Warhammer - [Blackhearts 02] - The Broken Lance

by Nathan Long (lit)

  'Captain,' said a voice behind Reiner. Everyone turned. It was Nuemark. He was almost as pale as his hair. His greatswords were behind him. He swallowed and squared his shoulders. 'Captain. I... I have much to make up for. Let me and my Carroburgers do this thing.'

  Halmer looked taken aback. 'Er, you... you outrank me, Obercaptain. I will not command you. But if it is your wish....'

  'It is my duty.'

  'Very well.' Halmer turned to Reiner. 'Gather your men. The obercaptain will escort you.'

  Reiner saluted, and returned to the Blackhearts, still fighting in the last rank of their adopted pike company His stomach sank as if it had been loaded with rocks. Charging across the battlefield under heavy fire from the walls was certain death. On the other hand, staying here outside the fort was certain death as well. Better perhaps to be moving.

  'Blackhearts!' he called. 'To me. General's orders.'

  The Blackhearts backed out of their rank, allowing their pikeman comrades to fill their gaps, then joined him. The square had now tucked in behind the keep, out of the great south wall's line of fire, and the shooting from the keep had stopped as soon as they had moved away from the gatehouse. In fact, here, handgun and crossbow fire from the keep was supporting them, dropping rats all around Halmer's force.

  'What's the job?' asked Hals.

  'There's a passage into the keep dungeon from under the main gatehouse. We're to go in and open the gates.' He looked up at the walls. 'And discover who's shooting at the general.'

  'A passage into...' Pavel cursed. 'Would've been nice to know that when we was trying to break out, hey?'

  Reiner led them to where Nuemark was forming up his twenty greatswords. He looked even more scared than before, his face grey and slick.

  Reiner saluted. 'Ready, obercaptain.'

  Nuemark nodded. 'Very good.' He turned to his men. 'Swords of Carroburg, I have dishonoured your name with my cowardice today, and you should not die that I may make amends. Do not make this sacrifice for me, but to save the lives of your comrades, the men I helped betray to these foul vermin.'

  The greatswords drew their weapons, their faces grim. Their sergeant saluted. 'We are ready, obercaptain.' They fell into two rows, one on either side of the Blackhearts, shields on their outer arms. One of them growled in Reiner's ear.

  'Y'better be worth it, boy.'

  Nuemark turned. 'Gunner captain! When you are ready.'

  The captain of the handgunners nodded and signalled his men to advance to the southernmost edge of the square. Nuemark's greatswords and the Blackhearts fell in behind them. The handgunners stopped directly behind a triple rank of pikemen. Every other man knelt. 'Pikemen!' called the gunner captain. 'Make a hole!'

  The pikemen looked behind them, then parted ranks. Ratmen tried to flood the hole, but they were not quick enough.

  'Fire!' called the gunner captain, and his men unloaded their shot directly into the narrow gap, slaughtering four ranks of ratmen in one volley.

  'In!' cried Nuemark. 'Carroburgmen charge!'

  The greatswords ran into the opening made by the dying ratmen, swords high, roaring the name of their city. Reiner and the Blackhearts ran with them, hunched down to hide behind their massive, armoured bodies and their round shields. The greatswords hit the massed ratmen like a boulder smashing into a mud lake. The sound of steel chopping rat-flesh and rat-bone was music to Reiner's ears.

  The party rounded the corner of the keep, a tiny raft of humanity in a swamp of vermin. The greatsword who had growled at Reiner went down beside him, a rat-spear thrust through his groin. He held his killer's severed head in his shield hand. Another Carroburger went down on the other side. The others closed ranks.

  A third dropped, shrieking, as a bullet ripped through his breastplate. The metal of the breastplate seemed to melt away from the bullet, and the flesh beneath it boiled. The rats on the walls had found them. The Carroburgers raised their shields over their heads. Reiner wondered if that would help.

  A rat spear darted through between two greatswords and stabbed Reiner through the thigh. He stumbled as his leg gave out, but Gert caught him and hauled him up again.

  'Steady, captain.'

  Reiner looked down. The wound was deep. Blood was crimsoning his leggings. 'Bollocks!' He couldn't feel it, at least. And then he could, and he grunted. It hurt like fire. He almost fell from the pain. Gert caught him again.

  'Can you walk, captain?'

  'I'll manage.'

