Warhammer - The Cold Hand of Betrayal

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

  Eldain and Caelir rode amidst the corsairs, their swords flashing in the firelight as they killed the druchii. Caelir's face was lit with savage joy as he fought, and Eldain had a fleeting vision of his brother atop a great white, wearing theIthiltaen of the Silver Helms.

  A druchii Corsair stabbed up at him, and Eldain desperately twisted his steed around, but the spear penetrated his thigh and he screamed in pain as blood streamed down his leg. He fought to turn and bring his sword to bear, but the howling druchii was quicker and the spear lanced towards his heart.

  A slashing sword split the spear apart in a shower of splinters, and Caelir's reverse stroke beheaded the Corsair as he rode between Eldain and his attacker.

  'Come on, brother!' shouted Caelir, turning his steed and riding further out along the wide jetty. 'This way! Hurry!'

  Eldain watched as blood fountained from the druchii's neck and the corpse toppled from the jetty into the water. His breath came in great, sucking lungfuls as he realised how close he had come to death. They had pushed their luck far enough, hundreds of ships were ablaze, and even though his warriors had surely loosed every one of the Saroir arrows, the wind was certain to fan the flames to those vessels that had thus far escaped.

  Yes, it was time to go.

  Eldain lifted the hunting horn from his saddle and blew three rising notes followed by one low, mournful one, the eerie sound carrying all across the harbour - even over the roar of flames, the crack of splitting timbers and the screams of the dying.

  Even now, his warriors would be retreating and making their way back to safety.

  'My lord?' shouted the last of his warriors over the din. 'Your brother!'

  'I know.' returned Eldain. 'I will get him, you get out of here! Now!'

  The warrior hesitated, torn between obeying his lord's order and his duty to protect him. Eldain saw his dilemma and said, 'You do me proud with your devotion, but I would be a poor master indeed if I let my warriors die thanks to my brother's foolishness. Now go!'

  The reaver nodded and turned his horse, galloping hard for the quayside. Eldain turned and with a yell, rode after Caelir. He heard iron bolts whipping past him and glanced up to see crossbowmen lining the turrets and crags of the black ark. At such range, it was doubtful they could hit him, but such were their numbers that it would only take one lucky bolt to fell him or his horse. What in the name of Isha had driven Caelir to ride onwards? Had the spirit of Loec seized him with wild abandon?

  Through the glow of the firelight, he saw Caelir ahead, battling a knot of druchii warriors in the shadow of one of the giant repeater bolt throwers. Enemy warriors pressed in around him, but Caelir fought like Tyrion himself, his sword stabbing and slashing amongst the druchii like quicksilver. The combat was over before Eldain reached his brother and shouted, 'What are you doing? Didn't you hear the signal to retreat?'

  Caelir nodded, too out of breath to reply, and swiftly vaulted from the back of his horse.

  'What are you doing?' repeated Eldain as more bolts from the crew of the black ark thudded into the timber of the jetty.

  Caelir shouted, 'Come on, help me with this!' as he swung the massive bolt thrower around on greased runners to face the black ark. Many times larger than the Eagle's Claw bolt throwers employed by the armies of the Phoenix King, this monstrous weapon was designed for punching holes below the waterline of enemy ships.

  'You have got to be joking.' said Eldain. 'That won't even scratch the side of a black ark!'

  'I'm not aiming for the black ark!' shouted Caelir as he pulled the firing handle and a thick iron bolt, longer than three bowstaves, flashed through the air. Eldain watched as the bolt flew towards... not the ark, but the head of the great beast tethered by the massive chains to its front!

  The bolt hammered into the great dragon's head, burying itself completely in its flesh. Purple flickers of magical light erupted around it as the powerful enchantments keeping it placid fought to contain the monster's agony. The Ark shook with the beast's pain, and its head rose from the water slightly, exposing a fiery red eye and terrifying fangs longer than a knight's lance. Heavy waves rocked the jetty as the massive form of the ark shifted in the water, and giant breakers foamed at its base as the beasts kept chained in its depths were unleashed. Eldain saw spined and sinuous forms slicing through the churning waters towards them and turned to face his brother, who struggled to load another bolt onto the firing runners.

