Warhammer - The Cold Hand of Betrayal

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

  Since then Lukas had excelled himself, fighting at the side of the other squires in the great battles in the north fought by the order, slaying warriors of Chaos with a skill and zeal that all could see. Now, weeks later, as Lukas crept towards his goal, he could see that Brandaur had been true to his word, and this task would see him right. He would become a full knight of the order. He could feel it.

  Constantin Brandaur and Kriesmann Henckler had met with him that morning in a strangely clandestine meeting held in the private chambers of the grand master himself. The presence of the witch hunter had put him ill at ease for a moment, for Lukas had heard of squires and even knights succumbing to the madness of Chaos, especially since the war in the north. As the meeting had progressed, though, the sense of concern had been replaced with elation - this was Lukas's chance. Henckler the witch hunter had outlined his need for Lukas in his plans, explaining how a vile cult was gnawing at the underbelly of Altdorf and a man of subtlety and skill was needed to bring it to its knees. Henckler had planned for another to complete this errand, but an ill fate had befallen him, and with time running short he had turned to his old friend, Constantin. In turn, the grand master recommended Lukas, who was both brave and cunning enough to complete the task, and in exchange for his cooperation, offered him that which he most wanted: a place within the Order of the Hammer, as a full knight. Lukas reasoned that fate had conspired to give him this rare chance to prove himself before Sigmar and earn the right to stand beside his brother knights.

  The wall of the shop was pitted and dirty, and paint was peeling from the stone in patches. Checking the worn and faded sign hanging from the old shop front, Lukas made sure he was in the correct place, before raising his hand to beat against the door of the dilapidated apothecary's, just as he had been told to do. Three taps fast, then three slow - the correct way to gain the attention of those within. He waited only a moment, his breath clouding around him in the cold air, before the small peephole in the door slid open. A pair of eyes, the left one milky with blindness, glared at him from within before harshly demanding his business.

  'I'm here to see the master.' he answered simply, being sure to keep to the script as he had been told it. The eyes staring at him gave no sign of recognition, and Lukas almost faltered, before continuing. 'I've brought the product.' he said slowly, to avoid mistakes, 'and I have not been followed.'

  The figure behind the door still didn't acknowledge him, just stared at him with open hostility. If it was meant to be intimidating to the young warrior though, the door guard was disappointed; Lukas had spent hours on parade under the gaze of men far better and more imposing than the dishevelled miscreant glaring through the peephole. After what felt like an age, the eyes moved away from the doorway to be replaced with a small wooden hammer of Sigmar, apparently worn and well-used.

  'What make you of this?' asked a gruff voice. 'What of Sigmar's hammer?'

  Lukas felt a small panic rise in his chest as he knew what was required of him. Fighting against the feelings of betrayal and dishonesty that boiled within his breast, he coughed once for effect before spitting directly at the hammer. The spittle splashed across its surface and dribbled down its length to drip onto the ledge of the peephole. Lukas felt his cheeks flush at the sight of what he had done, but steeled himself against it, clenching his fists. With any luck his face was already red from the cold. The hammer was withdrawn and the peephole slid shut with a snap. He could hear the bolts being drawn inside, and moments later the alleyway was flooded with light.

  'In,' said the voice that had spoken before.

  Lukas obeyed, stepping into the light, blinking as his eyes adjusted from the gloom outside. The small room was clearly once an apothecary's just as the sign outside suggested. Wooden counters were littered with broken vials and bottles of green, brown and clear glass.

  As well as the door ward, a scrawny looking fellow of average height with long, greasy black hair, there were three others in the room. Another man, this one of impressive bulk, lurked on the other side of one of the counters, his finger on the trigger of a crossbow, pointed directly at Lukas. The crossbowman had the look of a fighter gone to fat, his muscles sagged and wasted from lack of proper use. The next was a woman, although only a second glance revealed it, her short brown hair was unevenly shaped into a bowl cut and her muscular frame was far from feminine. In her hand was a short sword, and more so than any of the others, she looked fit to use it. Her face was thin and her eyes were sunk deep into her skull, like someone who had gone too long without good sleep. She chewed continually, her eyes never wavering from Lukas as he looked around.

