[Warhammer] - The Laughter of Dark Gods

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

  Tomas was barely listening. “It took her, Brodie. It just took her away.”

  Brodie stumbled to the bed and sat down heavily. With hands that still shook he lit a candle. “The beast you just saw was once a man. It got deformed when it chose to serve the… Dark Powers.”

  Tomas frowned. “It looked just like an elf, at first.”

  “That was magic. It disguised itself, see, with a spell of illusion, to tempt the elf girl out. But my dawnstone, here, showed it for what it was.” He patted the wedge of flint that hung around his neck.

  “Dawnstone?”

  “It’s enchanted. Has the power to undo the effects of magic.”

  He shook his head grimly. “I only wish I’d used it sooner, to reveal the beast before she went to it.”

  Tomas reached out and touched the dawnstone. It was cold and smooth. His fingers slid over its polished surface. “I always thought it was just a flint dagger. Where did you get it?”

  Brodie chewed for a moment on his lower lip. He gave Tomas a sidelong glance. “Well, we don’t need to talk about that now. You had a nasty shock out there. A terrible tragedy. Let’s brew some tea, and—”

  “I want to know the truth,” Tomas said firmly. “What happened out there? How did you get the dawnstone? How do you know all these things about creatures and dark forces?”

  The halfling fidgeted uneasily. “I was there, see,” he said in a low voice. “With Crowell and his crew.”

  “In the Sea of Claws?” Tomas stared at him with disbelief.

  The halfling shrugged. “I was only the ship’s cook. Never was a fighter. But the fact is, Tomas, you were there too.”

  For a moment, they stared at each other. Then Tomas laughed uncertainly. “I don’t understand.”

  “You were a babe, so you don’t remember. But Richard Crowell, he was your father. Your mother was killed only a week after you were born—killed by a beastman. That was the real reason for Richard’s quest: he wanted revenge against the things that had taken his young wife away. Oh, but it was much harder than he’d thought it would be. He anchored his fleet off the coast of Norsca, told me to stay on board ship and take good care of you, and went ashore with his army. He promised to come back if he could. But he never did. Only one of his men survived long enough to get back to the ship, and he told us terrible stories about the creatures they’d seen on land, with terrible magical powers. He died from his wounds just a few hours later, and the crew were so scared they set sail right away, heading back south.”

  Tomas felt stunned by what he heard. At the same time, he felt a growing sense of excitement after so many years spent wondering about his parents. “This is really true?”

  The halfling nodded. He grasped the dawnstone and lifted it over his head on its leather thong. “Richard knew I wasn’t a fighter, so he gave me this stone for protection. His wife had worn it, back before—before she was taken. Richard had another one just like it, which he kept himself. A matched pair, very rare indeed.”

  “This one used to belong to my mother?”

  “Indeed it did. Here, you need it now more than I do.”

  Tomas held the stone in both hands. “I wish you’d told me all this before, Brodie.”

  “It was best you didn’t know.” The halfling gave Tomas another quick, guilty look. “If you’d known the truth, you might have done something rash, maybe even got it into your head to run away looking for your dad.”

  Tomas nodded slowly, saying nothing.

  “I wanted the best for you, Tomas. I cared for you as if you were my own.”

  “I—I know that.” Tomas stared at the stone, expecting to see his reflection in the shiny black surface; yet somehow it seemed to absorb all the light that fell on it.

  “If you ever think there’s magic being used against you,” the halfling said, “you take hold of that stone. You have to grasp it in your fist. Yes, like that. Just hold it, so.”

  “All right. I’ll remember.”

  “Now put it on for safe keeping.” He watched closely while Tomas looped the leather thong around his neck and dropped the stone inside his jerkin. “You see, it’s you they really wanted, tonight.”

  Tomas looked up in surprise. “Me?”

  Brodie stood up and paced across the room. He poked nervously at the fire, sending sparks flying up the chimney, then paced back again, the floorboards creaking under him. “All these years I’ve been watching and waiting, expecting them to come for you. Your father must have hurt them badly, before they killed him, and they’ll not forget it. Revenge; that’s what they’re after.”

