Slaves to Darkness 02 (The Blades of Chaos)

by Warhammer

  Ursula lay there for a while staring at the ceiling. She couldn't remember anything that had happened after the confrontation with Lady Halste. Jasmina el Al, she corrected herself, feeling bitter.

  She tried to think what might have happened. There was the manservant, Khemen. And the sister had mentioned the count. Perhaps one of them had Ulfshard. Her mind was foggy with pain and the herbs that she had been fed by the priestesses, and she couldn't think straight. Her mind still jumbled, Ursula fell into a fitful sleep.

  When she next awoke, there were two armed guardsmen in the room standing either side of the door, dressed in half-plate armour and holding tall halberds. Their helmets were decorated with a yellow plume, and the blue clothing under their breastplates and greaves showed them to be members of the count's own army. They steadfastly ignored her as she pushed herself up.

  Her skin was red, peeling, and blistered in places. Her chest and stomach were tightly bound with bandages making it almost impossible for her to bend at the waist. When she tried, a stabbing pain in her lower chest reminded her that she had broken at least one rib in the fight against the Arabian enchantress.

  Swinging her legs from under the covers, pain lanced through her and she gasped. She was dressed in a loose white robe, similar to those worn by the sisterhood, open at the back from the knees down. She lowered her feet to the tiled floor and hissed as she touched the cold stone. With another glance at the guards, she gingerly stood up.

  Dizziness struck her but she managed to stay upright, steadying herself with a hand on the headboard of the bed. There was a narrow shuttered window at the far end of the room and she padded awkwardly between the beds and stood before it. She pulled at the shutters to open them, but they did not move. Only then did she notice the padlock that held them together. The nails that held the bar in place were shiny and new, proof that the lock had been only recently fitted.

  'They told me you woke up yesterday,' she heard Ruprecht say, his voice cracked and quiet. Ursula spun around quickly and was struck by another dizzy spell. This time she could not stay upright and fell to her knees. One of the guards rushed forward. Dropping his halberd clattering on the floor, he knelt beside her.

  'You shouldn't exert yourself, lady,' he said, offering her a hand which she gratefully took. He was young, perhaps only a year or two older than she was, and had deep blue eyes under the rim of his helmet.

  'Thank you,' she said as he lifted her to her feet. 'What's your name?'

  The other soldier coughed pointedly and the guard darted his companion a dirty glance.

  'Hanser, lady,' the soldier said, ignoring his comrade's warning. 'Hanser Feld.'

  'I'm Ursula, and you don't have to call me lady.' Ursula said, propping herself up on his shoulder. She looked at his face for a moment, thinking how youthful he looked.

  'No such welcome for your old comrade-in-arms then?' said Ruprecht and Ursula gasped and clapped a hand to her mouth.

  'I'm not thinking straight, forgive me.' Ursula said with a smile to Hanser. She let go of the soldier and tottered across the room to sit on the bed beside Ruprecht. The guardsman retrieved his halberd and took up his position by the door, casting a sour glance at the other sentry.

  'How are you feeling?' Ursula said.

  'Burnt and sore,' Ruprecht said with a rueful shake of his head.

  'Have they told you what happened yet?' Ursula asked him and he shrugged, the pain of the gesture causing him to suck in a deep breath.

  'They haven't told me anything except that the sword is in safe hands, whatever that means,' Ruprecht said, laying a hand on Ursula's knee and squeezing it affectionately. She winced at his touch as he inadvertently stretched the burnt skin on her legs and he snatched his hand away, the movement causing him to grit his teeth too.

  'I think we need to listen to the sisters' advice and not do too much of anything,' Ursula said with a smile and Ruprecht nodded in agreement.

  There was a knock at the door, and the guard who had not been so welcoming opened it a crack and peered out. After assuring himself that the visitor was no threat, he stepped back and opened the door wide. The sister of Shallya whom Ursula had seen before stepped into the room. She was followed by a short man with dark, thinning hair. He was dressed in riding boots, breeches, and had a blue cloak thrown back across his shoulder. His face was plain, his eyes a little too close together for Ursula's liking.

  'Sister Meriaud, are they fit for me to speak to them?' he said in a thin, reedy voice.

