[Warhammer] - Zavant

by Gordon Rennie - (ebook by Undead)

“Ah yes, the first recorded instance I have found of you dates from the time of the Crusades, although I suspect you make appearances throughout history long before that. You were the creature the Arabians called ‘the Terror by Night’, were you not? The phantom succubus that crept into camps and fortresses at night and killed crusader and Araby knight alike?”

  He looked up. She said nothing, but her quiet smile told him to continue. “Four hundred years later, you appear as the Lady Leonore, the infamous, so-called ‘Vampire Mistress of Moussillon’. The keeps and glades of Bretonnia must have been a favourite hunting ground of yours, for I believe that you are also clearly the poet Volpaire’s inspiration for the beguiling daemon-seductress in his epic poem, La Belle Dame Sans Merci.”

  “Then perhaps you and I have much in common, Herr Konniger,” she answered, playfully. “After all, were you yourself not transformed into a work of fiction in a recent play-work by Volpaire’s great grandson? I was not fortunate enough to see a performance of it the last time I was visiting Gisoreux, although I understand it is very popular. Perhaps I shall be more lucky on my return journey home,” she smiled.

  Konniger ignored the clear, amused mockery in her voice. “And there are others… Katrina the Bloody… the Countess Karmilla… Mirkalla von Leicheberg… Eleanor la Voisine… Need I go on?”

  She was still smiling, her dark eyes keenly trained on Konniger. “So many different names, sometimes even I forget them. But tell me, sage, if you are so wise, do you then know my true name?”

  Konniger looked straight at her. “You are the Lady Khemalla of Lahmia. You were born, I expect, some several thousand years ago in the place we now call the Land of the Dead. You are the Nuncio envoy of the arch-fiend Neferata, Queen of Mysteries, ruler of the Lahmian Sisterhood and mistress of the Silver Pinnacle. You have roamed this world for these many centuries in her service, killing and conspiring as suits your whim and the bidding of your vile queen.”

  The vampire’s smile grew wider, and wider still, revealing the subtle points of fang-sharp teeth. Konniger suspected that he had provoked her too far too soon, that she was on the verge of showing her true monstrous form, and he wondered how many short seconds of life he might now have left. Instead, she laughed.

  “Clever little mortal. I’ve killed more of your kind than I can remember for daring to know even a few pieces of the secrets that you seem to command with such ease. Tell me, how did you divine such information?”

  Konniger gestured at the book and scroll-laden shelves all around him. “I make it my business to know such things, my lady. Much of your past history is documented fact, even if the clues and evidence is spread thinly across half a hundred different, rare sources. Of course, my task in assembling the evidence was made that much easier, since I recognised you after our encounter three nights ago in the sewer tunnel.”

  “How?” There was a veiled tone of surprise in the question. Konniger sensed that the creature sitting opposite him was relishing their conversation, as, perversely, was he himself. He imagined that, for a being as long-lived as this thing, any hint of novelty or the chance to experience any new or forgotten human emotion might come as a welcome respite to the secret ennui of the long millennia of shadowy, undead existence.

  In response to her question, Konniger unrolled a scroll of parchment lying on his desk, holding it out for her to see. She lent forward to inspect it, but Konniger suspected that she had already guessed what would be inscribed upon it.

  “Ah, of course. The great da Venzio’s famous and magnificent ceiling paintings at that temple in Remas. A good copy, too, I imagine. Drawn in your own hand, I assume? I have never seen the original work myself, you understand—there are certain… restrictions preventing me from entering a temple consecrated to the goddess of healing and mercy—but those that have seen it tell me that da Venzio skilfully captured much of my likeness for his portrait of the fair goddess.”

  Here she broke off, a short, malicious laugh escaping from her perfect crimson lips. “Of course, you can never know how much pleasure I still derive even now from the thought of all those pious fools gathering there every day in their temple, offering up their idiot prayers to the blessed and merciful Shallya, never realising whose face it truly is that gazes down at them from the gilded ceiling high above their heads!”

