[Blackhearts 01] - Valnir's Bane

by Nathan Long - (ebook by Undead)

  Reiner stared at the girl for a long time. Revealing the girl’s secret would be more of a disruption than keeping it, and yet it went against every instinct he had as a gentleman and a lover of women to allow a girl to fight and come into harm’s way. He ground his teeth. He must think as a captain and do the thing that was best for the group, not the individual. It was better for the group to have more fighters and to work smoothly as a unit.

  “What’s your name, girl?”

  “Franka. Franka Mueller.”

  Reiner sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “That was foolish of me. It would have been much smarter not to know you by any other name than Franz. That way it would be impossible to make a mistake.” He shrugged. “Ah well, can’t be helped. Get your kit together, the rest are getting far ahead.”

  Franka looked at him uncertainly. “So you won’t betray me?”

  “No, confound you, I won’t. I need you. But I make no promises for when we return to civilisation, I hope that’s understood.”

  Franka saluted smartly, her lips twitching a smile. “Perfectly, captain. And my thanks.”

  Reiner grunted and began gathering up Gustaf’s kit, trying to get the image of Franka’s naked breasts out of his head. It was going to be difficult thinking of the girl as a lad again.

  They caught up to the others a short while later.

  Hals shot Franka a dirty look. “I’m surprised he didn’t murder you too, captain. You being alone with him and all.”

  “Less of it, pikeman,” said Reiner. “I’ve listened to the las… to the lad’s story and I believe it. He showed me cuts on his chest like those Gustaf carved into that girl. It seems our surgeon had more wide-ranging tastes than we suspected.”

  “That’s as may be,” said Pavel. “But don’t expect me to bunk with him.”

  The men continued following the distant sounds of marching. There were no stairs in the strange round tunnels, just sharply sloping ramps that connected one level to the other. The ramps were cut with toe holds that seemed to have been placed for beasts with four legs, not two, which set Giano raving about rat-men again. The marching continued to echo down from above them, and they climbed through five levels before the sound began coming from ahead of them.

  “Let’s increase our pace until we find the cannon tracks,” said Reiner. “I don’t want to miss our way.”

  They walked faster, though all were exhausted from their interrupted sleep. Hals hopped gamely on his makeshift crutch, while Giano kept a hand on Ulf’s elbow, for the big man hadn’t fully recovered his balance after his blow to the head. Oskar shuffled somnambulantly in the middle of the pack, at peace now that Reiner had given him another sip from Gustaf’s bottle. The journey was made somewhat easier because they no longer needed torches. The pale green glow of the walls was just enough to see by, though it gave them all a sickly cast that was unpleasant to look at.

  A few hours into their march Hals found a broken cleaver discarded in a shallow alcove. It was enormous, the handle so big even Ulf had a hard time closing his fingers around it. There was dried blood caked on its snapped blade.

  “Orcs,” said Pavel. “Right enough.”

  Hals poked at the crusted blood. It flaked away. “No way to tell if this was dropped last week or last century.”

  Reiner swallowed unhappily. “Well, we can’t be more alert than we already are, can we? Carry on.”

  They resumed their march and despite Reiner’s words, the men were indeed more alert, looking nervously over their shoulders at every turn and jumping at shadows.

  Reiner let the others get a little ahead and walked with Franka. “I still don’t understand how you became a soldier,” he said. “What possessed you to take up this life?”

  Franka sighed. “Love.”

  “Love?”

  “I am the daughter of a miller in a town called Hovern. Do you know it?”

  “I think so. Just south of Nuln, yes?”

  “Aye. My father arranged a marriage for me to the son of a Nuln wheat merchant. He hoped to win a better wholesale price from the boy’s father. I, unfortunately was in love with the son of a farmer who came often to our mill with his wheat—Yarl. I didn’t like the merchant’s son. He was an ass. But my father didn’t listen to my wishes.”

  “As fathers so often fail to do,” said Reiner wryly, thinking of his own less than understanding father.

