Gotrek and Felix: Marriage of Moment

by Josh Reynolds

  He stroked his amulet as he spoke. Felix felt a chill course down his spine at the word, though he couldn’t say why. ‘Jabas,’ Shandeux said, his voice growing more strident. ‘Yes, Jabas, the god of these hills, who first supped upon and then saved our folk and showed them this place, from which they could face the world. Jabas, who led them into wealth. Jabas, whom we honour, even today. For it was Jabas who showed the first Shandy the wealth from which all of this has sprung, and it is Jabas who demands that any who wish to join the Shandy must first pass the test of the god’s bowels.’

  ‘Sounds inviting,’ one of the suitors piped up, causing the others to laugh.

  ‘Oh, it is,’ Shandeux responded, chuckling. ‘Very inviting, but many enter, and few leave. Jabas is a harsh god, and holds fast to what is his, as he taught his followers to do.’ He clapped his hands. ‘Come, your bellies are full, and that is when a halfling is at his best. Let us waste no more time. We begin the test. Soonest done, the sooner my niece is married and we may commence the wedding feast!’ He hopped off the table and swept out of the hall, to the cheers of his folk. Rodrigo and the other guards chivvied the suitors to their feet. More than one seemed reluctant to leave the table. Esme stayed behind. The last Felix saw of her, she was speaking hurriedly and with much agitation to Metternich who looked grim.

  They were led deeper into the fortress, where it stopped being a free-standing structure and instead became part of the crag upon which it perched. They were ushered into a chamber that was more cavern than hall, lit by torches and echoing dimly with the sound of dripping water. Here and there, Felix could see the marks left by tools where the first rulers of this place had shaped it. Set into the thick stone walls was a massive portcullis. Unlike its surroundings, it was only a few centuries old, at best.

  ‘I expected rather more ceremony,’ Felix murmured to Gotrek. ‘I was hoping for a bit more time to come up with a plan.’

  ‘If they were dwarfs, you would have gotten it,’ Gotrek grunted. ‘But halflings hate ceremony almost as much as honest labour. The little rats can barely stand a moment’s recitation before they’re sniffing out food and drink.’

  ‘You don’t like them much, do you?’

  Gotrek looked at him, as if trying to judge whether Felix were serious. Then, he grunted, ‘No.’

  Felix snorted. He wasn’t likely to get more than that from the Slayer, if past conversations were anything to go by. Whatever grudge Gotrek bore the people of the Moot, he wasn’t planning on sharing it.

  ‘Let’s not deceive ourselves,’ Shandeux said, as the suitors fell silent. ‘You’re all here more for Shandy gold than for Shandy women. We know this, and there is no shame in it. Many have come before you, and many will come after. ’ He gestured to the heavy portcullis. ‘Behind this gate lies our vault. It sits, hidden, within the ancient keep that our ancestors used as their home until they built this mighty edifice. Beyond the gate, there are many passages. Only one leads to our wealth. Only a true Shandy, only one judged fit by Jabas, can find it.’ He gestured, and several of his guards set themselves to raising the portcullis. Shandy smiled as a musty, foul wind escaped from the now-open gate and washed across the gathered men and halflings.

  He clasped his hands together piously. ‘Find the gold, and you shall win the hand of my niece, Esme. Fail and, well, you won’t be seeing any gold, I can tell you that.’

  His words were greeted by a nervous twitter.

  ‘What if more than one of us finds it?’ a halfling asked.

  ‘That has never been a problem, in the past,’ Shandy said, grinning in a way that made Felix uneasy. He wanted nothing more than to grab Gotrek and leave, but the dwarf had that look in his eye. The one that said he’d set his course, and was damned if anyone would sway him from it. Guards passed out torches. Weapons were seemingly allowed, which only made Felix more nervous. What was waiting for them in there?

  ‘I take it that you’ll be accompanying your friend, master dwarf?’ Shandy said.

  ‘And if I am?’ Gotrek said.

  Shandy shrugged. ‘It makes no difference. Twelve or thirteen, Jabas will judge you all as he sees fit.’

  ‘Then he’d best do it quickly. I’m the impatient sort,’ Gotrek said, stomping towards the raised portcullis. Felix trailed after him.

