by Nathan Long
Most of the chamber was made from the same glittering stone as the rest of the caves, but the right wall was different. It was glossy black, with a greenish sheen, and when Reiner looked at it, it seemed the mind-whispers that Valaris’s crystal slivers had dampened grew louder again. Darius trembled as he stared at it. Rickety scaffolding covered it, from which hung wooden ladders and ropes and pulleys and buckets. On the floor before it mine carts sat upon iron rails that disappeared into tunnels and further chambers. Neither the green army or the brown army was using the scaffolding to fire from, nor were they damaging it.
‘Hoped I’d never see them nasty little buggers again,’ said Gert, wrinkling his nose. ‘Why do they fight, d’y’suppose?’
Reiner chuckled. ‘For the waystone? Cursed thing seems to sow discord wherever it goes.’
‘But why?’ asked Franka.
Reiner shrugged.
Lord Boellengen cowered behind von Pfaltzen, staring at the sea of ratmen. ‘Sigmar! We are outnumbered ten to one.’
Von Pfaltzen trembled with righteous indignation. ‘This cannot be allowed. They must be exterminated. This cannot happen under the streets of Talabheim.’
‘Nor anywhere in the Empire!’ said Father Totkrieg.
‘But perhaps we should return with more troops,’ said Danziger, chewing his lip.
‘And artillery,’ said Scharnholt.
‘You overestimate them,’ said Schott. ‘Look how easily they die. We will drive them before us.’
A huge rat-ogre lumbered out of a side tunnel onto the plateau, its handlers whipping it toward the rear of the rat-handgunners on the slope. Boellengen’s handgunners fired at it in a panic. It roared, then crushed one of its handlers as it fell, riddled with bullets. The other handlers ran back into the tunnel.
Von Pfaltzen and Schott cursed.
Schott turned on Boellengen. ‘M’lord, control your troops.’
The damage was done. The rat-gunners had heard the firing and were looking up the slope. They saw the companies and pointed, squealing. Some fired, dropping a few of the Talabheim guard, but most ran toward the battle, chittering warnings.
‘Lord Keinholtz,’ von Pfaltzen called. ‘Form your spears in a triple line four paces back from the crest of the slope. Be sure you cannot be seen from below. Place your bowmen to the right. Lord Boellengen, you will take your handgunners to the left. Bows and guns will catch the enemy in an enfilade as they top the rise. Lord Schott, you will protect Boellengen’s gunners on the left. I will protect those on the right. Father Totkrieg’s hammers will flank the enemy’s left once they are engaged. Master Raichskell’s knights will do the same on the right. Lord Danziger, hold your men behind the Talabheimers and fill in as necessary. Lord Scharnholt, watch the tunnel mouth behind us for an attack from the rear.’
The companies scrambled to obey his orders, running this way and that, as below, the rats did the same, both green and brown armies shifting to address this new threat, their own squabble temporarily forgotten. They advanced on the hill as one, squealing for human blood.
Reiner looked around. No one was paying any attention to the Blackhearts. Lord Boellengen and his company were getting into position and priming their guns, their duty as the Blackhearts’ minders forgotten.
‘This is our chance, lads,’ said Reiner softly. ‘Back up to the tunnel the rat-monster came from, as if you were defending it.’
They edged away and pretended to stand on-guard at the side tunnel even though they had no weapons. Jergen crossed to where the crushed handler was still struggling to crawl out from under the rat-ogre. It snapped at him. Jergen kicked it unconscious, then took its dagger and cut its throat.
He returned to Reiner. ‘Your hands, captain.’
Reiner held out his wrists and Jergen cut his ropes with a single stroke. ‘Thankee, swordmaster.’ He looked around. Scharnholt’s men were to the right, guarding the mouth of the wide tunnel. They were still being ignored. All the other companies faced the slope, bracing themselves for the ratmen’s charge.
‘Right then,’ said Reiner. ‘Let’s find this blasted rock.’
As they stepped into the narrow passage Reiner heard a shout behind him and froze, thinking they had been seen, but it was only a command to fire, quickly followed by a rattle of gunfire and the squeal of dying ratmen. Reiner let out a breath and motioned the others on. A few yards along, the passage split, one branch curving left toward the main tunnel, the other becoming a hairpin ramp that looped sharply down and back. They took the ramp and saw, as they reached the bottom, a triangular opening at the end through which they could see the big chamber. Before the opening were drifts of furred corpses—the remains of some side conflict.
