The wizard raised both his hands, pointing up at the rocky ledge, and lightning flew from his fingertips. An instant later, the lethal barrel exploded, splashing both the rats with the incandescent liquid. They were afire as they dropped into the abyss, already charred bones by the time they smashed to the ground.
Litzenreich staggered back, and Konrad thought he had been wounded, but he leaned against the cavern wall as if resting from some great exertion.
Konrad’s face had been burned and blistered by the terrible heat of the skaven flame machine, and the blade of his sword had become red hot. The heat was transferred up to the hilt, through his gauntlet, and he had been forced to drop the weapon. He searched for another, loosened one from the grip of a corpse.
The corpse was that of the captain. Death and dishonour were all that was left to him now. He had been eviscerated, and his spilled guts mingled with those of the disembowelled skaven with which he was entwined. They lay together like loathsome lovers, mating in some obscene fashion.
“Thanks,” Konrad said.
The sword was identical to the other, and with it Konrad continued to slay more of the undead. Maggots and all kinds of carrion-eating insects spilled from his new blade. The cemetery stench of ancient leprous flesh mixed with the odour of roasted bodies, a daemon’s emetic perfume.
Konrad saw that Litzenreich had recovered and was making his way through the necromantic legion. The animated corpses which were still upright seemed to move aside for him. Ustnar was with him, his blade hacking at the few surviving skaven slaves. The wizard gazed up at the bizarre apparatus where the warpstone was transformed, which seemed as if it could be a much larger version of some of his own convoluted equipment.
No more human troops emerged from the tunnel. Could these who surrounded him be the only ones who had survived? Were reinforcements sheltering in the passage? Where were the skaven? Even the archers who had such easy targets had only fired one volley. Konrad glanced all around. There were no ratmen in sight. They had withdrawn between the arrows being unleashed and the eruption of the volcanic torrent of fiery destruction, and they had not returned.
The skaven could surely not have retreated; they must have been preparing another devious tactic. Konrad felt very vulnerable, and slaying the undead was pointless. He wanted to go up, but the walls were far too sheer. There had to be steps leading from some of the passages at the foot of the cavern. He began to investigate.
The third archway led to a spiralling stairway carved from the rock. Cautiously, he climbed. There was still no sign of any skaven. But even if they could not see him, they could smell him…
He reached the next level, paused and listened, then climbed again and kept doing so. At the fourth level he seemed to be at the same height as the tunnel from which he had originally entered the skaven hub. If he ventured all around the ledge within the chamber, he ought to find that tunnel, and also the passage down which he had been dragged.
He did — but before he discovered the latter, Silver Eye was waiting for him. They stared at each other, and this was the first time Konrad had seen the huge skaven in so much light. It was not a silver coin in his eye, he observed, but something that appeared to move like quicksilver: a piece of warpstone. Silver Eye’s tongue emerged from beneath his metal fangs, and he licked his scarred jowls.
Konrad shuddered, remembering the rasping touch of the skaven tongue on his cheek. He thrust his sword forward, the rat-man brought up his shield, metal clashed on metal — and Konrad gazed in utter astonishment at the emblem on the shield.
The shield was long, triangular, black, with a golden crest. And the crest showed a mailed fist between two crossed arrows. It was the same heraldic device that had been on the bow and arrows that Elyssa had given him!
He was so totally amazed that he was almost gutted by Silver Eye’s sudden sword strike. The point of the jagged blade hacked through his chainmail and leather tunic, and he felt blood flow as his skin was sliced. He swung his own sword, raised his guard, and they fought. He was the better fighter: faster, more skilled. The skaven’s only advantage was its size, but Konrad could turn that to his own benefit. He knew that he could win the duel and kill Silver Eye. But, as with Gaxar, he did not want to kill him -not yet.
He wanted to question him, to ask where he had got the shield. It was battered and rusty, made of metal instead of layers of tough hide, and it had seen much combat; but had that been while defending the giant rat? Skaven were scavengers, their armour fabricated from various pieces of leather and metal that they had looted from battlefields and corpses. The same must be true of the shield. Silver Eye could only have stolen it somewhere, from someone. But where, from who?
Konrad fought defensively, and the creature pressed its advantage, pushing him back. There was no way that Konrad could talk to him. They were of different races, and Silver Eye could speak only a few human words. Konrad needed the grey rat as translator. His only hope was to capture both skaven, force them to answer him. But even if such impossible circumstances could be satisfied, he knew they would lie.
It was hopeless. He might as well kill Silver Eye now. If nothing else, he could take the shield as his prize.
A skaven voice shouted. It came from behind Silver Eye, who pushed Konrad even harder, his sword thrusting, the black and gold shield pressed against the human’s shield, forcing him back towards the edge of the cavern. From the corner of his eye, Konrad glimpsed a figure reaching the top of the stone steps. It was Litzenreich.
Then the other skaven shouted again, and Silver Eye barked a reply. Beyond him was a passage, wider than most but equally as dark. There was a movement in the gloom. The second skaven was coming nearer, emerging from the shadows. It was Gaxar.
