by Nathan Long
Reiner would have wagered that Halmer’s men would have called it a day and let their comrades finish the job, but to his surprise, they joined the pikemen and trotted north after the cavalry. At least those still standing did. At Reiner’s guess, more than half the men who had ridden into the fort with Halmer lay dead or wounded below the wall of the keep. Others were too tired to move and sat down unheeding among the broken bodies and spilled viscera of their enemies and friends.
Hals let out a huge sigh. ‘So we did it, then.’
Reiner nodded and closed his eyes. He leaned against the battlement. ‘Aye. Well done, lads. Well done.’
‘Manfred damned well better thank us for this one,’ said Pavel.
‘Aye,’ agreed Franka.
‘It weren’t the job he sent us on, that’s certain,’ said Gert.
‘Oh, Sigmar,’ said Karel. Reiner thought he was about to kneel in prayer, but the boy sobbed and retched. ‘Oh, Sigmar, they’re eating them.’
‘What’s the matter?’ Reiner opened his eyes. ‘Who’s eating who?’
Karel was looking over the wall. ‘The rats. They’re eating the dead.’
‘The rats?’ asked Reiner, turning with the others to look. ‘The ratmen?’
‘No. Rats. Big rats.’
Franka choked. ‘They’re eating Matthais!’
TWENTY
Heroic Deeds
THE BLACKHEARTS RAN down to the courtyard and out of the keep. The grounds of the fort were strewn with the dead and dying. Men and ratmen lay in long heaps of bodies that defined where the lines of battle had been, highest where the fighting had been the fiercest. To the left of the gate was the place Halmer had called to the keep to open the portcullis.
Reiner peered at the bodies there. Things were moving among them, but he didn’t wish to believe they were rats. They were the size of pit dogs, and as muscular. They scurried over the bodies, gnawing and clawing at them. And they didn’t just prey on the dead. Reiner saw a wounded man try to push away a rat with feeble strength. The rat sat on his chest and chewed through his throat.
‘It’s horrible,’ muttered Franka. ‘Horrible.’
‘Begone, beasts!’ cried Karel, stamping his feet and waving his sword.
The rats looked up, but failed to run at his advance. Their eyes glowed red in the light from the keep’s gate.
Reiner grunted and waved the others ahead. ‘We get Matthais, but no more. There are too many. We’ll tell someone once we’re back inside.’
As they started moving through the bodies, Reiner saw Jergen crossing towards them. He saluted as he approached.
‘Rohmner,’ Reiner said, nodding. ‘How went the battle for the walls?’
‘Well.’
Reiner snorted. ‘A veritable fountain of words, aren’t you, Rohmner?’
Jergen nodded, then fell in with the others. Reiner sighed. The man was unreachable.
After a moment, Reiner saw the body of Matthais’s horse. They picked their way to it, keeping wary eyes and weapons on the huge rats. Matthais lay behind it, almost lost in shadow but for the bright, straight line of his sword. Two huge rats hunched over him, one chewing on a leg, the other on an arm.
‘Shoo!’ called Karel. ‘Go away, you horrible things!’
‘Ware, laddie,’ said Reiner.
He hurried after him, stepping on bodies as he went. One squealed and squirmed. Reiner stopped and turned. The squeal had not been human. A plump ratman in long robes knelt among the bodies, a scalpel in its hands, a handgunner neatly laid open before it. It blinked up at Reiner through thick spectacles. Reiner frowned. He knew this creature.
‘The surgeon!’ cried Franka. She started forward, her teeth bared. ‘I want his spleen!’
The ratman snarled in anger, and started to crab backwards.
Franka lunged at it, slashing with dagger and short sword. The rat scrambled away with surprising speed, chittering in his own tongue and pointing at the Blackhearts. The giant rats looked up like dogs hearing their master’s voice, then leapt to the attack.
Reiner sprang back, slashing at three rats that snapped at his legs. The others were similarly infested.
‘Ahoy the keep!’ Reiner cried. ‘Help us!’ No one responded. He cursed. ‘Back to the fort!’
