Warhammer vermintide, p.13
Warhammer - Vermintide, page 13
part #1 of Warhammer: Vermintide Series
“Do you have one more spell in you, wizard?” Heiko whispered into Erwin’s ear. He nodded weakly in response. Now that the tremendous energies he had drawn into his body had been released, the wizard seemed as frail as a sickly lamb. “Wait until they draw near, then unleash one of those blinding lights of yours. While they are disoriented we can get back to the curio shop.”
Tense moments passed as Rudolf’s men approached. Heiko could smell the cheap ale on their breath, see their shadows dancing across the tunnel wall. They were close enough now.
Erwin stumbled into the corridor with an ungainly motion, magical words already dripping from his lips. The soldiers had time to cry out in alarm, then their world vanished in a bright, flaring light. Like the skaven, they recoiled from the brilliance, shielding their injured eyes against the flash. Heiko pushed blind men aside as he raced down the corridor. Erwin was beside him, his body swaying as he struggled to maintain his balance. Then the wizard collapsed, spilling himself into the filth of the tunnel floor.
Muttering a curse, Heiko grabbed at Erwin’s robe, lifting him to his feet. Instead of running, however, the wizard stared at one of the soldiers, a tall man shouting orders as he rubbed furiously at his eyes. For an instant, Heiko felt the impulse to sink his fat-bladed sword into Rudolf’s belly. Honour, and the memory of the child Heiko had watched grow, stemmed the bloodthirsty desire. However far he might have fallen, he would not be an assassin. He grabbed at the wizard’s shoulder, urging him to move on. But Erwin’s terrified eyes fixed upon Rudolf’s face as though it were the visage of a gorgon. Heiko had to shove Erwin forward, but as he did there was a frantic haste restored to the wizard’s legs.
For now, Heiko’s thoughts were entirely occupied with finding a way out of the tunnels and Waldenhof itself. Only when those problems had been resolved could he afford to consider Erwin’s strange reaction to Rudolf, or the most important question on his mind: what had become of Bastian Maeckler?
Stefan Maeckler was dragged from his cage by the scaly-faced ratkin that assisted the monster Skreezel. The long weeks of unremitting horror had nearly broken his mind, watching as the malformed skaven perpetuated all manner of atrocities upon the screaming bodies of slaves. Whether the experiments lived or died was of no interest to Skreezel. Stefan spoke a prayer of thanks to whichever god could still hear him in the skaven-infested pit that the vivisectionist had not touched him again.
Stefan tried to straighten himself as he was pulled from the cage, but with his hideous leg hanging limp and useless at his side it was impossible. With his belly in the dirt Stefan looked slowly upward into the hatefully familiar face of Gnawlitch Shun. He was only dimly aware of the other monsters gathered about the silk-robed ratman, unable to tear his eyes free from Gnawlitch’s evil green gaze.
“I hear you do not find Skreezel’s hospitality pleasant.” There was an almost human note of mockery in its precise Reikspeil. “Perhaps you are more willing to consider reason now? Willing to assist in my project?” In response, Stefan spat at the monster, the sputum falling just short of its yellow robe.
“Morr rot your filthy soul!” Stefan snarled.
“I suspected you might be truculent,” the skaven hissed back. “You reward my hospitality with scorn, after I have gone to great length to bring you a gift, a present from as far away as Waldenhof.” Gnawlitch Shun stepped aside, allowing Stefan to see a pair of armoured, black-furred ratmen, their claws closed about the arms of a human captive.
Stefan screamed as he recognised the captive. He realised that all the horrors he had suffered were as nothing to what he would suffer now. The relief that flickered onto Bastian’s face as he lifted his head only made the pain worse.
“Father!” Bastian cried out, struggling vainly to free himself from the claws of his captors. Stefan struggled to rise once more, then began to crawl toward his son. Skreezel lurched forward, pressing his foot down upon Stefan’s back, arresting his pathetic attempt to reach Bastian. Gnawlitch motioned with a clawed hand and one of Bastian’s captors reached to the boy’s face, gripping his jaw and holding his mouth shut.
