Gotrek & Felix- the Third Omnibus - William King & Nathan Long

by Warhammer

  The end of a chain whipped around Birri’s neck and jerked him off the tank cart so quickly that it almost seemed as if he disappeared. Felix stood just in time to see the chain whir into the drain after the cannon, dragging Birri with it.

  ‘Well struck, manling,’ said Gotrek.

  They limped across the room to the broken grate and looked down the hole. They could see nothing in its pitch-black depths.

  ‘Where does it go?’ asked Felix.

  ‘Underground stream, likely,’ said Gotrek, spitting into it. ‘Hope he rots before he dies.’

  ‘It wasn’t his fault, surely,’ said Felix. ‘The thing took over his mind.’

  ‘Then he was weak. A true dwarf would never have been corrupted.’

  Felix raised an eyebrow. ‘So all of the Diamondsmith clan were weak?’

  Gotrek grunted angrily, and turned towards the door. ‘Let’s get back.’

  When they returned to the clanhold’s central chamber, nearly all of Hamnir’s army had retreated into the gemcutter guildhall. The last few companies backed slowly towards the big door, entirely surrounded by the lost dwarfs.

  Gotrek shook his head. ‘Pointless,’ he said, but started forward nonetheless.

  He and Felix pushed through the crowd of frail dwarfs, disarming and knocking down as many as they could as they went, and then joined Hamnir, Gorril and the others on the front line.

  ‘Where is Birri?’ asked Hamnir, between parries.

  ‘He fell down a hole,’ said Gotrek.

  ‘You killed him, Valaya curse you!’ said Hamnir. ‘I told you–’

  ‘His inventions killed him,’ said Gotrek. ‘I never touched him.’

  Hamnir gave him a suspicious look, but they had reached the door of the guildhall.

  ‘We hold here,’ he said, and then turned to Gorril. ‘Have the others fall back to the far door and wait beyond it. You circle back here with some of your clan. When our poor cousins have followed us in, close the doors behind them.’

  Gorril saluted and hurried to the other companies, who waited in the middle of the guildhall. Gotrek and Felix joined Hamnir’s company in holding the lost dwarfs at the door. It was easy work – in one way, the easiest battle Felix had ever fought – in another, the most unsettling. He fended off the feeble attacks almost without thinking, but looking into the faces of the attacking dwarfs was heartbreaking. Traces of their individuality remained in their clothing and ornament – the way a miner braided his beard, the brooch a dwarf maid wore pinned to her dress, the scars and tattoos of a hard-bitten warrior – but it was gone from their eyes. All had the same blank, dull expression he had seen on the orcs’ faces. All fought with the same mindless, passionless ferocity, dampened only by their long starvation.

  What made it worse was that, just as had been the case with the orcs, the lost dwarfs would sometimes come to themselves. A brief flash of intelligence would light up their eyes and they would start back in dismay at what they were doing, but then, almost as soon as it had appeared, while Gorril’s dwarfs were calling out joyfully at their recovery, the awareness died, the dullness clouded their eyes once more, and they would attack anew. Several dwarfs fell to this phenomenon, as they lowered their weapons and took an axe in the neck from a friend they thought had returned to them.

  At last, all of Hamnir’s army passed through the far door of the guildhall. Hamnir and the others stepped back from the door and let the flood of lost dwarfs spill in after them. The swarm spread out, trying to encircle the defenders, but they were slow, and Hamnir’s company easily outpaced them. Indeed, Hamnir slowed somewhat so as to remain almost within reach and keep their attackers’ attention upon them. Felix felt like an Estalian bull-dancer waving a red cape at a herd of somnambulant bulls.

  When they reached the far door, much narrower than the main entrance, Gotrek waved the others through. ‘The manling and I will hold this.’

  Hamnir hesitated, perhaps afraid that Gotrek would change his mind and start butchering the dead-eyed dwarfs. Then he nodded and led the others out the door.

  Gotrek refrained from slaughter, though he looked miserable about it. ‘Delaying the inevitable,’ he muttered. ‘Only be worse when the time comes.’

  He and Felix held the door until the last of the Diamondsmith dwarfs wandered through the guildhall’s main entrance and Gorril’s dwarfs closed the big doors behind them.

  As they heard the bars fall into place, Gotrek and Felix jumped back from the bizarre melee. Hamnir slammed the small door in the faces of the Diamondsmith dwarfs and locked it. Then he leaned his forehead against it as they beat listlessly at it from the other side.

