For once, his intuitions were wrong. At the sight of his staff, the serried faces in the shadows of the trees whooped and shrieked in mock pleasure. Wherever the little wretches had come from, they weren’t afraid of magic.
Marius felt a guilty pleasure begin to creep up on him. He hadn’t had a chance to stretch himself for a while, and he was feeling fully rested and in the mood to cause some damage. He let the light at the end of his staff diminish and fade. Gripping it tightly in both hands, feeling its solid weight against his palms, he grinned savagely. The magic could wait for a moment. It would be interesting to see how far he could get without it.
The goblins, having gathered together under the briars and low-hanging branches, didn’t waste any time. They ran towards him from all directions, scratchy voices hollering and wailing. They looked crazed, desperate for human flesh to tear at, no fear in their eyes at all.
Marius pondered this as he swung at the nearest one, slamming the scrawny figure against a tree trunk. Its head cracked with a snap against the wood. What was making them so fearless? He stepped back to avoid a thrown dagger and in a fluid movement brought the other end of his staff crunching into the midriff of a cowled goblin creeping up behind him. They must be part of a large horde, he thought, jumping forward to dodge a scimitar thrust, kicking a yelping, long-nosed runt square in the face with his worn leather boot, before thudding the staff into the back of its unprepared colleague. He knew from long experience that the size and fury of the incursion fed the greenskins with a unique energy, so if even these scrawny warriors were prepared to take on a wizard, the main host must be a serious one.
Marius punched another leering face with a controlled movement and spun back away from the bloodied form to protect his back. They were weak, these goblins, but there were a lot of them and they were springing towards him from all directions. Perhaps it was time to use the staff properly.
As he whirled around, flailing at the barking and yammering figures leaping from the branches, he began to mutter an incantation. Almost imperceptibly, the circular movement of his staff began to stir up the leaf matter on the forest floor. He checked his direction, hurling his staff tip in the opposite direction. The length of it hummed slightly as the rhythms of magic began to pulse. The Amber Wind was strong in such a place, so far from the deadening effects of civilisation.
He maintained his chanting, soaking up the energy of the forest, allowing the leaves to swirl faster and higher around him in a vortex of gathering pace. The goblins paused, unsure of what to make of the cloud of leaves rising around their quarry. Then the hoarse laughter started again and they scampered towards him. Their goads and daggers glinted in the emerald glow of the trees, but they soon discovered the leaves flying around them were no longer the limp, dry matter of the woodland floor. As they brushed against the cloaks, tattered hides and skins of the goblins, they slashed and cut, their razor-sharp edges slicing through whatever they touched. In an instant, the triumphant yells of the goblins changed to yowls of fear and pain. Gobbets of thick, dark blood joined the leaves in the vortex.
Marius wanted to shout aloud with pleasure, enjoying the primeval forces surging through him. His powers felt endless. When the Amber Wind caressed his body, he felt able to raise the entire forest against them, drag every stabbing thorn and briar across their faces, pull every curling, crushing root down over their struggling limbs. He felt his heart thumping as he strode forward, and tore the ground under him as he went.
The goblins had no stomach for the fight. Squealing like farm animals, they withdrew, clutching lacerated fingers and eyeless faces, limping and staggering away from the whirling cloud. Slowly, reluctantly, Marius let his power ebb away. The leaves fell to the ground like chaff in an autumn breeze. It was always a mistake to get carried away, the feeling of invincibility as frail and capricious as a dream. The wizards who believed it were the ones who found their spells turning against them.
With a final squeal of indignation, the last runtish goblin warrior hopped and scurried back into the trees. Marius leaned against the bole of a mighty oak, waiting to catch his breath. Casting magic was like drinking: it felt good when doing it, but dreadful after the event. As his senses dulled back towards the drab palette of the real world, he felt the familiar pain of withdrawal course through his body and mind, the hammering ache beginning in his temples, the throb of loss in his limbs.
