[Blackhearts 02] - The Broken Lance

by Nathan Long - (ebook by Undead)

  “Who the devil is Franka?” grunted Hals as he ducked out after Reiner.

  “Franz, I meant,” said Reiner, and then realized he shouldn’t have. He should have said that Franka was the name of his whore, and he was afraid she was taken. Now Hals would associate the names Franka and Franz, and likely draw unfortunate conclusions. But it was too late to call back the words.

  He pulled himself up onto the cedar-shingled roof and clambered up the steep slope to the peak. “Franz!” There was no sign of the robed men, or Franka, or Hals’ harlot. He turned in a circle, peering out over the low roofs of Brunn.

  “Captain…” said Hals, struggling up the wall.

  “There!” said Reiner, pointing. A tangle of shadows slipped around a corner a few blocks away. In the midst of them Reiner had seen a flash of pale flesh. He leapt down to the first floor roof, then slipped and bounced down the shingles on his posterior before pitching over the edge and landing on his ribs on a pyramid of kegs of finest Averheim ale. He slid down this, groaning and wheezing, and ended up sitting in an icy puddle of what he hoped was water.

  Hals dropped down beside him in a more controlled fashion. “Captain…”

  Reiner staggered up. “No time. We can’t let them get away.” He ran for the street in a half crouch, clutching his bruised ribs and limping. As they came around the front of the brothel they were met by men and harlots spilling out of the door, including Pavel, Giano, Dag, Abel and Gert. Only Jergen and Karel were absent.

  Reiner waved to them. “Follow us, lads. They’ve got Fra… Franz!”

  Reiner started off as quick as his laboured breathing would allow, Hals at his side, in the direction the robed men had gone.

  As they wound through the streets, Hals coughed uncomfortably. “Er, captain…”

  “I know, Hals. I know,” Reiner interrupted, thinking desperately. “I know what it looked like, but I assure you, nothing could be further from the truth. You see, we… er, we meant to play a trick on Karel. The poor boy. I don’t think he’s ever had a woman, so Franz and I thought it would be a good joke to rile him up a bit. Franz would dress up like a woman, you see, and… and make advances, then, when Karel got all hot and bothered, Franz would pull off his wig and we’d see what shades of crimson young Karel could turn. Amusing, hey?”

  “Aye,” said Hals, flatly “And did you mean to dress up as well?”

  “What?” said Reiner. “No, of course not. Who in their right mind would ever mistake me for a woman?”

  Hals nodded, his face a blank. “Then you might want to be wiping yer lips. Y’ve rouge all over ’em.”

  TEN

  They Were Not Men!

  Reiner and the Blackhearts found no trace of Franka, Hals’ harlot, or the robed men, though they searched Brunn from end to end. The kidnappers and their prey had disappeared utterly. Even eerier, when the search party returned to the brothel to see if anyone else had seen anything, they found that the corpse with the furry arms was gone, vanished when no one was looking, though patrons and whores had been in and out of the room constantly. The only evidence that the whole incident hadn’t been some mad fever dream was a small glass ball that Reiner spied under a chair. It looked like the one that had filled the room with smoke, but this one was unbroken, and churned within with a greenish murk. Reiner pocketed it. Combined with the vision of the robed man’s clawed hand, it began to stir memories of things he had read in forbidden books while at university.

  He stepped out of the brothel and joined the other Blackhearts, who were huddled in a circle before the door.

  “We must return to the fort at once,” he said. “I want to tell Gutzmann of Franz’s kidnapping and the new evidence we have about the disappearances.”

  It was obvious to Reiner that Abel had told the others all he had seen when he and Hals had burst in on Reiner and Franka, for none of them would meet his eye, and they answered him with surly grunts and mumbles.

  Reiner cursed inwardly all the long cold walk back to the fort. Foolishness on top of tragedy. Just when he needed them most, when the life of one of their number was in deadly peril, his men had become suspicious, nearly mutinous. The maddening thing was that if he could tell them the truth all would be well again—at least with him. Things would be much worse for Franka. Only Reiner and Manfred knew the girl’s true sex. If it were revealed to anyone else, her usefulness as a soldier would be over, and the count might have her killed. And this didn’t take into consideration the reactions of her comrades. Franka loved Hals, Pavel and Giano like brothers. If they turned their backs on her, it would break her heart.