  “The merchant’s son and I were to be married last spring, and I thought I could bear it if I could slip away and see Yarl now and then, but then the hordes began their advance and Yarl was called by Lord von Goss to string his bow in defence of the Empire.” She chuckled bitterly. “The merchant’s son got a dispensation because he and his father were provisioning the army. It came to me suddenly that I would be alone with that puny braggart while Yarl was away fighting, and that… and that Yarl might not come back.”

  “Such is the lot of women since the beginning of time,” said Reiner.

  “Chaos take the ‘lot of women’,” sneered Franka. “On the eve of my wedding I could stand it no longer. I cut my hair, stole my father’s bow, and ran off to Gossheim where Lord von Goss’ army was mustering for the march north. I enlisted as Yarl’s younger brother Franz and took his last name. It was…” She blushed. “It was the best six months of my life. We ate together, tented together. Every happiness I dreamed marriage would bring, we had.”

  It was Reiner’s turn to blush. “But how did you pass? How did you learn the bow? The ways of the soldier? A life of embroidery and dresses…”

  Franka laughed. “Do you think me a noblewoman? I was a miller’s daughter, and not a rich one. My mother had no sons. I milled. I lifted sacks of grain. I haggled and joked with the farmers and the draysmen.”

  “But the bow?”

  Franka smiled. “Yarl taught me. He was my playmate from childhood. We ran in the fields. Hunted squirrels on his father’s farm. Played at prince and princess. I wanted to do everything he did, so I learned the bow at his side. When he vouched for me at von Goss’ camp no one gave me a second look.”

  “So how did you come to kill the fellow who…”

  Franka hung her head. “Yarl died. At Vodny Field. Killed by a diseased arrow. I could have run away then, I suppose. Many did. But the idea of returning to the merchant’s son and his big house with the big bed and the cowering servants…” she shivered. “I couldn’t face it. And I had come to like the army. Yarl and I had made good friends there. We were a band of brothers…”

  “And one sister,” quipped Reiner.

  “A band of brothers,” continued Franka, ignoring him. “United against a great enemy. I felt I had a purpose in life. And with Yarl gone, I needed something to make me want to keep living.” She shook her head. “I was a fool. I thought I could keep my secret, but of course my captain assigned me a new tent-mate, and it wasn’t long before the dog caught me out and… well, you know the rest.”

  They walked in silence for a moment.

  “You are a singular woman,” Reiner said at last.

  Franka snorted. “Aye, that’s a word for it.” She stopped and turned suddenly, ear cocked. “Do you hear…”

  Reiner listened behind them and heard it as well. What he had thought of as a faint echo of the Kurgan marching, was growing louder. “Curse it,” he growled. “Have we got ahead of them? Or is it a second force on the heels of the first? Are we trapped again?”

  They ran to catch up with the others.

  “Marchers coming up behind us,” Reiner announced. “Are you positive the warband is still before us?”

  “Can’t you hear ’em singing, captain?” asked Hals.

  Reiner listened. The dull, two-toned chant was clear. “Then who in Sigmar’s name is behind us?”

  “I’ll go back, captain,” said Franka.

  “No,” said Reiner. “I forbid it. You aren’t…”

  “Captain!” Franka interrupted quickly. “I am recovered from Gustaf’s assault. There i
s no need to treat me with kid gloves.”

  “No,” said Reiner, cursing her inwardly. The foolish girl was deliberately trying to force him to put her into danger. “But you lost more blood than any of us. You are still weak. Giano will scout back. We will continue forward at march pace and leave way marks at any turnings we make.”

  Franka stuck her lip out. Giano sighed. “The thanking I get for be quick on my foots.”

  He hurried back down the tunnel as Reiner and the rest continued forward. Franka glared straight ahead as they marched and said not a word. Reiner sighed.

  After another quarter hour, they began closing on the Chaos column. The different sounds were becoming distinct from one another. The creak and groan of the cannon’s wheels, the monotonous chant of the soldiers, the ragged rumble of hundreds of marching feet. They entered a larger but still perfectly cylindrical tunnel with many branching side tunnels, and found at last the tracks of the great gun carriage, so heavy that it cracked the floor’s greenish glaze and turned it to a resinous powder. Reiner used his dagger to scrape an arrow in the tunnel wall to indicate to Giano the direction they were taking and they continued on.

