[Warhammer] - The Laughter of Dark Gods

by David Pringle (ed) - (ebook by Undead)

  Today, however, the routine was interrupted. Something was lying on the beach where it had washed ashore during the night. At first, as Tomas started toward it, it looked like a sodden bundle of rags. But as he drew closer, he realized that it was far more than that.

  “Brodie!” he shouted. “Come quick!” And he started running, his feet spraying sand.

  It was a body—thin, pale and frail—wrapped in a cloak soaked with seawater. The arms were stretched out, as if trying to cling to the sand beneath, and the face was turned to one side.

  As Tomas circled to get a better look, he saw that the features were not human.

  “By Ulric, it’s an elf woman!” he shouted, as Brodie came hurrying down from the cabin.

  The halfling reached the prostrate figure, kneeled, and gingerly touched his finger to the side of her throat. “Seems she’s still alive. Help me turn her on her stomach. Quickly, now.”

  Methodically, he started moving her arms and massaging her back, forcing seawater out of her lungs. For a long while, there was no sound other than the roar of the surf, the occasional cry of a gull and Brodie’s breathing as he worked hard on the unconscious figure. Finally, after Tomas would have been ready to give up, the elf woman stirred. She made feeble choking noises, coughed some water onto the sand, and tried to turn over.

  With gentle strength, Brodie sat her up. “Easy,” he said. “You’ll be all right, now. Easy.”

  She coughed again, then turned toward him, blinking in the sun. “Thank you,” she gasped. Her thin, delicate face widened in an attempt at a smile. Tomas saw that she seemed to be just a year or two older than himself. She was deathly pale, her hair was plastered flat to her head and there were dark circles under her eyes. Even so, she had an exquisite, fragile beauty.

  “Back to the cabin,” Brodie said. “You hold her under the arms, Tom, and I’ll lift her knees.”

  Together, they carried her across the sand. As they started up the path, she looked out at the ocean. “My brother,” she said weakly. “Still out there.”

  “One thing at a time,” said Brodie. He kicked open the door and laid her in front of the hearth. He threw two new logs on the fire, then turned back to her. “We’ll wait outside while you get your wet clothes off. Here, dry yourself with this,” he gave her a towel, “and then put this on.” He handed her a blanket.

  “Where do you think she came from?” Tomas asked, as he and Brodie left the cabin and pulled the door closed behind them.

  The halfling scanned the ocean. “Shipwreck. See the timbers there, just off the point?” He pulled out his spyglass and peered through it.

  “Two-masted brigantine. Must have run aground just before dawn. Smashed to pieces; there’s little of it left. The crew must have drowned.”

  “Maybe the wailing sound I heard,” said Tomas, “was the elf girl crying for help.”

  “No.” Brodie’s voice was a curt denial. He stowed the spyglass back inside his jacket and massaged his fleshy face. “Look, if you give that girl some hot food, I’ll take the row-boat out there for a look around, just in case.”

  “Won’t you need help?”

  “I can manage well enough. You take care of her for me. Will you do that?” His voice sounded unsure, almost plaintive. For some reason, he seemed to have lost his usual bustling confidence.

  Tom looked into the halfling’s eyes, and saw a trace of fear.

  The fire hissed and crackled. The elf maiden sat huddled in her blanket, sipping a mug of soup, while Tomas hung her clothes up to dry. “If your brother’s still alive, Brodie will find him,” he said. “He’s an expert seaman.”

  She stared into the embers of the fire. “If I am to face the truth, I have to admit my brother must be dead.” She sighed deeply. “He gambled, last night in Remas. Lost most of the money we’d made from trading our silks and yarns, then drowned his sorrows in wine before he set sail. And now, he’s drowned himself, as well.”

  There was a long, uneasy silence. “What’s your name?” Tomas asked.

  “Linna.” She turned her pale grey eyes toward him. “And you?”

  “Tomas Fenman.” As their eyes met, he felt strangely drawn toward her.

  He had never seen a human woman so delicately beautiful.

  “You live with a halfling,” she said. “How is that so?”

