Warhammer Red Thirst

by Warhammer

  They began to check their lanterns and the supply of oil. They had plenty of provisions. All their weapons were oiled and ready.

  Magda reached within the sleeves of her robe. She produced a tube of parchment and handed it to Gotrek. He unrolled it, gave it a quick glance and bowed from the waist until his crest touched the ground.

  "May Grungni, Grimniir and Valaya watch over you all," said Magda and made a peculiar sign of benediction over them.

  "The blessing of Sigmar upon you and your clan," replied Aldred Fellblade.

  "Let's go," said Gotrek Gurnisson. They hefted their gear and passed under the arch. Felix could see that it was marked with old dwarfish runes that time had yet to erode.

  As they passed below they were cast into shadow and chill. Felix could not repress a shiver.

  Light from the great window illumined the way down into the gloom. Felix marvelled at the precision of dwarfish engineering. At the brow of the slope he turned and looked back. The priestess and her escort stood there. He waved to her and she raised an arm in farewell. Then they began the downward way and the lands above were hidden from view. Felix wondered if any of them would ever see daylight again.

  "What did the priestess give you, Herr Gurnisson?" asked Johann Zauberlich. Gotrek thrust the document into the magician's hand.

  "It's a map of the city copied from the mastermap in the temple of Valaya the Rememberer. It covers all the ground that Prince Belegar's expeditions explored."

  By the light of the glowing crystals overhead the mage inspected it, then scratched his head. Felix looked over his shoulder and saw only a scrawl of tiny runes connected with lines in different coloured ink. Some of the lines were thick, others were thin and some were dotted.

  "It's like no map I've ever seen," said the mage. "I can't make head nor tail of it."

  Gotrek's lips curled into a sneer. "I would be surprised if you could. It's written in the rune-code of the Engineers' Guild."

  "We are in your hands and Sigmar's, Herr Gurnisson. Lead on," said the Templar.

  Felix tried to count the number of steps he took but gave up at eight hundred and sixty two. He noticed the passages leading of the Silverway and began to have some idea of the scale of the dwarfish city.

  It was like the floating mountains of ice mariners reported in the Sea of Claws. Nine-tenths of it was below the surface. The scale overwhelmed any of the works of man Felix had ever seen. It was a humbling experience.

  The way passed many openings in the wall. Some were still partially bricked up. The brickwork looked recent. Something had chipped through it using very crude tools. There was a smell of rot in the air.

  "Grain silos," explained Gotrek. "Used to feed the city in winter. Looks like gobbos have been at Belegar's stores though."

  "If there are any goblins near, they will soon taste my steel," said Aldred Fellblade.

  Jules and Felix exchanged worried looks. They were not as keen as the Templar and the Trollslayer to get to grips with whatever dwelled down here.

  Felix lost track of time but he guessed it was half an hour before they left the Silverway and entered a hallway as large as the Koenigspark in Altdorf. It was lit by great slots in the ceiling. Motes of dust danced in a dozen columns of light taller than the towers of Nuln. The sound of their steps echoed, disturbing strange shadowy, fluttering things that lurked by the ceiling.

  "The Square of Merscha," said Gotrek, in a voice that held a note of wonder. He gazed into the hall with a strange mixture of hatred and pride. "Where Queen Hilga's personal troops turned and stood off an army of goblins a hundred times their number. They gave the Queen and many of the citizens time to escape. Never did I expect to lay eyes on it. Walk carefully. Every stone has been sanctified with the blood of heroes."

  Felix looked at the Trollslayer. He saw a new person. Since they had entered the city Gotrek had changed. He stood taller. He no longer cast furtive looks around and muttered to himself. For the first time since Felix had met him the dwarf seemed at ease. It's as if he's come home, thought Felix.

  Now it's we men who are out of place, he realized, suddenly aware of the immense weight of stone that lay between him and the sun. He had to fight against the fear that the whole mountain, held in place only by the fragile craft of those ancient dwarfs, would fall in on him, burying him forever. He sensed the closeness of the dark, of the old places beneath the mountains that had never known daylight. The seeds of terror were planted in his heart.

