2 valnirs bane

by ich du

  'Your men will wait out here,' said the captain of the count's guard. 'And you will hand over your sword and daggers.'

  Reiner did as he was told and the knight ushered him through the canvas flap.

  In the tent, Count Manfred Valdenheim was at his breakfast. He sat at a big table, wolfing down ham and eggs and ale while his generals stood around him, splendid in their brightly polished armour and colourful capes, debating positions and strategies on the map spread out under the count's plates and cups. Manfred was still in his small clothes and shirt, his hair rumpled from sleep. A soldier's camp bed heaped with furs sat unmade in one corner, the count's suit of gold-chased steel armour standing like a sentinel on a rack at its foot.

  The count was much like his younger brother in size and build, a large, barrel-chested man with the general aspect of an all-in wrestler, but where Albrecht's face had a cruel, shrewd cast, Manfred, with silver touching his temples and streaking his beard, had a kindly, bemused look. He seemed, in fact, almost too gentle to be the leader of a great army. But when the captain who had ushered Reiner into the tent whispered in his ear and he looked up, the ice blue gaze he turned on Reiner showed the steel beneath his fatherly exterior. He wasn't a wolf in sheep's clothing, thought Reiner, for he sensed that the count's easy nature was not a pretence, but rather a sheep who ate wolves for dinner - a man to be wary of, a man it would not be wise to lie to.

  'What news, courier?' he asked briskly.

  Reiner dropped to one knee, as much from exhaustion as deference. 'My lord, I have news of your brother which I am afraid you will not want to hear or wish to believe.'

  The generals paused in their muttering and looked up at him.

  Manfred lowered his knife and fork. 'Go on, my son.'

  Reiner swallowed. Now that it came time to speak, he was afraid to tell his tale. It seemed so damned implausible. 'My lord, a fortnight ago, I and my companions were ordered by your brother to escort the Lady Magda Bandauer, an abbess of Shallya, to a Shallyan convent in the foothills of the Middle Mountains, where she was to open a sealed vault and retrieve from it a battle standard of great power.'

  'Valnir's Bane,' said Manfred. 'I know of it, though the nuns always denied they had it.'

  'And well they might, my lord,' said Reiner. 'For it is no longer the mighty weapon for good it once was. The blood of Valnir has soaked into the very fibre of the banner and corrupted it, making it into a thing of great evil. But when we discovered this, Lady Magda was not dissuaded from taking it. Instead she attacked us with its malevolent power and escaped, killing our captain and leaving us to die.'

  Manfred raised an eyebrow.

  Reiner hurried on. 'My lord, at the beginning of the journey we were led to believe that your brother hoped to use the banner to aid you in retaking Nordbergbruche, but I believe now that this is not the case.'

  The generals muttered in consternation. Manfred waved them silent.

  'I do not wish to speak ill of your brother,' continued Reiner. 'But Lady Magda is an ambitious woman who longs for power, and I believe that under her influence, Albrecht has come to share her ambitions. It is my fear that he marches south under Valnir's Bane not to help you win back Nordbergbruche, but to take it for his own.'

  'Lies!' cried a voice as the generals erupted in angry babbling. 'It's all lies!'

  Reiner turned with the others.

  Standing in the tent's opening were Lady Magda, once again the stiff, stern sister of Shallya, and Erich von Eisenberg, resplendent in beautiful blued steel armour, a plumed helmet tucked under his arm. It was he who had spoken.

  SEVENTEEN

  The Banner Has Enslaved Them

  'THIS MAN IS a traitor and a murderer,' said Lady Magda, pointing at Reiner. 'Arrest him immediately.'

  'It is he, not the reverend abbess,' chimed in Erich, 'who tried to take the banner for his own. It is he who murdered the valiant Captain Veirt and nearly slew me when I came to Lady Magda's aid.'

  'My lord,' said Reiner, turning to Manfred. 'I beseech you. Do not believe them. They mean you ill...'

  'Enough!' cried Manfred. 'All of you.' He turned on Erich and Lady Magda. 'What is this intrusion? What is your business here?'

  Erich saluted. 'My lord, we come from your brother. He bids you a good morning and wishes to inform you that he is an hour away with a force of two thousand men. They are well rested and will be at your disposal upon their arrival.'

  The generals met these words with glad cries, but Manfred looked from Erich to Reiner and back with a scowl of uncertainty upon his brow. 'Until a moment ago I would have welcomed this news, for two thousand men will almost double our army, but now...'

