by Warhammer
Faces flashed before him like wreckage in the wind. Gotrek, Snorri. They were here. At least he was with them at their end. But there was no Max. No Malakai. No… no Ulrika. He cursed himself for thinking of her. Kat was here. Kat who loved him, and who he loved. He should be content. He should be ready.
A clap like thunder shook the ground and made him slap his hands to his ears. It felt as if his head was going to implode. Kat did the same, screaming inaudibly.
And then, utter silence. Utter blackness. Utter stillness. He lay in it a moment, stunned into motionlessness. Had the thunderclap broken his eardrums? Had it killed him? Was this some empty afterlife? He tried to feel his arms and legs, but he wasn’t sure he even had any any more. ‘Is this death, then?’ he whispered, looking around at the impenetrable darkness. ‘Is this the endless sleep of eternity?’
‘What did you say?’ said a voice from nearby. ‘Snorri can’t hear a thing.’
Felix frowned. He was pretty certain that the endless sleep of eternity wouldn’t have Snorri Nosebiter in it. Then Kat shifted against him and he realised that he was alive.
After another moment of quiet contemplation, he finally found the wherewithal to sit up. The blackness, which had seemed absolute after so much light, was now penetrable, showing stars above and far-off torches and fires down in the valley, and the faint glow of the moons that showed Felix the line of Kat’s cheekbone and the white streak in her hair.
‘What happened?’ she asked.
‘I don’t know,’ said Felix.
To their left, Gotrek, Rodi and Snorri were grunting to their feet. Felix and Kat did the same, groaning and weaving dizzily. Felix felt like he was on a ship in heavy seas. The ground wouldn’t stay still under his feet.
After a moment with his head down, he straightened and followed the dwarfs as they stepped out from behind the monoliths and looked into the circle.
The vortex was gone, and so was the herdstone. No trace of it remained. It had been sucked into the rift.
‘What happened to it?’ Felix asked. ‘I thought it was going to swallow us all.’
‘Things of Chaos are unstable, manling,’ said Gotrek. ‘It swallowed itself.’
‘Then the Empire is safe,’ said Felix with a relieved sigh. ‘The shaman is dead. The herdstone is gone. The people of the Drakwald will not become beasts–’
‘Taal and Rhya, look at the menhirs,’ breathed Kat, interrupting him.
Felix and the others turned to look at the ring of monoliths. They were all leaning in towards the centre of the circle, like fingers closing, or like old crones whispering to each other. He shivered. The vortex had nearly succeeded in pulling the massive slabs of stone from the ground – and if they had gone, Felix and the others would have been quick to follow.
‘Never mind the stones,’ said Rodi. ‘Look at the bodies.’
Felix looked where the young Slayer pointed. On the ground close to the centre of the circle, the bodies of a few beastmen remained, fallen where they had dropped when the vortex closed. There was nothing left of them but skeletons, but the skeletons were odd. They did not gleam white in the light of the two moons. They gleamed yellow – golden yellow.
‘Gold, by Grungni!’ cried Rodi, stepping forwards, his eyes gleaming with dwarfish lust. ‘And of the purest too, by the look of it.’
‘Snorri sees sapphires too,’ said Snorri, stepping closer and pointing to a golden skull.
Felix stared at the thing, amazed. The horns and claws and hooves of the skeleton were indeed deep, star-crossed sapphire, polished as if by a master jeweller.
Gotrek put his arms out and held Snorri and Rodi back. ‘You want nothing to do with that gold, nor that sapphire,’ he said.
‘But why not?’ said Rodi, his eyes glazed with desire. ‘It will solve everything. I can go back. I can pay the debt. I can…’
Gotrek slapped him hard across the cheek. Rodi snarled and doubled his fists.
Gotrek just glared at him, his single eye as cold as ice. ‘It has already made you forget your oath,’ he said. ‘And you haven’t yet touched it. Can you not see it for what it is?’
Rodi remained with his fists up for a long moment, then at last he sighed and lowered his hands. ‘You are right, Gurnisson. Gold born of such an abomination could only ever bring misery. Forgive me.’