  Reiner limped on, his leg jolting agony with every step. Fortunately, the ratmen thinned out the closer they got to the gatehouse, for their attentions were on the keep. But in a way this was also unfortunate, for it made the men clearer targets for the gunners on the wall. Two more greatswords fell, and Dag screamed and shook his left hand. It was missing two fingers. Blood poured from the stumps.

  At last they ran under the shadow of the main gate, a thick crowd of rats still harassing them. Nuemark beat on the thick gatehouse door with the pommel of his sword. 'Let us in! Let us in!'

  A voice came through the studded wood. 'Commander Shaeder's orders. No one to come through this door.'

  'We are on General Gutzmann's orders, curse you!' cried Nuemark. 'Let us in.'

  There was a short pause, then Reiner and the others heard bolts being drawn and crossbars raised. Reiner's leg was making him feel nauseous. The gatehouse door swam before him. He gripped the wall and steadied himself.

  'All right, captain?' asked Franka.

  'Not in the least,' he said. 'But there's nothing for it now.'

  The door opened to reveal a few terrified guardsmen. Nuemark shoved Reiner through. 'Skirmishers. In. Hurry.'

  The Blackhearts pushed in behind Reiner and turned. It was a tiny room, already crowded with guardsmen, who had to press into the corners to make room for the new arrivals. There was a table and chairs in the centre, racks of weapons on the walls, and a spiral staircase in one corner that led to the battlements. The left wall was filled with the machinery that raised and lowered the portcullises.

  The greatswords made to follow the Blackhearts in, but the rats, seeing an opportunity to take the room, attacked furiously. Another greatsword went down. The rest faced out, chopping into the mass of rats.

  'In, curse you!' roared Nuemark. His knees were shaking. He nearly lost his grip on his sword.

  One by one the greatswords backed into the door as Pavel and Hals stabbed at the rats over their shoulders with their spears. But with each one through the door, those left outside were pressed all the harder. Another went down, and another. At last there was only Nuemark and one other, and the rats were beginning to slip around them.

  Nuemark pushed his last man through the door. 'Close it! Close it, you fools,' he cried. He was weeping with fear, but he never stopped slashing with his sword.

  The greatsword sergeant slammed the door shut and the gatehouse guards dropped the heavy bar.

  Through the thick oak, Nuemark's voice rose to a wail. 'Sigmar forgive me! Sigmar forgive...' His words were cut short as the sound of halberds cutting through armour and into human flesh made every man in the cramped room shudder.

  Nuemark's sergeant made the sign of the hammer as he finished his captain's plea. 'Sigmar forgive him.'

  'We could have had him in,' said Hals.

  'He didn't wish it,' said the greatsword sergeant.

  Reiner collapsed on the stone stairs and cut at his leggings, exposing his wound. A ragged trench had been dug in his left thigh by the spear. The very sight of it made the pain worse. Franka hissed when she saw it.

  With more than twenty men in it, the room was terribly cramped. A few of the greatswords were seeing to wounds of their own. Dag was giggling hysterically as he tied his kerchief over the stumps of his missing third and fourth fingers.

  'All right, archer?' asked Reiner as he stripped out of his jacket and tore the sleeve from his shirt.

  Dag grinned glassily and held up his ruined hand, waggling his first an
d middle finger. 'Fine, captain. Still have my shooting fingers.'

  Reiner ripped his sleeve into strips. He glanced up at the guardsmen. 'Have any of you some water? Or better yet, kirschwasser?'

  A guard pulled a flask from a cupboard and handed it to him. Reiner uncapped it, and had it halfway to his lips before he remembered his vow. He cursed. Damn Ranald anyway, another nine hundred and ninety-six men at least before he could drink again. What had he been thinking? He poured the liquor on the wound. It stung like wet ice. Reiner hissed. Franka tied the strips of cloth tight around the wound. Reiner's vision eclipsed at the pain, and he turned quickly away to avoid vomiting on her. He vomited on Pavel instead.

  'Thank you very much,' said the pikeman, recoiling.

  'Sorry lad. Surprised me, too.' He pushed himself up and faced the guard room sergeant. His leg screamed but held. 'Where is this trap?' he asked through clenched teeth.

  The sergeant pointed to a rack of spears built into the wall. 'Lundt. Corbin. Open the bolt hole.'

  Two guardsmen tugged four heavy pegs from the frame of the rack then lifted it away from the wall, revealing a narrow staircase that descended into darkness.

