CHAPTER ELEVEN

 

 

Wolf and Ustnar led the way off the bridge, sword and axe at the ready in case of another barbaric assault. They took the northern exit, past the stone pillars and through the passageway carved out of the solid rock, heading for the heart of Marienburg.

The tollkeeper at the entrance to the bridge lay dead, what was left of him; the troops in the guardhouse were also bloody corpses, mutilated by the skaven.

The same must have happened to the men on the other side of the bridge after Konrad and Wolf had begun their ascent.

As the four made their way cautiously down the winding lane from High Bridge, Mannslieb rose in the east, dissolving the darkest shadows where more enemies might have lurked, and illuminating their route to the city. Down below were the lights of houses, voices could be heard, and a few dim shapes were visible in the streets. Nobody was yet aware of what had happened a hundred yards further back, high above their heads.

And no one might ever know. By dawn tomorrow, the bridge would most likely be devoid of dead vermin. Their corpses would have vanished during the night, spirited away by the skaven of Marienburg who had come to collect their kin. All that would remain were the bodies of the guards, mysteriously slain, and the five butchered horses.

Reaching the river near where a slipway angled down into the cold dark waters of the Reik, Konrad waded straight in. He was still holding his dagger in his right hand, and he immersed himself completely to wash away the skaven gore which coated his flesh and his clothes, and to bathe his own wounds. Wolf had been wearing his black armour during the battle, and so the blood and bones and brains of the beasts he had slain would have to be wiped off the metal before it dried to a stinking crust. He bent down at the water’s edge, wiping his face clean.

If anything, Ustnar was even more contaminated than Konrad. His beard and hair were matted with skaven slime. Despite this, he was very reluctant to soak himself. He stood watching as Konrad stripped off his clothes, until finally his own hatred of water became secondary to his loathing of the putrid remains which were splattered across him. He tugged off his outer furs, then slowly walked into the river and ducked his head beneath the surface. He kept hold of his battle axe. Konrad and the dwarf stood two yards apart, warily watching each other, but neither of them spoke.

Only Litzenreich had not been touched by the alien blood, and he waited at the top of the slipway. He held his arms out in front of himself, as if studying them, comparing his left hand with where his right should have been.

No matter how much Konrad rubbed at himself and what he wore, he could not remove the fetid stench of rodent death. His body needed to soak in a hot bath and his clothes would have to be destroyed. He climbed up from the river and onto the quayside, wringing out his shirt and then putting it back on. As he did so he shivered, and behind him he heard Ustnar sneeze. He was glad his hair was not as long as the dwarf’s, and that his beard had not yet grown to its previous thickness.

“We must find somewhere to stay for the night,” Wolf said to him. “Where you can get dry and warm, and where I can get clean.”

“We shall join you,” Litzenreich announced.

“Will you?” said Wolf.

“There are various matters we must discuss.”

“I’m not discussing anything with you, you treacherous bastard. Get out of my sight before I—” Wolf gripped the hilt of his sword, and Ustnar hurried up the slipway to step between him and Litzenreich.

“We ought to continue our truce,” said Litzenreich. “We have much in common. We were on that bridge at exactly the same time, yet going in opposite directions, when those creatures attacked us. For us to have met precisely there and then, was that coincidence?”

“Yes!”

Wolf sensed Konrad watching him, and he shrugged.

Coincidence, chance, luck: Wolf did not believe in any of them.

“All right,” he conceded, “we’ll talk.”

And so they did.

Marienburg’s very existence depended upon the sea and the river which flowed into the ocean, and it was a city of water as well as of land. Its bridges were more than merely links between the different districts; they were as much a part of the city as any of its roads. They happened to be built above the water instead of upon land, but the widest of them were like any other street in any part of the Empire; they were lined with houses, shops, taverns.

The four reluctant allies found rooms in one such tavern, the Eight Bells, which was in the centre of one of the bridges across the Tussenkanal, one of the Reik’s many tributaries. Konrad’s first request was for a hot tub, his second for a change of clothes. The garments had probably come from a guest who had been unable to settle his bill, but they were a lot cleaner than the ones Konrad discarded.

Wolf had requested that their evening meal was served in his room, so that his conversation with Litzenreich could not be overheard. It was too late to hide the fact that they were together. Ustnar said hardly anything all evening, and Litzenreich spoke as though he did not exist. The dwarf sat with his axe by his side, ready to dismember Wolf should he make a move against the wizard. Wolf’s black sword belt was slung over the back of the chair where he sat.

