“We don’t need a guide,” snapped Gotrek.
Everyone looked to him.
“I will not be in the debt of honourless dwarfs,” he growled.
“Slayer, they want to help,” said Felix. “And we need help.”
Birgi nodded. “We’ll do anything we can,” he said.
“Except put your lives at risk,” growled Gotrek.
The balding dwarf raised his head at that, angry, but Birgi put a hand on his arm.
“Easy, Skalf,” he said, then turned to Gotrek. “If our deaths would make a difference, Slayer, we would die. But if we rose up, if all the slaves on this ark rose up, the druchii would only kill us and replace us with new slaves. They are too strong.”
Gotrek snorted at that. “The death of one elf is difference enough.”
The old slave continued, undaunted. “We will gladly help you stop this threat to our old holds—for it is there that our hearts lie—but even if you succeed, this ark will go on, the few druchii you kill forgotten when the next fleet of hakseer corsairs comes to reinforce it. Nothing will change. Nothing has ever changed, for four thousand years.”
“Where are the wizards inside the barracks area?” Felix asked before Gotrek could respond. There was no time for argument.
Birgi coughed and turned to him. “Er, well, they’re being held by the Endless, the cold bastards that High Sorceress Heshor brought with her. We had to fix up a pair of old barracks for them. Refitted one for new officers’ quarters, new rooms carved, fine furniture—only the best for our guests from the mainland.”
“Why have they held them? Why weren’t they locked up with the rest of us?” asked Felix.
Birgi shrugged. “I don’t know about that, only the Temple of Khaine don’t allow wizards as slaves. Kill ’em as soon as they’re taken. So I’d guess the Endless are hiding them from the witches. No guess as to why.”
Felix couldn’t quite understand all that. Weren’t the sorceresses witches? What was the difference? It didn’t matter now. What mattered was how they were going to get past the barracks guards.
“Does this Heshor have a lot of power here?” he asked.
Birgi and the other dwarfs laughed.
“She’s turned the ark upside down since she’s come,” said Skalf, the balding dwarf. “Making us sail this way and that like she owned the place. Twisted old Tarlkhir around her finger like a ribbon.”
“Orders from Naggarond,” said Birgi. “Whatever she’s here for, she’s doing it on the authority of the Witch King himself.”
“So things done in her name would carry weight?” Felix asked.
The old dwarf nodded. “Aye, but…”
Felix turned to Aethenir and Gotrek. “If we dress the high one as a druchii and pretend to be his prisoners, and if he says that he is bringing slaves captured during the pirates’ attack on the harbour to the Endless by Heshor’s orders…”
“It won’t work,” interrupted Aethenir. “I look nothing like a druchii!”
The others gave him a look.
He groaned. “Well, I sound nothing like a druchii. My accent…”
“Then you better start practising,” said Gotrek. “And go find some clothes.”
Aethenir sighed, but reluctantly went up the stairs to look through the dead druchii’s closets as Gotrek and Felix fell on the remains of the food.
Not long after, they wound through the tunnels again, following Aethenir, who wore Landryol’s armour, helm and sea dragon cloak, as Birgi trotted at his side, telling him the name of the captain of the Endless and other important names a corsair would know. Felix wondered if it was all for naught. The ark had stopped hours ago—at least two hours before they had made their break—and it seemed hours more since they had fought Euler’s pirates, though in fact it was probably no more than half an hour. Could it be possible that Heshor hadn’t plucked the harp yet? Did harnessing its terrible power require more than just playing it? Was there some ceremony involved? He expected at every step to feel the ark shake or sway and hear the far-off rumble of land being born from the waves. But perhaps he wouldn’t have felt a thing. Perhaps Heshor had already done it!
He sighed to himself. If it had already happened, then they would take what revenge they could, though it could never be enough.
