Even his own training sessions had a regular routine, although during those hours Konrad tried to introduce the unexpected. It was the only time when he was on duty and out of dress uniform, as were the trainees. Combat practice was dirty and sweaty, and uniforms could never be allowed to become soiled either on the outside or the inside.
It was not only others that Konrad trained. He had encountered most kinds of weapons during his career on the frontier, but there was always something else to be found, and the armoury provided a different armament with which to practise.
On a few occasions, Konrad went into the palace to serve as a member of the honour guard when the Imperial banners were furled and unfurled at dusk and dawn. From the ramparts, two hundred feet above the ground, the entire city, the roads, the docks, the rivers, the canal to Weissbruck, the surrounding forests, nearby villages, distant mountains, were all clearly visible. Even higher up, from the observation turret in the spire, the view would be even more extensive — which was why there were always guards on duty up there.
Everything within the building was on as large a scale as the exterior. Halls were vast, doors enormous, stairways and corridors wider than roads, ceilings as high as most other buildings. It was as if the palace had been built for giants.
The statues of all the previous Emperors were three times life size, their titanic figures lining the first hallway from the steps beyond the main entrance. Further within, different chambers were dedicated to each successive ruler. The history of their reign was chronicled by separate paintings commemorating each significant event, making up a frieze which encircled the entire room. Above this would be richly embroidered tapestries depicting the Emperor in triumph, upon his coronation, showing him as a great warrior, hunting the most ferocious of creatures, achieving famous victories. From what Konrad had read in Litzenreich’s volumes, the majority these magnificent works owed more to their artists’ exaggerated imaginations than to the annals of history.
Every hall contained effigies of each Emperor defeating hordes of hideous beastmen in single combat, fighting duels with deadly rivals, and held trophies of every kind from all across the Empire, from the known world — and the unknown: golden ornaments and jewelled treasures, bizarre animals, strange weapons, relics of forgotten wars and campaigns. Many of these objects had disintegrated over the centuries and were no longer recognizable. Some were little more than piles of dust, although still venerated by their very antiquity.
In the centre of each room, resting on a simple stone plinth and illuminated by the natural light shining through the circular stained glass windows in each ceiling, was all that remained of each Emperor. There were coffins of base metal and of gold, of granite and of marble. There were even glass sarcophagi in which gilded skeletons were visible. Many pedestals were empty, because those Emperors had reigned when the capital had not been in Altdorf, and they were buried elsewhere. The very last plinth was also almost empty, because no one knew Sigmar’s final resting place. According to legend, at the end of his days the founder of the Empire had ridden alone into the dwarf realms, to return Ghal-maraz to its original owners. No human ever saw him again.
The only known relic of Sigmar’s reign lay upon a black velvet cushion in this position of honour: the ivory handle of the dagger he had carried at the Battle of Black Fire Pass. The blade of the knife had rusted away over the millennia.
By each pillar, every hour of the day and night, stood a member of the Imperial guard. They were not merely the Emperor’s bodyguard, they were literally the guards of every Emperor’s body. Konrad seldom saw anyone within the palace except for these guards. The building was so large it could have hidden a whole army. Occasionally, he would glimpse a liveried servant going about his duties.
One reason why it may have been so quiet and empty within the Imperial palace was that the Emperor was absent. It took a week for Konrad to discover this. The Emperor, his retinue and most of his guards were on a state visit to Talabheim. He had sailed in the Imperial yacht, voyaging some three hundred miles east up the River Talabec.
Konrad wondered if Gaxar had somehow known this, and, instead of making Altdorf his destination, had taken the underground skaven route to the city state.
Twelve days had passed since Konrad had arrived in the capital, and he had done much in the course of that time. But twelve days was a very brief span in the legal calendar, and he knew that Litzenreich and Ustnar were still languishing in a cell beneath the Altdorf barracks.
They had been arrested under Imperial law, but they were being held by the city militia. The Altdorf army and the Emperor’s guard were two distinct forces, very jealous of their responsibilities.
The city’s standing army was recruited mainly from the capital itself, although inhabitants of the nearby villages in Reikland were also eligible to enlist; but the Imperial guard was comprised of troops from every province and city state in the Empire, including Altdorf itself.
Technically, because Litzenreich and Ustnar were accused of breaking Imperial law, they had been arrested by the Imperial forces. This was why Taungar and a few of his men had been amongst the troops waiting for the stagecoach to arrive. The fugitives, however, had been taken into custody by the city militia.
Having discovered the whereabouts of the captives it was time for Konrad to get them out of there. He owed them that much. Had it been only Litzenreich, he may have left him to his fate; he had already done more than enough for the wizard. Ustnar and the other three dwarfs, however, had saved him from the skaven cave. The others were dead, but Konrad could now repay his debt to the surviving dwarf.
It was dusk when he went off duty, and he walked straight out of the main gateway of the fort. The sentries watched him go, assuming he had permission to leave. He headed north, across the wide bridge over which he had arrived, each parapet of which was lined with painted statues of warriors and gods and mythical creatures, and made for the army quarters. The days were growing shorter as winter began to bite, and he was glad of the warmth afforded by his long cloak.
