“The hill track,” said Gutzmann from the stretcher Pavel and Hals had made of their two spears and a red brocade drapery. A bundle of blankets shielded him against the cold. He cradled the severed head of a rat in his arms like a baby. “The chief engineer told me once. They cut a… a hidden staircase behind an upstairs closet. It leads… to the mountainside above the… the mine, and from there to the fort.” He chuckled. “In case of cave-in, he said. But I begin to think it had… another purpose.”
“We’ll look for it,” Reiner said, wincing. Gutzmann’s words bubbled in his throat and he had to take two breaths for each sentence. He was not long for the world.
After a mad search through the upstairs rooms—a series of beautiful, stonework suites that the engineers had turned into a fetid dormitory hung with grimy clothes and littered with papers, books, and the strange tools of their trade—they found the stairs at last behind a door in the back of a closet in what had once been a grand boudoir. The secret panel was opened by pressing in the eyes of a bas-relief griffin that stood rampant above the closet door. Behind it, a crude, narrow spiral staircase had been cut into the rock. It was too tight, and the angle too steep, to manoeuvre Gutzmann’s stretcher, so Jergen, the sturdiest of the men, carried him on his back.
After a hundred steps, the stairway ended at a stone door. When they pressed a lever, the door swung in smoothly, revealing a small cave.
Reiner stepped into it cautiously. Some animal made the cave its home, but it was not here now. He crept to the jagged mouth and peeked out. The cave opened onto a narrow goat path high up on a sharply sloping mountainside. Below were the outbuildings and the fortifications of the mine, almost invisible in the cloud cloaked night.
Reiner beckoned the others forward and he stepped onto the path. The wind that had blown them into the mines was still whipping around the crags. He shivered as the others filed out, Hals and Pavel once again carrying Gutzmann on his stretcher.
The general pointed south. “Follow the path. It leads to the… the hills above the fort. You will find a branch that… brings you beyond. To the Aulschweig side. As long as we still hold… the south wall…”
Reiner motioned the Blackhearts forward, then walked beside the general. “This path allows one to circumvent the fort?”
Gutzmann grinned. “This and others. The bandits… They go where they please. But not… not worth defending. No army could navigate… this.”
Reiner caught his balance as the wind nearly blew him off the mountain. He swallowed. “No. I suppose not.”
They hurried on as quickly as they could, but it was difficult going, particularly for Pavel and Hals, carrying Gutzmann. There were places where the path went straight up a rock face and the general had to be passed up it from hand to hand. In other places it was barely a lip of stone on the edge of a cliff and his weight threatened to pull them into space. At one point the path went under a jutting rock and everyone had to crawl. Pavel and Hals pushed and pulled Gutzmann along on their hands and knees.
But though they bumped and jarred him, and twisted him into undignified and uncomfortable positions, not once did the general complain, only urged them to go faster.
“If those vermin have hurt my men,” he said more than once, “I shall slaughter all of them, above and… and below ground. They shall be… wiped from the earth.”
It took the company twice as long to reach the latitude of the fort as it would have if they had walked the pass, but at last they came over the spine of a pine covered hill and saw it below them. The battle had not yet begun. The rats were still forming up in the darkness of the pass, keeping out of sight of the tent camp. They needn’t have bothered. No one manned the north walls. No one was in the camp. The entire force of the fort was on the great south wall, crossbows loaded, handguns primed, cannon ready, all waiting for the Army of Aulschweig to march up the southern pass. Shaeder’s ruse was a complete success.
Reiner wished he could reach out an unimaginably long arm and tap the defenders on their collective shoulder, make them turn about and take notice of the menace to their rear. But a warning was impossible. Even if he shouted at the top of his lungs no one would hear him.
“Skirmishers!” said Franka, pointing.
Reiner looked. Furtive figures were snaking through the empty camp. The first of them were already at the north wall, peeking through the undefended gate.
He turned to Gutzmann in his stretcher. “It begins, general. We must hurry. Tell us where the path to the far side is.”
The general didn’t respond.
Reiner stepped closer. “Sir?”
Gutzmann was staring up at the stars.
