Warhammer - The Cold Hand of Betrayal

by Marc Gascoigne, Christian Dunn (ed) (lit)

  Sensing his scrutiny of her old wound, Rhianna said, 'It still pains me now and then.' 'I'm sorry, Rhianna.' said Eldain, 'I did not mean to-'

  'Don't worry.' she said smoothly. 'Caelir removed the bolt swiftly, but the druchii left me an ugly scar and I do not like to display it.'

  Taking a moment to recover his composure, Eldain said, 'It is good to see you again, my lady. It has been too long since you visited us in Tor Elyr.'

  'I know.' she said. 'I wanted to come for your father's funeral, but, well...'

  'I understand.' said Eldain. 'Your father brought us your condolences. They were most welcome.'

  An awkward silence descended upon the pair until Rhianna asked, 'Have you eaten yet?'

  'Eaten? No, I have not.' said Eldain. 'I have had much to do today and have not had the time.'

  'Nor have I. Will you join me in some food and wine? You are right, it has been too long since we talked.'

  Eldain was about to refuse when he thought back to Caelir's advice that there was always time for a fine wine - especially with a beautiful woman - and said, 'I would be honoured to join you, my lady.'

  Smiling, she accepted his offered support and the two of them strolled down the Boulevard of the Phoenix arm in arm, looking for all the world like two lovers out for an afternoon constitutional. Just being near Rhianna made Eldain feel more at peace than he had done in a long time, and as they walked, he cast sly glances at her face, remembering touching her skin and whispering promises of love in her gently tapered ear... what seemed like an age ago.

  They walked in a companionable silence, turning into a narrow side street with many brightly coloured awnings providing cool shade for the patrons of the eating-houses and wineries that filled the street. Rhianna led him towards a shop with a glittering front, fashioned from coloured chips of polished glass to depict a pastoral landscape of great beauty.

  'I know the owner of this establishment.' explained Rhianna. 'He sells only the finest honeycakes and freshest sweetmeats. And he has a friend that brings him bottles of Avelorn dreamwine...'

  'Dreamwine.' said Eldain. 'I have not tasted it before, but am told it is fine indeed.'

  'Then we shall each have a glass.' stated Rhianna. 'Take a seat and I will see to our order.'

  As a proud male, Eldain knew he should see to their food and drink, but as an elf obviously not from Lothern, he knew that he would seem like a bumpkin to the vendors of the city. He found an unoccupied table near the wall and examined the mosaic on the shopfront in more detail. It truly was magnificent and it struck him as unnecessarily ostentatious for something so mundane as a shop, but then what did he know of city ways?

  Rhianna soon returned, bearing a silver tray laden with succulent cakes that smelled of sweet honey and roasted cinnamon, and two tall, slender necked flutes filled with shimmering wine. 'Dreamwine?' he asked.

  'Dreamwine.' agreed Rhianna. 'Fermented from the waking dreams of the handmaidens of Avelorn and sung into liquid form by the magic of Everqueen. Be careful though, be sure to only take a small amount at a time.'

  Eldain nodded and lifted the flute from the tray, taking a delicate sniff of the ethereal wine. It seemed to run like liquid smoke in his glass and its bouquet was that of a wild forest of ancient glamours where creatures of legend still roamed free. Rhianna smiled and they both took a small sip of the wine.

  It was sweet, almost unbearably so, and Eldain replaced the flute on the table as he saw visions of fabulous gardens of oak and suntree tended by the ancient treemen of the forest, sun-dappled glades of unicorn and great eagles nesting in the enchanted forest's rolling hills. The image of the shopfront blurred and swam, the green of its landscape becoming incredibly rich in detail, and Eldain had the sensation that he could reach into it. Indeed, he could smell the scent of honeysuckle and jasmine, taste the salt of sea spray and feel the soft wind blowing across the hills on his face.

  Rhianna said, 'It's good, yes?'

  He smiled in contentment and said, 'Yes... it's very good. I can see why you are only supposed to take small sips at a time.'

  The wine also had the effect of reminding him of his hunger and he devoured two honeycakes in quick succession before taking another sip of wine. More prepared for what wonders it might bring, he was nevertheless intoxicated by their splendour.