  He looked out across a square larger than any structure he had ever known and he knew that he could not cross it. Absurdly, far below the surface of the earth, he began to feel agoraphobic. He did not want to pass below that vaulted ceiling for fear that the artificial sky would fall. He felt dizzy and his breathing came in ragged gasps.

  A reassuring hand fell on his shoulder. Felix looked down to see that Gotrek stood by him. Slowly the urge to run back up the Silverway passed and he felt some semblance of calm return. He looked back out over the square of Merscha, overcome with awe.

  "Truly, yours are a mighty people, Gotrek Gurnisson," he said.

  Gotrek looked up at him and there was sadness in his eyes. "Aye, manling, that we were, but the craft which created this hall is beyond us now, We no longer have the number of masons needed to build it."

  Gotrek turned and looked back into the hall then, he shook his head. "Ach, manling, you have some inkling of how far we have fallen. The days of our glory are behind us. Once we created all of this. Now we huddle in a few shrunken cities and wait for the end of the world. The day of the dwarf has gone, never to return. We crawl like maggots through the work of elder days and the glory of what once was ours mocks us."

  He gestured out at the hall with his axe, as if he wished he could demolish it with one blow.

  "This is what we must measure ourselves against!" he bellowed. The startled men looked at him. The echoes mocked him. Somewhere among them Felix Jaegar thought he heard the sounds of furtive movement. When he looked towards the noise he saw winking amber eyes receding slowly into the dark.

  As they progressed, the stone of the undercity took on a peculiar greenish tinge. They moved away from the lit hall into shadowy gloom, faintly illuminated by dim, flickering glowjewels. Occasionally Felix heard a tapping sound. Gotrek stopped and placed a hand against the wall. Out of curiosity Felix did the same. He felt a small distant vibration pass through the stone.

  Gotrek glanced up at him. "Gobbo wall-drumming," he said. "They know we're here. Best speed our pace. It'll confuse any scouts."

  Felix nodded. The walls glittered like jade. He could see fat red-eyed rats move away from the light. Their hides were pure black. Gotrek cursed and stamped at the nearest one but it evaded him.

  He shook his head. "Even here, so close to the surface, we see the taint of Chaos. It must be worse down below."

  They came to a stairway running down into the dark. Great columns had fallen away. Piles of masonry lay in a heap. The stair itself seemed crumbled. They disturbed a nest of flitterwings. The small bats took off like scraps of shadow and fluttered about. Uneasily Felix wondered how safe the stairs were.

  They descended through galleries marked with the signs of orcish despoliation. Rats scuttled ahead of them from nests under broken stonework.

  Gotrek gestured to halt and stood sniffing the air. From behind them Felix thought he heard the sound of footfalls further up the stair.

  "I smell gobbos," said the Trollslayer.

  "They are behind us, I think," said Jules.

  "All around us," said Gotrek. "This place has been used as an orc road for many years."

  "What shall we do?" asked Felix, exchanging worried looks with Zauberlich.

  "Push on," said Gotrek, consulting the map. "We're going the way we want to anyway."

  Felix glanced back. He suspected they were being herded into a trap. Things look bad, he thought. Our way back to the surface has been cut off already unless Gotrek knows another route.
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  The Trollslayer's expression assured him that Gotrek was giving no thought to such matters. The dwarf glanced around worriedly as if expecting to see a ghost.

  Their pursuers' footsteps came ever closer. From ahead, echoing through the galleries, they heard a bellow that was deeper and louder than any orc's.

  "What was that?" asked Zauberlich.

  "Something big," said Aldred. Gotrek ran his thumb along the blade of his axe till a jewel of blood glistened on its blade.

  "Good," he said.

  "It must be close," said Felix nervously, wondering if his face was as ashen as the magician's and the scout's.

  "Hard to say," said Gotrek. "These tunnels distort sound. Amplify it too. It could be miles away."

  The roar came again and there was the sound of running feet, as if goblins scuttled to obey an order.

  "It's closer this time," said Felix.

  "Calm yourself, manling. As I said, it's probably miles away."

  It stood waiting in the next hall, near the foot of the long stairway. They passed under an archway carved with skeletal daemon's heads and saw it; a huge ogre, half again as tall as and four times the bulk of Aldred. A crest of hair emerged from its scaly scalp. Like Gotrek's crest, it was dyed. Unlike Gotrek's, it was patterned in alternating black and white bands. A huge spiked armguard whose fist was a long wicked scythe covered its right arm. An enormous spiked ball and chain dangled from its left hand. It looked as though it could demolish a castle wall.