The grey seer was not alone. There was a human with him, a hunched figure, naked and pale. Gaxar held a chain around the human’s neck, as a man would leash a hound.
The hostage would not remain so for long, Konrad vowed. The two skaven would die, their captive be liberated.
Gaxar spoke again, and Silver Eye drew back a pace. Konrad lunged towards him, but the blow was deflected by the strange shield.
Litzenreich arrived, standing a few feet from Konrad, and he gazed at Gaxar. The skaven sorcerer stared back at the human magician.
Konrad was distracted for a moment by this, and Silver Eye struck. Konrad stepped back to avoid the sword stroke, but then the skaven pulled his blade away and instead swung his shield.
Caught unawares, Konrad was hit on the shoulder and sent flying. He teetered backwards, flinging out his arms for balance, unsure how far he was from the lip of the chasm.
A strong hand caught him in the small of his back, pushing him upright. Ustnar stood behind him.
“Shall we go, boss?” he said to Litzenreich.
In a moment, Gaxar and his prisoner had vanished into the dark, and now Silver Eye was disappearing after them. Konrad started to follow.
“No,” said Litzenreich.
Konrad ignored him, taking several steps towards the blackness.
“I know where they are going,” the wizard added.
Konrad slowed, reluctant to allow Gaxar to escape. But an impenetrable maze of tunnels must lie ahead, and he had no idea how many skaven lurked within.
He had no lantern, he was wounded. If he went on, it would only cost him his life. The price was too high to pay for vengeance — or even justice.
“Where?” he asked.
“Altdorf,” Litzenreich told him, then he asked Ustnar: “Is there anyone else?”
“None of us,” said the dwarf.
Konrad walked back, glancing down to the bottom of the huge pit. It was like a mass grave, full of the dead and the again dead, human and skaven and Gaxar’s death spawn. There could have been no more than a dozen of the Middenheim troops left alive below.
“Why Altdorf?” he asked.
“That’s where the Emperor lives,” said Litzenreich.
Konrad waited.
“That was Gaxar,” Konrad told him.
“No, not the skaven. The man with them. That was the Emperor.”
Konrad gazed up at what could be seen of the sky. It was grey and very overcast, with heavy dark clouds. Rain threatened and a cold wind blew icy blasts through the tears in his clothing, but to Konrad it was a beautiful day.
This was the first time he had been outside in countless weeks, the first time his horizon had not been the nearest granite wall.
And it was the first time he had been free for far longer. He was free of the labyrinth of tunnels within and below Fauschlag, free of the bronze armour, free of Kastring’s Khorne worshipping band of bestial marauders.
He stretched out his arms and did not touch stone; he leapt as high as he could; he roared out his appreciation, long and loud, a mixture of unfettered joy and sheer boundless exuberance.
He gazed back at Middenheim, which seemed to grow out of the pinnacle of rock, and he realized that he had never seen the city. He had glimpsed the outside walls and a few streets through the bronze visor, but then he had found himself covered up and carried underground. Until a minute ago, he had been underground ever since.
He had emerged from a cave on the side of a rocky crag some three miles from the City of the White Wolf. Seeing the distant point of beckoning daylight growing larger, he had hurried ahead, unwilling to stay a prisoner of the underworld a second longer than necessary.
Hearing a sound behind him, he turned and watched as Litzenreich and Ustnar stepped out into the open and clambered the few yards down to ground level. The dwarf had led them up through a series of tunnels, away from the subterranean battleground. It was hard to judge who had been the victor. Most of the Middenheim troops had been massacred, but they seemed to have accomplished their mission: the skaven had been driven out from their dark domain, for a time at least.
Only one skaven was of any interest to Konrad: Silver Eye, because he carried the shield with the mysterious heraldic device that had fascinated Konrad for so very long. It was over a decade since Elyssa had given him the black bow, the ten matching arrows, the quiver made from rippled hide. The gift was a reward for saving her from a beastman. It was the first such creature he had slain.
In the years since, he had destroyed countless mutants of every size and description — all, he now knew, servants of Chaos.
The shield with the golden emblem was the only link Konrad had with his past, of life in his native village. Even if he could not find out anything about the shield, he wanted it. Such an artefact should not be possessed by a skaven.
There had been little chance for conversation during their long and arduous ascent from the skaven city, and now Konrad said: “That was not the Emperor.”
“Not the Emperor himself,” replied Litzenreich, leaning back against the side of the peak, breathing heavily, “but certainly his double. Gaxar can resurrect corpses, and he can also give them a different appearance.”
Konrad knew that. He had been forced to duel with his twin, a creation of Gaxar’s. But the Emperor? He found that hard to believe, although Gaxar must have considered his prisoner very important; he had taken none of his other resurrections with him, so perhaps Litzenreich was telling the truth.
“I have seen the Emperor when I was in Altdorf,” added the magician.
“You said they must be heading for Altdorf, but why? It’s the capital of the Empire; it’s where the real Emperor lives. But…?”
“I can think of only one reason why the skaven have constructed a replica of the Emperor: in order to replace him with a duplicate — a creation of Chaos. They have tried something like it before.”
