Gotrek and Felix: The Serpent Queen

by Josh Reynolds

  ‘There are plenty more to choose from,’ Zabbai said. Felix looked around. Zombies closed in around them. Gotrek raised his axe. He glanced at Felix.

  ‘Get to the gates, manling. I’ll buy you what time I can.’

  ‘Gotrek, I–’ Felix began. Zabbai grabbed his shoulder.

  ‘There is no time, Felix. Go!’

  Together, the two of them raced towards the gates, which were closed. He had no breath to waste on asking how they were planning on getting in. On top of the gatehouse and walls, skeleton archers and spearmen waited to repel attackers with silent discipline. As Felix ran, he saw zombies bearing scaling ladders, made from the twitching bones of animals and men, approaching the walls. There were siege towers as well, mounted on the slumped, staggering carcasses of great lizards, and battering rams made from the skeletons of immense serpents, entwined about the trunks of trees. For a moment, Felix feared they’d be caught between the advancing army and the wall, but pushed the thought aside as catapults and archers fired from the walls, and the front rank of the besiegers was scythed away.

  Behind them, Gotrek had clambered on top of the now twice-dead carnosaur, and was busy spewing profanities and invitations to the zombies lurching towards him. Without the vampire to direct them, the corpses homed in on the loudest, nearest target. Gotrek waited for them with a wide, gap-toothed grin on his ugly face. The dead began to swarm up the carcass of the great lizard and Gotrek tore the head from the first of them to get close.

  But before the rest could reach Gotrek, the sands about the carnosaur’s carcass ruptured as two heavy shapes rose from concealing trenches, amidst the zombie horde. Their sudden appearance sent sand and corpses flying in all directions. Their gigantic forms were covered in bones and mortuary ornamentation, and their heads had been carved to resemble large skulls. They were hewn from emerald and stone, and wore great crested helmets, breastplates, vambraces and ornamental greaves, all lavishly decorated and engraved with intricate scenes and scrawling blocks of Nehekharan script. Each bore a mighty two-handed sword, fully the height of a man, and as thick across as Gotrek himself.

  Those swords took a dreadful toll on the ranks of zombies, including those scrambling towards Gotrek. The Slayer gave vent to a howl of frustration as his opponents were scythed away, like chaff on the wind. ‘Behold,’ Zabbai said, ‘the Emerald Sentinels of Lybaras, greatest of the war statuary of Nehekhara, and mightiest of the necrolith colossi!’

  Felix could only watch in awe as the two gigantic constructs launched an unstoppable assault into the heart of the enemy army. Dozens of zombies were crushed, chopped or hurled into the air by every sweep of the massive blades. Undead saurians hurled themselves at this new foe, seeking to grapple with them. Gotrek dropped from the carnosaur’s carcass and trotted towards Felix, kicking severed heads and limbs out of his way petulantly. ‘They’re killing all my zombies,’ he snarled, gesturing at the stone warriors.

  ‘There’ll be more, I’m certain,’ Felix said.

  Gotrek spat and gestured to the sword in Felix’s hands. ‘Let’s get that toy back to its owner. The sooner we do that, the sooner I can find the doom she promised me,’ he said, glaring longingly at the path of destruction left behind by the two constructs.

  ‘And the sooner I can get this blasted thing off my arm,’ Felix said. ‘Of course, there’s still the question of how we get in.’

  ‘There is no question. If the Emerald Sentinels have emerged, then a sortie is imminent. All we have to do is reach the gates as they open,’ Zabbai said.

  As they hurried towards the gates, the ground began to tremble beneath their feet. Ahead of them, the ancient portal began to open and Felix saw that Zabbai had been correct. Massive hinges screamed in protest as the heavy bronze doors spread apart. Felix stumbled to a halt as he caught sight of the two enormous ushabti that were responsible for the movement of the gates.

  As the giant statues pushed the gates open to their fullest, a legion of skeletal horsemen galloped through. Gotrek pulled Felix aside as the riders thundered past in a loose column, to join the necrolith colossi in their battle. ‘Careful, manling, you have a bad habit of almost getting run over by horses,’ Gotrek said.

  The column split into two lines, which travelled in opposite directions, racing the length of the approaching horde. The horsemen carried bows rather than spears, and as Felix and Zabbai watched, the horse-archers began to fire as they galloped down the line of zombies, peppering the horde with arrows. The approaching mass of zombies hesitated as the front ranks disintegrated and those behind were forced to clamber over their fellows, or be crushed by the colossi. Felix knew it wouldn’t stop them, but it had slowed them considerably.

