The Blackhearts Omnibus (Tainted Blood)

by Warhammer

  They carried the waystone up the steps past the storeroom level to the kitchens. Reiner called a halt in the dark stairwell and looked down the long kitchen corridor, which had just as much traffic as before.

  'We'll brass it out again,' said Reiner. 'Make out it's a dying man. Ready?'

  But just then Danziger and Scharnholt's voices echoed up the stairs from below. Reiner could only hear snatches of words.

  '...killed these too?' Scharnholt was shouting.

  '...Hetzau must be...' Danziger was screaming.

  'Curse it!' said Reiner. 'They've found our trick too soon. Hurry.'

  They hurried down the kitchen passage, Reiner shouting, 'Make way! This man is dying! Stand aside!'

  The cooks and serving maids scurried out of their way. Reiner thought he heard a rumble of running boots behind them, but it might have been his imagination. They turned right and passed the laundry, not bothering now to be silent, and Reiner saw the women look up disinterestedly. They had to tiptoe the last twenty yards to the store room, because the guardroom was just around the corner.

  They were almost at the door when Reiner heard running boots again, and this time he was certain it wasn't his imagination. He let go of Franka and hurried ahead, fishing in his pouch for the storeroom key. He unlocked the door as quietly as he could and opened it.

  'Did some men pass here?' came Scharnholt's voice. 'Carrying something?'

  'Oh aye, m'lord,' a laundress replied. 'Just now.'

  As the boot steps resumed, the Blackhearts angled around to walk the waystone through the door. They stopped short. The carrying spears were wider than the door.

  Reiner cursed. 'Tip it!' he whispered. 'Pavel's side down! Hals's side up!'

  Darius, Jergen and Pavel lowered their spear-ends almost to the floor, while Dieter, Gert and Hals struggled to raise theirs over their heads. Reiner helped Darius, who looked about to drop his end. In this awkward arrangement they walked forward again. Pavel's spear-butt just caught the edge of the door.

  'Left!' he hissed.

  The party waddled a few inches left. Reiner thought his back would break. The boots were closing in. Reiner could see torchlight reflecting from the right.

  'Now ahead.'

  They started forward again, and this time just cleared the jam. The end of Reiner's spear juddered noisily along the ground and he strained to hold it up.

  'On! On!' he breathed.

  They continued forward, tripping over the casket. The bound guard gave a muffled cry as someone stepped on him. The Blackhearts set the stone down, grunting and hissing, and Reiner spun to close the door behind them. He fumbled his fingers under the door handle in the dark, but found no keyhole. It couldn't be locked from inside.

  'Jergen. Gert. Here!'

  Reiner heard Jergen and Gert feeling their way forward. The boots passed by outside. Reiner held his breath.

  'You men,' came Scharnholt's voice. 'Have any men passed here, carrying a heavy burden?'

  'No, m'lord,' said a voice from the guardroom.

  Scharnholt cursed. 'Have we lost them? We must go back. Cultists have stolen a valuable relic from the vault!' he called to the guards. 'Let none pass unquestioned!'

  'Aye, m'lord!'

  Sounds of commotion came from the guardroom as the boots turned in the hall.

  Reiner leaned in to Jergen and Gert. 'Push on the door.'

  Jergen and Gert pressed their shoulders against the door with Reiner. Reiner felt pressure on the door as someone shook the handle.

  'Locked,' said a voice, and the boots moved on.

  Reiner waited until they had faded completely and the men in the guardroom had run off before he relaxed his pressure on the door.

  'Right,' he said. 'Let's have a light.'

  Hals lit Reiner's long-handled priest torch and they got to work - untying the covered waystone and putting it in the casket, then struggling once again into the black priest's robes while the gagged guard glared balefully at them from where he lay beside the dead, mutated sergeant.

  'Where's the arm?' asked Reiner.

  Darius held out the long, lumpy packet, wrinkling his nose. Reiner took it and stepped to the casket. He threaded a length of rope around the waystone at shoulder height then unrolled the packet, revealing a decaying, mutated arm with seven long sucker-tipped fingers. The stench of death rolled up from it in a solid wave, making them all gag. Reiner's eyes watered.

  Wrapping his hands in a blanket from the storeroom shelves, he tied the arm to the waystone, so it looked like it had sprouted one greenish limb. The others draped more blankets over the carpet-wrapped waystone, making sure all of it was hidden, but leaving the arm exposed.

