The throne was obscured by wide palm fronds, yellowing and ragged with age, held by two mummified women, who were clad in thin robes and gilded death masks, and who wore headdresses of saurian hide and torcs in the shape of coiled serpents.
Djubti led them into the queue that had formed before the dais, where representatives from other powers and principalities waited, with demands and requests for the Serpent Queen. Though whether she was listening or not was up for debate, as the palm fronds never moved and the queen had yet to reveal herself.
A gaudily dressed skeleton stepped forwards at a curt gesture from one of the guards. He was clad in silks and furs, with a headdress made from faded and drooping feathers, and wore more gold than the pirate Red Hand was said to have buried. It hissed, ‘King Ushtep, Mighty Falcon of Rasetra, Settra’s Strong Hand in the South, Master of the Fortress of Vengeful Souls, High King of the Sweltering Jungles, Champion of the Charnel Valley, Prince of All Princes and King Among Kings does request that High Queen Khalida, Queen of Lybaras, set low her standards and move forth her legions from the foothills of Mount Arachnos and enter into battle with his enemy, Imanotep of Mahrak.’ He extended a ragged scroll, which had turned brown and fragile with age, to the guard, who took it and passed it up to the handmaidens. The latter passed it behind the fronds.
‘She who is Lybaras, Mistress of the Serpent Legion and Sentinel of the Bitter Sea, recognises and will consider the proposal of her brother-king,’ the guard said, jawbone clicking. ‘Next!’
As they approached, Djubti struck the floor with his staff and said, ‘Bow, pilgrims, bow before the Wisdom of Asaph made flesh, the Voice of the Vengeful, the Lioness of the Hills, She Whose Legions Blot Out the Sun With Their Arrows, High Queen Khalida, Guardian of Damned Lahmia, the Watchful Soul and the Serpent Queen.’ Every title recitation was punctuated by a thud of the staff and the ring of the metal cap on the butt striking the golden tile.
‘Let her be revealed.’ He turned towards them. ‘Kneel, so that you might bask in her radiance.’ Zabbai sank to one knee, as did every other Nehekharan. Only Gotrek and Felix remained standing.
Seeing Djubti glaring at them, Felix hurriedly dropped down. ‘Gotrek,’ he hissed, ‘kneel!’ As he bent forwards, he again caught a flicker of movement, like a shadow slashed loose of its host. It darted behind the crowd of representatives and hugged the wall, sliding and slithering around and beneath the beams of sunlight. A bird, he thought, a gull perhaps.
He thought of the colourful bird he’d seen on the balcony earlier. Perhaps it was roosting in one of the sunlight shafts, and its shadow was being cast down by the reflecting plates.
‘Dwarfs do not kneel, manling,’ Gotrek said, ‘especially Slayers.’
Felix forgot about the bird as the Slayer spoke. The guards on the dais shifted as the Slayer’s words echoed through the chamber. Gotrek eyed them without concern. The crowd of representatives began to rattle and whisper, perturbed by the dwarf’s lack of respect.
Djubti quivered with rage, his fleshless jaws snapping as he thumped the floor repeatedly. ‘Kneel, Son of Stone! Kneel, Stubborn Bastion of the Ancient Days!’
Gotrek frowned and crossed his arms. ‘When I kneel, you withered stick, it’ll only be because I’m missing a leg.’ Felix rested his face in his palm. He heard the rasp of bone on gauze, and knew that the guards were likely moving towards the Slayer.
Zabbai made to stand, but before she could, a voice, at once soft and insistent, said, ‘Be calm, Djubti. If he does not wish to bow, no invective will change his mind.’ The palm fronds were pulled aside, revealing the throne. It was not the sort of kingly seat that Felix was familiar with, rather it was a simple bench with smooth armrests. The skin of a giant serpent covered it, and over that the hide of some great cat, and upon the latter reclined a lithe, elegant form. She had a long staff across her knees, and an ornate headdress covered her head. Her face was hidden behind a smooth mask, lightly engraved with shallow, serpentine designs.
