by Nathan Long
‘The keys!’ said Danziger, shouting to be heard.
One of Danziger’s men handed him two keys. One of Scharnholt’s had another. But as he turned to the door, more than a score of guards poured out of the two archways, charging the cultists’ rear.
‘Kill them all!’ cried Danziger, though it came out a whisper. ‘Let none escape!’
Scharnholt stepped back to the door as the cultists turned to face their foes. He could give no orders, for he had to maintain his incantation. The two sides clashed together with almost no sound, mouths open like mummers miming shouts and screams.
Augustus glared at the backs of the cultists as they fought the guard, his hands gripping his spear as if he were about to attack. Reiner put a hand on his shoulder. The pikeman snarled and pulled away. The others looked nearly as mutinous. Reiner didn’t blame them. But there was nothing for it. They had to get the waystone.
He stepped to Danziger and shouted almost inaudibly in his ear. ‘M’lord. Give us the keys and defend us, and my men will open the vault so that we may be away all the quicker.’
‘Aye,’ said Danziger. ‘Good. And make the stone ready to carry as well.’
‘Of course, m’lord,’ said Reiner. His heart leapt. The fool gave him more than he’d asked.
Reiner collected the keys and the poles from the men who carried them and motioned the Blackhearts to the door as Danziger’s and Scharnholt’s men formed a protective semi-circle around them, hacking and thrusting at the maddened guards. He gave keys to Franka, Darius and Dieter, then yelled to the others. ‘Watch their backs,’
They nodded and faced out toward the melee, standing behind Danziger’s men—all but Augustus, who only glared, spear at his side, at the carnage. Though they weren’t invulnerable, as Scharnholt’s men had been in the ratmen’s caves, many of the cultists wore amulets written over with vile runes. Reiner saw a guardsman’s sword veer away from a cultist’s head as if pushed aside by an invisible hand.
The key plate was set into the floor before the vault door, an oblong steel plaque decorated with geometric patterns. Franka, Darius and Dieter knelt over it. The designs that framed each keyhole were different. One was a square, one a circle, and one a diamond, which corresponded to the backs of the three keys.
Dieter shook his head as they inserted them into the locks. ‘Dwarf work,’ he shouted to Reiner. ‘Glad y’haven’t asked me to pick it.’ He looked at the others. ‘Now all together, or we’ll have to go again.’
Franka, Darius and Dieter slowly turned their keys, and they hit home together. Reiner felt a heavy clunk under the floor.
Dieter smiled. ‘Prettiest sound in the world.’
Reiner checked the battle. The guards were surrounded now, and falling fast. He slapped the backs of Hals, Pavel, Gert, Augustus and Jergen. ‘Here! Push!’
They turned and pushed on one of the massive stone doors. At first it didn’t move and Reiner momentarily feared they hadn’t unlocked it after all, then slowly it swung in.
When the gap widened enough to walk through, Reiner waved a halt. Pavel and Hals gathered up the poles and rope and the Blackhearts filed into the vault. The faint sounds of battle faded entirely beyond the door. They stopped and gaped in wonder. Augustus’s torch glittered upon a thousand golden treasures. There were twenty gilded chairs and jewelled silver armour with a dragon helm. Swords with gold-chased scabbards and gemstone pommels sprouted like flowers from a Cathay vase. Beautiful paintings and statues and tapestries were piled everywhere. Caskets and chests lined each wall. The waystone stood among a grove of beautiful marble statues, looking out of place among them.
‘Strewth,’ said Pavel. But they were still within Scharnholt’s circle of silence, so Reiner could barely hear him.
‘Nice haul,’ shouted Dieter. ‘Like to have a peek in them chests.’
‘We aren’t here for that,’ said Reiner. ‘Unfortunately.’ He pointed to the waystone. ‘Get it ready. Once Scharnholt and Danziger defeat the guards, I will try to turn them against each other, and then we will kill the survivors.’
‘Sigmar be praised,’ said Hals.
‘About damned time!’ said Augustus.
The others nodded in agreement. They moved to the waystone and began to tip it down on the poles.
‘Wait,’ called Franka, suddenly. ‘Wait! I have a better idea!’
‘Eh?’ said Augustus. ‘There ain’t a better idea than killing them cursed daemon-lovers.’
