When it was done, once all hint of movement and every last twitch among the animated bones had quelled, Felix dropped down to one knee. He held out his sword to prop himself up. Erhard too permitted himself a rare moment’s rest, taking a seat on an empty helmet as he felt under his shirt, gauging the depth of his wound.
‘I don’t know how much more of that I could have taken,’ Felix said, out of breath as the sweat dripped from his hair.
‘Nor I,’ Erhard wheezed. ‘I’m not a young man anymore. If we don’t find our destination soon, I’m likely to end up just like one of these old boys here soon enough.’
Felix laughed.
‘Nonsense, old man,’ he said. ‘You’re not done yet.’
Draeder, breathing heavily himself, though he had taken down the fewest of the assailants, was the first to return to his feet.
‘We must keep moving,’ he said.
‘Not yet, at least permit Erhard a moment,’ Felix said.
‘We know there are more of these creatures lurking beyond. The longer we remain in one place, the greater the chance that more of these things will find us,’ Draeder replied.
Felix was about to argue, but Erhard stopped him as he began to get up, having already tied a torn piece of cloak around his upper arm as a makeshift bandage.
‘He’s right, Felix,’ the sergeant said, as he took up beside Draeder to continue on ahead. ‘Don’t worry about me, young man. I’ll be just fine.’
10.
They passed through the remainder of the outer precincts quickly after that, but always on guard for more undead sentries. Feeling the effects of their long struggle, each one of them haggard and pushed nearly to the limit, they now preferred discretion to valour. Careful in their every movement, they skirted the edges of ruined gardens and kept off anything that looked like a pathway. In so doing they managed to avoid two more such patrols as they charted a winding course deeper into the heart of the valley.
Finally, they came to the ruins of a large stone wall, which seemed to mark a border of sorts, to what had once been some kind of inner realm. Beyond it stood more elements of ancient architecture, but they quickly saw that these sections were somehow better preserved than the faded, crumbling ruins scattered through the remainder of the valley. While the columns and courtyards that lay ahead had also fallen into disrepair, overgrown with weeds and black lichen, their condition suggested that they had been abandoned much more recently, hundreds of years past perhaps, rather than thousands.
The style of the carvings and stone work differed in another respect as well, and it was one Felix took note of straightaway. Where the age-worn, dilapidated ruins of the outer valley hinted at a kind of lost elegance, a sort of finery rarely seen in the Empire, what they gazed upon now were grim, dour monuments.
Skulls replaced floral motifs atop the columns. Sigils depicting fangs and crossed swords glared in faded tones across the flagstones and the archways. From atop the broken stone embankment, Felix caught a hint of what lay even further out, behind the gruesome landscape, still half-shrouded in the mist.
He could barely discern the outline of a tall tower, cast in silhouette by the fog and the moonlight, looming in the distance directly ahead of them. He pointed it out to the others.
‘The tower of Skethris,’ Draeder said. ‘We’re nearly there.’
They pushed on, risking a final approach without benefit of cover. But the moment they moved out into open ground, they realized that they weren’t alone.
Directly before them stood a portal that opened with three archways. Beneath each one stood what at first appeared to be great statues of magnificently armoured warriors holding large, curved swords before them. When the massive warriors began to move however, marching out in unison toward them, it was clear that they faced yet another, even greater set of guardians.
Though only three, matching them man-for-man, it was obvious that these warriors were of a different, more dangerous sort. While the guardians were skull-faced, just as their brethren in the outer valley, these tall warriors were well-armoured from head to toe. Mail hoods and full length hauberks covered their bones, overlaid with bronze plate. They carried massive round shields and huge broadswords.
Their hollow eyes glowed with a foul green light.
‘Skeletons they may be, but it’ll be much tougher to take their heads from their necks,’ Felix said. ‘And I don’t honestly know how much strength I have left.’
Erhard grimaced, his wound clearly bothering him more than he wished to let on.
‘We cannot fight through such a force again,’ he complained.