  The fourth figure, and the final one to catch his eye, was a good looking woman, made all the more so by her ugly companions. Her plaited hair was the colour of a newly minted coin, and her smooth, clear skin set her above the others at a glance. A few hot meals and Lukas reasoned she might not look too bad at all. Reluctantly he pulled his eyes away from her; he had no time for such distractions now.

  'Drop your sword.' said the first of the two women, the unfortunate-looking one, motioning at him with her own weapon. Her voice was harsh and her words were clipped and short. 'Do it now, or else.'

  Lukas hesitated only a moment before complying, unbuckling his sword belt and letting it fall gently to the wooden floor with a muffled thud. He stood stock still as they looked him over with unveiled malice.

  'Check him out, Bella.' she commanded. The more attractive of the two women came forward and roughly searched him, her hands sifting through pockets without any pause for thought. She made a show of taking a handful of coins from him and pocketed them with a wink that drew chuckles from her accomplices.

  'That's all he's got.' said the searcher, motioning to the sword before picking it up and stepping away, back behind one of the counters.

  'Come on then, let's not keep him waiting.' said the woman, curling a dirty finger and motioning for Lukas to follow her. And with that she turned on her heel, pulling aside a filthy curtain to reveal a hole roughly smashed into the interior wall that led into a dimly lit passageway. Bella followed her, then the man with the milky eye. The crossbow-armed thug waited till last, motioning for Lukas to walk ahead of him.

  'Got to keep you where I can see you.' he said, patting his crossbow knowingly. 'Any time I want to use this, you're dead.' He chuckled to himself, enjoying his little joke.

  'I doubt that.' answered Lukas, before pressing on into the gloom behind the others, leaving Crossbow-man to bring up the rear.

  Protect the innocent, though it may cost you your life.

  THE GROUP DISAPPEARED down a dimly lit corridor where the occasional candle guttered on the walls, impaled on bent and rusty nails rather than proper holders. The grimy corridor, barely tall enough for Lukas to stand upright, led slowly downwards and eventually into an open sewer. The rank odour assailed his nose and drew bile to his throat. If the others noticed the stench they did not show it though, so Lukas pressed on, choking back the urge to vomit.

  The group continued in the murky gloom for a hundred paces more, before halting. Lukas could hear metal scraping against stone for a moment, and the sound of someone grunting with effort. Then they pressed forwards again, stooping to duck through a hole in the stonework.

  As his eyes adjusted, Lukas realised he was in a large room, the ceiling only just high enough for him to stand upright in. It was barely light enough to see, but despite the darkness, Lukas felt his heart leap to his throat.

  The walls of the room were lined with cages made of rusting bars of thick iron. In all, there were thirty cages, perhaps forty and each one of them was occupied. Lukas stumbled forwards unbidden, his eyes wide, trying to take in the details, but scared to do so.

  Huddled in the first cage he looked in was a bundle of rags, about the size of a large dog. It twitched occasionally, moaning in a soft, mournful voice. Lukas stooped to get a better look, and wished he hadn't. A small child, perhaps a girl, looked up at him from under the
rags that covered her. Her eyes were pools of pain and suffering, her face was plastered with muck and great streaks of snot were gathered under her nose from too much crying. She lay on the cold stone in amongst her own waste, powerless against the iron bars that contained her. In all his life Lukas had never seen such a pitiful sight. He felt fire burning behind his eyes, and blinked hard to extinguish it, moving on to the next cage and the next. One after another they revealed similar horrors. Girls and boys, none older than fifteen or sixteen, in squalid prisons. The sounds of weeping and pleading had got louder since Lukas had begun to pay interest.

  'Help us,' one voice piped up, a boy by the sound of it. 'Please sir, for Sigmar's sake, help us.' Lukas turned away, glaring at Kerr's accomplices.

