by ich du
'Let the seer rest today,' Ruprecht advised. 'You have called on him many times since we crossed into these barren lands.'
'What use is a seer who can't scry?' asked Marius, walking towards the door. 'Bring him up here after breakfast and I will talk to him.'
'Breakfast?' laughed Ruprecht. 'Cold beef and bad water, that's what we'll be having.'
'Feed on faith, Ruprecht,' Marius said. 'Feed on faith.'
MANY WITCH HUNTERS were wary of using seers, seeing them as little better than the tainted creatures they hunted. Marius was more pragmatic. He had first met Filandantis in Nuln, where he had come to the witch hunter with news of a cult of the pleasure god operating from inside the count's own palaces. He had subjected the seer to the Seven Tests of Purity: swearing an oath on the Book of Sigmar; dousing his head with blessed water; recounting the fourteen trials of Sigmar whilst holding a holy icon; spending a day fasting before feeding on a loaf baked with flour from a cathedral's mills; a drop of his blood was weighed against a drop of blessed water and found to be the same; after a day of prayer he passed his hand unflinching through the flame of a shrine candle; and slicing his hand with a silver dagger, the wound being inspected the next day for signs of putrefaction. All of these things Marius subjected him to once a year, and by the traditions of the Sigmarite church and his own order, the seer was deemed untouched by the dark gods. Still, there were those in the church who would not sanction the use of magic for any purpose. Marius thought them fools for being shortsighted.
In the end, Marius decided to go down and see the visionary rather than wait for him to be brought up. Filandantis was camping in a small white, conical tent slightly away from the knights. Pulling open the tent flap, Marius was greeted by a waft of incense smoke. It was one of the sources of irritation to the witch hunter that an entire pack pony was needed for the mystic's supplies, but there was little Marius could do if he wanted to retain the man's services.
The seer was sitting on a prayer mat in the middle of the tent, a burning incense pot in front of him. He had a thin face, heavily wrinkled, and a wispy moustache and beard hung down to his chest. He was swathed in woollen robes and cloaks, though his feet were bare and looked frostbitten. His eyes were open but unfocussed, and Marius knew that Filandantis was not looking at him as he entered. He sat down next to the seer and waited. There was no point breaking the trance, there were too many tales of daemonic possession, madness and physical injury caused by such a rash act. As it was, it was not long before the seer's glazed look disappeared and he blinked heavily several times before looking at Marius.
'Why are you here?' the old man snapped.
'You are the seer, don't you know?' Marius replied.
'I don't need my gift to know you are here to pester me for another sight of the witch and her lover,' muttered Filandantis. 'You have badgered and hounded me for this last week, and I tell you, as I told you yesterday and the day before and the day before that, I cannot see again yet. My gift is like a well. If you drink too much from it, you risk running it dry. It needs time to fill again, and for that I must rest, which is a commodity I have had precious little of these last four months.'
'You complain endlessly about the poor conditions, and yet you still come with me.' remarked Marius, standing up.
'I can't very well make it back on my own now, can I?' said the seer, closing his eyes. 'Besides, I could have stayed in Nuln all those years ago, but I suspect that by now I would have been strapped to a stake by an overzealous member of your order.'
'Your time is running out, we head off tomorrow and I need to know where we march.' Marius warned him.
'That's easy, if you were just to think for a moment.' Filandantis replied. 'We have headed northwards for two months now, with hardly a change. Head north, van Diesl, and you will be getting closer to your prey.'
CHAPTER THREE
Beasts
Troll Country, Early winter 1709
'I STILL SAY you panic,' said Jakob, dusting snow from his furs and dropping a pile of sticks at Kurt's feet. 'It one dream, it mean nothing.'
'I trust Ursula,' Kurt argued, sitting up on his blanket. 'She tells me that her visions have always come true, and there's no reason to doubt it this time. Every vision she has had so far has proven true.'
'She just say she see you fighting the witch hunter,' Jakob said. 'Does not mean he find us at Tungask, no need to run so soon. Why you believe her? Why you trust Sigmar? Have I not proven my gods are the strong ones? Did I lead you to Tungask with their help? Where Sigmar then? You let that woman lead you by the nose like pony.'