  “I never knew my parents. Brodie found me wrapped in a blanket when I was just a few months old. He took me in and cared for me.”

  “The halflings are well known for their hospitality.” She smiled faintly. “A generous people.”

  “Yes,” said Tomas.

  “And he makes a living as a fisherman?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you help him?”

  “Yes,” he said again. He felt annoyed, as if he ought to be able to think of more to say. But there was something unsettling about her steady stare and her questions.

  “It must be a dull life here for a strong, independent young man like you,” she said, looking frankly at his broad chest and muscled arms.

  “It isn’t dull at all,” he answered defensively. “I’ve studied to be a mariner—”

  “On your fishing boat, yes.” She shrugged. “I saw it anchored in the bay.”

  “When we trade our catch in the town,” he went on, “I earn money as an entertainer. I do backflips, and I juggle anything the crowd gives me. Stones, coins, even swords and daggers with bare blades.”

  She nodded thoughtfully, as if picturing it.

  “Some time, I hope to join a travelling carnival.”

  “But that would mean leaving your friend Brodie. He must be getting old, now. Nearing his hundredth birthday? I’m sure he needs your help here. And you seem a kind person. I think you’re too kind to abandon him. So if you dream of adventure, you must know, really, it can be no more than a dream.”

  Tomas felt suddenly angry—all the more because what she said was uncomfortably accurate. “I don’t think that’s any of your business.”

  “Oh.” She looked down into her lap, and then nodded to herself. “You’re right, I spoke without thinking. I am upset about what has happened. My brother is gone; our ship and crew are gone; I have nothing left. I apologize for offending you.”

  Tomas’ anger left him abruptly. “It doesn’t matter.” He shifted uncomfortably. “If there’s something I can do?”

  “You could sit here beside me,” she said. “Your presence might be a comfort.”

  He joined her on the cot. He felt himself grow tense, reacting to the nearness of her beauty. He didn’t quite trust himself to look at her.

  “Thank you,” she said. She rested her head on his shoulder, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and closed her eyes.

  Minutes passed. From her breathing, Tomas realized she had gradually fallen asleep. After a while, he carefully moved her so that she lay stretched out on her back. She muttered something, but didn’t wake up. He laid another blanket over her, then paused and looked at her. Her face was serene in sleep. The curve of her neck lay revealed beneath her tangled blonde hair. How could someone who battled storms in the Great Western Ocean seem so fine and frail?

  When the halfling came back to the cabin he was weary and dejected. “No sign of her brother.” He eyed the elf girl, still sleeping soundly. “There’s a few things worth salvaging, but I’ll need your help, Tom.”

  “Shall we wake her?”

  “No, best not.” Brodie glanced around. “We’ll keep an eye on the place from outside.”

  Tomas frowned. “What are you afraid of?”

  Brodie slapped his belly. “Afraid? Me? Hah.” He took Tomas’ arm. “Come on. She’ll be fine.” But his eyes still moved quickly, checking every shadow.

  By late afternoon they had recovered the ship’s log—which was in an elven script that neither of them could read—and some food supplies in small wooden crates. They returned to the cabin, woke Linna, and Brodie cooked a meal.

  The food seemed to
revive her. She told them something of her home life on an island she said was called Ulthuan, where she had lived in one of the elven kingdoms. Her parents had been traders who had died unexpectedly in a typhoon that sank their ship. She and her brother had tried to continue the trade alone, and had scraped by for a couple of years. The two of them had made the hard voyage from Ulthuan to the Tilean Sea half a dozen times or more.

  As the sun set over the ocean, turning the sky gold, Brodie broke out a keg of rum. He started telling some of his old sea stories, of lost treasure, piracy and giant serpents that could swallow a ship and all the crew besides. “But that’s not the half of it,” he went on, happy as only a halfling could be when his belly was full with ample quantities of food and drink. “Why, there are creatures to the north, in the Sea of Claws, that would eat such a serpent for breakfast.” He bent toward Linna, as if sharing a deep, dark secret. “Did you ever hear of a mariner by name of Richard Crowell?”

