Warhammer Red Thirst

by Warhammer

  As Gotrek returned Felix saw the stunned look on his face. The Trollslayer looked appalled and bewildered. A tear gleamed beneath his single eye.

  They hurried down the darkened corridor. Even after they reached an area where the glowjewels gleamed no-one seemed in a hurry to extinguish the lantern. For long hours thereafter the Trollslayer never said a word.

  Felix was tempted to drink from a spring flowing into the ancient carved trough. He bent over the greenly glowing water when he felt strong hands knot his hair and pull him back.

  "Are you mad, manling? Can you not see the water is tainted?" Felix was about to object when Zauberlich looked down into the water and inspected the greenish glowing flecks.

  "Warpstone?" he said, in a surprised tone. Felix felt his blood run cold. All he had ever heard about the dread substance was that it was the pure essence of Chaos sought after by evil alchemists in certain grisly tales.

  "What did you say, mage?" asked Gotrek curtly.

  "I think this could be warpstone. It has the greenish luminescence that certain scholarly tomes attribute to that unpleasant substance. If there is even a trace of warpstone in the water that might account for the high level of mutation hereabouts."

  "There are old tales of the Skaven poisoning the wells," said Gotrek. "Would even they be so foul as to do it with warpstone?"

  "I have heard it said that the Skaven subsist on warpstone. Perhaps this served a dual purpose. It gave them sustenance and made the wells unusable by their foes."

  "You seem very knowledgable in the ways of Chaos, Herr Zauberlich," said Felix suspiciously.

  "The Doctor and I have hunted our share of witches," said Aldred Feilblade. "It's a task that obliges you to learn much strange lore. Are you implying any companion of mine could be tainted by such foulness as trafficking with the Ruinous Powers?"

  Felix shook his head. He had no wish to cross a warrior as deadly as the Templar. "My apologies for my unjust suspicions."

  Gotrek guffawed. "No need to apologize. Eternal vigilance is necessary in all foes of the dark."

  Aldred nodded in agreement. It seemed the Trollslayer had found a kindred spirit.

  "We had best move on." said Jules Gascoigne, looking nervously back the way they had come.

  "Best stick to drinking what we brought with us, manling," said Gotrek as they moved off.

  "What is this stuff?" asked Felix nervously. His question echoed off into the distance. Jules shone lantern light into the dark caverns. Giant, misshapen fungi cast long shadows against the white mould-covered walls. Spores drifted in the lantern's beam.

  "Once we cultivated mushrooms for food," muttered Gotrek. "Now it looks like another victim of mutation."

  The Trollslayer marched into the room. His boots left prints in the sodden carpet of mould. Somewhere in the distance Felix thought he heard running water.

  Foot-long splinters of whiteness detached themselves from the walls, enlarging as they came. They hurtled towards the startled adventurers. Gotrek chopped into one with his axe. It gave with a squishing sound. More and more splinters left the wall like a blizzard of giant snowflakes. Felix found himself surrounded by soft bloated bodies and fluttering wings.

  "Moths," shouted Zauberlich. "They're moths. They're trying to get at the light. Kill it."

  It went dark. Felix had a last vision of Gotrek, his body covered in the giant insects, then he stood within a whirling snowstorm of wingbeats. His flesh crawling at the moths' touch. Then all was silence, "Back out," Gotrek whispered, revulsion showing in every syllable. "We'll find another way."

  Felix paused to look back down the long hallway, wishing that the glowjewels were brighter. He was convinced he had heard something. He reached out and touched the smooth cold stone of the wall. Faint vibration thrummed through it. Wall-drumming.

  He strained his eyes. In the distance he could make out vague shapes. One carried a huge banner with what seemed to be a human head on top. He pulled his sword from its scabbard.

  "Looks like they found us again," he said, There was no reply. The others had disappeared round the corner. Felix realized that they had kept marching when he paused. He ran to catch up.

  Filled with dread, Felix opened one eye. He emerged from slumber. It was Gotrek's watch but he thought he heard eerie voices. He looked around the small chamber and his hair stood on end. His heartbeat sounded loud and fast in his ears and he thought that he was going to faint dead away. All power had fled from his limbs.

