Morgil smiled savagely.
‘Not mad,’ he said. ‘The lookouts in the keep have seen something. We must join them – better to die in the open than cooped in a cage.’
With that, the White Lion ran along the parapet to a stone stairway leading down into the courtyard and towards the main gates. Soldiers all over the castle were doing likewise, deserting their station and joining the growing muster below. It wasn’t easy, for there were still cultists in the castle, and the fighting was fierce. But Heinrich had given the order, and his army struggled to obey.
Dieter looked at Alexander for a moment, still disbelieving.
‘Annika’s with him,’ said the knight, taking up his heavy sword. ‘She wouldn’t permit such madness unless there was a good reason, even if he is a lord of the Empire. Something has changed. We have been commanded.’
‘That doesn’t make me feel much better,’ said Alexander.
The two of them hurried along the narrow walkway and joined the flow of men from the walls. They descended quickly and were soon at the gate. Pikemen, halberdiers and archers had been collected together, all that could be gleaned from the fighting all around. Fires still raged, and cultists still pressed against the defenders. But the tide had not turned into a flood. The greater mass of them were still outside the walls.
Heinrich had mounted a charger, and he raised his long-sword aloft.
‘Keep your formations!’ he roared. His previous cold demeanour had been replaced with a savage, dark energy. ‘The tide of battle has turned. Follow me! Trust not what you see, but in the grace of Sigmar!’
He gave the order to open the gate as his troops let out an answering cry of acclamation. The heavy portcullis rose quickly, chains clanking. The opening beyond revealed a scene of total confusion. The cultists near the walls were in disarray. Those in the front ranks caught sight of the opening gate and rushed forward. But those behind indeed seemed distracted by something else.
Heinrich charged forward, his knights close around him. Morgil and Dieter pushed ahead eagerly, the light of battle in their eyes. Alexander kept up as best he could in the jostling, hurrying crowd of men, but was soon separated. In a few moments the sortie had passed the gates and was out in the open. There were enemy soldiers all around them. The drums still rolled, but less fiercely. The air of madness had ebbed. A cultist, his face distorted with hatred, threw himself in Alexander’s path. The man brandished a cruelly spiked club, and whirled it crazily over his head. With a snort of disdain, Alexander swung the foot of his staff upwards. The iron heel caught his assailant on the chin, knocking him on to his back. Alexander strode forward and smashed the shaft hard into the prone man’s face, cracking bone and extinguishing his madness forever.
There was no time to enjoy the kill. Alexander gripped the staff tight, and let a small, bright flame burst into being at his staff-tip. Using it as a firebrand, he waded into the confusion of battle. On his right-hand side, Dieter was clearing a huge path through the ranks of cultists, hammering them into submission, seemingly impervious to harm in his heavy armour. Morgil was causing havoc too. His ferocious speed and sheer brutality far surpassed anything the cultists were capable of mustering, and his axe was dropping them like a scythe through wheat.
As Alexander turned, a blow cracked hard across the back of his neck, and he staggered forwards. A thick wedge of pain coursed through him, and he fell to his knees. Knowing a second blow would quickly fall, he rolled on to his back, raising his staff to intercept it. A club smashed against the wood, jarring the staff along its length and pushing Alexander’s arms against his chest. With a snarl of triumph, a cultist raised his cudgel a third time. The wizard tried to muster fresh magic, but knew it would come too late. With a dreadful certainty, Alexander saw his own death reflected in the eyes of his assailant. He spat defiantly. At least he would go with honour.
Suddenly, the cultist was roughly barged aside. A heavy-set man had burst from the crowd. With a huge heave of his heavily notched sword, he sliced Alexander’s assailant from shoulder to waist, spraying blood in every direction. The cultist screamed, his limbs flailing, before falling in the mud, foaming at the mouth and twitching pathetically. More cultists came forward, but more loyalists appeared too. Some wore the uniforms of Heinrich’s guards. Others looked more like bandits. Where were they coming from?
Alexander clambered to his feet. There was fighting all around. The man who had saved him dispatched another cultist with an expert thrust of his sword, and then turned to face Alexander.