  “Then you knew da Venzio?” inquired Konniger.

  “For a time,” she answered guardedly. “I helped him in his work, so I suppose you could consider me to have been his patron of sorts. I have known many great artists in my time. Perhaps you could even say that I have developed a taste for art—and perhaps also for artists—over the centuries.”

  Another smile, another teasing, malicious inference. Konniger ignored it all, and continued on with his line of questioning, all too aware of just how unique and dangerous this meeting was.

  “The other creature that attacked my associates and I in the tunnels that night, what happened to it?”

  She grinned, openly baring her fangs for the first time. The inference of the gesture was obvious. “It has been dealt with. It and others like it shall not return here again to trouble the crimelord.”

  “Would it be impertinent of me to ask what your purpose here truly was?”

  He saw a flash of angry surprise in her eyes, quickly masked by the veil of amused boredom that she had assumed for this encounter. “Beware, little mortal,” she purred, an underlying tone of warning now creeping into her voice, “I have already told you more than is perhaps wise for either of us. Still, you interest me, and it has been too long since I met any mortal who has done that. I believe the last mortal I enjoyed such stimulating conversation with was the great Leonardo da Miragliano.”

  “Your ladyship does me too much honour,” answered Konniger at the comparison between himself and the legendary Tilean scientific and artistic genius, while all the time carefully watching every move his guest made. He had to keep her talking, for the moment was surely near now. She was on her feet now, moving over to inspect the chessboard on a nearby table. Although Konniger would have sworn that he had not taken his eyes off her, he had not seen her rise up from the divan seat. One moment she was still resting upon it, a blink of an eye later and she was standing beside the chessboard table. So fast, he thought to himself, wondering how much of a foolishly ambitious and dangerous error he might have made in thinking he could ever pull off this gambit.

  Konniger continued watching her as she spoke, his eyes flickering—casually, he hoped—between her, the hour clock candle on the stand by his desk and the small lead-lined casket box that lay to one side of his desk, half-concealed, and not at all by accident, by a pile of strewn papers. His hand itched to move closer to the casket and what lay within it, but he dare do nothing to alert her to his true intent. So he sat and listened to her speak, keeping one eye on her and another on the hour clock candle as it slowly but surely burned down towards the appointed, fateful moment.

  She picked up one of the chess pieces—the Emperor, Konniger saw—toying with it as she spoke. “We play games, my kind. We play games and we wage war amongst ourselves, secret and eternal wars to determine the ongoing balance of the power in politics of the shadows.”

  Konniger kept his face carefully neutral, but her words sent shockwaves through him. Games, it says. Am I, too, being toyed with here?

  Am I another unwitting player in one of its cruel games, he asked himself? First the casual mention of Leonardo da Miragliano, and now what sounded worryingly like an almost direct echo of the words he had said to Vido that very morning.

  Can it read minds, he wondered? Does it already know my plans here tonight?

  Konniger remained composed as he continued to listen to the words of the Lady Khemalla, but he felt the first trickles of sweaty fear work their way down the flesh of his back.

  “This city is one such battlefield, one of the gaming boards where we have chosen to wage our secret struggles. Although he does not realise it, the crimelor
d is merely a pawn in this great game. That Strigoi animal you saw was merely an assassin in the service of—”

  She broke off suddenly, smiling secretly to herself, before continuing. “I have told you much, perhaps too much, but there are yet some secrets not fit to be heard by mortal ears. Suffice to say, there are those amongst my kind who sought to seize control of the crimelord’s empire and install their own pawn in his place. Their reasons for this I cannot reveal to you, save that this was but a small part of a far greater design, a design which is counter to the purposes of She whom I serve—and I warn you now, little mortal, that you would do well never to speak her name aloud again—and so I was sent here to ensure that matters were more clearly resolved to my Sisterhood’s satisfaction.”

  “An… acquaintance of mine recently told me that for once he and I were fighting together on the same side, against an evil far greater than anything I could ever think him capable of,” mused Konniger. She instantly understood his meaning.