  Zabbai hurried Felix through the gates. ‘Come, we must find the High Queen,’ she said. Skeletons marched past them out of the gates, shields held aloft, and spears levelled. To Felix, it looked as if the might of Lybaras had been mobilised in its entirety. The avenue beyond the gate was packed with rank upon rank of skeletons, most armed with shields and spears, but some archers as well. He realised that the horse-archers had been merely to ensure that the legions arrayed before him had room to take up position before the walls.

  Behind the infantry, row upon row of chariots rolled forward, accompanied by more skeletal horseman, and loping ushabti, as well as the sinister shapes of the necropolis knights. Khalida, it seemed, had no intention of weathering a siege. In the lead chariot, Felix caught sight of Khalida. She stood straight-backed, her staff by her side and a khopesh in her hand. Her tomb-guard swarmed around her. Felix saw no sign of Djubti, and he hoped that Khalida could remove the asp without the liche-priest’s help.

  ‘You have returned,’ Khalida said when she caught sight of them. She ordered her chariot to a halt, and the others followed suit. ‘As Asaph foretold,’ she continued.

  Zabbai pushed Felix forwards. ‘My queen, we have travelled far, and braved many dangers, and we have reclaimed that which was stolen from you,’ she intoned.

  Khalida’s glowing gaze settled on Felix. ‘Give me the sword.’

  He handed it over quickly, eager to be rid of it. ‘What about this?’ he said, gesturing to the asp bracelet. Khalida did not look at him.

  ‘What about it?’ She looked at Gotrek. ‘I require your service for one day more, Doom-Seeker. The death I promised you encircles us. I would pit the weight of your wyrd against the ambition of my enemy.’

  Gotrek’s jaw thrust out stubbornly. ‘And the manling?’ he asked.

  ‘Fight and he shall live,’ Khalida said. ‘Or die, as the gods will.’

  ‘But – but, we brought you the sword!’ Felix protested.

  ‘As the gods willed, and now they will that you fight,’ Khalida said.

  ‘I’ll fight without the poison!’ Felix protested. He clawed at the bracelet. ‘Get this thing off me!’ He looked around helplessly, and then slumped when he saw no help forthcoming.

  Khalida looked at him. ‘You still have a night yet, man of the wild lands. And come the morning, we shall either be victorious or enfolded in oblivion’s bower. Fight hard, and live. Or run and die. Either way, the will of Asaph shall be done.’

  ‘The manling has never run,’ Gotrek snapped. ‘And aye, I’ll fight for you. You promised me a doom, and I’ll collect it from you, Serpent Queen.’

  ‘So I did, Doom-Seeker,’ Khalida said softly. ‘Before this battle is done, you may yet find it, if Asaph so wills.’

  ‘Asaph means nothing to me,’ Gotrek growled. ‘If she would deny me a doom, she’ll have to take it up with Grimnir.’

  ‘This is the Doom-Seeker, then?’ Rhupesh said, looking down at Gotrek. ‘He is quite tiny.’

  ‘Come down here and say that,’ Gotrek snapped, flicking blood out of his beard.

  Rhupesh leapt down from the chariot and stalked towards Gotrek. They were of a similar size, though Felix judged that, were Rhupesh alive, Gotrek would have proven the heavier. The tomb-king bumped his ribcage against Gotrek�
��s barrel chest and said, ‘Tiny I called thee, and tiny thou art.’

  Gotrek leaned forward. ‘You speak hard words, for a dead man.’

  ‘I am no man. I am a king,’ Rhupesh barked. The two were almost nose to nose.

  ‘And I am a Slayer,’ Gotrek growled.

  Felix looked back and forth between them. He leaned towards Zabbai. ‘He’s – ah – he’s quite short, for a king. And broad,’ he said hesitantly.

  ‘He is the Son of the Ox and Asp,’ Zabbai said. ‘He was found in a basket of rushes, delivered to Lybaras as a gift of the gods.’

  ‘Right, right, but his general shape is…’ Felix trailed off.

  ‘The weight of his divine strength has but reduced his stature.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ Felix asked, wondering how to phrase the question he dearly wanted to ask. Before he could, however, Khalida thumped the floor of her chariot with her staff.

