Gotrek & Felix- the Third Omnibus - William King & Nathan Long

by Warhammer

  ‘I apologise,’ he said softly. ‘I am just tired and scared.’

  ‘Those are understandable things to be under the circumstances, Felix Jaeger. It does you credit that you know it.’

  ‘For a moment there I just didn’t see how we could do it.’

  ‘And you do now?’ said Teclis smiling.

  ‘It’s simple,’ he said. ‘All we need is an army to keep the Chaos warriors occupied. Gotrek and I will kill the giant, and you can deal with the wizards. Nothing could be simpler.’

  ‘A good plan, manling,’ said Gotrek. Felix thought he detected a hint of sarcasm in the Slayer’s voice, but he was not entirely sure. ‘And if the elf can’t deal with those spellcroakers, I will.’

  ‘I wished I shared your confidence, Gotrek Gurnisson,’ said the elf. His manner did not entirely reassure Felix.

  ‘I think parts of what you require can be arranged,’ said the Oracle. ‘It is only a matter of looking in the right place.’

  Excellent, thought Felix, I am going to take advice on how to look for something from a blind woman. He kept his thoughts to himself though. The blind woman smiled as if reading them anyway.

  ‘Now, Teclis of the elves,’ she said. ‘You must take this, and I will instruct you in its use, and then I will see to Dugal.’

  She lifted the amulet from atop the intricate rune-worked egg. Felix could see that it was made of stone, and covered in the now familiar runes. Since it was clear that she intended only the elf to remain, he got up, bowed, and left.

  ‘I hope she is teaching him some powerful magic,’ he said, as the sound of murmuring voices faded behind him. ‘We are going to need it.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Felix drew his cloak tight about him. The wind blew chill and cold here in the mountains. As they walked over the crest, he could see how deceptive the landscape really was. What looked like a range of high peaks were in fact many intersecting ranges of mountains, and between them lay many valleys and lakes.

  Up here, snow lay on the ground still and vegetation was scant. The only wildlife were some high-flying birds, and some wild sheep that bounded warily away when they saw humans. Below them were more pinewoods that rolled almost down to the shores of the lakes in some places. To the north, he could see what looked like a barren valley. What makes one valley fertile and another not he wondered, then shrugged. It was just one more of those questions to which he would most likely never find an answer.

  Behind him the tribesmen of Crannog Mere straggled out in a line. At the head of the column were the maiden-guard the Oracle had sent to guide them. The elf mage and the dwarf stood on the brow of the hill, staring around them. It was not the wild beauty of the landscape that held their attention, Felix could tell, but the cluster of circular stone towers that clung to the next ridge top. They were massive brutal structures designed to resist siege. Their only ornamentss were the omnipresent runes that echoed the tattoo patterns on the faces of the warriors. These had been painted in blazing lurid colours on the stonework. Doubtless they held some mystical significance. Perhaps he would ask the elf, he thought.

  From the tower a group of warriors had emerged and raced along the ridgeback towards them. There were several score at a rough count, and all of them armed. Felix moved closer to Gotrek and Teclis. He did not doubt that there would be a warm welcome for the Oracle’s followers, but he was not so sure how well things would go for strangers. Under the circumstances, he decided, it was better to be on the safe side.

  The folk of Carn Mallog were more bearish than wolvish, Felix decided. They were big men, burly and hard-faced. Their hair was long and shaggy, beards of almost dwarfish length sprouted from their faces, braided and twisted into all manner of fantastic patterns. Tattoos marked their cheeks and sword arms. Huge two-handed swords hung strapped to their backs. Long spears were clutched in their hands. Their clothes consisted of leather jerkins and woollen kilts. Long plaid cloaks covered the shoulders of most. Some had bearskins or wolfskins instead. They seemed to be the men of most importance. They eyed Teclis and Gotrek warily. Their looks made it clear that their reservations applied to Felix as well.

  ‘These men have swords,’ Felix said to Gotrek. ‘The men of Crannog Mere do not. Why do you think that is?’

  ‘It’s hard to work metal in a swamp, manling,’ said the dwarf.