It took a while for Konrad to comprehend the enormity of Litzenreich’s claim. Finally, he nodded. It sounded extremely cunning and devious, the very tactics that the skaven would adopt.
“How far to Altdorf?” he asked.
“About three hundred miles, as the skaven crawls,” said Ustnar, speaking for the first time.
Could there really be an underground route all the way to another rodent city beneath Altdorf?
Was that the direction which Gaxar was taking at this very minute?
“I suggest we travel together,” said Litzenreich. “We can all be of service to one another.”
Konrad did not like the idea of accompanying the magician. Now that he was free, he wanted to be totally free. He had previously resolved to have no more to do with Litzenreich. Nothing had happened to alter his decision.
“I don’t plan to go to Altdorf.”
“You do. That is why you asked how far it was.”
He wondered what the sorcerer considered his motive in making Altdorf his destination. Revenge?
Konrad shrugged. “I’ve never been there.” He would not tell Litzenreich of the arrows and fist emblem. “Why do you want to go there?”
“I have to begin my researches somewhere new. I have lived in Altdorf previously, and it would be suitable for my purposes. As I know there are skaven below the city, I will have a fresh source of warpstone. And, as I do not believe it would be very beneficial if the Emperor were a skaven puppet, perhaps I can also foil Gaxar’s plot.”
That might be the only way in which Konrad could find the grey seer again, he realized. And wherever Gaxar was, Silver Eye would be close — and so would the enigmatic shield.
“Which way?” asked Konrad.
“South-west,” said Litzenreich, and he pointed.
“Three hundred miles? How do we get there? We have no money, no horses.”
“You forget my chosen profession, Konrad,” said Litzenreich. “A dwarf, a warrior, a wizard. We make a fine team. Agreed?”
“Yes, boss,” agreed the dwarf.
The warrior nodded, but only repeated half the dwarf’s reply.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The road between Middenheim and Altdorf was one of the major highways of the Empire, and they travelled upon it by stagecoach. Konrad had never ridden in such a vehicle, and at first he felt sick because the coach was so well-sprung; but by the end of the initial day’s journey, he had become used to the swaying motion.
Every evening, he and Litzenreich and Ustnar dined in the coaching inn where the vehicle had halted for the hours of darkness. They would feast on the best food available, then retire to their soft beds. After the first sleepless night, Konrad preferred to sleep on the floor. Each morning, they would break their fast before climbing into the coach once more for the next stage of their journey to the capital.
The wizard proved to be a useful travelling companion, arranging all the details of their journey. The normal procedure, it seemed, was for passengers to pay the innkeeper for each night’s hospitality; meals and board were not included in the coach fare. Litzenreich neither paid for the meals, the rooms, nor their passage, but he used his magical talents to convince everyone that he had done so.
Fresh clothing was also acquired for each of them in a similar manner, and Konrad was able to discard his stained battle outfit. He had worn the same garments ever since first venturing into the tunnels which led to the skaven nest. It was a relief to bathe, to change into different clothes; and his wounds and burns gradually healed, the injuries to his right arm much more swiftly.
He could well understand why the wizard had no need for money, not when he could obtain everything he required at no expense. Everything except warpstone…
During the long days that passed, Konrad found himself wondering again about the purpose of his own visit to Altdorf. Having had very little to do except consider his motives for undertaking the journey, his reasons for heading to the city had begun to seem very tenuous. Even if Gaxar and Silver Eye really were making for the capital of the Empire, how could he ever find them and the mysterious shield again? And if he succeeded, then captured and questioned the two skaven, they would never reveal the true history of the s
hield.
Did he really care about the shield? It was merely an old piece of metal. The only thing that meant anything to him was the gold emblem and what it represented: his past, his life before he left the village. And there was only one part of his early existence which he wished to remember: Elyssa. But he did not need a rusty and dented shield to remind him of the girl, she was always in his memory.
Where had the weapons she gave him come from? Why did Wilhelm Kastring have them? Or some of them. The bow, the quiver and the arrows had been in his keeping. Someone else must have had the shield. And, Konrad realized, there must also have been other weapons and accoutrements bearing the same pattern. There would be a sword with its scabbard, probably a dagger and sheath, and a belt made from the same black rippled hide as the quiver. Could there also be a helmet and breastplate, perhaps even a full suit of armour?
The arrows Elyssa had given Konrad were not the shafts that an ordinary bowman would have carried to war. They were perfect arrows, all identical, each the product of a craftsman. They had belonged to someone of wealth and significance. The very fact that two crossed arrows were part of the heraldic device proved the importance of archery to their owner, while the mailed gauntlet that composed the rest of the emblem would certainly not be worn by a bowman. One possible explanation was that the crest might be the insignia of some prince or warlord, and worn by all those under his command.
Yet Konrad knew that the shield and his bow and arrows belonged together, once had the same owner. The feeling was not so absolute as seeing, and there was probably no way that it could ever be proved, yet when he had first seen the shield he sensed that it was part of a greater whole. He had tried to hold on to that conviction, although over the days he had lost his initial certainty.
[Konrad 02] - Shadowbreed Page 19