  “Cautiously now, men,” he said. “They’re just a few bends ahead.” He shot a look at Franka. “Er, I’ll take the lead. Give me thirty paces.”

  Franka sniffed as he crept ahead. They proceeded forward in that fashion until at last Reiner could see the tail of the Kurgan train ahead of him—shambling horned silhouettes against the yellow glow of torches in the distance. He stopped and raised a hand to the others, at once fearful and relieved. It was like following a bear through the woods to find a stream. He didn’t want to lose the bear, but letting it know of his presence was suicide.

  The others caught up with him.

  “Move at this pace,” he said, “and we should just keep them in…”

  Running footsteps interrupted him. The men turned, weapons at the ready. Giano came out of the darkness, wheezing and wild-eyed.

  “Greenskins!” he said between gasps. “Half league back. Almost they see me.”

  “Quiet!” whispered Reiner, pointing down the tunnel. “The Kurgan are just there.”

  “They coming fast,” Giano continued more quietly. “Hunting. Little bands, spreading out, every way?”

  “Hunting for us?” asked Reiner.

  “Does it matter?” asked Franka.

  Hals groaned. “Trapped again. Sigmar curse this whole enterprise!”

  “He has, mate,” said Pavel. “Trust me.”

  “Not trapped yet,” said Reiner. “We’ve more tunnels to manoeuvre in here. If we can…”

  A rumbling voice called a challenge from down the tunnel.

  Reiner jumped. He and the rest turned toward the enemy troops’ line of march in time to see Kurgan-shaped shadows step out of a side tunnel fifty paces away. It was hard to tell in the murky green light, but they seemed to be looking their way. Reiner groaned. “Right. Now we’re trapped. Back away, and if they start toward us, run.”

  The party backed down the corridor as more Kurgan came out of the side tunnel.

  The challenge came again.

  “What’s the point, captain?” asked Hals. “We can’t outrun ’em, banged up like this. We might as well die gloriously.”

  “I’d rather live ingloriously,” said Reiner. “If it’s all the same to you. Come now, speed it up. I have a plan.”

  Hals muttered something Reiner couldn’t quite hear about “too many cursed plans” but he hobbled along gamely with the rest of them as they hurried further down the hall.

  Their challenge unanswered, the Kurgan came forward cautiously, unslinging axes that glinted green in the eerie glow of the walls. One of them went trotting down the tunnel toward the main force. It seemed to Reiner that the axe-men were being more circumspect than Kurgan had a reputation for, and he wondered if they too knew that there were orcs in the area. He cursed himself for not expecting the Kurgan to have outriders patrolling the line of march. It was something a real captain would have known instinctively.

  The men had just reached the side tunnel they’d originally entered from, when a lone Kurgan poked his head out of another tunnel directly behind them. He laughed and called back to the squad derisively. Reiner couldn’t understand the words, but the meaning was clear—“It’s only men.”

  An answering laugh echoed from the axe squad and Reiner heard them start forward at a trot.

  “Run!” cried Reiner, motioning them into the side tunnel. Oskar, Franka and Ulf ran in first, followed by Giano, still winded from his reconnaissance. Pavel and Hals came last, Hals skipping with his crutch and wincing at each step. It was clear to Reiner that Hals would soon fall behind, and that Pavel wouldn’t leave his side.

  “Ulf! Carry Hals! Pavel, keep Ulf steady!”

  “No sir,” protested Hals. “No man carries me.”

  “I have him, sir,” said Pavel. “We’ll keep up.”

  “Damn your pride, the both of you,” said Reiner. “I’ll not have you die of it. Ulf!”

  The engineer fell back and hoisted Hals onto his back and they ran on, Pavel keeping a hand on the concussed engineer’s arm to guide him.

  Reiner could hear the axe men turning into the tunnel behind them. They were already gaining. “Shout, lads!” he bellowed. “Shout as loud as you can!”