  'My lord,' said Erich, 'you mustn't believe him. This man is a traitor, a convicted sorcerer, charged with a hundred murders by witchcraft.'

  'That isn't true, my lord,' countered Reiner. 'Your brother himself acknowledged that the charges against me were false.'

  'If that is so,' said Erich, 'then ask him to remove his left glove and explain the brand he wears there.'

  'You wear the hammer brand?' asked Manfred.

  Reiner pulled off his glove and raised his hand for Manfred to see. 'We all do,' he said. 'Baron Albrecht chose all the men for the mission in secret from the brig at Smallhof - more proof that his intentions were less than above board. He branded us all to make it more difficult for us to desert. Master von Eisenberg wears it as well.'

  Erich smiled. 'He convicts himself out of his own mouth, my lord.' He drew off his mailed gauntlet and held up his hand. 'I have no brand, as you can see.'

  Reiner stared. The back of Erich's hand was smooth and unblemished. The scar was gone. Reiner thought he saw a cruel smirk flash across Lady Magda's haughty face.

  'My lord,' Reiner cried. 'It was part of the bargain! Baron Albrecht promised us that he would have a sage of the Order of Light remove the brands when we returned with Lady Magda and the banner! Von Eisenberg is as much a criminal as any of us. He was to be hanged for murdering a child.'

  'He piles lie upon lie, my lord,' said Erich. 'He knows not when to stop.'

  'Nor do you, sir,' said Manfred, hotly. 'Now be silent both of you and let me think.'

  Reiner closed his mouth on further protests and watched as Manfred eyed them both appraisingly. Reiner groaned. Though he hoped against hope, he knew he had lost. Erich's last thrust had struck home, and even if it hadn't, he looked the hero of the piece, with his shining armour and handsome face, his golden beard and noble bearing, he was every inch a champion of the Empire. While Reiner, though he was loath to admit it, looked like a villain, with his half-starved, unshaven face, his unwashed black hair and gambler's moustache, his filthy, shredded clothes, his ancient, rusty sword. Even freshly scrubbed and impeccably dressed he had always looked a bit of a rogue. In his present condition, he looked the worst sort of guttersnipe, an alley-basher and ne'er-do-well.

  A knight burst through the tent flap. 'My lords! The Chaos troops are moving! They form up in front of the castle!'

  'What?' cried a general. 'They leave the protection of the castle? Are they mad?'

  'Mad indeed,' said Manfred, standing and wiping his mouth. 'They are warptouched. But there is method here.' He crossed to his armour, snapping his fingers for his valets to begin dressing him. 'If their look outs have told them of Albrecht's approach then they may mean to destroy us before we double our strength.' He looked at his generals. 'Call your men to arms. I will have all units in position within a half hour.'

  The generals saluted and filed out of the tent.

  The knight who had brought Reiner in stepped forward. 'My lord, what would you have me do with this one?'

  Manfred glanced up at Reiner as if he had already forgotten who he was. He waved a hand. 'Hold him and his companions until the battle is over. I will decide what to do with them later.' He turned to Erich and Lady Magda. 'Return to my brother. Tell him to advance with all possible speed.'

  Erich saluted. 'At once, my lo
rd.'

  As he and Lady Magda turned to leave, Erich caught Reiner's eye. He curled his lip in a triumphant sneer. Reiner tried to give him a rude gesture in response, but the knight grabbed his arm in a crushing grip and marched him out before he could get his fingers up.

  THERE WAS NO brig in the camp, so after they had been fed and their wounds seen to by a hurried field surgeon, they were placed under guard in a dry-goods tent behind the camp kitchen. They could see nothing but the sacks of flour they sat on and the jars of cooking oil and lard and the dried peas and lentils that were stacked around them, but through the thin canvas they could hear the cries and horn blasts of captains calling their companies to order, the thudding thunder of cavalry galloping by, the trot of infantry quick-marching into position to the sharp tattoo of regimental drums.

  Pavel and Hals fidgeted at the sounds like the old warhorses they were, turning at every new sound, longing to be part of the action. Oskar sat huddled in a corner, shivering. He had asked Reiner twenty times for a sip from Gustafs bottle, forgetting each time that Reiner had lost it in the tunnels. In another corner Giano cursed and muttered to himself in his native tongue.

  Reiner was too angry to sit. He paced back and forth between the hessian sacks.