He waited for the worst to pass, his body limp against the bark behind him, his breath short and shallow. It had always been this way with him: all or nothing. He knew not all wizards felt the same. Some were able to slip in and out of spell casting as easily as fish sliding through river water, coolly plucking their charms out of the air to delight the idiot nobles and ladies who employed them. For better or worse, he was made differently, attuned closely to the rawer side of the magical arts. His natural inclination was to wallow in the enormous powers they gave him rather than paddle in the shallows.
He looked down at his scarred hands. The old wounds criss-crossed his palms like the illuminations of demented scribes. That was the price of his temperament, his inability to let go. He screwed his fingers shut, feeling the shaking in his body begin to subside. Slowly, he pushed himself away from the tree and back onto the forest path. His face set grimly, he started to walk once more. His movements were stiff and halting and his cheerful mood of the morning had dissipated completely. His gait uneven, he began to make his way east, his previous errand now forgotten in the hunt for greenskins. Perhaps killing a few more before the day ended would make him feel better.
* * *
Katerina sat back in the low chair in a bad mood. She had been kept waiting in the general’s antechamber for over an hour. His residence was on the far side of the city from the Amethyst College, and the journey to meet him had been tedious. As she had expected, his quarters were palatial. He showed a marked taste for extravagance, and even the small waiting room was expensively decorated and furnished. If she had been less familiar with the ways of the aristocracy, she might have been intimidated. As it was, the whole charade was faintly boring.
She stole a glance at a curved looking glass in a gilt frame on the wall, and rearranged her hair slightly. The fact she looked even vaguely presentable was testament to her exceptional skills of deception and artistic trickery; thanks to Klaus, she had had only a few hours’ sleep. Calmly, she steeled herself for the trial ahead. Normally, influencing a suggestible noble would be the easiest thing in the world for her, given her long and creditable experience in the field, but as she waited alone in the panelled chamber, the meagre fire burning low in the grate, the oak doors to his study still firmly closed, she was having second thoughts.
Idly, she began to play with the amethyst amulet that hung around her slender neck, admiring once more the spun gold around its glowing heart. The gemstone gave her some comfort, as it always did. Not for the first time, she wondered where it had come from. It was the only thing retrieved from the ruins of her previous life, something that had been with her ever since her earliest days. She knew it had been in her family for as long as anyone could remember. It was a strange thing, she mused, beautiful, but strange.
Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the click of the doors to the study being unlocked from the inside. She sat up straight and hastily arranged her gown around her. When the doors swung open and Erhardt’s adjutant entered the antechamber, she looked as serene and prepared as the Tsarina of Kislev receiving a fresh suitor. The adjutant, a balding, potbellied old man, whose best years of service were firmly behind him, bowed.
“His excellency will see you now, my lady.”
Inwardly, Katerina winced. “Excellency” was a title for diplomats and regents, soldiers did better to avoid such pointless honorifics. Outwardly, she merely nodded gracefully and rose from her position in a single fluid movement. No one but a seer would have known how little sleep she had had, or how little she was looking forward to the upcoming assignment. Followi
ng the adjutant’s direction, she glided into the study beyond. Once she was inside, he withdrew, pulling the doors closed behind him.
Katerina took a moment to absorb her surroundings. The room was large, with a wide bay window overlooking carefully tended gardens. Thick, dark rugs covered the wooden floor, and another fire burned heartily in a large stone fireplace on the wall to her right. The walls were covered with maps, many with lines and notes scrawled across them in charcoal. As in Count von Erlich’s private chamber, piles of parchment and red ribbons cluttered the surfaces of the several desks and reading tables. The walls were darkly panelled, and the few bookcases were stuffed with leather-bound tomes on the art of war and the history of the Empire. Straight ahead, between her and the window, was a huge desk, empty and unoccupied. In front of the fire there were two large armchairs, each upholstered in a thick, luxuriant layer of burgundy-coloured velvet. She raised a mental eyebrow: extravagant, even for a general of Erhardt’s dubious reputation.