  He saw beautiful elves with golden skin dancing in leafy bowers, silken pavilions of myriad colours like a great carnival, and darting faeries that lit everything with their silver laughter and sparkling light. Amidst the gaiety, Eldain saw a woman of heartbreaking beauty, with the grace and wisdom of Isha in her eyes, and knew her to be Alarielle, the Everqueen of Avelorn and consort of the Phoenix King. Her flowing hair was like a golden cloud, and graceful birds of purest white attended her as she moved effortlessly through her adoring subjects.

  Tears gathered in his eyes as the face of the Everqueen faded, only to be replaced by that of Rhianna, and he pushed the flute with the rest of his dreamwine away, spilling it across the table where it instantly evaporated like mist.

  'Eldain? What's the matter?' asked Rhianna, reaching out to touch his hand.

  'Nothing,' he said, pulling his arm back. 'This was a mistake.'

  'A mistake?' asked Rhianna. 'What was a mistake?'

  'Coming here,' said Eldain, pushing his chair back. 'It has reopened old wounds that would be better left alone.'

  'No, Eldain, stay. Please,' urged Rhianna. 'We should talk. Wehave to talk.'

  'Why?'

  Startled by the boldness of the question, Rhianna hesitated before saying, 'because there are things that must be said between us before you set sail for Naggaroth.'

  'You know of our journey?'

  Rhianna nodded and said, 'Caelir sent word to my home of the blood oath you swore against the druchii upon your father's coffin. He told me you would be travelling to Lothern and asked me to come.'

  'Caelir asked you to come to Lothern, why? He said nothing to me.'

  'I met with him yesterday morning and...' began Rhianna, extending her hand across the table towards him. He swallowed hard as he saw a silver ring engraved with two entwined hearts shining upon her middle finger. He couldn't believe that he had not noticed it earlier.

  'A pledge ring.' he said. 'Caelir gave you that?'

  'He did.' confirmed Rhianna. 'We have exchanged pledge rings, and upon his return from Naggaroth he will plight his troth to me. I will make the pilgrimage to the Gaean Vale, and we shall be wed in Tor Elyr the following year.'

  'Wed? You will be wed to Caelir?' laughed Eldain, though there was no humour to it.

  'Yes, I love him. I am sorry that I hurt you, but I cannot change what I feel.'

  'You don't love Caelir!' snapped Eldain. 'You are infatuated with him. He saved your life and you feel you ought to fall in love with him. Your heart has been clouded by his charms and his brashness. Listen to your head instead.'

  'Perhaps you are right.' said Rhianna archly, 'but it does not matter now what my head tells me, my heart speaks with a louder voice.'

  Eldain sat back in his chair and felt the bitterness that had festered within him since his father's poisoning, well up within him. He wanted to lash out, to hurt her, to make her feel something of the pain he now felt, but his iron control reasserted itself before he said something he knew he would later regret. He had sacrificed everything, his own happiness and the woman he loved, to protect his domain and his kin, and this was his reward?

  But he could not hurt her... to do so would demean him.

  'I loved you, Rhianna.' he said at last.

  'I know you did, and I will always love you too, Eldain, but I am to be Caelir's upon his return from the land of the druchii.' said Rhianna. 'If things had been different I know you would have been a good husband to me and I a good wife to you, but life often takes turns we do not expect. I am sorry, but please... for my sake, do not hate Caelir for this.'

  Eldain nodded and stood, scattering a handful of coins upon the ta
ble.

  He bowed stiffly to Rhianna and said, 'I love you, and while I live I will love no other.' As he walked away, Rhianna said, 'Eldain, wait...' But he did not turn around.

  V

  NAGGAROTH

  THE NIGHT PRESSED in around them, and though the horses picked a silent path through the tall vines, Eldain felt sure they would be unmasked any second. Sounds of weeping men and women drifted on the cold night air, and slaves left to lie where they had fallen in exhaustion curled in terror as they passed, too brutalised by their captors to tell the difference between high elf and druchii.

  They were elves, and that was enough to send those slaves who could still move crawling into the undergrowth in terror. The stench of the blood grapes was almost intolerable, and Eldain pulled his scarf tighter about his face to block out the acrid aroma.

