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

by Warhammer

  Gotrek snorted. ‘If somebody set off that much powder somewhere in Nuln, we would have heard it.’

  Midnight came and went. Gotrek remained at the window, watching intently, apparently untiring. Ulrika prowled from room to room, restless.

  Felix dozed fitfully, dreaming uncomfortable dreams of his times with her. It had been difficult to think of anything else since their conversation. Daggers of regret would stab him in the heart when he would turn his head and see her looking out of the window. Shards of memory would tumble through his mind, cutting everything in their path with their sharp edges. He would find himself thinking, there must be some way to fix this. There must be some way that, now that they knew each other and themselves, they could return to what they had, older, wiser, and forever. But there was no way. Ulrika had died seventeen years before, in the arms of Adolphus Krieger, and was given the semblance of life only by darkest sorcery from the mists of time. There was no way back from what she had become. There was no way to cure her but the stake or the fire or the sun.

  Felix raged silently at the unfairness of it all. How cruel was fate to allow them such an epiphany decades too late? Had they talked then as they talked now, they might have shared their life together, travelling the world side by side, sharing life’s wonders and horrors and joys. Instead they had both wandered alone among their companions, divided from each other by unbreachable walls of death, distance and misunderstanding. It was enough to make Felix want to weep, or fight something that would kill him.

  It occurred to him that, had Ulrika not been turned by Krieger, Felix might have tried much harder and much sooner, to turn Gotrek back towards the shores of the Old World.

  At last, almost three hours after midnight, Gotrek grunted, waking Felix from his fitful slumbers.

  ‘A visitor,’ said the Slayer.

  Felix and Ulrika stepped to the window. A coach was pulling up before Gephardt’s door. A man in a heavy cloak got out. Gephardt’s door opened for him, and the coach drove off as he entered the house. It was Gephardt that ushered him in.

  ‘Is he throwing a party?’ asked Felix. ‘At this time of night?’

  ‘A hunting party, perhaps,’ said Ulrika.

  For another half hour Gephardt and his guest moved behind the windows, talking and drinking, then another man, this one on foot, approached the house. Again, the door opened before he knocked and Gephardt let him in.

  Now, however, Gephardt did not entertain. The lanterns were quickly snuffed and the house went dark. Felix looked back and forth from the front door to the upper floors, expecting them to leave or retire above.

  They did neither.

  ‘They are leaving from the coach yard,’ said Ulrika. ‘I’m sure of it. My spies will tell me in a moment.’

  She scanned the roofs of the houses to either side of Gephardt’s house. After a second, a dark figure appeared and waved a hand, then pointed left.

  ‘Ah. I was right.’ Ulrika turned to the door. ‘Come. They are heading south.’

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  It would have been too conspicuous to follow in Ulrika’s coach, so Gotrek, Felix and Ulrika trailed Gephardt’s carriage through the Kaufman district on foot. With his short legs, Gotrek was at a disadvantage for this kind of work, but he plodded on tirelessly behind Felix while Ulrika sprinted ahead, disappearing into the shadows and keeping the coach in sight. Felix wasn’t much faster than Gotrek. The day’s rest had revived him, but it had also stiffened his wounds and tortured muscles. He limped and gritted his teeth with every step.

  The night was cold and blustery. Shutters rattled and trees rustled. The rains of the previous night had tapered off to sporadic sprinkles, and the moons appeared and disappeared behind a herd of racing clouds that filled the sky like a stampede of grey bulls.

  Ulrika soon vanished entirely ahead of them. Felix carried on in the direction he hoped she had gone, all the while wondering if she was leaving them behind intentionally – revenge perhaps for his not informing her and the countess about Gephardt. But then, after a few minutes, she reappeared in the distance, waving him forward.

  ‘They’re going into the Neuestadt,’ she said, as he trotted up to her. ‘Through the gate. I don’t think the watch will let you through.’

  ‘But you they will?’ Felix asked, sceptical.

  ‘I don’t need the gate.’

  ‘You have wings?’

  ‘Something like that.’

  Felix looked down Commercial Way. Gephardt’s coach was stopped at the Altestadt Gate while his coachman talked with the guards. How were he and Gotrek going to get through, and do it fast enough to keep the coach in view?

