Gotrek & Felix- the Second Omnibus - William King

by Warhammer

  Overcome with fascination, Max continued to trace the weave, overwhelmed by the subtle labyrinth of power that someone had created. He let his awareness slide along the intricate sweeps and curves of magical power, following them ever faster, certain as he reached towards the core of the design that he would be able to unravel its purpose fully and completely.

  Faster and faster his mind raced along, his magesight sweeping to the very centre of the pattern. He felt excitement build within him, as if soon all the innermost secrets of the magical universe might be revealed to him. Too late part of him realised the unnatural nature of the feeling. Too late part of him realised that the Eye was indeed trapped.

  Frantically he tried to shore up his mental walls, knowing that soon an assault would come. Even as he did so, his awareness finally reached the centre of the elaborate magical structure. At that moment, just before the wave of blackness swept over him, Max saw that the creator of the Eye, in a fit of megalomania or vanity, had left his signature upon the thing. Doubtless he wanted anyone who had unravelled his secrets to know their author before they were destroyed.

  Looking upon that mystical seal, as certain and as recognisable to any fellow mage as handwriting, Max felt himself overcome with wonder and terror. Before the darkness took him, he knew without doubt the identity of the Eye of Khemri’s creator, and he was very, very afraid.

  THREE

  ‘What have you found out, manling?’ asked Gotrek. He sounded bored and annoyed and Felix did not blame him. Several hours of searching Brother Benedict’s records had revealed next to nothing. The Eye of Khemri had been purchased from Zuchi & Petrillo’s in Altdorf, part of a lot sold to the auction house by the widow of one Baron Keinster of Warghafen. Felix had never heard of him, but it was hardly surprising. There were many old noble families in the Empire, far too many for anyone to ever keep track of. All he knew was that Warghafen was a small town near Talabheim, which was not a great deal of help. He coughed again, feeling a little shivery.

  There were references to a meeting with Adolphus Krieger. There were even two letters from the man, written in bold flowing Imperial script, requesting a meeting with Benedict and his patron, and referring to Krieger as a fellow enthusiast of antiquities. The address given was in Middenheim and they referred to an upcoming visit to Praag. There was no way to check the address now, unless Malakai Makaisson could be persuaded to take the Spirit of Grungni all the way to the mountain city state, and given the present circumstances that seemed like a frivolous use of his time. Anyway, Malakai was preparing to leave the city and head back to Karak Kadrin to ferry more dwarf troops into Praag for when the war renewed in spring, if not before. He had better things to do than go on a wild goose chase after someone who had most likely not been using his own name and address. Felix took the letters anyway. At least they were evidence that the mysterious Krieger existed and was not some figment of Andriev’s imagination.

  ‘Not much,’ he told the Slayer. ‘Benedict was a meticulous man, and he recorded all of his appointments, but there is not the slightest clue as to where he is and why he disappeared.’

  ‘Time to visit the mysteriously deserting guards then.’

  Felix nodded. He could not think of anything else to do. They had wasted the whole afternoon and a good part of the early evening here.

  Adolphus stalked through the snowbound streets. His cloak was drawn tight about him; its hood obscured his features. In the present weather conditions no one would find this in the least surprising. The streets were near empty, and those who were abroad this evening were often even more muffled than he. Adolphus still felt a little weary. Like all his kind, daylight slowed him and hurt his eyes. Too much exposure to the light of the sun would leave him badly burned and in considerable pain, and it would take a good deal of warm, fresh blood to heal him.

  He was feeling a little torpid. He knew that he had been feeding too much recently and too much blood could be as bad for him as too little. His head ached. His thoughts were restless and hard to focus. He wondered if some of the blood he had drunk was tainted, or whether he was succumbing to one of the insidious madnesses that the centuries sometimes brought to his kind. Once, when young and desperate, he had drunk the blood of a mutant whose veins had been tainted with warpstone. That had given him a similar feeling to this, only not nearly so bad.