‘It’ll be better if we survive and escape, aye?’ snapped Franka.
‘What’s the idea, lass?’ bellowed Reiner.
Franka started to explain. Reiner couldn’t hear her.
‘What? You have to shout!’
Frustrated, Franka pointed to a statue of a buxom nymph next to the waystone, which was roughly the same height and circumference, then to a rolled rug.
Reiner laughed. It was a brilliant plan. They could get out without a fight. ‘Yes! Good!’ He waved to the others, shouting. ‘Hide the stone and wrap that instead. Quickly. Jergen, let no one in.’
Reiner helped Hals, Pavel, Augustus and Gert carry the waystone behind the stand of statues, as Franka and Darius unrolled a rug and draped it over the statue.
‘Will it work?’ shouted Gert as they lowered the wrapped statue onto the poles.
Reiner shrugged. ‘If it doesn’t, you’ll get your fight.’
Gert grinned. They bound the statue to the poles, making sure that the ropes made it impossible to pull back the rug and see underneath.
‘Good,’ said Reiner when it was secured. ‘Get it up. If all goes wrong, kill Scharnholt and Danziger first.’
He looked out as the others raised the wrapped statue. They were just in time. The cultists were killing the last of the guards and wiping their blades. Scharnholt ceased his incantation and turned toward the vault with Danziger. Reiner’s ears popped and sound rushed into his head, battering his eardrums. Boot heels on flags, the laughter of the cultists, the moans of the dying, were suddenly unbearably loud.
Reiner beckoned the Blackhearts forward, then stepped out, waved at Danziger and Scharnholt. ‘M’lords! We have it.’
The Blackhearts edged the covered statue through the partially open stone door. Reiner’s palms were sweating. This was a dangerous moment. If the lords asked to see the stone they were in trouble. If they asked the Blackhearts to carry it, that was trouble as well.
‘Lead on, m’lords,’ he said with a wave of his hand. ‘We will carry the stone.’
‘Eh?’ said Danziger, suddenly suspicious. ‘You will carry the stone?’
‘What does he say?’ said Scharnholt. ‘Does your servant order us?’
‘Your men have been fighting,’ said Reiner. ‘We are fresh and strong. Do not trouble yourselves. We have it well in hand.’
Danziger and Scharnholt exchanged a look, then turned back to Reiner.
‘No, brother.’ Danziger said. ‘We will carry the stone. Since your fellows are fresh and unhurt, you will guard our backs in case we are followed.’
Reiner shrugged and bowed, hiding a smile. ‘As your lordship wishes it.’ He motioned for the Blackhearts to put down the stone.
After some argument, Scharnholt and Danziger agreed that their men would carry the stone together, and the party got underway, travelling without torches. As they neared the passage to the dungeons, Scharnholt resumed his muttering and silence again closed around them. Reiner looked down the corridor as they passed it. Not far down he saw the shadows of bars and of moving men in a square of light cast across the floor.
The main corridor dimmed into darkness beyond the dungeon passage. Scharnholt changed incantations and led the way with a faint blue light that flickered above his outstretched palm. The back of the column was in total darkness. Reiner motioned the Blackhearts to slow their steps, and by the time they reached the stairs to the bowels of the manor, they lagged twenty paces behind. They descended two flights in darkness, then Reiner stopped, listen
ing. When no query came from below, he whispered, ‘Back. To the stone. Quietly.’
The Blackhearts padded back up the steps, then along the corridor toward the torchlight. They slowed at the hall to the dungeons and crept past it. He waved them by. Augustus scraped his spear-butt on the flagstones as he passed and it made a horrendous noise to their oversensitive ears. Reiner wondered if he had done it on purpose.
When no reaction came from the dungeon corridor, they pressed on to the vault room. It was as they had left it, the vault door ajar, the bodies of the dead guards lying in spreading pools of blood. They hurried across the chamber, taking off their stifling beak masks and snatching up four spears with which to carry the stone.
They entered the vault, and Hals, Pavel, Gert and Jergen covered the stone with another rug and lashed it to the spears while the others watched, nervous, and Dieter wandered the room, examining the treasures. But just as they lifted it, they heard movement from the guard chamber.
