[Gotrek & Felix 12] - Zombieslayer

by Nathan Long - (ebook by Undead)

  Felix reached out and shook his shoulder as Kat held the blade ready.

  “Doktor Tauber?”

  The man jerked and grunted, and Kat and Felix stepped back, wary, but when he turned his head to look at them, there was intelligence in his blinking, squinting eyes.

  “So,” he said, in a voice like dry paper. “Von Geldrecht is gone then?”

  Felix smiled. “No, herr Doktor, he still lives. But he has relented at last. He wants you to see to the wounded.”

  Tauber frowned at this, then rolled back over and closed his eyes again. “Let them rot.”

  Felix sighed. He had been afraid of this. “Doktor, they need you.”

  “What could they possibly need a warlock for?” croaked Tauber. “Are they begging for poison now?”

  “You are no warlock,” said Felix. “You didn’t poison anyone.” He pulled the stopper from a jug he had found with half an inch of water in it. “Here. I have water.”

  Tauber didn’t look around. “Bosendorfer certainly thought I did,” he said, sneering. “Or wished I had. And the rest believed him. Why should I help the fools who wanted me killed?”

  “For the good of the Empire,” said Felix. “We have to hold back Kemmler’s force as long as we can.”

  Tauber rolled over and looked up at him, smiling thinly. “Mein herr, I may have been locked down here, but even I know that the castle will fall no matter what I do—and soon.” He chuckled. “Would you like to try again?”

  Felix opened his mouth, but he didn’t know what other argument to make. Maybe he should try threatening the man. Maybe he could force him to work.

  Kat laid a hand on Tauber’s shoulder. “Because you are a doctor,” she said. “If you are to die, it should be doing what you do.”

  Tauber stared at her for a long moment, his brows lowering as if he was going to snarl at her, but then he closed his eyes. “You… you said there was water?”

  Felix held out the jug as Kat helped him to sit up. He seemed to have lost nearly half his weight, and looked more than ever like a starved crow with a bad disposition.

  He took the jug in clawed hands and drank, but only in sips, moaning and shivering with relief. Felix shot Kat a grateful look over his head. Why hadn’t he thought of that argument? She shrugged, embarrassed, then steadied Tauber as he lowered the canteen with a gasp and opened his eyes.

  “Help me up,” he said. “I am ready.”

  Tauber stopped just before the door of the Reiksguard chapel, making Felix and Kat and his assistants jolt to a stop behind him. He peered through at the men who lay in groaning rows on its polished stone floor, and his hands clenched at his sides.

  The hate in the doctor’s eyes made Felix swallow, and he wondered if he had made a terrible mistake. Tauber may not have been a poisoner when Bosendorfer and the others had accused him of it, but what if his unjust imprisonment and their loathing of him had made him one? What if Tauber went into the chapel and proceeded to kill everyone he touched?

  “Don’t let them turn you into what they think you are, doktor,” he said.

  Tauber gave him a ghastly smile. “Fear not, Herr Jaeger. I have too much pride for that.”

  The doctor straightened his shoulders and took a deep breath, then strode into the room with something approaching his old hauteur. As Felix and Kat followed him in, Felix saw the men look up at him, and winced at the fear and mistrust that flashed in their eyes. Tauber paid their reactions no mind.

  “Who is most grievously hurt?” he asked, raising his voice. “Who is closest to death?”

  There was a chorus of pleading at this, but as Tauber raised up his hands for order, Sergeant Leffler stepped next to Felix and whispered in his ear.

  “Please, mein herr, I know he won’t like to do it, but if you could ask him to look at the captain?”

  Felix grunted. Tauber likely wouldn’t like it at all, considering, but Leffler was right. Bosendorfer would be dead within the hour if his leg wasn’t seen to.

  “This way, doktor,” he said, and led him to the cot where Bosendorfer lay as Leffler murmured his thanks behind him.

  The greatsword turned pale as he saw the doctor approach, and gripped the sides of the cot as if he wanted to flee.

  Tauber smiled down at him like a wolf. “Don’t worry, captain,” he said. “It will be my greatest vengeance to make you whole again.”