‘Agreed,’ Felix said, turning to Draeder. ‘Have you truly no spells to combat such a scourge? I can’t believe the winds of death are no help against warriors who are themselves undead!’
Erhard sneered.
‘I wouldn’t look there for assistance,’ he said, lifting his blades once more for what now seemed the most desperate of fights.
This time the insult appeared to motivate Draeder, and he stepped nearer to Felix, leaving Erhard apart and closest to the ghastly sentinels.
‘Dead or not, if I cannot stop them, I may be able to draw up a spell that will hold them – for a while, at least,’ he said. ‘But I’ll require time to summon the winds of Shyish.’
Felix acknowledged him with a hard pat on the shoulder. Then he closed ranks with Erhard, coming shoulder-to-shoulder with the sergeant.
‘Let him fall back to work his magic,’ Felix said. ‘It’s the only chance we have.’
Erhard refused.
‘He’ll do nothing of the sort!’ he said. ‘He’s not capable of it!’
Felix looked back to the wizard.
‘Can you do it?’ he asked.
Draeder looked to the attackers, marching forward and nearly upon them. Then he gazed back to Felix.
‘Of course, I can,’ Draeder replied, as if it were not even a question. ‘But you must hold them at bay long enough for me to perform the rite, or I will not be able to loose it upon them.’
Felix took Erhard by the arm.
‘What other choice do we have?’ he asked.
The sergeant grudgingly acknowledged. Felix looked back to Draeder.
‘Stay behind us,’ he said. ‘We’ll hold them here for as long as we can, but waste no time. The moment you are able, cast your spell!’
Draeder assented with a nod. Felix and Erhard rallied. They shouted curses and battle cries and they met the charge of the guardians head-on. Hacking and chopping for every inch of ground, the exhausted swordsmen parried every blow of the undead warriors, listening to the archaic verses that Draeder chanted behind them. Bones and blades and broken shields scattered in every direction. Dust choked the staid, foul air.
Struggling for every foothold, Felix slashed his way forward. For a brief moment he managed to push back against the onrushing skeleton sentinels, cutting ancient armour and brittle bones with every stroke. But the offensive lasted only an instant. Beside him, Erhard howled as he took another blow. Blood spilled out from a fresh wound in his leg, hobbling him.
‘We can’t hold them Draeder! Let loose your spell, by Sigmar!’ Felix shouted.
The wizard stepped forward, raising his scythe and calling out the final words to summon the magic he sought. Felix and Erhard continued to battle in close-quarters, in brutal hand to hand combat, holding off the skeletal guardians in an increasingly failing effort.
When Draeder’s incantation seemed to accomplish nothing however, leaving him standing behind them with no magic summoned to his call, Erhard only renewed his jeering.
‘Damn you!’ he cursed. ‘I knew this was folly. We’re now doomed because of you!’
Felix however, remained resolute. He turned to Draeder again, who now looked sheepish and terrified at the onrushing attack he seemed powerless to stop.
<
br /> ‘Try again!’ Felix shouted.
Draeder wiped the sweat from his brow, his hands trembling. He lifted his staff and once more began the spell. But Erhard’s strength had already run out. He screamed, swinging his arms in a wild fury as one of the guardians drove its blade deep into his gut.
Felix held his ground still, but as soon as he heard the old sergeant’s terrible scream he knew what had happened. Even as he fought on, he peered out of the corner of his eye watching as Erhard beat back the skeletal warrior who had impaled him, until his blade managed to cut through the undead walker’s spine, reducing it to a crumpled heap of bones.
Now there were only two guardians remaining, but Erhard didn’t stand much longer. With blood drooling from his lips, the grizzled old sergeant dropped to his knees. Felix abandoned all caution then, fighting his way over to the old soldier, knocking the remaining two guardians back a pace with his sudden, bold counter-attack.
