by Nathan Long
‘Well done, lads,’ said Reiner, wrapping his cut thumb with his handkerchief. ‘Rohmner, check the guardroom.’
Jergen stepped to the door and looked out. He gave the all’s well sign.
Gert laughed as he stood up. ‘What in Sigmar’s name inspired you to kiss the lass?’
Reiner shot a chagrined look at Franka. ‘It worked, did it not?’
‘Almost didn’t,’ said Hals, scowling. ‘Ye surprised me near as much as ye surprised them.’
‘Aye,’ said Pavel. ‘I nearly pissed m’self.’ He blushed and looked at Franka. ‘Beggin’ yer pardon, lass.’
‘Stop that!’ Franka barked.
The others laughed.
Reiner took the sword belt, keys and gloves from his man and gave Franka his dagger. The others looted the rest, sharing out swords and daggers as best they could.
‘So,’ said Gert. ‘What’s yer plan, captain?’
Reiner smirked. ‘Captain again, is it? Well, I…’ He hesitated. He knew what he wanted to do. He wanted to get Gutzmann’s gold out of the mine and scurry off back to civilization before the ratmen poured out of their hole. But he couldn’t do that until he knew Gutzmann was dead. The fact that Shaeder’s greatswords had come to kill them suggested he was, but Reiner couldn’t be sure. He sighed. ‘Well, I suppose we should go up and see what’s in the wind first.’ He glared at Dag. ‘Since we’ve no one to ask.’
He stepped out of the cell with the others behind him. A stairway ascended into darkness on the far side of the square guardroom. They took it, swords at the ready. As they turned up the last flight they saw at the top a guard with his back to them, standing on the far side of a locked gate.
Reiner motioned them back down around the corner. ‘Any of you recognize that fellow? Or recall his name?’
Gert frowned. ‘I need another look.’ He crept up to the landing, peeked around, then came back down. ‘Herlachen, I think,’ he said. ‘Or Herlacher. Some such. His tent’s by mine. We did wall duty together t’other day.’
Reiner shrugged. ‘It will have to do. Now back down a bit, then come up marching.’ He looked to Jergen. ‘When he opens the door, you run up and pull him in. You understand?’
Jergen nodded.
The Blackhearts backed down another flight, then Reiner dropped his hand and they began marching up, kicking the stairs with their boot heels.
Just before they reached the last flight again, Reiner called out, gruff and loud. ‘Herlachener! Open the gate!’
The guard’s voice echoed down to them. ‘Yessir! Right away, sir.’
Reiner listened to the jingle and clank of the guard putting key to lock. He held up his hand and the Blackhearts marched in place. It wouldn’t do to come around the corner before the fellow had opened the door. At last he heard the scrape of the key and the squeal of the door swinging open.
‘Now, Jergen!’
Jergen darted around the corner as Reiner and the rest resumed marching.
They mounted the last flight just in time to see him springing up at the surprised guard. Jergen punched him in the nose as he tried to draw, then caught him around the back of the neck and flung him down the stairs, where Reiner and Giano caught him and clamped hands over his mouth. Reiner held his breath as the swordmaster took the keys from the lock, pulled the gate closed and slipped back down the stairs. He expected shouts and challenges, but none came. He exhaled.
‘Right,’ he whispered. ‘Tie him up and leave him downstairs.’
‘Better to kill him, hey?’ said Dag.
‘We ain’t at war with the army, lad,’ growled Reiner.
As Hals and Pavel tied the guard’s wrists and ankles with the laces of his jerkin, Reiner craned his neck to look through the gate. The soldiers who wandered through the hallway beyond it seemed calm, which told Reiner that the ratmen had not yet attacked, and Gutzmann had not been reported dead or missing. Daylight streamed into the hall from the courtyard door. It looked to be late afternoon.
He waited for the hall to empty, but it never did. The armoury was the first door on the right, the barracks where Gutzmann’s retinue of knights slept the second. On the left were the tall doors that led to the main hall—usually locked—and beyond them, the door to the courtyard. The hall was in constant use.
‘We’ll have to brass it out, lads.’ Reiner said. ‘With luck, our fall from grace isn’t common knowledge. We’ll just stroll out like naught’s the matter.’