‘You all right?’ he asked, wiping his sweat and mud-spattered brow.
All around them, fresh loyalist troops were piling forward. The cultists were being driven back.
‘Yes, thanks to you,’ said Alexander shakily. ‘But what’s going on? Who are you?’
The man grinned.
‘Emil Schulmann,’ he said. ‘The rescue party.’
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The last of the fires had been put out. Smoke drifted lazily across the churned approaches to the castle. A straggling band of painfully thin peasants moved slowly over the battlefield, stripping the bodies of anything of worth. Heinrich’s forces were either too busy making the castle walls safe, harrying the surviving cultists as they fled south, or surreptitiously doing the same thing themselves. The desperation of plague and war had driven all to extremes.
Inside the castle, a council had hastily been convened. The roof of the great hall had been shattered by several rocks and was partly ruined. The participants met in a chamber deep within the keep, lit only by torches.
A dozen figures sat around a long table. At the head was Lord Heinrich. He had sustained many wounds defending the courtyard, but still looked as severe and forbidding as ever. Beside him were his surviving captains, including a man called Fassbinder. Alexander’s rescuer, Schulmann, sat at the far end of the table, flanked by his own men. He looked decidedly uncomfortable, a mix of belligerence, awkwardness and fear. Annika, Dieter and Morgil were all present. Their deeds during the battle seemed to have earned Heinrich’s grudging respect. But the meeting was not going well. Schulmann’s forces were billeted in the castle, and tension between them and Heinrich’s own troops was high. The lord was clearly itching to see the traitor condemned, but his position was weak. Schulmann had lifted the siege, and now had an army of his own within the castle walls. Matters were delicately poised. Oddly enough, it was Heinrich’s captain Fassbinder who spoke most forcefully on Schulmann’s behalf.
‘My lord,’ said Fassbinder, ‘I know more than most of the crimes this man has committed. I’ve pursued him for weeks. He has killed men of my command, and I have killed men of his. He even had me at his mercy. And yet, despite all this, he agreed to come back with me. If it had not been for him, this castle would now be occupied by the enemy.’
Lord Heinrich looked at him darkly. Alexander didn’t know the full details of what had transpired in the past between Schulmann and Heinrich, but the outline was obvious.
‘What is it that separates the realms of men from the wilderness of Chaos?’ Lord Heinrich asked, his voice low. ‘The law. The code by which we live, and in defence of which we die. Without it, we’re no better than the slavering wretches we’ve just bested.’
The lord turned his baleful gaze to Schulmann, who sat glowering at the far end of the table.
‘You’re a traitor, Schulmann,’ he said, his voice fiery with rage. ‘You’ve killed, pillaged and burned, all in the name of your rebellion. By your actions my realm has been laid open to attack. Companies of my finest troops have been dispatched trying to hunt you down. By the law, your life is forfeit. You’ve earned death a hundred times over.’
Schulmann’s face reddened with rage, and he placed both fists on the table. He looked ready to explode.
‘My lord,’ interjected Fassbinder quickly. ‘Your words are just, as always. But listen, I beg you. When have I ever shirked from duty? Never while in your service. Times are changing.
None of us are safe. While we pursue these quarrels, the enemy draws nearer, untroubled by such divisions. I gave Schulmann my word he would be safe. How else could I have persuaded him to put aside the uprising? I was in his power. He could have chosen to remain at large.’
Lord Heinrich took a deep breath, still looking at Schulmann.
‘So what persuaded you to come back, traitor?’ he said. ‘You must have known there was a price on your head.’
Schulmann wore an expression of disgust.
‘That fool did,’ he said, nodding towards Fassbinder. ‘I curse the day I listened to his words. I must have been weak. Weary of fighting, weary of death. Despite everything you think of me, I’m no traitor. Far from it. It is you, with your iron rule, your hatred of the common folk, who have brought this on yourself. We only fought for our lives. You have no idea, could have no idea, what it’s like in the villages of your realm. Your own people, and you know nothing of them.’