  'So Gutzmann's alive?' asked the guard sergeant.

  'Aye,' said Reiner as he helped Gert to his feet. 'And he commands you hold this door at all costs. Let no rat in.'

  'Aye, sir. No fear of that.'

  The Blackhearts and Nuemark's greatswords stood and made themselves ready. Reiner saluted their sergeant. 'Thank you for the escort,' he said. 'Sigmar watch you.'

  'And you as well,' said the greatsword. He turned and led his men up the stairs.

  Jergen stood and faced Reiner. 'Captain.'

  Reiner nearly jumped out of his skin. He wasn't sure the swordsman had ever addressed him voluntarily before. 'Aye, Rohmner?'

  Jergen nodded at the greatswords. 'I will be best used with them.'

  Reiner looked at the greatsword sergeant. 'Will you have him?'

  'Can he fight?'

  'Like several tigers.'

  The greatsword chuckled. 'Then fall in, bravo.'

  Jergen joined the men climbing the stairs.

  Reiner turned to the Blackhearts. 'Ready, lads?'

  They nodded. Reiner took a torch from the gatehouse wall, then ducked through the secret door and they all went down into the dark.

  The passage was narrow and direct. At the end, there was a second staircase and a door in the ceiling. Reiner found the catch and shot it back, then pressed his back against the door. It didn't budge.

  'Steingesser. Kiir,' he called, limping down. Gert and Hals squeezed around the others and stepped up to the trap. They pushed with hands and shoulders.

  A muffled 'Hoy!' came from above, and they heard a confusion of steps.

  The trap slammed open, and a ring of handgunners aimed down at them, fingers on their triggers. Gert and Hals threw up their hands.

  Reiner did too. 'Hold, brothers. We are men.'

  The handgunners eased back, but continued to look at them warily. 'What men are ye?' asked a sergeant.

  'I bring a message for Commander Shaeder,' said Reiner as he and his companions stepped slowly up the stairs. They were coming up in the guardroom just outside the cell Gutzmann had imprisoned them in the night before. The room was packed with a company of handgunners, sitting in rows with their guns across their laps. Gert and Hals had apparently lifted a few of them along with the trap. Their sergeants were their only commanders.

  'Is the battle over?' asked a redheaded sergeant.

  'What?' said Reiner. 'Hardly. What are you doing down here? Where is your captain?'

  'We was told to bide here 'til the order came to retake the walls, sir,' said the sergeant, saluting. 'But it never come. Captain Baer went to ask, but he ain't come back.' He coughed, nervous. 'Er, is it true the general's returned, sir?'

  'Aye, sergeant.' said Reiner, smiling as big as he could manage. 'Returned to lead us, and he commands you to take the great south wall. There's a company of greatswords clearing the way for you now. Away with you. And Sigmar guide your aim!'

  'But our captains...'

  'There's no time. I'll send 'em after you. Go. Go!'

  'Aye, sir!' said the sergeant, grinning. 'This way, lads! Action at last!'

  The handgunners jumped up, relieved to be doing something, and began clattering into the trap after him.

  Reiner and the others hurried for stairs.

  Franka shook her head. 'I don't understand. I know Shaeder wished to kill Gutzmann. But at the cost of killing himself as well?'

  Reiner shrugged. He had no answer for her.

  The gate at the top of the stairs was open and there was no guard. The boom of guns and a buzz of voices echoed from outside, but the hallway was empty. Reiner held up his hand, then crept forward. The door into the dining hall was open. They looked in. The room was packed with pikemen, all staring glumly towards the main entrance.

  The fort shuddered as a cannon ball struck it.

  'The ratmen still control the guns, then,' said Karel.

  'Jergen'll see to them,' said Hals, then spat to be sure he hadn't cursed the swordsman by speaking too quickly.

  The Blackhearts passed on to the courtyard door and looked out. A crowd of lancers and pistoliers filled it, waiting on their horses in full kit, but like the handgunners in the dungeon, they had no captains. They were rigid with tension, every fibre ready to charge out, but instead only their eyes moved, darting from a knot of men banging on the north door of the murder room, to the burning doors of the gate, which looked about to collapse, to the clamour of desperate battle coming from over the north wall, where Halmer's force fought the rat army. Reiner could see that the thud and clash of weapons, the screams of men and horses, the high chittering of rats, were driving the cavalry men insane. Their fellows were dying not twenty yards away, and they could do nothing but sit and listen.