  Gephardt was the son of a rich man, with all a rich man’s trappings. He had the coach and coachman, faultless clothes, well-bred friends. If he said he was going to some brothel or gambling hall in the Neuestadt, the watch would touch their caps and bow him through. Would they do the same for Felix and the Slayer?

  Felix looked down at himself, taking stock. He was dressed well enough at the moment, and was well shaved, and that counted for something – the guard had woken him politely enough when they had found him in the alley this morning, instead of driving him out of the district with kicks and head-knocks – and even though he and Gotrek were being sought by the watch, his face was ordinary enough that he might be able to pass without them giving him a second glance, but Gotrek…

  Gotrek could not be called ordinary – not even by Slayer standards. If the guards at the gate had been given a description of him – and Felix had no doubt that they had – he would be recognised in an instant. They would be stopped. There would be questions, and most likely violence. Innocent men would be hurt and Gephardt’s coach would get away.

  Maybe they should go via the sewers again. But that would take too much time. Gephardt might be anywhere by the time they resurfaced.

  Gotrek strode up. ‘What’s the trouble?’

  ‘They’re going into the Neuestadt,’ said Ulrika.

  ‘The watch isn’t going to let us follow,’ said Felix. ‘They’ll question us. Arrest us.’

  The gates were swinging open, and Gephardt’s coachman was whipping up the horses.

  Gotrek growled. ‘If they want to arrest us, let’s give them a reason.’

  ‘We can’t do that. We…’ He paused and gaped at Gotrek. ‘Wait! That’s good. They want to arrest us. We’ll let them.’

  ‘Hey?’ said Gotrek.

  Ulrika cocked an eyebrow.

  ‘Just long enough to have them take us through the gate.’

  ‘Ah,’ said Gotrek. ‘Good thinking, manling. Lead on.’

  Felix turned to Ulrika. ‘Keep them in sight. We’ll catch you up on the other side.’

  ‘I’d rather stay and see this,’ said Ulrika, grinning. ‘But very well. Good luck.’

  She turned and ran down a side street, then disappeared into an alley in the direction of the wall. Felix stared after her. Her merry grin had gone through him like a hot poker.

  ‘Well, manling?’

  ‘Right,’ said Felix, snapping out of it. ‘Sorry.’

  He and Gotrek started towards the gate.

  ‘We can’t just turn ourselves in,’ he said, out of the corner of his mouth. ‘They’d know something was up. We need to look like we’re trying not to get arrested.’

  ‘And how are we going to do that?’ asked Gotrek.

  ‘Halt!’ called the watch sergeant, holding up a hand. He had six stout spearmen behind him, standing in front of the gate, all in breastplates and helmets. ‘State your business, sirs.’

  Felix and Gotrek halted. Gephardt’s coach was still just visible through the bars of the gate, trundling down Commerce Street as it curved east through the Handelbezirk.

  ‘Open the gates, my good man,’ said Felix in his snootiest voice. ‘I have urgent business at the Gunnery School.’

  ‘At this hour, sir? The school don’t receive visitors at this time of night, sir,’ said the sergeant
as he looked them over in the light of the guard house lantern. ‘And no one goes through this gate until sun up.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous. You let a coach through just now. Let us through.’ Felix waved an imperious hand.

  ‘The gentleman was known to us,’ said the sergeant. He couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off Gotrek. ‘And often has business at this hour.’

  And slips you a healthy bribe every night, thought Felix.

  ‘I demand you let us through,’ said Felix. ‘Countess Emmanuelle will hear of this if you don’t!’

  The sergeant shot a glance back at his men and they began to spread out. ‘I’ll have your names sir. You and your companion.’

  ‘My name?’ said Felix. ‘Damned if I will. I’ll have your commission, you lout. Let me through!’

  ‘Your names, sirs,’ growled the sergeant.

  ‘My name is… is… Lord Gesundheit, damn your eyes! And this is my servant, ah… Snorri Nosebiter.’

