by Warhammer
‘These dwarfs think that we are agents of Chaos. They wanted to kill us. Gotrek has told them that we come from outside and that we can help them. Some of them don’t believe it and say it is a trick. Their leader says that he cannot risk killing us and that it is a matter for his father, the king himself, to decide.’
To Felix this seemed like a very bald summary of what was obviously an impassioned debate. Voices were being raised. Harsh guttural oaths were being sworn. Both Gotrek and the dwarfish leader had spat on the ground in front of each other’s feet. It was an odd sensation to know that his very life hung in the balance and that he could neither say nor do anything to influence the decision. He was reminded of being on the airship during the great warpstorm. All he could do now was remind himself that they had survived that, and might survive this.
Varek continued to mutter: ‘It is only the fact that we speak the Old Tongue which keeps them from killing us out of hand. They do not want to believe that any follower of Chaos could have learned it. Certainly no dwarf would teach them.’
‘That’s reassuring to know,’ said Felix.
The argument ended. The dwarf leader turned and spoke to Felix in strongly-accented Reikspiel.
‘I do not know if this tale of flying ships and other wonders is true. I only know that this is too grave a matter for me to decide. Your fate is in the hands of the king, and he will pass judgement on you.’
‘I still say it’s a trick, Hargrim,’ said one of the other dwarfs, an old, miserable-looking fellow with deep set eyes and a beard of pure grey. ‘We know that the world outside is ruled by Chaos. There are no other dwarfholds left. We should kill these interlopers, not lead them deeper into our realm.’
‘You have had your say, Torvald, and my decision stands until the king himself overturns it. If the world has not been overrun by the forces of Chaos, this is indeed momentous news. It may be that we are not the last dwarfs.’
‘Aye, Hargrim, and it may be that we are fools and dupes of the Dark Powers. But as you say, you are our captain and on your head be it. There will be time enough to kill these outsiders soon, if they prove false.’
‘The king will know,’ Hargrim said. ‘Come! Let us go. We have wasted enough time and I would not want to be caught in these halls if the Terror comes. Bind them and take their weapons.’
A group of dwarfs broke away from the main body and moved towards them. As they did so, Gotrek stepped forward menacingly.
‘You will take this axe from my cold, dead hands,’ he said softly and with such menace in his voice that the dwarfs froze on the spot.
‘That can be arranged, stranger,’ Hargrim said just as quietly. Gotrek raised his axe and the runes on the blade flashed in the dim light. The closest dwarfs gasped.
‘He bears the weapon of power!’ Torvald gasped, and his voice held horror and wonder. ‘It is the Prophecy. Those are the Great Runes. The Terror has returned and the axe of our ancestors has come back to us. The Last Days are upon us.’
A look of shock once more passed over Hargrim’s face and he advanced towards Gotrek, his eyes fixed on the blade of the axe. As he read them, a great look of wonder appeared in his eyes.
‘Where did you get this blade?’ the dwarfish captain asked, then added something in dwarfish.
‘I found it in a cave in the Chaos Wastes many years ago,’ Gotrek replied slowly in Reikspiel. He appeared to be considering whether he should say more, then thought better of it.
‘If you are truly a dwarf then you are favoured by the Ancestor Gods,’ Hargrim said. ‘For that is a mighty weapon.’
Gotrek grinned nastily and scratched one of the Trollslayer tattoos on his shaven head meaningfully. ‘If the gods favour me, they have shown no great sign of it,’ he said dryly.
‘Be that as it may, such a weapon does not find its way into anyone’s hands by chance. You may keep your weapons for now, until the king declares differently.’
Hargrim looked at Gotrek for a long time, and what might have been a thin smile creased his lips. ‘It may be as Torvald says, Gotrek Gurnisson. It may be your coming was foretold. The king and his priests will know.’
He turned to his troops. ‘Come. We have far to go before we can rest, and we do not want to be caught abroad while the Terror stalks the Underhalls.’
He glanced back at them over his shoulder. ‘Come with us,’ he said. The four comrades moved into place behind him and marched off into the gloom.
