by Warhammer
Adolphus looked around once more. He could see a lot of sympathetic looks but no offers of help. Obviously this gang of youths was well known and greatly feared around here. There was going to be no other way out than fighting, he could tell. How unfortunate. He only hoped he could restrain his bloodlust.
The real problem now was a tactical one. How was he going to deal with this bunch of young thugs without arousing suspicion of his real nature? Perhaps he should simply leave after all. He rose from his chair and loomed over Kurt. ‘Do not bother yourselves, I am leaving. The smell of yellow-bellied swine is too strong in here for my stomach.’
He cursed. What had made him say that? If he had simply strolled confidently for the door, the chances were that they would have let him go. Now there was no chance of that. He knew the answer to his own question. Deep in his heart, he did not want to let these arrogant cattle live. He was as bad as they were. It was not a thought designed to enhance his self-esteem, and he knew he was going to make these youths pay for making him think it.
Kurt reached up and grabbed Adolphus’s shoulder. ‘Oh no, you don’t. You can’t simply walk away from this one, my friend.’
Adolphus glared down at him, allowing his anger to show in his eyes. Kurt quailed away and for a moment Adolphus thought he might actually let him walk, but the pig-faced lout was too drunk and stupid to listen to his instincts. He tried to restrain Adolphus who shrugged off his grip easily.
‘On your own heads be it,’ Adolphus said, as he stepped through the doorway, watching the young fools follow him out into the night.
He glanced around. They were in an alley. There was no sign of the watch. There were no witnesses about. The idiots had done his work for him. As they slouched out behind him, they made fists, fitted knuckledusters over their hands, drew small weighted truncheons. Experienced tavern brawlers these, he thought. Not that it would do them any good.
‘Now you’re going to get what you deserve,’ said Kurt.
‘One of us is,’ said Adolphus and smiled, for the first time showing all his teeth. In the dim light it took a few moments for the youths to register what they were seeing. Then their faces blanched. Kurt began to scream.
Adolphus kept smiling, knowing that he was going to kill them all, and that he had always intended to.
TWO
Felix looked down from the cockpit of the Spirit of Grungni. Below him he could see a seemingly endless waste of snow and ice. Far off at the horizon was the grey zone where the wastelands met the leaden waters of the Sea of Claws. Cold winds tore at the steel walls of the cupola and made the great gasbag above creak. The noise of the mighty engines was barely audible above the howling of the wind. He glanced across at Malakai Makaisson who stood at the huge control wheel, pulling levers and studying gauges with all the assurance of the experienced pilot.
‘Are you really going to get 5,000 gold crowns for this, Malakai?’ Felix asked. He had been surprised when Max had told him. He had never figured on the Slayer engineer being particularly gold-crazed. On the other hand, he was a dwarf, and a little of that lurked in every dwarfish soul.
‘Aye, young Felix, ah am! Tae tell the truth ah would have done it fur nithin’ but the bloody icy bezum kept gaun on and on at me, so ah figured ah might as well make it her pay fir it.’
Felix nodded: it sounded quite possible. Malakai Makaisson was as stubborn as any other dwarf and did not like being pushed into things. Felix was surprised he had not refused outright. He was quite capable of it, despite the Tsarina’s exalted position. Dwarfs cared little for human titles or nobles. And Slayers didn’t show the least respect for their own rulers, so why should they show it for other races?
‘So why did you agree to do it?’ Felix asked curiously.
‘Coz she was bloody well right. We dae need tae ken what the Chaos basturds are up tae, and the Spirit of Grungni is the best thing fur the job.’
Felix was also a little surprised that Malakai was capable of seeing things so clearly; he normally seemed obsessed with only one thing, his machines. Unlike most Slayers he did not seem to spend much time brooding on his own death or sins. He was not stupid, Felix had to admit, and he supposed that anyone capable of designing this airship had to be only too aware of its military possibilities.
A tide of movement out of the corner of his eye caught Felix’s attention. He focused the spyglass on it and the scene jumped into view. He shivered. It was another huge force of beastmen, heading southwards, following the coast of the Sea of Claws. They trudged along with implacable determination, their massive banners fluttering in the breeze.