‘Snorri still thinks it’s pretty,’ said Snorri.
Gotrek grunted and turned to Kat. ‘It is time to blow your horn, little one,’ he said, then looked to Felix and Snorri, his brow lowering. ‘And it is time for you–’
He was interrupted by a bright tantara of rally horns blaring from the north. Everyone turned. The thunder of guns and cannons echoed off the stones around them, and the roar of angry beasts filled the valley.
‘The armies!’ said Kat. ‘They’re attacking!’
TWENTY-ONE
Felix, Gotrek and the others ran out of the circle to the north end of the hill. By the torches and fires of the beastmen, and by the light of the two moons rising side by side in the black sky, they could see the surging movements of the forces in the valley below them.
The whole of the herd was pressing forwards towards the narrow north end of the valley where regimented ranks of cavalry and infantry were stabbing into their milling mass. Felix’s heart leapt at the sight.
‘Hurrah!’ cried Kat, throwing up a fist. ‘They have come! The beasts are smashed!’
Gotrek grunted. ‘Not with that force, they’re not.’
‘Aye,’ said Rodi. ‘Nor those tactics.’
Felix looked again, and his elation at the arrival of the armies faded. The Slayers were right. Everything was wrong.
It was difficult to tell in the uncertain light how many troops were cutting into the herd’s side, but there were certainly not seven thousand. For some reason, despite their earlier statements, it seemed Plaschke-Miesner and von Volgen had attacked without waiting for von Kotzebue to arrive. Worse, Felix saw that Gargorath the God-Touched and his lieutenants had escaped the herdstone’s implosion, and were at the forefront of their followers, urging them on and wreaking terrible damage in the human army’s front ranks.
‘What are they doing?’ Felix asked. ‘The lords said they wouldn’t engage without Kotzebue’s reinforcements.’
‘And they were to wait for the horn,’ said Kat.
‘It seems they found their courage after all,’ said Gotrek. ‘Though not their wits.’
It was true. The two lords’ armies were driving forwards so strongly that they were losing all advantage of terrain. If they had stayed in the narrow end of the valley and let the beasts come to them, they could have kept them all on their front, with their cannons, handguns and crossbows positioned on the steep hills to either side to keep the beasts from flanking them. Instead, the armies had stabbed so deeply into the mass of the herd that already the beastmen were curling around the ends of their lines to encircle them, and the cannons and guns were forced to fire at the edges of the herd so as not to hit their own troops. The lords had lost tactical superiority – the only advantage they had – within the first minute of the attack.
‘It’s madness!’ said Felix. ‘They’ve killed themselves, and taken all their men with them.’
‘Aye,’ said Rodi. ‘They’re acting like Slayers. A thing only Slayers should do.’
Snorri chuckled and smacked the haft of his hammer into his left hand. ‘Snorri thinks this will be a proper fight,’ he said, then plunged down the hill, bellowing a savage war cry.
‘Nosebiter, stop!’ shouted Gotrek.
It was too late. Snorri was already halfway down and didn’t hear him. Gotrek growled.
‘We better go keep him alive,’ said Rodi, grinning.
‘Aye,’ said Gotrek.
And with that they charged after Snorri, roaring war cries of their own.
Felix wanted to call out after them, but knew it would not change their minds to remind them that they had already done their part – that they
had killed the shaman and destroyed the stone and could retire from the field with honour for those accomplishments. That was not the Slayer way. By the Slayers’ logic, having saved the day, they were now free to die gloriously.
With sudden shock, Felix realised that he was miraculously free not to die gloriously. By some mad mischance, he had ended up in a position where he wasn’t in danger of being swallowed by Gotrek’s doom. He was up above the fray while the Slayer ran towards it. He could observe from here and then slip away with Kat to the barrow tunnels and to freedom where he could record Gotrek’s doom later at his leisure. He would have fulfilled his vow and lived to tell of it, and he could take Kat with him. He could have a life beyond his travels with Gotrek.
He turned to Kat, opening his mouth to tell her to come away with him, but then paused.