Konrad was equally sparing with his words. He had little to say, but there was much to be learned by listening. While they ate, he had great difficulty keeping his eyes open. This was the first time he had been indoors for weeks, and the first time he had been warm during that period. The heat from the fire was making him lethargic, but even before the battle with the rat beasts he was exhausted from the long journey to Marienburg, and he would have preferred sleeping to eating.

“I was crossing the bridge to take a boat to Altdorf,” explained Litzenreich. “And you?”

Wolf took his time before answering. It seemed that he did not trust what the wizard had told him, which Konrad could well understand, and so he was reluctant to reveal his own intentions. He chewed slowly upon a piece of mutton, and then inspected a lump of gristle he had extracted from his mouth, while deciding his reply.

“We had only just arrived in Marienburg, and we were also planning to head for Altdorf,” he said, truthfully.

“I had been here for some while, but decided it was time to return to the capital.”

“Return?”

“I was a guest of the Altdorf army. It is a long story, but your friend…” Litzenreich gestured with his fork towards Konrad.

“Konrad,” said Wolf.

“Yes, he knows some of it.” The sorcerer rubbed at the stump of his right arm. “I kept heading downriver, although not in the river. I finally reached Marienburg, which I thought would suit my purposes most admirably. Being a port, one can find almost every kind of commodity if one knows where to look and who to ask. And if one can pay the price. You know the kind of substance to which I am referring, of course?”

“Warpstone.” Wolf spat out the word, and he glanced from Litzenreich to Konrad, realizing that the enigmatic substance linked the two of them. “You know what warpstone is?”

Konrad nodded. He knew, or he thought that he did; but he also knew that nothing could be certain.

“Warpstone is the stuff of Chaos,” said Wolf, “and Chaos is the source of all magic. You know that?”

Konrad nodded again, although he was unaware of when he had discovered this. It may have been one of the things which Galea had told him, or possibly he had gradually grown aware of it during his dealings with Litzenreich.

“Magic and Chaos and evil are one and the same,” Wolf asserted.

Litzenreich laughed, spraying food over the table, then shook his head in disbelief.

Konrad assumed that Wolf was biased because of how he had been adversely affected by sorcery and sorcerers throughout his life, from his brother’s treachery right through to whatever Litzenreich had done to him. By now, Konrad no longer believed everything that he heard from Wolf—or anyone else. It was too simplistic to associate magic with evil. Maybe Litzenreich was correct: Chaos did not necessarily mean evil. It was there, it was a part of the world. The effects of Chaos, whether positive or negative, were open to interpretation.

“My life was saved by magic,” said Konrad.

“By science,” Litzenreich said.

But Konrad was not referring to the way he had been extracted from the bronze armour. He held out his right arm.

“That elf,” he said to Wolf. “Remember?”

Litzenreich glanced at Konrad’s right arm, then at his own. “You were healed by an elf?” he asked, and Konrad nodded. “A pity I could not find one to help me. I thought elven magic only worked on elves, but that proves how the art is always advancing. And that is why I have to get back to Altdorf. I need more warp-stone to continue my research. There is very little in Marienburg.”

“And you think we’re going to help you?” said Wolf.

“I believe we are going to help each other, that our interests are the same. Why do you wish to go to Altdorf?”

Wolf looked at Konrad, and he told Litzenreich: “We weren’t doing much, so we thought we’d rescue the Emperor and save the Empire. Konrad tells me that the skaven are up to some kind of mischief, that there’s a replica of Karl-Franz waiting to step into his shoes.”

“That is correct. It was constructed by Gaxar.”

“Gaxar!”

“Yes, but he is dead now. He—er—Konrad, he killed him in the catacombs of Altdorf when I escaped.” He glanced at his right arm. “Or most of me.”

Konrad was watching Wolf, whose teeth were bared in rage, whose eyes were wide in anger, whose fists were clenched in fury, whose muscles were tensed in wrath.

Litzenreich had taken Konrad to Middenheim when he was trapped within the bronze armour; and deep below Middenheim was where Konrad had first encountered Gaxar in his skaven form. But long before that, it was Middenheim where Litzenreich had betrayed Wolf, leaving him to die. Evidently, this treachery had something to do with Gaxar. Was it the grey seer who had almost slain him?