  The creature grinned, revealing spiked metal teeth. Behind it hunched a company of goblins, green skins glistening. They clutched metal shields emblazoned with the emblem of the skull. Scabs and boils and pock marks marked their leering, ugly faces. Some wore spiked collars round their necks. Some had metal rings pinching the flesh of their torsos. Their eyes were red and without pupil. Felix wondered if this was another sign of the taint of Chaos.

  He glanced around. To his right was tumbled masonry. It looked as if old dwarfish stonework had been brought down and cleared to make way for newer and cruder carvings. Iron chains were set in the wall near him. To the left was a great chimney carved so that the fireplace was the maw of a gaping daemonic head. Brownish blood stained the stone. Have we stumbled into some goblin temple? wondered Felix. Just what we need, a man-hungry ogre and a horde of goblin fanatics. Well, he consoled himself, at least things can't get any worse.

  He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to look back up the stairs. Down it poured another company of goblins led by a burly orc. In its left hand it clutched a scimitar and in its right it held a standard whose banner depicted a stylised representation of the tusked maw of the cursed moon, Morrslieb. Stuck on the top of the standard was an embalmed human head. Behind the bearer came more goblins armed with maces and spears and axes.

  Felix looked at Jules. The Bretonnian gave a devil-may-care shrug. What a terrible place to die, thought Felix. For a long moment the three groups exchanged glares. There was a brief peaceful silence.

  "For Sigmar!" cried Aldred, raising his great sword high and charging down the stairs with surprising nimbleness for a man garbed in plate.

  "Tanugh Aruk!" bellowed Gotrek, as he followed. Overhead the glowjewels seemed to glow briefly brighter. "Kill the goblin-scum!"

  Felix brought his blade to the guard position. Beside him Jules Gascoigne stood at the ready. The standard bearer glared at them but made no move to come closer. Felix was reluctant to attack the goblins up the stair. It was a standoff.

  Behind him Felix heard the clash of weapons and the screaming of battle-cries. The foul orc-reek was strong in his nostrils. Iron-shod feet rang on the stairs behind him. He whirled just in time to parry a mace swung with considerable force by a greenskin warrior. The force of the impact jarred up his arm.

  He gritted his teeth and stabbed out. His blade cut a glittering arc through the gloom. The goblin skipped back and Felix almost overbalanced. He moved as rapidly as he could down the stairs, hampered by the uncertain footing.

  "Jules, hold the stair!" he shouted.

  "Anything for a friend."

  Felix pushed on after the goblin. He had some trouble pursuing his nimble foe over the broken ground. The gobbo stuck out its tongue and yelled tauntingly. Overcome by stinging anger, Felix rushed forward and tripped. He fell to his knees and rolled, feeling pain where he had skinned flesh from his knees. Something scurried over him. Tiny claws scratched him. I've disturbed a nest of rats, he thought. For a moment he was disoriented. As he struggled to his feet he caught sight of the tableau of the battle.

  Gotrek chopped into the chest of his foe. Mail exploded outward from the goblin's breast where the huge axe impacted. Aldred Fellblade charged within the sweep of the ogre's huge wrecking ball and stabbed upward through the creature's stomach. Felix saw his blade protruding from the ogre's back. Goblins swept past Felix to get at the dwarf, their ancient foe. Just out of reach of the struggle Johann Zauberlich produced a scroll and chanted a spell. A ball of fire appeared in his left hand. Black rats swarmed everywhere. Shadowy flitterwings swooped agitatedly.

  Felix fought for balance. His gaze shifted to Jules Gascoigne on the stair, bravely standing off a number of heavily armed foes. He had already killed one but more entered behind another standard bearer.

  Pain surged through Felix as a club smashed into his shoulder. Flashing silver stars filled his field of vision. He fell on his face, letting go of his sword. Above him stood the goblin, its club raised, a leer of triumph on its face. Move, damn you, Felix told his protesting limbs as the club whistled down. It loomed like the trunk of a falling tree, moving with painful slowness to the man's panic-honed senses.