  'Come on!' shouted Caelir. 'Help me!'

  Despite his better judgement, Eldain leapt from the saddle, crying out in pain as he landed on his wounded leg, and limped towards Caelir. Together they heaved the bolt into position and began furiously cranking the windlass mechanism.

  'This is madness!' yelled Eldain.

  'You're probably right!' answered Caelir. 'Do you have any Saroir arrows left?'

  'Just one.'

  Tie it to the shaft of the bolt.'

  'What?'

  'Do it! Hurry!' shouted Caelir, as the firing mechanism clicked home and the weapon was ready to fire. Swiftly, Eldain pulled out his last magical arrow and snapped the bowstring from his longbow. He clambered onto the giant bolt thrower's curving front section and lashed the copper arrow to the jagged iron head of the bolt.

  'Ready?' shouted Caelir.

  'Done!' answered Eldain, leaping to the jetty as his brother fired the machine once more.

  'Now let's get out of here.' cried Caelir, vaulting onto the back of his horse. Eldain followed suit, watching as the bolt streaked straight and true into the eye of the mighty sea dragon. The baleful red light was snuffed out and an explosion of purple light flared in the fire-lit darkness as the beast's agonies overcame the placating magic. Flames sheeted upwards from the dragon's head as the Saroir arrow ignited and seared a burning path through the beast's skull and into its brain.

  The two brothers rode like the wind as the ark rocked in the water and huge swells broke across the bay. Splintering wood erupted behind them as the beasts unleashed from the ark smashed into the jetty, hungry for blood.

  Eldain glanced behind him to see a monstrous sea creature with jaws the size of an eagle's wingspan tearing up the jetty towards them. Tarred planks flew in all directions, splintered and snapped by its weight and bulk. The great sea dragon's bellows of pain were deafening, and Eldain heard a tremendous groaning as its convulsions tore the black ark free of its moorings. Bolts hammered down around them as those druchii who still remained in the harbour sought to exact some last revenge against their attackers.

  Caelir whooped and shrieked ahead of him, the adrenalin rush of what they had just done inuring him to the fear of what might yet befall them. The monster behind them drew ever closer, huge waves of water drenching them as the sea dragon's death throes rocked the waters of the bay with the force of an earthquake.

  Ahead, Eldain saw Caelir reach the granite of the quayside. He heard the crack of wood from behind him and felt the rank breath of the monster from the deep on his neck.

  'Jump!' shouted Caelir, and Eldain dug his heels hard into Lotharin's flanks.

  The black stallion leapt towards the quayside as the sea monster's jaws slammed shut on the last of the jetty, smashing it to shards. Lotharin landed on the solid quay as the great beast slammed into it beneath the water, and Eldain let out a great, shuddering breath as his steed skidded to a halt.

  A massive, groaning crack of splitting stone made both brothers look up in time to see the incredible sight of the black ark toppling into the bay, its mighty towers brought low, and hundreds of druchii falling to their deaths as the dying sea dragon thrashed in its chains. The monstrous floating fortress broke apart as it hit the water and a great tidal wave of black foam surged towards the shore of the bay.

  The brothers turned their steeds and galloped back the way they had come, fighting their way through the shocked druchii towards their escape. Past blazing timber stores and ruined piles of blackened lumber, spears stabbed for them and repeater crossbow bolts sla
shed through the air, but their speed carried them past most of their attackers without a fight.

  Eldain slashed his sword through the arm of a Corsair guarding the gateway and hacked down another before riding clear. He stole a glance over his shoulder to see his brother slay a pair of druchii who sought to hamstring his horse. Caelir killed them both, but he had been slowed enough for other druchii to take aim with their crossbows, and a hail of bolts slashed towards him.

  One pierced his hip and pitched him from his horse, while others hammered into his steed's chest and flanks. The horse collapsed, blood frothing from its mouth and its legs thrashing in agony.

  Caelir picked himself up and ran as fast as he could towards the gateway. More bolts flashed through the air, another burying itself in his shoulder. He stumbled, but kept running.

  'Brother!' he yelled, holding out his hand towards Eldain.

  Eldain watched Caelir run, silhouetted in the firelight from the blazing wreckage of Clar Karond, and his vision narrowed as he focussed on Caelir's outstretched hand.

