by Warhammer
‘Musing,’ she asked, sliding closer to him along the rail. ‘About what?’
‘Oh, ah, nothing really. Just, well, just musing.’ He looked around him for an excuse to escape, but could see none.
She touched his arm and looked at him with her deep blue eyes. ‘You hide a secret grief, don’t you, Herr Jaeger.’
‘Eh? Oh no, not really. No more than anybody else, I should think.’
‘I don’t believe it,’ she said.
Felix didn’t have any response to that except for a keen desire to push her over the side, so he said nothing, just watched the reeds go by and hoped she would go away. Unfortunately, she did not.
‘Have you ever loved, Herr Jaeger?’
Felix choked, and had to cover his mouth as he was wracked with sudden coughs. ‘Once or twice, I suppose,’ he said, when he had recovered.
She turned and faced him, leaning her shapely hip against the rail. ‘Tell me about them.’
‘You don’t want to hear about that,’ he said.
‘Oh, but I do,’ the seeress said, her eyes never leaving his. ‘You fascinate me, Herr Jaeger.’
‘Ah,’ said Felix. And in spite of his best efforts, he found himself thinking back to the women he had shared a bed with throughout his wanderings. There had been a fair number over the years, mostly half-remembered tavern girls and harlots in lonely ports scattered from the Old World to Ind, and a few who stood out above the rest; Elissa, the barmaid at the Blind Pig, who had stolen his money, and for a time his heart, Siobhain of Albion, who had travelled with him and Gotrek in the dark lands of the east, and the Veiled One, spy and assassin for the Old Man of the Mountain, whose true name he had never learned. But there were only two he had ever truly loved: Kirsten, with whom he had thought to settle down and raise a family, murdered by the mad playwright Manfred von Diehl in a little outpost in the Border Princes, and Ulrika, with whom he had thought to travel the world, worse-than-murdered by the vampire Adolphus Krieger. The memories, one long buried and one still as raw as an open wound, brought a lump to his throat. Damn the woman. Why had she asked such a vile question? He turned away from her so she wouldn’t see the pain in his eyes.
‘I have only ever loved two women,’ he said at last. ‘And they are both dead. Is that fascinating enough?’
Perhaps he hadn’t done a very good job masking his pain after all, for when he turned to look at her, she stepped back, eyes wide and face pale, and put a hand to her heart.
‘I… I’m sorry, Herr Jaeger,’ she said. ‘I did not think… That is, I did not mean…’ Her face went suddenly from white to pink, and she turned and hurried away, almost running for the door to the underdecks in her haste.
Felix turned back to the rail, cursing her for digging so thoughtlessly into his heart, but then a cheerier thought came into his mind. Perhaps this meant that she would leave him alone from now on.
Suddenly the day looked a little brighter.
Alas, it was not to be. She said nothing to him at lunch, only spooned dully at her stew and glanced at him guiltily when she thought he wasn’t looking, but later in the afternoon, just when he was getting another few hours of marsh-watching in, she reappeared at his side, eyes downcast and lip out-thrust.
‘I want to apologise to you, Herr Jaeger,’ she said. ‘I was awful to you earlier today and I feel terrible about it.’
‘Forget it,’ said Felix, wishing she really would. Unfortunately she persisted.
She took another step closer to him. ‘Sometimes I forget that men are not books, to be opened and read like… er, books. I should not have pried and I am truly sorry for it.’
‘Never mind,’ said Felix, throwing a splinter from the rail into the water. ‘No harm done.’
He felt a soft pressure on his arm and turned to see that she was leaning against him. The swell of her breast under her dark blue robe pressed against his elbow. ‘If there is any way…’ she said, looking up at him from under her long lashes, ‘any way that I could make it up to you, I would be grateful for the opportunity.’
Felix stood, rolling his eyes, then turned to face her. ‘I am beginning to wonder, fraulein, if you didn’t use your visions to convince the Slayer to come on this journey just so that you would be able to get me alone on a ship.’