  Reiner demanded to see Gutzmann as soon as they returned to the camp, but the general was sleeping, and so Reiner must go up the chain of command, telling his story first to Captain Vortmunder, then to Obercaptain Oppenhauer, both of whom would have dismissed his story out of hand if not for the corroboration of his fellows and the strange glass orb. At last, and very reluctantly, they brought him to Commander Shaeder, who was called from his bed, yawning and cross.

  “What is such an emergency that you must wake me at this ungodly hour?” the commander asked as he sat down behind his desk, wrapped in a heavy robe. Vortmunder and Oppenhauer stood on either side of Reiner looking nervous.

  “My lord,” said Reiner, bowing. “Forgive me, but a soldier has been kidnapped, and I fear there are inhuman agents involved that might be a danger to the fort and the Empire.”

  Shaeder pinched the bridge of his nose and waved a weary hand. “Very well, captain, tell your tale.”

  Reiner clicked his heels together. “Thank you, commander. Er, earlier this evening, I and some others, including my valet, Franz, were entertaining ourselves in Brunn….”

  “Whoring and drinking, you mean.”

  “I was indeed visiting with a young lady, commander,” Said Reiner. “But before any, er, business, had occurred, the window flew open and we were attacked by men in masks and robes. My valet, Franz, hearing my calls, ran to my aid, and we fought the men. Patrons of the house came at the noise and helped, but just as we were on the brink of victory the men threw some sort of grenade and we were choked by thick smoke.”

  Reiner thought he saw Shaeder frown at this, but the tic was gone before he could be sure.

  “When the smoke cleared,” Reiner continued, “the men were gone, as was Franz.” He coughed. “One of the ladies of the house was taken as well.”

  “Most distressing, certainly,” said Shaeder, though he didn’t look distressed. “But in what way is a kidnapping in a brothel a danger to the Empire?”

  “I was coming to that, sir,” said Reiner quickly. “One of the masked men was killed in the fight, and I was shocked to see that his hands weren’t hands at all, but claws. Like those of a rat. And his arms…”

  “A rat?” Shaeder guffawed. “A rat did you say? The size of a man?”

  “A little smaller, sir. He…”

  “Do you mean to suggest that you were attacked by, what do the old women call them? By ratkin? By wives’ tales made flesh?” He turned to glare at Oppenhauer and Vortmunder. “What do you mean bringing this nonsense before me? Are you mad?”

  “His story was seconded by several others, commander,” sad Oppenhauer. “And he has evidence.”

  “Evidence?” asked Shaeder. “What evidence?”

  Something in the commander’s voice made Reiner reluctant to bring the orb out of his pouch, but there was nothing for it. Shaeder wouldn’t be convinced without it. Reiner took out the glass ball and placed it on his desk.

  “What is this?” asked the commander, picking it up with reluctant fingers.

  “One of the smoke grenades, my lord,” said Reiner. “The rat-men threw one at the floor and smoke poured out of it when it shattered.”

  Shaeder scowled. “This is a grenade?” He looked up at Oppenhauer. “You let him convince you this was a grenade? This bauble from a harlot’s dress?” He set it on a stack of parchment. “A paperweight, perhaps.”<
br />
  “Commander,” said Reiner, getting angry. “I fought them hand to hand. They were not men!”

  “And how do you know? Did you look under their masks? You had a body, did you not? Why are you showing me a marble instead of a body?”

  “Er,” Reiner flushed. “We left the body behind while in pursuit of the others, who were getting away with Franz. When we returned to the brothel again, it… it was gone.”

  “Gone?”

  “Aye, sir.”

  Shaeder paused for a long moment. It seemed almost that he relaxed. Then abruptly he burst out laughing, a loud, derisive bray that had him wiping his eyes. When he had recovered himself he waved a hand at Reiner. “Go to bed, corporal.”

  “Beg pardon?” said Reiner, confused.

  “Go to bed, sir. Sleep it off.”

  Reiner pulled himself up, indignant. “You don’t believe me sir?”

