Gotrek & Felix- the Fourth Omnibus - Nathan Long

by Warhammer

  ‘Snorri likes this plan,’ said Snorri. ‘Snorri has been growing a little tired of staying inside this castle.’

  ‘You will stay on the walls, Nosebiter,’ said Gotrek. ‘Only I, Balkisson and the manling will go.’

  Snorri’s face fell. ‘Snorri doesn’t like this plan.’

  ‘Neither does Kat,’ said Kat, sullen.

  Gotrek looked at her. ‘You will keep us safe from spying eyes, little one,’ he said. ‘Flying eyes.’

  Kat nodded as she realised what he meant, but Felix could see that she was still disappointed. Snorri wasn’t the only one tired of staying inside the castle. Felix, on the other hand, would have been perfectly happy to remain on the walls.

  With a sigh he pulled his head back through the hoarding, but as he did, something caught his eye. On the support post next to him was a familiar little squiggle, and the wood around it was withered and dry. Felix frowned and looked down the wall. Bierlitz and his men were replacing a post about fifty paces along.

  ‘Have the carpenters not got to this post yet?’ he asked.

  Gotrek turned to him. ‘They replaced it this morning. Why?’

  Felix pointed to the symbol as his guts sank. ‘Then when could this have been done?’

  Kat and the Slayers stepped closer and looked at the post. Gotrek touched the blood with his finger. It smeared. It hadn’t fully dried yet.

  ‘Today,’ he said. ‘Within the hour.’

  Rodi scowled. ‘We’ve been talking almost that long. Did the bastard do it while we were standing here?’

  Gotrek stumped to the next post with the others following. It too had been marked, and its blood not yet dry.

  ‘Snorri remembers they replaced that one too,’ said Snorri.

  All of them looked around, scanning the people in the courtyard and on the covered parapet. Felix cursed. It was impossible. There were too many, and it could be anyone – one of the men who was clearing rubble with the work gangs, one of the Shallyans carrying another body to the pyre, one of the handgunners who stood at their posts on the wall. It could be von Geldrecht or von Volgen or Classen or Volk or Bosendorfer, all of whom were peering out towards the zombies’ new siege towers. Then there was Bierlitz and his crew putting up the new posts – was the old carpenter putting the mark on them as he erected them? Or was it Father Ulfram walking the walls with Danniken and giving encouragement to the men?

  ‘We should tell the steward,’ said Kat, looking towards von Geldrecht and von Volgen, ‘though Bosendorfer will likely accuse us of it just for spite–’

  ‘Wait,’ said Felix. ‘Wait!’

  Kat and the Slayers looked at him.

  He nodded towards Ulfram and Danniken. ‘Watch the acolyte,’ he said. ‘Watch Danniken.’

  The others turned. Felix bit his lip. Was he right? Was he seeing what he thought he was seeing? It was hard to tell in the shadow of the hoarding roof.

  The gaunt acolyte took Father Ulfram’s elbow as the priest finished talking to a group of handgunners, then walked him along the wall to the next group. As Ulfram hailed the men and began asking them questions, Danniken stepped back demurely and leaned against a support post, as if waiting for Father Ulfram to finish, but as he waited, he idly took out a little knife and cleaned his fingernails, then, accidentally – or so it seemed – cut the tip of his index finger.

  He hissed and squeezed it, then circled his hand around the outside of the post and traced his bloody finger back and forth across the wood, never once looking at what he was doing.

  ‘Clever,’ said Rodi.

  ‘But how– how can he…?’ stuttered Kat. ‘He held the Hammer of Judgement and did not burn! When all the others were ordered to touch it, he brought it to Ulfram and–’

  ‘He didn’t!’ said Felix, remembering suddenly. ‘It was wrapped in furs! He never once touched it with his bare hands!’

  ‘Enough talk,’ said Gotrek. ‘He dies now.’

  ‘Wait,’ said Felix. ‘We must tell von Geldrecht. We don’t want anyone crying murder.’

  Gotrek grunted with impatience as Felix hurried down the wall to where von Geldrecht, von Volgen, Classen, Bosendorfer and Volk still watched the zombies and talked amongst themselves. He checked the post next to von Geldrecht. It too had been marked, and was already rotting.

  ‘My lord steward,’ he whispered.

  Von Geldrecht and the others looked around.

  ‘What is it now, Herr Jaeger?’ asked the steward, witheringly. ‘Do you wish to upbraid me again?’

  Felix pointed to the flaking post. ‘New marks.’

