[Storm of Magic 01] - Razumov's Tomb Read online

  Captain Stoltz nodded. He was surprised. Their journey through the Howling Hills had been far worse than any of them could have predicted. His grey beard was flecked with dried blood and there were several new dents in his plate armour. After the pegasi, a string of strange creatures had launched attacks—monsters whose anatomy was bewildering in its complexity. None of these encounters had been as testing as the first skirmish, but several more knights had died and Stoltz was relieved to see that their destination was still intact.

  He nodded at the walls nearest the gates. As the vile glow of Morrslieb washed over the stones, it revealed a network of cracks and scorch marks. “Looks like they’ve been dealing with these beasts for a lot longer than we have.”

  The reiksgraf straightened his monocle and flared his nostrils. “Well, their trials are now over. Whatever has been assailing them will meet the same fate as everything else we’ve encountered.” He mounted his horse and waved his men onwards.

  As the glittering columns of knights snaked through the darkness, a lone trumpet blast rang out from the battlements and Schwarzbach’s huge, south gate swung open in greeting.

  A few bleary-eyed townspeople stumbled out onto the road as the reiksgraf led his men towards them. Some of them cheered and rushed to greet their rescuers, but Stoltz saw that they did not stray too far from the gate and they watched the hills anxiously until the knights had all entered the town and the gates had slammed shut.

  “Who is in charge here?” cried the reiksgraf, surveying the town. The buildings were built in a similar architectural style to those in the capital—a claustrophobic crush of teetering, half-timbered houses, all leaning out over the flagstones in a huddle of narrow, leaded windows and crooked, spire-like gables. Dozens more people began emerging from their houses, and as they all began to speak, it quickly became impossible to make out anything in the din.

  The reiksgraf frowned and held up a hand to silence the mob, but the cries just grew louder as more of the townsfolk emerged from their houses.

  “My lord,” cried Captain Stoltz, pointing to the far end of the square.

  Two groups of men were making their way through the growing crowd. The first was a led by a stern-faced veteran, and looked to be the local watch—they were clad in thick leather jerkins and carrying lanterns that revealed brief glimpses of their anxious faces. The second group was a unit of armoured state troops, mounted on warhorses and led by a hugely obese man carried upon a palanquin. Stoltz noticed that the veteran leading the watch seemed desperate to reach the reiksgraf before the other soldiers, but he was only halfway across the square when the state troops overtook him.

  “Welcome!” cried the fat man as his soldiers helped him down onto the flagstones. He waddled over to the reiksgraf and held out his hands in greeting. “I’m Bürgermeister Thadeus Groot. You cannot imagine how delighted I am to see you!”

  The reiksgraf dismounted and gave the bürgermeister a stiff nod. Then he waved at the excited crowds pressing around them. “Is there anywhere we can talk, Bürgermeister Groot?”

  “Of course, of course!” Groot nodded to the wiry, hooknosed officer at his side. “Sergeant Zelter can see to your men, if you’d like to come with me.”

  The reiksgraf spoke to Captain Stoltz without looking at him. “Come and find me when the men are settled.” Then he stepped closer to the bürgermeister and pointed out the wizards’ black carriage. “I’m here as an escort for the Grand Astromancer of the Celestial College, Caspar Vyborg, and his colleague, Gabriel Bloch. The Grand Astromancer wishes to speak to you regarding a matter of the utmost importance.”

  Groot’s eyes widened. “The Grand Astromancer, you say? That’s wonderful news.”

  The reiksgraf frowned. “The arrival of a wizard is rarely greeted with such enthusiasm, Bürgermeister Groot. Are you acquainted with Magister Vyborg?”

  The bürgermeister suppressed his smile and clutched his hands together, looking suddenly nervous. “No, general, we’re not acquainted.” He waved at the holes and scorch marks that covered Schwarzbach’s ramparts. “I’m as wary of sorcery as the next man but, in the current situation, it seems to be our only hope.” He peered at the wizards’ black carriage. Caspar’s tiny, wrinkled face was just visible, squinting out at the raucous crowds. “Is that him?”

  The reiksgraf nodded proudly.

