had seen them. Gotrek took his thumb and ran it along the blade. A single bead of blood appeared and the Trollslayer flicked it contemptuously in the direction of the daemon.
“Thirsty?” he inquired. “Try that. It will be all you get today.”
“I will drink every drop of your blood, and I will crack your skull and devour your few brains, and as I do I will consume your soul. You will learn the true meaning of terror.”
“I am learning the true meaning of tedium,” Gotrek said and laughed a grating laugh. “Do you intend to bore me to death with your speeches or do you want to come over here and die?”
[Gotrek & Felix 03] - Daemonslayer Page 27