  ‘Cease, Rhupesh,’ she said. ‘We ride to war already. There is no need to start a second here.’ She looked at Zabbai. ‘Take the Adder Legion and Harkhaty’s regiment,’ she gestured to one of the nearby tomb-guard, who saluted stiffly, ‘to the Gate of Salt and Trade. The enemy has entered the harbour. They seek to enter the city from the seaward side, likely so that they might throw open the gates to Nitocris’s host. Throw them back into the sea, my herald.’ She gestured and her chariot-driver snapped the reins. The chariot rumbled past. Felix was forced to scramble aside. Rhupesh’s chariot followed suit, and the column marched on, out of the gates to meet the enemy.

  ‘I’m going to die, aren’t I?’ Felix said, to no one in particular. He reached into his belt pouch and filched out a bit of dried meat. It was all that remained of the supplies they’d taken on their journey into the jungle. He gnawed on it hungrily.

  ‘Probably,’ Gotrek said, slapping him on the back and nearly causing him to choke on the food. ‘Look at it this way, manling – at least you’re in the right place for it.’

  ‘That’s not comforting, Gotrek,’ Felix said.

  ‘I wasn’t trying to comfort you,’ Gotrek said. He spat on the hem of Felix’s cloak and used it to wipe rotting flesh from the blade of his axe. ‘Still got your notebook with you, then?’ he continued, as they fell in beside Zabbai.

  Felix touched his chest, and felt the square of leather and pages beneath his chainmail. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘why?’

  ‘No reason,’ Gotrek said, letting his axe rest on his shoulder. ‘If you die, I’ll need to retrieve it. For your replacement, I mean.’

  ‘My replacement,’ Felix said dully.

  ‘Well you can’t expect me to go on without a Rememberer, manling,’ Gotrek said with a sniff. ‘That isn’t how it works.’

  ‘No, no I suppose not,’ Felix said.

  Gotrek was silent for a moment. Then he said, ‘It’d be a shame, mind.’

  ‘Would it?’

  ‘Be a waste, really,’ Gotrek said, not looking at him, ‘all those scribbles you’ve left scattered across the world. Be a shame to have to leave those out of my death-saga.’

  ‘Yes, it would,’ Felix said, smiling slightly.

  ‘If you die, my story won’t have as much – what’d you call it – colour? If my doom is to be worthy of a saga, it must have the proper context.’

  ‘Oh yes, certainly,’ Felix said.

  ‘Context, manling, is the mortar of legend,’ Gotrek said piously.

  ‘So I’ve heard,’ Felix said.

  ‘Dwarf saying, that, very old, very traditional,’ Gotrek added.

  ‘I’m sure.’

  ‘Are you laughing at me, manling?’

  ‘No, Gotrek. I’m merely enthused by the prospect of the coming battle,’ Felix said, not looking at the Slayer. Gotrek eyed him suspiciously for a moment, and then made to slap him on the shoulder. However, the expected blow did not fall. Instead, he gently patted Felix’s arm.

  ‘Aye, manling, me too,’ Gotrek said. ‘Try not to die, will you?’

  ‘I’ll do my best,’ Felix said.

  Zabbai led them through the city, along the bottom of the wall, until they reached the edge of the city closest to the sea. A group of ushabti were waiting for them. Felix could hear the crash of waves on the other side of the wall.

  ‘Hail and well met, Daughter of the Spear, Son of the Stone and Man of the Uncivilised Tribes,’ one of the ushabti boomed. It struck the ground with the haft of its weapon. Its fellows followed suit. ‘Have you come to shed blood and share glory with the proud Sons of Asaph?’

  ‘Hail and well met, O Kharnak, Mighty Sentinel of the White Tower,’ Zabbai said. She raised her axe in greeting. ‘We have come to see off those who would threaten the Gate of Salt and Trade.’ Felix realised that the immense construct was the same one that had been guarding Khalida’s palace when he and Gotrek had first arrived. Zabbai gestured to the warriors that Khalida had sent with them. ‘We bring men.’

  ‘And a Slayer,’ Gotrek growled.

  ‘A plan would be preferable, Child of the High Peaks,’ Kharnak said, jaws sagging in what Felix hoped was a smile. ‘We are mighty, but few. Our enemy shall slip past us, like the vermin they are.’