  Groot smiled again. “If anyone can liberate Schwarzbach, then it’s the Grand Astromancer himself.”

  There was a clatter of barding and hooves as the knights were escorted to their quarters. As the crowds began to disperse, the reiksgraf led the bürgermeister towards the black carriage. “I’m afraid that things are far worse than you might imagine, Bürgermeister Groot.” He waved at the Chaos moon, hanging low over the rooftops. “This madness is Empire-wide. You’re not the only town to have been cut off.”

  As they reached the carriage, Groot nodded earnestly. “We should retire to my town house.” His eyes widened as the two wizards climbed down onto the square and looked around. “It sounds like we have a lot to discuss.”

  As soon as the other knights were settled in their lodgings, Captain Stoltz set off to find the reiksgraf. He cursed under his breath as he considered the offhand way the general had dismissed him. “The young brat should remember his manners,” he hissed as he hurried through the narrow, winding streets. After a few minutes, he realised he must have taken a wrong turn. The streets were getting narrower and darker, and there was no sign of the square. He clattered to a halt and lurched off in another direction, heading for a distant row of turrets that looked vaguely familiar. The street became an unpaved, muddy path that ran between a jumble of rundown shacks and outbuildings. “Where am I?” he growled, coming to a stop again and spinning around. Between two of the shacks, he thought he could just about see the town wall. “Right,” he muttered, “let’s follow that back to the gate.”

  Stoltz had only taken a few steps when he heard a man cry out, either in pain or anger.

  He clenched his jaw as he looked down a narrow, dismal-looking side street. There was a faint light flickering in a window. “I don’t have time for this,” he muttered, but as he continued on his way the voice cried out again. The scream was even more desperate this time and it was followed by a crash of splintering wood.

  He looked back down the darkened alleyway, still reluctant to get involved, when a young redheaded boy bolted towards him out of the darkness. The youth was going to race straight past, but Stoltz grabbed him by the arm and pulled him close. “What’s your game, lad?” he growled. “Up to no good, eh?”

  The youth stared at him in terror and struggled to escape. Then he noticed the heraldry on the knight’s breastplate and became still. “You’re not from Schwarzbach,” he gasped, with sudden hope in his eyes.

  Stoltz shook his head and was about to speak when he was interrupted by the sound of more smashing wood and another agonised cry.

  “You have to help Steffan!” cried the boy, gripping the knight’s arms. “They’re killing him! All we did was try to leave!”

  Stoltz freed himself from the boy’s grip and glared at him. “Who’s Steffan?”

  “He’s the captain of the watch!” cried the pale-faced youth, pointing down the alleyway. “Groot’s sent his men to murder him!”

  Stoltz shook his head and laughed incredulously. “The bürgermeister? Why would he murder the captain of his own watch?”

  The boy leaned closer and lowered his voice to a venomous hiss. “Because Steffan has learned the truth about him!”

  Stoltz wondered if the boy might be deranged. He certainly looked unhinged. The sounds of fighting were growing in volume though, so, after giving the town wall one last wistful look, he allowed the boy to lead him to the house.

  The front door was in splinters and the foul lunar light revealed a group of figures inside, lurching back and forth and hissing feral curses at each other.

  Just as the knight stepped into the doorway, there was a lou
d bang and the room filled with smoke and the smell of saltpetre.

  Stoltz shoved the boy behind him, drew his sword and bellowed into the smoke. “What’s going on here?”

  One of the figures dropped heavily to the floor and the others rushed towards Captain Stoltz. The first man to emerge had his hair swept back from his angular face in a long, black ponytail and Captain Stoltz realised to his shock that he recognised him.

  “Sergeant Zelter?” gasped Stoltz, frowning as he realised it was the officer who had escorted them to the barracks. He looked barely recognisable. His eyes were staring and wild and a few strands of his hair had come loose and were plastered across his pale, sweaty face.

  “What’s happening?” demanded Stoltz.

  The officer recoiled, obviously horrified to be recognised. “Captain Stoltz,” he gasped, lowering the smoking flintlock pistol in his hand. “What are you doing here?”