“It would seem your pup still recognises you,” Gnawlitch declared. “Does that not gladden your heart? I know enough about the human mind to understand how devoted your kind is to its spawn.”
Stefan groaned in misery, trying to free himself from Skreezel’s pinning foot. He turned his eyes from his son and looked back to Gnawlitch Shun. “Please, let him go! I’ll do whatever you ask, just let him go!” The skaven lashed its tail in amusement.
“Perhaps, once you have done as I have asked,” the High Warlock promised. “Until then he will stay here as Skreezel’s guest.”
Stefan’s eyes rolled as he contemplated the hideous prospect of his son enduring what he had suffered. “If you are quick in your labours, perhaps his stay will not be a long one. That, I leave to you.” There was no mistaking the terrible threat in the skaven’s voice. Tears streaming down his face, Stefan nodded his head.
Whatever the monster wanted him to do, he would now do it to save his son.
Gnawlitch Shun looked back to the armoured guards, motioning them to lead the boy away. As the guard’s claw left Bastian’s chin, the boy began shouting, entreating his father not to help the monsters. But it fell upon deaf ears. As Gnawlitch motioned with his claw again a different skaven scurried forward. Its body was almost scrawny, its cloak tied tightly about its waist, a heavy green jewel lashed across its chest. As it came forward, Stefan could see the skaven was sick in some way, bald patches marking its fur.
“This is my assistant, Quilik,” Gnawlitch Shun stated. “Recently returned from Altdorf with the last components I require to complete my grand project.” The silk-robed skaven motioned again. Stefan felt the pressure on his back vanish as Skreezel removed his foot and stepped away.
“You have seen what we are working on,” Gnawlitch asserted. “I need you to oversee the final stages in the assembly of my gyrocopters. The concept of sky and open air is too foreign, too frightening, for most of my engineers to grasp, hence they have made small, stupid errors in their calculations. I need someone who understands dwarf engineering and the principals of flight to help them along. You will do this for me.” It was a statement, not a question.
“Why don’t you just do it yourself?” Stefan dared to ask. Gnawlitch grinned back at him, a gesture as pleasant as a rabid wolf baring its fangs.
“My own efforts are required elsewhere,” the skaven stated. “Quilik will take you to your new workplace. Work quickly, Stefan-man, or your pup will suffer the consequences.” With a swirl of his silk robes, Gnawlitch Shun turned and strode from the chamber. Quilik sneered at Stefan for a moment, then began to lead his charge from Skreezel’s laboratory. Stefan turned his head for one final, terrified look back at his son. The skaven guards had led Bastian to an iron cage resting against one wall of the chamber. Somehow, in some way, he would spare his son what he had suffered. It was the only thought that would allow him to keep a grip on his sanity.
When Gnawlitch Shun and his entourage had departed, the hideously deformed Skreezel capered toward the iron cage in which Bastian had been placed. The young man recoiled as Skreezel’s bloated eye studied him with the intensity of a banker examining a suspect coin. A thin trickle of drool dripped from Skreezel’s mouth.
“I won’t be afraid of you,” Bastian spat at the monster. “Do your worst, I won’t help you.”
Skreezel’s chittering laughter echoed about his laboratory, causing the malformed things in the other cages to whine and growl. “Meat-pup funny-speak,” the skaven’s words slithered from his abnormal snout. “Sleep-rest,” Skreezel told Bastian. “Need strong-fit when Skreezel cut-change meat-pup. Much strong-fit so can scream-plead!”
CHAPTER SIX
Waldenhof was many days behind them before the two fugitives felt safe enough to rest. For the first time in days, Heiko was able to sleep somewhere other than the saddle of the doughty mare he had been riding. The men had hastily secured mounts before racing from the town. For all Erwin’s magic, a pair of horses did far more for their chances of escape.
The two men had chanced upon an old trapper’s hut in the foothills of the World’s Edge Mountains. The simple timber structure was scarcely large enough to accommodate the pair, but its walls were thick and would prove defensible if the coming night were to offer any unwanted visitors. They were further rewarded by a small supply of salted beef, provisions left behind by the trapper against his return.