Seeing the symbols of the Chaos gods so nakedly visible filled Felix with horror. They were signs which from his childhood he had been taught to fear and loathe. This one took the shape of an eye from which radiated eight arrows. It was stained in blood on a white sheet, and fluttered on a crossbar made of human bones and topped with the horned skull of some huge monster.
‘That’s the tenth warband in this area,’ said Felix.
‘How many?’
‘At a guess over a thousand.’ Felix did not need to count them any more. Over the past few days, flying these reconnaissance missions, he had become quite adept at judging the size of the Chaos forces. ‘Where are they all coming from?’
Suddenly he caught sight of something else, and swiftly focused on it. At first he could not believe his eyes, then slowly the reality of what he was seeing forced itself on his brain. It was a huge ship, driving through the icy sea. It was made all of black metal and no sails were visible. The whole prow was carved in the shape of an enormous daemon’s head. Red runes glowed along its side.
‘What in hell is making that thing move?’ he asked. Malakai Makaisson snatched the spyglass from his hand.
‘Tak the controls, young Felix, an’ tak us closer tae yonder ship. Ah want tae hae a guid lang look at this.’
Felix took the controls with practiced ease and aimed the prow out towards the sea. Malakai had taught him how to fly the ship long ago, and he had had a lot of practice on their trip back from the Chaos Wastes. It was one of the reasons why, along with his keen eyesight, he was the observer on this flight. Such was the airship’s speed that they were soon passing over the turbulent water.
‘Whit in hell wus right,’ said Malakai Makaisson. ‘Ah cannae see ony paddlewheels, and there’s nae wake that wud indicate some sort of drive screw under the thing. All ah can think o’ is dark magic, an’ that isnae ma field. Cannae think o’ onythin’ else that wud shift somethin’ that big. Bloody hell. I niver guessed they Chaos basturds were capable of ocht like this. It’s movin’ as fast as a steamer under full pressure and it’s as big as onythin’ ah hae ever seen on water.’
‘That’s all very well, Malakai,’ said Felix. ‘But what does it mean?’
‘It means ye’d better pray to all your manling gods that they don’t hae a fleet o’ those things, young Felix. Coz if they dae they’ll be able tae land an army onywhere they like alang the coast of the Old World. By Grungni, they could head right up the bloody Reik as far as Altdorf and Nuln.’
Felix shivered as Malakai took the controls and returned the spyglass.
‘I don’t think Sigmar is in the mood to answer any of my prayers,’ said Felix.
‘Why?’
‘Look over there,’ he said, pointing to the fleet of black ships driving headlong through the storm-tossed sea.
‘Let’s head fir hame,’ said Malakai. ‘Ah think we’ve collected enough bad news fir yin day.’
Felix was forced to agree.
Felix was glad to be back in Praag, even gladder than he had been to see the lights of the city winking below them and the huge citadel blazing with light ahead. Sitting in the White Boar he was looking forward to getting a hot meal inside him, and then some sleep. These days the airship always seemed cold inside, and no matter how many extra layers of clothing he wore, he could never quite get warm. His mouth felt a bit dry, and there was an odd tingle in his fingers a
nd toes. He hoped he was not coming down with something.
All around him he could hear the buzz of conversation, the gossip of all the mercenaries and merchants cooped up in the city by the snows of winter. The guild wanted permission to raise the price of corn once more, but the duke would not approve it. He wanted all of his citizens as well fed as possible, and no starvation. Felix felt that though he could never like the duke, he could respect the man and like his policies. He appeared to be about as fair as it was possible for an aristocrat to be, though Felix had never really lost the suspicion of the ruling class that had been burned into him by his merchant father.
It seemed six young nobles had died in a brawl down in the merchant quarter last night. According to rumour they had taken some wealthy foreigner outside to teach him a lesson and never come back. Their corpses had been found in the snow. The guess was that the foreigner must have had bodyguards or friends of his own waiting outside for it was deemed unlikely that one man could best six at blade work or brawling. Felix wasn’t so sure. He had seen Gotrek overcome many times that number in combat and occasionally had done it himself when desperation drove him.