‘You forgetting you and Ostini and the lass smell like a latrine, captain?’ asked Gert.
‘And look like ye fell in one,’ added Pavel.
Reiner sighed. ‘Curse it, I had. Well, I’ll think of something.’ He hoped he wasn’t lying. ‘If anyone challenges us, let me do the talking. If they call guards, run for the north gate.’ He took a deep breath. ‘Right. Off we go.’
Reiner mounted the steps and pushed open the gate with the others behind him. He tried to keep his breath steady, but every soldier who stepped into the hall made him jump. They all wrinkled their noses as the Blackhearts passed.
At last a knight stopped, scowling. ‘Sigmar’s oxter! What happened to you, corporal?’
Reiner saluted. ‘Sorry for the smell, sir. Floor of the guardroom latrine caved in. Some of us got banged up a bit. Going to clean off now.’
The captain made a face. ‘Well be quick about it.’
Reiner saluted again and they continued to the courtyard door. Reiner looked out, then pulled back, heart thudding. Shaeder was on the steps before the keep’s main door, talking with Obercaptain Nuemark.
‘Shaeder,’ said Reiner over his shoulder. ‘Curse the luck. We’ll have to wait a moment…’
Before he could finish there was a commotion at the gate, and a lance corporal galloped into the courtyard on a lathered horse. ‘General Gutzmann,’ he called, reining up. ‘I have urgent news for General Gutzmann.’
Shaeder stepped to the lancer as he dismounted. ‘General Gutzmann is called away to the mines, corporal,’ he said. ‘Tell me your news.’
Everyone in the courtyard turned to listen as the lancer saluted. ‘Yes commander. My lads and I were patrolling the southern pass, bandit hunting, when we saw a column coming from Aulschweig.’
‘A column?’ asked Shaeder, frowning. ‘What do you mean, man?’
‘Commander, it was Baron Caspar at the head of an army. We crept forward to observe and counted six company of horse, eight hundred pike and musket, and siege engines.’
‘Siege engines?’ Shaeder sounded shocked. ‘What is he about? Does he mean to take the fort?’
‘My lord,’ said the corporal. ‘I believe that is exactly what he means to do.’
There was uproar in the courtyard as everyone within earshot began talking at once. Lancers began pushing past Reiner and the Blackhearts into the courtyard. It was a perfect opportunity. No one, not even the guards at the gate, would look at them now.
‘Around the edge, lads,’ Reiner murmured. ‘And keep your heads down.’
They shuffled out in the midst of a crowd of lancers. Shaeder had mounted the steps and was issuing orders to the assembled troops. ‘Daggert, ride to the mine and ask General Gutzmann to return at once. I will take command until he can be found.’ He turned to Nuemark. ‘Obercaptain, assemble a force of three hundred pike and a company each of pistoliers, knights, lancers, swords and handguns, then march south to Lessner’s Narrows and hold it for as long as you are able so that we may have time to prepare. In the meantime, all other captains are to have their troops make the fort ready to receive an attack. And someone find Obercaptain Oppenhauer and ask him to see me in my offices at his earliest convenience. Now go, all of you, and may Sigmar speed you.’
The courtyard erupted into confusion as men ran hither and thither while officers shouted questions and bellowed for horses.
Above it all, Infantry Obercaptain Nuemark called out his orders in a clear, calm voice. ‘I will have Knight Captain Venk, Lance Captain Halm
er and Pistolier Captain Krugholt report to me as well as Pike Captain…’
The rest was lost as Reiner and the Blackhearts dove into a stream of men rushing out of the gate. No one stopped them as they passed into the fort. In fact, they gave them a wide berth.
‘Aulschweig attacks now?’ cried Karel as they hurried along. ‘What rotten luck!’
‘Don’t be a fool,’ said Reiner. ‘Couldn’t you see? That little scene was more staged than one of Detlef Sierck’s murder plays.’
‘Staged?’ queried Karel. ‘What do you mean?’
‘It’s a trick,’ said Franka, answering before Reiner could reply. ‘There is no attack from Aulschweig. Shaeder only pretends there is to draw the fort’s attention south while the ratmen attack from the north.’