He entered a dark and narrow alley, where he removed his brass helmet. When he emerged a few seconds later, a purple plume hung from the helmet. Konrad had become an officer in the Imperial guard.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The first sentries looked on idly as Konrad strode confidently past them into the courtyard. He made his way to the guardhouse, which he knew was directly ahead.
“I want to see the officer of the watch,” he told the soldier who stood by the entrance.
“Officer!” yelled the guard. “Stranger at the gate!”
Konrad waited, and a few seconds later an officer stepped out into the evening, buckling on his sword belt. He looked at Konrad and pulled himself up to his full height, clicking his heels together and saluting crisply. Konrad returned the salute, although more casually.
The Imperial guard considered themselves superior to the Altdorf army; but although he was of apparently equal rank, Konrad had no authority here.
“What can I do for you?” asked the officer. “The Imperial guard run out of polish?”
“I have a warrant here,” said Konrad, pulling a parchment from his tunic, “requesting that I am granted admission to see one of your prisoners, a dwarf you are holding in custody under Imperial edict.”
He unrolled the parchment, which was stamped with an impressive official seal. He hoped that the officer could not read, because it was the quartermaster’s inventory for the Imperial garrison’s armament store.
“You do hold such a prisoner?” he asked.
The officer appeared to study the document and he nodded. “Yes. But what’s this about?”
“It’s on another matter, not the reason he is being held. The dwarf is believed to have stolen a sword from one of the Middenheim regiments.”
“I heard something about a sword.”
He gazed at Konrad’s face, but Konrad knew how different he must look without the beard and in Imperial uniform. Only Imperia
l officers were permitted beards, but that did not mean they were compulsory.
Word of the stolen sword must have spread from the guards to the army. The two forces were rivals, but a few individual soldiers were friends.
“We have to make sure that the blade is returned.”
“Of course,” agreed the officer.
“I need to question the prisoner about how the weapon came into his possession.”
“We can do that.”
“Fine. I’ll leave you to make a full transcription of the interrogation, with copies for myself and for the Middenheim authorities. You’ll also have to handle every other detail, all the documentation, arrange to have the sword transported to Middenheim, a full acknowledgement of receipt. Is that all right by you?”
“Er…”
“You know what these things are like. The more simple something seems, the more complex it really is.”
The officer glanced up at the sky, as if seeking inspiration in the heavens. “How long will it take?” he asked.
Konrad punched his right fist into his left gauntlet. “Not long,” he said.
The officer grinned. “I’ll need to be with you. He’s my responsibility.”
“Of course.”
“And I don’t want any visible marks left on him.”
He led Konrad into the brick building, picked up a huge bunch of keys and called for another guard to accompany them.
The guard carried a lantern in one hand, the keys in the other, and he led the way through a series of narrow passages. The brick walls became stone as they began to descend, passing through several heavy doors all of which were locked behind them. There was a guard at each door.
The sequence of doors reminded Konrad of Litzenreich’s domain. Once again he was underground, deep below the surface. This time the tunnels were wide and high; this time there were steps cut into the rock, worn away by the footsteps of countless generations of warders; and this time his destination was not miles away.
He would not be able to talk himself back through the guards and the doors, but he did not intend to return this way.
The warder opened each door in turn, and the officer followed Konrad. They had passed many other doors, doors recessed into the tunnels, doors with barred windows. It seemed that the most important prisoners were kept on the lowest level, as Konrad had hoped.
Another door was unlocked and pulled open — and the guard on the other side fell through the doorway. Konrad drew his sword, hearing the officer do the same. The warder knelt over the dead man. Konrad also bent down. There was no mark on the body. It was still warm; he had died not long ago.
“Are they here?” asked Konrad.
“Those two doors at the end.”
Konrad advanced into the shadows, and the officer followed. Another heavy door blocked off the tunnel, but there were two more doors before it, one on either side of the passage. They were both closed — and they were both locked. He peered in through the bars of the first door, lowering his voice so that the officer could not hear what he said.
“Litzenreich?” he whispered. “Ustnar?”
There was no response from either of the cells.
“Keys!” shouted the officer, and the guard hurried forward. “Open the door!” The guard did so. “Inside!”
Drawing his own blade, holding the lantern in front of him, the guard stepped into the first cell. Konrad and the officer also entered. The place was empty. So was the one opposite.
“They can’t have got out that way,” said Konrad, gesturing in the direction of the corpse. “They must have gone through here.” He pointed with his sword towards the end door.
“How did they get out of the cells?” asked the officer, his voice low. “How did they kill that soldier?”
“I don’t know. I don’t care. But get that door open, before they have more time to escape.”
“We can’t go through there.”
“Why not?”
“It’s locked. We don’t have a key. It’s never been opened while I’ve served here.”