Felix pushed the thought to one side. It was no business of his, even if the youths’ families were offering a huge reward to help them find the killer. What did he care? He could just picture the young men, spoiled dandies of the sort he had once been forced to deal with every night in the Blind Pig tavern in Nuln. He could not find it in himself to feel much sympathy with anyone who thought it fun to go outside six against one. Most likely they just got what they deserved.
This was not the only tale of slaughter in the night. Another two streetgirls had been found dead and drained of blood. Now there was fearful talk of some daemon stalking the night, and someone had even mentioned the dreaded word ‘vampire’. Felix shivered. His old nurse had told him chilling tales of the blood drinkers. As a child, he had spent many a sleepless night fearing that one might find its way into his room. He tried to push aside his fears and found that he could not. He had seen far too many other childhood terrors prove to be real in this terrible world. It would not surprise him in the least if one of the soulless ones were abroad in the city. He only prayed he would never encounter it. They were said to be terrible foes.
He noticed that one man was paying a lot of attention to this conversation. A tall nobleman, dressed in fashionably foppish clothes, a pomander clutched in one hand. His features were a little pale, perhaps from the powder applied to his face. His eyes were cold and his face wore a look of intense concentration.
The man caught Felix looking at him, their eyes met and Felix felt a flicker as of some sort of contact. He was suddenly filled with a desire to look away, but his own native stubbornness would not let him. He matched the stranger’s glare and studied him closely. The man wore his hair in an odd archaic style, cut square to cover his forehead, and long down the sides. There was something about him that made the hair on the back of Felix’s neck prickle. He had the same sort of aura as Max. Most likely a magician then, Felix decided, and someone best not to start trouble with. This time he looked away, just in time to see Ulrika and Max Schreiber enter the White Boar. They strode over to his table with a determined step.
What’s got into them, Felix wondered?
Adolphus looked up and watched the wizard and the woman enter the crowded tavern room. By all the gods of darkness, she was a beauty. Neither her mannish garb nor the sword she carried could detract from her loveliness. In a strange way they enhanced it. He felt the surge of an attraction the like of which he had not felt in a long time. It was a pity the man she was with wore power like a mantle.
In his long existence, Adolphus had encountered few more potent sorcerers. He was skilled enough in the art of magery to recognise a master when he saw one. He only hoped his own cloaking spells were sufficient to keep the man from noticing him.
He cursed himself for a fool. He should have stayed at the mansion and studied Nospheratus’s damn book. These nightly peregrinations might prove the end of him. After killing those louts last night, he had come to this squalid place to avoid any more attention. And what was the first thing he had done when he came down to the common room? Seeing the blond man staring at him, he had decided to use his gaze to make the man look away, but the mortal had proven unexpectedly strong-willed and could not be commanded. That in itself was unusual. Now the man had proven himself to be the associate of a master wizard. Perhaps this explained his strong will, perhaps not. Whatever it was, it was a bad thing. He only hoped the mortal would not draw the wizard’s attention to him, that was the last thing Adolphus wanted. He cursed; as so often in his long unlife, it seemed the gods were playing tricks on him. Now, with all his dreams almost within his grasp, nothing was going right.
He had given in to his bloodlust last night and slaughtered those young fools like the cattle they were. At least he had had the sense not to drink from them. He had managed to restrain the thirst until later when he had drained those two streetwalkers dry. Despite all his best efforts, he had not been able to resist the compulsion; he had not even wanted to. The thirst had not been so strong in him since he first arose. What was happening to him? What madness was overtaking him? Why did this constant lust for blood burn in his veins like a fever? He did not understand.
Perhaps it was this place. Praag was said to be a haunted city. Perhaps the strange forces of the town were working on him. Or perhaps it was the huge Chaos moon burning in the sky and haunting his dreams. He did not know, could not tell. He just knew that it was happening at the worst possible time for him and his plans. If only the old fool would prove more tractable. Adolphus resolved that if he did not give way in the negotiations soon, he would kill the man and have done with it.