As if summoned by her thoughts, a second door to her left opened and the man himself entered the room. He was dressed in black and his garments hung loosely from his slender frame. His hair was black too, drawn back severely from his pale face and heavily greased. For a soldier, his skin seemed strangely smooth and unmarked. He might have been approaching fifty, perhaps younger. He smiled insipidly, extending a thin hand towards her as he entered.
“My lady wizard,” Erhardt said, his voice smooth and diplomatic, “how delightful to see you.”
She proffered her own hand, and the general kissed it.
“The pleasure is all mine, your excellency,” said Katerina curtly, pulling her hand back as soon as she decently could.
Erhardt motioned to the chairs in front of the fire, and she sat. He went over to a small cabinet next to the fire.
“A drink?” he asked, opening the delicately engraved doors to reveal a host of crystalware within.
“Why not?” said Katerina, privately pleased. She could do with one, and it always made her job easier. Erlich returned with two glasses of a dark, powerful-looking wine in immaculate cut crystal goblets and sat opposite her.
“Your good health,” he said, offering a glass to her. Katerina took a refined sip, resisting the urge to gulp the glass down in one. Pleasingly, she noticed Erhardt take a generous helping, the heady liquid bringing an almost instant glow to his cheeks. It all promised to be very simple indeed.
“Now,” said the general, relaxing back into his plush armchair and crossing his feet before the generous fire, “what can I do for you?”
“This appointment may be more about what I can do for you, your excellency,” said Katerina, looking him directly in the eye with a level gaze. “I have information that I feel you’ll want to know about, to be precise, despatches from Helmgart, a citadel in the south that I’m sure you are familiar with. Tiresomely, there’s been an orcish incursion across the Grey Mountains. From the documents I’ve seen, the horde is large. It’s led by a shaman, apparently one of prodigious power. It could, if left unchecked, threaten the Empire. Even though the passes are many miles away, there is not much of note between Helmgart and Altdorf. You can see the danger.”
Erhardt nodded carefully, his expression even, and hard to read.
“How fascinating,” he said. “This is the first I’ve heard of such a thing. How is it that news has reached your ears?”
“My master wishes to protect his sources, naturally,” said Katerina coolly. “Suffice to say that if we hadn’t seen certain documents, they wouldn’t have received the proper attention for some days. You know how it is, officials are such sticklers for procedure, and papers can lie unattended for weeks. With the gravity of the situation in mind, such a delay could be disastrous.”
“I’ve known such things to happen,” said Erhardt wryly, taking a second swig of his wine.
“When my master’s attention was drawn to such dreadful news,” continued Katerina, “he immediately began to worry for the safety of the Empire and the approaches to Altdorf. The greenskins have been known to travel fast when the frenzy is upon them. All of us are at risk. So, his mind greatly disquieted, he asked me to seek out a general on whom the Empire could rely, one with whom the difficult and doubtful task of seeing off the incursion could be safely entrusted. There was only one name on the list, and so I have been sent here to earnestly beg your assistance.”
Erhardt listened intently. The sardonic smile was still on his lips, but Katerina could sense he was flattered.
“I’m immensely gratified in your master’s confidence,” he said, carefully, “but you can see for yourself that this is an important business. Why have you not taken it immediately to the proper authorities?”
Katerina feigned a look of innocent surprise.
“Are you not the most suitable person, given the circumstances?” she asked lightly, running her finger around the lip of her goblet. “A decorated general, a man for whom due process must always come second to duty? Time is short, your Excellency, and it cannot be wasted in the delays of officials. Of course, there are other candidates. I gather Ludwig Schwarzhelm is due back in the city soon; perhaps it would be better to wait until he returns, especially if you would rather defer to seniority?”
Erhardt did his best to conceal his interest, but Katerina could tell he didn’t like that idea. Just like wizards, the rivalry between soldiers was intense. If there was a chance for glory on offer, he would grab it with both hands.
“Don’t be hasty, my dear,” he said, smiling in a sinuous fashion. “You are right to have come to me, and what you say is most interesting. I’m just being cautious. Is there anything more you can tell me?”