  “And do you think that is true here too? The politics of the night often throws up unlikely allies and strange bedfellows. Sometimes it is far better to ally your fate with that of the devil you know…”

  “Than the devil you don’t?” finished Konniger, with a questioning gesture. “Personally, I much prefer to have as little to do as possible with devils of any sort.”

  When he put his hands back down on the desk, one of them was now resting on the lead casket. It was warm to the touch, as he knew it would be. He allowed himself to relax a little. The moment was close now, but he did not believe that the creature here in the room knew or even suspected what he had in store for it. If it had, he wisely judged, it would almost certainly have torn his throat out by now. The important thing, he realised was to keep it talking and thus distracted.

  “Then your work here is indeed at an end, I assume, and yet you have surely endangered yourself in delaying your departure from Altdorf. I wonder, should I be worried or flattered by your decision to make your delay on my behalf?”

  His question elicited another sly smile from her. “Oh, I still intend to leave tonight, but I admit that your invitation intrigued me. Also, although you may not know it, you and I have crossed paths before. How then could I not resist the opportunity to meet face to face the great Zavant Konniger, the famous gentleman-sage of Altdorf and solver of arcane mysteries and puzzles!”

  More mockery in her voice. Konniger ignored it, sparing a quick glance at the hour clock candle. Only a minute or two more, and the trap would be sprung.

  “I wasn’t aware that our paths had crossed before. The scandal in Gisoreux, perhaps? Or was it earlier than that? The affair of the Stirland vampire? The mystery of the dwarf engineer’s thumb? The case of the Verezzo naval treaty? There are several cases which I supposedly settled to the satisfaction of all concerned, but where I was convinced that there was some other malign presence, unseen and undetected, manipulating events from off-stage.”

  A tight-lipped crimson smile was her only answer.

  From outside, Konniger heard the faint but distinct clatter of metal on stone, the sound of some clumsy fool in armour slipping on rain-slicked cobbles, possibly dropping his weapon into the bargain. If he had heard it, then he assumed that his guest had too. Quickly, hopefully before she could assimilate and identify the sound, he pressed on with their conversation, all too aware that time was quickly running out.

  “If we have crossed paths before, albeit from a distance, then which was I? Opponent or pawn?”

  “A little of both, perhaps,” she answered, “although probably more of the former than the latter. For a mortal, you make a fine opponent, Herr Konniger. I imagine that, when suitably broken in and converted to the cause of the Sisterhood, you would make an even finer thrall.” She moved closer, the points of her incisors showing through the curling snarl of her smiling lips. “Think about it, Zavant. Human life is too short. Your death, the absence of a mind such as yours, would be eternity’s loss. Join us, serve us well, and we have it in our power to offer you the gift of eternal life.”

  “Is that why you came here tonight?” he sneered in reply. “To enlist me? To turn me into one of your mindless servant creatures? You speak of eternal life, but I see only eternal damnation and slavery. Hardly a tempting offer, even compared to the oblivion of the grave.”

  There was noise from outside, a rough Altdorf-accented voice shouting out in alarm and then, seconds later, in pain. A few seconds more and its rising scream was abruptly cut off, and then came the sounds of more shouts of alarm from somewhere close by in the surrounding dark of the city streets. Klasst and his men were there, as summoned by Vido, but clearly the Lady Khemalla had not come alone either. Her servants were out there too, and now the battle had begun.

  Now it was her time to sneer. “An ambush, Herr Konniger? I expected better of you. What was your thinking, I wonder? That vampires are at their most dangerous when cornered in their lair? Better then to lure me to territory of your own choosing, where I would more vulnerable than in my residence on the Reikhoch? Such obvious thinking, Herr Konniger.”

  He watched, frozen, as her features started to shift and change, transforming into those of the terrible reaver thing that had despatched the beast creature vampire with such apparent ease three nights ago in the sewer tunnels. “Such a pity, but now you really do disappoint me,” she said, her voice a low, angry hiss.