High Queen Khalida’s linen-wrapped limbs were encased in bejewelled bands, and she wore a cuirass of beaten gold. In life she had been beautiful, but in death her beauty had been transformed into something at once greater and more horrifying. Felix fancied that her form was not as wasted as those of her servants, as if some higher power had preserved her flesh and muscle from the ravages of time. She gestured towards Gotrek in languid fashion. ‘Yes, you are even as Asaph whispered to me in my slumber. Your thorny hide bristles with broken ghosts, dwarf. You have sent armies to Usirian’s bower, by your axe and action alike. You are beloved and despised by your gods, even as we are, and you persist, though the sands of history would bury you. I bid thee welcome, Doom-Seeker, to Lybaras, and may you find that which you seek in our service.’
Gotrek stiffened. He opened his mouth to reply. Then, with a growl, he lifted his axe and, before Felix could even attempt to stop him, the Slayer sprang for Khalida’s throat. The guards moved to block the Slayer’s path, but they were too slow to stop him. Gotrek brushed the swiftest aside with the sheer force of his charge. As he bounded up the dais, he flung his axe with a guttural roar. Khalida jerked aside as the axe hurtled past and struck its target.
The dark shape that had been falling towards the High Queen gave a wild scream as the axe caught it full in the centre of its mass. It crashed heavily to the dais and rolled down the steps, spitting and hissing as foul-smelling steam billowed from where the axe had chopped into it. The dark shape uncoiled and tore Gotrek’s axe from its midsection. With a roar, it sent the weapon spinning back towards the Slayer. Gotrek caught the weapon easily and ran his finger across the blade. He popped the bloody digit into his mouth and then spat. ‘Vampire,’ he snarled.
Felix stared in shock at the would-be assassin. It was clearly a woman, wrapped in dark robes and wearing leather armour that had been dyed a dull black hue. Gotrek’s axe had bitten into her belly, and the robes had been torn away, exposing pallid flesh. The raw edges of the wound were already knitting together, despite the steam that rose from them and the turgid splatter of blood that marked her stomach and the steps at her feet.
The vampire drew a scimitar from a sheath on her back and a saw-edged dagger from her hip as the guards closed in on her. She flipped over the first to reach her, using his back as a springboard to launch herself at the next. Her scimitar flashed out in a quicksilver blur, removing the guard’s skull from his neck in a spray of bone-chips and dust. The assassin was as different from the ragged horrors Felix and Gotrek had faced in the Mangrove Port as a panther from an alley cat. She moved too fast for Felix’s eye to follow, avoiding the guards’ blows with ease and doling out disabling hammer-strikes in return.
‘Herald, do your duty – protect the queen,’ Djubti shrieked. Zabbai was already moving, and Felix, without thinking, joined her rush towards the dais. But even as he ran his thoughts were an ocean away, and filled with a pale face and hair so blonde as to be almost white – Ulrika Magdova. It was not she who slid, parried and slashed before him; this creature, whoever she had been in life, had been no Kislevite, dark as she was, but the similarity was there. He could not help but wonder where Ulrika was now, and whether the Countess had kept her promise.
Then, there was no more time for thinking.
Some instinct, trained to utmost sensitivity by the constant flow of danger that surrounded Gotrek, blared a warning, and as he ran, he jerked to the side, fell and rolled painfully across the steps of the dais. An odd, wavy-bladed spear slammed down, piercing the stone with a crunch. A second black-clad shape balanced on the quivering length of the spear, like a Tilean acrobat he’d seen once at a carnival. The shape unfolded and swung off the spear, jerking it free of the step in the process.
Behind her, he saw a third assassin, bearing a sword that might once have belonged to a knight from one of the many orders that dotted the Empire, charge up the stairs towards Khalida, who had not moved. Felix sucked in a breath and bellowed, ‘Gotrek, Zabbai – ther
e are more of them!’ A moment later, the spear slid past his head, nicking his ear and drawing blood. He grabbed the haft and shoved it away. He drew his dagger and sent it spinning towards his attacker. The vampire easily avoided it and drew back her spear with a peculiar circular motion, striking his shoulder with the flat and knocking him sprawling. He scurried up the stairs on all fours, hoping to put some distance between himself and his opponent.
The vampire followed, her dark robes billowing as she moved. She stabbed the spear down between his legs and used the momentum to vault over his head, landing directly in his path. Her foot streaked out, catching him in the chest, and Felix was sent flying. He hit the floor hard and skidded away from the dais. As he tried to sit up, he saw her twirl the spear in a wide arc, knocking aside those representatives of the other tomb-cities who moved to intercept her. Zabbai lunged towards her from behind, and the vampire spun. Axe met spear and they began to trade blows furiously. The scimitar-armed vampire duelled Gotrek on the other side of the dais. As far as Felix could tell, she was doing an admirable job of not dying when Gotrek wanted her to. His axe hummed as it swept out, and she back-flipped away from the blow with predatory grace. That left the third of the assassins, who, Felix saw, had reached the top of the dais and the throne where Khalida still reclined, as if watching a play performed for her amusement.