  Felix sat against the chapel wall, trying to stay awake long enough for Tauber to get around to him, but it was a struggle. Despite the throbbing pain in his arm, sleep pulled at him like an anchor, dragging his head down to his chest. He was so tired from the five days of endless fighting and rebuilding and fighting and rebuilding that he felt encased in lead. Beside him, Kat looked as weary as he felt, staring at nothing while Gotrek and Snorri snored thunderously next to her.

  A few minutes later, Tauber finally hissed down before Felix, and gave him a weary smile. He was moving like a man twice his age, but despite that, he seemed almost cheerful. Kat had apparently been right. There was no greater tonic than letting a man do what he did well.

  “Now, Herr Jaeger,” he said, “what can we do for you?”

  Felix folded back his sleeve to show the makeshift bandage Kat had tied around the claw wounds. Tauber snipped through the cloth with a pair of scissors and pulled it away. His smile faded.

  A cold lump formed in Felix’s chest. “Is it that bad?” he asked.

  Tauber sighed. “Were Sister Willentrude still alive, you would be in little difficulty, for her prayers would have driven out the infection and the wounds would have eventually healed on their own. As it is, they are too far gone. I can only wash and bandage them and tell you to pray.”

  “There’s nothing else to be done?” asked Kat.

  Tauber pursed his lips. “If you were strong enough, your body might fight off the infection, but none of us is at our strongest at the moment, eh?” He looked over his shoulder at the rows of wounded. “They are all in the same fix. A proper field hospital, with water and Shallyan prayers and food, and most of them would live. Here, despite my best efforts, most will die within a day—perhaps sooner.”

  Felix swallowed, his stomach sinking, and Tauber saw it.

  “I’m sorry, Herr Jaeger,” he said. “My bedside manner leaves something to be desired, I know. Forgive me. You will have perhaps a little longer. You may even pull through, for you have a good constitution, but unless you receive proper attention soon, your chances are slim.” He shrugged, then snapped his fingers at the assistant who stood behind him with a satchel full of bandages and makeshift implements. “But here, let us do what we can do. Even a little attention may help, no?”

  When Tauber had moved on, Kat and Felix sat silent for a long while, leaning against each other and holding hands. The crippling weariness that had dragged at Felix still weighed him down, but now sleep would not take him. Tauber’s words had struck too hard.

  “I hadn’t really given up hope until now,” said Felix at last. “Gotrek and I have been in helpless situations so often, and we’ve always cut our way out somehow, but… but you can’t fight sickness with axe and sword.”

  Kat nodded. “What day is it? How long before the relief is supposed to come?”

  Felix tried to think back. It was difficult. It all seemed like one long, miserable night. “Four days since von Geldrecht sent the pigeon?” he said. “Five?”

  “And seven days to get here from Altdorf,” said Kat.

  Felix nodded. “They will get here too late.”

  “Then this may be our last day alive,” said Kat. “Our last day… together.”

  Felix looked at her and swallowed, then forced a smile. “Don’t be ridiculous, Kat. We’ll be together forever, marching side by side behind Kemmler’s banner.”

  Kat’s eyes widened, but then she laughed and circled his arm with hers. “As long as it’s side by side, Felix, I am content.”

  Felix blinked up out of a dream in which he had got into a con
test with Gotrek over who could keep their arm in a roaring fire the longest. Gotrek had been laughing and sneering at Felix as he held his hand uncaring deep within the flames, while Felix had sweated and gritted his teeth even though he had only held his arm at the very edge of the fire.

  The dream faded as he took in the murmuring hubbub that was going on around him, but the throbbing heat in his arm did not. He looked down at his wound and saw that the sick red of infection had spread beyond his bandages now. His head seemed to pulse with it too, and his vision was blurry and doubled.

  “What’s happening?” murmured Kat. “Another attack?”

  “I don’t know,” said Felix.

  “It’s not an attack,” said Gotrek, sitting up beside Snorri, who snored on, undisturbed.

  Felix squeezed his eyes shut then opened them again and the double vision went away, though the blurriness remained. At the far end of the room, beyond where Draeger and his militiamen had made their berth, the officers were again gathered around Bosendorfer’s cot, and appeared to be arguing.