  At the last moment Felix rolled to one side and the club hit rock with a loud crack. Felix twisted and lashed out with one foot, sending the goblin flying. Desperately Felix fumbled for his sword, feeling huge relief as his fingers closed over its hilt.

  He dived forward, impaling the goblin before it could rise. The thing cursed as it died. Suddenly a titanic flash blinded Felix. He reeled back, covering his eyes as an inferno erupted before him. Hot air washed over his face. The air stank of sulphur. I'm dead, dead and in hell, he thought. Then understanding filled his mind. Zauberlich had unleashed his fireball.

  He looked around. Gotrek and Aldred were clearing a path through the demoralized goblins. Behind them rushed the scout and the wizard. Jules grabbed Felix by the arm.

  "Come on," he yelled. "We've got to get out while they're confused."

  They ran on down the long corridor. From behind them came the sounds of conflict.

  "What's happening back there?" he yelled.

  "Different gobbo tribes," cackled Gotrek. "With any luck they'll slit each others throats while they fight to see who gets to eat us."

  Felix stared down into the chasm. Stars glittered in its depths. Aldred and Gotrek glanced back down the corridor. Jules prowled out onto the corroded metal bridge. Zauberlich leaned against a cast-iron gargoyle, panting heavily.

  "I fear I was not intended for the adventurous life," he gasped. "My studies did not prepare me for all this strenuous exercise."

  Felix smiled. The magician reminded him of his old professors. The only conflicts they ever fought were struggles over the correct interpretation of the finer points of classical poetry. He was surprised and ashamed to find himself so contemptous of those old men. Once it had been his ambition to become just like them. Had the adventuring life changed him so much?

  Zauberlich was inspecting the gargoyle curiously. Felix revised his opinion of the wizard. He only superficially resembled those elderly academics. None of them would have survived the road to Carag Eight Peaks. The fact Zauberlich's sorcery was so adroit spoke volumes about the man's determination and intelligence. Magic was no art for a weakling or a coward. It held its own hidden perils. Curiosity overcame Felix. He wanted to ask the mage how he had become involved with the Templar.

  "I think we must have lost the goblins," shouted A
ldred. He and Gotrek clumped towards the others. The questions Felix had been about to ask the sorcerer died on his lips. As they crossed the bridge Felix sensed he would never get another chance to ask them.

  They gazed down the long dark corridor. For the first time the light from the glowjewels had failed. Felix had grown so accustomed to the dim greenish light that its sudden failure shocked him. It felt as if the sun had gone in the middle of the day. Gotrek pushed on into the dark, seemingly oblivious to the lack of light. Felix wondered at how well the dwarf could see.

  "Best break out the lanterns," said Gotrek, shaking his head. "The lights have been vandalized. Damn gobbos. Those jewels should have glowed forever but they just couldn't leave them alone. They can never be replaced now, the art has been lost."

  Jules prepared a lantern. Zauberlich lit it with a word. Felix watched them, feeling redundant until he heard Gotrek moan behind him. Felix turned to look.

  Far down the corridor there was a faint greenishly glowing figure. It was an old bearded dwarf. Light poured from it and through it. It looked transparent, as tangible as a soap bubble. The ghostly figure wailed, a thin, reedy sound, and advanced towards Gotrek, arms outstretched. The Trollslayer stood transfixed. Terror overwhelmed Felix. He recognized the quality of the light. He had seen it before, on the mountainside and in the city above.

  "Sigmar protect us," muttered Aldred. Felix heard the Templar's blade ring as he pulled it from the scabbard.

  Felix felt his hair stir as the ancient dwarf advanced. The air seemed cold. His flesh tingled. The figure's lips moved and Felix thought he heard a gibbering faraway voice. Gotrek stirred and moved forward, axe held up as if to ward off a blow.

  The ghost redoubled its frantic pleas. Gotrek shook his head as if he did not understand. The ghost hurried to meet him, looking over its shoulder as if pursued by a distant, invisible enemy.

  Horror filled Felix. The ghost was falling apart. It was like a mist before a strong wind, parts of it just peeled away and vanished. Before Gotrek could reach it, it vanished entirely. As it went Felix heard a distant, despairing wail. It was the cry of a damned soul, vanishing into hell.