  “I know little of human legends,” Linna said.

  This man was no legend. Fifteen years ago—maybe a little more—it was a bad summer. Day after day the skies were dark with storm clouds, the land was wet and cold, and the nights seemed longer than they had any right to be. There was talk that the creatures from the underworld were rising up against us. Babes were carried off by griffons, even hereabouts in the Tilean cities, and beastmen were seen roaming the hillsides. People were scared to go out even by light of day.”

  Tomas had heard this story too many times before. He stifled a yawn.

  “Well, Richard Crowell gathered together the best swordsmen, the bravest fighters. He routed the creatures of darkness from their caves and tunnels underground, and he found sorcerers who would use their magic to strip the monsters of their spells. He made Remas safe for honest folk to live in once again. And then, not content with that, he led an expedition up the coast, across the Middle Sea, to the Sea of Claws. He’d heard that this was where the evil beasts were coming from, and he wanted to stop them at their source.”

  There was a short silence. “And what happened?” Linna asked politely.

  “Oh, there were battles the like of which you cannot imagine. All manner of flying things, creatures with tentacles instead of heads, humans that were half man, half woman—there was a screaming and a wailing, a gnashing of fangs and a beating of wings.” Brodie paused. “Well, that’s what I was told. I wasn’t there myself, you understand.”

  Linna smiled. “No, I suppose not.”

  Brodie finished his rum. “We halflings are simple folk. A warm home and a full belly, that’s all the excitement we need.”

  “And what of Richard Crowell?” she asked.

  Brodie’s mood became more sombre. “Some say he succumbed to the evil forces he pitted himself against, after he made landfall and ventured into Norsca. But no one really knows.”

  “Norsca?” Linna’s eyes narrowed. “I’ve never been there. It’s a faraway place.”

  Brodie set his glass down abruptly. “Indeed it is. So far away, I wonder why we’re wasting our time talking about it.”

  “How do you—”

  “Just stories I’ve heard, that’s all.” He stood up. “I declare, it’s past my bedtime.” He belched and steadied himself against the table, then yawned loudly. “You should bed down for the night in Tomas’ room, my dear. He and I can sleep in here.”

  She rose gracefully to her feet. “Thank you.” She smiled at Brodie, then turned to Tomas and took his hand. “It was a special pleasure to meet you, Master Tomas.”

  Her touch was cool and light, yet he felt a wave of warmth spread from her hand to his. “Good night,” she said, looking into his eyes.

  “Good night,” he answered dumbly. Neither he nor Brodie said anything more until she had left the room and closed the door behind her.

  “I don’t know, Tomas,” the halfling said finally. He threw a thick overcoat onto the floor in front of the fire, then stretched out on it on his back. “Hard to tell, whether things are what they seem.”

  Tomas knew from the halfling’s slurred speech, but this was no time to pay much attention to his ramblings. “Will you be all right sleeping down there?” he asked.

  “Right as rain.” Brodie yawned again.

  Tomas lay down in Brodie’s cot and pulled a blanket over himself. He stared at the wooden ceiling, watching it flicker in the light from the fire. He imagined Linna in the other room, in his bed. Had it been an invitation, the way she’d looked at him when she said good night? No, she must still be grieving over the loss of her brother. If he went creeping in to see her now, he’d just be making a fool of himself.

  He tossed and turned in the narrow bed, while Brodie snored where he lay on the floor in front of the fire. Tomas kept seeing Linna’s face. Even when he finally fell asleep, she was in his dreams.

  Tomas felt a hand on his shoulder. He woke with a start, looked up, and saw a shadowy figure bending over him. It was Linna, he realized, and she was fully dressed. “There’s someone outside,” she whispered. “Quickly. Come and look.”

  The fire had died down until it lit the room with a dim red glow. Brodie still lay in front of it, snoring, his hands clasped across his stomach. Tomas considered waking him—but the halfling was in a stupor, sated with food and drink.

  Linna went quickly to the window beside the door of the cabin. Tomas lit the oil lamp and carried it over to her. “Someone knocked on the window of my room,” she explained. “It was so dark outside, I couldn’t be sure.”