  ‘Murdo has a sword,’ said Felix, just to be contrary.

  ‘I would guess he traded for it with the mountain men. Mountains and hills are where you find mines and metals, mostly.’

  ‘Why is that?’

  The dwarf shrugged. ‘Ask the gods,’ he said. ‘They put the metal there. Dwarfs just dig it out.’

  Felix could see he was not going to get any better answer. Teclis returned the men’s stares blandly, ignoring their open hostility. Murdo led a huge bear of a man over towards them and swiftly made the introductions. It turned out the man’s name was Bran MacKerog, chieftain of the men of Carn Mallog. There was no warmth in the greetings he gave them, only suspicion and perhaps a wary respect.

  ‘I give you thanks for aiding the Oracle,’ he said. ‘The light watch over her.’

  ‘No thanks are necessary,’ said Felix, seeing that his companions were not going to respond. ‘We merely did what any men would have under the circumstances.’

  As soon as he said it, Felix knew it was not the right thing. He doubted whether Gotrek or Teclis would thank him for comparing them to men. He could see that the thought that neither was human had already passed through Bran’s head. For all his brutal features there was a quick intelligence written in those cold blue eyes and that hard-hewn face. Felix doubted that a man got to be chieftain in the mountain tribes by birth alone.

  ‘You will take whisky with us,’ he said. Felix was not sure whether it was a request, a command or an invitation.

  ‘We will,’ he said quickly in case the others took it the wrong way. They moved towards the towers as night began to gather around the peaks like a cloak.

  Teclis limped along with Murdo on one side and Siobhain on the other. They had returned from their talks with the men of Carn Mallog. In the days it had taken them to get this far, both seemed to have accepted him. He supposed it made it easier for them that the Oracle had. Both talked freely and softly in his presence, at least as long as they were out of earshot of the others. Teclis listened with half his attention while his mind pondered the mysteries the Oracle had revealed to him. They had come to him as a profound shock.

  ‘It is bad,’ said Murdo. ‘The orcs are gathering in the mountains once more. Rumour has it that their shamans have whipped them up to try and retake their valley. Some sort of prophet has arisen among them. It seems they have dwelled there so long they regard it as their own.’

  ‘Is that so?’ said Teclis. It seemed his suspicions had been correct. The temple was the key to all of this. It lay at the centre of the vast web of the Paths of the Old Ones, and only from there could those arcane ways be closed once more, although it seemed the price to be paid might be very high. He wondered once more at the other things the old woman had told him. Was it really possible that the Truthsayers had been made privy to certain secrets of the Old Ones that not even the elves had been taught?

  ‘Indeed, Teclis of Ulthuan, it is so,’ said the woman. She smiled at him rather oddly, he thought, and touched his arm when she spoke. That raised interesting possibilities if his suspicions were correct.

  He smiled and returned his thoughts to their earlier track. Such a thing would certainly be a blow to the vanity of his people if it were true and became common knowledge. According to the Oracle it seemed the formation of the order of Truthsayers dated back to the legendary times when the Old Ones had walked the earth. Why had the elves not been told this? The Old Ones must have had their reasons. Perhaps there were factions among the Old Ones just as with every other race. Perhaps they did not want only one race to possess all magical knowledge. After all, they had given the skill of rune-cra
fting only to the dwarfs.

  ‘It seems we may face an army of greenskins as well as army of Chaos worshippers,’ said Murdo. He looked off at the distant peaks as if he suspected they might be hiding enemies.

  ‘That would not be good,’ said Teclis, shifting his attention back to the man. ‘We must reach the Chamber of Secrets in the Temple of the Old Ones if I am to do what must be done.’

  ‘I will help you all I can,’ said Murdo. ‘In any way I can.’

  ‘As will I,’ said Siobhain. There was definitely a glint in her eye, Teclis thought. Well, many human women had found him attractive down the ages, but at the moment he needed to keep his mind on other things.