At last they neared the door that Birgi said opened near the front gates of the druchii barracks. They stopped some distance from it and made their final preparations, putting all their weapons and mail in a sack Felix and Gotrek would carry between them, and manacling themselves to a long slave chain that they had found among Landryol’s belongings. Felix and the pirates didn’t like this measure, and Gotrek hated it, for it meant that he would not be able to get to his axe quickly if anything went wrong, and also that he was putting all his trust in Aethenir, who, as their “captor”, held the only key to unlock them. But it was a necessary measure, for no captured prisoners would be allowed to keep their weapons, and if they were to get through the gate, they must be able to pass an inspection by the guards. Simply looping the chains around their wrists and pretending to be locked up wouldn’t do.
As Aethenir struggled to get a pair of manacles around Gotrek’s massive wrists, Birgi gave them detailed instructions for finding their way through the barracks area to the lodgings of the Endless, then he and the other dwarfs gave them a dwarfen salute.
“Good luck, Slayer,” said the old dwarf. “Good luck to you all.”
Gotrek sneered and said nothing.
Suddenly Farnir stepped to Birgi. “Father, I’m going with them.” He turned and offered his wrists to Aethenir.
Birgi blinked, stunned. “Farnir, you have already risked much. Don’t be…”
“Did the stories you told me about brave dwarf heroes of old mean nothing?” asked Farnir insistently.
“Of course they did,” said Birgi. “But…”
“This is for the holds of our homeland,” said the young dwarf, backing away. “This is for the honour you told me we once had.”
“But… but it will fail, Farnir,” called Birgi, his face sagging with despair. “It won’t make any difference.”
“I’m sorry, Father. I must.” Farnir turned away, stone-faced, and allowed Aethenir to add him to the line of “prisoners”.
Gotrek laughed over his shoulder, scornful. “Ha! A beardling shames them. They should all shave their heads, the lot of them.” He turned away as Aethenir stepped to the head of the coffle. “Lead us out, elf. It stinks in here.”
Aethenir took a deep breath then stepped to the door and opened it. As Felix shuffled out after him with the others he cast a last look back at the four dwarfs who had stayed behind. They stood with their heads hung low, unable to look towards Gotrek or each other. He felt for them. Offered the choice of death and torture or serving as a slave, he wasn’t sure what he would have done, either.
Aethenir looked back at Felix and his other “prisoners” as they approached the gate. “Put your heads down, curse you,” he hissed. “Look defeated.”
Felix did as he was told, although the temptation to look forwards and see what was transpiring was hard to fight. He could tell by the tremor in the high elf’s voice that he was terrified—which made Felix terrified, for if Aethenir betrayed his fear to the guards they would be exposed, and that would be the end. They would be killed here, unable to defend themselves, and never find Max and Claudia or stop the sorceresses.
They were crossing a broad, cave-roofed plaza in front of the barracks area. Druchii spear and sword companies hurried past towards the gate, some bearing the wounded behind them on stretchers—casualties from fighting the pirates, Felix thought. Other companies marched out in quickstep behind their captains—looking for them, perhaps?
The barracks gate was a wide portcullised doorway with defensive towers on either side. It looked like the front of a castle built into the end of a cave. A double rank of well-armoured guards stood outside it, their captain passing companies in and out, and
a dozen archers walked an artillery platform above. As Aethenir and his line of slaves approached, the captain held up a hand and asked a question in the druchii tongue.
Aethenir answered, keeping his voice clipped and hard and, thankfully, remarkably steady. Felix couldn’t understand a word of the exchange, but he heard the high elf mention the names the old dwarf had give him—High Sorceress Heshor and Istultair, the captain of the Endless—and seem to make demands in their names. Felix had hoped that the magic of their exalted influence would usher them smoothly through the gate, but this did not happen. The guard captain seemed unimpressed, and walked down their line with his hands folded behind his back, examining them one at a time. He paid particular attention to Gotrek, and stopped at him again when he came back up the line. Gotrek’s fists clenched at the attention and Felix held his breath.