  'Damn Manfred,' he growled. 'Damn Karl-Franz. Damn the whole bloody Empire! Here we are, a bunch of villians and ne'er-do-wells, going against our nature and our self interest to do them a good turn, to save them from not one, but two grave dangers and do they thank us? Do they heap riches at our feet, feed us oranges and ambrosia? No! They ignore our warnings and fit us for the noose again.' He kicked a pickle barrel. 'Well, I for one have finished playing at heroes. Chaos can take Karl-Franz, Count Manfred and all the other high-born fools. From now on I am no longer a citizen of the Empire. I will be free of its grim pieties and stifling stoicism. From now on, I will be a citizen of the world. Who needs Aldorf when I have Marienburg, Tilea, Estalia, Araby, even far Cathay and all the mysteries of the unknown east? I will drink deep of freedom and call for more.' He turned to his companions, fire in his eyes. 'Who's with me? Who wants to walk a free man in a place where the hammer brand means nothing?'

  The others stared at him, blinking.

  'That was quite a speech,' said Hals. 'Almost as good as the one y'gave us about being homesick if we left the Empire, when you wanted us to stay with you.'

  'Which one's the truth?' asked Pavel.

  Reiner frowned. He'd forgotten the other speech. 'Er, why, both. I don't say I won't be homesick. I will. Altdorf is where my heart is, but as the Empire has turned its back on us, I will turn my back on it. And I'll be damned if I'll be miserable doing it. I'll go laughing, and to the depths with them all.'

  Hals grinned. 'I hope y'never try to sell me a cow. I bet I'd end up giving ye my farm to buy it.'

  'He's right all the same,' said Pavel. 'The jaggers have done us down. We owe 'em no favours. I'm in.'

  'Oh, aye,' said Hals. 'Me as well.'

  'And me,' chimed in Franka.

  'You come to Tilea?' Giano grinned. 'I bring you my home. Cook you Tilean feasting, hey?' 'I certainly don't want to stay here.' said Oskar. 'I think they mean to hang us.'

  'Good lads,' said Reiner. 'So where shall it be first? We'll need to make some money before we travel too far.'

  'I vote for Marienburg,' said Hals. 'They speak our language. They pay good gold for willing pikes, and...' he nodded knowingly at Reiner. 'I hear their card-rooms rival Altdorf's.'

  Reiner smirked. 'Hardly. But it is a port city. From there we can go anywhere. Are we agreed?'

  The others nodded.

  'Excellent.' Reiner looked around. 'Then we should find a way out of this tent.' He crossed to the tent flap and peeked out. The two guards who were meant to be guarding them stood well away from the opening, craning their necks, trying to see over the intervening tents to the field of battle. The camp seemed otherwise deserted, doused campfires smouldering and pennants flapping limply in a fitful breeze.

  Reiner turned to his companions. 'Well, I don't think we'll have much trouble...'

  A hair-raising noise interrupted him. It was the sound of five thousand savage throats raised in unison, roaring a barbaric war cry. The ground shook beneath Reiner's feet, and the muffled reports of cannon buffeted the tent.

  'They've charged us,' said Franka. 'It's begun.'

  Pavel and Hals were rooted to the spot. Giano's eyes darted around, anxious. Oskar flinched.

  A second roar answered the first and the ground shook again. The noise rose to a continuous low rumble, pierced with shouts and trumpet blasts.

  Reiner peeked through the tent flap again. Their two guards had almost disappeared around the mess tent. Their whole posture said that they longed to be supporting their fellows, not stuck far behind the lines.

  Reiner turned back. 'Under the back wall. Our jailers will pay us no mind.' He paused as he saw Pavel and Hals's faces. They were stricken and grim. 'Have you changed your mind so soon?'

  The pikemen were tortured with indecision. It was obvious that the idea of leaving their countrymen to fight the Chaos troops alone was odious to them, but at the same time, their sense of honour and justice had been wounded.

  At last Hals shrugged. 'After the way they treated us? Let Chaos take them. I care not.'

  'Nor do I,' said Pavel, but Reiner could tell he felt uncomfortable saying it.

  'Then now is the time,' Reiner crossed to the back wall of the tent and began shifting sacks of flour out of the way. The others joined in. There was little danger of discovery. The air was filled with the sound of cannon fire, screaming horses, and the clash of arms.

  When the sacks were cleared they pulled up on the bottom of the canvas wall until they loosened a tent peg, then wormed through the gap. Reiner stood watch behind the tent as the others squirmed out behind him. They were close to the south edge of the camp, in the stem of the Y-shaped valley. The sounds of the battle came from the north.