  She came at him, swiftly and suddenly. He threw himself backwards, turning his face away, throwing one arm up to shield his eyes, the other hand finding and releasing the hidden catch on the lid of the casket.

  The darkened room was suddenly filled with a blazing, unearthly light. Even with his eyes shut, with his arm shielding his eyes, sharp, bright fingers of light stabbed through his eyelids, and he felt a brilliant, dazzling heat seer the skin of his face and hands, even though the box was turned away from him, the worst effects of its terrible radiance directed towards the vampire creature.

  “Leonardo’s sunbox” it was called; just one of the many wondrous inventions devised or dreamed of by the Tilean genius. Scholars and engineers had long thought it lost, another of the great inventor’s creations which had probably existed only as a meticulous design on a long-lost parchment or some scribbled idea in one of the great inventor’s now priceless notebooks. Konniger had the only known working model of it, and even then it had taken him several years, a small fortune and all his personal ingenuity to restore it to anything resembling proper working order. It was built around a clockwork mechanism, full of a complex series of cunningly placed moving lenses and prisms, each designed to trap and amplify beams of light. At the heart of the device, at least in Leonardo’s original design, was an Elvish sunstone, the soft golden glow given off by the magical stone magnified by the lens arrangement to produce something akin to natural sunlight.

  Perpetual, mechanically-created sunlight had been the great inventor’s intention. Konniger’s intentions were quite different. By altering the arrangement of lenses, by using prisms of a different size to those of Leonardo’s original design, he had radically changed the nature of the device. And, most significant of all, instead of an elvish sunstone, Konniger had placed at the centre of the mechanism a harshly glowing piece of the rare and forbidden substance known as warpstone.

  Leonardo’s intent had been to capture sunlight in a box. What Konniger had done instead, in a deliberate perversion of the device’s intended function, was to imprison a piece of the sun itself inside the lead-lined box. And, as even the most ignorant Empire peasant knew, the light of the sun was deadly to vampires such as this, who hid during the day.

  In tests Konniger had conducted using small animals, the box’s effects had been gratifyingly impressive. When exposed to its searing light, fur had ignited and skin had quickly withered and blackened into charred leather. Against a creature of the undead, whose unnatural substance burned when touched by the lightest kiss of sunlight, the results were sudden and quite s
pectacular.

  Konniger heard a piercing, shrieking scream, followed by the loud, rushing whoosh of air of something large exploding into flames. There were more sounds—more shrieking, enraged screams and the blind smashing of objects and furniture—and then came the breaking of glass and wood as the burning, possibly dying, vampire hurled itself out through the shuttered windows. The device burned itself out in seconds—its unique, priceless mechanism reduced to smouldering, molten slag—and it took a few moments for Konniger’s light-smeared vision to return to him.

  When it did, he saw the wreckage of his study. Bookshelves and table stands smashed and overturned; the precious books and papers on his desk now just so much ash waste from the intense heat and bleaching, pure-white light that had come spilling out of the casket. Several parchment scraps were still alight, and Konniger saw a trail of some other burning, bubbling substance—most likely burnt-away gobbets of vampire flesh, he realised, with a shudder—leading across the floor towards the shattered remains of the windows.

  From outside came shouts and screams, and the sounds of combat. The trap was now sprung.

  Konniger rushed out of the doorway, moving quickly down the stairway and almost colliding headlong with Vido, who was pelting up the same stairs, his dagger held at the ready.

  “Master! I was coming to see if you were harmed. The creature, it’s outside! It’s escaping, and it’s already killed several of Klasst’s men!”

  “Quickly then,” commanded Konniger. “We must join the hunt and go after it.”

  Vido hesitated, looking uncertainly up the stairs towards the study. The growing smell of burning drifted out through the open door of the room, and the thin crackle of flames could also be heard. “But, master… I think your study’s on fire!”

  “No matter,” said Konniger, grabbing his manservant and hustling him back down the stairs. “Books and manuscripts can always be replaced, but the opportunity to rid the world once and for all of a notorious, ageless servant of darkness comes but all too rarely.”