  'What is the meaning of this?' he barked, feeling his anger rising within him. It felt good, and he let it loose, his body shaking imperceptibly as his fury filled him. 'What the hell is this place?'

  The others, who had been watching him with indifference, now gave him their full attention. The crossbow was pointed at his heart once again.

  'Is there some problem?' asked the man with the milky eye. 'I thought we were all of the same persuasion.' His hand went to the dagger on his belt, although he tried to keep his voice level.

  'What are these children doing here?' Lukas blurted, having to raise his voice to be heard above the pleas for help, which were getting louder and more frequent with each passing moment.

  'They're for the trade.' Bella said, her voice calm and clear. 'That's why they're here. The master trades them for the stuff. You know.' She looked at him, her own eyes wide and imploring.

  'It's disgusting.' said Lukas, his mind reeling, desperately trying to find a way to free these poor children.

  'It's part of the plan. You knew about the plan before you came here, Lukas. Don't get on your high horse now.' Beside her the others bristled, obviously considering taking action against Lukas now that he was creating a scene. Lukas was silent though. Bella had said his name.

  Henckler had told him that he had an agent on the inside, and that, when the time was right, the agent would make themself known to him. With a sinking feeling, he realised that Bella was that agent. He was endangering her as well as himself and the mission.

  'Right.' he said, shrugging and hoping that was an end to it.

  With no more than a nod, they made to leave the room, pushing open a heavy wooden door, studded with bolts and reinforced with strips of iron. In the corridor beyond they passed three hunched figures stalking lithely the other way. They were stunted and small, covered in tattered robes with hoods pulled over their heads to mask their faces. Lukas couldn't help but stare. Each held, in gnarled, malformed hands, great lengths of chain. Their odour was so strong that it overpowered the lingering stench of the sewer. Lukas paused for a moment once they were past, and turned back, looking into the cage room. It was dark and ill lit, but he was sure he saw the hooded figures opening the cage doors. The pleas from within the room rose in volume, until Crossbow-man slammed the door shut.

  Meet your foe face-on, and slay him in Sigmar's name.

  THEY TRAVERSED THE corridors again for perhaps a minute more, Lukas taking the time to gather his thoughts and steel himself against the horrors that he had seen. A deep sense of shame had settled in his guts.

  A piercing scream of pain pulled him from his reverie and back into the damp corridor, standing before yet another doorway. There was a dull whooshing sound and another scream and then silence.

  The woman at the front pushed the door open and stepped inside, followed by Bella and Milky-eye. Lukas followed next, bracing himself against whatever was within. In his wildest imaginings he would never have expected what he saw.

  The chamber was neat and tidy. Work desks sat at right-angles with quills and inks and mountains of parchment on each. Carefully stacked tools sat on benches, with tubes, coils and all manner of devices used by the engineers of the Empire. Lukas absorbed all of this in an instant, turning his gaze on the wild-eyed figure holding a handgun.

  Or what looked like one. It was longer than any arquebus he had seen, longer even than a Hochland long-rifle and wider too. It had pipes and coils protruding from it at various points along it, several of them leading from it to an enormous metal contraption a few feet away. Like a boiler in a steam baths, or a vast oven in a bakery, it consisted of a series of furnaces and huge copper globes, each with a small dial attached to it. A series of levers was at one end, extending from a large iron box, and the whole thing was a maze of trembling pipes and riveted metal. It was vast and complicated. Whatever else Garramond Kerr was, there was no doubt he was a genius.

  Kerr held the gun in shaking hands, elated. He matched the description Henckler had given Lukas perfectly: tall and thin, with grey hair and a bushy moustache. He wore a thick leather apron and sturdy leather gloves to protect him, probably from the weapon he held, the barrel of which hissed and steamed, dripping a thick viscous liquid to bubble and spit on the stone floor.