  As they drew nearer to their goal, Eldain saw occasional druchii corpses lying amid the vines, throats slit by the shadow warriors who ranged ahead of the hundred riders making their way to the docks of Clar Karond. The ride from the trees had been fraught with danger, each passing second bringing them closer to their goal, but also closer to being discovered. But now they were within the concealing vineyards, and Eldain could see through the vines that the entrance to the shipyards was less than a hundred yards away.

  The ground was ravaged, but relatively flat, ground into channels by the passage of countless logs dragged from the hills above Clar Karond and brought within the docks for sawing and shaping. Hundreds of slaves - humans and dwarfs mostly - slept in huddled groups, no fire to warm them or blankets to cover them, and Eldain knew that these pitiful creatures were the key to them getting into the shipyards. Beyond the slaves, an open gateway was set within a timber palisade of sharpened logs with tall, spiked towers to either side.

  Eldain twisted in the saddle to ensure his warriors were ready, that arrows were nocked and swords were bared. He had personally handed each warrior three of the copper coloured arrows, etched with the rune of Saroir, that Rhianna's father had presented them with on the dockside of Lothern the day they had set sail for this accursed land. Vaul's magic was upon them, and he had made sure to impress upon each warrior that these arrows must not be wasted.

  'Are we ready?' asked Caelir, his bow held loosely in his left hand. The longbow was inset with mother-of-pearl, and radiated powerful magic. Eldain recognised it as Rhianna's bow and felt his jaw clench at the sight of it.

  'Yes, we are,' he said.

  'Good luck, brother,' said Caelir and extended his hand.

  Eldain looked down at his brother's palm, the skin rough and scarred where the druchii's red-hot crossbow had burned it, and the silver pledge ring bright in the darkness.

  'And to you too,' he said, taking Caelir's hand.

  Caelir nodded and said, 'Then give the word, brother.'

  Eldain drew his own sword and shouted a command at Lotharin, who leapt from the concealment of the vines and bore his rider towards the shivering slaves. The hundred Ellyrion reavers followed him, screaming at the top of their lungs and riding for the heart of the slave encampment.

  The ground shook with the thunder of hooves as the high elves rode towards the log palisade. Shaken from their nightmares by the noise, the slaves awoke in panic, screaming in terror at the sight of a hundred horsemen bearing down upon them. Some curled into weeping foetal balls, while others ran towards them with arms outstretched, thinking them rescuers.

  But as Eldain had planned, the majority fled in blind terror away from them, towards the gateway of Clar Karond's shipyards. Within moments of their appearance, torch-wielding druchii with whips emerged from behind the walls, demanding to know what in the name of Khaine was going on.

  They died without knowing what danger came their way, the arrows of the shadow warriors piercing their throats or slicing through their eye sockets. More druchii emerged from the shipyards, and Eldain saw that these were the feared druchii corsairs, warrior knights with tall helmets, shrouded in scaled cloaks, who bore long spears and cruelly serrated swords. The mad press of slaves desperate to find shelter beyond the palisade prevented them from mustering a cohesive defence, so they stabbed their spear points through the bodies of slaves as they fought to discover the source of the alarm.

  Eldain loosed a blue-fletched arrow and felled a corsair as a flurry of arrows slashed from the charging Ellyrion reavers. Another volley cut down yet more of the druchii, and then they were amongst them.

  Elven blades rose and fell, killing many druchii in the chaos and panic of the fleeing slaves. Blood and screams filled the night air as confusion spread from the gateway, and the slaves took advantage of their captors' disarray to have their revenge. A rampaging mob of slaves spread rapidly through the shipyards, yelling and toppling whatever they could.

  He heard cries of alarm from druchii who recognised them as high elves, but as each shout was raised, an elven arrow quickly silenced it.

  An alarm bell began chiming. Eldain shouted, 'With me!' and rode swiftly through the mad, swirling melee. The elven riders obeyed his shouted order with a discipline and speed that made him proud as they rode onwards through the screaming slaves. In a sweeping mass, they charged through wide streets lined with huge piles of lumber, long saws and chained axes. Along each thoroughfare were bloody altars to Khaine, headsmans' blocks, and cauldrons brimming with red fluid. Whether wine or blood, Eldain had no wish to know, but each sat beneath the mutilated body of a slave nailed to a crude cross.