  “Then why did they take Linna instead of me?” Even as he spoke, he saw again the awful spectacle of the elf girl being dragged away into the darkness.

  “I reckon they found her brother, last night. Maybe took him off the wreck. They would have got her too, but she swam for safety and didn’t reach the shore until it was almost light. They don’t like the light of day. So they bided their time until it was dark again, then lured her out, hoping you’d follow.”

  Once again, he started pacing to and fro. “We’re not safe here, Tomas. That dawnstone protects against magic, but it’s no use against brute force, and I’m not much of a fighter, and you’ve never learned swordplay.”

  He shook his head ruefully. “First thing tomorrow, we’ll pack everything into the boat and set sail. Find us a quiet little haven—maybe in the Estalian kingdoms, on the Southern Sea. The winters are warm down there, and there’s nary a creature of darkness to be seen. What do you say, eh?”

  Tomas looked at the halfling in confusion. “You mean—you’ll let them drive us out of our home here?”

  Brodie laughed bitterly. “You think we have any choice? Look at us, what’s a pair like us going to do against the forces of darkness?”

  Tomas stood up slowly. His face was grim and brooding. He walked to the window and stared out into the night.

  “Come away from there.” Brodie spoke sharply, but at the same time, there was a fearful, pleading sound to his voice.

  Tomas remained where he was. “She might still be alive.”

  “Her? Alive?” The halfling laughed without any humour. “They’ll have drunk her blood by now. That’s the terrible fact of it, Tomas. They make that wailing noise when they’re hungry. The man who was with Crowell’s army, he told us these things before he died, don’t you see?” He went over and tugged at Tomas’ shirt. “Let’s get our rest. We’ll need it for tomorrow. We’ve got to pack our belongings, and there’s a long voyage ahead of us.”

  Tomas shook his head. “It’s not right.”

  Brodie ran his hand nervously through his tousled hair. “Now you listen to me. See sense, Tom. You saw that thing?”

  “I can’t run away and abandon her.”

  Brodie swore. “Do you think you’re like your father, is that it? You’ll be as dead as your father, too, before this is done.”

  Tomas seized the hilt of Brodie’s sword and jerked it out of its sheath.

  Brodie’s eyes widened with disbelief.

  “I have to go out there.” Tomas shook off the halfling’s plaintive, grasping hands, and opened the door.

  The night was as black as before. Heavy clouds moved swiftly across the sky, obscuring all but a faint trace of moonlight. The sea hissed and roared, and Tomas flinched as a cold gust of wind hit him in the face. He strained his eyes, trying to see into the darkness. Fear clutched his stomach as he imagined the creatures that might be lurking there.

  “Tomas! Please, please come back!”

  He looked at the little halfling standing in the doorway of the cabin, and for a moment he weakened. He loved Brodie as he would have loved his father, had he known him.

  But then the wailing cry started again, and Tomas felt his fear give way to righteous anger. He strode forward, raising the sword high.

  Behind him, he heard Brodie come out after him. “I can’t let you go, Tomas. I can’t!”

  Tomas leaped dow
n onto the beach and crossed the sand in long, loping strides. Within a few moments, he had disappeared into the darkness, leaving the halfling far behind.

  Tomas paused when he reached the cliffs at the opposite side of the bay. His heart was beating fast and his chest was so tight it was difficult to breathe. He paused, gasping for air, and tried to listen. This was where the wailing had originally seemed to come from.

  Briefly, the large moon, Mannslieb, appeared between two clouds. In its faint light, Tomas saw tracks in the sand. There were large, deep hoof marks, and two sets of smaller subhuman footprints.

  The tracks led around the point. He ran quickly, scaled a heap of boulders, and found himself in the next bay. He had played here often, in his childhood. There was a cave, up in the cliffs. The tracks ended immediately beneath it.

  The moon disappeared behind the clouds again, but there were easy footholds in the rock. Tomas slid the sword into his belt and started climbing. He moved swiftly; his muscles were strong from the juggling and acrobatics he had practised. It only took him a few moments to reach the cave mouth.

  He grasped the sword again and paused, hearing faint scuffling noises. “Linna!” he shouted. “Linna, are you here?”

