by C. L. Werner
The bricked-up framework that had once housed Emperor Boris’s extravagant Kaiseraugen flanked the former council chamber. The great table of Drakwald wood had been removed, the carved chairs of the council taken away. The raised dais remained, rising on marble blocks from the tile floor, but no mighty throne reposed upon it. Instead there was only a simple stool of horsehide, a bit of furniture that had travelled from Middenheim across the whole of the Empire as Mandred hounded the ratkin from land after land and city after city. It was a relic of his campaign to cleanse the Empire of evil and it was as a symbol of that fight that he had ordered it brought here and set upon the dais. He could think of no more majestic seat from which to watch the final battle.
Emperor Mandred Skavenslayer settled himself on the chair, the Imperial crown upon his brow, the purple robes draped about his shoulders. Across his lap rested Ghal Maraz, behind him Grand Master Vitholf held the Standard of Middenheim while the reinstated Reikmarshal von Boeckenfoerde held the Griffon-Rampant of the Imperial Throne. Between them, its stink subdued by a saturation of perfumes and unguents, was the stretched hide of Great Warlord Vrrmik carried by Captain Aldinger of the Knights of the Black Rose.
All the panoply of Empire surrounded the dais. Mandred’s closest allies were gathered about him, Baroness Carin of Nordland, Arch-Lector Hartwich, even the witch Hulda.
Before him, on bended knee, was Adolf Kreyssig, the Protector of the Empire. The commander of the now disbanded Kaiserjaeger tried his best to present a confident and imperious presence, but he couldn’t quite hide the sweat beading his brow or the tremor in his limbs. He’d been abandoned by all of his friends and allies after his connection to the mutant Beck had been exposed. Only his manservant Fuerst remained with him, bearing his regalia as he was summoned before the new Emperor.
Emperor Mandred didn’t give the murderous villain the dignity of courtly language or politic dialogue. When Kreyssig entered the hall, when he knelt before the dais, Mandred only glared down at the killer. ‘It would give me no greater pleasure than to have you taken from this place and beheaded,’ Mandred told Kreyssig. ‘I would set your head on a spike as a warning to all despots.’
A thin smile crawled onto Kreyssig’s face. He’d been afraid of his standing, afraid that Mandred’s popularity as the Skavenslayer would trump his own popularity as the Hero of Altdorf. Because the new Emperor expressed himself the way he did, Kreyssig felt his fear lessen. Even Mandred appreciated the support Kreyssig enjoyed among the peasants. ‘Kill me, and you will have an uprising on your hands,’ he warned.
Mandred returned Kreyssig’s smile, but it was as cold as a daemon’s grin. ‘I am going to give the people of the Empire too much to do for them to worry about the echoes of old tyrannies. I am going to rebuild this land and make it greater than it has ever been. There will be no place in my Empire for a monster like you.’
Kreyssig rose to his feet, pointed his finger at Mandred. ‘Yet even you do not dare to execute me,’ he snarled.
‘That is because he is leaving that honour to me.’ The words were spoken by the knight who came marching into the hall, resplendent in his shining suit of plate, the tabard of the Emperor’s Champion draped across his chest. At Erich von Kranzbeuhler’s side was the formidable runefang Legbiter. At his other side walked the graceful figure of Princess Erna Thornig. When she lifted her eyes to stare at Kreyssig, she at first looked away. It took her a moment to gaze again at her husband, but when she did, all the fear was gone; the set of her jaw was as firm as that of the knight who stood beside her.
Kreyssig laughed. ‘A whore and her lover!’ he sneered. ‘Truly the Imperial crown has fallen far that such a mongrel should be made Emperor’s Champion! The lie of noble blood proves itself once again. Deeds make nobility, not breeding!’
‘Deeds make monsters too,’ Erich challenged. ‘The Emperor has given me the honour of trying your crimes through combat, Hound of Boris! To me he has bestowed the right of avenging the good men you murdered. Grand Master von Schomberg, Prince Sigdan,’ he glanced aside at Erna. ‘Baron Thornig, your own father-in-law. All the thousands of others who have suffered by your cruelty and tyranny. Their blood calls out for justice!’
‘And they choose an adulterer to wield their blade?’ Kreyssig sneered. He turned his back on Erich and Erna, staring instead at Emperor Mandred. ‘Am I to understand that if I kill this swine I will be granted my life and my liberty?’
‘It is trial by combat,’ Mandred said. ‘The gods themselves will decide. Even an Emperor can’t deny divine judgement.’
Again, Kreyssig laughed. ‘Then I will be leaving your court, Dog of Middenheim!’ he hissed. Snapping his fingers, he motioned Fuerst forwards. Timidly, his retainer handed Kreyssig the sword he carried among the Protector’s other regalia. It was another of the runefangs, one of Legbiter’s sister blades forged in the days of Sigmar for his twelve chieftains. The name of the sword was Beast Slayer, the sword traditionally held by the Elector of Drakwald. With the murder of the last count of that realm, the blade had been passed down to Kreyssig.
‘You see, whoremonger?’ Kreyssig snarled at Erich. ‘We are matched, blade for blade!’ He whipped Beast Slayer from its scabbard, making a grand flourish with it. The muscles in his arm, the arm that had been healed and strengthened by the witchcraft of Baroness von den Linden made the heavy blade feel as light as a feather in his hand. ‘But mine is the greater skill! We’ve crossed blades once before. I would have killed you then but for the meddling of the skaven. This time, no vermin will preserve you.’