  The strange green glow lit the area. It washed over the Trollslayer's haggard face, making him look like some ghastly zombie. Gotrek's shadow loomed huge and menacing on the wall. The entity from which the light emerged was on its knees in front of the Trollslayer, arms outstretched beseechingly. It was the ghost of some ancient dwarfish woman.

  It was insubstantial and yet it had the presence of ages, as if it were a manifestation of the elder times made real. Its garb was regal and the face had once possessed authority. Its cheeks seemed sunken and the flesh seemed to have sloughed away and was pock-marked, as if riddled with maggots. The eyes that lurked under cave-like brows were pools of shadow in which witch-lights burned. It was as if the ghost were being eaten away by some unworldly disease, a cancer of the spirit.

  The aspect of the thing filled Felix with terror, and its suffering only intensified his awful fear. It hinted that there were things waiting beyond the grave from which even death was not an escape, powers which could seize a spirit and torment it. Felix had always been afraid of death but now he was aware that there were worse things. He felt himself on the edge of sanity, hoping for the release from this terrible knowledge that madness might bring.

  Nearby Jules Gascoigne whimpered like a child enmeshed in a nightmare. Felix tried to avert his eyes from the scene being played out before him but could not; a compulsion lay on him. He was horribly fascinated by the confrontation.

  Gotrek raised his axe and put it between him and the troubled spirit. Was it his imagination, Felix wondered, or did the runes that inlaid the huge blade glow with internal fire?

  "Begone, abomination," rasped the Trollslayer in a voice barely above a whisper. "Depart, I am yet among the living."

  The thing laughed. Felix realized that it made no sound. He heard its voice within his head.

  "Aid us, Gotrek Gurnisson. Free us. Our tombs are desecrated and a terrible warping power rests within our halls." The spirit wavered and seemed about to dissipate like mist. With a visible effort it maintained its form.

  Gotrek tried to speak but could not. The great muscles in his neck stood out, a vein throbbed at his temple.

  "We have committed no crime," said the spirit in a voice that held ages of suffering and loneliness. "We had departed to join our ancestral spirits when we were brought back by the desecration of our resting place. We were wrenched from eternal peace."

  "How can this be?" asked Gotrek, in a voice that held both wonder and terror. "What can tear a dwarf from the bosom of the ancestors?"

  "What else has the strength to upset the order of the universe, Trollslayer? What else but Chaos?"

  "I am but a single warrior. I cannot stand against the Old Dark Powers."

  "No need. Cleanse our tomb of that which lies there and we will be free. Will you do this, Gotrek, son of Gurni? If you do not we shall not be able to rejoin our kin. We will gutter and vanish like candleflames in a storm. Even now we fade. Only a few of us are left."

  Gotrek looked at the anguished spirit. Felix saw reverence and pity flicker across his face. "If it is within my power, I will free you."

  A smile passed across the spirit's ravaged face. "Others we have asked, including our descendant Belegar. They were too fearful to aid us. In you I find no flaw."

  Gotrek bowed and the spirit reached out a glowing hand and touched his brow. It seemed to Felix as if sudden insight flooded into the Trollslayer. The ghost dwindled and faded as if receding to a vast distance. Soon it was gone.

  Felix loo
ked around at the others. They were all awake and gazing at the dwarf in astonishment. Aldred looked at the Trollslayer with something akin to reverence. Gotrek hefted his axe.

  "We have work to do," he said in a voice like stone grinding against stone.

  Like a man in a trance, Gotrek Gurnisson led them down the long corridors in the depths below the old city. They passed into a area of wide, low tunnels lined by defaced statues.

  "Greenskins have been here," Felix observed to Jules Gascoigne.

  "Not recently, my friend. Those statues were not broken recently. See the lichen growing on the breaks. I like not the way it glows."

  "There is something evil about this place. I can sense it," said Zauberlich, tugging at the sleeve of his robe and peering around nervously. "There is an oppressive presence in the air."

  Felix wondered whether he could sense it too or whether he was simply receptive to his companion's forebodings. They turned a corner and moved along a way lined by mighty arches. Strange runic patterns were carved between each archway.