‘We will rest here,’ Hargrim said, holding up his hand to indicate that they should halt. At first Felix had no idea why the dwarf captain had chosen this spot. It seemed to be just another ruined hallway, like so many others they had passed through. Eventually, though, he noticed that there was a rune carved low in the corner of the wall, and a jet of water sprayed from the wall into a large cistern. This, at least, would be a place where they could drink.
Hargrim barked an order to one of his warriors and the dwarf moved forward. He produced a stone from his leather satchel and dipped it in the water. For a few moments, he stared into the cup and then nodded his head.
‘The water is clear, captain,’ he said.
Hargrim noticed Felix’s curious glance. ‘Sometimes the outsiders poison the wells. Sometimes it contains Chaos stuff that causes madness and mutation. Mikal’s runestone contains old enchantments that warn of such things.’
‘A useful thing to have,’ Felix said.
‘No. An essential thing to have. Without it, sooner or later, we would all die.’
‘What is this Prophecy of which you spoke?’ Felix asked, determined to at least try and get an answer.
‘It does not concern you,’ Hargrim said bluntly. ‘It is for the king to test its truth. Best get some rest while you still may.’
Wearily, the dwarfs threw themselves down to rest, except for four sentries who took up positions at each entrance to the room. Felix noted with approval the four exits from this chamber, so hopefully if danger threatened from any direction they would always have a line of retreat. He walked over and sat down beside Gotrek, Snorri and Varek.
All three of his companions seemed strangely elated. Felix thought he understood why – they had found their lost kinsfolk. There were still dwarfs alive in the Underhalls of Karag Dum. In defiance of all probability, a few still lived, even after two hundred years of isolation in the Chaos Wastes.
He lay on his back and stared at the ceiling, thinking of the journey they had made to get to this isolated place. It had not been easy. They had made their way further and further into the labyrinth of tunnels beneath Karag Dum.
During the trip Felix had counted the number of dwarfs around him; there were nearly fifty. All of them wore leather armour and were lightly armed and armoured, very unlike the traditional dwarfish warriors he knew of. It seemed they travelled light and quickly through the halls of what once had been their city, and relied more on stealth and surprise for victory than on the strength of their arms. Tunnel fighters, Varek had called them.
As they travelled further, Felix came to understand why they were so lightly armoured. They passed through areas where the presence of Chaos was evident and signs of open war between the powers were visible all around. It looked like an insane and ferocious struggle was being fought here in the ruins of the dwarf city. He had asked Hargrim about this, but the dwarf had not replied. There were mysteries here, that was clear. He just needed to find someone who could explain them to him.
Well, there was little sense in worrying about it now. He lay back and stared at the ceiling, wondering what Ulrika was doing now. In moments, he was asleep. The last thing he heard was the scratching of a pen, as Varek recorded the day’s events in his book.
An eerie howling woke Felix from his sleep. It echoed down the great hallways and had penetrated his dreams, jerking him awake. There was something unnatural about the noise, something that evoked primal terrors. The mere sound of it sent shivers of fear running down his spine, and made his legs feel weak
.
All around him the dwarfs had come awake. He could hear the clamour as they reached for their weapons. He glanced around and saw his fear was echoed on every face, save Gotrek and Snorri’s.
‘What is it?’ he asked. ‘The Terror?’
‘No,’ Hargrim said. ‘It is the hounds.’
‘What are they?’ Varek asked.
‘You will soon see,’ Hargrim said. He turned and spoke to his followers. ‘I want ten volunteers to hold the hounds off, while the rest of us try to win clear.’
It was obvious from the expressions on their faces that the dwarfs thought he was asking for volunteers for a suicide mission. Still, more than twenty of them stepped forward.
‘I will stay,’ Gotrek said.
‘Snorri too,’ said Snorri.
‘You cannot. I must get you away. King Thangrim must hear your story.’
‘It might be too late for that,’ Felix said glancing over his shoulder at the northernmost entrance. An enormous beast had leapt through the entrance. Before anyone could react, it ripped off the nearest sentry’s arm with a single snap of its jaws and pulled another to the ground and disembowelled him with its claws. The beast moved so swiftly, with almost supernatural grace, that Felix was barely able to follow its actions.