When Felix turned, he saw something he did not expect. Draeder had stepped up in his place, standing alone against the two remaining skeletal warriors. With a swing of his scythe, a pale ring of purple mist did finally spread out across them. It seized the pair, holding them fast and quelling their attack.
Safe for at least a moment, Felix help Erhard to the ground. Blood was spilling out from the wound in his stomach, gurgling in his throat. The old sergeant clutched at Felix’s cloak as he came to rest in the dirt.
‘Easy, old timer,’ Felix said, trying to comfort his companion though he knew very well the wound was mortal.
Erhard pulled him close, near enough to whisper with his last bit of breath.
‘Trust your instincts…’ he wheezed. ‘He’s not what you think… not what he says…’
Felix puzzled, again trying to comfort the dying warrior.
‘You must listen,’ Erhard managed. ‘You’re a good man. You’re not like him.’
Felix tried to encourage the grizzled veteran, but the man had nothing left. His eyes froze just then as his chest stopped moving. Then Ernst Erhard, sergeant at arms for House von Halkern, died in Felix Jaeger’s arms.
Felix’s cradled the body of his fallen friend, holding him tight for a long, quiet moment. Tears choked his eyes, running down through the grime on his cheeks.
When he finally wiped them away, to look out at the stilled scene of battle, he saw Draeder, standing over the frozen sentinels. The young wizard wore a gleaming, triumphant look upon his face, all-but ignoring the death of his loyal, long-time servant.
Felix looked back at the dead man resting in his embrace. Despite Draeder’s obvious success, or perhaps because of it, Erhard’s last words repeated in his mind. He felt a chill run through his blood, making him shiver down to his bones.
11.
Draeder and Felix pushed ahead. They had no choice now. It was not long before the fog cleared out, and a space opened before them that evoked both awe and terror in equal measure.
The tower they had glimpsed in the distance was even more fearsome up close. Skull-topped flag poles crowned with bronze wings flanked a long avenue leading to its gates. They lined the narrow path from the outer grounds into the very centre of the cursed estate. The standards themselves were worn. The fabric was faded and the ends tattered and frayed. But the sigils remained evident, skulls, blades and the bony wings of bats.
Twin statues stood at the terminus of the death-walk. The figures each guarded an obelisk of pure obsidian glass that reflected their shapes in the weak moonlight. Both were carved from a single slab of alabaster five times the height of a man. Garbed in archaic armour, with scythes and oval shields, their faces were skulls.
‘Fantastic,’ Draeder whispered. ‘He made this a monument to the worship of death itself.’
Still reeling from the death of Erhard, Felix could say nothing, merely taking in the evil vista. The tower of Skethris loomed beyond. It was not at all what Felix had expected it to be. It was much worse.
No common citadel lorded over the centre of the wicked grounds. Stout defensive turrets crowned with bastions and crenulated walls formed the core of it. The base and the sides of the structure were solid, old stone; great, hewn mega-blocks of basalt and black marble locked together in perfect order. But there was something gruesome about it as well. The steep outer walls were interlaced with something else, and that was neither stone nor mortar.
Felix stared at the massive, eerie tower, and he shuddered when the dreadful realization came to him, peering ever closer. The remainder of the structure was the dirty yellow shade of old bones, as though the entire keep had been somehow fortified with the remains of the un-living.
The skeletal conglomeration seemed welded to the stone keep in a twisted, parasitic fashion, as though not built or fused to the original structure by ordinary means, but rather something that had grown into place; like the gnarled, fractured trunk of a long-dead tree or some great, thorny weed that threatened to swallow the host upon which it climbed. Outcroppings extended from the whole ghastly length of it, bony arms reaching out to the darkness. Some were interwoven amongst themselves, creating a frightful skeletal lattice-work all around the structure.
Dark stains befouled the whole of it, dry rivulets of deep red that hinted at something unimaginable, a downpour of blood or the proceeds of some immense slaughter draining away from the misty heights, the site of such atrocities now hidden behind the clouds.
