Blackhearts: The Omnibus

by Nathan Long

  Reiner wondered if that was even possible, for behind the portcullis, the huge wooden doors were a roaring green inferno. Teams of ratmen stood before them, aiming weapons that Reiner recognized from his adventure in their tunnels. A brass tank carried by one rat, connected by a leather hose to a gun aimed by the other that painted the door with flames that stuck like syrup. The great oak beams were being eaten away, and Reiner realized with horror that the ratmen might be thin enough to fit through the iron bars of the portcullis.

  ‘Pistoliers! Handgunners!’ came Halmer’s cry, and the gunners fired into the flame-crews. Four of the rats jerked and twitched as the bullets smashed into them. A flame gunner dropped his gun as he fell, and it sprayed fire all around, catching his tank-carrying comrade on fire. The burning rat danced and screeched, trying desperately to unbuckle the straps of his unwieldy canister.

  The flames spread to his back, and with a blinding explosion, he was no longer there. A boiling ball of flame erupted where he had stood, and knocked the other ratmen in the vicinity flat, catching them on fire.

  The first rank of knights were pushed back into the second by the blast, shrieking in pain, bits of red hot brass sticking out of their breastplates and faces. Their horses screamed as well, similarly wounded.

  The way to the gate was clear, though it was still aflame. Matthais blew the rally blast again, as Halmer’s force pushed forward. Halmer and the other cavalry men screamed up at the keep. ‘Open the gate! Open the gate!’

  The portcullis didn’t move.

  Matthais blew his bugle again, then shook his fist at the keep’s walls. ‘Let us in, curse you!’ he cried. His forehead exploded in gore, and he sagged back in his saddle.

  Halmer cried out. Reiner looked up. The shot had come from the keep. Someone in the murder room above the gate was shooting at the knights. Another shot fired, and another. Two hit Gutzmann, one in the head, one in the chest. The general never wavered. Matthais, however, toppled slowly off his horse and crashed to the ground, face first, his bugle rattling across the flagstones. Reiner swallowed. The poor lad. A shame for one so faithful to be so faithlessly cut down.

  Another shot took Halmer in the shoulder. He gripped his arm and spurred his horse into the lee of the gate. ‘What are playing at, y’madmen?’ he cried. ‘We come to your aid!’

  Reiner groaned. He had a fair idea of who was firing on them.

  More shots came, but the target was still Gutzmann. The worse problem was that if the portcullis stayed closed Halmer’s force would remain completely exposed to the guns on the great south wall, which were picking them off in twos and threes. Halmer rose in his saddle and bellowed at the square of troops. ‘Around the keep! Put it between you and the walls!’

  The square began to shift around obediently, pressing against the wall so the pikemen only had three sides to defend. Reiner swallowed as he saw one of the giant rat-monsters wading toward them through the rat army.

  ‘Hetzau!’

  Reiner turned. Halmer was waving at him.

  Reiner hurried to the captain, hunching low, though what protection that was from bullets from above he didn’t know.

  Halmer was in a heated discussion with the other captains as Reiner stepped up to his horse. ‘It’s the only way!’ he barked, then turned to Reiner. ‘Hetzau, you broke out of our keep. How would you like to try breaking in?’

  ‘Er, if it’s all the same to you, captain…’

  ‘It wasn’t a request, Sigmar take you! Someone must enter the keep to stop those guns and open the cursed gates, someone who ain’t afraid to disobey Shaeder.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ said Reiner. ‘But how am I…?’

  ‘There’s an underground passage from the gatehouse in the great south wall to the keep dungeon.’

  Reiner looked back to the gatehouse in the southern wall—the distance they had just come. There was a roiling mass of ratmen in the way. ‘Sir…’

  ‘Yes, I know,’ snapped Halmer. ‘We are discussing that. Someone must get you to the gatehouse, then try to retake the south wall’s battlements.’

  ‘Captain,’ said a voice behind Reiner. Everyone turned. It was Nuemark. He was almost as pale as his hair. His greatswords were behind him. He swallowed and squared his shoulders. ‘Captain. I… I have much to make up for. Let me and my Carroburgers do this thing.’

  Halmer looked taken aback. ‘Er, you… you outrank me, Obercaptain. I will not command you. But if it is your wish….’

  ‘It is my duty.’

  ‘Very well.’ Halmer turned to Reiner. ‘Gather your men. The obercaptain will escort you.’