'I don't know why she didn't have any visions until yesterday,' Kurt said, exasperated. 'You both keep telling me to believe in this, or trust you. I don't know what to think.'
'Even if vision true,' Jakob conceded with a deep shrug, 'does not mean you lose fight with Marius.'
'I will not risk Ursula again!' Kurt said, stepping away. 'I want her as far away from that monster as possible.'
'She trouble, she keep saying to turn back,' Jakob said, grabbing Kurt's shoulder and turning him round. The former knight shoved him away with a growl.
'Never say that again!' he said. 'Remember that she's the reason I left the Osterknacht, and she's the reason I have been running all this time. Not you! You have helped us to survive, but I have never asked you to stay.'
Jakob muttered something inaudible, grabbed the firewood and ducked out of the tent. Outside it was bitterly cold and he could smell more snow on the wind. Already it was knee deep, and the winter was just beginning. It was a bad time to head north; Jakob knew that. He had come south this way in the summer and had found it difficult, even though he had been raised in the mountains of Norsca and was used to months without the sun and freezing conditions.
He looked with contempt at the smaller of the two tents, where Ursula slept. She had demanded that she not share with either of the men. Kurt was a fool for letting her lead him round by the nose. A good beating would soon quell her fierce spirit and allow the ex-knight to bed her. But he was still smitten with her, and Jakob knew that if he so much as lifted a fist against the wench Kurt would do him great injury. He also knew that there might be some truth to these visions she claimed to have. There was a definite air about her, a vibrancy close to her that he could feel. Raised in the north and used to the power of great warriors and sorcerers, it was a slightly sickly sensation he felt when she was close.
A howl in the distance attracted Jakob's attention and he listened to the night for a few moments. It was repeated, from further north, where a dark forest stretched across their route. They were camped in a small dell rimmed with pines, a tiny spring at its centre. He had heard the elders of his people speak of a great place to the south where there was no water and the ground was as dry as bone. His forefathers had sailed that far south and sacked the cities of the land called Arbarec, which he had learnt was called Araby in the Empire. The waterless sea was known as desert, and the sands stretched for weeks in every direction. The copse they were staying in reminded him of the oases he had learnt about, a small paradise of water and shelter in a desolate wilderness.
He would like to see a real oasis, Jakob decided. When he returned with Kurt to his tribe, he would teach the warrior how to fight properly, in true Norse style. Then he would get Kurt to challenge for leadership, and when he won, he would become the chieftain, with Jakob as his shaman. When that happened he would use his influence to get Kurt to sail south and take the gold and gems from the Arabians and live in luxury. It was a good dream, but one that was unlikely to come true as long as the redheaded bitch still argued against Jakob's plan. He needed Kurt to be malleable, easily influenced. At first he had simply accompanied the knight because he had felt a touch of greatness about him. Now Jakob was more certain that Kurt could achieve remarkable things if taught well. And Jakob would be there to reap the rewards when the time came.
There was little Jakob could do though, while the girl r
emained under Kurt's protection. He had tried all he could to divide the two, and though they bickered and fought more than ever, he felt that the bond between them was still strong. Other than that, Kurt had proved to be an able student, despite the protestations of his woman. He had learned Jakob's language well, and he could curse like a sailor in the Skaerling tongue. Jakob could feel the gods' favour growing; there were powers surrounding the young warrior that even Kurt was beginning to sense. Here in the north, under the breath of the gods, great men could become greater.
For all the bad memories of his childhood and exile, Jakob felt proud to be returning. The air here was clear, and tonight the cloudless night was bright with the light of the twin moons. There was Esdra, the white moon; the eye of the wolf that Kurt called Mannslieb. Esdra was the sailor's moon, predictable and constant to navigate by. Then there was Jandra, the red moon; the sorcerer's baleful eye that was known in the south as Morrslieb, after the god of death. Jakob had laughed when he had heard that Jandra shone green in the south, but it had been true. Perhaps, like the Norse themselves, the shaman's guide looked down on the southern lands with jealousy.
