Gotrek & Felix- the Second Omnibus - William King

by Warhammer

‘You should also protect your head. It is the seat of your soul, or at least your mind. If your brain is damaged you will go mad, or lose memories or become an unthinking soulless brute. Having your head parted from your body, having the brain scooped out and burned, is the surest way of finding a real death. You would do well to avoid it.’

  ‘What about magical powers? I have always heard that vampires gain many sorcerous powers through pacts with the Dark Ones.’

  ‘Our powers do not come from the Lords of Chaos but they are very real. There are many ways to compel mortals to your will, to fascinate them, bedazzle them and ultimately to command them. Again, these things take a long time to master and I will teach you how to use them as and when I can.’

  ‘It seems you intend to keep me very dependent on you.’

  ‘Why not? These are traditional roles in our society. I am the master. You are the apprentice. I will teach and in return you will obey.’

  ‘And if I do not want to? What will you do then?’

  He smiled, showing all his teeth, and gestured to the talisman at his throat. ‘Believe me, you have no choice. I command you to obey me in all things, to serve and protect me, until I release you from this binding.’

  Even as he spoke Ulrika felt the compulsion settle on her mind like burning fetters hot from the forge being hammered onto the limbs of a condemned prisoner. She wanted to scream and to resist but there was nothing she could do. The power of the Eye of Khemri and of the will behind it was too great. She knew she was overwhelmed now, as surely as she had been by the red thirst earlier. Part of her actually wanted to obey. The spell was very strong.

  ‘This is a very great honour, Ulrika. You will be the first of many bound to my service. Together we will forge a new empire and bring a new age of darkness to the world.’

  TEN

  ‘We are very close now,’ said Max. His voice sounded gloomy and bitter, half crazed with fear and frustration, but Felix did not doubt that he was right. The cloying evil in the air was almost tangible. He felt as if eyes watched him out of every shadow. He wanted to turn and run before whatever it was that waited out there came to get him. It was an effort of will to keep from constantly glancing over his shoulder.

  It was these ruins. They were depressing him more than even the normal buildings of Sylvania. He told himself to be glad they had found some shelter. Even this old abandoned manor with its tumbled down walls and collapsed roof was better than nothing with a storm coming. At least the walls provided some shelter from the wind. He just wished it did not remind him so much of those tales he had read as a youth.

  The forest was deep and dark. The sense of corruption was more intense. The snow here was a thin crust over the tainted earth. A miasma of evil rose from it. There were times when Felix found it difficult to breathe. It was late afternoon, and the shadows were lengthening. The ponies whickered nervously. Felix drew his cloak tighter about him, and then made sure his sword was loose in its scabbard.

  From up ahead he could hear the sound of horses forcing their way forward. It had started to snow again, big flakes falling fast, so many of them that they obscured vision more than a few feet away. Their coldness brushing his cheek felt like the touch of dead men’s fingers. He cursed and wondered whether they would all die in the blizzard. It would be ironic after they had come all this way.

  Felix wiped his running nose on the edge of his cloak and looked at Gotrek. At that moment, he heard soft sounds of approaching movement from up ahead. His hand flew to the hilt of his sword.

  The Slayer held his axe negligently in his hands. He looked as relaxed as he ever did. ‘Tis just the scouts returning, manling.’

  A moment later Felix saw that he was right. Two of the Kislevites had returned, Marek and another man. Their faces looked at once excited and afraid. They rode up to Ivan Petrovich and Marek spoke swiftly in a loud voice so that all could hear.

  ‘Drakenhof Castle ahead of us about two hours’ fast ride. A terrible sinister place it is, half in ruins, but at least partially occupied. We saw many men marching through the snow towards it. At least they looked like men – but they moved slowly, as if under some evil spell.’

  Ivan Petrovich cocked his head. ‘How many?’

  ‘Many. Coming from all directions and converging on the castle. And we saw other things. Their tracks, anyway, before the snow started to fall.’

  A thrill of fear passed through Felix.

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked Ivan Petrovich.

  ‘We saw footprints in the snow around the mansion. Lots of them. They appeared to be human…’

  ‘Appeared to be?’