  It was hard to concentrate. Anger burned deep within him. He felt an urge to rend and tear, to find prey and simply kill for the sake of killing. He fought hard for control. He did not need this, not now, not with so much at stake, not with the talisman he had sought for so long and so hard this near at hand. He needed all his wits about him, in case the others got wind of what he was up to. If the countess or some other representative of the Council of Ancients should learn of his presence here and divine his purpose, all might yet be lost. After all, they were as familiar with Nospheratus’s prophecies as he, even if they were too gutless to try to fulfil them. No, he could not afford any mistakes.

  Could it be that he wanted to fail? He had seen stranger things happen in his long existence. He had known some of his kind who used long quests to keep themselves motivated and interested, but who had allowed themselves to falter and fade once they had fulfilled their purpose. Maybe part of him wanted to avoid such a fate.

  He sensed that he was being watched, and allowed his awareness to balloon outwards. Footsteps padded after him. He could tell there were only two of them, and that they were not too close. Footpads most likely and desperate ones, to be abroad on a night like this. He speeded his step. He had business to be about this evening, and did not want to be distracted. He had wasted too much time in negotiations with the stubborn old man. It was time to take more direct measures. He had sent out his manservant Roche to summon the coven. It was a risk he would have to take; if the council’s agents found out about it, then too bad. The hour was getting late. He had other things to worry about. He wanted to find the Eye before the madness fully overwhelmed him. Perhaps with the talisman he could overcome its effects. Or perhaps the madness was a product of this accursed city, in which case the sooner he left the better.

  He realised that as he had increased his speed, so had his pursuers. He shook his head, trying to fight off the urge to turn on them and rend them asunder like a beast of prey. Quietly, he told himself. Be calm. There is no need for this. The beast that had taken up residence in the back of his head told him differently. The men were fools and they needed to die. It was an insult that such cattle dared to pursue him. Their rightful role was prey, not predator, and he should teach them the error of their ways.

  He slowed his pace. His pursuers were committed now. They came on as swiftly as before. How well he knew that feeling. The decision had been made. It was time to close for the kill. He waited until the last minute before turning to meet them. Two men, as he had known there would be. Medium height. Wrapped in thick tunics. His keen eyes picked out every stitch of the patches. Their faces were intent. Long knives glittered in their hands. They intended to show no mercy. They were going to kill him and take whatever he had – or so they thought.

  Adolphus did not even bother reaching for his sword. He knew he did not need it. The humans moved with appalling slowness compared to him. As the first reached him, Adolphus stretched out his arm, easily sliding round his attacker’s clumsy strike and grabbing his throat. One quick jerk and the man’s neck broke. Adolphus felt the vertebrae grind beneath his fingers, saw the light go out of the man’s eyes. The robber’s partner had not even realised what had happened yet; Adolphus did not intend to give him time to.

  He decided he would teach this foolish mortal the meaning of horror. He punched out with his hand. Such was the force of the blow that his fist penetrated flesh and dug deep into the man’s abdomen. Adolphus felt wet slimy things surround his hand. With the expertise that only centuries could bring he reached out and closed his fingers. Something squished; there was a curious gurgling sound as he ripped it free. />
  The man only started to scream when Adolphus held a slab of meat up before his eyes. It took the robber a moment to realise that it was his own liver.

  The guard lived in no salubrious area, Felix thought. No matter what Andriev claimed about paying his watchmen well, it was obvious that the money did not go on rent. The tenement was old. Rats watched them with glittering eyes as they made their way up the alley. Felix was uncomfortably reminded of the skaven he had encountered in Nuln.

  The door swung open on partially broken hinges. There was a grinding sound as the wood dragged across stone. The place smelled of cheap cooking oil and chamber pots, and too many people cramped too close together. Perhaps, Felix told himself, things had been better before the siege, before so many people had been made homeless, but somehow he doubted it. This building had the look of a place that had been allowed to go to seed a long time ago.

  As they entered, he became aware that other eyes than those of rodents were watching. An old woman glared at them.