  It appeared that the Old Ones had foreseen something of the coming catastrophe, and taught these human wizards to prepare for it. The great stone rings were a means of trapping and controlling the energy of Chaos. If what the Oracle had said was true, then it had not been the elven wizards who turned the tide in the ancient war against Chaos, but the Truthsayers and their stone rings. By draining off the magical power of Chaos at the crucial time, they had blunted its sorcerously driven assault on the world, although at the cost of polluting their own land as the stones’ power worked too well.

  Perhaps here was the real reason the Paths of the Old Ones had become contaminated. Perhaps it was from magical energy drained from Albion into them. Teclis dismissed the theory. He did not know enough. He reviewed what the Oracle had told him about the temple, and the amulet that now hung from his chest.

  It seemed that there were no Truthsayers left with the power to use it as it should be used, so it had fallen to him. He only hoped that he would be up to the task. He touched it with his long fingers. Of course he would. He was Teclis, greatest wizard of this age of the world. If he could not close the paths, nobody could. And that was the most worrying thought of all. If he could not do it…

  Ahead of them loomed the first of the great stone towers. It looked like they would arrive just in time for nightfall. Soon he would talk with Bran and the others about the Oracle’s plan. And after that… He smiled at the woman. She smiled back at him. We shall see what we shall see, Teclis thought.

  ‘How large an army has your Empire then, Felix Jaeger?’ asked Bran. Instantly all the large burly men surrounding him paid more attention.

  ‘I do not know the exact numbers, but many regiments,’ said Felix. On the walk to the tower, the mountain chieftain had shown great interest in the Empire and its weapons. War was his business, Felix supposed, and he was merely showing a professional interest. Either that or he was pumping him for information with a view to a future invasion. In any case, the questions and the talk always seemed to circle back to the question of military strength.

  Felix was not intimidated by the thought. From what he had seen of the men of Albion, the Empire had little to fear. As far as he could tell, they had no knowledge of gunpowder; they had no organised colleges of battle magic and no access to war machines such as steam tanks or organ guns. Their metalworking skills appeared quite primitive compared to Empire men or dwarfs. Still there was something about the mountain chieftain, a naked ambition in his eye that made Felix cautious whenever he spoke.

  ‘Your people are merchants, you say? Not warriors?’ The warriors of his bodyguard nudged each other and laughed as if the chieftain had made a joke. Felix was getting a bit tired of this.

  ‘My father is a merchant.’

  ‘That is not what I meant. You say the wealth of your nation is in trade. Is it a very wealthy nation?’

  Felix smiled coldly. Bran looked at him the way a robber might size up a rich merchant, or an extortionist a shopkeeper. There was a naked greed in his eye now that was quite obvious.

  ‘Very wealthy,’ said Felix. If this backcountry warlord wanted to harbour fantasies of pillaging the Empire, who was he to disabuse him? ‘But the dwarfs have even more gold than we…’ he added maliciously.

  ‘Aye, but if their warriors are all like Gotrek Gurnisson, ‘t’would be hard fighting to take it from them.’ Felix saw his meaning at once. He was taking Gotrek as representative of all dwarfs and Felix as representative of the men of the Empire. Felix did not take any offence. The simple truth of the matter was that Gotrek was a lot tougher than he was, although there was something rankling about the assumption.

  ‘You might find Felix Jaeger’s people harder than you think,’ said Murdo, as he fell into step beside them. ‘He is.’

  Felix was surprised to see him. Murdo had become thick as thieves with Teclis. A glance behind him showed the elf was walking close to Siobhain. Surely what Felix was thinking was happening there could not be happening. Maybe it was. Maybe Murdo was being discreet.

  ‘We will talk further about such things when we get within the brocht,’ said Bran. He did not seem to want to continue the conversation with the Truthsayer present. ‘Now I must speak with my chieftains. It has been a pleasure, Felix Jaeger. And to see you too, Murdo MacBaldoch.’

  As he watched the huge mountain men swagger away, Murdo laughed. ‘A good man, Bran is, but greedy and famous as a raider too.’

  ‘So I had gathered,’ said Felix.

  ‘A word to the wise,’ said the Truthsayer. ‘Do not talk to him too much about the riches of your homeland, or he is likely to forget all about the matter at hand and try and talk you into an expedition against your Empire.’

