[Gotrek & Felix 12] - Zombieslayer Read online

  Felix and Kat, being neither capable carpenters nor stonemasons, went to work with the demolition gangs, and pried apart the weathered planks of the hayloft then pulled out every nail that could be salvaged. Even on a freezing late winter day, it was hot, dusty work, and they were soon working in their shirts, steam rising from their shoulders into the chilly air.

  Ordinarily, this kind of labour would not have worn Felix out. Years of wandering and fighting had left him in good shape, and he was used to hardship, but even the toughest man could not go long without water, and there wasn’t nearly enough to go around. Every vat and pan and pot in the kitchen was busy boiling water for drinking, but the process wasn’t quick, and the rationing was severe. Every man got a ladleful to go with their single biscuit in the morning, and another in the afternoon, and some got less than that. Both times the crews were called to the mess, the water ran out before everyone got their share.

  Gotrek, Rodi and Snorri never drank, though whether that was because they didn’t need to, or out of sheer stubbornness, or just because it wasn’t beer, Felix wasn’t certain. Regardless, they each did the work of ten men, and never complained or showed any sign of weakness.

  The same could not be said for the men. There were fights at the water barrel when some tried to drink more than their share. Others passed out or vomited from dryness. Felix was nearly one of them. By the late afternoon, he was staggering, and almost fell through a hole in the floor he was prying up. Only a swift grab by Kat stopped him from breaking his neck. Hunger and thirst weren’t entirely to blame, however. Part of his clumsiness stemmed from his inability to keep his mind on the work. He couldn’t stop wondering who the saboteur was.

  All day long he watched his fellow defenders, wondering which one hid the power to shatter a dwarf rune—which was in league with Kemmler. Was it Tauber, like Bosendorfer believed? That would be tidy, for Tauber was already locked up, but somehow Felix doubted the castle was that lucky. But then who? It couldn’t be anybody who had travelled with von Volgen, since the runes had been broken before his force arrived. Was it von Geldrecht? Had he ordered the garrison to hold the castle just so Kemmler could kill them all and swell his ranks with their corpses? Was it Bosendorfer, sowing discord by accusing others of crimes he himself was committing? Was it Father Ulfram? Was his blindness and seeming senility a cover for corrupt power? Was it Sister Willentrude, hiding an evil nature behind a kindly smile? Was it perhaps Graf Reiklander himself, or the Grafin Avelein, hiding in the keep and manipulating the rest of the castle for Kemmler’s gain?

  But why did it have to be one of the leaders? It could be anyone—a knight, a spearman, a groom, a scullery maid. There were too many choices, and too little to go on. It was maddening.

  At least von Geldrecht was following through on his promise to take the necessary steps. As the day wore on, Felix saw him quietly pull aside each of his remaining officers and whisper in their ears, after which those officers began to look suspiciously around at their comrades. Felix supposed that removed von Geldrecht from the list of suspects, but perhaps not. What if he was telling his men to look for the traitor in order to throw them off the scent, or to create suspicion that would weaken the morale of the castle?

  Felix cursed as his mind curled in on itself again, and forced himself to get back to the task at hand. Ceaseless suspicion would not find the saboteur. What they needed was proof, but Felix had no idea what to look for.

  Less than a third of the hoardings were in place by the time the sun vanished completely. The towers of the gatehouse and the sections of wall to the right and left of it had been covered, but that was all. Felix, with little knowledge of these things, thought it was a poor showing, and the slayers grumbled about “manling laziness”, but Bierlitz, the castle’s carpenter, seemed well pleased, saying that given the lack of food and water the men had accomplished more than he expected.

  Nor did the construction stop with the coming of darkness. After Bierlitz dismissed Felix and Kat and the rest of the men who had worked all day, he commandeered men from the night watches to keep at it, and the slayers of course continued without a break.

  Felix left them to it, and stumbled with Kat into the underkeep as the mess bell clanged. It was time for another biscuit.