  Reiner saluted, and returned to the Blackhearts, still fighting in the last rank of their adopted pike company His stomach sank as if it had been loaded with rocks. Charging across the battlefield under heavy fire from the walls was certain death. On the other hand, staying here outside the fort was certain death as well. Better perhaps to be moving.

  ‘Blackhearts!’ he called. ‘To me. General’s orders.’

  The Blackhearts backed out of their rank, allowing their pikeman comrades to fill their gaps, then joined him. The square had now tucked in behind the keep, out of the great south wall’s line of fire, and the shooting from the keep had stopped as soon as they had moved away from the gatehouse. In fact, here, handgun and crossbow fire from the keep was supporting them, dropping rats all around Halmer’s force.

  ‘What’s the job?’ asked Hals.

  ‘There’s a passage into the keep dungeon from under the main gatehouse. We’re to go in and open the gates.’ He looked up at the walls. ‘And discover who’s shooting at the general.’

  ‘A passage into…’ Pavel cursed. ‘Would’ve been nice to know that when we was trying to break out, hey?’

  Reiner led them to where Nuemark was forming up his twenty greatswords. He looked even more scared than before, his face grey and slick.

  Reiner saluted. ‘Ready, obercaptain.’

  Nuemark nodded. ‘Very good.’ He turned to his men. ‘Swords of Carroburg, I have dishonoured your name with my cowardice today, and you should not die that I may make amends. Do not make this sacrifice for me, but to save the lives of your comrades, the men I helped betray to these foul vermin.’

  The greatswords drew their weapons, their faces grim. Their sergeant saluted. ‘We are ready, obercaptain.’ They fell into two rows, one on either side of the Blackhearts, shields on their outer arms. One of them growled in Reiner’s ear.

  ‘Y’better be worth it, boy.’

  Nuemark turned. ‘Gunner captain! When you are ready.’

  The captain of the handgunners nodded and signalled his men to advance to the southernmost edge of the square. Nuemark’s greatswords and the Blackhearts fell in behind them. The handgunners stopped directly behind a triple rank of pikemen. Every other man knelt. ‘Pikemen!’ called the gunner captain. ‘Make a hole!’

  The pikemen looked behind them, then parted ranks. Ratmen tried to flood the hole, but they were not quick enough.

  ‘Fire!’ called the gunner captain, and his men unloaded their shot directly into the narrow gap, slaughtering four ranks of ratmen in one volley.

  ‘In!’ cried Nuemark. ‘Carroburgmen charge!’

  The greatswords ran into the opening made by the dying ratmen, swords high, roaring the name of their city. Reiner and the Blackhearts ran with them, hunched down to hide behind their massive, armoured bodies and their round shields. The greatswords hit the massed ratmen like a boulder smashing into a mud lake. The sound of steel chopping rat-flesh and rat-bone was music to Reiner’s ears.

  The party rounded the corner of the keep, a tiny raft of humanity in a swamp of vermin. The greatsword who had growled at Reiner went down beside him, a rat-spear thrust through his groin. He held his killer’s severed head in his shield hand. Another Carroburger went down on the other side. The others closed ranks.

  A third dropped, shrieking, as a bullet ripped through his breastplate. The metal of the breastpl
ate seemed to melt away from the bullet, and the flesh beneath it boiled. The rats on the walls had found them. The Carroburgers raised their shields over their heads. Reiner wondered if that would help.

  A rat spear darted through between two greatswords and stabbed Reiner through the thigh. He stumbled as his leg gave out, but Gert caught him and hauled him up again.

  ‘Steady, captain.’

  Reiner looked down. The wound was deep. Blood was crimsoning his leggings. ‘Bollocks!’ He couldn’t feel it, at least. And then he could, and he grunted. It hurt like fire. He almost fell from the pain. Gert caught him again.

  ‘Can you walk, captain?’

  ‘I’ll manage.’

  Reiner limped on, his leg jolting agony with every step. Fortunately, the ratmen thinned out the closer they got to the gatehouse, for their attentions were on the keep. But in a way this was also unfortunate, for it made the men clearer targets for the gunners on the wall. Two more greatswords fell, and Dag screamed and shook his left hand. It was missing two fingers. Blood poured from the stumps.

  At last they ran under the shadow of the main gate, a thick crowd of rats still harassing them. Nuemark beat on the thick gatehouse door with the pommel of his sword. ‘Let us in! Let us in!’