‘Sigmar! What’s this!’ cried a voice. ‘Captain! The Vault!’
‘Blast it!’ said Reiner, and rushed into the chamber, sword out.
But the guard was already in the hall, screaming at the top of his lungs. Reiner was about to race after him, when he stopped. He darted back into the vault and gestured at the Blackhearts. ‘Set it down and stay hidden!’
He returned to the guard chamber. Voices and boot steps were approaching from the hall. He dropped and rolled in a puddle of blood, smearing it on his face, then flopped back as if dead just as a captain and ten dungeon guards ran in.
The captain stared. ‘Sigmar! This… this is impossible! How did we not hear?’
‘And the vault is open, captain,’ said the first guard. ‘Maybe they who did this are…’
Reiner spasmed up, groaning artistically. ‘The thieves…’ he said. ‘They…’ He looked around blindly for a moment as the guards turned to look at him, then flung out his hand. ‘Captain! Cultists! They’ve stolen something! They took it to the basement and mean to do some strange magic with it! If you hurry, you might stop them!’
Reiner had hoped—prayed in fact, with fingers crossed to Ranald—that the captain would run off after the thieves in a screaming panic, but the cursed stoic barely raised an eyebrow.
‘Yeager!’ he said. ‘Take two men into the cellar and see what’s what! Krieghelm! Tell the boys up top the vault’s been breached! Tell ‘em von Pfaltzen’s wanted. The rest stay with me. The vault cannot remain unguarded.’
The men raced off.
Reiner groaned. ‘But, captain,’ he said. ‘There are more than thirty of’em! Three men will not be enough!’
‘Nor will fifteen, sir,’ said the captain. ‘Which is all I have.’ He turned to the vault, motioning to his remaining men. ‘Three of you with me.’
Reiner watched in horror as the captain and his three men started for the open vault. ‘No! Beware!’ he cried. ‘They used some terrible magic to open the door. It is too dangerous!’
The captain ignored him and entered the vault, torch high. Reiner cursed, knowing what was coming. He got to his feet, still pretending to be hurt, and edged anxiously toward the door.
‘Ho!’ came the captain’s voice. ‘Stand forward, you!’
Something heavy smashed.
The guards in the chamber looked around, surprised. Reiner ran into the vault and came upon a frozen tableau. The captain and his three men were on guard, a toppled suit of armour at their feet, facing the Blackhearts who stood in a dark corner beyond the waystone, swords out.
‘Captain, wait!’ said Reiner, though what he meant to say after he had no idea.
‘Guards! To me!’ called the captain. ‘The thieves are here!’
Reiner cursed. ‘Kill them!’ he said.
‘Reiner, no!’ cried Franka.
But when the captain lunged for Reiner, she came forwards with the rest. Only Augustus and Darius hung back, Darius hiding behind a stack of paintings, Augustus staring, mouth agape.
Reiner parried the captain’s thrust and the man died with Jergen’s longsword in his back. His three men went down an instant later, impaled by Pavel and Hals’s spears and butchered by the others’ swords. But as they fell, nine more rushed into the vault. They cried out as they saw their captain dead and ran around the statues at the Blackhearts, who spread out to meet them.
‘No!’ cried Augustus. ‘No, you damned traitor! I won’t stand for it!’ He lowered his spear and charged straight at Reiner.
EIGHTEEN
We Fight On The Wrong Side
REINER YELPED AND leapt aside, then fell sprawling across the waystone as Augustus’s spear and the swords of two guardsmen passed above him. He rolled away, slashing about wildly. All around him the Blackhearts were crossing swords with the guards.
‘Ye daft pike!’ shouted Gert, and clubbed Augustus over the head with his heavy crossbow.
Augustus stumbled, grunting, and turned to stab Gert, but the crossbowman kicked him in the chest and he fell backward into a Cathay urn as big as a hogshead of ale. His arms and legs waved ridiculously as he struggled to get out.
Reiner staggered to his feet, parrying the guards’ questing swords, and recovered himself. It was an awkward and horrible fight. The vault was so cluttered that there was hardly room to move and none to swing. Marble statues and suits of armour toppled and smashed, and priceless paintings were cut to ribbons.
