by William King
The dwarf laughed nastily. Once again Felix sensed some secret knowledge that ate at the aged dwarf-lord. ‘Speak on. We are rich in no other commodity but time. We can spend it freely.’
‘Thank you. Am I correct in assuming that you are the same Prince Belegar who led the expedition to reclaim this city from the greenskins twenty years ago?’
Belegar nodded. ‘You are correct.’
‘Your guide was a dwarfish prospector called Faragrim, who found many secret ways back into the city below the Eight Peaks.’
Once again the old dwarf nodded. Felix and Gotrek exchanged looks. It had been Faragrim who had told Gotrek about the troll-guarded treasure beneath the mountains.
‘Your expedition was accompanied by a young knight of my order, a companion of Faragrim in his adventuring days. His name was Raphael.’
‘He was a true man and a foe of our enemies,’ Belegar said. ‘He went with Faragrim on his last expedition into the depths and never returned. When Faragrim refused to seek him, I dispatched runners but they could not find his body.’
‘It is good to know you honoured him, although I am downcast to learn that the blade which he bore was lost. It was a weapon of power and of great importance to my order.’
‘You are not the first who has come here to retrieve it,’ the dwarf woman said.
Aldred smiled. ‘Nevertheless I have sworn a vow to return the sword, Karaghul, to the chapter house of my order. I have cause to believe I will succeed.’
Belegar raised an eyebrow.
‘Before setting out on my quest I fasted for two weeks and scourged my body with purgatives and the lash. On Sigmarzeit last I was favoured with a vision. My lord appeared before me. He said he looked with favour on my mission and that the time was near for the enchanted blade to be drawn again.
‘Further – he told me that I would be aided in my quest by one of our ancient brethren. I interpret this as meaning a dwarf, for so are your people always referred to in the Unfinished Book. I beseech you, noble Belegar, do not oppose my mission. My brother Raphael honoured the ancient vow of our faith, never to refuse aid to a dwarf, when he fell. It would be a mark of respect to allow me to recover his blade.’
‘Well spoken, man,’ Belegar said.
Felix could see he was moved, as dwarfs invariably were by talk of honour and ancient oaths. Still there was a hint of bright malice in Belegar’s gaze when he spoke again.
‘I grant your petition. May you have more luck than your predecessors.’
Aldred rose and bowed. ‘Could you provide us with a guide?’
Once again Belegar laughed and there was a strange, wild quality to his mirth. He cackled nastily. ‘I am sure Gotrek Gurnisson would be prepared to aid a quest so similar to his own.’
Belegar rose from the throne and the robed woman moved to support him. He turned to hobble from the room. As he reached the rear exit of the chamber he turned and said, ‘You are dismissed!’
From the window of the tower where the dwarfs had housed them, Felix looked down at the cobbled street. Outside, snow had begun to fall in feathery flakes. Behind him the others argued quietly.
‘I don’t like it,’ Zauberlich said. ‘Who knows how vast an area lies below ground? We could search from now till the end of the world and not find the blade. I had thought the dwarfs guarded the blade.’
‘We must trust to faith,’ Aldred replied, calmly and implacably. ‘Sigmar wishes the blade to be found. We must trust that he will guide our hands to it.’
An undertow of hysteria was evident in Zauberlich’s voice. ‘Aldred, if Sigmar wished the blade returned, why did he not place it in the hands of the three of your brethren who preceded us?’
‘Who am I to guess the Blessed Lord’s motives? Perhaps the time was not right. Perhaps this is a test of our faith. I will not be found lacking. You do not have to accompany us if you do not wish.’
Off amongst the ruins, Felix spied a cold green light. The sight of it filled him with dread. He beckoned for Jules to come over and take a look. By the time the Bretonnian arrived at the window there was nothing to be seen. The scout gave him a quizzical look.
Embarrassed, Felix looked back at the discussion. Am I going mad, he wondered? He tried to dismiss the green light from his mind.
‘Herr Gurnisson, what do you think?’ Zauberlich asked. He turned to beseech the Trollslayer.
‘I will be going down into the dark anyway,’ Gotrek said. ‘It does not bother me what you do. Settle your own quarrels.’
‘We have already lost three-quarters of the people we set out with,’ Zauberlich said, glancing from Jules Gascoigne to Aldred. ‘What purpose would it serve to throw away our own lives?’
‘What purpose would it serve to give up, save to make our comrades’ sacrifice meaningless?’ replied the Templar. ‘If we give up now their deaths will be in vain. They believed that we should find Karaghul. They gave their lives willingly enough.’
The Templar’s fanaticism made Felix uneasy. Aldred talked too casually of men laying down their lives. Yet he also had a calm certainty that gave his words a compelling urgency. Felix knew warriors would follow such a man.
‘You took the same oath as everyone else, Johann. If you wish to foreswear yourself now so be it, but the consequences will be on your own eternal soul.’
Felix felt a wry sympathy for the mage. He himself had sworn to follow Gotrek while drunk, in a warm tavern in a civilised city, after the dwarf had saved his life. Peril had seemed remote then. He shook his head. It was easy to swear such oaths when you had no idea of the consequences. It was another to keep them when the path led to dismal places like Karak Eight Peaks.
Felix heard approaching footsteps. There was a knock and the door creaked open to reveal the female dwarf who had stood beside Belegar in the throne room. ‘I’ve come to warn you,’ she said in her low, pleasant voice.
‘Warn us about what?’ Gotrek enquired curtly.
‘There are terrible things loose in the depths. Why do you think we live in such fear?’
‘I think you had better come in,’ the Trollslayer said.
‘I am Magda Freyadotter. I keep the Book of Remembering at the temple of Valaya. I speak with the voice of Valaya, so you will know that what I say is truth.’