Erwin leaned back upon the room’s small single cot, while Heiko struggled to make a fire in the pit at the centre of the hovel. The wizard had been a less than agreeable travelling companion since their escape from the skaven tunnels. He had been withdrawn and moody, never offering conversation and replying to Heiko’s own comments with only the tersest of replies.
“There is something you wish to ask me,” Erwin said, his eyes remaining closed.
Heiko felt his irritation rise, even as a cold thrill of unease tingled along his spine. The wizard had described his order as devoted to knowledge, but Heiko was not sure he wanted to know exactly how the hierophants of the Order of Light gathered that knowledge. There were times when Erwin seemed able to pluck thoughts from the minds of those around him as easily as another man might pluck petals from a flower.
Erwin opened his eyes, smiling faintly at his companion. “I don’t need to exert myself with spells and incantations to divine that much, Herr Geissner. You’ve had something burning at the tip of your tongue since we left Waldenhof. Perhaps now is the time to get such doubts out in the open.”
“Fair enough, hierophant,” Heiko responded. So long as Erwin was talking, Heiko would play along with him. He took a deep breath, then asked the question that had been plaguing him for days. “In the tunnels, it seemed to me you recognised the man who was leading the soldiers. In fact, you were shocked to find him there. I would know what your relationship with that man is.”
Erwin nodded his head sagely. “Ah, so that is it.” He looked directly into Heiko’s eyes. When he spoke again there was a note of challenge in the wizard’s voice. “Before I answer that question, I would hear some answers of my own. I can tell that the man is not unknown to you either. You ask me what relationship I might have had with him. I would repeat that question in regards to yourself.”
“Very well,” Heiko sighed. “The man’s name is Rudolf Haupt-Anderssen, younger brother to the elector count of Stirland. My relationship with him…” Heiko paused, his mind retreating back through the corridors of memory. “I have been tutor, mentor, and later adversary and rival for his brother’s ear. He is also directly responsible for the situation you rescued me from.”
“And what else?” Erwin said accusingly.
Heiko’s face curled into a snarl. The wizard was using some sort of magic. Perhaps not enough to actually penetrate his mind, but enough to guess that Heiko was keeping something back.
“Nothing more that need concern you,” Heiko spat. Erwin simply smiled.
“If you do not answer my questions, how can I entrust you with what I know?” Erwin’s smug smile was like that of a cat creeping out from a songbird’s cage. He had never intended to divulge how Heiko’s situation related to his own, assuming his own demands for candour would be too much for the former envoy to stomach. But he had not considered the man’s pride, or his conscience.
“It was a little over ten years ago,” Heiko began. “The old elector count was dead and the young Alberich was only a few years into his rule as Graf of Stirland. The climate in Waldenhof was tense, the oldest of the noble families smelled opportunity in the air. Like a pack of jackals, they sensed weakness in the young elector count and sought to undermine him, to supplant him with one of their own.”
He thought back to those dark days of intrigue, of his double agents who informed upon the treacherous schemes of Stirland’s nobility. In those days, Rudolf and himself had shared common cause, both working together to preserve the rule of Graf Alberich. But Heiko had made one grievous error in judgement. He had been so intent upon uncovering some plot to implicate Graf Alberich, he’d failed to appreciate how the elector count’s own actions might have far worse consequences.
“There was a woman, a young Ostermark girl working at the Velvet Dawn, one of Waldenhof’s houses of entertainment,” the words did not come easily to Heiko’s lips, but now he would have to tell all. “Her name was Anya, and the elector count visited her frequently. There was little in Waldenhof that transpired in those days that did not quickly reach my ears, but I did nothing to interfere with Alberich’s excursions to the brothel. Young men are young men, after all. Then one of the other noble families learned of Alberich’s regular visits. I had not reckoned upon their craft, or their own network of informants. They decided to involve the Temple of Sigmar in the matter, and focus not upon the fact that Alberich was visiting the brothel, but that he was always seeing the same girl. They made the case that Anya had bewitched the young elector count, that he had given over his heart to a common whore. They set out with a group of outraged priests to catch Alberich redhanded, as it were. I learned of their intentions just in time to reach the Velvet Dawn ahead of them. I sent Graf Alberich scrambling out a back window minutes before the scheming nobles and stern-faced priests broke down Anya’s door. The disgrace that might have been Graf Alberich’s became my own,” Heiko told the wizard. He felt once more the sickening loss that had toppled him from his respected position as chamberlain. “With the girl, I concocted a story that it had been myself, not the elector count, who had been visiting her, using his name to impress and awe her. The nobles knew I was lying, but they could not prove it. Anya supported my story in order to protect Graf Alberich, and all the other denizens of the brothel wisely judged that their healthiest option was to stay clear of the affair. In their frustration, the nobles demanded that I be withdrawn from my former position for denigrating my office. In order to appease them, Graf Alberich had no choice but to do as they demanded.”