  The stench of stagnant, sea air was pungent, and Eldain rode towards the source of the rank odour, guiding Lotharin with his knees while loosing shaft after shaft into any druchii who dared come between him and his goal. Caelir rode alongside him, dropping the warriors of the dark kin with a speed and ease that was astonishing, the magic of the bow he used finding the weakness in every druchii's armour.

  Their course carried them past great, vaulted structures stacked high with timber planks, shaped and treated for use in ships' hulls, and Eldain plucked one of the copper Saroir arrows from his doeskin quiver. He loosed the arrow into the midst of the timber, the head thudding into the heart of the stored planks.

  No sooner had the arrow struck the wood than it erupted into a mass of searing fire, bright orange flames spreading swiftly from the point of impact. Within moments, the entirety of the timber was ablaze, and flames raced through the chamber as thick pillars of black smoke curled skywards.

  'Not a bad wedding present, eh?' shouted Caelir, and Eldain had to admit that the fire enchantment placed upon the magic arrows was powerful indeed.

  Within minutes, the sky was lit with a dreadful orange glow as more of the druchii timber stores went up in flames, years' worth of materials destroyed in moments. A wild exultation gripped Eldain as he shot yet more druchii, but the strategist in him saw that they would not be able to keep this momentum going for much longer. Soon, the druchii would organise themselves, and if he and his warriors were trapped within the shipyards, it would only be a matter of time before they were hunted down and killed.

  The rank odour of the Sea of Malice grew strong in his nostrils, and the cobbled street opened onto a great granite quay laden with crates, barrels and coils of hemp rope. Hundreds of ships at anchor wallowed in the dark waters, their sleek and deadly hulls festooned with jagged blades, icons of Khaine and the rune of the Witch King, Malekith himself.

  Riders galloped out onto the quayside, and Eldain saw that they had not penetrated this far into the shipyards of Clar Karond without loss. A dozen or more steeds were without riders, and many of the warriors who still fought were bloodied. He saw that Caelir was still alive, blood running from a shallow cut on his leg, but otherwise unharmed.

  'Spread out!' yelled Eldain, unslinging an Ellyrion hunting horn from his saddle and holding it high. 'Use the Saroir arrows and burn as many ships as you can. When you hear me blow the signal to retreat get out immediately, no hesitation. We will rally at the top of the ridge where we began this
glorious work! Now go!'

  Whooping and yelling, the Ellyrion reavers spread through the quay, galloping along the warren of jetties and piers that connected the berthed ships. Eldain, Caelir and ten warriors charged along a wide, tar-stained jetty to their left, riding parallel to the bloated, mountainous form of the black ark. Arrows slashed through the night to slay druchii crewmen who peered out over the gunwales, and flames leapt skyward as the high elves made good use of their magic arrows. Eldain knew that, no matter what happened now, their mission to Naggaroth would be seen as a triumph.

  He fired a Saroir arrow into a heavy Reaper ship, laughing in released tension as the arrow exploded with flames and the tarred planks instantly caught light. More and more ships burned as the high elves rampaged through the maze of jetties. Burning Corsairs leapt from their blazing vessels into the water, but Eldain felt no pity, only a thirst to kill more of the evil druchii.

  Ahead, a group of corsairs charged from their doomed ship, bearing long spears and swords. Behind them, a group of druchii crossbowmen lining the gunwale shot a volley of lethal bolts towards them. Eldain cried out as a bolt sliced through the flesh of his bicep, but the wound was not deep and the bolt passed onwards without lodging.

  Six of his warriors were not so lucky and tumbled from their saddles, pierced through by the deadly iron bolts. The druchii shouted something, but Eldain could not hear it over the roar of flames and the thunder of hooves on timber. Another volley slashed out, another three reavers fell, and Eldain felt his fury grow hotter than the flames billowing around him.

  Twin streaks of copper flashed from Caelir's bow, and Eldain saw two of the Saroir arrows slam into the vessel. An enormous explosion of fire mushroomed from the deck of the ship as the magical flames exploded outwards, hurling the crossbowmen through the air and breaking the ship in two. The corsairs were hurled to the ground by the force of the blast, and the high elves gave them no chance to recover their wits, charging home and slaying them without mercy.