Wolf and Gaxar…

 

It seemed that nothing Konrad had ever done was of his own volition, he had merely been playing out the role assigned to him. No matter what he did, he was always restricted to the confines of the intricate web whose strands linked everyone he had ever known.

And now he sat and watched and listened while Wolf and Litzenreich planned the next part of his life; but first the sorcerer told Wolf of recent events in Middenheim and Altdorf.

“You’ve been busy, Konrad,” said Wolf. “I always thought I’d encounter Gaxar again and settle my score with him, but it appears you’ve saved me the trouble.” He looked at Litzenreich, then continued, “But with Gaxar dead, what about the impostor he created? Wouldn’t that also have died?”

“Not necessarily,” answered Litzenreich. “Gaxar must have reanimated a corpse, transforming it into a likeness of the Emperor. The doppelganger was already one of the undead, and so how could it die?”

“But without the skaven’s wizardry to keep it whole, it would have rotted away.”

“The replica still exists, I am sure. Although its creation was the most difficult part, it can still fulfil its function. There are many other grey seers who can see to that. Even without Gaxar, the skaven can carry out their plan to replace the Emperor.”

This was what Konrad had previously surmised, but he knew that Litzenreich did not care about the Emperor. As the wizard had already admitted, it was warpstone that he wanted. There were skaven in Altdorf, and that meant there was warpstone there. But he had to convince Wolf that the skaven were still a danger to Karl-Franz, and that only he could counter the threat.

Perhaps it was even true, or some of it.

Litzenreich had been a skaven prisoner beneath Altdorf, and he had no wish to be captured again. He must have believed that his return to the capital would be less dangerous if he were aided by Wolf and Konrad, and if he aided them.

“Our interests are the same?” said Wolf, repeating Litzenreich’s earlier words.

“Yes.”

Wolf shrugged. “Maybe.”

“Yes,” Litzenreich insisted.

“Then we’ll head for Altdorf together.”

For a moment, Konrad wondered if Litzenreich had persuaded Wolf by using his powers of mesmerism. The two were sitting opposite, and the wizard had been staring directly at Wolf while they conversed. But then Wolf glanced at Konrad, and from his expression Konrad knew that he would still like to slit Litzenreich’s throat.

“Good,” said Litzenreich, raising his wine glass in a toast.

Wolf and Konrad lifted their tankards. Ustnar gazed out of the window to the darkened city, and he belched.

“When do we leave?” asked the sorcerer.

“As soon as our army is ready.”

“Our army?”

“Ustnar can be handy with his axe,” said Wolf, “and you have a few tricks up your sleeve, but it will take more than that to get us into the capital. We’re going to invade Altdorf with an army of mercenaries.”

“Do you think that is wise?”

“I don’t know, but it’s the best chance we’ve got.”

“If you march an army on Altdorf, they will know that we are coming.”

“They’ll know as soon as I start recruiting. And we’ll be going by river, not marching.”

“I see,” said Litzenreich, nodding his head. He took a sip of wine, then wiped his mouth with the back of his left hand. There was a vivid scar in the centre of his palm, where it had been nailed to the ground. “A diversion? I also considered it would be best if we four went alone. That is what we do, while your army engages the city troops?”

“Yes.”

“Will it not take some considerable time to recruit these mercenaries?”

“Maybe.”

“I have a better idea.”

Wolf sighed. “What?”

“Instead of hiring an army and then hiring boats to transport them, why not simply enlist a pirate ship or two? There are Imperial spies in Marienburg who will soon discover what has happened and report to the capital. But to make sure that they do hear about the proposed attack, I am sure the brigands could be persuaded to burn a few Reik villages on the voyage upstream.”

Wolf stared at Litzenreich. It was clear that he was impressed with the wizard’s strategy, and it was equally apparent that he did not want to show how impressed.

“Maybe,” he said, and he nodded. “We could leave the vessels long before Altdorf, because the authorities won’t want the ships to get anywhere near the city. They’ll probably blockade the river, so the pirates will never be able to attack, and send out troops to destroy them. That in itself should provide enough of a diversion for us to get into the capital.”

“Excellent,” said Litzenreich. “We will save the Emperor from the skaven, and for my services I will claim whatever warpstone can be found.”

They would be up against far more than the skaven, thought Konrad, but that would probably make little difference to Litzenreich. The only thing that had ever interested him was warpstone, and the mutated rodents were the most likely source of the material. This was why he had planned to return to the Imperial capital even before he encountered Wolf and Konrad.