  As the other figures stepped out into the moonlight, Stoltz saw that they were all state troops and that several of them were bloodied or bruised. He shook his head in confusion and was about to speak when the boy broke free from his grip and dashed away.

  “They’ve murdered him!” he cried as he disappeared into the dark.

  Stoltz shook his head in disbelief, but as he looked hack at the house he saw that the smoke was clearing, revealing a body sprawled on the floor, blood pumping from a terrible chest wound. It was the stern-faced man who had tried to approach the reiksgraf in the town square.

  “Is that the captain of the watch?” he asked, stepping a little closer. “Have you been attacked?”

  Captain Stoltz let out a grunt of annoyance as Sergeant Zelter poked him in the side of his chest. “What are you doing?” he said, scowling at the soldier in confusion.

  The sergeant’s face twisted into a furious grimace. “Why did you have to come down this street?”

  Captain Stoltz shook his head. “What do you mean?” Then he noticed that the sergeant had dropped his pistol and now had a long, thin knife in his hand. The blade was dripping with fresh blood and, as pain exploded in his side, Stoltz realised he had been stabbed. Falling to the floor, he tried to speak but found that his mouth was full of warm blood.

  Sergeant Zelter leaned over him, drawing back his dagger to strike again, and Captain Stoltz noticed that the soldier’s sleeve was torn and that the skin beneath was covered in hideous, open sores.

  As he took his last gurgling breath, Stoltz was sure that the sores were opening and closing, revealing tiny, jagged teeth.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Groot frowned in confusion. “And this Razumov built his tower in Schwarzbach?”

  They were sitting in the bürgermeister’s study. It was a handsome, oak-panelled room, lined with now-useless books and lit by the warm glow of the oil lamp perched on the mantle beside Groot’s desk. Caspar and Gabriel were seated opposite Groot in comfortable, high-backed armchairs, and the reiksgraf was standing just inside the door, as proud and motionless as a decorative suit of armour. It was a cosy scene. For a few seconds, an observer might have imagined that the plagues had ended and the Empire was sane once more; then they would have noticed the endless ticking of the beetles, crawling across the casement windows and scurrying across the floorboards.

  “No,” replied Caspar, glaring at one of the beetles. “Razumov lived many, many centuries ago. We’re not sure exactly when, but he built his tower long before the days of Schwarzbach. Maybe even before the time of Sigmar.”

  The confused expression remained on Groot’s face. “Then what do you expect to find after all these years?”

  Gabriel leaned forward, his pale, skeletal face as emotionless as ever. “The tower was a conduit. The state of the bricks and mortar is unimportant. We’re here to complete Razumov’s ritual.” He waved out of the window at the dazzling face of Morrslieb. “He channelled vast quantities of azyr through the tower. There will be an indelible link with the luminary bodies. No length of time would diminish it.”

  Groot nodded and leaned back in his chair, causing the wood to creak under the pressure. “I see.” He continued looking at Gabriel for a few seconds. “And, if you were to achieve this—I mean, if you manage to raise the tower somehow—what would happen then?”

  Gabriel shook his head, looking utterly bored. “In the current situation, it is impossible to know. If the ritual is completed as Morrslieb waxes full, whoever is in control of the tower will unleash a great power.”

  Caspar leaned forward, his rheumy eyes glittering with excitement. “Do you understand, bürgermeister? If I can do this, I will channel the winds of magic at their most powerful. Just think what I could achieve. The monsters that have besieged you are just a part of the story. The whole Empire is blighted, but if I can do this thing, I could set the world back on its axis.” He slammed his staff on the floor, crushing the beetle with undisguised glee. “History will be made here, bürgermeister, tomorrow night.”

  The 29th of Jahrdrung dawned with a chorus of howls and a crash of splintering wood.

  For the fifth time that week, the proud walls of Schwarzbach braced themselves against a ferocious beastmen attack. A tide of cloven hooves, snarling bovine snouts and brutal iron blades thundered down from the hills and slammed against the town gates. The attackers vaguely resembled men, but their belched war cries carried no trace of humanity and, as they threw themselves uselessly against the walls, their eyes burned with animal hunger.