Reiner knelt beside him. His hand was halfway to his mouth, which gaped open. It looked like he had paused in the middle of a cough.
“General.”
Reiner shook him. He was stiff and cold. Hals and Pavel moaned and lowered the stretcher to the ground. The others gathered around.
Reiner grunted and hung his head. “What a bastard Sigmar is,” he said under his breath.
“Hey?” said Hals. “Blasphemy?”
“Sigmar says he wants his champions to die fighting, and here’s one of his best, and what does he do?” Reiner swallowed. “He pinches out his flame right before the fight of his life.” Reiner looked up at the sky. “You can kiss my arse, you great hairy ape.”
Pavel, Hals and Karel shied away from him, as if afraid they might get caught by the thunderbolt that would shortly stab out of the sky and burn Reiner to a crisp. The others shifted uncomfortably.
“We must still warn them,” said Karel at last.
“To what purpose?” said Reiner, standing. “They’ll know soon enough. Look.”
The others followed his gaze. The ratmen were on the move, a living carpet that filled the pass from wall to wall. Dotted among them were a few weird artillery pieces, but not, at least, any siege towers. Those hadn’t made it out. As the rat army exited the pass it spread out like molasses spilling from a jar, and flowed through the neat ranks of tents. No alarm had yet sounded. If there had been any guards on the wall, the skirmishers had silenced them.
“But we could warn the men Shaeder sent south,” said Franka. “If we reached them quickly enough they might make the difference.”
“Aye,” said Reiner. “They might, but they’re led by Nuemark, who is undoubtedly in on Shaeder’s scheme. He’ll kill us before he listens to us.”
Karel frowned. “I think we must still try.”
Reiner nodded unhappily. “Aye, lad. I’m afraid we must.”
“There is some cavalry there,” said Franka. “I heard Nuemark calling the captains. They can’t be in on it, can they?”
“No,” said Reiner. “I doubt it.” He frowned, thinking. “Matthais will be there, under Halmer. Maybe we can convince them to stage a mutiny.”
Hals cursed and looked down at Gutzmann. “Why’d y’have to die, y’mad jagger. If it was ye coming to ’em, the whole lot’d follow you to the Chaos Wastes themselves.”
Pavel nodded. “That they would. And I’d join ’em.”
“We’d best bring him with us,” said Reiner. “Him and his rat head are the best evidence we have of Shaeder’s treachery.”
Pavel and Hals lifted Gutzmann on their spear stretcher again, and the party started south.
SEVENTEEN
To Betray a Traitor!
The Blackhearts continued along the ridge, doing their best to find the path among the black shadows of the thick pine forest. A half league beyond the fort, they found Gutzmann’s split and followed it down to the floor of the pass. Hals and Pavel continued to carry Gutzmann, but they were no longer so gentle.
Just as Reiner and the others stepped onto the road, an eerie echo of a thousand voices rose behind them. Everyone stopped and looked back towards the fort. The roar continued, punctuated with faint crashes and explosions.
Gert cursed. “It’s begun.”
Reiner nodded, a shiver run
ning up his spine.
Hals made the sign of the hammer. “Sigmar protect ye, lads.”
They turned and jogged quickly south, but less than a league later they slowed again. There were torches ahead. They drew their weapons. Reiner pulled Gutzmann’s blankets over his face.
Four silhouettes stood before them. One held up his hand. Reiner could see he was a sergeant of pike. “Halt! Who comes?” he said. “Stand where you are.”
Reiner saluted and stepped into the light. “Sergeant, we come from the fort with desperate news. The invasion from Aulschweig was a trick. We are attacked from the north instead. The detachment must return immediately.”
But the man didn’t appear to be listening. He peered behind Reiner. “Who’s that behind you? How many are you?”
The others came up around Reiner.
“We are eight,” he said, continuing to walk forward. “Now let us pass. We must deliver our message.”
“Er.” The sergeant stepped back. He shot a glance towards the trees. “Can’t allow that. We’ve orders to… to stop anyone who might be…” He looked at the trees again. “Er, be an Aulschweig spy.”