  Reiner's pistolier company was near the door, arguing amongst themselves as they watched the walls.

  'Hist!' Reiner called, stepping out. 'Grau!'

  The corporal turned. Reiner beckoned him over. He dismounted and hurried to the door. Two of his men came with him.

  'Where have you been, Meyerling?' asked Grau. 'Vortmunder's been calling for your head.'

  'Never mind that. What's all this? Gutzmann's getting chopped to bits outside. Why do you not ride out?'

  'We want to,' said Grau, angrily. 'But Shaeder's lads have barricaded themselves in the murder room and that is where the winches are. He's locked us in, the traitor.'

  'Shaeder ain't a traitor,' said Yoeder. 'It's a trap, like he said. Aulschweig men, dressed up as Reiksmen to lure us out to our doom.'

  'Yer mad,' said the third, a stout fair-haired man Reiner didn't know. 'That's Gutzmann out there. I saw his face.'

  'It ain't!' said Yeoder. 'Gutzmann couldn't ride so poor if he tried. Damned imposter sits a horse like he's made of sticks.'

  'It is Gutzmann,' said Reiner. 'I've just come from him. He's grievously wounded, but he wouldn't stay away while you were trapped here.'

  Yeoder stared at him. 'It's Gutzmann? Truly?'

  'Truly.'

  Grau cursed. 'Some of the captains are up trying to break down the door. The rest are in arguing with Shaeder in Gutzmann's quarters.'

  Reiner pushed a hand through his hair. 'This is madness. You must ride out.'

  'Too bad old Urquart ain't still with us,' said Pavel. 'He'd knock them doors down with one swing.'

  'If only we had one of them glass balls the ratties got,' said Hals. 'We could smoke 'em out.'

  Reiner looked at him, eyebrows raising, 'Amazing. A pikeman with a brain.' He turned, looking around the courtyard intently. 'Franka, a feedbag from the stables. And fill it with hay. Oh, and a good length of rope. Karel, a keg of powder from the armoury if you please. Pavel and Hals, lamp oil and bacon fat from the kitchen. As much as you can carry. And a big pot. Hurry. Meet us on the wall at the south door. Ay
e?'

  As they ran off, the gate's wooden doors finally collapsed with a great roaring and eruption of sparks. Through the smoking rubble Reiner saw the forms of ratmen trying to eel through the bars of the portcullis. 'And pray we are not too late.'

  NINETEEN

  All Must Die!

  REINER, DAG AND Gert ran up the stairs to the murder room as sergeants called squads of handgunners and swordsmen to defend the gate below it. The gunners fired through the inner portcullis at the ratmen that squirmed through the outer one. The murder room had two heavy, banded doors that opened onto the battlements to its left and right. Narrow arrow slot windows pierced the inner and outer walls. There were no other openings. Reiner listened at the south door when they reached it. He could hear the captains pounding uselessly on the north door and demanding that the men inside let them in. There was an iron ladder bolted to the wall. He looked up it then turned to the others.

  'Dag, I'll have you here. Gert, can you make it onto the roof?'

  Gert scowled. 'Ain't that fat, captain.' He started up the ladder.

  Franka was first to return to them, a coil of rope slung over her shoulder and a leather feedbag stuffed with hay dangling from one hand.

  'Good, lad. Er, lass,' said Reiner. 'Now get that rope around your waist.'

  'What?' Franka looked alarmed.

  'Not afraid of heights, are you?'

  'No, but...'

  'Once knew a topside monkey with a second storey mob. Made his living this way. Here, let me tie you off.'

  Karel came back next, holding a keg of powder like a baby.

  'Now pour as much of that as you can down into the hay,' said Reiner. 'But don't pack it.'

  Pavel and Hals ran up just as Karel was finishing. Hals had two jugs of lamp oil. Pavel carried a big iron pot with a jar of drippings in it.

  Reiner grinned. 'Excellent. Pavel, smear some fat on the bag. Hals, pour the lamp oil in the pot.'

  Pavel made a face, but dug some of the fat out with his dagger and scraped it off onto the bag as Hals filled the big pot. When he was done, Reiner took the bag and lowered it into the pot of oil, pushing it down with the butt end of Pavel's spear until the hay and the leather were well saturated with the volatile oil.