But it was difficult to disengage. Hals pinned a rat to the ground but another had him by the boot. Pavel flung one over his shoulder on the point of his spear. A second jumped on his back. Franka kicked one back and stabbed another as she tried to reach the surgeon. Gert hacked one with his axe and stomped another flat. Two more leapt at his chest. Jergen decapitated one and cut another in two. He stepped toward Pavel to help him with his. Karel cut at two, backing away from their claws and teeth. A huge shadow loomed out of the darkness behind him. He didn’t see it.
‘Lad!’ called Reiner. ‘Behind you!’
Karel turned, and ducked a great, chisel-shaped claw. The monster slashed at him again. The thing was the size of an ogre, rippling with fur-covered muscles. Karel dodged back, then lunged at it, slashing it across the arm. It roared and attacked.
Reiner rushed in with Franka and Jergen, but before they could reach the beast, the surgeon skittered ahead of them. ‘Such brave,’ it cried. ‘Such courage! Take! Take!’ It gibbered an order at the rat-ogre, and the thing curled its fist and clubbed Karel to the ground instead of gutting him. The boy’s sword clattered to the flagstones.
Reiner tripped on a pile of bodies trying to reach the monster. He fell. Jergen leapt the pile and swung at the beast, gashing its shoulder. It backhanded him, knocking him into Pavel and Franka.
Before they could regain their feet, the rat-ogre caught up Karel’s limp form with one claw while the surgeon clambered up on its shoulders. The ratman rapped his monstrous mount on the head with his bony knuckles and pointed to the north wall, squeaking all the while. The beast vaulted over a dead horse and disappeared into the shadows, Karel tucked under one arm. The giant rats ran behind it in a bounding carpet.
Reiner clenched his fists. ‘Curse the boy! The battle’s won! The day is saved! Why does he have to go and get himself taken now?’ He looked around at the Blackhearts. They were waiting, expectant. He sighed. ‘All right. Come on.’
They ran for the north gate, Reiner’s wounded leg screaming with each step, as stiff as a tree branch.
THE PASS WAS strewn with dead ratmen. Their panic had apparently not abated, for they had all been cut down from behind. Reiner and the Blackhearts jogged through it, peering ahead anxiously into the darkness. Only occasionally did the clouds part to allow them to see their quarry bounding before them. They were gaining on the rat-monster, but slowly. Reiner’s breath was like knives in his throat. He couldn’t remember when he had run more in one night.
They veered into the branching ravine that led to the mine. The dead rats were thicker here where the narrowing walls had slowed their retreat, and the Blackhearts stumbled over bodies and were forced to weave around abandoned flame guns and other strange equipment.
Soon they saw the outer walls of the mine before them, and a moment later the weird silhouette of the ogre-mounted surgeon lurching through the gate, followed by its boiling shadow of rats. Reiner expected to hear echoes of battle from within the compound and see the light of torches, but it was silent and empty.
As they ran in they saw at last evidence that the ratmen and the soldiers had come this way. A crowd of armoured horses milled about in front of the mine entrance, waiting for their riders to return. The soldiers have chased the rats to their hole, thought Reiner. He prayed the vermin the explosion had trapped hadn’t dug themselves out.
‘There,’ said Hals, pointing.
In the centre of the compound, the rat-ogre was shambling wearily on, its burdens at last slowing it down. Franka stopped and nocked an arrow, then pulled her bowstring back to her ear. She let fly. The rat-surgeon squeaked and toppled off his mount’s shoulders, arms flailing. The rat-ogre stopped and turned.
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nbsp; The Blackhearts sprinted forward while Gert and Franka stayed back and fired at the beast. Jergen shot out ahead, holding his sword out to his side. The rat-ogre saw them coming and dropped Karel to step over the surgeon, roaring defiance. The giant rats surrounded it, hissing and snarling.
Jergen leapt over them, sword high. The rat-ogre raised an arm instinctively. A clawed hand spun away, severed cleanly by Jergen’s flashing blade. The beast bellowed its pain and knocked Jergen sideways. The swordmaster landed shoulder-first among the rats and rolled. They snapped and clawed at him.
Reiner kicked left and right at the rats and aimed a thrust at the monster. His blade slid off its ribs, opening a crimson gash in its dark fur. It clubbed him aside with its bloody stump. Reiner staggered, his vision blurring from the impact, his bad leg buckling.