Felix couldn’t help but pause, standing in grim awe of such dark and evil splendour. But Draeder was unmoved. Holding his scythe high, he yanked Felix by the shoulder and pulled him into the musty shadows of the necromancer’s tower.
‘We’re close now,’ he said. ‘Very close indeed.’
They forced open the tall, rusted-out iron gate, raising a gritty, high-pitched creak from the old hinges. It required the strength of both men to edge it apart wide enough for them to pass, the joints nearly frozen in place after ages of disuse. Behind it was a small ante-chamber under a vaulted arch. A gauze of cobwebs hung down, blocking the way. Felix cut them apart, spilling a cloud of dust into the staid air. He coughed as they moved forward, Draeder doing the same as he followed.
Behind the entranceway, the inner tower opened into a round chamber. It too was suffering the effects of age and neglect. A thick carpet of dust and old webs coated everything. It smelled rotten, musty and decrepit like an old tomb opened after centuries under seal.
‘The Book of Ashur should be with the altar,’ Draeder said. ‘That would be at the highest point of the tower.’
Felix pointed to the spiral staircase that wound its way up along the far side of the chamber, leading up to the entrance of a second level. It was rusted and swathed in gray, but it made for the only path they could follow.
Though Felix took the first steps on the old stairs, testing if the iron was any sturdier than it appeared, Draeder quickly pushed past him, taking the lead as they proceeded into the upper reaches of the tower.
Above they found nothing more than a second chamber of the same sort. The entire place seemed to have been unused for quite some time. Finding nothing of note, Draeder wasted no time, following the stairs ever higher.
They fought through several rounds of spider webs and rotten stenches stirred up by their arrival, climbing nine such levels without any hint of an end. Already exhausted from the constant fighting and now nearly out of breath, Felix finally paused at the base of the next level before continuing their seemingly endless ascent.
‘From the outside this tower looked no taller than five, maybe six storeys, at most. Yet we’ve already scaled nearly twice that, and seem no nearer to the top,’ he said, gasping a bit. ‘How can this be?’
‘The winds of magic can be turned to many purposes,’ Draeder replied enigmatically.
The strangeness did not appear to disturb him, and his answer seemed to Felix like nothing more than an after-th
ought. Instead, he merely continued to chart the path forward, looking up to yet another level.
Coming up through the tenth level however, they met with an obstacle – a wall of broken stone. The rubble of some ancient collapse, blocks of shattered stone from the level above had fallen in, piled to the ceiling, clogging the stairwell that was their only path further up.
Felix looked around. There were only a few small windows and no corridors leading off the main chamber. For a few minutes, he and Draeder tried to peel away the fallen roof, but the effort left them no closer. Behind each stone lay more rubble, and the largest of the blocks were too big for twenty men to budge.
‘It’s no use,’ Felix finally said, wheezing and out of breath. ‘We have no idea how high up this goes. All we know is that we are no closer to a way through it, and half of these stones will not move no matter what we do.’
‘So close,’ Draeder whispered. ‘Again, so close. And again, we face a barrier we could not have foreseen.’
‘On that, finally, we agree,’ Felix said.
He picked up one of the smaller stones. Grunting with frustration, he heaved it across the hall. It smashed against the old wood of the nearest shuttered-up window. The stone broke through the aged timber, opening a portal to the sky beyond. Mist from outside drifted in through it, breaking the staid air of the tower.
Draeder jeered at the seemingly pointless act, turning to once again study the stone blockade. Felix, however, fixed his eye on the window. Something had caught his attention.
He went over to it, tested the heft of the remaining shutters and then stepped back. With a snarl that drew Draeder’s eye back to him, he drew his sword, reared back and broke out the rotted wood of the shutters, opening the entire window to the outside.
Beyond was not a flat wall, but a ledge. He scanned the side of the tower, looking over the walls. The entire structure was composed of irregular blocks overlaid by the grisly bone-lattice that encircled the whole of the tower.
‘I have an idea,’ Felix said.
Into the Valley of Death Page 8