It was while he was meditating on the strange ways of the world that his attention was drawn to the chorus of howls erupting from the woods. Instantly alerted, he recognised the wolf calls as warnings to each other. There was something in the woods that had spooked the packs and they were shouting to each other to get out of its way. Fearing the worst, Jakob called for Kurt and Ursula.
The pair poked their heads out of the tents at almost the same time.
'Listen.' Jakob told them, and they did as he said for a short while.
'You think the wolves might attack?' Ursula asked, stepping out of the tent.
'No, they're scared.' Kurt corrected her, ducking back into the tent and emerging with his sword belt and shield.
'You hear that?' Jakob asked, eyes wide with awe.
'It's this place, I can feel their fear in the air.' Kurt answered. He looked up into the skies and closed his eyes, resting his shield at his feet and strapping on his sword. There was another flurry of howls and then the air fell silent.
'It's left the forest.' Kurt announced, opening his eyes. 'The wolves are glad to see it go.'
'Kurt, you're scaring me.' Ursula said, cautiously approaching him. He looked at her and smiled.
'Get your sword and remember what I taught you.' he said. 'You know how to look after yourself.'
'I didn't mean that.' Ursula said, looking at him oddly. 'You are scaring me, not whatever is coming this way. Something is happening to you.'
'Do you remember your first vision?' Kurt asked, walking towards the lip of the wide dell.
'Yes, it was painful, like my eyes were on fire.' Ursula told him. 'Why?'
'I feel a bit like that.' Kurt told her. 'I feel like I'm waking up, after a life of being half-asleep. This place, it feels like home.'
'It is not your home!' she said shrilly, grabbing her sword from inside the flap of her tent. It had a narrower blade than Kurt's broadsword, useful for someone of her slender build and natural speed.
'I didn't say that.' Kurt called back. 'Don't worry, we'll head south after the winter snows pass. Now, get up the other side and keep watch. Kharghash, where's Jakob got to?'
The Norscan was nowhere to be seen, though a line of footprints led out between the tents and out of sight.
'What did you say?' Ursula said sharply.
'Did you see where Jakob went?' he repeated.
'No, that word you used.' Ursula said.
'Word?' Kurt paused to recollect what he had said. 'Oh, I'm sorry, it's just a curse Jakob taught me. It means Khar's blood.'
'Well don't say it again, it sounds like blasphemy to me.' she snapped back.
They waited in tense silence as clouds swept across the skies and the howling of the wind grew louder. The chill air had turned and Kurt moved out of the dell, taking Ursula with him, walking a short way northeast.
'Where are we going?' she asked as they hid amongst the snowdrifts.
'Wind's shifted.' he explained quietly. 'It'll attack from downwind, which means that whatever is out there will probably come this way if he can smell the camp. I'd rather catch it out here in the open.'
'Any sign of Jakob?' Ursula asked, looking around.
Kurt didn't answer. There was a scent on the air, very faint, but still noticeable. It was the stench of rotting flesh. Rising from his hiding place, he looked around. The fitful moonlight did little to relieve the gloom, but there was something moving out of the darkness. Over the noise of the wind, Kurt's ears caught the sound of sniffing and growling.
'Stay here.' he whispered before moving forward, crouching low. He advanced slowly through the snow, sword ready, all his attention focussed on the lighter shadow that stood out against the blackness of the distant forest. It was large, taller than him, and moving at some pace. When the creature stopped, he saw that it was in fact stooped over and running on all fours. Getting closer, he saw that the thing was covered in patches of long fur, its arms almost reaching to its knees.
The monster lifted its head and sniffed the air. Kurt froze. The beast's head swayed to the left and right, searching the breeze, before dropping back on all fours. It was undoubtedly a troll. Though he had never seen one, Kurt had listened to Jakob's descriptions of the semi-intelligent beasts. The gangling limbs, the horns and long claws, all were matched by the creature in front of him. Kurt began to relax as the troll started to shuffle away, when suddenly Ursula's voice cut through the air, calling for him. The troll reared up once more, growling loudly. It gave a strange barking shout, which Kurt realised was more a crude language than just an animal cry, and started lumbering straight towards him. There was an answering roar from behind, where Ursula was, and Kurt suddenly realised that was the reason Ursula had cried out. There was at least one other troll out there.