‘And he sends away half the fort to make it even easier for them,’ said Gert. ‘By the time Nuemark’s forces return from their wild goose chase they will be locked out, and at the mercy of our cannon in the hands of the rats.’
Reiner motioned to the others, and they pushed out of the flow of men into a narrow alley between two cavalry barracks.
‘But… but it can’t be,’ said Karel, catching his breath. ‘The man who gave the warning was a lancer. The lancers are loyal to Gutzmann.’
‘I’m sorry to be the one to break it to you, lad,’ said Reiner. ‘But even a cavalry man can be bought.’ He sighed and leaned against the wall. ‘Lads, I’ve a feeling there’s nothing left for us to do here. If Shaeder makes his move, then Gutzmann must be dead. I think our best play is to head home and report the commanders treachery to Manfred.’
‘And leave the fort to the mercy of the ratmen?’ asked Karel, aghast.
‘What would you have us do, lad?’ asked Reiner. ‘We nine can’t stop an army of monsters, and we’ve tried warning the brass already. Twice.’ He looked around at the others. ‘I am, of course, open to suggestions.’
The Blackhearts looked unhappy, but said nothing.
‘Right then.’ Reiner pushed away from the wall. ‘We go. I want to return to the mine to be sure Gutzmann is dead first. Then we head north.’
The others nodded, glum. Franka shot Reiner a sharp look.
FIFTEEN
They Knew
THE BLACKHEARTS SPLIT up briefly to return to their various tents and barracks and arm themselves. Though time was of the essence, Reiner took a moment to strip out of his befouled uniform, rinse himself off, and put on fresh clothes. There really was no other option.
His pistols had been taken by his jailers and he hadn’t a second pair, so for weapons he had to make do with the sword he had taken off Shaeder’s man—a greatsword much too big for him. When he was ready, he borrowed a spare horse and pulled Franka up behind him. Her bow was slung across her back. They met the others again at the edge of the tent camp. They had commandeered a hay cart. Reiner was relieved to see that Giano had taken the time to clean himself as well.
There was no one to stop them leaving. The camp was nearly empty, as captains and sergeants bullied their troops into their armour and then herded them into the fort. As they rode into the pass, a bitter wind whipped up and clouds began to race across the sky. Their fat shadows slid across the jagged sunset peaks above the treeline like slugs across rough gold. Reiner cursed as he looked north. An armada of clouds was bearing down on them. The weather would be less than ideal for travelling, and he wanted to be far away before they stopped for the night.
Franka hugged Reiner’s waist and leaned into his back. ‘What are you up to, my lord?’ she whispered. ‘It isn’t like you to ride into danger. You know Gutzmann’s dead. There’s no reason to go back to the mine.’
Reiner whispered in turn. ‘Gutzmann’s gold.’
She cocked an eyebrow. ‘You intend to mine it yourself?’
He shook his head. ‘On our way to rescuing you I discovered where the general holds it for shipment to Aulschweig. There are two crates in the closed tunnel.’
‘So why lie to the others?’
‘You forget the spy?’
‘Isn’t Abel the spy?’
Reiner shrugged. ‘And if he ain’t?’
‘Then how do you intend to get it out without the others knowing what you do? Will the boxes fit in your pockets?’
Reiner laughed. ‘I’m still working on that.’
THE WIND MOANED through the ravine as the Blackhearts approached the mine’s defensive wall. The light had faded to a bruised purple as the sun dropped behind the mountains and the clouds spread across the sky. Reiner’s nerves were so on edge that he was seeing ratmen in every murky shadow and patch of scrub. The vicious vermin could pour out of the mine at any moment and slaughter them all. And he was leading his companions closer to them with every step.
Reiner shivered as they entered the compound. What a contrast to the bustling industry of yesterday. The place felt as if it had been deserted for decades. The mine’s heavy iron gates hung open and squealed like doomed souls as the wind pushed at them. The shutters of the outbuildings banged open and shut. Dust devils fought in the alleys and pebbles rattled down the piles of waste rock, making the Blackhearts jump and turn.