  As a group, they and the halflings entered the god’s bowels. The portcullis began to drop back down after they were all through, and the clang of it falling into place echoed through the forecourt they found themselves in. True to Shandy’s claim, there were a number of tunnels beyond. There were more than a dozen, in fact. Some had the look of constructed corridors, while others appeared to have been crudely carved out of the rock of the mountain. He met Gotrek’s gaze. The Slayer eyed the tunnels carefully. The halflings were already splitting up, picking their paths at random, with much jocularity, laughter and vulgarity. Gotrek spat and stuck his finger into his mouth. Pulling it free, he held the wet digit up. ‘That one.’

  ‘Are you certain?’ Gotrek glowered at him and Felix shrugged. ‘I was just asking.’ Gotrek stumped off and Felix hurried after him. They hadn’t gone far when they saw the first of the bones. They weren’t human, though Felix thought at first that they might have belonged to children. ‘Halfling,’ he whispered to Gotrek.

  ‘Like as not,’ Gotrek said. He didn’t seem concerned.

  ‘I think those are teeth marks,’ Felix said, shivering slightly.

  ‘So?’ Gotrek said.

  ‘So, that means there’s something in here with us!’

  ‘Good,’ Gotrek said, tapping his cheek with the flat of his axe. They continued on, the number and variety of bones increasing. And the strange odour grew worse. Felix felt as if he’d inhaled swamp gas. There were strange marks on the corridor walls, as if something had scraped itself on the sides or, in other places, as if something had burnt the stone black. The sensation of danger increased, and Felix grew more and more nervous.

  Then, at a crooked junction, Gotrek paused. ‘Hsst.’ The dwarf held up a hand. ‘I hear something.’

  Felix’s hand fell to his sword-hilt, wondering if one of the other suitors had followed them, hoping to take advantage of the dwarf’s natural inclination for tunnels. If so, the halfling was in for a nasty surprise. Gotrek waved him back, and the Slayer crept forward. Then, with surprising speed, he leapt into an alcove that Felix had missed, and grabbed hold of a tall figure, flinging it to the ground while simultaneously shoving his axe against the throat of a second, smaller figure. ‘Ha! Now I’ve got you!’ the Slayer crowed.

  ‘Gotrek, wait!’ Felix said, raising his torch high to reveal Metternich on the ground and Esme cowering back from Gotrek’s axe.

  ‘What trickery is this?’ Gotrek asked, not lowering his axe.

  ‘No trickery, master dwarf,’ Metternich groaned as he sat up. ‘We came to help. Not that you need it, it seems,’ he added.

  ‘How did you get ahead of us?’ Gotrek snarled.

  ‘And why are you here? This has got to be against the rules,’ Felix said.

  ‘We’re changing the rules,’ Metternich said. ‘And there’s more than one way down here.’

  ‘Stefano is gone,’ Esme said, bluntly.

  ‘Who’s Stefano?’ Felix asked.

  ‘And why should we care?’ Gotrek growled, hefting his axe meaningfully.

  ‘My husband,’ Esme snapped, matching Gotrek’s glare. ‘Or, he will be, if he’s not already dead.’

  ‘I thought you wanted the manling to be your husband,’ Gotrek said.

  ‘Yes,’ Felix said, feeling faintly insulted, if not surprised.

  Esme frowned at Felix. ‘Metternich told me he could get me a man who could win through the god’s bowels,’ she said. ‘It’s never happened. No one has ever made it through. They have either all disappeared or been driven insane. No Shandeux has married an outsider in ov
er ten generations. That’s why we always wind up marrying our cousins. But if someone did make it through, a human, say…’

  Felix pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘You’d be free to marry who you wanted. Because no human would want to marry a halfling,’ he said. ‘Of course.’ He looked at Metternich, who shrugged.

  ‘I only want old Shandy’s map, and whoever won through would split the dowry with Esme. She leaves with Stefano, I get my map, and we all go home happy.’

  ‘Map, what map?’ Felix said.

  ‘That’s my business,’ Metternich snapped, his hand dropping to his knives.

  ‘And I’m making it mine,’ Gotrek said, hefting his axe meaningfully. ‘What map, manling?’