  Tomas held the lamp up high and peered through the rippled glass. He saw a ragged figure standing in the night, his clothes soaked with seawater. He raised his hand imploringly, and his mouth opened as though he was trying to speak.

  Linna pressed her face to the glass. “It is my brother!” She ran to the door, her eyes wide with excitement. She lifted the oak bar and dropped it with a thump on the floor.

  Brodie muttered something and rolled over. He opened his eyes and squinted in the light. “What?”

  Linna was already tugging the door open. A gust of icy air wafted in, making the flame in Tomas’ oil lamp flutter. “Corma!” she called. “It’s really you!”

  “Wait,” said Tomas, as she started out of the cabin. There was a strange odour in the cold night air. He sensed that something, somehow, was wrong.

  “Wha’s going on?” Brodie sat up. He saw the open door, and Linna stepping into the night. “Hey!” he shouted. “Stop there!”

  But it was too late. In the flickering light from the oil lamp, Tomas saw the elf girl throw herself into her brother’s arms. But her moment of joy turned instantly to horror. As Tomas watched, the figure of her brother changed hideously. Linna screamed in panic and started struggling to free herself from the tight embrace.

  One of the arms that clutched her had turned into a huge purple crab’s claw. The other was a brown tentacle, coiling around Linna’s waist. A lumpy, fur-covered body literally burst out of the sodden clothes, and a razor-edged reptilian tail thumped onto the ground and started lashing from side to side. The creature’s feet were hooves, and its face contorted until it looked like the head of a bear, with bulbous, bulging eyes and black horns that sprouted from its forehead.

  It growled, revealing long, curved, yellow fangs. Its breath steamed in the cold air.

  “Vile thing!” Brodie shouted. “Let her go!”

  Tomas turned and saw that the halfling had struggled up onto his feet. He was clutching the flint dagger that he normally wore on a thong around his neck.

  The creature picked Linna up with its tentacle and tossed her across its shoulders. It tilted its head back, uttered a long, wailing cry, then strode away into the blackness.

  Tomas was trembling. The wailing cry was the very same sound that he’d heard the previous night.

  “Tomas! Help!” Linna cried. Her voice was almost lost on the wind.

  Clouds were covering the moon, and the light from his lamp reached no more than a dozen
feet. Summoning all his courage, Tomas stepped into the darkness.

  Something ran in front of him: a deformed near-human shape with green, leathery skin. Another joined it. Goblins, he realized. They stood barring his path, hissing menacingly.

  “Tomas!” Linna called again, and he saw her briefly silhouetted against the stormy sky as the beast carried her down the path to the beach.

  In despair, Tomas hurled the oil lamp. His aim was true: the lamp hit the creature in the back of its legs and smashed, scattering droplets of fire. The thing cried in pain, and for a moment seemed about to drop the elf girl. But then it continued on its way, disappearing into the night.

  Brodie appeared beside Tomas. He drew his rusty sword from its cracked leather sheath and brandished it at the goblins. “Begone!” he shouted.

  They hissed again and started forward.

  Brodie raised his sword above his head. Tomas saw that the halfling’s hands were shaking. “I’m warning you!”

  The goblins continued toward him with their teeth bared and their claw-like fingers extended. And then, without warning, they stopped still, as if there had been a noise that only they could hear. Suddenly they turned and ran off into the darkness, leaving Brodie and Tomas alone in the night.

  Brodie sheathed his sword. He shook his head as if to clear it, then grabbed Tomas’ arm. “Quickly. Back inside.”

  Dazed, Tomas allowed himself to be led toward the door. “But we have to save her,” he protested.

  “No.” Brodie hauled him bodily into the cabin.

  Tomas pried at the halfling’s fingers. “Let me go!”

  “That thing has powers you’ve never dreamed of. And you don’t even have a weapon to defend yourself.”

  “You mean we’re just going to do nothing? You want us to hide like cowards?”

  Brodie slammed and barred the door. He glowered at Tomas. “You’d see the sense of it, if you knew what I know.”