[Blood on the Reik 02] - Death's City

by Sandy Mitchell - (ebook by Undead)

  “Over there.” Fritz pointed. A wagon had been drawn across the gap in the embankment, like the one Rudi remembered being poised to block the other gate. It had evidently been done in haste, because the horse drawing it was still between the shafts, whickering nervously at the distant howls of the beastmen. Presumably, the wagon had only just arrived and been pressed into service as a barricade simply because it was the nearest. He said as much and Hanna looked at him quizzically.

  “How can you tell?” she asked.

  “It hasn’t been unloaded yet.” The back was still full, the load it contained concealed by one of the ubiquitous canvas coverings.

  “You’re right.” The horse whinnied and pawed the ground. The girl’s expression softened for the first time since she’d almost killed Gerhard. “The poor thing. It’s terrified.”

  “It’s not the only one,” Fritz mumbled. His steps were faltering. “Let’s just get out of here while the going’s good.”

  “Wait,” Rudi cautioned. He couldn’t believe the gate wouldn’t be guarded at least as diligently as the one they’d come in by. “Something’s not right.”

  “Nothing’s been right since you found those beastman tracks,” Fritz said. His eyes were glazing and he swayed on his feet. Hanna looked at him appraisingly, an expression of mild alarm crossing her face.

  Rudi caught her eye. “What’s the matter with him?” he asked.

  “Apart from being beaten almost to death and dosed with a powerful toxin you mean?” she asked acidly.

  “Can you give him some more? We have to keep going.”

  “If I give him anything else he’s not going anywhere,” Hanna said flatly. Rudi glanced around, half expecting to find armed men already hurrying to arrest them, but seeing no signs of life apart from the horse. His scalp prickled. Something was undeniably wrong.

  “Wait here. Do what you can for him.” He darted forward, keeping to the cover of the stacks of supplies and parked wagons as best he could. Though he moved swiftly, as rapidly as he had through the forest he’d grown up in, his progress seemed to be agonisingly slow. Every moment stretched with the anticipation of a shouted challenge, or the report of a discharged firearm.

  At length he reached the wagon, becoming conscious as he did so of a disturbingly familiar smell; the stench of charred flesh. No wonder the horse was spooked. Crouching low, he scurried between the wheels and pushed aside a couple of the barrels, which had been lined up beyond the cart with the obvious intention of preventing intruders from gaining entry the same way. The smell intensified and his gorge rose in his throat.

  The reason for the absence of any guards was obvious. They were all dead, most of them seared by magical fire just like the luckless troopers who had tried to bar their way a few moments before. Most were charred practically beyond recognition as anything remotely human, but a few of the corpses were relatively intact. Some had been slaughtered in a more brutally straightforward fashion than their fellows, ripped apart by talons which had reduced flesh and bone to bloody strips.

  One body lay apart from the others, a score of paces away, a smouldering crater in its back. Clearly the man had tried to ran from whatever had attacked his comrades and had failed to escape. Something about the corpse sparked a nagging sense of familiarity in the back of Rudi’s mind, and after a moment the image of the dead goblin he and Hanna had found shortly after fleeing from Kohlstadt floated to the surface of his memory. It too had been cut down by pyromancy attempting to escape the herd of beastmen slaughtering its fellows. Had they fallen victim to the same warband and the sorceries of the mysterious horned woman who seemed to travel with them?

  His blood ran cold at the thought. If that was true, all the time he and Hanna had thought they were relatively safe they could have stumbled across the path of the mutant marauders at almost any moment.

  Sickened at the sight of the slaughter, he began to turn away, then hesitated as he noticed something about one of the bodies. The man was one of those who’d been killed in close combat rather than by magic and his right hand still grasped the hilt of his sword, which was half out of its scabbard, as though he’d died in the act of drawing it. Half hidden beneath his body was the unmistakable shape of a quiver, the arrows within fletched with grey goose feathers, and a strung bow lay on the ground next to him. Rudi could picture the scene all too vividly. The man had only had time for a single shot before dropping the weapon as his opponent closed, reaching desperately for the falchion at his belt in a vain attempt to defend himself.