  ‘Wot you want?’ she demanded, in a harsh, cracked voice that reminded him of a parrot’s screech.

  ‘We’re looking for Henrik Glasser, grandmother. Have you any idea where we might find him?’

  ‘He owe you money too does he? And I’m not your grandmother!’

  ‘No. We just wish to talk to him.’

  ‘You don’t look like the sort that just come around for a quiet conversation, and Henrik ain’t much of a one for small talk either.’

  ‘Just tell us where to find him, hag, and less of the backchat,’ said Gotrek. His voice sounded even more flinty than usual. The old woman looked as if she was going to say something cutting, but a glance at the Slayer’s brutal features and one mad eye convinced her otherwise.

  ‘Up the stairs, first landing. Door on the left,’ she said, and disappeared into her cubbyhole beneath the stairs rather more quickly than she had emerged. Felix heard a key turn in the lock.

  ‘We don’t want no trouble here,’ she shrieked once the door was securely in place behind her. ‘This is a respectable house.’

  ‘And my mother was a troll,’ muttered Gotrek. ‘Come on, manling, we don’t have all evening.’

  Felix strode up the stairs. Ten heartbeats later, he was banging on Henrik Glasser’s door. There was no answer. He glanced down at the Slayer.

  ‘There’s someone in there,’ said Gotrek. ‘I can hear breathing.’

  Felix could hear nothing but he had learned long ago that the Slayer’s ears were far keener than his own. ‘Open up, Henrik!’ he shouted. ‘We know you are in there.’

  Still no answer.

  ‘If you don’t open up by the time I count to three, I’ll break the door down,’ said Gotrek. Felix could hear no sound of movement. He looked at the dwarf.

  ‘Three,’ said the Slayer, and his axe smashed the door to kindling.

  ‘That wasn’t very nice,’ said Felix, leaping through the doorway.

  ‘He wasn’t going to answer, manling.’

  The stench of the place slapped Felix in the face, then rammed two fingers up his nostrils just to get his attention. The place reeked of unwashed clothing, unwashed flesh and uneaten food, as well as a lot of rotgut booze. A solitary candle guttered on a plate sitting on a broken table in the middle of the room. Felix heard rather than saw something slithering away out of the corner of his eye. Gotrek was already past him and in a moment, had dragged a pale-faced, fearful man into the light.

  ‘What do you want with me? Keep away! I won’t tell you nothing,’ said the man.

  ‘We’ll see about that,’ said Gotrek. His tone conveyed as much menace as a wolf’s warning growl.

  ‘All we want are the answers to a few questions.’

  ‘I don’t have any money,’ said the man. ‘I told Ari that, and I’m telling you the same. Maybe next week. Maybe once I find some more work. Breaking my arms won’t help. Ari will never get repaid that way.’

  ‘We’re not from Ari,’ said Felix.

  ‘It’s no use threatening me. I don’t have the cash. Tell Ari gold doesn’t grow on trees, you know.’

  ‘We’re not from Ari. We just want to ask you a few questions.’

  ‘You’re not from Ari?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then you have no right to come bursting through my door like that.’

  ‘Says who?’ said Gotrek in his most menacing voice.

  The man looked as if he wanted to say something smart but then thought the better of it. Felix did not blame him. When he wanted to, the Slayer projected more menace than a school of sharks.

  ‘We’re from your former employer, Count Andriev. Remember him?’ Felix asked.

  The man nodded. He looked a bit saddened. A little grieved even. ‘I never worked for the count, that was my brother, Henrik.’

  ‘You’re not Henrik Glasser?’

  ‘No. Pauli. Henrik’s gone. He vanished. Not that I blame him, mind you. Winter’s been hard, there was the siege and all. I figured he just got fed up working for that old madman and shipped out with a caravan.’

  ‘There’s no caravans leaving Praag at this time of year,’ said Felix. ‘None coming in either.’

  ‘Is too, if you know where to look.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked Felix. He had the feeling he already knew.