Through the doorway several more huge beasts bounded. They resembled monstrous dogs with strange reptilian ruffles around their heads and great iron collars around their necks. Their flesh glistened, the colour of blood. Each was bigger than a man. One of them opened its mouth and bayed. As it did so, its mouth distended widely like that of a snake. It looked like it could take off a man’s head with a single bite. Something about the daemonic creature made Felix want to turn and flee, screaming for help. He forced himself to stand his ground. He knew that if he ran the beast would simply overtake him and rend his flesh as it had the sentries’.
‘Flesh hounds of Khorne,’ he heard Varek gasp. ‘I thought they were only legends.’
‘Fire at will,’ Hargrim ordered. A hail of crossbow bolts hurtled towards the ravenous beasts. They opened their mouths and bayed mockingly. Most of the bolts simply ricocheted off their flesh and fell to the floor. As far as Felix could see only one had bit home. Varek fired and his bullets had no more effect than the crossbows. The hounds bounded forward, loping with a deceptively long easy stride which covered the ground faster than a horse could run.
‘Stand back,’ Gotrek said and paced out to meet them. None of the dwarfs disobeyed. Felix could tell that they were just as affected by the creatures’ supernatural aura as he was. Only Gotrek showed no sign of dismay. Felix noticed that the runes along his axe blade were glowing brighter than he had ever seen them do before. Even so, Felix wondered whether the Slayer would survive. The creatures were so fast and strong. They were upon him almost before he had a chance to realise it. Their huge jaws widened. Their metallic teeth glistened. Their triumphant baying reached a crescendo loud enough to wake the dead.
Gotrek’s axe flashed forward like a thunderbolt. The first hound’s armoured skin smoked and burned where the blade touched. The beast seemed almost to explode as the axe swept though it, cutting it in two, sending innards erupting all over the floor. The Slayer’s next stroke impacted on a second hound’s collar. Sparks flew as metal met metal. There was a hideous grating screech. The runes on Gotrek’s axe glowed as bright as red-hot coals and the collar gave way. The flesh hound’s head and neck parted company. The corpse flopped to the ground, molten ichor spilling out onto the floor. Another stroke cleaved a third flesh hound down the middle lengthwise, revealing skeleton and spine and ruptured organs.
Surprised by the fury of the Slayer’s attack, the remaining pack pulled back, snarling like wolves at bay. Then, with an eerie intelligence, they returned to the fray. Two flesh hounds attacked the Slayer simultaneously, one from each side. Gotrek dashed one’s brains out with the axe and caught the other by the throat even as it leapt. Almost without effort the dwarf held the monstrous creature at arm’s length, then he lifted it so high that its hind limbs scrabbled for purchase on empty air. He dropped it. Before it had touched the ground he has smashed through its ribs with the axe.
The last beast had circled right behind the Slayer and was about to leap on his back. ‘Look out!’ yelled Felix but Snorri had already tossed his axe. It bounced from the creature’s shoulder but the force of the blow distracted the flesh hound. It gathered its legs beneath it for the spring but even as it took to the air, Gotrek half turned and sent his axe slashing through a bloody arc which crunched through the creature’s ribcage and ended in its stomach. The force of the blow flattened the flesh hound into the ground. Gotrek stomped on its neck. There was a hideous sound of grinding vertebrae and then the axe fell once more, ending the monster’s unnatural life.
The corpses of the Chaos creatures started to bubble where they lay. For a moment flesh and bone melted and ran, evaporating like boiling water. Even as Felix watched, they turned into wisps of foul looking vapour which rose towards the ceiling, then disappeared. It was like they had never been there.
For a moment there was silence, and then the dwarfs burst into cheering and applause. After a few moments they seemed to remember who they were applauding and fell silent.
‘If ever I doubted that was the Axe of Valek, I do so no longer. That was a fight worthy of King Thangrim himself,’ Hargrim said.