  “But he can’t!” Bosendorfer was saying. “He’s a Talabeclander.”

  “He is also a lord,” said Sergeant Classen.

  “Come on, manling,” said Gotrek, standing.

  “Stay here, Kat,” said Felix. “We’ll see what it is.”

  She nodded, and Felix pushed himself up from the wall, then had to hold himself there as the world did somersaults around him. When at last everything stopped moving, he stepped over Snorri and stumbled after the Slayer. “You haven’t asked if I want it,” von Volgen was saying as they joined the circle around Bosendorfer.

  “Well, do you?” asked the handgunner.

  The lord looked around at them all, ending on Bosendorfer. “If I am asked, I will do it. But I will not ask it for myself.”

  “What’s going on?” asked Gotrek.

  Classen looked up at him. “Lord Steward von Geldrecht has disappeared,” he said. “He is nowhere in the keep.”

  NINETEEN

  “Small loss there,” grunted Gotrek.

  “You insult our commander?” snapped Bosendorfer. “Have a care, herr dwarf!” The greatsword seemed much recovered, his leg wound neatly bound and his eyes alert. Tauber had been as good as his word.

  “What happened to him?” asked Felix.

  “No one knows,” said Classen. “And until we find him, we need a new leader.”

  “Has anyone gone to speak with Graf Reiklander?” asked von Volgen.

  “I asked to see him when we found von Geldrecht gone,” said Classen. “But Grafin Avelein turned me away. She said the graf was too sick to speak.”

  “He was never too sick to speak to von Geldrecht,” muttered the spearman.

  “Does this mean no one has been in the graf’s apartments?” asked von Volgen. “Could the steward be within?”

  “The grafin said he was not,” said Classen.

  Felix suddenly remembered his last encounter with the steward, and a sinking suspicion iced his guts. “When was von Geldrecht discovered missing?” he asked.

  “No one has seen him since he went to tell the graf our situation,” said Classen. “I assumed he retired to his rooms afterwards, but he is not there now, and no one has seen him since he entered the keep.”

  “I think he has escaped,” said Felix.

  Every head turned to him.

  “Escaped?” said Bosendorfer.

  “How?” asked Classen. “We are trapped.”

  “Why do you think this, Herr Jaeger?” asked von Volgen. “Did he speak to you?”

  “It—it wasn’t so much what he said, but…” Felix frowned. “It was when he gave me the key to Tauber’s cell. He said he was afraid he’d left it too late, and he apologised, then—then he said ‘good luck’.” He looked around at the others. “It didn’t occur to me at the time, but now that I think back on it, it sounded like he was saying goodbye.”

  A dark laugh came from behind them and they turned. Tauber was limping towards them, an evil smile wrinkling his pinched face.

  “That is exactly what he was saying, meinen herren,” he said. “Lord Steward von Geldrecht has fled, and left you all behind.”

  “What?” barked Bosendorfer. “And how would you know this, locked in your cell?”

  “Because he asked my help to do it,” said Tauber.

  “What do you mean?” said everyone in unison.

  “Why would the steward want to leave?” asked von Volgen.

  Tauber laughed. “Don’t you want to leave, my lord? I certainly do.”

  “Answer the question, curse you!” barked Bosendorfer.

  “I would imagine he left,” said Tauber, shrugging, “because he finally convinced the grafin to give him the last of her husband’s gold.”

  “Are you saying,” asked von Volgen as the others murmured in surprise, “that von Geldrecht was stealing from the graf?”

  “For years,” said Tauber. “And he might have gone on indefinitely except that the graf had the temerity to die—which complicated everything.”

  The men stared, stunned, at this casual pronouncement, but Bosendorfer jolted up, struggling to rise from his cot.

  “What lie is this?” he cried. “The graf isn’t dead, you villain! The steward has given us his orders every day since we came back!”

  “Indeed,” said Tauber. “And who but the steward has seen him since then?”

  The men looked around at each other, waiting for someone to speak, but then Classen cried out.

  “His wife!” he said. “The grafin never leaves his side!”