Cursing himself for a fool, Kurt rose and ran. He heard a roar from behind him and glanced back to see the troll lumbering forward before dropping to all fours and bounding through the snow with surprising speed.
'This way!' he shouted out, plunging through a snowdrift and almost losing his footing. Ursula raced out of the darkness, her pale face twisted with fear. They were barely ten yards apart when a massive shape loomed up behind her, three long arms held high, one clawed hand gripping a crude club.
'Watch out!' screamed Kurt as he hurled himself forward even faster, his lungs fit to burst. Ursula dived forwards and rolled through the snow, the club thumping down in a shower of snow and frozen dirt. She rolled to her feet and sprang forward as a claw swiped through the air just behind her. The two of them ended up back to back, and a guttural shout to Kurt's right heralded the approach of a third troll. He wracked his brains to remember what Jakob had told him.
'Jakob said that we have to keep moving, they're not very quick on their feet,' Kurt told Ursula, shifting his grip on his shield and stepping forward. 'Circle round them, keep them turning.'
The trolls closed in more slowly now that their prey had slowed, grunting to each other in their basic tongue, pawing at the ground and throwing clods of earth into the air.
'What are they doing?' Ursula asked.
'Sizing each other up, I think,' Kurt said. When he had gone hunting as a child, he had once watched two bears confront each other. They had reared up on their hind legs and stretched to their full height to see who was biggest. 'They're not a pack, they've all followed the scent separately.'
'Can we run for it?' Ursula asked, backing away to her right, away from the troll approaching her, just half a dozen yards away.
'No, they'll beat us over open ground,' Kurt replied, trying to circle to keep the other trolls in view at the same time. 'We should have stayed amongst the trees.'
The stand-off lasted for a few heartbeats more and then the troll in front of Kurt took a jump forward.
'We'll go for your one!' snapped Kurt, spinning around and chargin
g towards the troll behind him.
Ursula split to the left while he headed right, and the creature was confused for a moment, unsure which of them to go for. Kurt shouted to attract its attention and its heavy head swung his way, its mouth opening to reveal a ragged row of fangs dripping with bloody saliva. The smell was terrible this close to the carnivores, but Kurt concentrated on his attack, swinging his sword high towards the monster's arm. It swung up a fist to block the attack and the blade cut deep, slicing through the flesh and spilling dark blood across the snow. The creature did not even pause, swinging its claws in a backhand sweep that slammed into Kurt's shield and threw him to his back. It loomed over him, but Ursula ducked in and slashed at its calves before leaping away again, giving Kurt time to regain his footing. There was a rip scored into his shield across its entire width, the splinters of metal scattered over the snow.
The second troll came charging in, and Kurt scrabbled through the snow, to put the wounded troll in the way. Coming face to face with each other, the two trolls roared at one another and the wounded one lashed out. Kurt noticed that it was no longer bleeding, and a thick scab was already forming over the cut. Jakob had said they were tough to kill, but they seemed nearly indestructible.
Kurt jumped at the wounded troll and drove his sword halfway to the hilt into its back. It gave a howl and spun, but Kurt had plenty of time to drag his sword free and leap clear. More thick blood splashed into the snow for a second, but the flow stopped within moments. Sidestepping to his right, Kurt circled quickly and brought his sword down in a vicious slash that carved into the troll's shoulder. It gave a grunt of pain and turned, but Kurt could see that like the first wound, the cut was already beginning to heal. Trying again, he dodged under a backhanded swipe by the beast and drove his swords into its gut. Only the tip of his blade penetrated its thick skin, and a tiny dribble of thick blood oozed out. Kurt realised they were in serious trouble. He and Ursula might have been able to kill one of the beasts, but three of them were going to be all but impossible.