Without warning Reiner leapt ahead and put his sword to the sergeant’s throat. The man’s companions stepped forward, crying out, but then stopped, not daring to move. The Blackhearts spread out to encircle them.
“Call ’em out,” Reiner said. “Call ’em out or you’re dead.”
The sergeant swallowed, his adam’s apple pressing against the tip of Reiner’s blade as he did. “I… I don’t know what you mean.”
Reiner extended his arm a little, pricking the man’s skin. “Don’t you? Shall I tell you, since you’ve forgotten?”
The sergeant was too frightened to respond.
“You are here to stop anyone from the fort from warning Nuemark’s force,” said Reiner, then stopped, holding up a hand. “No. I am wrong. You are to let one man through. A messenger from Shaeder, who will make sure that Nuemark arrives just in the nick, and not a moment before.” He raised the sergeant’s chin with his blade. “Do I have the right of it?”
The man sighed, and waved a defeated hand towards the woods. “Come out, Grint. Lannich. He has us.”
After a moment, there was a snapping of twigs on either side of the road and two sullen handgunners stepped out of the brush.
“We should kill you for this,” said Reiner. “But there will be enough Empire blood spilled this day.”
“We was only following Shaeder’s orders,” said the sergeant.
“To betray your general. Very nice.”
“To betray a traitor!” the sergeant said.
Reiner laughed unpleasantly. “Well, ease your mind. Gutzmann is betrayed and Shaeder commands. But he needs your help in the fort’s defence. Leave your weapons here and return. With luck, the men on the walls won’t mistake you for Aulschweigers.”
“But how are we to help in the defence if you take our weapons?” the sergeant pleaded.
Reiner sneered. “You will find plenty of weapons in the hands of the comrades who are dead by your treachery.”
The sergeant reluctantly began unbuckling his sword belt. His men followed his example.
After supplementing their kit with the guns, swords and spears of the sergeant’s men, and sending them scurrying for the fort, Reiner and the Blackhearts continued south through the pass. After a quarter of an hour, the mountains began to draw in and grow steeper.
“There they are,” said Pavel, pointing forward.
The road twisted behind a screen of trees as it entered Lessner’s Narrows, and the armour and helmets of soldiers glinted yellow and orange through the branches in the light of an orderly row of small campfires.
“And there.” Dag pointed towards the highest, narrowest part of the trail. Against the cloudy grey of the night sky, Reiner and the others could see the outlines of mounted scouts watching for the army that wasn’t coming.
Reiner called a halt and squatted down in the road, thinking. “There will be a picket, and it will be Nuemark’s greatswords. He doesn’t want any messenger to come except the one he expects. We’ll need to draw ’em off.” He raised his head suddenly. “Dag. How would you like to make a little trouble?”
Dag grinned. “Ye want me to kill ’em for ye?”
“No, no,” said Reiner hastily. “Only start a fight. I want you to run down the road like a madman, screaming about ratmen attacking the fort, aye?”
Dag chuckled. “Aye.”
“Be loud. Act drunk. And when the picket comes, punch as many of them in the nose as you can, aye?”
Dag smacked his fist into his palm eagerly. “Oh, aye. Oh, aye. Thank’ee, sir.”
Reiner looked around to be sure the rest were ready to move, then nodded at Dag. “Right then, off you go.”
Dag giggled as he stood, and began trotting off down the road that curved around the stand of trees.
The others looked at Reiner, eyes wide.
Hals voiced what they all were thinking. “They’ll kill the boy.”
Reiner nodded. “Oh, aye.” He stood. “When the shouting starts, we cut through the woods. Got it?” He hoped none of them could see the flush that rose on his cheeks. As much as the lad deserved it, Reiner still felt ashamed. It was like kicking a dog who’d done wrong. The dog wouldn’t understand why you hurt it.
Franka looked up at him, eyes unreadable, as the company moved towards the woods.
Reiner swallowed a growl. “Don’t tell me you’re disappointed in me?”
Franka shook her head. “No. On this I am with you.” She shuddered and squeezed his hand.