  He saw the callused burns of his brother's wounded hand, Rhianna's silver pledge ring shining brightly in the flames.

  Eldain said, 'Goodbye, Caelir.' He turned his horse towards the hills and rode away.

  He did not look back, but pushed his steed hard through the vineyards towards the survivors of the attack. He heard shouts and screams and the clash of blades behind him, but paid them no heed as he galloped onwards.

  As he crested the rise and entered the dark forest, he rode for some minutes before reaching his warriors. Bloody and exhausted, they were nevertheless magnificent, and he felt a strange freedom in his soul as he thought of all that had been achieved this night.

  'My lord?' asked the leader of the shadow warriors. 'Where is Caelir?'

  'He is dead,' replied Eldain sadly.

  'Dead? Isha'smercy, no!'

  'The druchii killed him.' said Eldain. 'He fought bravely, but there was nothing I could do to save him.'

  'Our swords are yours!' promised the shadow warrior. 'We will avenge him!'

  Eldain could see the same resolve in the face of every one of his warriors and said, 'We have won a great victory here, but we must return to our homeland now. The druchii will not remain in disarray for long and we have many days travel ahead of us before we may count ourselves safe. My brotherwill be avenged, but not this day.'

  He turned his horse towards home and shouted, 'We ride for Ulthuan!'

  VI

  ULTHUAN - One Month Ago

  THE OMENS WERE good, thought Eldain as the ships pulled smoothly away from the Lothern quayside towards the Sapphire Gate. The morning sun was bright and a fair wind ruffled the white sails of the Eagle ships. Caelir stood at the vessel's stern, waving to Rhianna, who stood on the dockside beside her father, a tall, powerful elf in the swirling robes of an archmage.

  The holds of each ship were laden with horses and supplies - food, grain, water and weapons, all that was necessary for an expedition to Naggaroth. Wrapped in oiled leather was a crate sealed with mystical wards, that had come from Rhianna's father, in which there were three hundred magical arrows. A sheepish Caelir had told him that they were an early wedding gift from Rhianna's father, and though it left the bitter taste of ashes in his throat to have such a reminder of her affection for his brother, Eldain knew that they would be invaluable.

  The ships passed through the shadow of the mighty statues of the Phoenix King and the Everqueen as the Sapphire Gate at the mouth of the lagoon began to open. A gate of shining silver, set with sapphires the size of a man's head, a glittering edifice that smoothly drew wider to allow their small fleet to pass through.

  Beyond the Sapphire gate, an elven pilot vessel waited to guide their ships through the magically shifting sandbanks that protected the Straits of Lothern from attackers.

  Eldain made his way to the vessel's prow and felt a shiver of anticipation as the gate behind them closed and they found themselves in a wide channel between sheer cliffs of white. Castles equipped with repeater bolt throwers, ramparts and seaward defences manned by ithilmar armoured warriors of the sea guard protected the Straits of Lothern, and Eldain knew almost nothing could penetrate these defences.

  Eventually, the channel narrowed until they reached the great fortified arch that was the Emerald Gate, foremost of the great sea gates that guarded Lothern. Two vast valves of carved bronze studded with great emeralds were set into the cliffs and, as the pilot guided them towards the gate, it swung open on mighty hinges to grant them passage to the open ocean.

  The ships passed onwards, the great gate shutting soundlessly behind them as Eldain had his first sight of the Glittering Tower.

  Rearing up from the sea atop a rocky isle in the mouth of the bay, the Glittering Tower was a great lighthouse filled with thousands of lamps that could never be extinguished. Mighty fortifications clustered at its base, each bastion equipped with scores of bolt throwers and hundreds of sea guard warriors.

  Caelir joined him at the prow and said, 'It is magnificent.'

  'Yes.' agreed Eldain. 'It truly is.'

  'Eldain...' said Caelir hesitantly. 'I just wanted to say, well, that I am sorry I didn't tell you about Rhianna. I meant to say something to you sooner, I really did.'

  'It doesn't matter anymore, little brother.'

  'It doesn't?' asked Caelir, the relief plain in his voice.

  Eldain shook his head. 'No. It doesn't.'