  ‘They were bare-footed, no shoes or boots.’

  ‘And there were small indentations at the toes that looked like… well, like the marks of claws.’

  Felix thought back to what they had seen on the outskirts of Waldenhof. It sounded like the tracks of ghouls. He caught enough of the rest of the scout’s speech to guess that they thought the same.

  ‘We could camp here tonight,’ said Marek. ‘There is no sense in going on through this storm.’

  Ivan Petrovich listened to the rest of the scout’s reports and then wheeled his horse round and rode towards them. Max had already stridden over to stand beside their sled. Rodrik was with him.

  ‘It seems we have found what we were looking for,’ said Max. ‘I think we have tracked the monster to his lair.’

  ‘Aye, but there is no way we can reach there tonight. Not in this weather.’

  ‘What are we going to do?’

  ‘We should camp here,’ said Ivan Petrovich. ‘The men will be tired and hungry. I say we wait till tomorrow morning and push on then.’

  Max nodded his agreement, as did Rodrik. Gotrek looked around as if he was going to disagree but to Felix’s surprise he glanced over at the countess’s coach and then kept his mouth shut. Felix thought he could read his mind. The Slayer did not trust the countess and did not want to abandon these men to their mercies. Besides, if she attacked them, his oath would end and he could fight her. Felix did not doubt that one vampire was very much as good as another for Gotrek’s purposes.

  ‘We will post a very careful watch tonight,’ said Max.

  ‘I will double the sentries and make sure they guard in pairs tonight to keep each other awake,’ said Ivan Petrovich.

  ‘I will keep a careful eye open myself,’ said Gotrek. He rubbed his eye patch so ostentatiously that Felix wondered if he was making a joke.

  ‘They are out there,’ said Adolphus Krieger, leaning forward on the Throne of Blood.

  The ghoul who had brought the word lay sprawled on the cracked mosaic of the floor, its arms stretched out before it in a gesture of abject fealty. Adolphus paid it no more attention than he would any other piece of furniture. He glanced around at Ulrika, Roche and the rest of his followers. They looked around uneasily. Overhead, in the shadows, something vast flapped leathery wings.

  ‘Who are they?’ Ulrika asked. Obviously she had difficulty following the ghoul’s slurred words. Krieger smiled fondly at her. She seemed to be adapting well to her new role. She was docile and obedient. If he detected a look of trapped horror far back in her eyes, he chose to ignore it.

  ‘Our enemies. Warriors of some sort, strangers mostly. Outlanders it seems, sheltering in the ruins of the old Rattenberg house. The ghoul does not know enough to tell us any more.’

  ‘What do you intend to do?’ She walked over and stood in front of the dais, staring up at him boldly. He wondered how she felt. This was all new to her. He could remember his own horror and wonder at the strangeness of his condition when he was freshly risen. He felt a surge of affection such as he had felt for no other being in a very long time. Was this what humans felt for their children, he wondered? Was this what the countess had felt for him? Had he really not been able to return that feeling with a fraction of the intensity? Did Ulrika feel the same way about him as he had once felt about the countess? He dismissed the thoughts as
being of no account, even as he came to a decision.

  ‘I will go and take a look at them. Perhaps I will teach them the folly of trespassing in my domain.’

  ‘Perhaps I should go, master,’ suggested Roche.

  ‘Tonight is not the night for a mortal to be abroad, old friend,’ said Krieger. Fear passed over the faces of the other coven members. They did not want to be left alone here, in this haunted place, with the newly risen Ulrika and the army of the undead gathering. They all knew what had happened to Osrik. Krieger let his malicious amusement show.

  ‘Do not worry. I will return.’

  The blizzard had stopped, leaving the forest cloaked in a mantle of deep fresh snow. Adolphus Krieger stalked through it, lithe as a leopard, confident as a king. He knew no mortal eyes could pick him out unless he wanted them to. The night was his home. It would cloak and shield him until he chose otherwise.