  Metternich licked his lips. ‘Morgheim,’ he said finally. ‘Old Shandy got that gold from somewhere. I don’t buy that bollocks about him finding it in this cave. Rodrigo and the others ride out once a month with Shandeux and come back sometimes with saddlebags full of gold.’ He looked at Esme. ‘Ask her.’

  Felix laughed. ‘Of course,’ he said. ‘I was wondering how a treasure hoard could last five centuries. It didn’t, did it? You’ve been adding to it.’

  Esme made a face. ‘Maybe,’ she said sullenly.

  ‘What do you mean “maybe”?’ Metternich said. ‘You said there was a map. We had an arrangement!’

  ‘Arrangements change,’ Esme bit back. ‘They aren’t set in stone.’

  ‘Only halflings think like that,’ Gotrek said. ‘They’re liars and thieves, manling. My people say that if you shake hands with a halfling, you’d best make sure it doesn’t come back full of turnip.’

  ‘What?’ Felix said.

  ‘It doesn’t translate into the human tongue,’ Gotrek snapped.

  ‘What about Stefano?’ Esme said.

  ‘I don’t care. I want that map,’ Gotrek barked. ‘You can track down your hairy-footed lover yourself.’

  ‘You signed a contract,’ Esme protested.

  ‘And that map is mine,’ Metternich said.

  ‘You deceived us,’ Gotrek said, poking Metternich hard in the chest with a square finger. He grinned nastily. ‘Whatever contract the manling signed is broken. The map or we leave. There’s no doom here, and no treasure worth the trouble.’

  Metternich hesitated. Esme looked at Felix helplessly, but for once he agreed with Gotrek. Whatever problem these folk had, it was none of their affair. He wanted nothing more than to leave as quickly as possible, preferably before anyone realised they were missing. Metternich slumped. ‘Fine,’ he said. ‘We’ll split the map. I could use two strong blades at my back, and better the bravos I know, than ones I don’t, eh?’ He spread his hands helplessly. ‘There’s likely enough gold in the Badlands to see us all very rich men, and dwarfs, of course.’

  Felix thought Gotrek was going to argue further, but before the dwarf could get a word out, a harsh, serpentine rattle filled the musty air. Felix’s hand fell to his sword and he looked about, trying to locate the source of the noise, but to no avail. ‘What is that?’

  Esme, pale and shaking, whispered, ‘Jabas.’

  ‘So there is something down here,’ Gotrek said. ‘What?’

  ‘Jabas is… Jabas,’ Esme said softly.

  Metternich cast nervous looks about. ‘I thought it was just a story the Shandy kept up to keep his folk in line.’

  ‘Jabas is real,’ Esme hissed. ‘It’s real and it’s deadly. That’s why I wanted Metternich to find a warrior! While Jabas lives, my uncle holds us all in thrall. Only the priests know how to get past it, to get to the gold.’ She hesitated, and added, ‘And Stefano, too.’

  ‘Or so he claimed,’ Metternich said sourly. ‘He probably thought he could cut out the middle man, the sneaky little fool.’

  ‘But now he’s missing.’ She grabbed Felix’s arm. ‘I need your help, highboots. I’ll give you anything if you help me get my Stefano back.’

  Before Felix could reply, a scream rang out, echoing through the labyrinth. Metternich cursed and drew one of his blades, and Gotrek raised his axe eagerly. The scream rose in pitch and then, abruptly, ended. Moments later, they heard the thump of feet on stone. Given the strange formation of the stones, the sound carried as clearly as if they were right beside the runner. Another scream came – and this one lasted longer than the others – spiralling up and up, into shuddering heights before it dissolved into a whining cackle that was finally silenced.

  There was a sound like rock being torn from the earth, and scales clattering. At the mouth of the corridor, a small shape darted past, panting with exertion. Their torches flickered and the shape vanished, leaving only a despairing wail to mark its presence. ‘That’s three,’ Felix said hollowly. Small sounds, like the skittering of rats, or the rustling of cloth, suddenly filled the darkness. Metternich spun, shoving his torch all about him, illuminating the corridor.

  ‘What is that? Does anyone see anything?’

  ‘It’s coming from within the wall,’ Gotrek said, pressing his palm to the wall.