  “Hey?” cried Giano, confused. “You want they find us?”

  “Not just them,” said Reiner, then raised his voice to a piercing cry. “Hoy! Greenies! Fresh meat here! Come and get us!”

  “Ah,” said Franka, grinning in spite of herself. “I see.” She too raised her voice. “Coo-ee! Pig snouts! Where are you? Come taste Imperial steel!”

  Bouncing on Ulf’s back, Hals laughed. “You are mad, captain! But ’tis my kind of madness.” He began to roar. “Come on, y’green bastards! Show us what y’ve got! I’ll paint the walls with yer green blood, y’great lumbering cowards!”

  Reiner heard an angry roar behind him and the Kurgans’ loping gait quickened to a run. It seemed they had guessed Reiner’s strategy as well, and were less than happy about it. They were getting closer by the second.

  But an answering roar came from before them, and the floor shook with heavy footsteps.

  Reiner sent up a silent thanks to Sigmar. “Eyes out for a side tunnel, lads. We don’t want to be pinched between when the hammer hits the anvil.”

  “This way, greenskins!” shouted Franka. “Dinner’s on the table!”

  “Aie!” cried Giano suddenly. “They come! Hide!”

  Reiner got a quick flash of huge, blurred forms holding enormous black-iron cleavers, before he and the rest ducked into a side corridor.

  The Kurgan behind them cried out, but their voices were drowned out almost instantly by a roar of hideous animal triumph from the other direction. Voices that were more like the squealing of angry boars than anything human rose in fury as the orcs charged forward.

  The impact as the orcs and the Chaos marauders came together sounded like two iron wagons full of meat slamming into each other at unimaginable speed. It was followed instantly by the clash of cleavers and axes and screams of frenzy and agony. Reiner couldn’t resist a look back. All he could see in the uncertain green light were giant, indistinct shapes in violent movement and the slashing gleam of cutting edges rising and falling.

  “On, boys, on!” he called. “Look for a way back to the main…”

  But Giano was suddenly skidding to a stop. Ulf crashed into him.

  “What’s the matter?” asked Reiner.

  “Yer plan worked too well, laddie,” said Hals, from Ulf’s shoulders. “There’s another lot coming.”

  Reiner cursed as he saw more lumbering shadows approaching in the distance. Fortunately the area was honeycombed with tunnels and they were able to slip down another passage before the orcs saw them. But now the sound of heavy feet echoed from every direction. There seemed no way to go that wasn’t clogged with orcs.


  “My genius continues to astound me,” said Reiner through clenched teeth, as they edged down a curving tunnel.

  “Oh, you do all right,” said Pavel. “You always get us out of our tight spots.”

  “And into tighter ones,” muttered Hals.

  At last they wormed their way through the maze, dodging hurrying squads of orcs and Kurgan as they went, and reached the main tunnel safely. They started after the Kurgan column again, but hadn’t taken twenty steps before they saw a detachment of fifty or so Kurgan marauders running toward them, torches bobbing. They were led by a giant in black chainmail skirts, an axeman trotting beside him, pointing out the way. But before the northers could turn into the side tunnel, orcs burst from other tunnels all along their flanks, roaring and squealing, and tore into them, cleavers swinging.

  Reiner and the others took refuge in a side corridor and watched awestruck the murderous melee that unfolded before them. It was a swirling chaos of flailing limbs, slashing blades, and flying bodies. The orcs attacked with animal fury, making up for an utter lack of discipline by the brute mass of their charge. The Kurgan, by human standards almost impossibly muscular, were puny in comparison to the orcs, whose mere skeletons probably weighed more than most men. They knocked the Kurgan flat from both sides, and chopped those who fell to pieces with cleavers the size of shields.

  The Chaos marauders were marginally more disciplined. After the initial shock of the orc ambush, their captains roared rallying cries and the marauders crowded around them, facing out to make primitive squares. In this posture of defence they formed a whirling wall of steel, huge axes slashing in figure-eights, and severing the hands and arms of any orc who tried to pierce it.