The seeress blinked at that, then drew herself up haughtily as the full meaning of what he had said sank in. ‘The oath of the Celestial Order is very clear, Herr Jaeger,’ she said. ‘We will not use our powers for personal gain, nor will we announce false visions or predictions for any reason whatsoever!’
‘Well, I won’t tell if you won’t,’ said Felix, a little meaner than he had intended.
‘Oh!’ she said. Then ‘Oh!’ again. Then she turned and stomped away just as quickly as she had before, but with much more noise. Felix hoped this time it would stick, but he very much doubted it.
On the afternoon of the third day, he sat down on the aft deck with his journal to fill in the so far thrilling events of their journey up the Sea of Manann. Apparently, his last insult had done the trick, for he was able to get in nearly a full hour of scribbling without any interruptions from Fraulein Pallenberger. It was very refreshing.
When he was finished he closed the journal, sighed contentedly and sat back, thinking that a little dinner would be in order shortly. But then the feeling that he was being watched crept over him and he turned, expecting to find Claudia peeking out from behind a mast. Instead, it was Max, leaning against the opposite rail and observing him with furrowed intensity as he puffed on his pipe.
Felix raised an eyebrow. What had he done this time? Hadn’t he given Claudia the cold shoulder? Surely Max couldn’t be unhappy about that.
He nodded politely and began to cap his ink and put away his pen. Before he finished, Max had tapped his pipe out on the rail and crossed to him, sitting down next to him on an overturned bucket. Felix hid a sigh. Was he going to get another lecture?
‘Good afternoon, Max,’ he said, as pleasantly as he could.
Max continued to look at him, saying nothing for long enough that Felix began to feel uncomfortable.
At last, just as Felix was about to ask what the matter was, he spoke. ‘You really haven’t aged a day, Felix.’
Felix sighed. ‘Everyone says that. I’m getting a little tired of–’
‘I do not mean it as a compliment,’ said Max. ‘I mean it as a fact. It is impossible that you should look this young and vigorous.’ He frowned and pointed at Felix’s cheek. ‘You used to have a scar, just there. Do you remember?’
Felix reached up and touched his cheek – the duelling scar, taken when he had fought his schoolmate Krassner at university, and killed him.
‘It’s gone now,’ said Max.
‘Scars fade,’ said Felix.
‘Not a scar like that. Not completely. And yet it has.’
Felix frowned. He didn’t like this scrutiny. ‘But isn’t that good?’
‘Good?’ Max shrugged. ‘Yes, I suppose. But mysterious as well. Something unnatural is affecting your body – keeping it young, keeping it free from disease, allowing you to recover from wounds faster and more completely than you should. I know other hardy warriors of your age, Felix. They are strong and fit, but their knees still creak and their hands are scarred. Their faces are lined and creased. Yours is not. You no longer look a youth of twenty, it’s true, but you look ten years younger than your true age and well cared for besides.’
‘I think you’re exaggerating, Max. But if what you say is true, what…’ Felix swallowed, uncertain he wanted to know the answer. ‘What do you think has caused it?’
Max leaned back, stroking his neat beard and considering. ‘I don’t know, but I can think of several possibilities. You will note,’ he said, adopting a professorial tone, ‘that Gotrek is affected in the same way. More so, in fact. There is no dwarf stronger or more massive than he. I’ll wager he has the strength of ten of his kind. And he too is virtually unscarred, but f
or his missing eye. Perhaps something the two of you encountered during your journey to the Chaos Wastes has caused this effect. Or it might be some consequence of entering that portal through which you disappeared when I saw you last. Perhaps it is some property of Gotrek‘s axe. It is a weapon of great power. Perhaps it is keeping him, and you, fit for some important purpose, though what that might be, I couldn’t say. Whatever it is, it is possible it could keep you alive indefinitely.’
‘Indefinitely? You mean I might be…’ He laughed at the ridiculousness of it. ‘Immortal?’
‘Or as near as makes no difference,’ said Max, nodding. ‘But be aware that it is not an unmixed blessing. We of the Empire are not tolerant of the unusual or the unnatural, Felix. If you continue to look as you do for another ten or twenty years, people will talk. You might be accused of being some sort of mutant, or a master of the dark arts, or even one of the undead.’