  ‘Are all of your chieftains like him?’

  ‘Unfortunately, most of them are. They would rather raid than rear their own cattle. It’s what makes our people so difficult to unite except in the face of a massive threat.’

  ‘Well, you face one now, don’t you?’

  ‘That we do, Felix Jaeger. That we do.’

  Once the tower door was barred, Felix felt like a prisoner. The walls were massive and thick and the place was dim and smelled of unwashed human flesh and animals and wood smoke. Bodies pressed all around in the gloom. It would be all too easy to stick a dagger into someone’s back in such circumstances, he realised. Unless they could see in the darkness, like an elf or a dwarf.

  There was nothing to be frightened about, he told himself. They had come with the Oracle’s blessing and no one would attack them. To do so would be an unforgivable insult to her and to their gods. He smiled sourly to himself. You have only their word for that, he told himself. And had not the ancient seeress herself hinted that there were those who worked against her, and her kind? What exactly were her kind, he wondered?

  He felt like he was once again trapped in a huge maze. He did not know his way around here. He could take nothing for granted. The dwarf stomped into view. Well, almost nothing. He could rely on the Slayer to be his usual obstreperous self. He was not sure that was an advantage when you were cooped up in a sealed fortress with a horde of armed men. Against so many, he doubted even Gotrek could prevail.

  He studied the place, looking for a way out. There was none that he could see. The place was barbarically simple. There was only one huge room with a massive wooden fire in the centre. The smoke ascended through a series of holes in the wooden floors above to escape through the tower top. The whole place was one enormous chimney, he realised. From what he gathered, each of these massive towers belonged to one family, and all of the families were part of one extended clan. Such was the social organisation of this part of Albion.

  From the shadows in which he stood, he could hear voices speaking. One was the booming voice of Bran. ‘We have sent messengers to the other clans with word of your coming. They will meet with us at the Ring of Ogh. The greenskins went too far when they attacked the sacred caves.’

  ‘Aye,’ Murdo agreed. ‘They did.’

  ‘Time enough for a drink,’ said Bran. All of the guests were brought to the long table and whisky was produced. All of them were within easy shouting distance of the chieftain. Bran clapped his hands, and fiddlers and pipers began to play as platters of food were brought out. Soon Teclis and Murdo were at work on either ear of the
chieftain explaining the situation, answering his probing questions. He seemed to take in the situation very quickly even as he swilled down whisky and chomped on a sheep shank. Felix found his attention drifting – he had heard enough about the paths and disasters to last him a lifetime, and the whisky was leaving a pleasant fire in his belly. Perhaps, he thought, when the others leave this place, I shall stay here. It’s come to something, he thought, when that is what qualifies as a pleasant fantasy.

  He felt a soft presence wriggle into place beside him. It was Morag, one of the maiden-guard. She was pretty with a freckled face and snub nose and short cropped reddish brown hair. She smiled up at him. He smiled back.

  ‘So tell me about the elf,’ she said. ‘How long have you been travelling with him?’ Felix groaned and began to talk.

  The slamming of a goblet on the table brought his attention back to Teclis and Bran.

  ‘No. It is madness,’ said Bran. ‘I will not lead my people into such a trap.’

  There was a distinct vehemence in his voice. ‘If you do not show us the high road into the valley the Oracle spoke of, then no one will. The curse will continue on the land. And in part it will be your fault.’ The elf’s voice was persuasive but Bran did not seem to have much trouble resisting his logic.

  ‘The orcs know of the road. It will be watched. Wait until the clans assemble, then we will force a passage.’

  ‘We do not have time,’ said Teclis. ‘It will take weeks to assemble an army and we don’t have weeks any more. We have days at most.’

  Felix suddenly gave the conversation his full attention. This was a new development. He had thought they were going into the valley with an army, but now it looked like the plan had changed. It was nice to be entrusted with such details, Felix thought.

  ‘I tell you the passes will be watched.’

  ‘The greenskins are concentrating their forces on the temple. They will leave only a small force at best.’