  “To Captain Zeismann and all our fallen brothers,” said a young sergeant of spearmen, standing and holding up his mug. “He’d not relish being toasted with water, but until we have beer again, let us honour him as we can.”

  The rest of the spearmen stood from their tables in the mess and raised their mugs as well, and Kat, Felix and the other men in the room joined them.

  “To Captain Zeismann and the spearmen,” said the crowd, and everyone knocked back their meagre ration of water in a single slug.

  As they all sat again, a burly river warden stood from among his comrades and raised an empty hand. “And as that was all to drink till morning,” he said, “I ask that you salute Captain Yaekel and his crew with a pledge.” He closed his hand into a fist. “Vengeance!”

  The whole room raised their fists, and the walls echoed with their pledge.

  “Vengeance!”

  The warden inclined his head and sat again, but before everyone could lower their fists, Bosendorfer sprang up onto the table where he had sat with his greatswords.

  “I ask a pledge as well,” he cried. “In the name of greatswords Janus Meier and Abel Roos, and the score of other men who died last night and today from the poisoned wounds that murdered them in their beds.”

  He raised his fist in the air and the room followed suit, with many a “hear hear” and “well said”.

  “Death to the poisoner,” said Bosendorfer. “Death to Surgeon Tauber.”

  Felix and Kat paused at that, and they weren’t the only ones. Though many of the men joined in wholeheartedly, just as many were murmuring and lowering their fists instead of making the pledge. Even some of Bosendorfer’s own men looked uncomfortable.

  Bosendorfer glared around, his eyes blazing. “What is this? Will you not honour my fallen men as you honour Zeismann and Yaekel?”

  Captain Hultz stood from his handgunners. “With a will, captain, if you choose a different pledge,” he said.

  Bosendorfer sneered. “You do not wish the death of our enemies, Hultz?”

  “We don’t all think it was Tauber who done it,” said Hultz. “Choose another enemy and we will pledge.”

  “Sigmar’s hammer, I will not!” shouted Bosendorfer. “I will honour my dead as I see fit, and if you will not join me, then be damned with you!”

  Men stood all over the hall now, choosing sides and shouting at each other, as Bosendorfer continued to rave.

  Felix shook his head and leaned to Volk, whose table he and Kat were sharing. “Why does he hate Tauber so? I remember he spoke of Tauber murdering people during the fighting up north. Was the surgeon accused of worshipping Chaos?”

  Volk shook his head sadly. “Only by Bosendorfer,” he said, then sighed. “When we marched north, the boy was only a sergeant. His brother Karl was the captain of m’lord’s greatswords. But at the end, during the battle of Sokh, one of them Norse shamen blasted our whole left flank with purple fire, and afterwards, some of the men… well, they started to change. Bosendorfer’s brother was one of ’em. His hands—they grew teeth, and other things.”

  The artillery captain swallowed, then went on. “It was standard procedure when that happened, to kill the man on the spot—for his own good, you understand—and Captain Karl was in the sick tent with a broken arm when he started to show, so—”

  “So Tauber did it?” asked Felix.

  Volk nodded. “As gentle as possible. Laudanum, then poison. He just… fell asleep. But young Bosendorfer wouldn’t believe it. He claimed it was Tauber who had made his brother’s changes come, and that he’d killed Karl when he wouldn’t pledge to the Ruinous Powers.” He looked over at the greatswords’ table. “Graf Reiklander himself talked to Bosendorfer, and got him
to agree it wasn’t true. Gave him Karl’s commission too, which might not have been wise, as Bosendorfer ain’t the man his brother was, not by a long shot, but it was a nice gesture, and the greatswords appreciated it, so…”

  “But Bosendorfer doesn’t seem to have really believed Tauber was innocent,” said Felix.

  Volk shook his head. “He’s kept quiet about it till now, but no.”

  Felix watched as Bosendorfer continued to rant. He could see the grief behind the young man’s wild anger now, and felt sorry for him, but one could feel sorry for a savage dog that had been abused, and still not want to be trapped in the same room with it for days—or weeks.

  He finished his last few crumbs of biscuit and turned to Kat. “Shall we?”