‘It was easy,’ Gotrek said and spat upon the floor.
‘We’d best be moving,’ Hargrim said. ‘If the hounds were here, their foul master may be near, and however mighty you are, Gotrek Gurnisson, against that you cannot prevail.’
‘Bring it on and we’ll see.’
‘No! Now more than ever I must bring you before the king. He must hear your tale.’
After the fight with the flesh hounds, Felix noticed a change in the dwarfs’ attitude. They seemed to be more accepting of the four comrades, and less suspicious. Even old Torvald contented himself with only an occasional suspicious glance in their direction. They marched on through the endless silent corridors and even Felix could tell that they were descending all the time now. He wondered how long this could continue. After several more hours it seemed to him that they would keep going down until they reached the world’s fiery heart but it was not to be.
Instead they stopped in the middle of a long and seemingly featureless corridor. While his troops shielded him from view Hargrim manipulated a hidden switch which opened a small secret doorway. An opening appeared in the wall where none had been before. The dwarf gestured for the four comrades to enter, his face stern.
‘Tread very carefully now. You are on sacred ground and we will kill you at the first sign of treachery.’
EIGHTEEN
FIREBEARD
Warily, Felix stepped through the entrance. This corridor seemed no different from the rest, save that the glowstones all functioned and the air smelled slightly cleaner. The rest of the war-band hastily pushed in behind and the door swung shut behind them. Felix noticed that the dwarfs of Karag Dum relaxed visibly; conversely, Gotrek, Snorri and Varek appeared more excited. He could not tell why. Perhaps because they felt they were getting closer to their goal. It was not a feeling he shared. The long trek through the Underhalls had made him tense and nervous and he just wanted to find a place to lie down and rest.
This new corridor led into a winding maze of passageways. Every now and again Hargrim stopped and pressed a panel in the wall. He gave no explanation as to why, he simply did it and moved on.
Felix looked at Varek to see if the young dwarf could tell him what was happening.
‘Deadfalls. Pit traps. Defensive works of some sort, most likely,’ the dwarf said quietly, but was silenced by a nasty look from their guardians.
They passed maybe a dozen sentries at their posts, all of whom looked amazed at the sight of strangers from the outside world. Eventually they entered a monstrously long hall which was plainly inhabited by the dwarfs. This was a huge plac
e with many exits. A well had been sunk deep into the floor in the far end of the chamber. The ceiling was low, with none of the vaulting of the magnificent halls they had passed through en route. A forest of enormous squat pillars propped up the roof. On each pillar was inscribed a strange symbol which hurt Felix’s eye when he tried to read it.
‘Runes of Concealment,’ Varek breathed from beside him. ‘No wonder this place has survived so long.’
‘What’s that?’ Felix said.
‘These runes protect the halls from magical seekings, just as the concealed entrances protect it from normal sight. This place would be all but impossible for one who was not a dwarf to find unaided.’
Felix could see hooded and cowled dwarf women working at their chores. A few priests strode backwards and forwards, speaking words of comfort and reassurance, patting heads, invoking blessings. There were many warriors, a good number of whom were crippled. Some had hooks. Some stumped around on the wooden legs. Some had bandages over their eyes indicating that they were blind. Felix had never seen so many maimed people together in one place before, not even on the beggar-filled streets of Altdorf. It certainly looked like these people had come out on the losing end of a war. Nowhere did he see any children in evidence.
‘So few,’ Varek muttered. ‘This was once a great city.’
‘Welcome to the Hall of the Well. Wait here,’ Hargrim said. ‘I will bring news of your coming to the king.’
The captain strode off through a huge archway and vanished somewhere into the recesses of the city. Many of those who had been working stopped and stared frankly at them. A few of the crippled beggars came over. One reached out and touched Felix disbelievingly.
‘You are the first human ever to set foot in this citadel,’ he croaked.
‘I am honoured.’
‘Ha! You may soon be dead,’ the crippled warrior said and turned away. The rest of the crowd moved in. One of the cowled women asked a question in dwarfish. Varek responded. The crowd emitted a collective gasp. One of the women burst into tears.