  Not replying directly the priestess came forward, her eyebrows raised in obvious agitation.

  'How are you pair feeling this evening?' she said, standing beside the bed. 'Herr Gorstend is the count's chancellor and would like to speak to you. Do you feel ready to talk?'

  'Yes,' replied Ursula immediately, wanting to know what had transpired in the time they had been unconscious. 'Yes, I think we can.'

  Meriaud nodded, turned back to the chancellor and waved him into the room.

  'If you feel tired or unwell, then please call for me,' she said to Ursula and Ruprecht. 'And you're not to tire them out either,' she added with a frown for the benefit of Herr Gorstend. The two soldiers, at a glance from the chancellor, followed the priestess out of the room and the door closed with a click.

  'You must have many, many questions, I am quite sure,' said Gorstend. 'However, let me explain some of the events you are unaware of, and if you then still have questions, please feel free to ask them.'

  'Are those guards to protect us or keep us here?' said Ruprecht.

  'Yes,' said Gorstend with a nod.

  'Where's Ulfshard?' Ursula said, standing up and taking a step towards the chancellor, who stepped back from the swaying advance.

  'I will tell you in a moment,' he said, waving her back to the bed. 'If you will allow me to continue?'

  'Just tell us,' said Ruprecht, leaning forward to tug at Ursula's robe. She darted him a look and then with a sigh she sat back on the bed.

  'Good.' said Gorstend, coming closer again. 'As you are aware, your former employer, whom you knew as Lady Halste, was given finances by Count Luiten to recover the artefact you mention. After the incident in which you were involved, the Arabian servant, Khemen, brought the matter to the count's guard. He was taken into custody for his involvement in this dark plot, you were brought here and the artefact was also taken somewhere safe.'

  'So the count has Ulfshard?' said Ursula. 'That's the short answer.'

  'Yes and no.' Gorstend said, running a hand through his thin hair. 'He would like you, as a reward for your sacrifices and service, to present him with Ulfshard at a formal audience. It is in the keeping of his guard, under lock and key, until then.'

  'When?' asked Ruprecht. 'When do we have to perform this presentation?'

  'We have to give him Ulfshard, which he already has.' said Ursula. 'Why?'

  'When you are fit and well enough to do so, of course.' said Gorstend with a smile. 'You have both done very well, and the count wishes to express his gratitude in a public display. He has summoned all the nobles and knights to attend his court in ten days' time. The sisters assure me this is adequate time for your recuperation. These things have to be done properly. The count can't just suddenly start wearing the sword, can he? He has to be seen to receive it from the brave adventurers who recovered it for him.'

  'And the others who went on the expedition?' said Ursula. 'What do they get?'

  'Well, they were all paid upon ending their duties.' Gorstend said. 'However, I am sure the count will have no disagreement with a suggestion that a Roll of Honour be drawn up with their names on, and perhaps extra remuneration for their loyal services.'

  'You seem to be taking this whole matter very calmly.' said Ruprecht. 'Aren't you worried that someone like Jasmina managed to perpetrate such an evil fraud in the count's name? If it hadn't been for us, she would have succeeded in her scheming and unleashed who knows what terror on the city!'

  'I am afraid that
the count may seem foolish to entrust his future to this wicked woman.' said Gorstend, clasping his fingers across his chest. 'He was quite taken with the young lady and her ambitious plan. All is well that ends well, as they say, though, and, despite her evil intentions, thanks to your intervention Ulfshard will return to its rightful owner as the count had originally hoped.'

  'One other thing,' said Ruprecht, pulling the hand-less stump of his left arm from under the covers and waving it at Gorstend. 'When are you going to give me back my damn hand?'

  After the splendours of Karak Norn, the count's palace seemed ramshackle and gaudy. Ursula and Ruprecht were seated in a small wood-panelled chamber waiting for Gorstend to return and usher them into the count's presence. The chairs they sat in were lumpy and overstuffed, and the walls were hung with portrait after portrait of Count Luiten in various guises and poses as statesman, general, knight, loving father, ship's captain, hunter and, for some unknown reason, baker.