‘Arm yourselves, lads,’ said Reiner.
The Blackhearts picked through the corpses reluctantly. The ratmen’s weapons were strangely shaped, and sticky with slime and filth.
Hals and Pavel sneered as they tested spears with serrated tips.
‘Flimsy twigs,’ said Hals. ‘Snap if y’look at ‘em hard.’
Franka and Gert sought in vain for bows, but the ratmen didn’t seem to use them. Franka settled for a curved short sword, Gert a longsword. Dieter found a pair of saw-toothed daggers.
As Reiner fixed a sword and dagger to his belt, he noticed a handful of egg-sized glass spheres spilling from a ratman’s satchel. The ratmen’s smoke grenades! He had been victim of one the last time the Blackhearts had encountered the walking vermin. They had kidnapped Franka out from under his nose in a cloud of smoke. He scooped up three and stuffed them in his belt pouch. Jergen selected the biggest sword he could find. Rumpolt pulled a long-barrelled gun from the bottom of the pile.
Reiner shook his head. ‘No, lad. Take a sword,’
Rumpolt looked insulted. ‘You don’t trust me with a gun now?’
Reiner suppressed a growl. ‘It ain’t that. It’s too dangerous. The bullets are poison.’
‘Fine.’ Rumpolt threw down the gun.
It fired with a deafening bang and the bullet ricocheted off the walls. Everyone jumped, then turned on the boy.
‘Idiot!’ snapped Hals.
‘What d’ye think yer doing?’ shouted Pavel.
‘Y’mad infant!’ said Augustus. ‘D’ye mean to kill us?’
Reiner hissed. ‘Quiet!’ He looked around at the others. ‘Anyone hit? No? Then carry on.’
They continued to the triangular opening and looked out into the chamber. The horde of ratmen was surging up the slope, squealing and shaking their weapons in fanatical rage. At the crest, Boellengen’s handgunners disappeared in white smoke as they fired their third volley. The lead ratmen flew back, twisting and screaming. Their comrades leapt over their bodies, uncaring, and charged, crashing ten-deep into the Talabheim front line.
The spearmen held, though they were pushed back several steps, and began stabbing into the wall of fur before them. Totkrieg and Raichskell’s companies swept into the rat armys flanks, swords and hammers rising and falling like threshers.
‘Good lads,’ said Augustus approvingly.
‘They can’t last, though,’ said Pavel, surveying the seething mass of rats on the slope. ‘Look at ‘em all.’
‘Ain’t there ever an end to ‘em?’ snarled Hals.
‘At least they won’t be looking our way,’ said Reiner. ‘Edge round to that wide tunnel there.’ He pointed to a dark mouth, near the scaffolded black wall.
The Blackhearts crept out, hugging the cavern wall, keeping as much as possible behind stalagmites and jutting boulders.
As they got closer to the black wall, the whispering in Reiner’s brain got louder, and his skin began to tingle as if he stood too close to a fire. He noticed the others were twitching and frowning as well. Hals waggled a finger in his ear. Darius winced like he was in pain.
‘Warpstone.’ Reiner said, looking at the wall amazed. ‘The vermin are mining warpstone.’
‘How do they stand it?’ said Darius.
; Dieter looked at his arm, rubbing the lump caused by the dark elfs shard of crystal. ‘Ain’t this supposed to protect us? I can hear the buzzing again.’
‘It’s too much, perhaps,’ said Darius. ‘The shards can only do so much.’
‘Then let’s find the stone and get out,’ said Hals. ‘I’ve all the arms and legs I need, thankee.’
‘I could use another eye,’ said Pavel, touching his eye-patch as they continued on.
Gert grunted. ‘Not in the middle of yer forehead.’
An outcropping of towering boulders stuck out from the wall. They began slipping around it when Franka, who had taken point, pulled up short.
‘Hold,’ she said. ‘More rats, guarding a tunnel.’
Reiner and Hals edged forward and looked beyond a big rock. There were twelve tall, black-furred ratmen in gleaming bronze armour standing on their toes in front of a low opening, trying to see over the boulders to the battle. A flickering purple glow came from the tunnel behind them. Reiner and Hals eased back.
‘The black’uns,’ said Hals grimly. ‘I remember them. Hard villains. Not like the rest of these scrawny runts.’