The vampire held her blade in both hands, point extended out before her for a piercing thrust. Like the others, she wore a hood and a scarf that covered everything but her face, and her thick robes protected her from the web of sunbeams that spread throughout the chamber. ‘The Serpent Queen bids you greetings, Khalida Neferher,’ the vampire snarled as she approached the throne. ‘She comes for you and this city of carrion and dried marrow, and she shall cast both you and it down and grind you beneath her heel, before taking back that which was stolen from us.’ With that, the vampire gave a savage thrust of her blade.
Khalida, with an almost gentle gesture, swatted the blow aside with the staff that had been lying across her lap. Such was the force of the blow that the sword was torn from the vampire’s grip and was sent sailing across the chamber to embed itself in one of the pillars. The vampire backed away, resolve fading into fear as Khalida stood.
‘Serpent Queen, is it?’ Khalida said, softly. ‘Is that what she calls herself now?’
She cocked her head. ‘No, no, she would never send assassins. It is too bold, and too crude. Your mistress is no true queen. She is but a servant, a dagger, thrust from within a concealing veil to draw my eye.’ The vampire stumbled back as Khalida pursued her. ‘But even a feint must be blocked, lest it draw blood.’ She paused, as if considering; then, with all the speed of a snake, she spun her staff about and rammed the end through the vampire’s chest, piercing her heart and lifting her into the air. The vampire squalled in agony and clawed at the staff. Khalida reached up and tore the vampire’s hood and scarf away, exposing the creature’s head and shoulders to the bright sunlight.
‘Burn,’ she said, simply. Then with no sign of effort, she thrust her staff, and the writhing vampire impaled upon it, into the sunlight. The vampire’s squalls became shrieks as her dusky flesh turned black and began to smoke and curl from her bones. The other two assassins broke away from their opponents and raced towards Khalida, though whether they intended to rescue their companion or simply complete her mission, Felix couldn’t say. Nor did he intend to wait and find out. Felix pelted towards the dais, and drew Karaghul as he ran.
Khalida swept her staff out, scattering the charred remains of the dead assassin through the air as she blocked a scimitar blow. The staff spun in her hands as she drove its head into the belly of the spear-wielding vampire, sending her staggering back. With a roar, Gotrek hurled himself on his unheeding opponent, one meaty paw clamping tight around the vampire’s throat. He bore her down. His axe rose, and fell with finality. Her head bounced down the stairs, a look of incredulity stamped on her features.
The remaining assassin barely had time to recognise her predicament when Zabbai lunged for her, axe singing through the air. The vampire hopped back with a hiss right onto Felix‘s out-thrust blade, which took her in the back. Felix forced the blade deeper, and the vampire shrieked and dropped her spear. Zabbai’s axe looped out and took her head, sending it spinning towards a pillar, where it rebounded into a shaft of sunlight and began to smoulder. Felix jerked Karaghul free and stepped aside as the body rolled down the steps. Zabbai nodded brusquely to him.
‘I thought those statues outside or those snake-things were supposed to keep people from getting in,’ he said, cleaning his sword with the edge of his cloak.
‘Only if the queen wishes it,’ Zabbai said. Felix caught on quickly.
‘She let them in?’
‘She always does,’ Zabbai said. From her tone, it was clear she disapproved.
‘Is this a common occurrence?’
‘Yes,’ Zabbai said, ‘especially of late. Our queen guards places of infamy, and there are many who wish to lay claim to the secrets within those places. Vampires, ratmen and black-armoured northmen have all tried to kill her, or destroy Lybaras to get at what we protect. None have succeeded.’
‘None will ever succeed,’ Khalida said. Felix looked up and saw that the queen had returned to her throne, where she sat at ease. She looked down at Gotrek. ‘My thanks, Doom-Seeker,’ she said. He met her gaze and nodded gruffly.
‘What did you mean before, about Gotrek finding what he sought,’ Felix asked, adding, ‘ah – your majesty?’