It felt wrong. He knew that he had vowed to Gotrek only to record his death, not die himself, but it still felt disloyal not to be fighting at the Slayer’s side at the end. Their relationship, whatever it was, had become more than just that of Slayer and rememberer. It wasn’t that they were friends in any way most men would recognise. They did not share their thoughts and inner turmoil with each other. They did not profess bonds of undying loyalty to each other. To the outside observer, and sometimes even to Felix himself, they seemed little more than master and servant. If Felix wanted to go somewhere and Gotrek didn’t, they didn’t go. It was not an equal partnership.
And yet, it was a partnership. They relied on each other, and trusted each other more than most so-called friends ever did. They knew each other better than they knew themselves, and certainly better than either of them knew anybody else. Like it or not, he and the Slayer were bound to each other by a bond not easily broken.
‘You want to go with them,’ said Kat, looking at him.
‘I don’t want to,’ said Felix. ‘But…’
Kat nodded. ‘But you have to.’
Felix grunted, angry with himself. ‘It’s ridiculous. I don’t understand it. I should be running away with you.’
‘You have known the Slayer for a long time,’ said Kat, smiling sadly. ‘You can’t leave him now.’
‘But…’ But, nothing. She was right. As stupid as it was, she spoke the truth. Felix sighed. ‘Go back to the stairs,’ he said. ‘Get away from here. This is a fool’s death.’
Kat shook her head. ‘My life began with you, Felix,’ she said, looking at him steadily. ‘It will end with you.’
‘Kat,’ said Felix. ‘Don’t be an ass. Live your life–’
But she was already screaming down the hill after the Slayers.
‘Kat!’
She did not slow. With a groan he charged down after her, but he cried no war cry.
In the minute since they had first looked down upon the battle it had become even worse. Plaschke-Miesner’s and von Volgen’s combined forces were completely surrounded by the herd, and the firing of the cannons and handguns was even more sporadic, as the gunners tried to aim around the central melee. But despite the insanity of the position the two young lords had put them in, Felix had to admit that their troops were maintaining good discipline. The wings of their formations had folded back and around as the beasts had swarmed them, and the army was now a neat square, bristling with spears on all four sides, with the sea of beastmen breaking against it and falling back as if it were a stone pier. Unfortunately, this formation had completely hemmed in the knights and mounted men-at-arms, making them almost useless. Felix saw a wedge of them struggling to reach Gargorath and his lieutenants on foot, their warhorses left with their squires in the centre of the square. At this rate, the army could not hope to last – and of course, the Slayers were driving right towards it.
With their longer legs, Felix and Kat caught up to Gotrek, Rodi and Snorri just as they reached the edges of the herd. The beastmen were facing away from them, all pushing north to get at the soldiers who had dared to attack them, and thus the Slayers’ first charge was more murder than melee. Gotrek’s and Rodi’s axes severed spines and hamstrung legs as Snorri’s warhammer crushed skulls and rib cages. Felix and Kat stabbed and chopped to their left and right.
But as the beastmen in the last ranks died, those before them turned, enraged, and fell upon the dwarfs in a frenzy. The Slayers laughed and pushed forwards to meet them, axes and hammer blurring as they blocked and countered a score of strikes. Felix and Kat stayed at their backs, guarding their flanks from the beasts that pressed in from the sides.
Gotrek looked over his shoulder as Karaghul deflected a spear tip meant for his neck. He glared at Felix.
‘You shouldn’t have followed, manling,’ he said.
‘I know, Gotrek,’ said Felix.
The dwarf nodded and carried on fighting. No more needed to be said.
As the Slayers pressed deeper into the herd, more beasts swept in behind them, cutting off their retreat. The Slayers had done exactly what Plaschke-Miesner and von Volgen had done, but as Rodi had said, they were Slayers. This is what they did.