  ‘We fought so hard to free them,’ he said miserably, ‘only to lock them in again.’ He raised his head and looked at Gotrek. ‘My thanks for your mercy.’

  ‘It isn’t mercy,’ said Gotrek, disgusted. ‘It’s torture, for them and for you, and it’s needless. They won’t recover.’ He shrugged. ‘But they are your kin.’

  Safe, at least for the moment, with the orcs locked out, and the lost dwarfs locked in, Hamnir’s beleaguered army slept. Felix was asleep as soon as he lay down, exhausted by the ceaseless fighting of the past day, but he was again troubled by unsettling dreams. These were the opposite of the last. Instead of murdering the others in their sleep, he was running through Karak Hirn alone, looking for Gotrek. Every dwarf he asked turned blank eyes on him and tried to kill him. Hamnir, Gorril, Narin, Galin, all shambled after him, arms outstretched, as he backed away, his heart pounding.

  At last, he found Gotrek, sitting in the guardroom near the Horn Gate, his back to the door. Felix opened his mouth to call out to him, but hesitated, overwhelmed by the fear that if Gotrek turned around he too would stare at him with one vacant eye. He took a step further, reaching out a nervous hand towards Gotrek’s shoulder. Gotrek’s head lifted as he sensed Felix behind him. He began to turn. Felix shrunk back. He didn’t want to see. He didn’t want to know. He…

  He woke up, his sleep-thick eyes peeling open, and looking around in the dim light of Diamondsmith’s central chamber, where he and Gotrek and most of Hamnir’s force had laid down the night before. Shouted questions and running feet echoed all over the clanhold.

  Gotrek rolled over and raised his head. ‘What now?’ he muttered.

  Felix sat up, groaning. All his muscles ached. His wounds throbbed. He felt as stiff as a week-old corpse, and half as lively.

  Gorril’s lieutenant, Urlo, was picking his way through the rows of waking dwarfs looking around. When he spotted Gotrek, he hurried to him, going down on one knee to whisper in his ear.

  ‘Gorril asks that you come see him, Slayer. It is urgent.’

  ‘Gorril asks?’ said Gotrek. ‘Something wrong with Hamnir?’

  ‘Er,’ Urlo looked around uneasily at the other dwarfs. ‘Gorril will tell you.’

  Gotrek grunted, his jaw clenching. ‘All right.’ He pushed himself up, hissing as he bent his wounded leg. He collected his axe. ‘Come, manling.’

  Felix nodded and got painfully to his feet. He and Gotrek followed Urlo out of the room. They could hardly walk.

  ‘Hamnir’s missing,’ said Gorril.

  They were in Kirhaz’s private quarters, which Hamnir had taken as his billet. Gorril paced back and forth beside a heavy dining table where an untouched breakfast had been set. Urlo stood by the door.

  ‘Missing?’ asked Gotrek. ‘Since when?’

  Gorril spread his hands. ‘He was gone when I went to wake him this morning. I have my company searching the hold top to bottom, but so far, nothing.’

  ‘Any signs of an attack?’ asked Gotrek.

  ‘None. I…’

  One of Gorril’s dwarfs pushed into the room behind them. He had another dwarf with him.

  ‘Gorril. Some news.’ Gorril’s dwarf urged the other forwards. ‘Tell him, miner.’

  The miner ducked his head to Gorril. He had a nasty lump over his left ear. ‘Aye,’ he said. ‘Well, last night I was
posted to watch the secret door that goes from Diamondhold’s third gallery to the main hold grain stores.’ He shrugged, embarrassed. ‘I must have dozed a bit, because someone got up behind me and gave me a knock over the head that put me on the floor. I opened my eyes just in time to see a dwarf go through the secret door and close it behind him.’

  ‘Did you see who it was?’ asked Gorril.

  The dwarf shook his head, and then regretted it. ‘Just legs and feet,’ he said, massaging his brow, ‘and all a bit blurred.’

  Gorril punched the table. ‘When did this happen? Why didn’t you tell someone immediately.’

  The dwarf flushed. ‘I meant to, captain, I did, but somehow in the middle of getting up off the floor I, well, I guess I fell asleep again.’ He swayed where he stood. ‘Could do with a bit of a nap now, actually.’

  Gorril crossed to the dwarf and looked in his eyes. He frowned. ‘Take him to the physic. He may have cracked his skull.’ He gripped the dwarf on the shoulder. ‘Thank you, cousin.’