Erich glared back at the tyrant. Handing Legbiter’s scabbard to Erna, he advanced towards the gloating Kreyssig. ‘Your wife is anxious to be a widow,’ he hissed as he leapt to the attack.
With contemptuous ease, Kreyssig warded away Erich’s strike. He laughed as he saw the knight reel from the impact of his parry. He hadn’t expected the superhuman vitality behind that swing. Kreyssig laughed again as he saw the righteous confidence drain out of Erich’s eyes. Now the fool understood how things really stood. No divine judgement, no innocent blood crying out for justice. Only skill and strength, qualities that were on Kreyssig’s side.
As he brought Beast Slayer up for a slashing strike at Erich’s shoulder, Kreyssig reeled back, swatting his left hand at the bee that had suddenly flown before his face. The buzzing annoyance harassed him again as he blocked Erich’s riposte, forcing him back.
Kreyssig drove in at his foe, slashing for the knight’s head, rolling Beast Slayer around Legbiter’s intercepting steel and hacking at Erich with a vengeful return for his midsection that he could answer only by retreating back and hastily bringing his blade crosswise against his own hip. Swiftly, Kreyssig brought his sword up, and then Beast Slayer came slashing down once more, this time towards the knight’s leg. Again Erich was forced back. Kreyssig ducked beneath Legbiter as the runefang came flashing at his head.
Viciously, Kreyssig whipped his blade at the overextended knight’s belly. With an awkward twist of his body, Erich pulled himself back, the enchanted edge of Beast Slayer raking across his armour, knifing through it as though it were made of cheese and leaving a deep gash in the steel plate. Again, he retreated before Kreyssig’s assault, narrowly intercepting another strike at his head.
Kreyssig smiled. Each step he forced Erich back drove the knight closer to the bricked-up window. Once his foe’s back was to the wall, the mobility that had preserved him thus far would be lost. He saw the mounting panic in Erich’s face, knew that the knight also appreciated his predicament and how swiftly it would plunge him into disaster.
Erich caught the downward sweep of Kreyssig’s sword, fending off Beast Slayer with a rolling twist that spun his enemy’s body around. Snarling his fury, he pressed the attack, slashing at the villain’s knees. Kreyssig jumped the scything sweep of Legbiter, the toes of his boots just clearing the runefang’s keen edge. The savage chop he direc
ted at the knight’s skull was fended off only by Erich’s sudden shift to the left, Beast Slayer’s edge coming so near that the wind of its passing tousled the man’s hair.
Erich lunged at Kreyssig, thrusting Legbiter at him in a long drive. His adversary blocked the runefang, but found his shoulder seized by the knight’s other hand. Using the momentum of his attack, Erich threw his weight behind the clutching fingers. Kreyssig became a fulcrum, propelling Erich forwards while spinning the villain back. In an instant, their positions were reversed. Now it was the former Commander of the Kaiserjaeger who had his back to the wall.
Snarling in outrage, Kreyssig slashed at his foe. Rage replaced caution and no longer did he try to conserve his strength and wear down his enemy. Instead he threw the full might of his sorcerously strengthened arm behind the attack. Beast Slayer crashed against Legbiter once more, but this time Erich’s parry was swatted aside with a humiliating ease. The knight staggered back, reeling from the power behind Kreyssig’s renewed assault.
Abruptly, a sharp pain flashed up Kreyssig’s sword arm. Risking a glance, taking his eyes from his enemy for the briefest instant, he gazed upon impossibility. The harassing bee had thrust itself between the links of mail at his elbow, stabbing its stinger deep into his flesh. The deliberateness and intelligence of the attack sent horror rushing through his mind. Baroness von den Linden, the witch he had murdered in Boris’s apiary – in what shape might her curse be visited upon him?
Erich’s renewed attack drove Kreyssig back. The superhuman strength of his arm was deserting him, boiling away as the bee’s venom infected his veins. Beast Slayer became a ponderous weight in his hand. He could almost feel his arm withering inside his armour, shrivelling back into the withered limb Baroness von den Linden’s magic had healed.
When the finish came, when Legbiter’s edge came cleaving down into his skull, Kreyssig couldn’t even raise his sword. He had been called the Hound of Boris by his enemies and like a dog he died upon the floor of the Imperial Palace.
Erich stared down at the dead despot. Leaving Legbiter buried in Kreyssig’s skull, he embraced Erna as she came rushing to him. ‘Now we have each killed a monster,’ he whispered to her as he held her close to him.
Behind them, on the dais, Emperor Mandred rose to his feet and brought his hands together in applause, an applause that was soon echoed by the rest of his court.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
C L Werner’s Black Library credits include the Space Marine Battles novel The Siege of Castellax, Mathias Thulmann: Witch Hunter, Runefang, the Brunner the Bounty Hunter trilogy, the Thanquol and Boneripper series and Time of Legends: The Black Plague. Currently living in the American south-west, he continues to write stories of mayhem and madness set in the worlds of Warhammer and Warhammer 40,000. He claims that he was a diseased servant of the Horned Rat long before his first story was ever published.
For Robert – Something to read in hopefully much nicer surroundings than a foxhole or PX
A BLACK LIBRARY PUBLICATION
Published in 2014 by Black Library, Games Workshop Ltd., Willow Road, Nottingham, NG7 2WS, UK
Cover illustration by Fares Maese.
Map by Nuala Kennedy
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ISBN 978-1-78251-342-1
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