‘There have been portents and signs,’ Djubti said. The liche-priest still stood where he’d been when the assassins attacked. He’d made no move to defend Khalida, and Felix wondered how often he’d seen such a scene play out in these chambers. ‘A twin-tailed scorpion struggled with a skeletal python upon a pile of bone. The wind carries the scent of purification from the south, and the bound dead dance in the moonlight. Your coming was whispered by the gods of the underworld and Asaph herself, who spoke of a force whose tread would shake the Great Land, and shatter the empire of the Serpent Queen.’
Felix felt a chill slither the length of his spine, as Djubti spoke. He clutched Karaghul more tightly and glanced around, looking for the closest exit. He paused when he realized that Khalida was gazing directly at him.
‘Be at ease, barbarian. Though I am a queen of serpents, I have no empire. Nor would I want one.’ She gestured to the remains of one of the would-be assassins. ‘But there is another who lays claim to the title of “Serpent Queen”. And she does have an empire, though it is a small one, and petty by any civilized standard. An empire which stretches from coast to coast, from sunrise to sunset and which even now mobilizes for war.’
‘Speak plainly,’ Gotrek said, suddenly. He motioned around him with his axe. ‘You had us brought here, woman. You say your portents demanded it? Fine, I care not.’ He pointed his axe at Khalida. ‘What do you want?’
‘I want you to perform a service for me,’ Khalida said. Felix couldn’t tell whether she was amused or insulted by Gotrek’s boorish behaviour. ‘There is an item I wish you to reclaim.’
‘Item,’ Gotrek repeated.
‘A sword,’ Khalida said. ‘A simple sword.’
‘That’s all? Why is it important, this sword?’ Gotrek said.
‘That is none of your concern, Child of the Mountains,’ Djubti said. He struck the floor with his staff. ‘It is enough that you have been commanded.’
‘No one commands me,’ Gotrek snarled, as he whirled to glare at the priest.
‘Nor would I attempt it,’ Khalida interjected. Gotrek glanced at her warily. ‘I offer you a bargain instead, Doom-Seeker. What I require lies in the heart of my enemy’s lands. It is surrounded by an army the size of which dwarfs even that of Settra the Imperishable. To get to that sword, you will have to fight every dead thing in the Southlands. Thus, I say to you, in performing this service, you may find what you seek above all else – death and doom.’
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br /> Gotrek stared at her for a moment, before suddenly relaxing. He gave a gap-toothed grin. ‘Well now, why didn’t you just say so?’
Chapter 10
‘Death and doom, you say?’ Gotrek said. He inclined his head and swept out an arm. It was as close to a bow as Felix had ever seen him come. ‘Speak on, O queen,’ Gotrek said, his good eye glittering with interest.
At the foot of the dais, skeletal servants cleaned up the mess left behind by the dead vampires. The crowd of representatives and messengers had not dispersed, or even moved during the fight. They waited patiently, still holding their scrolls and offerings, as if such assassination attempts were a daily occurrence, and to be politely ignored. Then, if what Zabbai had said was true, it was all part of the routine. Felix watched as more guards trooped in to replace those who had fallen. Cloaked and cowled figures that Zabbai identified as members of the Mortuary Cult swept in silently and claimed the bodies of the fallen. Felix wondered whether they could bring the fallen guards back to something approximating life, or whether they were simply being disposed of, like the vampires.
Khalida tapped her cheek and examined the Slayer for a moment before speaking. ‘In the jungles to the east and south of here, there is a temple. An edifice stained in the blood of a thousand generations and haunted by the spirits of those who died screaming on its black altars,’ she said. ‘The Temple of Skulls.’
Felix spoke up. ‘This sword you mentioned – I gather that it’s ensconced in this temple?’ He didn’t like the sound of the skulls bit. In his experience, any structure with an appellation that grisly wasn’t exactly the sort of place a sensible sort ought to go. Gotrek, on the other hand, looked to be practically salivating at the thought.
Khalida didn’t look at him. ‘It is,’ she said. ‘And it belongs here. It is mine, by right and by blood, and I would have it returned to me.’ She made a fist, and Felix winced as linen tore and dried flesh popped. He’d heard stories of the Tomb Kings marching halfway around the world to reclaim a single golden trinket that some unlucky explorer had stolen from them. He’d always put such wild claims down to idle fancy, but now it seemed to be nothing but the bare truth. What sort of sword, no matter how finely wrought, was worth that sort of effort?
Gotrek and Felix: The Serpent Queen Page 14