“Despite my talents,” added Litzenreich, as he glanced from Wolf to Konrad to Ustnar, “I always like to have the backing of skilled fighters with ready blades.”

“You’ll need a new sword, Konrad,” said Wolf.

“How about a bow and arrow?” said Konrad.

“Peasant weapon,” said Wolf, with a slight smile.

It was an arrow fired by Konrad which had saved Wolf from being sacrificed by a goblin shaman. The shaman had been the first to die when Konrad had entered the subterranean temple where Wolf was held a helpless hostage.

“You’ve never had a sword of your own, have you?” Wolf continued. “It’s time you did.” He touched the hilt of his black sword—and Ustnar reached for the handle of his axe.

“Magnin the steelsmith has a good reputation,” added Wolf, ignoring Ustnar. “We could pay him a visit after we have concluded our business in Altdorf.”

“If you want a sword,” said Litzenreich, “perhaps I can help.”

“You can make a magic sword?” sneered Wolf.

“Ustnar knows the best swordsmith in Marienburg,” said Litzenreich, referring to the dwarf for the first time. “What’s his name?”

“Barra,” grunted Ustnar.

“He made Ustnar’s new axe. Would you recommend his craftsmanship?”

“Yes, boss.”

“If you want a sword, Barra is the one to make it.”

“Can I look at the axe?” asked Wolf, holding out his hand.

“You can look,” said Ustnar, as he demonstrated by glancing towards the double-bladed weapon. “But the only way you can touch is with it buried in your skull.”

Wolf smiled. “One of these days, Ustnar, we’ll resume where we were interrupted today.” He turned to Konrad. “You want a sword?”

Konrad shrugged. “I haven’t got a sword so I need one, but I don’t know if I want my own. When it comes to combat, it’s the man who matters, not the weapon.”

“It’s the man and the weapon. While I find some pirates who would like to try their hand looting Altdorf, you can have a sword made. I’m sure Ustnar will be only too delighted to introduce you to Barra.”

Konrad and Ustnar looked at each other.

“Delighted,” muttered Ustnar.

 

* * *

 

“Litzenreich can be useful,” said Wolf, once the wizard and the dwarf had gone.

“He thinks that about us,” said Konrad.

“As long as he believes that about us, and we believe the same about him, then everything should work out. I’d rather have Litzenreich with us, because that way I know exactly where the bastard is.”

“Are we going to do what you said? Find a gang of pirates to attack Altdorf?”

“Yes.”

“How are you going to persuade them?”

“With promises of untold wealth—because Altdorf is the richest city in the Empire, in the Old World—and with lies. I’ll convince them that the capital is a succulent fruit, ripe for the picking, and that I have the keys to the orchard.” He grinned. “I read that in a book once, although I think it was about some harem in Araby.”

“Will they believe you?”

“I don’t know, but that’s my problem. You think about what type of sword you want. Once you have your own blade, handcrafted to your own specifications, you will never want to use another sword.”

That was what concerned Konrad, and what he began thinking of when he went into his own room. Over the years he had lost so many blades; the one snatched from his grasp today was simply the latest in a long line. They had been broken in combat, or they had decayed through contact with venomous enemy blood.

A sword was a sword, a killing implement. Some were better than others, but he had learned how to handle all types. He had been taught by experts, frontier mercenaries whom Wolf had appointed as his tutors, and he had taught himself.

Although he felt exhausted, sleep refused to come. He was too busy considering the events of the last hours, and what was to happen between now and their arrival in Altdorf—and after.

They had been attacked by a swarm of skaven, which meant that their enemies already knew they were in Marienburg. Cities always made Konrad nervous, and he felt vulnerable. The tiny room in the Eight Bells was like a trap. In spite of the draught, he lay near the open window in the hope that he could leap down into the river below if the tavern were assaulted, and he kept his dagger in his hand.

Konrad thought about the scheme to attack Altdorf. It was meant as a diversion, so that the four of them could enter the city more easily But what if the pirates succeeded in smashing through the city’s defences? What if the corrupted Imperial guard and all the other armies of the damned that secretly dwelled in Altdorf joined the invaders to burn and loot and destroy the capital? Was that not exactly what the legions of Chaos wanted to happen?

All that was left of the Imperial capital would be decay and ruins, the ideal environment for the skaven. No longer would the ratbeasts inhabit labyrinthine lairs beneath the city, because the whole of Altdorf would have become theirs.