Reiner nodded, remembering the ten vicious vermin in Gutzmann’s gold mine who had nearly been his death, as well as Franka’s. ‘Nonetheless, I’ve the feeling what we seek is behind them. They must guard something important, or they would be in the battle.’ He looked around at the Blackhearts. ‘We’ll need to take ‘em out all at once, so they can’t raise any alarm. Can we do it?’
‘Wish I had a bow,’ said Franka.
‘Or armour,’ said Augustus.
Rumpolt muttered, ‘Or that gun.’
The others nodded.
‘Right then,’ Reiner said. ‘We’ll wait for the next handgun volley. The noise will mask our bootsteps. Weapons ready.’
The Blackhearts held their weapons at their shoulders and gathered behind the rock, listening to the clashing and cries of battle behind them.
Boellengen’s quavering voice rose above the clamour. ‘Fire!’
‘Now!’ whispered Reiner.
The Blackhearts surged around the rock as stuttering gunfire echoed through the chamber. For an instant the vermin didn’t see them coming, and it was their undoing. The Blackhearts were upon them before they could draw, Jergen in the lead. He clove through the leader’s skull as it cleared its sword, then spun and cut another’s arm off before facing two others. If the swordmaster was thrown off by the short length and light weight of his stolen weapon he didn’t show it. He still fought like any three of the others.
Pavel, Hals and Augustus fought in a line like the pikemen they were, and forced back three ratmen. One of them screamed, Hals’s spear in his ribs, but the spearhead snapped off as the ratman fell.
Hals cursed. ‘Y’see?’ He began laying about him with the butt end.
Gert hacked at one, but he was no swordsman, and made little headway. Rumpolt fought another, flinching away from the ratman’s attacks and making none of his own. Darius hid and did nothing, but by now, no one expected him to. Dieter seemed to have disappeared.
Reiner fenced two vermin, the curved rat-sword twisting awkwardly in his hand. Franka hovered at his shoulder, and as one of the ratmen lunged at Reiner’s chest, she darted in and gashed its wrist. It barked, surprised, and Reiner impaled it, then dodged a thrust from his second opponent.
A second rat fell before Pavel, Hals and Augustus and they pressed the third, who leapt back, squealing. Rumpolt echoed that squeal and fell, rolling, as his rat slashed down at him. Jergen, two more black ratmen falling away from his crimson blade, turned at Rumpolt’s cry and leapt to knock his attacker’s blade aside.
Dieter appeared behind the ratman Gert fought and stabbed him in both sides with his serrated daggers. The ratman screeched and tried to turn, and Gert ran it through the heart.
Reiner and Franka cut down Reiner’s second opponent, and looked around. The others stood over the dead ratmen, panting and wiping their blades.
Rumpolt rolled on the ground, holding his foot. ‘I’m murdered,’ he moaned. ‘Murdered.’
Reiner motioned to Darius, who was coming out from behind a rock. ‘See to him, scholar.’
Jergen picked up one of the black vermin’s longswords and tested it, then nodded.
‘Better?’ asked Reiner, taking one for himself.
‘A little,’ said Jergen.
The others followed Jergen’s example.
Hals stayed with his broken spear. ‘Never got the hang of them toothpicks,’ he said.
‘I haven’t my kit,’ said Darius, looking at Rumpolt’s foot. ‘Fortunately, it isn’t much of a cut.’
‘But it hurts!’ Rumpolt whined.
The melee had not been noticed. The battle on the slope raged on behind them, and the purple light flickered unabated from the tunnel.
‘Right,’ said Reiner, starting toward it. ‘On your guard. Get up, Rumpolt.’ ‘But I’m hurt,’ said Rumpolt.
‘Up!’
Rumpolt pouted, but pulled himself up and hobbled after the others as they entered the tunnel.
Darius flinched back, hissing.
‘What is it, scholar?’ asked Reiner.
‘Great magic is done here,’ Darius said. His eyes were wide. ‘Dangerous magic.’
The Blackhearts slowed, uneasy. Hals and Pavel made the sign of the hammer. Augustus touched his legs, chest and arms in the Taalist ‘roots, trunk and branches’ gesture. Gert spat. They continued on at a crawl, wary as cats, the purple light growing brighter with every step.