Unfortunately, Felix and Kat were with them, and for a moment it seemed that they would be slaughtered as the beasts surrounded them. But then Rodi and Snorri turned and stepped in front of them, cackling as they slashed at the flankers. Felix and Kat edged back gratefully, and found themselves in the centre of a moving triangle formed by the three Slayers. In this way the five companions fought slowly through the beasts – a three-headed snapping turtle crawling through a pack of wild dogs, with Felix and Kat stabbing out from within the Slayers’ protection wherever they were needed. Felix shivered at the turtle metaphor, for he knew that, without the hard shell that Gotrek, Snorri and Rodi provided, the soft middle that was Kat and himself would die instantly. His chainmail and Kat’s light leather armour would be no protection against a full-on strike from one of the gors’ massive weapons.
After that there was no time for thought. Felix fell into the clanging rhythm of the battle, letting his eyes and ears tell him where his sword needed to be and taking his mind out of the equation – a block, a parry, a stab, a slash, a hop to the right, a twist to the left, over and over. Kat and the Slayers did the same. No one spoke a word. They worked together silently – a ten-armed threshing machine.
It was a precarious business. Despite the Slayers’ prowess, if the beastmen had mounted one concerted rush at them they would have been dead in seconds, knocked flat by the sheer mass of the gors’ huge bodies, and then run through before they could recover. Fortunately, the beastmen didn’t seem capable of such united effort. Instead, in their eagerness to kill, they fought each other almost as much as they fought the enemies in their midst – pushing, shoving and getting in each other’s way – and the five companions were thus able to fight them in ones and twos, rather than as a single overwhelming unit.
Another thing that helped keep Felix, Kat and the Slayers alive – though it terrified Felix almost more than the beasts themselves – was the sporadic firing of Plaschke-Miesner’s mortars. His gunnery crews had found their range and were lobbing shots over the encircled army into the mass of beasts pressing towards them – in other words, they were aiming right where the five companions were fighting.
Every few moments a huge iron shell would whistle down out of the sky, then explode with a thunderous boom, splashing broken beastmen in every direction. One of these explosive rounds landed so close to the companions that the shock of the blast jarred Felix to his knees and threw Kat to the ground. Fortunately, the wall of beasts took the brunt of the impact and they had time to recover. Another time, a thrown beastman crashed into Felix and Kat’s opponents and knocked them in all directions. Kat cut the throat of one before it stopped rolling, and Felix beheaded two more – then it was back to the endless dance as more rushed in to take their place.
That was the terrible, inescapable truth that gnawed at the back of Felix’s mind. It didn’t matter how many beasts they killed. There would always be more. Felix, Kat and the Slayers would eventually be g
round down by weariness and exhaustion and die not because the gors could out-fight them, but because they could outlast them. Already Felix’s arms were tired. Already his legs ached. Already his breath was harsh in his throat, and they had not killed a thousandth of the beastmen who filled the field.
Strangely, he was content. There was no fear any more, and no regret. If he died here, he died among friends, in a fitting conclusion to his life. He could have wished that there were others at his side – Max, Ulrika, Malakai – but it was selfish to want them to die here too just so that his circle could be complete, so he did not begrudge them their absence. This was a good death. They had already done a great thing today, no matter what else they had accomplished, and to go down fighting by Gotrek’s side felt fitting. He would be complete here. The notes from his journal – if it was ever found – all led up to this battle, and the rest could be filled in by some other chronicler, and the more exaggerated and legendary they made it, the better, Felix thought. A grand finish to a mad life.
He welcomed it.
A moment later they chopped their way through to von Volgen and Plaschke-Miesner’s lines, and were nearly attacked by the terrified spearmen who faced them. Felix could see by the men’s faces and their ragged line that their initial discipline was fading fast. If there had been anywhere to run, they would have broken. There wasn’t, so they fought on, but hopelessly, mechanically, knowing – as Felix knew – that they were only prolonging the end.
Desperate fights raged to either side of them as the five companions slipped through the spear ranks to the inside of the square. To the left, Felix could see Lord von Volgen leading his knights, his eyes mad with battle lust as he wheeled his horse and slashed at Gargorath. To the right, Lord Plaschke-Miesner, his helmet gone and his pretty face hideously marred by a cut that showed his back teeth, fought a pack of blue-daubed beastmen with a half-dozen young knights at his back. Further on, one of the towering, tree-felling minotaurs was sweeping its man-high axe through the ranks of a sword company and killing handfuls with every swing.