  Gorril turned to Gotrek and Felix as Gorril’s dwarf led the other out. ‘What does this mean? Was it Hamnir? Why would he go out alone into a hold full of grobi? Could someone have taken him? The guard only saw one dwarf, but there could have been more. Did we miss some of the lost dwarfs?’ He stopped, his face pale. ‘Grimnir! Have they taken him below? Is he in the mines with their “Sleeper”?’

  Gotrek was looking at the floor, his fists clenched. ‘Aye. That’s my guess.’

  Gorril cursed. ‘Then there is no time to waste! We must go look for him!’

  Gotrek shook his head. ‘No, lad.’ He tapped himself on the chest. ‘I go after him. You won’t be coming.’

  ‘And you’ll stop me?’ asked Gorril, eyes flaring. ‘Hamnir was my cousin, and my best friend. I can’t stay here while I know he might be–’

  ‘Do you want to leave Karak Hirn leaderless again?’ asked Gotrek, cutting him off. ‘You’re all that’s left.’

  ‘There is you,’ said Gorril. ‘Why don’t you lead them? I no longer…’

  ‘I’m no leader,’ Gotrek said. ‘I’m a Slayer, and there is something in the mine that needs slaying. You are a leader, so lead. The hold must be cleared of the risen grobi and guarded until King Alrik returns.’

  ‘You mean until Prince Hamnir is found,’ corrected Urlo.

  Gotrek’s face tightened. ‘Aye, or that.’

  ‘You don’t think you’ll find him?’ asked Gorril, his eyes troubled.

  ‘I’ll find him,’ said Gotrek, ‘or die trying, but alive? In his own mind?’

  ‘Grimnir!’ Gorril swore. ‘What turned your heart so black, Slayer? Must you snuff out every spark of hope before it has a chance to kindle?’

  ‘Hope lies,’ said Gotrek, stepping to the door. ‘Only a fool listens. Now go tell your troops that Hamnir is missing and ready your attack on the grobi. We’ll go out when you do.’

  Gorril glared at him, and then sighed. ‘Very well, we will go in an hour.’

  Gotrek nodded, and he and Felix stepped out of the door.

  ‘Slayer,’ called Gorril.

  Gotrek stopped and looked back.

  ‘If you have no hope, why do you go on?’ Gorril asked. ‘Why slay monsters at all?’

  Gotrek’s eye grew hard. ‘Because there is one thing anyone may hope for that will eventually be granted them.’

  ‘And what’s that?’ asked Gorril.

  ‘Death.’

  He turned and walked down the hall.

  Felix followed. ‘Especially if he follows a Slayer,’ he muttered.

  ‘What was that, manling?’ asked Gotrek.

  ‘Nothing. Nothing.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Hamnir’s army was grim and silent as it waited inside the Diamondsmith hold’s main door for Gorril to arrive and the sortie to begin. The news of Hamnir’s disappearance, on top of the horror and pain of discovering the Diamondsmith clan’s empty madness, had hit them hard. They were more determined than ever to take back the hold and rid it of the dread taint that infected it, but it would not be a joyous victory. There would be no repetition of the previous night’s drunken celebration.

  Gotrek and Felix waited at the front of the column. They were to help with the initial break out, and then split off on their quest to the mines once all the dwarfs had left. Gotrek was as dour as the rest. His eye was on the floor and he muttered angrily to himself. Felix wondered what, besides the obvious, was troubling him, but didn’t like to intrude. It wasn’t polite, and with Gotrek, it wasn’t safe.

  Narin and Galin pushed through the troops and stopped beside Gotrek. He didn’t acknowledge them.

  ‘I’m coming with you, Slayer,’ said Narin at last.

  ‘And I,’ said Galin.

  ‘No,’ Gotrek grunted, apparently annoyed at being disturbed. ‘This is Slayer’s work.’

  ‘And if you remember,’ said Narin, touching the sliver of the Shield of Drutti in his beard, ‘we both have a vested interest in making sure that you are not slain while doing it.’

  Gotrek raised his head and turned a baleful eye upon him. ‘You would rob me of my doom?’

  ‘Will you use your doom to cheat us of our grudge fights?’ puffed Galin. ‘You cannot die until you face us. The honour of our clans demands it.’

  Gotrek snorted. ‘I put aside my Slayer’s vow until now because of the oath I made to Hamnir long before I took the crest. Now, I might satisfy both oaths at once. A petty squabble over a shield comes a distant third.’