  Swallowing hard, and trying to keep his rising nausea in check, Rudi walked over to the body. The bow was intact, the expert eye for such things his father had taught him, serving him well, and to his even greater relief, the arrows were equally undamaged. Stilling a slight trembling in his hands, Rudi rolled the corpse over a little to reach the buckle securing the quiver to the man’s shoulder.

  “What on earth are you doing?” Hanna’s voice was shrill with horror. Startled, Rudi looked up. The girl was standing next to the horse, trying to calm it, while Fritz clambered awkwardly up onto the horizontal plank which served the wagon as a seat. He slumped there, gasping for breath, gazing at Rudi with his usual expression of bovine idiocy.

  “He can’t use this anymore. We can.” Vaguely surprised at his own callousness, Rudi retrieved the weapon. As an afterthought he picked up a discarded spear too. Fritz knew how to use it, after his militia training in Kohlstadt, and the burly youth would be a lot more use to them armed. He certainly wasn’t about to give the simpleton a sword—he’d probably cut his own thumb off.

  “Are you going to go through their purses too, while you’re at it?” Hanna asked, an edge of disgust entering her voice.

  Rudi hesitated. The men certainly didn’t need their money any more, but every moment he spent scavenging was a moment gained by their pursuers. Gerhard would be on their trail the second he recovered from the mauling Hans had given him, he was sure about that.

  “There’s no time,” he said. He shrugged into the quiver and slung the bow across his back, as he had so many times back home in the forest. The familiar weight of the weapon felt good, comforting. It wasn’t quite the same as the one he’d lost when the captain of the Reikmaiden revealed his treachery, but it would certainly do well enough. He beckoned to his companions. “Come on.”

  “I can’t.” Fritz shook his head. “I’m all in.”

  “You’re all dead if you stay here!” Rudi snapped, amazed at his stupidity.

  Hanna shook her head. “It’s the leaves. They’re wearing off faster than I thought and I daren’t give him any more. If he didn’t have the constitution of an ox as well as the brains of one he’d be unconscious by now.”

  “Then we’ll have to carry him,” Rudi said, appalled. Fritz was no lightweight, and encumbered with him they stood little chance of getting far enough away to elude the inevitable pursuit before the battle ended. Once again, the thought of simply abandoning the youth forced its way to the surface of his mind, and once again, he angrily dismissed it. If they left him to an agonising death simply to save their own skins they were no better than Gerhard.

  “Don’t be stupid,” Fritz said, gazing at Rudi in slack-witted astonishment. “Get on the cart.”

  “Brilliant idea,” Rudi said, sarcasm dripping from every syllable. “Except I’ve never driven one before in my life.” He turned to Hanna. “Have you?” She shook her head.

  “I have. Helped my uncle Otto bring the harvest in every year since I was eight.” Fritz picked up the reins with the easy dexterity which only comes with experience and practise and stared impatiently at Rudi. “So are you coming or what?”

  “Fine.” Masking his surprise with a display of indifference, Rudi clambered up beside him and leant down to proffer a helping hand to Hanna. She took it, hitching up her skirts and dropping to the plank beside him. Acutely conscious of the faint pressure of her body against his, and the fleeting sight of her slender calves which had ev
oked memories of a great deal more, Rudi let go of her hand hastily.

  “Walk on.” Fritz flicked the reins and to Rudi’s astonishment the horse responded, wheeling to avoid the remaining barrels and walking out through the gap in the earthen wall. The sudden lurch took him by surprise, throwing him against the girl and she pushed him away with a faint sigh of irritation. The wheels rumbled against planking, a wooden causeway bridging the ditch just as it had on the western gate and after a few moments of astonishingly rapid progress the encampment disappeared behind them.

  In daylight, the landscape was almost familiar, evoking memories of the barren moorland Rudi and Hanna had fled across after leaving Kohlstadt. This time, however, there was a definite trail to follow, marked by the wheel ruts of innumerable wagons, the hoof prints of horses and the thin coating of trampled mud left by the infantry columns and the ragged cluster of camp followers which trailed in their wake. Even Fritz was able to keep to its course, despite the fatigue which left him slumped on the seat, barely able to keep his eyes open. It seemed to make little difference to the horse, however, which plodded on regardless of its driver’s inattention.