  ‘None shall get past us, Hero of Ancient Days,’ Zabbai said. ‘We must meet them before they reach the gates, however.’

  ‘Thy cunning is renowned, Bride of the Axe,’ Kharnak said. He gestured, and the great seaward gates began to open, hauled inwards by gangs of skeletons, who held the massive chains attached to the heavy circular plates set into the centre of each door.

  Corroded hinges squealed, and Felix grimaced. As the gate opened, the smell of the Bitter Sea billowed through and across them. Felix held his cloak up to his face to hide his nose and mouth. The sea had acquired its name honestly. It smelt faintly of sulphur. Gotrek slapped the sides of his barrel chest and inhaled loudly.

  ‘Smell that, manling? It smells like the forges of Barak Varr.’ Gotrek gestured, as if to pull more of the stench into his flared nostrils.

  ‘Yes, just like that,’ Felix gagged. The Bitter Sea was a dark expanse, stretching across the horizon and back as far as the eye could see. Felix could see the dark ridges of distant shores, obscured by the bitter mist that rolled across the waters.

  ‘The enemy approaches, Child of the South. Assemble thy forces. We stand ready for your command,’ Kharnak rumbled. Zabbai ordered the archers forward into the archway of the gate. Felix looked out at a scene of destruction.

  Out in the harbour, the rotting hulks had smashed through the galleys that had mobilised to block the mouth of the harbour, and, carried forwards by stinking winds conjured by the vampires standing on the decks of the lead ships, they plunged aground. The ancient docks and quays of Lybaras, which had once played host to vessels from a thousand and one ports, were shattered and broken by the heaving, zombie-infested vessels. Ambulatory corpses tumbled from the decks or plunged through the holes in the hulls, and waded ashore, clutching rusty weapons, or reaching out with empty, rotting hands. Undead sea-beasts came with them, things with scales, fins and too many legs, dredged from the mud and silt of the ocean’s bottom and brought to the surface by the dark magics of the besiegers.

  Felix watched in horror as the harbour-guard were pulled down by the sheer mass of corpses. The skeletal warriors fought, but they were as rocks in a rushing stream, and were overwhelmed with rapidity. Vampires leapt across the heads and shoulders of the stumbling dead, using the zombies as an undulating walkway right to the harbour gates of the city. Felix’s horror crystallised as he realised that the vampires, led by one clad in a ratty and outsize Sartosian captain’s coat, headed right for him. He glanced at Zabbai, who motioned the archers to ready themselves to fire. A servant scuttled down the line with a lit taper clutched in one fleshless hand, touching it to each arrowhead.

  ‘Those corpses look too damp to set fire to,’ he said doubtfully.

  ‘The arrows aren’t for the corpses,’ Zabbai said. She roared out a command. The fire-arrows were loos
ed, and the archers immediately retreated back through the gates, replaced by a line of a hundred tomb-guards wielding heavy shields and halberds, and marching in lock-step. The armoured skeletons filled the harbour gates from hinge to post. Zabbai gently pushed Felix back behind the line of shields. The burning volley struck the beached vessels. The hulks caught quickly, despite their state. In moments, an inferno blazed behind the approaching horde. Zabbai raised her axe again, and brought it down. The tomb-guard began to march. They formed a moving shield-wall, and crashed into the front rank of zombies. Instead of fighting them, however, they locked shields and crossed halberds, creating an unbreakable bulwark.

  ‘Ha! That’s the way,’ Gotrek roared. ‘That’s the dwarf way. Maybe you humans did learn some of what we taught you.’ Slowly but steadily, the tomb-guard began to push the clawing, groaning dead back. The vampires, however, were a different matter. They used the tomb-guard as they had the zombies, springing onto their shoulders and heads and leaping off. The one in the coat gave a screech and she and her companions loped forwards.

  Zabbai stepped forward. ‘We must keep them from getting into the city,’ she said.

  ‘Agreed,’ Felix said. ‘How about we step back inside and close the gates?’

  ‘That’s no fun,’ Zabbai said, and sprinted to meet the vampires. Felix sighed and looked at Gotrek.

  The Slayer grinned. ‘I like her, manling. If she were several centuries younger and still breathing, I’d pledge your troth for you myself.’ He gestured and they started after Zabbai. Behind them, Felix could hear the ushabti beginning to move as well, with a sound like stone grinding on stone.

  ‘Oh no, you remember what happened last time you arranged a marriage for me?’