Felix blanched. He had never considered that his good health might be seen as the taint of Chaos. What was he supposed to do, get sick?
Max sighed and stood. ‘I must go hold Scholar Aethenir’s hand again, but think on what I have said, Felix. I believe it would be wise to face your true nature, instead of pretending you have not changed.’
‘Thank you, Max,’ said Felix, softly. ‘I will.’
He barely noticed Max as he turned and left, so confounded was he by what the wizard had said. He didn’t want to believe it. How could it be true? If something had happened to him, wouldn’t he have noticed? He felt no different than he ever had. But perhaps that is what Max had meant. He should have felt different – achy, more run down, older.
What if he was immortal? Should he be happy about it? It was every man’s dream to live forever, wasn’t it? But to be made immortal without his consent by some force he didn’t understand – that was more unnerving than thrilling. And did he really want to be following the Slayer into danger for ever and ever without end? Even the wildest journey must come to an end sometime, mustn’t it?
A sudden thought came to him and made his heart lurch. Could he be some sort of vampire, as Max suggested? That would mean that he and Ulrika could be together after all! But no, he decided with a sigh, he doubted very much he was a vampire. He was sitting in the sun, wasn’t he? And he had not, as far as he could remember, ever drunk anyone’s blood. And besides, if he were a vampire, he would never have the chance to be with Ulrika, because Gotrek would kill him first.
‘Sail ho!’ called a voice from above. ‘To the stern on our heading.’
Felix looked up. This sort of cry had been frequent on the first two days of their journey, when the Pride of Skintstaad had been at the narrow end of the Manannspoort Sea and in the major shipping lane, but as they had continued to hug the east coast while most of the traders hugged the west, heading for Bretonnia, Estalia and Tilea, other ships had become fewer and fewer.
He rose and joined Captain Breda at the aft rail. Far in the distance, between the iron sea and the pewter sky, was a sharp fleck of white, like a tooth sticking up over the horizon.
‘What sort of ship is it?’ asked Felix.
The captain shrugged. ‘Hard to tell, this far out,’ he said. ‘Three masts. Square rigged. Marienburg, most likely, possibly Imperial. Don’t know what she’s doing going north. Not much trade with the Norse this late in the year. Wouldn’t be doing it myself, if it weren’t for the high one’s gold.’
The ship remained on the horizon for the rest of the day, not gaining and not falling back. Captain Breda left instructions for the night watch to keep an eye on its lights and wake him if it got closer, but it never did.
The fourth day dawned grey and misty, with gusts of intermittent rain, and it was impossible to tell if the ship with the white sail was still behind them or not.
Just before noon, the Pride of Skintstaad sailed past the last headland of the Manaanspoort Sea and out into the great black expanse of the Sea of Chaos. The north wind, which had been softened somewhat by its passage over the Wasteland, was here a cold wet slap in the face. All the sailors donned oiled leather jerkins and shivered at their stations. Felix pulled his red cloak closer around him and looked in all directions. For all his travels, he had never sailed these waters before. Directly north was Norsca, land of longships, snow-topped mountains and fur-clad reavers. East was Erengrad and Kislev and the Sea of Claws. West was fabled Albion, the mist-shrouded isle that he and Gotrek had once visited, but never travelled to. Adventure awaited in every direction, but on the whole, it all seemed a bit chilly and unappealing.
It was a few hours later that the inevitable finally happened, and Gotrek and Aethenir crossed paths. Such a confrontation had so far been avoided because both the elf and the dwarf had spent most of their time in their cabins, and generally came up only to use the privy. Thus, it was at the privy that the meeting occurred.
The privy of the Pride of Skintstaad was nothing more than a round hole in a bench that hung out over the prow of the ship, directly under the bowsprit and screened off from the rest of the ship by a leather curtain. The path to it was very narrow, a little wedge of space between the looming bowsprit and the starboard rail, which had spare sails and spars and other nautical debris lashed to it.
Though Felix was not there for the beginning of the argument, it started, apparently, when Aethenir stepped out of the privy and found Gotrek waiting impatiently to go in.