  Caelir let out a nervous laugh and leaned out over the vessel's side as the Glittering Tower receded into the distance and the wind filled the sails of the ship. The two brothers watched in silence as it vanished over the horizon and Caelir eventually said, 'I wonder if I will ever see Ulthuan again?'

  'What do you mean?'

  Caelir didn't answer for a moment, as though weighing up whether or not he should speak, but eventually he said, 'I have been having evil dreams of late, brother.'

  'What kind of dreams?' asked Eldain.

  'When I wake I do not remember the substance of them, but in each of them I hear the wail of Morai-heg.'

  'The Keeper of Souls.' said Eldain.

  Caelir nodded. 'I hear her banshees wailing in my dreams and I fear she holds my fate in her withered palm. I am afraid she has decided that it is my time to die.'

  'They are just dreams, Caelir.'

  'Maybe so, Eldain, but I fear them. I fear what they might mean for me in Naggaroth.'

  Eldain was about to reply, but Caelir was not yet finished. 'I want you to promise me something, Eldain.'

  'What would you have me promise?' he asked.

  'If... if I do not return from Naggaroth, promise me that you will take care of Rhianna.'

  'Rhianna?' asked Eldain, genuinely surprised.

  'Yes.' said Caelir, 'I know she still cares for you, so if I die, promise me you will take care of her.'

  Eldain smiled and said, 'Of course I will, brother. You can count on me.'

  SMALL MERCY

  by Richard Ford

  THE AROMA OF sour ale hung thick in the oppressive confines of the border inn. The door was closed against the chill autumn wind and a sputtering fire struggled for life in one murky corner. A bright midday sun shone through the grime-stained windows, framing the patrons as they nursed their tankards. A ragged urchin played between their legs; the only source of any sound. For the most part he was ignored, though he would receive the occasional scolding glance if his reverie became too high-pitched.

  Swinging his crooked, wooden 'sword' wildly the lad sped around the inn, his bare feet clapping against the uneven boards as he pursued his foes, shouting curses and black oaths as they fled.

  With an ear-splitting crack that disrupted the room's muted atmosphere, the inn door burst open. All at once the boy's game was over as a battered body was flung into the inn, heralded by a snow-whipped gust of air. The pulped figure hit the wooden floor with a moist thud, like a drum being struck with a damp rag. He lay there unmoving, h
is face a matted mass of beard and clotting crimson, leaking his juices onto the filth-encrusted floorboards. Rusty chains bound his wrists and their reddened appearance suggested that he had been dragged for many miles.

  Two bearded men stepped into the inn behind him, wrapped in wolfskin and leather. One of them grabbed the battered body by the hair and dragged it towards the centre of the inn. The second hirsute figure approached the bar.

  'You can't bring that in here,' shouted the innkeeper, Boris. The boy had never seen him sound so panicked before.

  'Keep your hair on, barkeep. There are no other Kurgan for a hundred leagues. We caught this one scouting a village further west but they wouldn't pay the bounty. All we want is a meal and a drink and we'll be gone.'

  Boris frowned, considered their tale and then gave a reluctant shrug. The bounty hunter turned to his companion and nodded. Quickly he tied a rope to the rusted manacles and flung it over the inn's low rafters, hoisting the body up. There was a harsh creak as the rafters strained against the weight of the sinewy body.

  Some of the inn's patrons dared to creep a little closer as the bounty hunter tied the rope off against the footrail of the bar. The urchin could only stand and stare, having never seen a real corpse before.

  As the braver patrons crept forward, there was a sudden expulsion of air, like a thin breeze creeping beneath the jamb of a door. One eye flickered open on the corpse's face, a bright blue orb against a red mass of hair and gore. The gathering crowd forgot their bravery and stumbled backwards, cries of alarm echoing through the fusty room. Amidst them all, the boy stood, transfixed by the piercing eye. It locked on him, holding him in its grip.

  'He's still alive,' shouted Boris. 'Are you mad?'

  'The elector counts pay twice as much for live captives. Who knows what information he has? He wouldn't tell us a thing.' the bounty hunter glanced over at the broken figure strung from the rafter, 'but the torturers of Ostermark have methods all their own...'