  ‘Smuggling’s always profitable, particularly at times like now, what with the duke’s tax collectors clamping down and all. You get my meaning?’

  ‘Only too clearly.’ He remembered his father’s constant grumbling about tax collectors in Altdorf and the fact that his old man had many connections with smugglers. It was one of the things that had built the Jaeger company to the size it was. Felix could see only too clearly how such things came about. There were always men willing to make a dishonest penny or two, even in times of catastrophe.

  ‘You think your brother left with smugglers?’

  ‘Where else would he be? He might have left me some word though, instead of running off without a by your leave and us owing on the rent and all. I don’t suppose you could see your way clear to lending me a couple of silver pieces, just until I get some work and…’

  Felix looked at the man, not quite believing his cheek. ‘How long has your brother been gone?’

  ‘A couple of days. About that silver – one would be enough.’

  ‘Anything else unusual about his disappearance? Aside from the fact he left no word of his going.’

  ‘I will have to replace that door after all. Old Gerti is most particular about things like that, and you two did smash it–’

  ‘It’s not the only thing I’ll smash, if you don’t start answering the questions,’ said Gotrek. Felix fumbled for his purse, as if he was considering looking in it for money. He knew the value of the carrot and the stick when it came to getting answers.

  ‘No. Except he never told Nell, his girl, either, and they were close as two thieves in a thicket. Closer. She’s been round a few times asking for him and doesn’t believe I don’t know where he is.’

  ‘I don’t believe you either,’ said Gotrek. He raised his axe menacingly.

  ‘There’s no need for that. I’ve told you all I know. Honest. As Ulric is my witness, why would I lie about it? To tell the truth, I wish you luck finding my brother. Remind him about his share of the rent when you see him.’

  Felix looked at the Slayer. He could tell they were thinking the same thing. There was nothing more to be learned here.

  ‘This is a bit of a wild goose chase,’ Felix said, drawing his cloak closer against the cold. The Slayer glared off into the darkness.

  ‘Tell me about it, manling.’

  ‘Well, at least we know that Krieger or someone calling himself that exists, and that Andriev wasn’t lying about his guards or his tame wizard disappearing. I don’t think we need check on any of the others. I have a pretty good idea of what we will find. I don’t think Pauli will be seeing his brother again.’

  The Slayer nodded
once again.

  ‘Back to the mansion then.’ They trudged into the night and the deepening snow.

  Adolphus glanced around the room. It was warm. It was luxurious. Osrik always liked to do well by himself, and his guests. He could smell wine and fresh cooked food and blood – lots of human blood. Thick hangings of brocade covered the windows, keeping out the night chill. Portraits of noble ancestors covered the walls. The carpets were thick, the furniture old and polished and heavy. The place suited the wealth of its other occupants. They looked on him with adoring eyes.

  He was used to it now. He had selected them himself, just after he reached the city. Some of them he had known in other places, and other times. He had first met Baroness Olga nearly a decade ago. He had drunk from her veins in a scented garden in the warm south of Bretonnia, and she had been his willing slave ever since, finding new chattels for him, introducing him to other nobles, ensuring that his coven grew in size and influence.

  She had proven most useful, although her thinness and the sickly light in her eyes told him that soon she would be fading. Standing too close to the sun was not good for mortals. Being on intimate terms with the Arisen had a tendency to drain them of youth and strength before their time, if they were allowed to survive at all.

  Not that it mattered. There were always others willing to step up and take their place. Their owners always fascinated the cattle. None knew better than Adolphus the way the aura of immortality and power and beauty affected them. He had been overwhelmed by it himself when he had first met the countess all those centuries ago, and she had chosen him.

  And that was what this was all about, he knew. Being chosen. All of these rich and powerful people present this evening hoped that eventually he would grant them the embrace. All of them knew it was unlikely he would choose to, but the hope of it kept them going, motivated them to do what Adolphus wanted willingly. Not that they had much choice anyway. He had tapped all of them for blood and that created a bond that was hard for all but the strongest to break.