  What fools were these, he wondered as he saw the distant campfires flickering through the trees, to be abroad in Sylvania in the depths of winter, and to have strayed so far from the beaten track? Surely they must know how close they were to the haunted keep at Drakenhof? Were they fortune hunters keen to prove their bravery and despoil the ancient castle of its mythical treasures? If so, they were in for an unpleasant surprise.

  Perhaps he would be merciful. Perhaps he would kill a few sentries silently and unseen and leave them as a warning that would terrify the others. Or perhaps he would summon the ghouls and the skeletons he had raised and massacre them all, leaving only one to carry word of the killing back to the lands of men. That might be better. It would spread fear and terror in advance of his armies, and those had always been the greatest allies of the Arisen when they went to war.

  He moved forward swiftly, from pool of shadow to pool of shadow. Tempting as that course of action was, perhaps it was not the wisest. He was not yet ready to begin his campaign yet. True, several hundred animated corpses and skeletons had joined him but there were other hidden burial grounds to be visited. More ghouls were drawn to him every night. Soon the first of the Arisen themselves would arrive. Only once that had happened could he be certain of his power. It would be folly to strike too early and forewarn his foes. Perhaps the first method would be best after all. Or maybe he should summon the wolves and have them deal with the intruders.

  The Eye tingled on his throat. He sensed something was wrong in the night. Surrounding the old ruins was a flow of power that should not be there. He opened his magesight to its fullest and studied his surroundings. Nearer to the fire, he could perceive a subtle webwork of force, a spell of some sort, a ward or an alarm, no doubt. It was fine work, near invisible. He suspected that had he not been wearing the Eye he might not even have noticed it. There was a wizard present in that camp. He needed to be careful indeed.

  Moving with exaggerated caution he proceeded through the snow, easing his weight down to minimise the sound of the white stuff crunching underfoot. Within the tumbled down walls was a large camp, with a coach, several sledges and many horses pegged within what was left of the stables. Some of them neighed nervously as if catching his scent. There were a lot of warriors, probably too many for the wolves to deal with unless his other servants supported them. If the wizard was powerful, perhaps even that would not be enough.

  Who were these people, he wondered: some noble and his retinue, perhaps? Only the nobility were rich enough to hire wizards to travel with them. Or perhaps the coach belonged to the wizard himself, and these were his bodyguards. It had been known for sorcerers engaged in all manner of dubious practices to seek refuge in the wilds of Sylvania in order to continue their nefarious researches untroubled by the authorities and by witch-hunters. Perhaps he had stumbled on one of these. Or perhaps the man had come to investigate his own spellcasting. His use of the Great Ritual must have been noticeable for a dozen leagues to one sensitive enough.

  Someone called out. Krieger froze. Had he been spotted? He listened. No. It was merely one nervous man making sure another was there. Perhaps the unease of the animals had transmitted itself to the sentries. He would have to be careful. Under normal circumstances he would have used his powers to cloud their minds, but the wizard down there would be able to sense it.

  Krieger told himself not to be foolish. He was a power now. He possessed the Eye of Khemri. There was nothing those mortals down there could do to harm him. Still, he had not survived as long as he had by throwing caution to the winds. He needed to be careful now, more than ever with his destiny so close to being fulfilled.

  There was something naggingly familiar about the voices. They were speaking with the accents of Kislev! These men had strayed far from home. Perhaps they were merely wandering mercenaries or perhaps the whole party were refugees fleeing the advance of the Chaos army. Or perhaps they were connected in some way to his recent stay in Praag. He knew that he had better find out.

  As he moved closer, he saw that most of them wore the garb of Kislevite horse-soldiers. They were short, stocky men, bandy-legged from so much riding. One of them seemed very tall. He caught a flash of blond hair as the man strode off to relieve himself.

  He sniffed the air, and found a whiff of some familiar scents. Dwarf, he thought. Near one of the fires he caught sight of a squat figure with a towering crest of hair and a massive axe in one hand. It seemed that Gotrek Gurnisson had taken his oath seriously and tracked him here! How had the dwarf managed to track him over hundreds of leagues of winter forest, Krieger wondered. Perhaps the wizard had done it.