The square black entrance of the mine looked like the maw of some great fish, a leviathan of legend, into which they were being inexorably drawn. The wind moaning across it sounded like the beast’s mournful cry. Reiner and Franka dismounted as the others stepped down from their cart. Though there was no threat apparent, they all drew their weapons. Franka, Giano and Gert set arrows and bolts to their strings.
‘Come on, then,’ said Reiner.
Inside, the wind’s moan became a roar. Reiner couldn’t hear his own footsteps. The entry chamber was lit by a single flickering lantern hung from an iron hook to the right of the entrance. Its light was not enough to touch the far walls, but the mine was not entirely dark. As Reiner’s eyes grew accustomed, he could see a faint glow of torchlight coming from the mouth of the third tunnel.
Pavel noticed it too. ‘Is it the rats?’ he asked nervously.
Reiner shook his head. ‘It’s torchlight. The rat light is purple.’ That the source of the light was human was to some extent comforting, but it was also frustrating. Who was it? What were they doing down there? Why were they in his way? The gold was down that tunnel. Was someone else after it? ‘Let’s find some torches and have a look.’
But as the men stepped further in, a clash of steel and a hoarse cry cut through the wind. They froze in their tracks and looked around, weapons at the ready. It had come from within the mine, but where was hard to tell.
‘A fight,’ said Giano.
‘That was Gutzmann’s voice,’ said Hals. ‘I swear it.’
Karel nodded. ‘I heard it too.’
The cry came again, and more clang and clatter. This time the direction was clear. The sounds were coming from the engineers’ quarters—the strange subterranean townhouse.
Reiner snatched the lantern off its hook and ran for the passage that led to the house. The others pounded after him. It took a few strides for Reiner to realize that he wasn’t sure what exactly he meant to do. Was he hurrying to save Gutzmann or to kill him?
As they entered the passage the sounds of fighting became clearer—grunts and cries and the clash and slither of swordplay. The beautifully carved door was half open, and the lamps within threw a hard-edged bar of light into the hall. Reiner skidded to a stop and held up his hand. The others peeked over his shoulders as he tilted his head around the door.
The beautiful stone foyer was lit with a massive marble chandelier. The parlour to the left was dark, but the dining room beyond it glowed with lamplight, and Reiner gaped at the scene revealed there. It was like a painting done by a poppy fiend in his madness. The table was set as if for a state dinner, with fine porcelain plates and goblets and flatware of silver glinting in the mellow light. Bottles of wine were open, and rich platters of meat, fish and game surrounded a central candelabrum. Each plate was filled with a half-eaten me
al.
As strange as the dinner was, in the light of current events, the diners were stranger. Seated around the table was a number of ratmen, all dressed in armour and holding bloody daggers in their gnarled claws. Each of them was stone dead, hacked and pierced with horrible wounds. But what tipped the scene into lunacy was the sight of General Gutzmann, bleeding and exhausted, fighting a handful of Shaeder’s Hammer Bearer greatswords around and across the table. The greatswords were comically hampered by a strange disinclination to disturb any of the particulars of the scene. They checked their swings so as not to smash any of the plates or goblets, and straightened the dead ratmen in their chairs when they bumped into them. It was this, more than any dazzling feats of swordsmanship, that was allowing Gutzmann to hold his own in such an unequal contest.
‘Sigmar’s beard!’ whispered Karel. ‘What madness is this?’
Reiner shook his head. ‘I’ve never seen the like.’ He slipped into the entryway for a better look. The others eased in behind him, hiding behind the massive granite urns and ornate stone furniture. It was hard to turn away from the scene. What did it mean, Reiner wondered? What was Shaeder up to?
‘At least we haven’t to sweat killing him ourselves,’ chuckled Dag. ‘Those lads’ll do for him.’
‘Are y’mad?’ said Hals. ‘We have to help him. Gutzmann’s the only one who can save the fort!’
Pavel turned to Reiner. ‘We help him, captain. Don’t we?’
‘We…’ Reiner hesitated. What did he do? Here indeed was the salvation of the fort, but also the best opportunity yet to fulfil Manfred’s orders and kill the man who was stealing the Emperor’s gold, or at least see him dead. Of course, if they saved Gutzmann now, they might kill him later once he had beaten the ratmen. But the general knew their orders now. He would protect himself. Such a chance wouldn’t come again. ‘We…’