  ‘A petty squabble!’ cried Galin. ‘He insults us anew!’

  ‘You won’t dissuade us, Gurnisson,’ said Narin.

  Gotrek glared at them, then shrugged and turned away. ‘Do what you will. Just don’t get in my way.’

  The ranks of dwarfs parted and Gorril marched up the column with Urlo and his company to take their place at its head. Gorril turned and faced the dwarfs. ‘I’ve no speech for you, cousins. Remember that they can only be stopped by taking their heads. Fight well. Die well. May Grimnir protect us.’

  The companies muttered a short prayer in unison and Gorril signalled the wounded dwarfs who stood at either side of the door. ‘Lock it behind us,’ he told them, ‘and be sure that we are still ourselves before you open it again.’

  The dwarfs nodded and pulled the levers that unlocked and opened the doors. They swung slowly in. The undead orcs were still there, waiting, as patient as the grave, and as fragrant. They stumped silently forwards, their weapons raised, the stench of their decay rolling in before them like a fog.

  The dwarfs were ready this time. They were rested. They knew what to do. They cut through the orcs outside the door like a hammer through sea foam. Teams of dwarfs worked in tandem, one knocking an undead orc to its knees, the other lopping its head off. The orcs did not bleed.

  Gotrek and Felix blocked their ungainly attacks with ease, disarming them – sometimes literally – and separating heads from shoulders left and right. Narin and Galin did the same at their sides.

  No matter how many the dwarfs cut down, the mob of walking corpses seemed not to shrink. They filled the broad corridor in both directions. The dwarfs pushed slowly but steadily into them, winning every inch with a decapitation, until all the companies were in the corridor, and the door to the Diamondsmith hold closed behind them.

  ‘Right,’ said Gotrek to Gorril. ‘You’re out. We’re off.’

  ‘Good luck to you, Slayer,’ said Gorril. ‘Bring Prince Hamnir back alive.’

  ‘If I come back, he comes back,’ said Gotrek. He looked to Felix. ‘Which way, longshanks?’

  Felix craned his neck to see over the horde of greenskins. ‘Stairs to our left are closest.’

  ‘Right.’

  Without another word, Gotrek started hacking a path through the orcs. Felix, Narin and Galin followed in his wake, guarding his back and taking a few heads of their own as they went. After five minutes of the strange, bloodless slaughter, they reached the stairs and t
he edge of the orc mob. A few orcs followed them down to the grand concourse, but they were so slow that the four quickly left them behind.

  Gotrek led them through the hold to King Alrik’s chambers. The mineheads were locked tight, and the orcs inside were probably trying to break through them, but with luck, the hole from the vault to the kruk had not yet been discovered, ‘with luck’. Felix laughed at that. Their luck had been terrible so far. Relying on it now seemed like madness. Still, it was the best of the bad choices available.

  They met no resistance. The hold was deserted. The orcs had all converged on the Diamondsmith hall in order to fight the last of the dwarfs. King Alrik’s quarters were as they had left them, minus the goblin bodies, which had apparently risen from the dead and left to fight. They passed through the makeshift tannery into Alrik’s bedchamber, covering their noses against the reek of the piles of rotting garbage, and stepped across to the fat pillar on the far side.

  ‘On your guard,’ said Gotrek.

  Felix, Narin and Galin readied their weapons as Gotrek felt around on the filigreed border beside the pillar. He found the catch at last, pressed it, and the column screwed down into the floor. There were no orcs behind it.

  Felix let out a breath.

  They descended down the winding, railless stair into King Alrik’s vertical vault. At the bottom, Gotrek crossed resolutely to the ragged hole in the wall, but Narin and Galin had a hard time passing all the vault’s treasures without slowing. Their eyes lingered longingly on the beautiful axes and suits of armour, and the casket full of blood gold.

  ‘Surely we deserve some reward for our selfless service,’ said Galin, licking his lips.

  ‘Aye,’ said Narin. ‘What’s an ounce of gold lost when we’ve won his hold back for him?’

  ‘You want your reward before you’ve finished the job?’ growled Gotrek.

  Galin shrugged sheepishly. ‘Only a joke, Slayer.’

  ‘Aye,’ said Narin, pulling his eyes reluctantly away. ‘Only a joke.’

  They followed Gotrek through the hole, and along the rough passage they had cut so laboriously only a day before, and so into the kruk. There was no sign in the abandoned mine that the orcs had yet discovered their diggings, and they hurried through them until they reached the door that led to the mines proper.