“And what of the girl?” Erwin inquired. Heiko shook his head. It had been painful enough to disclose as much as he had, but the wizard would only be content with the whole story.
“She could not remain in Waldenhof. There was too much scandal and notoriety around her. Moreover, it was feared that the nobles might continue to press her and that she would eventually confess what had truly happened. It was arranged that she would be sent to a Shallyan sisterhood in the hills outside Wurtbad. Her caravan was ambushed by orcs on the road. There were no survivors.” The words hung as empty and worthless as they had when Heiko had first spoken them to Graf Alberich, so many years ago.
A wizard devoted to the pursuit of knowledge recognised a lie when he heard one. “Why was she killed?” Erwin asked. “Rudolf felt she could not be trusted to keep the secret,” Heiko stated. “He has always been fanatically devoted to his brother and would not permit this threat to continue. I sent her away to try to save her life. Then word reached me that Rudolf had sent men to ensure Anya never reached the convent.”
“You did nothing to stop him?”
Heiko shuddered as he heard those words spoken. Rhya preserve him, that was exactly what he had done—nothing. He could have sent men to intercept the caravan, to stop the assassins Rudolf had dispatched. Instead, he had burned the report his spy had given him, opened a bottle of Estalian brandy and tried to drown his conscience. “Where she had been sent, others might find her. Away from the guiding influence of myself and Graf Alberich, her resolve might crack, she might confess what had happened. Rudolf was unwilling to take that chance. He sent some of his irregulars to ambush Anya’s caravan and make it look like an orc massacre. I knew about it, and, may Rhya forgive me, I was grateful. Grateful that Rudolf was able to do what I could not.” Heiko shook his head, trying to fight down the guilt that welled up inside him. “I think that is why he hates me so. He feels I forced him into murder. I knew about Graf Alberich’s liaisons, I could have stopped them. Instead, I let them go on.”
Erwin nodded, digesting Heiko’s words. When he spoke, his own voice was filled with emotion, bespeaking a cold, terrible dread. “I met the man you call Rudolf in Altdorf,” Erwin said. “He approached me bearing the seal of Sigmar and documents that identified him as a servant of the Temple, a witch hunter. He told me that his order had uncovered a conspiracy to steal certain artefacts from some of the Empire’s most prestigious collections. I was to place protective wards upon them, to safeguard the relics for the witch hunters.” Erwin was trembling now, the fear inside him making his body shake like an old leaf. “Now I learn that it was all a deception, a pretence. The man who engaged me was not a witch hunter. It will make the Order of Sigmar even more determined to catch me. Now I am a heretic who has aided creatures of Chaos, and used the name of their order to do so. When they eventually find me, they will be a long time in killing me.”
Heiko could find no words to reassure the wizard. The tenacity of the witch hunters was legendary, he could readily imagine they would be even more zealous in pursuing a sorcerer who they believed had defamed their order. But he was even more troubled by Erwin’s revelation that it had been Rudolf who commissioned the casting of the wards. It indicated that he had, in some way, learned of the skaven plot and tried to stop it. But if that were true, then why had he later been at odds with Heiko about the very existence of such monsters?
“Both our lives are on borrowed time,” Heiko told the wizard. “All we can do now is try to make what we have left account for something. In a few days more we will reach the dwarf stronghold of Karak Kadrin. Perhaps there we will find the help we need to strike back at these monsters, to work their ruin as they have ensured ours.”