Katerina leaned forward conspiratorially, feeling the chain of her amulet slide from her neck, knowing she would be giving Erhardt an enviable view of her exposed d�colletage.
“Well, general,” she said in a low voice, placing her hand lightly on Erhardt’s as he sat opposite her. “We have our suspicions. Not all the masters of the colleges can be entirely trusted. We think a number of our colleagues may have received these tidings some time ago, but have done nothing. There are many strange characters in the ranks of the gifted, and, regrettably, not all have the best interests of the Empire at heart.”
With quiet satisfaction, Katerina noticed Erhardt making an effort to meet her gaze at eye level. His pulse was slightly faster than usual, her gentle suggestiveness, the wine, and the warmth of the fire all contributing. There was no magic in her technique, or not much anyway, but it had the desired effect all the same.
“Why would they have kept such a thing to themselves?” asked Erhardt, his cool facade slipping slightly.
“Because of the shaman, my dear Erhardt,” said Katerina, dropping the title and effortlessly slipping into using his given name. She began, very gently, to exert some pressure on his hand, which he didn’t move. “There are some, including those very high up, whose fascination with magic perhaps outweighs their loyalty to the Emperor. They would dearly love to witness such a monster, to test themselves against it, perhaps even seek to capture it and subject the wretched beast to experimentation. Such a thing cannot be allowed. The incursion must be stopped before it risks the lives of everyone in the capital.”
Erhardt started to nod, before catching himself. He withdrew his hand from Katerina’s and restored his composure.
“Evidently,” he said, uncertainly, “the horde must be stopped before it comes this far. This shaman could wreak havoc if it got close enough to the city. We must act, and act quickly. No doubt it would be prudent to wait for the return of Schwarzhelm, but there is, as you say, a premium on our time.”
Katerina gave him a dazzling smile, one that she had used with great success in the past. This was all going very well, and he was responding just as she had hoped. A little more flattery and her work was done.
“My master knew you were the man for the job,” she said, smoothly, gazing with false admiration into his e
yes. “Of course, given the circumstances, we must keep this between ourselves, the Amethyst College and your forces. The other wizards cannot know of our preparations, it’s not safe. We must raise an army and leave the city as soon as we can. The task will be arduous, but should we succeed the glory will be infinite. We can be frank with one another—we’re both ambitious people. There’s no harm in serving the cause of Sigmar and one’s career at the same time. Think of the glory in leading a victorious returning army, having saved the city from destruction. I can think of no man I would rather be beside in such an endeavour.”
Erhardt raised an eyebrow. “We?” he said, although it looked like the thought was quite attractive to him.
“Why, of course. A shaman, especially one as powerful as we’ve been led to believe, is a tricky proposition. You’ll need a wizard with you to counter it, one with equal skills. I can assure you that mine are… impressive.”
Erhardt suddenly looked hesitant. Katerina cursed herself. Had she laid it on a bit thick?
“I’m sure they are, my dear,” said the general in a low voice, looking thoughtful, “and what you say is very important and interesting.”
He took another large gulp of wine.
“Let me think about it for a moment, my lady. There do need to be certain protocols observed, and then there is the matter of provisions, organisation. This is a serious undertaking.”
The situation seemed to be slipping away. Quickly, feeling things were in the balance, Katerina leaned close to him once more, placing her hand on his again.
“Of course,” she said, her voice low and soothing. “There is a lot to think about, and you have been patient with me. If it were not so important that the matter be resolved quickly by a man of action and integrity, I’d never have been asked to trouble you in such a blunt and forward manner. But having met you, I feel you and I are kindred spirits, possessors of great power who only wish the best for the Empire. We must stick together, you and I. I can see you are a man for whom no undertaking, however arduous, is too large, and I, your excellency, am a woman, who cannot help but find such things attractive. It’s your choice, of course, but I would dearly love to be placed under your command, to serve in whatever way I can. It would be an honour, and a pleasure.”
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