  There were chittering sounds, like distant daemonic laughter. A foul, sweaty stench wafted out. He tightened his grip on his sword and took a cautious step forward.

  Something grabbed his leg. Sharp horny fingernails ripped through his breeches. Pointed teeth sank into his flesh.

  Tomas shouted in fear and pain. He groped in the darkness and managed to close his free hand around the goblin’s neck. He tore the thing from him, wincing as its teeth pulled free. It made a terrible screeching sound and writhed in his grip—

  “Give her back!” he shouted.

  The goblin hissed and spat into his face.

  Tomas slammed the goblin down onto the floor of the cave, stamped on its neck, and stabbed his sword into its body.

  The goblin’s screams turned to a gargling sound as it choked on its own blood. The great moon reappeared in the sky outside, shedding just enough light for Tomas to see the creature impaled on his sword, squirming in its last death throes. Tomas jerked the blade free—then stopped in dismay. The tip of the blade had snapped off where it had plunged through the goblin and struck the rock beneath.

  There was a scuffling sound. Tomas whirled around. Two more greenskins were running toward him with their teeth bared.

  He leaped quickly to one side, avoiding the first. He swung the sword, using the sense of timing he’d learned from juggling in the village square. The blade caught the second goblin in the side of its neck.

  It was a heavy blow, but the sword’s edge was dull. The creature screamed and fell, but it was still alive.

  Tomas spun around just in time to grapple with the first goblin as it returned and threw itself at him. He stumbled backward.

  It screeched and tried to claw his face. Tomas turned as he fell, so that he landed on top of the creature, squashing it against the rocky floor. Momentarily, it was stunned. He picked it up by one leg, turned, and swung it. His aim was true: its head smacked into the head of its companion. Their skulls smashed together with a terrible wet crunching sound.

  For a moment, the only noise in the cave was that of Tomas’ laboured breathing and the gushing of goblin blood. Some of the hot, wet stuff was on his hands. He wiped it on his breeches and picked up his broken sword. Cautiously, then, with his pulse thudding in his ears, he crept further into the cave.

  The moonlight faded into blackness with each step that he took. At the same time, he began to see a flickering orange glow ahead. He reached a bend in the passageway. Beyond this point, he knew, there was a large cavern.

  He sidled around the bend with his back to the wall and his sword raised. Up ahead, two torches had been wedged in fissures in the rock, illuminating a ceiling festooned with stalactites and a floor cluttered with huge boulders. Near the centre of the chamber was a frail, pale figure, tied to a column of rock. “Linna!” he shouted.

  The figure struggled and made smothered sounds. Tomas tried to suppress the surge of hope that he felt. He glanced nervously around. Where was the monster?

  He saw movement from the corner of his eye—but when he turned his head, he found that the shape had just been a shadow. The whole chamber was alive with dancing shapes created by the flickering light.

  He leaped up onto a slab of rock and circled around the edge of the cavern, coming gradually closer to the elf girl. She seemed to be unharmed. But caution held him back from running to her.

  He reached for the dawnstone and closed his fingers around it as Brodie had shown him.

  The figure of the elf girl shimmered as if he were seeing it through a heat haze. Suddenly, it dissolved. In its place was the beast, lashing its tail. Its bulging eyes were fixed on Tomas, and its fangs were bared.

  “Where is she?” Tomas shouted. His voice echoed around the chamber.

  The beast made a coughing, gargling sound that almost sounded like laughter.

  “What are you?” Tomas demanded, fighting to suppress his overwhelming fear.

  The beast’s mouth widened in a ghastly grin. “I am he who seeks revenge, in the name of my beloved master, the Lord Slaanesh.” Its words were slurred; its voice was guttural and inhuman. It screamed and hurled itself forward.

  The wall of the cavern was behind Tomas’ shoulders. He gasped in terror and swung his broken blade in a hopeless attempt to slash the creature’s body. It seized the sword deftly in its crab-claw, twisted it out of Tomas’ hand, and hurled it contemptuously aside. Almost in the same motion, it swept its razor-edged tail in a wide arc, aiming to cut Tomas in two.