  They shared the room with a few other dignitaries, who were clustered around the double doors leading to the count's throne room, trying to hear what was going on beyond. Ursula's first impression of the men had been of thin-faced, miserable looking moneylenders, with austere black breeches and shirts. After that, she hadn't paid them much attention at all. She and Ruprecht had been given clothes befitting the occasion, and she glanced across to see Ruprecht rummaging in his crotch.

  'Just leave it alone,' she whispered with a glance towards the nobles.

  'Damnable codpiece,' Ruprecht said, shifting uncomfortably on the seat. 'Whoever thought that making them out of rigid leather was a good idea should be taken out and hanged.'

  He stopped his fidgeting and leant back, draping his left arm across the back of the chair. Spots of fresh oil could be seen leaking from his mechanical hand. The energy from Jasmina's spell had fused it into a clenched fist, and it had taken the count's most skilled smiths to get it working again. Or so Gorstend had said. Ruprecht had confided in Ursula the suspicion that they had taken it apart to study the dwarf workmanship. He had repeatedly complained that the thumb wasn't gripping as well as it should.

  The side door to the chamber opened and Gorstend walked in, resplendent in his yellow and blue robes of office which trailed behind him on the ground. A fur-trimmed collar almost swallowed his head and in his right hand he carried a large sceptre tipped with a ship made from gold. The nobles at the door dispersed quickly, pretending to look at the paintings on the walls.

  With Gorstend was a burly man who walked with the bow-legged, rolling gate of a sailor. His bearded face was flushed as he argued with the chancellor.

  'I don't bloody care what Lord Douwe says, the man's never set foot on a ship other than to carry out an inspection in his whole life,' the stranger was saying.

  'The count's recent enterprise has quite drained the coffers,' Gorstend said with an expressive shrug. 'I sympathise with your cause, Captain Leerdamme, I really do. So does Count Luiten. But we cannot send the Marienburg navy out to chase down a few pirates just because you say they're getting bolder.'

  Leerdamme was about to reply when Gorstend hushed him with a raised hand. The captain silently fumed as the chancellor walked over to the doors. Looking over his shoulder, Gorstend waved the captain to seat himself. He sat down on the long couch next to Ruprecht.

  'Nice hand,' the man said with a nod towards Ruprecht's artificial appendage.

  'Dwarf work,' Ruprecht said, bringing the hand over so that Leerdamme could see it more closely.

  Ursula rolled her eyes and turned her attention to the chancellor, who was hovering around the door, an intent look on his face. She half-heard the sailor saying something that she recognised.

  'What did you say?' she said, turning towards him, Ruprecht saying the very same words at that moment as well.

  'Sank some marauders from Fjaergardhold,' Leerdamme said. 'Evil swines, the lot of them.'

  'The Fjaergard?' Ursula said again in disbelief. She looked at Ruprecht who raised his eyebrows. 'Are you sure, captain?'

  'Yes, I'm blo... I'm very sure, lady.' Leerdamme said, leaning forward. 'A savage lot, and no mistaking. Slaughtered a whole village up on the Nordland coast, which is how I came to know them. Never seen any of them so bold in my life, but I ran them aground. They'll not be going back home from this raid. Deserved everything they got, especially that bastard captain of theirs, excusing my language, lady.'

  'Why so?' asked Ruprecht. 'What's so special about this Norscan?'

  'Well, I didn't see him clearly myself, but another captain saw him as clear as the sky.' Leerdamme said. 'No more than a hundred yards from the cur at one point. This marauder chief, he stands there on his longship pointing a sword at this captain and laughing. A knight's sword if you believe that! The man said he'd never seen a Norseman like him, tall as a horse, with a shock of dark hair and wearing armour stolen from a knight, no less! Bold as brass, he was.'

  Ruprecht and Ursula exchanged a glance.

  'A southern-looking man, with dark hair, in knight's armour?' Ursula said slowly. 'With the Fjaergard?'

  'That's right!' said Leerdamme, standing up. 'Not a word of a lie, I swear it! You pair look like I've walked over your grave and swore at your mother.'

  A trumpet sounded from beyond the doors. Gorstend swung them open and stepped through.

  'My count, barons, knights and ladies.' he declared in a voice more expansive than one might have expected of someone with such small stature. 'It is the honour of my post and of Marienburg as a whole to introduce you to two of the count's most loyal and fine servants!'