As they rounded a curve the end of the tunnel came into view—a glowing purple gash in the gloom, flickering with lightning flashes. Reiner could feel the hair rising on his head and his forearms. A rushing, like that of a wind storm, filled their ears, and under it, a weird, sibilant chanting.
‘We shouldn’t be here,’ said Rumpolt. His sword shook in his hand.
‘Aye,’ said Hals. ‘We should all be in a taproom somewhere, having a pint, but we ain’t.’
‘If ye want to go,’ said Augustus, ‘we won’t miss you.’
‘That’s enough, pikeman,’ said Reiner. ‘Come on.’
They pressed on, though it felt to Reiner like they were chest deep in a river and pushing against the current, and at last reached the glowing opening. Within was a roughly oval chamber that tapered to a point far above like an enormous tent. The walls were pierced by several entrances. The floor was a shallow bowl polished smooth by water.
In the centre of the bowl was the waystone, set upon an eldritch symbol inscribed in the floor in blood. Glowing purple rocks pulsed in six bronze braziers placed at regular intervals around it. Lavender mist rose from these. Between each brazier a snow-white ratman in long grey robes faced into the circle, shaking and clawing at the air as it chanted hissing syllables. It seemed to Reiner that the vermin were pulling the purple mist from the air and pushing it with great effort toward the centre of the circle, where it whirled like a tornado around the waystone.
Purple lightning flickered in the mist and danced around the white rat-mages, who shook as they fought to contain the power they manipulated. Their fur ruffled and their robes whipped around them. Reiner shivered. For despite all the whirling motion and noise, there was no wind, only a strange, still pressure that pushed on his chest and made him want to pop his ears.
‘What are they doing?’ he whispered. ‘Do they seek to destroy it?’
‘I… I think not,’ said Darius, hesitantly.
‘Then what?’ asked Reiner.
The scholar frowned, squinting at the lightning. ‘I think… I think they mean to reset it.’
THIRTEEN
I Am Not An Infant
‘RESET IT?’ ASKED Reiner. ‘You mean, er, make it work again?’
‘Aye, I think so,’ said Darius.
Reiner looked back at the chamber, where the rat-mages’ chanting was rising in pitch and the shaking of their bodies grew more violent. ‘How can
you tell?’
‘Er, well, their ceremony seems to mimic a ritual of binding, and the symbol on the floor looks like an elf rune.’
Everyone turned to stare at him.
‘So, you are a mage,’ said Reiner.
‘No, no!’ Darius shook his head. ‘I’ve told you. These are things I’ve studied in books. I cannot make use of them.’
The others looked sceptical.
‘But why would they want to fix it?’ asked Reiner at last.
Darius shrugged.
Reiner turned back to the oval chamber, chewing his lip. ‘Have you any idea how to stop them?’
‘Stop them?’ said Darius, alarmed. ‘That would be very dangerous.’
Suddenly, the pressure got much worse. It felt like a giant was crushing Reiner’s chest. Darius cried out and staggered, clutching his head. The rat-mages began screeching their litany while the vortex of mist whirled faster and lightning kissed the walls. The roaring was deafening. The Blackhearts backed away.
Reiner shook Darius. ‘What’s happening?’ he shouted.
‘I think they are losing control of the energies they have summoned,’ said Darius, his face contorted. ‘We must run!’
‘Run?’
‘If the energies escape…’ Darius struggled to find words. ‘Anything might happen!’
‘Fall back!’ Reiner cried.
The Blackhearts didn’t have to be told twice. They bolted down the passage as the arcane wind rose to a scream and the desperate chanting of the rat-mages dissolved into frenzied chittering. Lightning chased them, licking down the tunnel. They leapt over the bodies of the black-furred vermin.
‘Behind the rocks!’ cried Darius.
The Blackhearts sprinted for the outcropping and dived behind it.
There was a deafening thunder crack and a blinding purple flash that knocked them flat. Dust and rocks rained down upon them. The great chamber glowed so brightly it seemed a purple sun had appeared in it. The shadow of the Blackhearts’ rocky refuge was as sharply defined as an ink spill on white paper. Lightning played across the ceiling and shot into the warpstone wall as if drawn to it like a magnet. Reiner’s brain felt like it was being collapsed to the size of an acorn. Strange voices screamed in his ears and his skin felt on fire. Though he could feel the ground under him, it seemed as if he was falling.