So far, the subterranean jail had been as Konrad expected. He had learned of it from one of the Imperial guard who knew the layout from a warder. It had been Konrad’s intention to get this far, dispose of his escort, break Ustnar and Litzenreich out of their cells, then let the wizard open this final door. But it seemed that Litzenreich had already used his abilities to free himself, annulling the spell that the Altdorf sorcerers would have cast in an attempt to make their prisoner’s cell resistant to his magic.
Konrad pushed at the heavy door the officer claimed had never been opened, and it creaked on its rusty hinges, swinging back. It was a much thicker door than the others, far older, its ancient wood held together by heavy bands of metal. He looked at the officer, who nodded and took the lantern from the guard.
“We’re going through,” said the officer. “Bring as many men as you can, and as fast as you can. Send out a warning to block off all the sewer exits.”
The warder turned and ran back, the keys jingling as he vanished in the gloom, while Konrad peered ahead. The tunnel continued as far as could be seen in the flickering lantern light, but it became narrower, steeper.
“There’s an underground river somewhere,” said the Altdorf officer. “The sewers and drains empty into it, and then it joins up with the Reik downstream, beyond the city walls.”
Konrad knew this, and the subterranean stream had been his proposed escape route. Had the wizard and the dwarf headed this way? They must have done; there was nowhere else they could have gone.
The officer entered the passage, and Konrad followed. It was cold and damp within, and the lamplight seemed to be absorbed by the absolute blackness. They advanced cautiously, the sound of their boots echoing in the silence. After a time, Konrad noticed that they were no longer descending. The tunnel had become level. He felt a breath of air on his face. Somewhere ahead of them, there must have been a route to the open.
Not only that, but there was a distant glimmer of light and some kind of sound…
Konrad had expected to hear the rush of water across rocks as the hidden river cascaded beneath the city. But it was not that kind of natural sound; it seemed unlike any natural sound. He shivered, and not because he was cold.
The officer paused and glanced back. “What is it?” he breathed.
Konrad shook his head. He removed his gauntlets, tucking them into his belt.
“I don’t like it,” whispered the officer. “Maybe we should wait for reinforcements.”
Konrad said nothing, but he tried to push past the officer; the officer began moving again, keeping ahead of him. As they continued, the light ahead grew brighter, the noises louder. It was some kind of animal sound, almost like babies crying, hundreds and hundreds of them, whining and screaming in their hungry infant voices.
But the sounds were not human, Konrad knew. His mouth was dry, but his body soaked in sweat, and he gripped his sword with a clammy hand.
The officer suddenly halted, and Konrad almost bumped into him. He was staring straight ahead, gazing into the cavern which had opened up ahead of them. Konrad also stopped, watching the bizarre tableau with which they were confronted. The chamber was hung with stalactites speckled with phosphorescence, its spectral light illuminating the whole hideous scene.
“Konrad!” hissed a familiar voice. “We’ve been waiting for you.”
It was Gaxar, but the skaven had taken on his human form, and he stood only a dozen yards from the end of the shaft. The cave was much smaller than the area where he had refined warpstone:
a natural grotto, its walls and floor uneven, the river flowing through a channel at its centre.
Litzenreich and Ustnar lay stretched out on the ground. They were naked and had been crucified, their ankles and palms nailed to the rock. But those were not their only wounds: their bodies had been lacerated, and rivulets of red coursed over their tortured bodies. They had been gagged so they could not scream.
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There was a space between them, Konrad realized — a space waiting for him, with four heavy nails lying on the rocks, ready for his impalement.
All around the two prone figures crowded more naked shapes, small, sexless, humanoid, hairless. They were almost like the babies that Konrad had imagined he could hear crying — but they resembled infants in no other way.
There were scores of them, with massive deformed skulls, huge pink eyes, their bodies white like maggots. They were some breed of troglodyte beastmen, with long tongues, sharp fangs, bloated torsos, stunted tails, scaled skin, three claws at the end of each limb.
They pushed and grabbed at each other in their eagerness to lap at the blood from the wizard’s and the dwarf’s wounds. It was they who made the awful wailing sound, the sound of craving for living flesh.
It seemed their helpless victims’ weeping wounds were caused by teeth bites. The creatures had already begun their feral feast.
Silver Eye was there, standing close to Gaxar, the metal shield with its enigmatic golden emblem held in front of him. He thrust his tongue from his jaws, and Konrad remembered the skaven kiss when the rodent had lapped at his blood.
A few other creatures were also present, but Konrad could not make them out properly. They stood on a high ledge on the far side of the cavern, like spectators waiting to be entertained.
Konrad noticed all this in less than a second — the same second in which he transferred his sword to his left hand, while his right reached behind his back for the holster hidden beneath his cloak, from which he pulled his new weapon, aimed, fired.
The device was a one-handed crossbow, a precision tooled mechanism of brass wheels and steel cogs. The six inch bolt had already been in place, the taut wire drawn back. It was the armament Konrad had been practising with for the past week.
Gaxar may have been a grey seer, but he was not swift enough to save himself. The projectile took him in the right eye, jerking him back. He tried to clutch at the missile with his right hand -but he had no right hand. Without a sound, he slowly collapsed and became still.
[Konrad 02] - Shadowbreed Page 21