The guard captain turned away and said something to Aethenir in a sly tone. Aethenir answered haughtily but Felix could hear a tremor at the edges of his voice. It’s all going wrong, Felix thought, and sweat began to pour down his sides. The guard captain came back with a jovial yet menacing reply. Aethenir repeated his refusal, and the guard just shrugged and waved him away.
Aethenir paused, in what appeared to be angry indecision, then finally stepped to Gotrek. “Do not kill me, dwarf,” he murmured. “He requires a bribe.”
He reached out and began to tug on two of Gotrek’s smaller golden bracelets. Gotrek growled and jerked away. Aethenir cursed in the druchii tongue and slapped the Slayer hard on the ear. “Insolent cur,” he shouted in Reikspiel. “Dare you resist? You have no possessions! All that you are and own belongs to High Sorceress Heshor now!”
Felix nearly fainted. The Slayer was going to kill the high elf, and then they would be chopped to pieces by the guards. But amazingly, Gotrek held his temper, doing nothing more than grinding his teeth and balling his fists as the high elf pried the two bracelets from his wrists. Felix could see that the self-restraint required to keep still was nearly killing Gotrek. A vein pulsed dangerously in his forehead and his face was blood-red.
Aethenir tossed the bracelets to the guard captain as if they meant nothing to him, and the druchii bowed them through the gate.
“I will take the price of that gold out of your hide, elf,” growled Gotrek when they had passed out of earshot.
“I had no choice,” whimpered the high elf. “Surely you can see that.”
“You could have bargained better,” said Gotrek.
Inside the gate, they came into a large open parade square with a high roof and rows of doors and windows cut into the stone walls on either side—the barracks themselves—and passages leading off in every direction. The place was a swirl of activity—companies forming up in the square under the barked orders of baton-wielding captains, and other companies falling out and laying their wounded in neat ranks along one side as surgeons and healers and slaves moved among them. It reminded Felix of what one saw when one stirred up an ant hill, only much more orderly.
Birgi had told them that the barracks he and his crew had refitted for the use of the Endless was in a left-hand passage that opened off the far end of the parade ground. Felix swallowed nervously at the idea of walking shackled and unarmed through so many of the enemy, but thankfully, the druchii paid them no mind, except to shove them aside if they got in their way. Felix held his breath again, afraid that Gotrek would explode into violence at such treatment, but he kept his head down, muttering Khazalid curses all the while.
At the end of the square, Aethenir found the left-hand passage and they entered it. There was no one in it, and the noise of the parade ground fell away behind them as they turned a second corner into another row of barracks. Aethenir paused in the shadow of the passage and they looked out, examining the long corridor. Most of the barracks appeared to be unoccupied—the windows boarded up and the steps that led up to the doors dusty. The first two on the right, however, were freshly scrubbed, with new doors and open windows but, unsettlingly, no sign of activity.
“Strange,” said Aethenir. “I expected to see guards, or at least slaves.”
“Maybe they’re all inside,” said Jochen.
“Let’s have a look,” said Felix.
Aethenir got to work with his key and they all shucked their manacles. Gotrek opened the sack full of weapons and drew his axe from it while Felix pulled on his mail and buckled Karaghul around his waist. The pirates followed suit and they all crept forwards, only this time with Aethenir taking up the rear.
Felix and Jochen raised their heads and looked through the first window they came to. Inside was a barracks room like any other—except that the walls were carved from solid rock. Cots ran down each wall, each with a small iron-bound chest at its foot. There was one door at the back of the room and another in the side wall. A few slaves were cleaning the floor, and a few young druchii were sitting on the cots and polishing armour, boots and belts. The Endless were not there.
“Yer wizards might be behind one of them doors,” said Jochen when they had crouched down again.
“Let’s check the other barracks first,” said Felix.
They crossed to the second barracks and looked through those windows. These were clearly the officers’ quarters. There was a well-appointed entry way, the stone walls covered with ebony panelling and mounted with witchlights, and a central corridor leading away into darkness. No one was in sight.
“This one first,” said Felix.