  'Now,' said Reiner. 'Back to the road we came in on and west to Marienburg.'

  'Wait,' said Giano, dragging a flour sack out of the tent. 'Prepare this time.' The sack had been emptied of most of its flour and filled with various dry goods. He grinned at them as he slung it over his shoulder and gestured around at the nearby tents. 'Store is open.'

  Reiner smirked. 'You haven't a clear idea of the difference 'twixt mine and thine, do you, Tilean?'

  He shrugged. 'If they want, they would take with them.'

  Hals and Pavel scowled at him, but they joined in the hunt for weapons, clothes, armour, packs and cooking utensils. There was almost no one in the camp, only a few camp-followers and cooks - easily avoided, and though the soldiers had taken their main weapons to the battle, they had left all manner of swords and daggers, bows and spears behind. Reiner found a brace of pistols with powder and shot in a knight's tent. Oskar found a caisson full of handguns and took one, though he found it difficult to load with his left arm in a sling. Within the space of half an hour they were almost as well kitted out as they had been when Albrecht first freed them.

  They assembled at the edge of camp, dressed in the colours of half a dozen companies, weapons bristling from belts and scabbards, and bulging packs over their shoulders.

  'Now are we ready?' asked Reiner.

  His companions nodded, though Pavel, Hals and Franka looked a trifle uncomfortable to be wearing gear stolen from their fellow soldiers.

  'Then we march.'

  They followed the path that had led them to the camp not two hours before. They were still dead tired, but their confinement had allowed them something resembling rest, and they were at least alert.

  They had almost reached the village at the south end of the valley when Oskar pointed over the burned out buildings. 'Look.'

  Winding down the hill beyond the town was a column of marching men, spearpoints and helms aglitter in the morning sun. The head of the column was hidden within the town, but there was no question as to
whose army they must be.

  'Albrecht,' said Pavel.

  'Aye,' said Reiner. 'Come, we'll take cover 'til they pass.'

  They hurried to a blackened barn on the outskirts of the town and hid inside it. Almost instantly they heard the tramp of marching feet and the clop of hooves. They stepped to the walls and peered through the charred boards as the head of the column emerged from the town. First to appear were Albrecht, Erich and Lady Magda, leading a company of more than a hundred knights. Erich rode between the baron and the abbess on a white charger clad in shining barding, but though Albrecht was splendid in his dark blue armour and a scarlet-plumed helm, and the company of knights was a magnificent sight that should have filled the hearts of men of the Empire with pride, the sight of the blood-red banner that Erich held aloft, couched in his lance socket, killed all emotions except an all pervading dread.

  It was awesome and awful to look upon, slapping thickly against its pike, less like heavy cloth than a square of flesh cut from some umber giant, and though Reiner couldn't take his eyes off it, it was at the same time hard to look upon directly, for it radiated gloom and dread like a black sun. He felt at once physically sick, and at the same time compelled to join the column of men that followed it. Its power was a hundredfold greater than it had been in the crypt. Held by a hero at the head of an army, it had acquired at last its full allure. It tugged at Reiner like a magnet, and as he tore his eyes from it and looked around at his companions he could see that it affected them the same way. Pavel and Hals white-knuckled their spears. Franka and Giano stared, grimacing. Oskar was standing, stepping out from cover.

  'Get down, you fool,' hissed Reiner, pulling the artilleryman back by his jerkin. He was glad of the distraction. Anything to keep him from looking at the banner again.

  'Myrmidia,' breathed Franka. 'Look at them. The poor damned souls.'

  Reiner reluctantly peered again through the wall. The knights had emerged entirely from the town and now companies of pike, sword and gun were marching out after them. In a way it was the most ordinary sight in the world, soldiers of the Empire on the march - simple farmers, millers, blacksmiths and merchants taking up arms in a time of war as they had done for centuries. But there was something about them, something almost indefinable, that was repulsive. They marched well enough, almost perfectly in fact, all in step, ranks dressed neat enough to warm a sergeant major's heart, but there was something about their gait, something loose and boneless, that reminded of Reiner of sleepwalkers. They stared straight ahead, jaws slack, eyes glazed. Not one of them looked left or right, or squinted at the sun to judge the time, or talked to his companions, or scratched his backside. Their eyes seemed fixed on the banner before them. They hardly seemed to blink.