  A voice came through the studded wood. ‘Commander Shaeder’s orders. No one to come through this door.’

  ‘We are on General Gutzmann’s orders, curse you!’ cried Nuemark. ‘Let us in.’

  There was a short pause, then Reiner and the others heard bolts being drawn and crossbars raised. Reiner’s leg was making him feel nauseous. The gatehouse door swam before him. He gripped the wall and steadied himself.

  ‘All right, captain?’ asked Franka.

  ‘Not in the least,’ he said. ‘But there’s nothing for it now.’

  The door opened to reveal a few terrified guardsmen. Nuemark shoved Reiner through. ‘Skirmishers. In. Hurry.’

  The Blackhearts pushed in behind Reiner and turned. It was a tiny room, already crowded with guardsmen, who had to press into the corners to make room for the new arrivals. There was a table and chairs in the centre, racks of weapons on the walls, and a spiral staircase in one corner that led to the battlements. The left wall was filled with the machinery that raised and lowered the portcullises.

  The greatswords made to follow the Blackhearts in, but the rats, seeing an opportunity to take the room, attacked furiously. Another greatsword went down. The rest faced out, chopping into the mass of rats.

  ‘In, curse you!’ roared Nuemark. His knees were shaking. He nearly lost his grip on his sword.

  One by one the greatswords backed into the door as Pavel and Hals stabbed at the rats over their shoulders with their spears. But with each one through the door, those left outside were pressed all the harder. Another went down, and another. At last there was only Nuemark and one other, and the rats were beginning to slip around them.

  Nuemark pushed his last man through the door. ‘Close it! Close it, you fools,’ he cried. He was weeping with fear, but he never stopped slashing with his sword.

  The greatsword sergeant slammed the door shut and the gatehouse guards dropped the heavy bar.

  Through the thick oak, Nuemark’s voice rose to a wail. ‘Sigmar forgive me! Sigmar forgive…’ His words were cut short as the sound of halberds cutting through armour and into human flesh made every man in the cramped room shudder.

  Nuemark’s sergeant made the sign of the hammer as he finished his captain’s plea. ‘Sigmar forgive him.’

  ‘We could have had him in,’ said Hals.

  ‘He didn’t wish it,’ said the greatsword sergeant.

  Reiner collapsed on the stone stairs and cut at his leggings, exposing his wound. A ragged trench had been dug in his left thigh by the spear. The very sight of it made the pain worse. Franka hissed when she saw it.

  With more than twenty men in it, the room was terribly cramped. A few of the greatswords were seeing to wounds of their own. Dag was giggling hysterically as he tied his kerchief over the stumps of his missing third and fourth fingers.

  ‘All right, archer?’ asked Reiner as he stripped out of his jacket and tore the sleeve from his shirt.

  Dag grinned glassily and held up his ruined hand, waggling his first and middle finger. ‘Fine, captain. Still have my shooting fingers.’

  Reiner ripped his sleeve into strips. He glanced up at the guardsmen. ‘Have any of you some water? Or better yet, kirschwasser?’

  A guard pulled a flask from a cupboard and handed it to him. Reiner uncapped it, and had it halfway to his lips before he remembered his vow. He cursed. Damn Ranald anyway, another nine hundred and ninety-six men at least before he could drink again. What had he been thinking? He poured the liquor on the wound. It stung like wet ice. Reiner hissed. Franka tied the strips of cloth tight around the wound. Reiner’s vision eclipsed at the pain, and he turned quickly away to avoid vomiting on her. He vomited on Pavel instead.

  ‘Thank you very much,’ said the pikeman, recoiling.

  ‘Sorry lad. Surprised me, too.’ He pushed himself up and faced the guard room sergeant. His leg screamed but held. ‘Where is this trap?’ he asked through clenched teeth.

  The sergeant pointed to a rack of spears built into the wall. ‘Lundt. Corbin. Open the bolt hole.’

  Two guardsmen tugged four heavy pegs from the frame of the rack then lifted it away from the wall, revealing a narrow staircase that descended into darkness.

  ‘So Gutzmann’s alive?’ asked the guard sergeant.

  ‘Aye,’ said Reiner as he helped Gert to his feet. ‘And he commands you hold this door at all costs. Let no rat in.’

  ‘Aye, sir. No fear of that.’