  He turned and waved Ruprecht and Ursula to the door. The nobles and Leerdamme drew themselves up into two files behind them.

  Another fanfare echoed from the chamber beyond.

  'May I present Lord Ruprecht Steelhand and Lady Ursula Silverblade!' he said, his voice reaching a bellowing crescendo. Ursula stifled a giggle at the pretentious titles, and Ruprecht glared dangerously at the chancellor's back. 'In you go,' Gorstend whispered, stepping out of their path and waving them in with his sceptre.

  'Silverblade?' whispered Ursula, still trying not to laugh.

  'Shush,' Ruprecht said out of the corner of his mouth. 'We'll just present him with the sword, make a pretty speech or two and then leave them to it.'

  Feeling the sense of occasion, they stepped out together, pacing slowly through the door. The chamber beyond was low and long, lit by torches held in sconces along the walls. A long blue carpet ran across the flagstones from the doorway up to the throne. The hundreds of assembled nobles crowded and jostled each other, standing a little back from the carpet's edge to look at the new arrivals.

  Stepping forward as regally as they could, Ruprecht and Ursula walked between the civilised scrum erupting on either side of them. Whispered comments floated to their ears.

  'His hand, see, his hand is metal.'

  'I thought she would have been taller.'

  'I wish my hair was that nice.'

  'He hasn't even trimmed his beard, not very good show for a lord.'

  The two of them kept their attention fixed ahead, looking at Count Luiten. He was slouched in his throne, the back of which rose up twice the height of man, emblazoned with a relief of the serpentine sea-god Manaan entwined around a castle tower, his trident raised above his head.

  The count himself was short and fat, his robes gathered in heavy folds in his lap, revealing pallid ankles and shins. Piggy eyes glinted at them from beneath Luiten's sweating brow, and the count reached up a hand and swept perspiration from his balding scalp, wiping his hand on the upholstered arm of the throne.

  As the two approached, he pushed himself huffing to his feet and waddled forwards, extending a beringed hand. Ursula stopped in front of the count and bent to one knee. Leaning forward she kissed the ruby on his middle finger and swiftly retreated. Ruprecht duplicated the gesture, his scowl hidden from view as he stooped.

  Where's the sword, Ursula thought? We
can't give him the sword if we don't have it.

  As if mentally summoned, Gorstend appeared at Ursula's elbow, the crown of Marbad in one hand. In the other he held a long sheathed sword. The scabbard was made from black leather bound with gold wire and studded with circles of silver. It would have looked refined and dignified had it not been for the addition of three large rubies and a sapphire down its length, looking lustreless and shoddy compared to the gently glowing hilt-stone of the magical sword within.

  Ruprecht noticed the chancellor and, in his nervous agitation, hastily snatched Ulfshard from his hands and thrust it towards the count.

  'Lord Ruprecht Steelhand presents you with the heirloom of your position, the sword Ulfshard!' said Gorstend, his voice echoing out over the now-silent hall.

  Luiten smiled and stepped forward, the pudgy fingers of his left hand stretching to close around the scabbard. Pulling the sheath to his chest, he grasped the exposed hilt. With an explosive exhalation, his cheeks reddening, Count Luiten pulled free Ulfshard and waved it above his head.

  There was a desultory cheer and some clapping, but a frown creased Luiten's face. Lowering the sword, he looked at the dimly flickering pommel-stone and dull sheen to the blade. With a shrug that was almost hidden by his heavy robes, he lifted the sword again, a drip of sweat falling from his greasy palm.

  'Lost in battle, and returned again,' Luiten said, stepping forwards and forcing Ruprecht and Ursula to step aside lest he walk into them. He strode down the carpet as he spoke. 'Glorious Ulfshard, blade of Marbad, bane of the northmen. Long we have quested for its return. Great has been the expense to restore this wondrous prize to Marienburg.'

  He stopped between the two crowding groups, and passed the sword slowly in front of them so that they could see it properly.

  'Ulfshard, symbol of the rulership of the Wasteland, sign of the gods' vindication of my reign,' Luiten continued, licking the sweat from his top lip. 'Blessed by their benediction, my right to rule confirmed, today marks the beginning of a new era for myself and for Marienburg.'