  "I hope your friend is not leading us into some trap laid by the Dark Powers," whispered the magician quietly. Felix shook his head. He was convinced of the spirit's sincerity. But then again, he thought, what do I know of such things? He was so outwith the realms of his normal experience that all he could do was trust to the flow of events. He gave a fatalistic shrug. Things were beyond his control.

  "I hate to bother you, but our pursuers have returned," said Jules. "Why have they not attacked? Are they afraid of this area?"

  Felix looked back towards the redly glowing eyes of the greenskin company. He made out the hideous standard.

  "Whatever they were afraid of, they seem to have plucked up courage now."

  "Maybe they've been herding us here for sacrifice," said Zauberlich.

  "Look on the bright side," said the scout.

  Eventually they passed over another chasm-bridge and into a long corridor lined with decorative arches. Gotrek halted at a huge open archway. He shook his head like a man waking up from a dream.

  Felix studied the arch. He saw a great groove made for a barrier to slide along. On closer reflection Felix thought that if the opening were closed it would be invisible, blending into the pattern of the way along which they passed. Felix lit his lantern, driving back the shadowy darkness.

  Beyond the opening lay an enormous vault, lined on either side with great sarcophagi carved to resemble the figures of sleeping dwarfs of noble aspect. To the right were males, to the left females. Some of the tops of the stone coffins had been removed. In the centre of the chamber was a huge pile of gold and old banners mingled with yellowing, cracked bones. From the middle of the heap protruded the hilt of a sword, carved in the shape of a dragon.

  Felix was reminded of the cairn they had built for Aldred's followers along the road to the city. A hideous stench came through the arch and made Felix want to gag.

  "Look at all that gold," said the Bretonnian. "Why has no greenskin taken it?"

  "Something protects it," said Felix. A question crossed his mind. "Gotrek, this is one of the hidden tombs of your people you spoke of, isn't it?"

  The dwarf nodded.

  "Why is it open? Surely it would have been sealed?"

  Gotrek scratched his head and stood deep in thought for a moment. "Faragrim opened it," he said angrily. "He was once an engineer. He would know the rune-codes. Ghosts only started appearing after he left the city. He abandoned the tomb to despoliation. He knew what would happen."

  Felix agreed. The prospector was greedy and would certainly have ransacked the tomb if he could. He had found the lost horde of Carag Eight Peaks. If that was true, then was the other part of his story true as well? Had he fled from the troll? Did he leave the Templar Raphael to fight the monster alone?

  While they talked Aldred entered the tomb and walked over to the treasure heap. He turned and Felix saw the look of triumph on the Templar's lean fanatic face. No, get out, Felix wanted to shout.

  "I have found it," he cried. "The lost blade Karaghul. I have found it! Sigmar be praised!"

  From behind the heap of treasure a huge horn-headed shadow loomed, twice as tall as Aldred, broader than it was tall. Before Felix had time to shout a warning, it tore off the Templar's head with one sweep of a mighty claw. Gore spurted. The thing lurched forward, pushing through the mound of treasure with irresistible power.

  Felix had heard tales of trolls, and perhaps once this had been one. Now it was hideously changed. It had a gnarly hide covered in huge, dripping tumours and three enormously muscular arms, one of which terminated in a pincer claw. Growing from its left shoulder, like some obscene fruit, was a small babyish head which glared at them with wise malign eyes. It chittered horridly in a language that Felix could not recognize. Pus dribbled down its chest from a huge leech mouth set below its neck.

  The bestial head roared and the echoes reverberated through the long hall. Felix saw an amulet of glowing greenish-black stone hanging from a chain around its neck. Warpstone, he thought, placed there deliberately.

  He did not blame Faragrim for running. Or Belegar. He stood paralyzed by fear and indecision. From beside him he heard the sound of Zauberlich being sick. He knew warpstone had created this thing. He thought of what Gotrek had said about the long-ago war beneath the mountains.

  Someone had been so insane as to chain warpstone to the troll, to deliberately induce mutation. Perhaps it was the rat-men Skaven that Gotrek had mentioned. The troll had been down here since the war, a festering abomination changing and growing far from the light of day. Perhaps it was the desecration of their tombs by this warpstone-spawned monstrosity which had caused the dwarfish ghosts to walk? Or perhaps it was the presence here of the warpstone, of pure undiluted Chaos.