Gotrek stepped to the door. It was unlocked. He pushed it open and stepped through. Felix, Aethenir, Farnir and Jochen’s pirates followed him in. They padded silently down the corridor. It had two lavishly carved doors on each side and a plain one at the far end. Felix and Aethenir listened at each of the carved doors in turn, but heard nothing. They continued on.
Gotrek listened at the door at the end of the hall, then tried it. It too was unlocked. A feeling of unease crept over Felix. They should have been challenged by now. They should have met some resistance.
On the other side of the door was a narrow set of stairs going down into darkness. Aethenir made a tiny ball of light with a snap of his fingers and Gotrek started down. Felix and the others followed.
They came down into a supply room, bedding and candles and sundries stacked in crates along the walls. At the far end of the room was a heavy door. There was a chair and a table outside it, and the remains of a meal drawing flies.
“That’s it,” said Gotrek, and started forwards.
Felix and the others crept along behind him, weapons at the ready. Felix held his breath, expecting hidden druchii to leap out of the shadows at every step. No attack came.
Gotrek put his hand on the latch and turned it. It opened easily. He threw the door wide, revealing blackness beyond.
Aethenir sent his light in before them. The room was small and bare but for two piles of filthy straw. Gotrek and Felix stepped cautiously inside. It smelled of urine and sweat and rotting food. There were grimy, blood-spattered rags on the floor. Some of them might have once been deep blue, others might have once been gold and white, but of Max and Claudia there was no sign.
SEVENTEEN
A druchii voice called a question behind them and they turned. A young dark elf stood upon the stairs, a witch-light torch in one hand.
Aethenir called to him, beckoning him forwards, but the youth, seeing them all with their weapons, sensed something wrong and ran back up the stairs, shouting warnings.
Felix cursed and sprinted after him, pounding up the stairs and into the hall. A door opened halfway down, and the youth, looking back towards Felix, ran smack into it and fell reeling to the ground. A slave looked out from the open door, then shrieked and darted back, slamming it behind him.
Felix pounced on the young druchii before he could recover himself and pinned him to the floor, putting his sword across his throat.
“The mages!” he hissed. “Where are they? Where have you taken them?”
The youth babbled
in the druchii tongue. Felix shook him. “Reikspiel, damn you!”
There were footsteps behind him and Gotrek and Aethenir joined him, followed closely by the pirates.
Aethenir asked something in the elf tongue and the youth stared at him, then spat on his boots. Aethenir kicked him in the ribs. Felix pressed his sword harder against the druchii’s neck. Gotrek stepped forwards and raised his axe over him, his single eye cold and dead.
The youth blanched at the sight of Gotrek and blurted out something. Aethenir asked a few more questions and got short replies.
He sighed and turned to Felix and Gotrek. “The sorceresses came and took them away several hours ago. The Endless went with them.”
“Where?” asked Felix. “Where have they gone?”
“He doesn’t know,” said the high elf. “Only that they took the stairs at the end of this avenue, which go only down.”
“Further down?” said Jochen, looking uneasy. “Let’s give up on these magisters.”
“What is below us?” asked Gotrek, ignoring him.
“The menagerie of the beastmasters,” said Farnir. “And those flesh houses reserved for officers and the nobility.”
Felix blinked. “Are they going to feed them to wild beasts? Are they going to…?” he couldn’t complete the thought.
The dwarf slave suddenly paled. His eyes widened. “It is rumoured among the slaves that there is a secret temple in the depths of the ark, with its entrance somewhere inside one of the flesh houses. They say many are taken there, never to return.”
“What sort of temple?” growled Gotrek.
“None dare say,” said the dwarf.
“A temple with an entrance in such a house can only serve one god,” whispered Aethenir, looking sick with fear.
“What house is it in?” Felix asked Farnir.
He shook his head. “I know not.”
“Then we’ll have to check every one,” said Gotrek.
“There are more guards before the stairs,” said Farnir. “You will need your disguises again.”
[Gotrek & Felix 10] - Elfslayer Page 27