  'There,' he said, standing. 'Now the final touch.'

  He picked up the blanket with which he had handled the arm as Dieter continued fussing with the blankets. He stepped to Gert. The crossbowman shied away.

  'What are you doing?' he cried.

  'Shhh! You fool!' said Reiner. 'Hold still.'

  As Gert cringed, Reiner wiped the blanket's slimy residue on his robe. He repeated the process with each of them and finished with himself. The reek was inescapable. 'Now we're ready. Lift it up.'

  He listened at the door as Dieter closed the casket and the Blackhearts raised it. There were sounds of excitement and alarm coming from all over the manor, but none directly outside the door. He opened it and edged around the corner. The barracks room was deserted.

  He hurried back and took up his torch. 'Right, ready.'

  The Blackhearts walked out, the casket between them. Reiner locked the door behind them. 'Slow and dignified,' he said. 'The best way to be caught is to look like we're running.'

  They were stopped as soon as they left the barrel keep and entered the modern part of the manor again. A sergeant of the guard with ten men at his back saw them coming out of a stairwell and raised his palm.

  'Halt!' he said, striding forward, then stopped as if he had run into a wall. He backed off, covering his mouth and making the sign of the hammer. 'Death of Sigmar, what a reek!' he choked.

  Reiner bowed. 'My apologies, sergeant. The corpse was in an advanced state of decay. It was being eaten by its own mutations.'

  'Never mind that,' said the sergeant, as his men edged back unhappily. 'Where is your escort?'

  'Er, he ran off, sir,' said Reiner. 'There was some uproar while we were fetching the body. He went to see what it was and never came back. Would you provide us with another? We seem to be lost.'

  'Let me see your order of removal,' said the sergeant.

  Reiner pulled it from his sleeve and stepped to the sergeant.

  'Stay where you are!' The sergeant cried. He snatched the paper from Reiner's fingers and backed away to read it. He glanced unhappily at the casket. 'Er, I'll have to look inside. There's been a theft.'

  'It's not a pretty sight sir,' said Reiner. 'He is much changed.'

  'Open it, curse you.'

  Reiner shrugged. 'Very well.'

  He lifted the lid. The smell of death poured from it in a cloud. The sergeant retreated, gagging, then inched forward again. The suckered fingers of the rotting arm stuck up over the lip of the casket. They crawled with flies.

  The sergeant retched. 'Sigmar preserve us!'

  'Shall I pull back the blanket so you may see the face?' asked Reiner.

  'Don't you dare!' The sergeant was furious. 'What is the matter with you, priest! Why did you wait so long to come! You endanger the whole manor! We might all catch the madness! Take it out! Hurry!'

  'But sergeant,' whined Reiner. 'We have no escort. How are we to hurry when we will be stopped and asked to expose the body at every step?'

  The sergeant's jaw clenched and unclenched. At last he growled. 'Right. Follow us. But stay far back, you hear me? Far back!'

  'Of course, sergeant.'

  The Blackhearts fell in behind the guards and followed them through the manor. Reiner crossed his fingers. With Ranald's luck, this was the last hur
dle. The sergeant would walk them out and they would be free. But as they stepped out into the forecourt and approached the gate, Reiner saw von Pfaltzen and Danziger standing by it, talking with the chief gate guard.

  'Heads down, lads,' Reiner whispered, and pulled his hood down over his eyes. The Blackhearts looked at their feet.

  'No one is to leave the grounds,' von Pfaltzen was saying. 'No one, you understand. The thieves are still within. You will hold all visitors here until they are found.'

  The chief gate guard saluted. 'Aye, sir.'

  'I volunteer my men to help watch the gate,' said Danziger. 'The thieves may try to make a break.'

  Reiner cursed. Five minutes earlier and they would have been through and gone.

  The gate guard turned as the Blackhearts' escort approached the gate. 'Wait! No one is to go out, sergeant. The priests must bide.'

  'But, captain, the corpse is diseased. It-'

  'No exceptions, sergeant,' said the gate captain. 'Von Pfaltzen's ord-' He stopped as the Blackhearts' smell hit him. 'By Sigmar!'

  'You see,' said the sergeant. 'It isn't safe.'