  Krieger moved around the camp, staying out of the light. He could see that there were some Sylvanians present. Their horses were larger than the rangy steeds of the Kislevites; chargers intended to carry men in full plate. The sign of Waldenhof covered the raiment. These were all ranged around a pavilion and a large coach on runners.

  This was a strange mix indeed. What were dwarfs, Kislevite archers, a local lordling and a wizard doing so near to his home all at once? He paused to consider this for a second. Obviously the Slayers had come to fulfil their vow. Perhaps they had hired the wizard, or perhaps it was this Max Schreiber that Ulrika talked of. The more he thought about it, the more likely it seemed. The tall blond man he had spotted would be Felix Jaeger. Maybe the Kislevites were mercenaries or had been sent by the Praag authorities to bring him to justice. The locals could have come along as guides. Doubtless they would aid anyone who set themselves up against him. He could not be completely certain, of course, but all of this seemed to be the likeliest explanation.

  The question was – what was he to do against them? Here, on his own, he doubted he could prevail against so many. Particularly not a wizard and warriors so formidably armed as Gotrek Gurnisson and Felix Jaeger. He could kill many but doubtless they would drag him down. He did not want to risk his life against that axe.

  He could summon the wolves and the ghouls and the skeletons and attack their camp. But it would take most of the night to assemble such a force, and perhaps the wizard would sense the summoning. If the fighting was not done by morning, he would be far from shelter and surrounded by enemies when the sun rose, and that was a fate he wished to avoid at all costs.

  If they were coming against him, it would be best to fight them on his home ground in a place that he knew, on a field of his choice. At Drakenhof, if the worst came to the worst he could drain some of his human servants of blood and fight in the light. It would be better though to send the wolves to harass and slow them, to use the ghouls to set ambushes and traps so that they would arrive at his home as late as possible. Better yet would be to lure them into the ruins and pick them off one by one.

  And back at the mansion he had a potent ally. Ulrika would be doubly useful. She was strong and deadly, and more importantly, because of her relationship with Felix Jaeger, the mortals would be unlikely to attack her until they were absolutely certain she was his ally. Perhaps he could even use her to lure them into a trap.

  Yes, he thought, that would be the bes
t plan. He could refine it on his way back. When his pursuers set out tomorrow, they would find several unpleasant surprises in store for them.

  ‘Something was here during the night,’ said Marek the tracker, a frown creasing his leathery brow. ‘You can see here if you look closely. These are boot prints that the snow has not yet had time to fill.’

  ‘They are very close to the camp,’ said Felix. ‘Were the sentries asleep?’

  ‘None of my men slept last night, Felix Jaeger,’ said Ivan Petrovich Straghov wearily. Felix thought he looked dreadfully old. ‘I have ridden with these men from the Marches of Chaos, and I swear to that. They are veterans and they are honourable men.’

  ‘Nothing disturbed my wards,’ said Max. ‘I would have woken if anything did. Nothing and no one came into or left our camp last night.’

  The way Max stressed the possibility of someone leaving the camp, Felix knew they thinking along the same lines. It seemed no one in the camp had set out to warn Krieger.

  ‘Snorri thinks it does not matter if one man came to spy,’ said Snorri.

  ‘It matters a lot if it was Krieger,’ said Felix. ‘He is more than a man.’

  ‘Or less than one,’ said Max.

  ‘The tracks lead away in the direction we are going,’ said the tracker.

  ‘I suggest we prepare ourselves for an ambush then,’ said Felix. ‘If it’s Krieger he may have friends in the area.’

  ‘Perhaps the countess and her men should be sent on their way,’ said Ivan Petrovich Straghov. He was chivalrous in his way, and would not want to see the woman in danger. ‘She might wish to take a different road.’

  ‘I will suggest that to her,’ said Felix striding off in the direction of the coach.

  ‘Don’t take too long about your suggestions, manling. We leave immediately,’ said Gotrek.

  ‘You think it was him then,’ said Felix. As the coach swayed on its runners, he braced himself, not wanting to be thrown any closer to the countess than he already was. He had already put as much distance between the two of them as was possible in the enclosed space.