  His target had been a bound figure tied to a stake against the opposite wall. The figure, now dead, steamed and dissolved before Lukas's eyes. Even the bones of his body were eaten away and the rock wall behind him showed signs of disintegration too. Lukas shuddered as he realised that another victim was bound and gagged beside the first. The figure wore plates of steel, looted from the Imperial army by the look of them, more armour than a common footman ever wore. With a sinking feeling, Lukas realised that some of the bubbling liquid pooling at the feet of the first victim had been armour just like it. His mind shuddered at the devastation a weapon like that could wreak on armoured knights.

  As Lukas recoiled inwardly, Kerr discussed something animatedly with the hooded figure beside him. Just like the hooded figures from the cage room, this creature was hunched and small. This one, however, was clearly inhuman. A hairy pink tail protruded from beneath the hem of its filthy robes, and a dirty, pox-marked nose extended from it's hood. A ratman. Lukas's master had told him of them. Vile servants of Chaos, a cancer on the Empire. Enemies of Sigmar.

  The ratman and Kerr gesticulated wildly at the next waiting victim, who shuddered in terror, struggling against his restraints.

  'Works, it does.' the rat creature shrieked, pointing at the smouldering mush to make his point. 'Pay now. Pay now, man thing.' Its voice was high-pitched, and sounded strange coming from a creature that was not a human. The sound of it made Lukas feel sick. Kerr seemed to be deflecting whatever payment was demanded, for he offered to demonstrate the weapon again enthusiastically, the strain of the situation evident in his eyes. 'Pay now.' reinforced the ratman one more time.

  This time, a shadow detached itself from the corner of the room - another ratman, this one clad in black, its weapon bared and menacing. Its inhuman features were undisguised like the first. It only came to Lukas's chest in height, but it exuded an aura of danger unlike anyone else in the room.

  Backed into a corner, Kerr turned to Lukas and the others who had just entered the room.

  'Do you have the product?' he asked, his voice shaking and unsure. His eyes scanned the group, before settling on Lukas. 'Do you have the warpstone?'

  'Yes.' Lukas answered stepping forward, brandishing the small wooden box. 'Yes, sir.'

  'Good, good boy. Bring it here then.' he enthused, apparently greatly relieved.

  Lukas stepped forward, flanked by Milky-eyed-man. As he approached, his mind reeled, looking for a way to recover his weapon from Bella.

  'Give me box, man thing.' the lead ratman demanded, its gnarled claws outstretched. 'Now.'

  Lukas smiled thinly, and unclasped the box for the first time, opened the lid and revealed the dully glowing green stones within. Warpstone. The eyes of the rat, murky black orbs, stared hungrily at the box's contents. With a twitch it stepped forward, grasping for it, but Lukas slammed it shut with a snap.

  Dropping the small wooden container, Lukas reached down across to Milky-eye and gripped the dag
ger sheathed at his waist. It was about a foot and a half long and razor sharp, and as Lukas drew it from the sheath he shoved the man hard, causing him to stumble and fall away. Turning back to the ratman, he saw its eyes widen in disbelief as he rammed the knife hard at its throat. Lukas acted so fast that the creature had no time to act and the blade pierced its throat to the hilt. Blood bubbled to the surface instantly, and the ratman gurgled, spitting crimson.

  As swiftly as he had struck, he drew the blade out again in a fountain of gore, spinning on his heel to face the other ratman, which in turn was lashing out at him, its own wicked dagger raised high. Its attack was cut short by a burst of intense green light that severed it at the waist and blasted one of the work benches apart. Kerr was screaming and ranting, and had fired in his panic. The second ratman fell smouldering to the floor in two halves. The smell of sulphur and burning flesh filled the room.

  Not giving the mad engineer a chance to fire again, Lukas attacked him instead, swinging the dagger upwards. Hatred drove Lukas on and the dagger came up, slashing through two of the coils running from the gun and up into Kerr's hand. The engineer shrieked in pain and horror as three of his fingers were severed. Involuntarily, he dropped the gun and fell in a mewling heap on the floor, cradling his hand as blood pumped steadily from the stumps where his fingers had been.