  'Just a moment,' said von Pfaltzen, stepping forward with Danziger behind him. 'Open the casket.'

  NINETEEN

  There Is Blood To Be Spilled

  The sergeant spread his hands. 'Sir, I have already seen in. I vouch for the contents. It would not be wise...'

  'Open it.'

  Reiner's hands shook as he lifted the lid. Flies buzzed up from within. Here was where he died. There was no escape. Curse Ranald. The old fraud had let him down again. Reiner held his torch high so the lid cast a shadow across the casket's interior and hung his head. Von Pfaltzen grimaced and covered his nose and mouth, but he kept coming, looking steadily into the casket. The torchlight glistened on the slimy arm.

  'You see, captain,' said the sergeant.

  Von Pfaltzen ignored him and reached his sword into the casket. Reiner groaned. It was all over. They were dead. They would be chopped to pieces. Von Pfaltzen prodded the blankets. Reiner expected a hard clink as his sword touched the stone, but the tip sunk in as if into a pillow. Reiner nearly yelped. He was glad for his cowl, for he was gaping like a peasant at a magic show. He heard Darius whimper with relief. Von Pfaltzen prodded again, then coughed and stepped back.

  'Let them out,' he said, waving at the gate captain. 'They cannot stay.'

  The gate captain nodded, relieved, and signalled his men to stand aside and let the Blackhearts out. Reiner led them forward in a daze. He was baffled. What had happened? Had Ranald sent a miracle after all? Had the stone softened? Had some hidden sorcerer caused von Pfaltzen to see what Reiner wanted him to see?

  Reiner did not like the unexplained. And he was almost as frightened by their escape as he was thankful.

  When they were out of earshot of the gate, everyone sighed and cursed.

  'What was that?' said Hals. 'We should be dead.'

  'It was a miracle.' said Pavel.

  'Sorcery.' said Gert. 'Did ye cast a spell, witch?'

  'I am not a witch.' said Darius.

  'It was Sigmar's grace.' said Hals.

  'Or Ranald's.' said Reiner.

  'I only hope the filth didn't damage 'em.' muttered Dieter.

  'Damage what?' asked Reiner.

  Dieter said nothing. Reiner looked back, they were out of sight of the gate. There was a side street just ahead. 'Turn in there.' he said. 'And set it down.'

  The Blackhearts angled into the side street and set the heavy casket down with groans of relief.

  'Don't get any ideas I'll share.' said Dieter. 'I stole 'em fair and square.'

  Reiner threw open the casket and flipped aside the blanket where von Pfaltzen had poked. Rolls of stiff canvas had been tucked down next to the stone. Reiner pulled them out.

  'Easy, easy!' said Dieter, sharp.

  Reiner uncurled the rolls and found that they were four paintings by famous masters, cut from their frames, which had been stacked with the others in the vault. There was a hole at the same spot on each painting.

  'There!' said Dieter, disgusted. 'Cursed jagger ruined them with his poking. That was a fortune that was. Now they're worthless!'

  'They saved our lives.' said Darius. 'I don't call that worthless.'

  Dieter snorted.

  Reiner re-rolled the paintings and stuffed them back under the blanket. 'Right.' he said. 'One more gate and we're free. Off we go.'

  The Blackhearts passed through the Manor district gate with no difficulties, and made their way to the sewers and then the catacombs below them. It was a slow, silent trip. Slow because Reiner wanted to give Augustus as much time to get to the authorities as he could. It was quiet because, except for participating in the occasional argument about which was the right path, Reiner didn't care to speak for fear of saying something which might give away their ruse.

  It seemed the others felt the same. Franka stumbled along like a sleepwalker, staring blankly ahead. It broke Reiner's heart to see her. He wanted more than anything to let her in on the trick, but he couldn't. His greatest fear was that she would run, but she seemed too stunned. His second greatest fear - after they had made several wrong turnings and had had to double back - was that Augustus would not remember the way either and lead their rescuers in circles in the catacombs while the dark elf destroyed the stone.

  At last they came to the huge, glittering cave with the bridge over the chasm at one end, and the cyclopean arch at the other. The mutants came out of their hovels to surround them, even more deformed than before, and carried them, like a sea carries a bottle, into the chamber with the cages and the stone circle.