  The sergeant blinked for a moment, then shook his head in wonder. ‘Gesundheit and Nosebiter. Those are the worst false names I’ve ever heard.’ He turned to his men. ‘Take their weapons and put them in irons. I believe these are the “Heroes of Nuln” who are meant to be locked up in the College of Engineering just now. We’ll put ’em in Universitat station house until someone can be sent for tomorrow morning. Open the gate!’

  ‘How dare you!’ said Felix, as the guards started forward, spears at the ready. He saw Gotrek stiffen. ‘Play along!’ he muttered out of the corner of his mouth.

  ‘Aye aye,’ grumbled Gotrek.

  ‘Your weapons, sirs,’ said a watchman.

  Felix sighed and unbuckled his sword belt as the gate began to swing open. ‘This is a great indignity,’ he said, as he gave the dragon-hilted sword to a young watchman.

  Gotrek took his rune axe off his back, then paused as if he was reconsidering, his eye blazing. It looked like he might slaughter the watchman instead of handing it over. At last, with a reluctant grunt he held it out. The young watchman took hold of it, then stumbled to his knees, his arms nearly wrenching out of their sockets as Gotrek let go. It clanged off the cobbles.

  ‘Don’t dent it,’ Gotrek grumbled.

  The watchman struggled to lift the axe as he stared wide-eyed at Gotrek. He finally got it up to his chest and cradled it like a man carrying a barrel.

  ‘Your wrists,’ said the first watchman.

  Gotrek and Felix put their hands behind their backs and a third watchman slipped horseshoe irons around them and locked them.

  ‘Right,’ said the sergeant. ‘Four of you with Kulich. March!’ He bowed slyly to Gotrek and Felix as four watchmen prodded them forward through the gate, followed by the boy who was carrying their weapons. ‘Your lordship,’ he murmured with mock respect. ‘Master Nosebiter.’

  Felix could hear the sergeant’s men laughing as the others led them into the Handelbezirk. Gotrek rumbled in his throat, but said nothing.

  Felix looked ahead. Gephardt’s coach was just disappearing around the curve of Commerce Way, far in the distance. They needed to hurry, or they would lose them, but they couldn’t act until they were out of sight and earshot of the gate. He hoped Ulrika had made it over the wall as easily as she had said she could. Her scouting was essential.

  ‘Dorfmann, take this axe!’ rasped the young watchman, after a few streets. He was staggering under the monstrous weight of the ancient weapon. Even in the dark of the street Felix could see that his face was beetroot red.

  ‘Yer doing fine, Mittleberger’ said another watchman, chuckling. ‘Be there before you know it.’

  The others laughed.

  ‘I mean it,’ whined Mittleberger. ‘It’s slipping.’

  The watchmen only laughed harder.

  Felix looked over his shoulder. The gate was five blocks behind now, and edging out of sight. ‘Now,’ he said quietly.

  ‘About time,’ said Gotrek. He shrugged his massive shoulders and the chain between his shackles snapped.

  The movement was so small and calm that for a second the guards didn’t notice. It wasn’t until he stepped to the struggling Mittleberger and plucked his axe and Felix’s sword from him, that they turned and cried out in surprise.

  Gotrek butted Mittleberger in the solar plexus with his forehead. The boy fell back, gasping like a landed fish.

  Two guards rushed the Slayer’s back. Felix lurched right and shouldered into them. One stumbled into the other and fell. The other continued on. Gotrek spun and chopped through his spear, then shoved him to the cobbles.

  The other watchmen hopped back, lowering their spears and shouting at Gotrek to drop his axe. Gotrek slashed down at Felix’s back. Felix flinched, but the Slayer’s aim was true. The axe blade parted his chains with a ching, and he was loose. Gotrek tossed him his sword.

  Felix caught it and brained the fallen guard with the scabbard.

  The last two guards charged Gotrek. He sidestepped one and knocked aside the other’s spear, then upended him over his shoulder.

  Felix cracked that one over the head too, then did the same to the one with the halved spear. That left only the one who had charged past Gotrek still on his feet and fully conscious.

  Felix and the Slayer turned to face him. He stared at them for a moment, then turned and ran back towards the gate, screaming for the sergeant. Two steps later he staggered sideways, squawking, and fell on his face, unconscious. A bolt with a blunt fowling tip clattered to the cobbles beside him.