  ‘What is it?’ Felix said.

  ‘Rats, maybe,’ Gotrek said. He looked at Esme. ‘Well, lass? What does this Jabas look like?’

  ‘No one has ever seen it, not even the priests. They just know how to avoid it.’

  Gotrek grunted. ‘Could be anything, then,’ he muttered, looking up. He began to tap the wall with the back of his axe, and pressed his ear against the stone as he did so. He stepped back a moment later and said, ‘This way.’

  ‘How can you tell?’ Metternich said suspiciously. Gotrek looked at him. Metternich raised his hands in surrender. ‘Forget I asked. Lead on, master dwarf. I trust your judgement.’

  Gotrek grunted and led the way. They passed through narrow, curving corridors, which seemed to twist and bend with the mountain, and Felix thought that the name Shandy had given these corridors was, while vulgar, appropriate. The torches flickered and dimmed as musty breezes zipped through the corridors, carrying the sound of more skittering and, once or twice, distant screams. The other suitors weren’t faring so well. Jabas, whatever it was, was eating well this night.

  ‘So, this Stefano… he’s your cousin?’ Felix said, more to break the stifling silence than from any burning desire to know.

  Esme shrugged. ‘Probably,’ she said.

  ‘But not the cousin your uncle wants you to marry?’

  ‘No,’ she said. Then, proudly, ‘Stefano has the right number of fingers and toes, you know. That’s why uncle hates him.’

  ‘Really,’ Felix said, bemused.

  ‘Oh yes, twelve of each,’ Esme continued happily. ‘We plan on going home, to the Moot. Stefano will become an elder, and we’ll start our own village.’

  ‘Just – ah – just the two of you,’ Felix said.

  ‘Oh no,’ Esme said. ‘There are a few others. No one’s really happy here, but this is where the gold is.’ She shrugged. ‘Well, we’ll take the gold, or as much of it as we can carry, and the others will follow us.’

  ‘And your uncle,’ Felix said. ‘What about him?’

  Her round face darkened. ‘He can sit here and rot for all I care, him and Jabas both.’

  ‘Quiet,’ Gotrek said. The corridor had widened out into a circular room, and the entrances to several more tunnels sat across from them. Above him, the flickering light of the torch revealed a curved ceiling with heavy columns that marked the walls. There was a large cistern in the centre of the chamber. ‘What is this place?’ he whispered. He could hear the soft sound of water emanating from the cistern, and the air was damp and slimy feeling.

  Gotrek made a face. ‘This isn’t a fortress, manling. It was just an outpost, a barracks, and this was the water supply. The folk of Mourkain stole the secrets of the und – the hidden outpost – from us, and they built their fortresses around these water chambers. These crags are soft stone, and t
here’s water below that can be coaxed up, if you have the wit, and once there were likely rain collectors somewhere above that funnelled rain and snow into the reservoir as well.’ He gestured to the other tunnels. ‘Those will lead back to the forecourt, where we entered, if I’m any judge.’

  ‘So, this is it?’ Felix said, with dawning comprehension.

  ‘Aye,’ Gotrek said distractedly, examining the walls.

  ‘Then where’s the gold?’ Metternich said, stepping past Gotrek. He held his torch high. ‘Where’s the bloody gold? Where’s that fool Stefano? He said he knew how to get to the treasure room.’

  ‘It’s here,’ Gotrek said. ‘I can smell it.’ He tapped a wall with his axe.

  ‘Yes, well, I want to see it,’ Metternich snapped. Then, ‘What was that?’ He spun about, thrusting his torch forward. Felix had heard it as well – a stifled whimper. In the light of Metternich’s torch, he saw a crumpled figure on the other side of the cistern. Esme gave a gasp – ‘Stefano!’ – and hurried forward before Felix could stop her. But she stopped short as Felix and Metternich caught up with her.

  ‘That’s not Stefano,’ Metternich said. Felix recognised the dandified halfling who’d first spoken out against his inclusion. The fancy hat, with its feather, lay stomped into shapelessness nearby, and its owner was curled into a whimpering ball, arms over his head and his sword still in its sheath. More startling, however, was the fact that his hair had turned a greasy shade of white. ‘What happened to him?’