  Tomas dodged to one side and the tip of the tail grazed his chest, ripping his shirt. He found himself off-balance and falling. Flailing his arms, he toppled from the edge of the slab where he stood.

  His reflexes saved him. He somersaulted as he fell, and landed hard on his heels. But as he looked up he saw that the beast was already coming for him.

  Tomas ran. He scrambled up a series of ledges, then jumped up from one boulder to another. The creature was too cumbersome to match this kind of agility and its hooves slipped on smooth stone. It roared with anger and lashed its tentacle-arm like a whip, reaching for Tomas’ face.

  He ducked under it, then jumped higher, until he reached the top of a tall heap of boulders. The last one moved under his weight, and he realized it was precariously balanced. He looked back at the creature and saw what he should do. He turned his back to the wall, braced his feet, and pushed with all his strength.

  The boulder teetered ponderously under him, then started tumbling. It dislodged other rocks beneath it, creating an avalanche. There was a rumbling sound, and the whole cave seemed to shake.

  The monster vented an inarticulate cry. It stumbled backward as the rocks rolled down toward it. It had fierce strength but seemed to lack intelligence, Tomas thought. Perhaps all it knew was how to inflict pain and death.

  The first boulder hit its legs, and the creature fell. With inhuman strength, it pulled itself out from under the rock—but its legs had been crushed, and it could no longer stand. It screeched in pain and tottered helplessly, raising its claw-arm in a futile effort to protect itself as two more boulders tumbled down. One hit the claw and smashed it into fragments. The other landed squarely in the creature’s hairy chest.

  It bellowed in agony as it fell beneath the rock. Blood spurted out and it writhed, lashing its tail. It vomited up a foul mixture of foaming, steaming, pink-and-brown sludge, and shouted again. Its struggles were gradually diminishing.

  Tomas was shaking so badly he had to crawl down the tumbled pile of rocks on his hands and knees. When he reached the bottom he stood for a long moment, trying to regain his equilibrium as he stared at the creature. It glared back at him through eyes that were growing dull and dim. Its tentacle twitched in little spasms. It made a guttural, croaking noise, then gasped
, coughed, shat convulsively, and finally died.

  Tomas rested against a nearby rock, taking slow, deep breaths. He checked the gash on his chest and found that it was bleeding, but was not deep. His leg throbbed with pain where the goblin had bitten him, but that too was not a major wound. He wiped sweat out of his eyes, blinked, and looked around.

  He saw the stone column where the beast had disguised itself as the elf girl. “Linna,” he exclaimed in a whisper. A pile of tattered clothing was lying there, and the rocks were slick with blood. Further back, where the creature had made its lair, there was an ugly heap of bloody bones and chunks of pale flesh.

  Tomas clenched his fists. He willed himself to be strong. With a sense of hollow dread, he forced himself to go and take a closer look.

  Some of the shredded clothes were Linna’s. He remembered hanging them up to dry in the heat from the fire in Brodie’s cabin. Other garments were also elfin in style, but seemed cut for a man. She and her brother had died here, there was no possible doubt. Tomas cursed himself for having come too late to save her.

  He turned away, feeling sick with guilt. His father had been right: it did no good to hide. So long as people gave in to their fear, more innocent victims would die, and the creatures of the dark would multiply and grow stronger. The only way was to match their strength with greater strength.

  Tomas turned and walked shakily back past the creature lying with its chest crushed beneath the boulder. The bulging eyes stared up blindly, and the mouth gaped in an ugly, silent scream.

  Tomas paused. He saw something that gleamed in the flickering light. Trying to suppress his revulsion, he squatted down beside the corpse. Almost lost in the beast’s thick fur was a shiny black object. He reached out, took hold of it, and dragged it into view. It was a dawnstone, just like the one that Brodie had given him.

  With a trembling hand, he took the stone from around his own neck and held it beside the one that the creature wore. There was no doubt: they were identical. A matched pair.

  He stood up suddenly, and felt himself swaying. What had Brodie said about Richard Crowell? Some say he succumbed to the evil forces. And: The beast you just saw was once a man. And: He promised to come back if he could.