Pavel and Hals tried to reach the rat-ogre as well, but found themselves fending off the rats instead. The monster surged forward, swinging at Pavel. Franka and Gert peppered it with arrows and bolts, but it kept coming.
Reiner limped forward again, but as he waded into the rats, chopping in all directions, Karel stood up behind the rat-ogre, weaving and drawing his dagger.
‘Get away, laddie!’ Reiner shouted.
But the boy leapt on the beast’s back, stabbing it in the neck. It howled and clawed behind it in agony, catching Karel by the arm. Reiner lunged in at its exposed side and plunged his sword into its guts. It roared and smashed Karel down on top of him, flattening him to the cobbles. The boy’s elbow cracked him in the cheekbone. Reiner gasped, trying to suck air into his collapsed lungs. Karel’s weight lifted off again and he rolled away, slashing blindly to keep the rats away.
He looked up. The rat-ogre towered above him, its hideous face contorted in a snarl. It had Karel by the leg now and was swinging him around like a club. Pavel and Hals were flying back, knocked off their feet. Franka and Gert were holding fire, afraid to hit Karel.
Reiner tried to rise, tried to get his sword in front of him. The rat-ogre glared down at him and raised Karel over its head. Reiner threw himself aside. The beast brought the boy down like an axe. Karel smashed onto the cobbles with a sick smack Reiner felt through his hands.
Pavel and Hals staggered up, shaking off rats and wading towards the beast. Franka and Gert fired.
Reiner rolled to dislodge a rat and saw the rat-ogre raising its human weapon again. Reiner flailed, but he couldn’t get out of the way. He was covered in rats. One bit his arm, another his side, another his foot. He felt none of it. His whole world was the rat-ogre.
Motion flickered in the corner of his eye. Jergen. The swordsman ran up the monster’s back, blade high. He chopped down like an executioner. The ugly head split in two, gushing blood, Jergen’s steel lodging between its two front teeth. The beast fell like a tree, face first, right beside Reiner. Karel flopped flat to his right.
Jergen sprang off the monster and laid into the rats around Reiner.
Reiner killed the one on his chest and flung it at two more. He rolled to his knees, slashing in a circle, then staggered to his feet and joined Pavel and Hals, who stabbed and kicked and chopped at the vermin in a frenzy. Franka and Gert shot arrows and bolts into them as fast as they could. After a red blind moment, Reiner stopped and looked around, breathing heavily. The others were doing the same. They had run out of targets.
‘All dead?’ Reiner asked.
‘Aye,’ said Hals.
‘There’s one moving,’ said Gert.
The Blackhearts turned. The rat-surgeon was writhing about in agony, Franka’s arrow still lodged in his back. He had lost his spectacles.
Franka approached him, sword out, her face blank and hard. The surgeon squinted up at her, trying to back away. ‘Mercy… Mercy please!’
Franka sneered. ‘This is mercy, torturer!’ She chopped at his neck. The first cut failed to decapitate him, and he shrieked as she hacked at him a second time and cut his head off. The headless corpse flopped and spasmed.
Franka collapsed to her knees.
Hals nodded. ‘Well struck, lass.’
There was a moan behind them. They spun around, swords at the ready.
It was Karel. The boy’s hands were moving weakly, but he was not long for the world. Reiner knelt stiffly at his side. The others gathered round. Franka retched and sobbed. Karel’s chest was an odd shape. A red rib jutted up though his jerkin. He had a gash in his scalp Reiner could see his skull through. It was cracked. The boy lay in a lake of his own blood.
‘Lad. Are you…’ Reiner swallowed. ‘Are you still with us?’
‘Row…’ Karel was trying to beckon to Reiner, but he hadn’t much control of his hands. His breath whistled through his teeth in short gasps.
Reiner leaned close. ‘What is it, lad?’
‘Rowena.’ Karel clutched Reiner’s arm. His grip was painfully strong. ‘Tell her I died… thinking of her.’
Reiner nodded. ‘Certainly I will.’ The poor fool, he thought. The girl had likely forgotten him as soon he had left her sight.
‘But,’ Karel pulled him closer. ‘But… invent a better death.’ He grinned up at Reiner, though his eyes gazed past him. ‘You’re good at that, aye?’
Reiner smiled sadly. ‘Aye, laddie. That I am.’