  “Yes!” said Bosendorfer, turning on Tauber. “The grafin! If the graf was dead, don’t you think she would have said something?”

  “Aye, the grafin,” said Tauber, nodding sadly. “It was for her sake that I became part of this.”

  “Part of what?” asked von Volgen. “Tell it from the beginning.”

  Tauber nodded, then pulled up a stool and hissed down into it, grimacing. “I’m sorry, gentlemen,” he said. “It is too long a story to tell standing.”

  “Just get on with it,” said Classen.

  Tauber inclined his head politely, then began. “As I said, von Geldrecht had been embezzling from the graf for years, and when Archaon invaded, von Geldrecht was well pleased to stay behind when the graf marched north, for with everyone away, his thieving could be even bolder. Unfortunately for him, the graf took a terrible wound at Sokh, and though I did my best, and kept him alive all through our long march back from the north, he died of it within a week of returning to Castle Reikguard.”

  The men groaned at this, and Bosendorfer cursed.

  “I don’t believe it,” he said.

  Von Volgen waved him silent and motioned for the surgeon to continue.

  Tauber sighed. “When von Geldrecht found the graf dead in his bed, he came to me before he went to the grafin. He said the lady was nearly mad with grief over the graf’s suffering, and he didn’t want to push her over the edge by telling her he had died. He begged me to tell her instead that he was comatose, and that with rest and care, he would recover.” Tauber scowled. “I thought this was foolish, but eventually allowed myself to be convinced. Unfortunately, while I was lying to the grafin, von Geldrecht was lying to me. The real reason he wanted her to think her husband was still alive was greed. With the death of the graf, Castle Reikguard would pass to his son, Dominic, a much more suspicious fellow than his father, and von Geldrecht feared his embezzlement would be discovered.”

  He coughed, then continued. “Von Geldrecht therefore decided to leave before Dominic returned, but, greedy fool that he was, he didn’t want to go without taking all he could, and the most valuable, portable, untraceable treasure in the castle was a chest of dwarf gold locked away in a secret chamber in the graf’s rooms. The difficulty was, von Geldrecht couldn’t open it. Both the key and lock were cunningly hidden, and only two people knew their secret—the graf and the grafin—and the graf was dead.” />
  “So he went to work on the grafin,” said Felix.

  “Very good, Herr Jaeger,” said Tauber. “He did indeed. He told her husband could be brought out of his ‘comatose state’ by a great physician in Altdorf, but that the man charged a fortune to perform his miracles. He told her she would need all the gold in the secret chamber to pay him.” He smiled. “I learned all this when von Geldrecht came to me a second time. The grafin had grown suspicious of his story, so the steward asked me to back him up, and was willing to give me a share of the gold for my cooperation.”

  “Which you gladly took,” said Bosendorfer, glaring.

  Tauber curled his lip. “I did not. The graf was a good master and a true nobleman, and I had no intention of helping that fat villain rob him, but he reminded me that I had already lied to the grafin about the graf, and he threatened to tell her I had killed him.” The surgeon looked down. “I—I should have still said no. But I feared the noose. So, in the end, I agreed to do as he said, but—”

  He laughed suddenly. “But even with my ‘learned’ opinion backing up his lies, the grafin still hesitated. She said she’d had visions of a kindly old wise man who told her that if she waited and prayed to Sigmar, her husband would rise from his bed again.”

  “And she believed this?” asked von Volgen.

  Tauber nodded. “I believe her fears for her husband twisted her mind.” He chuckled. “And wasn’t von Geldrecht vexed to find that he suddenly had a rival in a mad woman’s visions? He did his best, telling her the dreams were false visions sent by some evil sorcerer, but she would not be dissuaded, and would not give him the gold.”

  He shrugged and looked around at them all. “Then, as you know, Kemmler’s horde surrounded the castle, and von Geldrecht’s departure grew even more complicated. Fortunately, he knew of an escape tunnel built by Karl Franz’s great-grandfather, but despite his dire warnings to the grafin that the graf would be killed when Kemmler conquered the castle, she still refused to give up hope that the kindly old wise man would come and save him.”