From a way off came a cry. “Ratmen! Save us! Save us, brothers! Ratmen attack the fort! Get up ye sluggards! Ride! Ride!”
Reiner could see movement in the camp, soldiers turning their heads and standing. There were more furtive movements as well. Men in the trees closed in on the road, quietly drawing weapons.
“That’s our cue,” said Reiner.
The Blackhearts started through the woods, angling away from Dag’s shouting. Other voices soon joined him, shouting challenges and questions.
“Take me to Nuemark,” shouted Dag. “I wan’ tell him about the ratmen!”
The Blackhearts reached the far edge of the trees. The makeshift camp spread out before them. The infantry sat in formation on the road, looking towards Dag’s shouts. The lancers waited in a slanting meadow off to the left, their horses tethered in neat lines. A small command tent had been set up between the two forces. Nuemark’s Carroburg greatswords stood on guard before it.
Dag’s shouts ended in a yelp of pain as Reiner peered through the trees beside the meadow, searching for Matthais among the lancers who stood or squatted by little fires, rubbing their hands and stamping their feet in the cold wind that swooped down from the mountain. At last Reiner saw him, sitting on a flat rock, talking to Captain Halmer.
Reiner groaned. Halmer had disliked him from the moment he rode out onto the parade ground that first day. Reiner didn’t want to have to tell his story in front of him. He’d call for his arrest before he got out two words. But there wasn’t time to wait for him to leave. The battle at the fort was raging. Every second meant more Empire men dead.
Matthais and Halmer were three ranks in. Reiner was trying to think of a way to reach them without being taken for an interloper, when the answer nearly stumbled on him. A lancer strode into the woods and began relieving himself against a tree not ten paces from the Blackhearts. They held their breath, but he didn’t look their way.
When he had gone, Reiner turned and took the wrapped rat-head from Gutzmann’s dead hands. He tucked it under his arm. “Wish me luck,” he said.
The Blackhearts murmured their replies, and he started for the edge of the woods, undoing his flies. As he stepped into the meadow he began doing them up again, as if returning from a piss. No one remarked his passage. He walking as nonchalantly as he could manage to Matthais and Halmer and squatted down
beside them.
“Evening, Matthais,” he said.
“Evening, lancer,” said Matthais, turning. What can I…” He stopped dead, his jaw hanging open. “Rein…”
“Don’t shout, lad. I beg you.”
“But you’re meant to be in the brig!”
Halmer turned at that. “Who? Isn’t this…? You’re Meyerling. Gutzmann put you in stir.”
Reiner nodded. “Yes, captain. I escaped. But I have…”
“Sigmar, sir!” choked Halmer. You’ve some nerve. Where are Nuemark’s guard. I’ll have you…
“Please, captain, I beg you to hear me out.”
“Hear you out? I’ll be damned if…”
“Sir, please. I won’t fight. You can take me to Nuemark and be done with me. But I beg you to listen first.” He looked at Matthais. “Matthais. Won’t you speak for me?”
Matthais sneered. “Why should I? You came here to assassinate the general. You lied to me.”
Halmer stood, drawing his sword. “Enough of this. Give me your sword, villain.”
“This is not a lie,” said Reiner, angrily, and flipped open his bloody parcel. The rat-head’s death filmed eyes stared blindly up at them. Matthais and Halmer gasped. Reiner closed it again.
“Now will you listen?” he asked.
Halmer sat down on the rock with a thump. He stared at the bundle. “What… what was that.”
“A ratman,” said Matthais, wonderingly “So all that was true? The ratmen in the mine? Attacking the fort?”
“Ratmen don’t exist,” said Halmer, angrily. “It must be something else.”
“Would you like another look?” asked Reiner. He opened the bundle again. Halmer and Matthais stared.
Halmer shook his head, amazed. “It seems incredible, but I must believe my own eyes.”
“Thank you, captain,” said Reiner. “Now, believing that, will you also believe what I told Gutzmann about Shaeder? That he is in league with these horrors?”
Matthais made a face. “But Gutzmann proved you wrong about that. Shaeder would never betray the Empire, and certainly not for gold.”
02 - The Broken Lance Page 18
