by Nathan Long
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’s 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 is 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 Ulfs 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.
Stymied by this simple manoeuvre, the orcs began hurling things at the Kurgan from a distance. There were very few rocks in the smooth tunnels, so they threw severed heads and limbs and entire bodies, both marauder and orc, then followed up this bombardment with charges. But though flying orc carcasses flattened more than a few Kurgan, the northers were prepared for the charges now, and their skill and the reach of their axes began to turn the tide.
A few more squads of orcs spilled out of the side tunnels and joined the fray, but the Kurgan held their own until a further detachment of marauders came howling down the tunnel. They plowed into the fray like a battering ram, and the orcs quickly lost any stomach for the fight. They scattered into side tunnels like rats fleeing a terrier, leaving their wounded to the tender mercies of the marauders.
Reiner and his men shrunk back, prepared to flee if any of the orcs came their way. None did. Nor did the Kurgan, who didn’t bother to pursue their attackers. Instead, they slaughtered the wounded orcs, stripped the bodies of weapons and armour, and marched back toward the main column.
‘Men,’ said Reiner, letting out a long held breath, ‘I think we’re back on track.’
The men started forward at an easy pace, following the sounds of the receding Kurgan.
THEY TAILED THE warband at a cautious distance until they stopped to make camp. Reiner backed up the tunnel for more than half a league before he felt it safe enough to bed down. He wanted to be well clear of any pickets the marauders might set around their perimeter. The night—if it was night, for there was no telling in the sunless tunnels—passed without incident, and when they woke to the sound of the Kurgan preparing to march again, they did the same, more refreshed than they had been since they entered the endless underworld.
Reiner spooned another dose of poppy into Oskar as they got under way. He hoped that they were nearing the end of the tunnels, for the supply was running low.
As they travelled, side tunnels and doors began to become more numerous, until the underworld felt less like a system of tunnels and more like the halls and rooms of a castle, or the streets and avenues of a city, the chambers between them houses and tenements. More frequent, as well, were the steep ramps that led to higher levels.
‘Whoever built these tunnels,’ said Reiner, as they looked around them in wonder, ‘this was their Altdorf.’
‘Maybe this is Altdorf,’ said Oskar dreamily. ‘Maybe we are under Karl-Franz Strasse and nearly home.’
Hals snorted. ‘Don’t be daft, lad. We haven’t travelled near that far.’
‘It feels like we’ve half crossed the world,’ said Franka with feeling.
‘Shhhh, all you,’ said Giano, flapping a hand. ‘I think they stopping again.’
The company stopped and listened, trying to determine by sound alone what was happening. At this distance it was difficult. They could hear orders being shouted and the sound of great bustle and activity, but a new sound, a deep booming howl that sounded like wind in a canyon, drowned out all the details.
‘We’ll have to reconnoitre,’ said Reiner. ‘Maybe we can use the upper levels to spy down on them. Giano, come with me. Franka gave him another dirty look, but there was nothing she could say.
Reiner and Giano climbed a nearby ramp and began to weave their way through a warren of tunnels, galleries and chambers. They passed rooms, and suites of rooms, that had at one time had low wooden doors, but these had long ago been smashed in, and the contents, whatever they might have been, stolen away. At each turning they listened to be sure that the sound of the Kurgan was coming from ahead of them, then crept on.
At last, after climbing to a third level, they turned a corner and torchlight and noise welled out of
a round opening before them. Giano motioned for Reiner to drop to his hands and knees and they crawled to the entrance. It opened out onto a wide tier that ringed an enormous circular chamber. There were tiers above and below them, set back like seats in an amphitheatre, with the same steep ramps connecting them at regular intervals. The walls of the tiers were riddled with round holes, most of which led into small rooms, though whether they had been storerooms or dwellings Reiner could not begin to guess.
The floor of the chamber was entirely filled by the Chaos war-band, who were crowded together so tightly they hardly had room to turn around. Most were sitting on their packs, or eating quick meals. The cannon squatted in the middle of them like some bird of prey surrounded by her brood. Reiner edged to the lip of the tier and looked right and left. To the right was the entrance to the chamber, a large black arch into which the tail of the Kurgan column disappeared. These men too sat where they had stopped, waiting with the resignation of soldiers everywhere. To the left was the reason for the wait and the source of the booming sound Reiner and his companions had been hearing since the halt.
It was a wide, swift river, its channel slicing through the left wall of the huge chamber at a shallow angle like a sword cutting through the top of a skull. The rushing current roared like a dragon, crashing against the broken piers of a ruined stone bridge with such force that permanent bow waves rose up around them in great white ruffles. A heavy but clumsily built wooden bridge had been constructed upon these ruins, and it was this that had brought the march to a halt. It was only wide enough to allow three men to march abreast.
A massively armoured warrior was calling the various captains and chieftains forward to lead their squads over the bridge one at a time, while bawling overseers directed slaves as they began pushing and turning the cannon in order to bring it into line.
Reiner groaned as he eyed the narrow crossing. He could see no other way across the river. ‘I believe we have at last found Gustafs “obstacle”.’