  Valaris was waiting for them. In the days since they had left him he had built a home for himself. Beautiful if mismatched tables and chairs, vases and tapestries, all scavenged by his twisted slaves, were arranged against one wall. He had even managed to find a magnificent canopied bed in which to sleep.

  To the right of this was a grand oak throne, and from this he rose to greet them, a wry smile on his cruel lips as they set down the casket.

  'My friends,' he said. 'Your adventures have provided me with more amusement than a year's worth of blood sport. And had the success of your enterprise not meant so much to me, and the news that I had failed to kill Teclis not angered me, I would have laughed all the harder.'

  He looked at Reiner with something akin to fondness. 'You in particular, captain, twisted more prettily than a snake pinned by a spear. So many times did I give up on you, so many times did I come within a hair's breadth of allowing your master to murder you before murdering him in turn, when suddenly you would pull an escape out of thin air and I would relent in order to see what fresh comedy was in store.' He chuckled. 'Never have I seen a man more torn between following his conscience or saving his own skin. For though you protest otherwise, I know you are not entirely the rogue you play, and your internal struggle was as entertaining as your fight with the Imperials. Thankfully your venality has won out at last, as I knew it would, and I was treated to the high drama and low farce that was the murder of your comrade. Beautiful. I almost wish...' He looked wistfully at them, then shrugged. 'But no, it is impossible. Khaine needs strong, pure blood in order to unmake the waystone.'

  'Khaine needs... blood?' said Reiner, the brief flash of triumph in the knowledge that he had fooled the elf dying as he realised the elf had tricked him too.'Our blood?'

  'Yes,' said Valaris. 'The mutants are too diseased. Their blood would be an insult.'

  'But, Lord Valaris,' said Reiner, though he knew it was hopeless. 'You promised us our lives. You promised that we would go free with Count Manfred if we procured you the stone. It is the only reason we agreed to do it.'

  'Naturally, I promised,' said Valaris, shrugging. 'Would you concern yourself with a promise made to a dog, no matter how clever its tricks?' He motioned to his slaves. 'Bring out the prisoner and tie them all to the stones. We will proceed at once.'

  'Ye fish-belly co
zener,' snarled Hals. 'Ye twist-tongued cheat!'

  'Coward!' shouted Pavel. 'Tell yer dirty pets to stand off and face me sword to spear. I'll gut ye where ye stand.'

  'But, lord,' said Reiner desperately. 'Our blood is tainted as well. Will Khaine accept poisoned blood?'

  Valaris smiled. 'Khaine's sacrifices often die by poison.'

  Manfred was led, blinking, out of one of the cages. He was gaunt and wild looking, his hair and beard matted and his clothes bedraggled and grimy.

  His miserable expression changed to one of joy as he saw Reiner. 'By Sigmar,' he said, amazed. 'Have you done it? Have you freed me at last?'

  Reiner laughed as the mutants dragged the Blackhearts to the tall basalt stones. 'No, m'lord. You have doomed us. The elf does not honour his bargain.' He wanted to add 'unless Augustus brings our rescue,' but even now he didn't dare speak, for fear of giving the dark elf warning.

  'What!' cried Manfred, looking at Valaris. 'You devious deceiver! How dare you! I am a count of the Empire!'

  Valaris was directing his slaves as they took the waystone from the casket, and ignored Manfred.

  'Come, m'lord,' said Reiner. 'You of all people should not be surprised by treachery.'

  The mutants began to tie the Blackhearts tightly, if inexpertly, at chest and waist in coils of filthy rope, trapping their hands. Manfred was tied to the stone to Reiner's right. Franka was tied to his left.

  'Franka,' Reiner whispered, but she only stared ahead.

  When his slaves had raised the waystone on the central altar and withdrawn to the walls of the chamber, Valaris drew his dagger and approached Reiner. Reiner tensed, thinking this was the end, but instead of plunging the knife into his chest, instead Valaris gripped his wrist and cut out the sliver of crystal, flicking it carelessly to the ground. Instantly, the whispering warpstone buzz filled Reiner's mind again.

  The dark elf moved around the circle, removing the crystals from each of them. When he had finished, he stripped to the waist, revealing a dead white, whipcord torso, and a blue crystal - mother to their slivers - on a chain around his neck. He began a chant, harsh and sibilant, while cutting himself at seven well-scarred points on his chest. He touched a finger to each of the wounds, then began to daub strange symbols across his chest and down his arms.