  She nodded, glaring at the greatsword captain. “Aye, Felix,” she said. “I’m starting to get an earache.”

  They walked out of the underkeep and into the courtyard where, under the yellow light of flickering lanterns, Gotrek, Rodi and Snorri continued to knock apart the officers’ residence, while the boatmen dumped another load of building stone at the river gate, and the carpenters and the men from the night watches kept on framing the hoardings and carrying them up to the walls.

  Kat looked at all their industry, then shook her head. “None of this is going to matter, is it? We won’t stop them.”

  “Not for long,” said Felix. “But maybe long enough.”

  A cold wind whistled down over the parapet, bringing with it the stench of corpses and the howling of wolves. Felix shivered and put his arm around Kat, and they hurried into the knights’ residence and up to their borrowed room. By the time they had pulled their boots off and lay down on the narrow bed, they were too tired and hungry to do more than curl together and close their eyes.

  Seconds later—or so it seemed—Felix was jerked awake by shouting and cursing and heavy boot steps shaking the residence building.

  Kat came awake too, and blearily reached for her weapons. “That’s on the floor below,” she mumbled. “What’s going on?”

  Felix crawled to the window and looked out. It was still night, and he could see little but the shadows of men running to the door of their residence and going in. Three slower, heavier shadows followed them, walking along with their weapons out.

  Felix grunted. “We’d better go down.”

  He threw on his padded jack and squirmed into his chainmail as Kat pulled on her leathers and the shouting continued. When they were ready, they hurried down to the ground floor, but the shouting was now coming from the cellar, so they continued down and, after following the cacophony through a series of cramped stone passages, came at last to a small round room that was filled with a jumble of machinery, and far too many shouting men.

  The room appeared to be the base of one of the circular towers that rose at the corners of the castle walls, and a great brass and iron contraption of gears and levers and pistons that had a very dwarfish look to it rose in the centre of it. It also looked very broken, with one of the main gears cracked in half, and a piston ruptured and bent.

  Cowering in the lee of the machine were Captain Draeger and his militiamen, while surrounding them were von Geldrecht, his bulk wrapped in a nightshirt and brocade robe, von Volgen, and a crowd of knights and foot soldiers, all holding lanterns and torches and shouting questions while the slayers watched from one side, their brawny arms folded across their beards.

  “I swear to you, m’lord,” Draeger was saying. “It wasn’t us! We heard something suspicious and came looking, and found someone tampering with it. Sigmar be my witness it’s the truth.”

  Von Geldrecht laughed, and then waved a hand for quiet. “So, you heard something suspicious, did you?”

  “That’s right, m’lord,” said Draeger. “Woke us up. And—”

  “You were sleeping in the underkeep and heard something suspicious in the cellar of the knights’ residences on the far side of the courtyard,” continued von Geldrecht.

  “Well, m’lord…”

  The steward barged on. “And so, you decided you would investigate this noise, with all your men?”

  The knights and foot soldiers all laughed at this. Even von Volgen allowed himself a flat smile.

  “Er, well,” stammered Draeger, sweating now. “I know it seems strange on the face of it, m’lord, but—”

  “It seems traitorous on the face of it!” bellowed von Geldrecht. “By Sigmar, captain, if you’ve done what I think you’ve done here, you will die where you stand.”

  Draeger cringed back. “No, m’lord. Honest. We never touched it. It was the man we found tinkering with it. He wrecked it!”

  Von Geldrecht rolled his eyes. “One man wrecked this? Don’t lie to me, captain. You have committed this sabotage, and you will pay for it with your life.”

  “But we haven’t!” cried Draeger. “I swear to you!”

  “Then why did you come here?” asked von Geldrecht, then sneered. “And don’t tell me you heard a noise.”

  Draeger lowered his head and slanted a look to his men, then sighed. “We… we was looking for a way out. A secret passage, like.”

  Von Geldrecht stared. Someone in the back laughed.

  “You were trying to escape,” said von Geldrecht.