  The thoughts reverberated through his mind as the roar of the mad thing echoed through the vault. He stood unable to move, transfixed by horror, as the thing came ever closer. Its stench filled his nostrils. He heard the hideous sucking of its leech mouth. It loomed out of the gloom, its pain-racked, bestial face hellishly underlit by its glowing amulet.

  The troll was going to reach him and slay him and he could not make himself do anything about it. He would welcome death, having confronted this manifestation of the insanity of the universe.

  Gotrek Gurnisson leapt forward between him and the monster, hunched in his fighting crouch. His long shadow swept out behind him in the green light so that he stood at the head of a pool of darkness, axe held high, runes shimmering with witchfire.

  The Chaos-troll halted and peered down at him, as if astonished by the temerity of this small creature. Gotrek glared up at it and spat.

  "Time to die, troll," he said and lashed out with his axe, opening up a terrible wound in its chest. The creature continued to stand there, studying the wound in fascination. Gotrek struck again at its ankle, attempting to hamstring it. Once again he drew green blood. The creature did not fall.

  With blinding speed its huge pincer descended, clicking shut. It would have snipped off the Trollslayer's head if he had not ducked. The troll bellowed angrily and lashed out with a taloned hand. Somehow Gotrek managed to deflect it with a sweep of his axe. He avoided the hail of blows that rained down on him.

  The Trollslayer and the troll circled warily, each looking for an opening. Felix noted to his horror that the wounds Gotrek had inflicted were knitting together. As they did so they made a sound like slobbering mouths closing.

  Jules Gascoigne rushed forward and stabbed the troll with his sword. The blade pierced the creature's leg and remained there. As the Bretonnian struggled to pull it out, the monster hit him with a back-handed sweep that sent him flying. Felix heard ribs break and the scout's head hit the wall with a terrible crack. Jules lay still in a spreading pool of his own blood.

  While the creature was distracted Gotrek leapt in and struck it a glancing blow to the shoulder. He sheared off the babyish head. It rolled over to near Felix's feet and lay screami
ng. Felix managed to put down the lantern, draw his sword and bring the blade down, chopping the head in two. It began to rejoin. He continued to hack until his sword was notched, blunted then broken from hitting the stone floor. He still could not kill the thing.

  "Stand back," he heard Zauberlich say. He leapt to one side. The air suddenly blazed. It stank of sulphur and burned meat. The baby head was silent and did not heal.

  As if sensing a new threat, the troll moved past Gotrek and grabbed the mage in its giant pincer. Felix saw the look of terror on Zauberlich's face as he was raised on high. Zauberlich struggled to cast a spell. A fireball erupted, and the shadows fled briefly. The monster screamed. With a reflexive action it closed the claw, chopping the mage in two.

  The wizard fell to the ground, clothes blazing. Black despair overwhelmed Felix. Zauberlich could have hurt the thing, burned it with purifying fire. Now he was dead. Gotrek could only hack futilely at the troll but its Chaos-enhanced powers of healing made it all but invulnerable. They were doomed.

  Felix's shoulders slumped. There was nothing he could do. The others had died in vain. Their quest had failed. The spirits of the dwarfish rulers would continue to wander in torment. It was all futile.

  He looked at Gotrek's sweating face. Soon the Trollslayer would tire and be unable to dodge the creature's blows. The dwarf knew this too but he did not give up. Renewed determination filled Felix. I will not give up either. He looked over at the burning body of the magician.

  The fire had become more intense, more so than if simply the man's clothes were burning. Why was that, Felix wondered?

  Realization dawned. The mage had been carrying spare flasks of lantern-oil in his coat. Swiftly Felix stripped off his pack and fumbled for an oil-flask.

  "Keep it busy!" he yelled to Gotrek, unstoppering the flask. Gotrek uttered a dwarfish curse. Felix flicked the flask at the thing, showering it with oil. The thing ignored him as it sought to pin down Gotrek. The dwarf redoubled his efforts, chopped away like a madman. Felix emptied a second flask over it and then a third, always keeping to the monster's blind side.