  Arrows rained down from the battlements as the exhausted state troops began another long day of battle. As the soldiers fired down on the ocean of scarred flesh, they had to shield their eyes from a blinding emerald glare. Morrslieb had now waxed full and grown so vast that it obscured the heavens, its maleficent glare driving the beastmen into a frenzy of bloodlust. As they reached the gates, a huge bull-headed brute rose above the others and roared out a series of commands, waving at the gates with a battered two-handed axe. From deep within the mass of fur-clad bodies emerged a crude, iron-clad battering ram and, as the bull-headed figure continued to bellow his orders, the beastmen began pounding it against the gates, filling the narrow streets with an ominous booming sound.

  As the gates buckled and creaked, it quickly became clear that they would not last the morning—the supports cracked and groaned pitifully as the creatures piled their weight against them. Hollow-cheeked men shook their heads in fear as they watched the endless waves of attackers charging towards them. Arrows flew wide of their marks as soldiers’ hands began to shake with fear. None of them had ever seen such a vast gathering of beastmen. As the monsters scaled the walls, the moonlight flashed in their black, merciless eyes and glinted along their jagged blades.

  As the noise of battle swelled, Reiksgraf Niclas von Südenhorst calmly polished his monocle and pushed it into place. He and his knights were mustered in the street, on foot, just a few feet behind the creaking gates, and from this close the noise of the enemy was deafening. Their feral chant boomed through the gates like a storm, battering against the gnarled oak.

  The reiksgraf drew his sword and his knights did the same, filling the square with the sound of scraping metal. He turned to look back at the gleaming, orderly ranks and nodded in satisfaction. Their faces showed no trace of the panic that was running riot on the walls. “This is it,” he whispered, turning his gaze back towards the buckling gate. “Even my father never faced such a horde.”

  A squire approached and handed the reiksgraf his tall, winged helmet.

  “Is there still no sign of Captain Stoltz?” snapped the reiksgraf. “He should be here to witness my triumph.”

  “No, my lord,” replied the boy. “He hasn’t been seen since last night.”

  The reiksgraf slammed the helmet in place, unable to hide his irritation. “How inconvenient.” As the boy turned to leave, he called out to him. “Find a good vantage point then. And make sure you see everything that happens. I don’t want my deeds to go unrecorded.”

  The squire bow
ed and hurried gratefully away from the gates.

  “Come on, you filth,” hissed the reiksgraf, willing the gates to break. His whole body was trembling with suppressed energy and his breath was coming in short, snatched gasps. The gates bowed again as the screaming monsters slammed the ram against it. Support struts exploded in a shower of splinters, but the doors still held. The reiksgraf felt as though he was one blow from a place in history. He could already see his name preserved forever in legend and myth.

  He looked back again, over the heads of his knights. The light of the moon threw odd shadows across the tightly packed buildings, making it hard to see anything very clearly, but he could just about make out the square and the town hall at its centre. His chest swelled with pride. The Grand Astromancer was relying on him. The reiksgraf looked down at the keen edge of his sword. On this fateful day, the safety of the whole Empire was in his hands.

  He closed his eyes for a second to whisper a quick prayer. When he opened them again the doors were tumbling, unleashing a tide of such lunacy that, for a few seconds, he froze in horror. Then, as his knights raced past him, the reiksgraf shook his head and joined them, slamming down the visor of his helmet and launching himself into the fray.

  “It’s here.” Gabriel had set up his moondial on the steps of the town hall and was peering at it intently.

  “Are you sure?” cried Caspar, straining to be heard over the attack on the gates. The reiksgraf had left a small group of knights behind to guard the wizards, and Caspar had to barge through them to get a clearer look at the device. Morrslieb was scattering a bewildering combination of shadows across its face and Caspar shook his head in confusion. “How can you understand it?”

  Thaddeus Groot was standing a few feet away, leaning heavily on two of his guards. He was watching Gabriel intently as he turned the metal rings. “Your colleague has a rare skill, Grand Astromancer. Did you say that he will he the one to raise the tower?”