  ‘Who…?’ said Felix, looking around.

  A movement above him caught his eye. He looked up. Ulrika saluted from a nearby rooftop, a mere silhouette against the grey clouds, then waved them on.

  ‘Onward,’ said Gotrek, and they hurried down Commerce Street, leaving the dazed watchmen moaning and writhing behind them. Felix rolled his head around on his neck. He felt better. The fight had loosened him up a bit.

  A few blocks past the Reik Platz, Gephardt’s coach stopped and one of the men got out. His face was now hidden behind a yellow mask, but Felix could tell it wasn’t Gephardt. This man was too short and broad.

  From the shadow of a trading company office, Gotrek and Felix watched as the man nodded to the coach, then vanished down an alley between two tenements.

  ‘Do we follow him, or the coach?’ murmured Felix.

  ‘Gephardt is the leader,’ said Gotrek. ‘The others came to him. We follow him.’

  Felix nodded and they continued down the street as the coach started forward again. Far ahead of them he saw a blur of shadow leap from one rooftop to another, an impossible jump. He shivered. Whatever remnants of her old self remained, leaps like that proved that Ulrika was no longer one of his race. The shiver was followed by a sigh. If only the rest of her were as alien, he might find it easier to accept that what had happened to her was irreversible. But she was still too human – much too human.

  A while later the coach turned north into the Weston district. Felix and Gotrek hurried to the corner, then peered around it. The coach was making a left into a side street. They trotted to the next corner. The coach turned again.

  From another rooftop, Ulrika waved to get their attention, then motioned for them to hold. Felix saw the wisdom of this. The streets were wider and straighter in this stolid, burgher neighbourhood, and there were fewer places to keep out of sight. If they followed too closely they might be seen.

  After a few moments, Ulrika waved them ahead and they moved to the next corner. They travelled for a while in this stop and start fashion until the coach pulled up at a genteel looking tavern, dark and apparently shuttered for the night. Another man got out of the coach and rapped on the tavern door – two short knocks, a pause, then three knocks, another pause, then two short knocks again. It opened and he slipped in.

  Felix looked at Gotrek, for the man had been tall and thin, like Gephardt.

  The Slayer shook his head. ‘Too thin in the shoulders.’

  Felix nodded. Gotrek had a be
tter eye for scale and proportion than anyone he knew. If he said it wasn’t Gephardt, then it wasn’t.

  They made to follow the coach again, but it doubled back on them and they had to scramble to find a hiding place in the shadow of a deep door well as it turned onto their street. They held still as statues as it passed them by and continued on the way it had come.

  With Ulrika motioning them ahead at every corner, they trailed the coach south again until, after crossing Commerce Street, it entered the Shantytown district and stopped at last at a long wooden warehouse a street away from the wharves.

  Gotrek and Felix hid in the shadow of the arched gate of a boatmaker’s yard, and watched as Gephardt descended from the coach. And it was Gephardt. Felix recognised him by his strutting walk. The masked youth knocked, using the same rhythm as his companion had at the tavern, then slipped into the warehouse. The coach pulled away and started back in the direction of the Altestadt again. Felix frowned. Whatever Gephardt was up to, he didn’t intend to return home tonight.

  ‘This is his final stop,’ he whispered.

  Gotrek growled. ‘More final than he knows.’

  Ulrika dropped down beside them, as silent as a falling cloak. ‘A big gathering,’ she said. ‘I smell many scents.’

  ‘Good,’ said Gotrek. ‘My axe thirsts.’

  ‘We should learn what they’re up to first,’ said Felix.

  Gotrek grunted, impatient, but then nodded. ‘Aye.’

  Felix turned to Ulrika. ‘Can you hear them through the wall?’

  ‘Not well enough, but I have a better idea.’

  ‘Yes?’

  She nodded over his shoulder. ‘Look.’

  Felix turned. Two men in masks and cloaks were walking down the street towards the warehouse. They would soon pass their hiding place.

  ‘Disguises?’

  She grinned. ‘Aye.’

  Felix’s skin prickled. He didn’t like disguises. So many things could go wrong. ‘And how will we disguise Gotrek? A mask and a cloak won’t be enough.’