Fassbinder looked down at his hands and didn’t speak. Alexander saw that Annika and Dieter were anxious to contribute. Morgil remained inscrutable as always.
‘Don’t talk to me of the people, traitor,’ spat Heinrich contemptuously. ‘Hard times require hard actions. I’ll not justify myself to you. There’s a war on our doorstep. Without me, there’d be nothing standing in their way at all. If you hadn’t taken leave of your senses, I’d have had twice as many men to defend this place.’
Schulmann was about to blurt out a reply when Annika intervened. She had fought by Heinrich’s side during the defence of the courtyard, and seemed to think she had gained some trust.
‘That may be true, my lord,’ the witch hunter said, her voice measured. ‘But whatever has happened in the past, this man travelled far to raise the siege. He knew his life would be in danger, yet still made the decision to come. That cannot be forgotten, surely?’
Heinrich let a momentary flicker of indecision cross his face. It was soon gone, replaced by the more familiar iron certainty.
‘So, Schulmann,’ he said, ignoring Annika, his voice still acid. ‘You’ve not answered me. What made the difference? I can’t believe Captain Fassbinder, as good a warrior as he is, has such a silver tongue.’
Schulmann reached into his bloodstained shirt and pulled out a ragged collection of scrolls. He threw them across the table contemptuously.
‘These reports,’ he said, bitterly. ‘I couldn’t have read them without Fassbinder. They told us of the coming war, of the traitor in your midst, of the advance of Chaos. I should never have had them translated. I must’ve been mad. For some reason, I let myself be convinced that if you fell, we’d be next.’
Schulmann looked accusingly at Fassbinder.
‘Don’t be so sure he doesn’t have a silver tongue,’ he said caustically. ‘If I’d known what thanks I’d get for putting everything at risk, for leading my men back into penury, I’d never have done it. Better to die an honest death fighting in the field than swinging on a lord’s gibbet.’
At the sight of the scrolls, Alexander felt the blood rise in his cheeks. He sank down slightly in his chair, wishing he could remember that spell of concealment he’d learned as an acolyte. Oh, to be a Grey wizard. Heinrich looked at him with undisguised contempt.
‘I’m aware of the existence of these scrolls,’ the lord said, not bothering to pick them up. ‘Their tidings came here too late to be of any use. But it seems they’ve played some role after all. I’m amazed such vague predictions prompted your change of heart.’
Fassbinder raised his head again.
‘They were just the spark which lit the fire,’ he said. ‘We debated long and hard about the scrolls. He was hard to convince, as you’d expect. Much anger had to be put aside, on both sides.’
He looked over at Schulmann, his expression regretful.
‘I promised him safety and pardon if he returned to your lands. Such a thing was perhaps not in my power. But my life was in his hands, and he behaved honourably to me. When I read the reports of the war to come, predicted by Celestial mages no less, I convinced him that our disagreements were no longer important. Unless we joined forces, we would all die. It was not an easy case to make.’
Dieter, who had remained silent throughout, leaned forward.
‘I, for one, am glad you did, Captain,’ the knight said. ‘Your men fought well. Schulmann’s men fought well. They have all been hardened by combat. I was honoured to stand alongside them.’
He turned to Lord Heinrich.
‘This man Schulmann stands condemned,’ Dieter continued. ‘I will not excuse his actions. But consider this. Without his troops on our side, we would have half the men we have now. Even as we speak they are garrisoned in the castle, cheek by jowl with those who have been pursuing them to the death. If such low-born peasants can put aside their feud in the cause of the Empire, we should ask ourselves why we cannot.’
Schulmann grimaced at the expression ‘low-born’, but kept his mouth shut. No other voices were raised. Heinrich sat for a moment in thought.
‘I would never have thought it,’ he said eventually. ‘A witch hunter, an Imperial knight, a captain of my guard. All pleading leniency for this murderer. The times are strange indeed.’
He sighed deeply, and flexed his hunched shoulders.