  ‘What!’ he cried, and stepped forwards with the others crowding in.

  Von Volgen sighed when he saw the rotting wood. Von Geldrecht cursed and slapped the wall.

  ‘Quietly, my lord,’ said Felix, glancing back at Danniken and Ulfram. ‘We have found the traitor.’

  ‘What? Who?’ said von Geldrecht.

  ‘Watch Danniken,’ said Felix. ‘Watch his hands.’

  ‘Danniken?’ said the steward, again louder than he should. ‘What has he–’

  Felix gripped his arm to quiet him, and nodded in the direction of the acolyte and the warrior priest. Von Geldrecht turned and watched with the rest as Danniken led Ulfram to the next group of men, then retired to lean against another post. Again, he followed the same routine, taking out his knife, paring his nails, reopening the cut on his finger, then drawing with his blood on the outside of the post.

  ‘But…’ said Bosendorfer. ‘But, but…’

  ‘Sigmar’s beard!’ breathed von Geldrecht. ‘The acolyte! A man of the cloth!’

  ‘A vile saboteur,’ snarled von Volgen.

  Classen started forwards, reaching for his sword. ‘Come, let us show him Sigmar’s mercy.’

  Von Geldrecht held him back. ‘No! I wish to interrogate him.’

  ‘Yes!’ said Bosendorfer, his eyes glittering. ‘We must learn who his associates are!’

  ‘No good comes from waiting to kill warlocks,’ said Gotrek, coming up with Kat, Snorri and Rodi.

  The steward ignored him and motioned to Classen. ‘You and Bosendorfer go down and come up behind him, through the gatehouse. We will trap him from this side. There will be nowhere for him to go.’

  ‘Aye, lord steward,’ said Classen and Bosendorfer in unison, then started for the stairs.

  Von Geldrecht beckoned to the others. ‘Come,’ he said. ‘Let us take a stroll around the walls.’

  ‘He has his back to us,’ grumbled Kat as they started forwards. ‘Why can’t I just shoot him?’

  Felix and the other humans made horrible attempts at miming casualness, but the dwarfs just walked along at their normal pace, glaring ahead with undisguised loathing. Felix almost said something, but then realised that they always looked like that, so were unlikely to raise Danniken’s suspicions.

  Something did, however. Perhaps it was Classen and Bosendorfer’s wary posture as they came out of the gatehouse on his left, or the fact that eight people were bearing down on him from the right, or perhaps his dark powers warned him, but as von Geldrecht got within twenty paces of him, the acolyte’s head came up and his eyes darted left and right, widening.

  ‘He’s on to us,’ said Rodi.

  Gotrek, Rodi and Snorri pushed past von Geldrecht and von Volgen, taking their weapons off their backs, as Felix, Kat and Volk fell in behind them. On the far side of the acolyte, Classen and Bosendorfer hurried forwards as well.

  With a wild look, Danniken leapt to Father Ulfram and pulled him in front of him, putting his little knife to the priest’s neck as the handgunners cried out in surprise.

  ‘What’s this?’ barked Ulfram. ‘Who’s that? What’s happening?’

  ‘Kill me and I kill him!’ said the acolyte.

  ‘Fair enough,’ said Gotrek, still walking forwards with Snorri and Rodi as everyone else stopped.

  ‘Dwarfs! Hold!’ cried von Geldrecht. ‘We cannot risk Father Ulfram’s life.’

&
nbsp; ‘What is going on?’ said Ulfram, turning his bandaged head this way and that as the Slayers reluctantly stopped. ‘Danniken, is that you?’

  ‘Your acolyte is the traitor, father,’ said von Volgen. ‘The foul warlock who closed the moat and weakened our defences.’

  ‘And did you also poison the water, villain?’ asked von Geldrecht. ‘And ruin the food?’

  ‘Who are your accomplices?’ barked Bosendorfer. ‘Is Tauber in league with you?

  Danniken’s face split into a maniacal grin. ‘Yes, I spoilt the food!’ he cackled. ‘And the water! And blinded Father Ulfram’s witch sight as I treated his eyes after Grimminhagen.’

  ‘You whelp!’ cried Ulfram, struggling. ‘I’ll–’

  Danniken pressed the knife deeper into the priest’s throat, drawing blood. ‘And yes, Tauber is in league with me,’ he continued. ‘And dozens of others. We are legion, my lords! Legion! You will never root us out!’

  ‘Who?’ asked von Geldrecht, his jowls quivering. ‘Who are they? Tell me their names!’