Even as he thought this, he knew it was another symptom of the madness overtaking him. He knew he must hang on. It was all almost within his grasp. He could not afford any more mistakes now. He rose to return to Osrik’s mansion, taking the back exit. Best to get no closer to that wizard than absolutely necessary.
On his way out he paused to take a last long look at the lovely woman. Some night, he promised himself, I will come looking for you.
‘What is it?’ Felix asked. Max and Ulrika seemed both grim and excited at once.
‘Where is Gotrek?’ Max asked.
‘Out drinking with Snorri Nosebiter. Doubtless if you follow the trail of broken bodies along the street you will find them.’
‘That’s not funny, Felix,’ said Ulrika. Since the split she had taken to using a very cold tone towards him.
‘I wasn’t joking,’ said Felix. ‘You know what they are like when the mood is on them. What do you want with them anyway?’
‘We have been offered a job.’
‘We?’
‘All of us. You too.’ Privately Felix wondered who would be crazed enough to offer a job to a couple of Slayers. Someone pretty desperate, he guessed. Or badly in need of having a lot of violence done.
‘Does it involve killing big monsters, or fighting against insuperable odds?’ Felix asked sardonically.
‘I don’t think so,’ said Max. ‘At least I don’t know for certain.’
‘Then they probably won’t be interested.’
‘There’s a lot of gold involved,’ said Ulrika.
‘That would most likely change things.’
‘Then let’s go find the dwarfs and introduce ourselves to our potential employer.’
‘Who is he?’ Felix asked, rising and adjusting his sword belt. He noticed the rather sinister-looking nobleman had vanished.
‘A distant relative of mine,’ said Ulrika.
‘Half the nobles in this city are distant relatives of yours,’ said Felix.
‘That’s the way it is with Kislevite nobility,’ she said, a little huffily Felix thought.
The mansion was big and rather impressive in a scruffy down-at-heel sort of way. Felix paused to glance out of the window, taking in the huge
pleasure garden, surrounded by spike-tipped walls. The place must be worth a small fortune, he thought, before turning to follow the others. So much space came at a high premium inside the high walls of Praag.
Inside the house, bric-a-brac filled every nook and niche. Odd exotic weapons, and masks from the distant Southland lined the corridors through which the elderly servants led them. A porcelain statue of some four-armed monkey god, which Felix guessed was from far Cathay, guarded the entrance to a vast sitting room in which the owner lolled on a huge antique couch.
Count Andriev, Ulrika’s distant cousin, rather reminded Felix of a mole. He was a short man, very broad and bulky. He had a huge nose and vast whiskers that drooped below his chin. Little round glasses perched on his mountainous nose and obscured his small weak eyes. The count wore a long silk robe in the Cathayan style. He did not look like much of a warrior, although Ulrika had assured them he had been a famous swordsman in his youth. Now he leaned on a long black walking stick, clutching the silver ball at its tip with clawed arthritic fingers. He gazed around the room, taking them all in. A pull of a bell-cord summoned a tall, lean butler almost as ancient as himself.
‘Would you – ahem – like anything to drink? Some tea perhaps?’
Snorri Nosebiter and Gotrek looked at each other unbelievingly. They seemed to be wondering what they were doing here. They had been lured from the tavern by talk of lavish sums of gold. When Felix had found them they had been busy brawling with some Kislevite horse-soldiers. Felix and the others had stood aside while the two Slayers trounced four times their number before they could get their full attention.
‘Beer,’ grunted Gotrek.
‘Vodka,’ said Snorri. ‘In a bucket.’
‘I will have some tea,’ said Max. Ulrika nodded. Felix shook his head. He was interested now almost against his will. It was fairly obvious that this old nobleman was wealthy enough to have his own bodyguards, and without a doubt the treasures in this house were worth a lot of money. Why did he need them? More to the point, how had he found out about them anyhow?