  “I believe that you are one of those remarkable rascals who shows no outward sign of inebriation while being completely pie-eyed drunk.”

  “Commander,” Reiner protested. “I am telling the…”

  “I’m sure something happened,” Shaeder interrupted. “A brawl, perhaps even a kidnapping. Y’ve wounds enough. But it’s just as likely you fought your reflection in some whore’s mirror and cut yourself on the glass. Whatever happened, I will not muster the Emperor’s might to rescue some Altdorf dandy’s valet, no matter how well he polishes your boots. If the boy doesn’t show up in the morning, I will assign a detail to look for him in the gutters of Brunn, but until then, I’m for bed, as you should be.”

  Reiner balled his fists. “Commander, I do not think this is a threat that should be ignored. I demand to see General Gutzmann. I demand to put my case before him.”

  “You demand, do you?” asked Shaeder. “The next thing you demand will be a week in the brig for insubordination. Now go to bed, sir. I am through with you.” He turned to Vortmunder and Oppenhauer. “And in the future, you will think twice before waking me with such foolishness.”

  “Aye, commander,” said Oppenhauer, saluting. “Thank you, sir.” He and Vortmunder turned with Reiner between them.

  Oppenhauer gave Reiner a sympathetic shrug as they walked out the door. “I believed you, lad,” he said.

  Reiner didn’t sleep that night. All he wanted to do was ride out in search of Franka, but searching in the dark would have been fruitless, particularly on his own, particularly if Franka had been taken where he suspected she had. When dawn finally came, he reported again to Shaeder, begging to be allowed to join the search detail the commander was sending out, but he had refused, telling Reiner to leave the search to men who better knew the town and the pass.

  Reiner couldn’t leave it at that. Shaeder’s men wouldn’t find Franka. They wouldn’t look in the right place. And so, though he knew it might compromise Manfred’s mission to do so, he had failed to report to Vortmunder for his morning duties, and instead sent word through Hals to the others to meet him behind the parade ground stands where they had watched Gutzmann tent-pegging on the first day. This mass dereliction of duty was sure to arouse comment, but the alternative was to leave Franka to her fate, and that was no alternative at all.

  As the men arrived, slouching up in ones and twos, Reiner knew he was in trouble. The suspicion of the previous night hadn’t cleared. In fact it seemed to have grown deeper. Their faces were closed and grim. Even Karel looked troubled.

  “Here it is,” he said when they’d all gathered in the shadow of the viewing stand. “I’ve turned it over in my mind and I believe I know where Franz was taken.” He nodded at Giano. “As much as we’ve ribbed our Tilean friend for smelling ratmen under every rock and cellar floor, I think this time he’s right. Hals and Abel, you saw the body in the brothel last night. I can find no way to deny its nature. Can you?”

  Abel said nothing.

  Hals shrugged. “Not sure what I saw now.”

  Reiner groaned. That didn’t bode well. “Well, what of the glass orb? Every fairy tale I’ve ever heard of ratkin speaks of them using bizarre weapons. What of the stories the miners have been telling about men disappearing? And Giano smelling them in the tunnels?”

  Giano’s eyes glowed. “You believe now?”

  “I don’t know what I believe,” said Reiner. “But be it ratmen or some other horror, I think something lurks in the mine, and I mean to go down and look for Franz.”

  There was a silence. Abel broke it.

  “To look for your beloved, you mean.”

  Reiner’s head snapped up. “What do you say?”

  “Shut yer trap, y’clod,” growled Hals.

  “You speakin’ ill of the captain?” asked Dag, menacingly.

  Karel glared at the man. “You are out of order, quartermaster.”

  Abel looked at them disbelievingly. “Do you still have loyalty to this… this invert? How can you trust him when he’s been hiding his true nature from you all this time?”

  The Blackhearts looked at the ground, uncomfortable.

  Abel sneered. “You saw him last night, with red all over his mouth. We all did. He’d been kissing his ‘boot boy’.”

  “Enough, Halstieg!” cried Karel. He looked to Reiner pleadingly. “Captain. Tell them they’re mistaken!”

  Pavel shifted uncomfortably. “Captain’s a good leader. He ain’t led us wrong.”