The first Felix and the rest of the crew heard of it was Gotrek’s rasp rising above the sounds of wind and wave.
‘I’ll not step aside for any honourless, tree-worshipping elf! You step aside!’
‘Do you dare make demands of me, dwarf? I have paid for this ship, and you are upon it at my pleasure. Now step aside, I say.’
Felix sprang up from where he had been reading more of his travels with Gotrek, and ran for the prow. This was just what was needed. Max too was hurrying to the scene. Aethenir’s household guard was not far behind. When they all reached the tiny space, they found the elf and the dwarf face to face – or face to chest, to be more accurate – and barking at each other like dogs.
‘I go where I please, when I please, and no pompous, prick-eared pantywaist is going to bar my way. Now step aside before I throw you overboard!’
‘Stubborn son of earth. I do not bar your way. You bar mine!’
‘Gotrek,’ called Felix. ‘Leave off. What is the point of this?’
‘Yes, Slayer,’ said Max. ‘Give way and have done.’
‘Give way to an elf?’ said Gotrek, with a dangerous edge to his voice. ‘I would die first.’
‘By Asuryan,’ said Aethenir. ‘There would be no need for this argument were you to shave that monstrous filthy beard. There would be room enough for both of us then.’
Gotrek froze, his one eye blazing. His hand slowly reached up and caught the haft of his axe. ‘What did you say?’
Felix heard the scrape of steel as the high elf’s warriors all drew their swords at once.
Aethenir looked up to them. ‘Captain Rion! Brothers! Defend me! Save me from this mad rock hewer!’
The elves pushed forwards through the other onlookers.
‘Coward,’ snarled Gotrek, bringing his axe before him and ignoring the elves at his rear. ‘Would you have others fight your battles for you? Draw your sword!’
‘I carry no sword,’ said Aethenir, backing against the privy curtain. ‘I am a scholar.’
‘Ha!’ barked Gotrek. ‘A scholar should be wise enough not to start with his mouth what he can’t finish with his hands.’ He took another step towards the elf.
‘Turn, dwarf,’ said Captain Rion, a weathered-looking elf with cold grey eyes. ‘I would not slay even a tunnel-digger from behind.’
Gotrek turned and grinned at the thicket of sharp steel that faced him. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘You first, then the “scholar”.’
Felix squeezed in beside him. ‘Gotrek, listen to me. You can’t do this.’
‘Step back, manl
ing,’ growled Gotrek. ‘You’re crowding my arm.’
Felix stayed where he was. ‘Gotrek, please. He might deserve it, but he paid for the ship. This voyage ends if you kill him or his friends. Remember the seeress’s vision? The black mountain? The tide of blood? The towering abomination? If this argument ends in slaughter we all go back to Marienburg and that doom fades away like all the others. Is that what you want?’
Gotrek stood rigid for a long moment, breathing heavily. Felix could see his jaw muscles clenching under his beard as he ground his teeth. At last he put up his axe and turned, shouldering roughly past Aethenir as the elf flattened against the rail.
Gotrek slapped aside the curtain, then looked back. ‘This had better be a damned good doom!’
He turned and disappeared into the privy. There was a noise like an explosion in a brewery.
Everybody hurried quickly away.
Felix retired to his cramped cabin that night well pleased. Though Gotrek’s altercation with Aethenir had been a terrifying near-massacre that had almost ended their journey before it had really begun, afterwards, Felix had been heartened at the thought of how angry and alive the Slayer had been – trading spirited insults with the elf and challenging his whole retinue to a fight. Such a contrast to the somnambulant lump that had sat glumly in the Griffon with barely the energy to lift his tankard to his lips. The seeress’s vision seemed to have worked upon him like an elixir, raising him from the living death of his depression and giving him purpose again.
As he lay down in the tiny cupboard bed and pulled the heavy quilt over him, Felix hoped that, for the Slayer‘s sake, the premonition wasn’t a lie. After that his thoughts became scattered, and he let the swell of the waves and the creaks and groans of the ship timbers lull him into a deep, dreamless sleep.