  “Where do you think we’re going?” Hanna asked after a while. As the sun rose, the day began to grow warm and she shifted restively in the travelling cloak. Eventually she discarded it and rummaged in her satchel for a piece of cloth which she tied around her head to hide the seal on her forehead. It was bright blue, matching the colour of her eyes, and even without asking Rudi knew it had to have been another present from Bruno. Once it had been knotted into place she relaxed visibly, even smiling a little. Rudi was suddenly struck by the resemblance she bore to her mother. Greta had always worn a headscarf, from which a wisp or two of blonde hair invariably escaped, just as her daughter’s did now.

  “Towards the river, I guess,” Rudi said. Remembering what Shenk, the treacherous riverboat captain, had told him, he assumed that the supplies for the camp had been landed at a local wharf somewhere and been carted the rest of the way. Either that, or the baggage train was a permanent feature of the regiment, following it about wherever it went. “I suppose we’ll find out soon enough.” He hoped it would be soon. The narrow trail across the moorland felt like a trap to him. Aboard the wagon they were unable to leave it and lose themselves in the rugged terrain surrounding them as they had before. Moreover, given the depth and number of wheel ruts he could see, it was obviously heavily travelled. Sooner or later they were bound to run into some traffic coming in the opposite direction.

  “I suppose so,” Hanna said, clearly thinking the same thing. She delved into Fritz’s pack, producing some of the cold pork they’d taken from the mercenaries the evening before, and leaned across Rudi to nudge the older boy. “Here. You’d better eat something.”

  “Thanks.” Fritz took it mechanically, chewing and swallowing like an automaton. His posture remained slumped, however, and he swayed gently with the motion of the cart. Rudi dipped into his own pack, pulling out the bottle of rough spirit he’d given to Alwyn when she’d appeared suddenly the evening before, suffering the effects of too much magic in too short a time. It had seemed to revive her, and the sorceress had left a fair amount in the bottom of the bottle. He passed it over.

  “Maybe this’ll help too.” He glanced at Hanna as he said it, wondering belatedly if it would only make things worse, but she simply shrugged.

  “Can’t hurt,” she said. Fritz drank deeply, coughed and slipped the bottle into a convenient gap in the woodwork where he could get to it easily. Rudi didn’t challenge him about it, as he was certainly not going to risk drinking the stuff himself.

  “Can’t stay awake.” Fritz nudged Rudi in the ribs and yawned widely. “Take the reins.”

  “What do I do?” Rudi was nonplussed.

  “Nothing. Hold them like this.” He threaded the thin leather strap through Rudi’s fingers with surprising dexterity. “Keep the head straight and the horse’ll do it for you. Pull this one to turn left and this one to turn right, got it?”

  “Got it,” Rudi said, with more confidence than he felt. It seemed easy enough. He gave the reins a faint experimental tug and the horse veered to the left with alarming alacrity, heading for the edge of the track. His heart leaping within him, Rudi pulled gently on the other rein and the wagon straightened out again. “Nothing to it.”

  “Right.” Fritz didn’t sound very convinced. “Try not to turn us over or put us in a ditch.” He slumped even more, wedging himself into the corner of the seat, and closed his eyes. A moment later he started snoring faintly. Rudi raised a quizzical eyebrow and Hanna shrugged.

  “Best thing for him.”

  “Good.” He tried to think of something else to say, but nothing came to mind, so he concentrated on steering the horse. It seemed easy enough, but he hadn’t had to make any critical manoeuvres yet, just letting the creature follow its nose. A sudden thought occurred to him and he turned to Hanna, trying to keep an edge of alarm from his voice. “Do you have any idea how we get it to stop?”

  “None whatsoever,” she said.

  In the event, Fritz woke up before the issue became an urgent one, beginning to stretch before cutting the motion short with an inarticulate strangled sound of acute discomfort.

  “Sigmar’s blood, I’m stiff.”

  “I’m not surprised,” Hanna said. “The battering you’ve taken I can’t believe you can move at all. I’ll take a look at you when we stop.”