  ‘You are all traitors!’ said Danniken. ‘Your bones are traitors, lurking within your flesh, waiting only for death to betray you! And I will free them!’

  And with that he tipped his head back and began keening in an ancient and arcane tongue.

  The handgunners cowered back in superstitious fear, and Felix, Kat and the other humans hesitated, afraid to endanger Father Ulfram’s life, but the Slayers had no such compunctions. They started forwards, raising their weapons. Father Ulfram, however, acted first.

  ‘Hammer of Sigmar give me strength!’ roared the old priest, and drove the back of his head into Danniken’s jaw, snapping his teeth shut and cutting off his chant. The acolyte staggered against the battlement, spitting blood and pulling the priest with him.

  ‘Well done, father!’ cried von Geldrecht.

  As the others surged in, the priest turned and threw blind fists at Danniken, shouting, ‘Heretic! In Sigmar’s name I cast thee out!’

  A wild blow knocked the acolyte flat between two crenellations, but Ulfram overbalanced and fell on top of him, his head and shoulders over the wall.

  ‘Stop them!’ called von Geldrecht. ‘Catch them!’

  Bosendorfer reached them first and grabbed for Ulfram’s ankles, but Danniken, with surprising strength, bucked under Ulfram, dragging the priest another foot over the edge, and the greatsword’s hands were kicked away in the flailing.

  Gotrek shoved Bosendorfer aside and grabbed Ulfram’s long white surcoat, but too late. The priest and the false acolyte flipped over the side, still fighting and bellowing, and the Slayer was left holding a long strip of white cloth.

  Felix and Kat pressed to the edge with everyone else and saw the two bodies smack into the thick mud of the empty moat amongst the milling zombies. For a long second, they and the others just stared as the bodies lay there, unmoving, but then, amazingly, the old priest coughed and gasped and flailed an arm.

  ‘Father Ulfram!’ called von Geldrecht. ‘Father, are you all right? A rope, someone! A rope!’

  It was Danniken, however, who rose first, pushing up from the priest’s body, broken and bedraggled. He looked up at the parapet and laughed, his mouth full of mud and blood, then hauled Ulfram up by the collar and raised his little knife high as the priest pawed feebly at Danniken’s legs with broken hands.

  Danniken stabbed him in the chest. ‘At last I am free to join my master!’ he cried, striking again. ‘As you will all join my master, to march with him on–’

  An arrow appeared in his mouth, buried halfway to the fletching like some sword-swallower’s trick. The acolyte’s words cut off in a gargle of blood and his eyes showed white all around. Felix looked to his right. Kat’s bowstring was still quivering. Her eyes blazed.

  Danniken fell slowly backwards to lie beside Ulfram, who sprawled face down in the mud, blood spreading out below him in a red pool.

  Gotrek grunted and glared at von Geldrecht. ‘Should have done that at the start.’

  The steward didn’t seem to have heard. He just continued to stare down at the priest. ‘Volk,’ he said quietly, ‘ask Bierlitz to rig a rope and harness. We will recover Father Ulfram’s body, and give him the proper rites. We will also sever Danniken’s head and search his body for–’

  He paused as Father Ulfram’s body twitched and he tried to get his hands under him.

  ‘Father – Father Ulfram!’ he cried. ‘Father, do you still live? Sigmar be praised! Volk, the ropes! Quickly!’

  Volk ran off towards Bierlitz, but as Father Ulfram pushed himself unsteadily to his feet in the ankle-deep mud, Danniken sat up beside him, staring straight up because the arrow through his mouth wouldn’t let him lower his head.

  ‘Blood of Sigmar!’ swore von Geldrecht as the acolyte stood. ‘Danniken lives too. Shoot him again, archer, before he does Father Ulfram further harm!’

  Kat dutifully put another arrow to the string, but Danniken did not attack Ulfram. Nor did Ulfram attack Danniken. Instead, the two of them turned as one, and began to shuffle together into the milling horde of zombies all around them. By the time Volk had come back with Bierlitz, Felix had lost them in the horde. It had swallowed them whole.

  Von Geldrecht leaned against the battlements and let his head sink down until it touched the stone. ‘Forgive me, Bierlitz,’ he said in a tired voice. ‘There is nothing for you to do here. Continue replacing the damaged posts. Classen, Bosendorfer, Volk, spread the word. Our traitor has been found – and he is dead.’

  Classen and Volk nodded, but Bosendorfer stayed where he was. ‘And what shall we do about the other traitors, my lord? Tauber, and the scores of others Danniken mentioned.’