‘Accepted,’ Gotrek Gurnisson said. ‘Speak truth then.’
‘In the darkness, unquiet spirits walk.’ She paused and looked around at them. Her gaze rested on the Trollslayer and lingered.
‘When first we came here we numbered five hundred, with a few mannish allies. The only perils we faced were the orcs and their followers. We cleared this keep and parts of the upper city as a prelude to reclaiming our ancient mines.
‘We made forays into the depths, seeking the vaults of our ancestors, knowing that if we could find them word would spread among the kinsfolk and more would flock here.’
Felix understood the strategy. Word of a treasure find would lure more dwarfs here. He felt a little guilty. It had brought himself and Gotrek.
‘We sent expeditions into the depths in search of the old places. Things had changed from the ancient plans we memorised as children. Tunnels had collapsed, ways were blocked, foul new passages dug by orcs inter-connected with our own.’
‘Did the dwarf Faragrim lead any of these expeditions?’ Gotrek asked.
‘Yes, he did,’ Magda replied.
Gotrek looked at Felix. ‘That much of what he claimed is true then,’ the Trollslayer said.
‘Faragrim was bold and sought deeper and further than all others. What did he tell you?’
Gotrek studied his feet. ‘That he had encountered the mightiest troll he had ever seen – and fled.’
Dwarfs are not good at lying, thought Felix. It seemed impossible that the priestess could not tell he was hiding something. But Magda didn’t appear to notice
anything amiss.
Felix thought back to the night in distant Nuln, in the Eight Peaks tavern, when the awesomely drunken Faragrim had poured out his tale to Gotrek. The dwarfs had been so inebriated that they had even seemed to forget there was a human present and had talked excitedly in a mixture of Reikspiel and Khazalid. At the time Felix assumed the dwarfs were only attempting to outdo each other in telling tall tales. Now he wasn’t sure.
‘So that is what terrified him – we thought it was the ghosts,’ Magda said. ‘One day he returned from the depths. His beard had turned pure white. He spoke no word but simply departed.’
‘You spoke of terrors in the depths,’ Zauberlich interrupted.
‘Yes. Our patrols below soon spoke of encountering ghosts of ancient kin. The spirits howled and wailed and begged us to free them from the bondage of Chaos. Soon our early successes were reversed. What dwarf can bear the sight of kinsmen torn from the bosom of the ancestral spirits? Our forces lost heart. Prince Belegar led a mighty expedition to seek the source of the evil. His force was destroyed by the lurkers in the depths. Only he and a few trusted retainers returned. They have never spoken of what they found. Most of our surviving folk departed to their homelands. Now barely a hundred of us are left to hold this keep.’
The colour drained from Gotrek’s face. Felix had never seen the Trollslayer display such fear before. Gotrek could face any living creature boldly but this talk of ghosts had leeched away his courage. The worship of their ancestors must be very important to his people, thought Felix with sudden insight.
‘I have warned you now,’ the priestess said. ‘Do you still wish to go below?’
Gotrek stared off into the fire. All eyes in the room were on him. Felix felt that if Gotrek abandoned his quest then even Aldred might give up. The Templar seemed convinced that the Trollslayer was the dwarf of his prophecy.
Gotrek clutched his axe so tightly that his knuckles were white. He took a deep breath. He seemed to will himself to speak. ‘Man or spirit, alive or dead, I fear it not,’ he said quietly in a voice that was not convincing. ‘I will go below. There is a troll I have to meet.’
‘Well spoken,’ Magda said. ‘I will lead you to the entrance of the realm below.’
Gotrek bowed. ‘It would be an honour.’
‘Tomorrow then,’ she said and rose to go.
Gotrek held the door for her. After she had departed he slumped into the chair. He laid down his axe and clutched at the armrests as if he feared he would fall over. He looked very afraid.
A huge doorway gaped in the side of the mountain. Above it, rising from the rock, was a great window cut through the rock. The window was roofed with red-slate tiles, many of which had fallen in. It was as if a keep had been built and then sunk beneath the earth so that only the tallest parts protruded above the ground.
‘This is the Silvergate,’ Magda said. ‘The Silverway runs to the Upper Granaries and the Long Stairs. I believe the Way is clear. After that, beware!’
‘Thank you,’ Felix said. Gotrek nodded to the priestess. Aldred, Jules and Zauberlich bowed. The men looked very sombre.
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, Grimnir and Valaya watch over you all,’ Magda said and made a peculiar sign of benediction over them.
‘The blessing of Sigmar upon you and your clan,’ Aldred Fellblade replied.
‘Let’s go,’ Gotrek Gurnisson said. They hefted their gear and passed under the arch. Felix could see that it was marked with old dwarf 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 illuminated 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?’ Johann Zauberlich asked. Gotrek thrust the document into the magician’s hand.
‘It’s a map of the city copied from the master-map 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 sorcerer 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 is like no map I’ve ever seen,’ the mage said. ‘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, Herr Gurnisson, and Sigmar’s,’ the Templar said. ‘Lead on.’
Felix tried to count the number of steps he took but gave up at eight hundred and sixty-two. He had noted the passages leading off the Silverway and began to have some idea of the scale of the dwarf city. It was like the floating mountains of ice that 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,’ Gotrek explained. ‘Used to feed the city in winter. Looks like gobbos have been at Belegar’s stores though.’
‘If there are any greenskins near, they will soon taste my steel,’ Aldred Fellblade said.
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,’ Gotrek said, 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, prouder. 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 realised, suddenly aware of the immense weight of stone which 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 Jaeger thought he heard the sounds of furtive movement. When he looked towards the noise he could almost swear 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 at him. ‘Gobbo wall-drumming,’ he said. ‘They know we’re here. Best speed our pace to 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.