The Blackhearts fought with a grim resignation Reiner had never seen in them before. They hated what they did. Franka wept as she fought. Gert cursed Manfred with each swing. Pavel and Hals were tight-lipped with fury. Jergen’s face had even less expression than usual. Only Dieter seemed unaffected, stabbing men from behind with a superior smirk on his face.
Reiner backed into the thicket of statues to protect his flanks from his two opponents. Their swords skipped off marble shoulders and breasts. Reiner kicked a statue into one man and ran him through as he dodged. The other pressed forward, and he and Reiner fenced through the forest of frozen figures.
Jergen fought like a machine, gutting one man with a down stoke, then backhanding another’s head off before turning to face a third. None could touch him. Franka dumped a fortune in Reikmarks before her opponent and opened him up from knee to groin as he slipped on them. Gert had a jewel-encrusted ceremonial mace in one hand and his hatchet in the other. Both ran with blood, as did his chest.
Reiner ducked under a slash and cracked his head on the stone elbow of a former Elector Count of Talabecland. His eyes dimmed and he sat down suddenly. He threw his sword arm up, more to cover his head than to attack, and gutted his man by accident. He fell across him, vomiting blood. Reiner pushed him off, fearing another guard would take advantage, but none came. It appeared the battle was over. The Blackhearts stood panting over their kills. Franka’s sobs were the only other sound.
Reiner looked at the guard he had killed. He was only a boy, his first beard just coming in, his dead eyes gazing sightlessly at the ceiling. Reiner stood, trying to clear the tightness in his throat. It wouldn’t go.
‘Are we all well?’ He asked. He saw Jergen kneeling in the middle of four bodies, his head down. ‘Are you hurt, Rohmner?’
Jergen looked up, and Reiner had never seen anything sadder than his scarred, solemn face. ‘I am praying, captain.’
‘Well?’ growled Hals. ‘We ain’t well by a long stretch. This…’ He spread his hands helplessly at the carnage.
Pavel shook so hard that he had to sit down. He glared at Reiner. ‘Captain, we done some bad things before, but…’ He made the sign of the hammer. ‘Sigmar, forgive us.’
The others followed his example. Franka made Myrmidia’s spear.
Reiner licked his lips. ‘You heard me try,’ he said. ‘I tried to send them away. I didn’t—’ He choked and looked back at the boy he had killed, then away.
There was a smash and Augustus rose from the shards of the Cathay urn, shaking with rage. ‘You’ll die for this!’ he sa
id, his voice trembling. ‘I’ll bring the whole city down on you!’ He started edging for the vault door.
‘Don’t be a fool, lad,’ said Gert, as the others spread out. ‘It’s a bad thing we’ve done. But we had to do it. Manfred—’
‘Damn Manfred! Damn the whole lot of you!’ roared Augustus. ‘We fight on the wrong side! He’s made villains of us all!’
The others tried to calm him, but Reiner’s heart was pounding. This was it! Or half of it at any rate. If Augustus ran, he could warn the authorities and they would come for Valaris. But no, Valaris would know the warning had been sent, and lower the boom. If only there were some way to make the dark elf think Augustus had been killed…
Reiner froze as inspiration suddenly flooded into him. By the gods! He had it! It was perfect, as long as the others played along.
‘Do you think you can get by us?’ Reiner shouted. ‘Do you think we will just let you walk out and warn the countess of what we do and where we go?’ Reiner laughed. ‘You selfish little suicide! You may wish to sacrifice your life for the greater good, but as I told you before, we are blackhearts. We look out for our own skin. The rest of the world can go hang. Do you think I’ll let some sentimental fool stop me when our salvation is at hand? We have the stone. All we must do is bring it to Valaris and we are free!’
‘Then come ahead,’ said Augustus, lowering his head like a bull. ‘Least I’ll die on the right side.’
He stooped to grab his spear, but Reiner was quicker. He snatched up a small bust of Magnus the Pious and leapt at the pikeman, bashing him in the head with it. Augustus fell back and Reiner kicked him in the groin. The pikeman moaned and squirmed like a beetle on its back, clutching himself.
The Blackhearts stared. Reiner laughed and tossed the bust aside, turning away nonchalantly. ‘Kill him, Neff. Kill him as you killed that traitor Echert.’