  Von Volgen snorted.

  Von Geldrecht closed his eyes and pushed himself upright. ‘Don’t be an ass, greatsword. There are no other traitors. He only said it to sow discord among us. Go and do as I have ordered.’

  Bosendorfer glowered, but saluted and went off with Classen without another word. The Slayers fell in with Volk, asking him about blackpowder and fuses, but Felix hesitated near von Geldrecht and von Volgen.

  ‘Er, my lord steward,’ he said, ‘I apologise for bringing it up again, but if you believe Danniken was the only traitor, then do you believe Tauber is innocent?’

  Von Geldrecht frowned, then sighed. ‘Yes, Herr Jaeger,’ he said. ‘He is most likely innocent.’

  ‘So, you’ll release him?’

  ‘Sadly, I cannot.’

  Von Volgen grunted, anger flaring in his eyes. ‘My lord, why not? The man is needed.’

  The steward looked from Felix to the lord, then turned away, his face haggard and glum. ‘I am sorry, but it is Graf Reiklander’s decision, not mine. Please let it lie.’

  He started to limp for the stairs, but von Volgen stepped in his way, his jaw set. ‘My lord, I would like to hear this order from Graf Reiklander’s own lips. It is not only the lives of the men of Castle Reikguard that are at stake. Many of my knights have died these past days for want of care. I would like to hear from him the reasons why.’

  Von Geldrecht’s face reddened. ‘That is impossible,’ he said. ‘The graf is too sick to be disturbed.’

  ‘Aye?’ asked von Volgen. ‘And perhaps too sick to give orders?’

  The steward froze, glaring. ‘What are you implying, my lord? Speak plainly.’

  Von Volgen held his gaze for a moment, then coughed and looked down. ‘I do not blame you, lord steward. I think it only natural that, with command thrust upon you as it has been, you would use the graf’s name to add authority to your orders… regardless if the graf was giving them or not.’

  Von Geldrecht looked like he was going to explode, then he too looked away. ‘Your suspicion is understandable, my lord,’ he said. ‘But Graf Reiklander does still rule here, and he wishes Tauber to remain imprisoned. I am sorry. You will have to take my word on it.’

  And with that he turned away, limping to the stairs and cracking his cane angrily w
ith every step.

  Von Volgen’s fists clenched and it looked like he was going to call after him, but he restrained himself, and turned back to the wall to stare out over the zombie horde.

  Felix looked at von Volgen for a long minute, then stepped away from Kat to lean beside him. ‘My lord,’ he whispered, ‘why don’t you take his place?’

  FIFTEEN

  Von Volgen turned from the wall, eyes hard. ‘I don’t know what you mean, mein Herr.’

  Felix grunted, impatient, and looked over his shoulder as Kat joined them. ‘Yes you do, my lord. Von Geldrecht is no general. You know that. He isn’t much more than a jumped-up quartermaster, and he is leading us to ruin! You could lead us to victory – or survival at least.’

  Von Volgen fixed him with a cold stare. ‘You speak of mutiny.’

  ‘I speak of saving men’s lives!’ Felix blurted, then lowered his voice again. ‘He has already killed half of us with his hesitations and his refusal to free Tauber. Will you sit and watch while he kills the rest? You could save us! You want to save us!’

  ‘Yes, my lord,’ said Kat. ‘Please.’

  The knuckles of von Volgen’s hands were as white as bone, and the veins in his neck stood out like ropes. Felix was afraid he was going to hit him, but when he spoke, his words were quiet and measured.

  ‘Herr Jaeger, I thank you for the high opinion you have of my abilities,’ he said. ‘But it doesn’t matter what I want. I have no authority here. I may advise. I may suggest, but it would be mutiny, indeed, treason, for me to try to wrest command from the man the rightful lord of this castle has given it to, and I will not commit treason.’

  ‘But your men may die!’ whispered Felix. ‘His men may die! Sigmar’s beard, if Kemmler takes Castle Reikguard and leads us all to Altdorf, it might be the Empire that dies! Isn’t that a greater treason?’

  Von Volgen turned and looked back out over the endless army of corpses, his brow furrowed. ‘You make a compelling argument,’ he said at last. ‘But I cannot agree. Law is the strength of our Empire, Herr Jaeger. More than strength of arms or faith in Sigmar, the laws that bind lord to lord and lord to peasant protect us. They allow us to trust one another, to unite and to know that the strong will not take advantage of the weak in times of crisis.’