  “Hasn’t he?” asked Abel. “Are you happy to be walking around with poison in your veins? Dancing at the mercy of some cagey jagger. Who led you to that?”

  There was a simmering silence.

  “Listen…” said Reiner, but Abel cut him off again.

  “And he certainly ain’t leading you right this time; thinking with his stem instead of his head, asking us to go into some dirty hole that’ll most likely cave in on us. For the good of the mission? Because it will get us home quicker? No. It hasn’t anything to do with what we came here to do. He’s afraid for the life of his precious catamite, and he’ll lead us all to our deaths to save him.”

  “Enough!” barked Reiner. “I’ll not waste time arguing and explaining. I am afraid for Franz, as I would be for any of you.” He shot a glance at Abel. “Even you, quartermaster. And I want to try to find him before he comes to harm. As I would with any of you.” He shrugged. “I won’t order you. I never have. But I’m going down there whether or not you accompany me.” He stood and shouldered the pack of pitch torches he’d gathered. “Who’s with me?”

  “I!” said Giano immediately. “I want all my life to be fighting ratmens.” He stepped to Reiner’s side.

  The rest didn’t move. Reiner looked from one to the other. They hung their heads. He sighed. He hadn’t expected the new men to come with him. They hadn’t fought through the bowels of the Middle Mountains with him. They hadn’t faced down Valnir’s Bane and Albrecht’s mindless army by his side. But when Hals and Pavel wouldn’t meet his eyes it felt as if some giant crushed his heart in his hands.

  “Sorry, captain,” said Gert.

  Dag muttered something under his breath.

  Karel hung his head. “It isn’t part of our mission, captain.”

  Reiner shrugged, then glared at Abel. “The poison with which Manfred cursed us is naught compared with that which you wield.” He turned toward the pass road. “Come, Giano. Let’s be off.”

  As Reiner and Giano walked north toward the mine in the cold morning light, Giano jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Fella want you job, I thinking.”

  And he might get it, thought Reiner, nodding. A tricksy cove, Halstieg. A way with words when he wanted, and a streak of ambition that one might miss at first glance. And no heart at all. Reiner was certain Abel cared not a whit if he loved men, women or goats. He only used the issue to drive a wedge between him and the others, so that he might step in and lead them. The quartermaster was smart enough to know that his survival depended on pleasing Manfred, and if that meant betraying Reiner and proving he was the better man, so be it.
>
  The mine was as busy as ever, and Reiner and Giano had little trouble in wandering through all the chaos to the closed tunnel. The first hundred feet or so were still open, and were used as a storage area for cartwheels and rail ties and supplies. Reiner and Giano wound around the clutter until they came to the barricade, a wall of planks and cross braces that reached from wall to wall and floor to ceiling. It was dark this far from the entrance. Reiner pulled a torch from his pack and lit it from his tinder box. He and Giano examined the wall. A rough door had been cut in it, locked with an enormous iron padlock.

  “Can you pick?” asked Giano.

  “I’m afraid not. My burglar’s tools are cards and dice.” He began pushing on the planks around the door. “But I don’t think we’ll have to.”

  “Hey? For why?”

  “Well,” said Reiner, as he walked down the wall. “If the ratmen are in there, and they come out through here, then they wouldn’t use a door that locked on this side, you see?”

  “Ah! Si. Captain damn smart.”

  “Or perhaps not,” grumbled Reiner as he reached the end of the wall without finding a board that gave. He started back along the wall, looking at the boards once again. There had to be something. He couldn’t allow himself to believe he was wrong. The ratmen had to be here.

  He stopped, frowning. The left edge of one of the boards was grimier than the rest. He reached out and touched the grime. It was oily. He sniffed his finger. It reeked with an animal stench—the same stench the robed men had given off. Reiner’s heart jumped. He took another step down the wall. The next plank was clean, but the one after that had corresponding grime on its right edge. He stepped back. Filthy fur pushing through a narrow opening would leave just such marks.

  He pointed to the plank between the begrimed planks. “This one.” He pushed on it. It didn’t move. But of course not. It would push from the other side. He looked for some way to pull it. There was no handle, or string. But there was a hole—a knot hole near the floor.