  “And do what?” Fritz looked at her with every sign of apprehension.

  Hanna sighed. “It depends what I find. Probably a poultice to reduce the bruising.”

  Fritz still looked wary. “That’s all, right? None of the… other stuff.”

  “If you mean magic, say it,” Hanna snapped. “The words can’t hurt you.”

  “So you say.” Fritz considered what he’d said for a moment, Hanna’s reputation back in their home village no doubt percolating slowly through his mind. Wincing with the discomfort it clearly caused, he forced his swollen face into what he no doubt thought was a conciliatory smile. “It’s just that, you know, seeing you do stuff is a bit… You know.”

  “Well you won’t have to worry about that anymore,” Hanna said bitterly. Fritz’s face resumed its habitual expression of vague bafflement.

  “Gerhard did something to her,” Rudi explained. “She can’t cast spells anymore.”

  “Oh. Oh, well that’s good, isn’t it?” Fritz tried to sound encouraging. “If you’re normal now he won’t be after you anymore, will he?”

  “It’s not as simple as that,” Hanna said, swallowing her temper with a visible effort, much to Rudi’s surprise. Presumably she felt that Fritz’s lack of tact was only to be expected in someone of his limited intellect. “The power’s still in me, I can feel it. I just can’t focus or direct it anymore.”

  “I see.” The hulking youth clearly didn’t.

  Rudi nodded sympathetically. “That must be very frustrating.”

  “You don’t know the half of it.” The girl acknowledged his attempt at sympathy with a wan smile. “It’s like, I don’t know, trying to talk with your mouth full of bread. You know what to do, but you just can’t get the words out.” The smile faded. “And the worst thing is, it’s still getting stronger. I can feel it trying to escape, burst out of me. What happens if it just keeps growing, until I can’t keep it in anymore?”

  “We’ll think of something long before that happens,” Rudi said, with all the assurance he could muster. He squeezed her hand in a momentary gesture of sympathy, withdrawing again before she might object.

  “I think we’re coming to a road.” Fritz reached across to retrieve the reins and swung the horse’s head with easy precision. The cart bumped a little over a raised lip of soil and came to rest on a broad highway of closely packed earth. He pulled gently on the reins, bringing the beast to a halt, and glanced across at his companions. “Which way do we go?”

  CHAPTER FIVE

 
The road looked identical to the one Rudi and Hanna had stumbled across before, wide, hard-packed and baked firm in the summer heat. Rudi glanced up and down it, hoping to find some clue as to where they were, but it wound its way across the moorland in both directions with few signs of life apart from some scattered rabbit droppings. He hoped there might be a milestone nearby, like the one Hanna had read before, but the trail to the camp was evidently a temporary one and had no need of such things.

  “Looks like the coach road again,” Hanna said, confirming his guess. Fritz looked blank. “Rudi and I found it before. It’s the main highway from Altdorf to Marienburg.”

  “Oh.” Fritz shrugged indifferently. “You’ll be wanting to go north then.” Rudi had told him of their intention of heading for Marienburg when they escaped from the bounty hunters the evening before. Rudi felt a shiver of apprehension.

  “I’m not sure,” he began. The last time he’d suggested that, Hanna had pointed out that Kohlstadt had also lain in that direction. It was only a fortuitous milestone and her gift of literacy which had prevented them from marching straight back into the arms of their enemies. Realising the direction of his thoughts, the girl nodded.

  “It should be all right. We’re much further north than we were last time. The junction for Kohlstadt should be back that way.”

  “Marienburg it is, then,” Rudi said, feeling a sudden surge of optimism. Fritz started the horse moving again.

  Wary of pursuit, they kept going for the rest of the morning. As the sun climbed higher in the sky, across which clouds were scudding in a surprisingly chill wind, Rudi kept glancing behind them, but the troop of armed men he expected to see never materialised. Despite the faint tingle of apprehension which never quite faded, he began to feel a little more relaxed with every mile that passed. The soldiers, he supposed, would have enough to worry about finishing off the beastmen, and without Gerhard to divert their attention would undoubtedly concentrate their efforts in that direction.