  The Blackhearts and Nuemark’s greatswords stood and made themselves ready. Reiner saluted their sergeant. ‘Thank you for the escort,’ he said. ‘Sigmar watch you.’

  ‘And you as well,’ said the greatsword. He turned and led his men up the stairs.

  Jergen stood and faced Reiner. ‘Captain.’

  Reiner nearly jumped out of his skin. He wasn’t sure the swordsman had ever addressed him voluntarily before. ‘Aye, Rohmner?’

  Jergen nodded at the greatswords. ‘I will be best used with them.’

  Reiner looked at the greatsword sergeant. ‘Will you have him?’

  ‘Can he fight?’

  ‘Like several tigers.’

  The greatsword chuckled. ‘Then fall in, bravo.’

  Jergen joined the men climbing the stairs.

  Reiner turned to the Blackhearts. ‘Ready, lads?’

  They nodded. Reiner took a torch from the gatehouse wall, then ducked through the secret door and they all went down into the dark.

  The passage was narrow and direct. At the end, there was a second staircase and a door in the ceiling. Reiner found the catch and shot it back, then pressed his back against the door. It didn’t budge.

  ‘Steingesser. Kiir,’ he called, limping down. Gert and Hals squeezed around the others and stepped up to the trap. They pushed with hands and shoulders.

  A muffled ‘Hoy!’ came from above, and they heard a confusion of steps.

  The trap slammed open, and a ring of handgunners aimed down at them, fingers on their triggers. Gert and Hals threw up their hands.

  Reiner did too. ‘Hold, brothers. We are men.’

  The handgunners eased back, but continued to look at them warily. ‘What men are ye?’ asked a sergeant.

  ‘I bring a message for Commander Shaeder,’ said Reiner as he and his companions stepped slowly up the stairs. They were coming up in the guardroom just outside the cell Gutzmann had imprisoned them in the night before. The room was packed with a company of handgunners, sitting in rows with their guns across their laps. Gert and Hals had apparently lifted a few of them along with the trap. Their sergeants were their only commanders.

  ‘Is the battle over?’ asked a redheaded sergeant.

  ‘What?’ said Reiner. ‘Hardly. What are you doing down
here? Where is your captain?’

  ‘We was told to bide here ‘til the order came to retake the walls, sir,’ said the sergeant, saluting. ‘But it never come. Captain Baer went to ask, but he ain’t come back.’ He coughed, nervous. ‘Er, is it true the general’s returned, sir?’

  ‘Aye, sergeant,’ said Reiner, smiling as big as he could manage. ‘Returned to lead us, and he commands you to take the great south wall. There’s a company of greatswords clearing the way for you now. Away with you. And Sigmar guide your aim!’

  ‘But our captains…’

  ‘There’s no time. I’ll send ‘em after you. Go. Go!’

  ‘Aye, sir!’ said the sergeant, grinning. ‘This way, lads! Action at last!’

  The handgunners jumped up, relieved to be doing something, and began clattering into the trap after him.

  Reiner and the others hurried for stairs.

  Franka shook her head. ‘I don’t understand. I know Shaeder wished to kill Gutzmann. But at the cost of killing himself as well?’

  Reiner shrugged. He had no answer for her.

  The gate at the top of the stairs was open and there was no guard. The boom of guns and a buzz of voices echoed from outside, but the hallway was empty. Reiner held up his hand, then crept forward. The door into the dining hall was open. They looked in. The room was packed with pikemen, all staring glumly towards the main entrance.

  The fort shuddered as a cannon ball struck it.

  ‘The ratmen still control the guns, then,’ said Karel.

  ‘Jergen’ll see to them,’ said Hals, then spat to be sure he hadn’t cursed the swordsman by speaking too quickly.

  The Blackhearts passed on to the courtyard door and looked out. A crowd of lancers and pistoliers filled it, waiting on their horses in full kit, but like the handgunners in the dungeon, they had no captains. They were rigid with tension, every fibre ready to charge out, but instead only their eyes moved, darting from a knot of men banging on the north door of the murder room, to the burning doors of the gate, which looked about to collapse, to the clamour of desperate battle coming from over the north wall, where Halmer’s force fought the rat army. Reiner could see that the thud and clash of weapons, the screams of men and horses, the high chittering of rats, were driving the cavalry men insane. Their fellows were dying not twenty yards away, and they could do nothing but sit and listen.