Karel relaxed his grip and sank back. ‘Thank you. You aren’t… what Manfred said.’ His eyes closed.
‘Poor foolish boy,’ said Hals.
Pavel made the sign of the hammer. Franka murmured a prayer to Myrmidia.
‘He’d no business being mixed up in all this,’ said Gert.
Reiner snorted. ‘None of us did.’
A noise brought their heads up. They looked around. The sound came from outside the compound—the slow hoof steps of a single horse, echoing hollowly off the walls of the ravine. As they watched, it wandered through the gate, unguided by its rider, who was revealed slowly as it moved out of the shadow of the wall. The knight hung sideways from the saddle at an unnatural angle. A broken lance drooped from his mailed hand, blue and white pennons smeared with blood and dirt. His eyes stared vacantly beyond them.
‘Sigmar!’ hissed Pavel. ‘It’s Gutzmann!’
They all stood and turned to face the dead general, but no one seemed eager to approach him. They were transfixed. A chill ran up Reiner’s spine as Mannslieb cut through the clouds and haloed the dead rider. Where had he come from? Had he got lost in the army’s pursuit of the ratmen? Had he followed the Blackhearts?
The horse stopped in the centre of the compound, its head low, as noises began to come from the mine—the thud of boots, the creak and jingle of armour and sword, and above it all, loud laughter and exuberant banter—the voices of a victorious army returning from battle. Reiner stole a look behind him. Lancers, swordsmen and pikemen were swaggering out of the mine, boasting to each other of their exploits. Others came limping, or carrying fallen comrades, but even these seemed to be in an ebullient mood. The enemy was vanquished. The Empire—or their little corner of it—was saved.
Their merry chatter faltered and fell silent however, as one by one they noticed the lone knight sagging gracelessly from his saddle in the moon glow. They came forward in small groups to stand with the Blackhearts, until at last the entire garrison—or what was left of it—stood in a half circle, looking at their leader, who in life had nearly led them to folly, but in death had led them to victory.
They watched thus for many minutes, no one wanting to end the unearthly eerieness of the moment. But then, with a loud snap, one of Gutzmann’s ropes broke and he crashed to the ground.
The garrison gasped and cried out. Then Captain Halmer, who had been standing with his men, stepped forward. ‘Make a bier. Carry him back to the fort.’ He raised his hands. ‘May Sigmar bless our fallen general!’
The garrison raised their voices in unison. ‘Hail Gutzmann! Praise Sigmar! Long live the Empire!’
The crowd of soldiers began to break up as some of Halmer’s lancers went forward and started makin
g a makeshift stretcher of their lances. Riders found their horses, pikemen and swordsmen formed up in their shattered companies.
Halmer saw the Blackhearts and saluted. He crossed to Reiner and clasped his hand, then leaned in. ‘The garrison and the whole of the Empire owe you. I owe you. Unfortunately, for the morale of the men, I think it might be best if they were allowed to continue to believe that Gutzmann died here, now, after the battle was won, rather than before it began.’
Reiner exchanged wry looks with his comrades. ‘That’s all right, captain,’ he said. ‘We’re used to it. Heroic deeds play best when it’s heroes that perform them. Nobody wants to hear a ballad about the blackhearts that propped a would-be deserter on his horse and sent him off to save the day.’
Halmer scowled at that. ‘Good. Then you would do well to keep it to yourself.’ He turned on his heel and began calling the troops to order.
Franka rolled her eyes. ‘The soul of diplomacy as always.’
Reiner shrugged, grinning. ‘The truth is never diplomatic.’
THE SUN ROSE on a cold, bright morning as General Gutzmann led his army for the last time. Four knights carried him back to the fort on crossed lances as their comrades marched silently behind them, heads uncovered, and swords, lances and pikes held at the shoulder. The ceremonial mood was marred however, when it was discovered that another army occupied the fort. A thousand fresh Aulschweig knights, spearmen, swordsmen, and crossbowmen held the great south wall and the keep. An Aulschweig captain at the head of a company of swordsmen held up a hand as the column entered.
‘Baron Caspar Tzetchka-Koloman’s regards,’ he said, ‘and would you be so kind as to ask your captains to meet him in the great hall?’