‘A lord is not governed by popular vote,’ Heinrich said, a cold smile on his lips. ‘I will not be dictated to in my own castle. Forgiveness is a matter for priests and cuckolds. And yet I am not entirely deaf to reason. You did come back, Schulmann, and if for no other reason than reckless bravery, that deserves to be commended. Moreover, we all know that I am hardly in a position of strength. Your rabble numbers nearly as many as my own men, Fassbinder’s company included. I won’t have blood shed in this castle twice in one day.’
He turned to look at Annika.
‘Witch hunter,’ he said, sounding almost resigned. ‘You are determined to return to the temple, I take it?’
‘Yes, my lord,’ Annika said. ‘I believe it is the true goal of the enemy, the source of all he has been working towards.’
Heinrich nodded.
‘Very well,’ he said. ‘Then this is my verdict. The soldiers of my household will remain in this castle. There is rebuilding to be done. The cultists have been driven off, but not all destroyed. Some remain in the wilds, and more Chaos troops will surely come. You have my leave to head south and retake the temple. If you arrive in time, burn it and all it houses. If you come too late, then contain the threat as best you can and send warning to me and to Altdorf. I have no men left to aid you further.’
He turned his gaze to Schulmann.
‘You’ll go with them,’ Heinrich said. ‘As will Fassbinder. The mere act of your riding to my aid is insufficient atonement for the many crimes you have committed. Prove worthy in this, and we’ll call all debts settled. Sigmar will be the judge of it. If you die, consider it your just sentence. If you live, I’ll grant your pardon.’
Schulmann looked momentarily dumbfounded.
‘Just sentence?’ he asked, looking to his captains on either side of him for support. ‘I have risked everything for this!’
Fassbinder slammed his fist on the table.
‘Now who’s being thick-headed?’ he cried in exasperation. ‘You have been offered a way out. Take it! If what the witch hunter says is true, we’ll all be fighting for a long time to come. Where would you rather be? Hiding out in the fields again, endlessly slaying plague beasts as they creep towards you? Or playing some part in all this? I appealed to your duty before. You’ve never denounced the Emperor, nor your faith in men. Do this thing, with me alongside you, and your honour will be restored. I know what that means to you.’
Schulmann looked startled, then angry, then uncertain. He glared at Heinrich, clearly in two minds, but said nothing. Silence hung over the table. No one broke it.
Eventually, the rebel leader began to laugh. It was a strange, bitter sound. His captains looked on with consternatio
n.
‘I’ll do it,’ Schulmann said suddenly. ‘I’ll play the fool one last time, and trust to your word. If I die, then so be it. But if I live, I’m coming back. And after my pardon, this business between us will not end. I didn’t lead good men into death to return to the old ways once all is done. Things will change, my lord. You may have my word on that too.’
Heinrich looked on stonily, but did not immediately demur.
‘We’ll see,’ he said.
Alexander caught Annika’s gaze from the other side of the table. She raised an eyebrow. Against all the odds, it looked like a settlement had been reached. The wizard took a breath, and gripped the arms of his chair a little more tightly. It was decided. They were going back to the temple.
The wind tore across the bleak country, finding its way into every fold of clothing with icy fingers. Alexander pulled his robes around him tightly. The sun was low on the western horizon, and the dusk was falling fast. They had been marching for three days, and the constant journeying was beginning to wear him down. It seemed like ever since the wizard had left Altdorf, he had been hounded from one battle to another. Now the endgame was approaching, he felt something like relief. They were nearing the temple once more. Either the abomination would be halted here, or they would all perish.
If he was honest, Alexander didn’t give much for their chances. Not for the first time, he wondered whether the whole mission was more about Heinrich ridding himself of an enemy than countering the Chaos threat. Fassbinder and Schulmann’s forces numbered a little over three hundred men. Though all were battle-hardened troops, they had been driven hard over the past few months. Fassbinder’s contingent of State troopers was the more disciplined and well-equipped, but Schulmann’s had a more hard-bitten look about them. Both companies bore the scars of campaign. Given their long history of antipathy, it amazed Alexander that there were not frequent fights between them. In truth, they mostly looked exhausted, with haggard faces and resigned expressions. All had been on the road for too long. Perhaps they simply didn’t have the energy to quarrel.
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