  “Aye, m’lord,” said Draeger, his chin going up with sudden defiance. “We told you from the first we was already demobbed. This ain’t our fight. We’re free men.”

  That brought another round of laughter, and a combined snort from the slayers.

  “Kill the lot,” said Gotrek, disgusted. “We don’t need cowards.”

  Von Geldrecht inclined his head to him. “Would that we had the luxury to choose who fought beside us, herr dwarf. But alas, it cannot be.” He turned back to Draeger. “No, your punishment, captain, is to fight for your life with the rest of us.” He snapped his fingers at the young sergeant of spearmen who had toasted Zeismann earlier in the mess. “Sergeant Abelung, lock these men up. They are only to be let out to fight, yes?”

  “Aye, my lord,” said the sergeant.

  But as he began to herd them towards the exit, von Volgen looked Draeger in the eye.

  “One question, captain,” he said. “The man who was tinkering with the machine. Was he another lie?”

  Draeger shook his head, glum. “No, m’lord. We saw him, right enough.”

  “And what did he look like?” asked von Volgen.

  Draeger frowned. “I didn’t get a good look, m’lord. He wore a robe. Covered him head to toe. Couldn’t see his face, or anything about him. Not a big man, though, and went like a rabbit.”

  Von Volgen nodded and stepped back, and Sergeant Abelung led the militiamen to the door, but as they filed out, there were running footsteps in the passage beyond, and a handgunner squeezed past them into the room.

  “My lord,” he said, panting as he crossed to von Geldrecht. “It is as you feared. The dike locks have been closed and the moat is dry. The zombies have already crossed it, and are at the walls.”

  Von Geldrecht cursed as the crowd of soldiers and knights murmured in dismay and began to hurry out. “And until the lock mechanism is repaired,” he said, looking at the wrecked machine with a sigh, “we cannot flood it again. Our saboteur is very thorough.”

  Von Volgen turned to the slayers. “Can you fix this, dwarfs?”

  Gotrek stepped forwards, shaking his head. “The same hand that shattered the runes shattered this.” He pointed to a hole in the side of the crumpled piston. It was in the rough shape of a hand, and the steel all around it was cracked and brittle—more like glass than metal. Gotrek poked it with his finger. It shattered and fell away.

  “It would take a team of dwarfs with a proper forge a month to replace all these parts,” said Rodi.

  “Snorri would guess two months,” said Snorri.

  Von Geldrecht groaned. “The walls, the moat. The villain is peeling away our defences like an onion. He must be found and—”

  Gotrek held up a hand, cuttin
g him off, and cocked his head.

  Von Geldrecht looked around, nervous. “What is it?”

  “Quiet,” said the Slayer, then crossed to the wall of the round room and put his ear to it. Rodi and Snorri did the same. Felix and Kat exchanged a puzzled glance with von Geldrecht and von Volgen.

  After a moment, Gotrek lifted his ear from the wall and turned to von Geldrecht. “There is digging being done,” he said. “Somewhere beyond this wall.”

  Von Geldrecht’s eyes widened. “Digging? But what for?”

  Rodi snorted. “Maybe the corpses are planting a garden.”

  Snorri frowned. “Snorri doesn’t think that’s likely, Rodi Balkisson,” he said. “Snorri thinks they’re going to sap the walls.”

  TEN

  “So close,” said von Geldrecht, clutching his robe tighter around him. “And yet so far away.”

  Felix and Kat stood with the steward and von Volgen and the slayers on Castle Reikguard’s wind-whipped battlements, staring out at the stone-flanked, oak-doored canal-lock dike that gleamed dully in the light of the two moons about fifty yards upstream from the castle’s easternmost corner. Until less than an hour ago, the lock could be opened to let the river spill into the moat, and closed to allow for cleaning and repairs. Now, with the destruction of the lock mechanism, the saboteur had closed it permanently, leaving the moat dry, and the sea of zombies which the moat had kept at bay now reached all the way to the castle, pawing futilely at the huge granite blocks of the sturdy walls.

  Von Geldrecht sighed and shivered, then turned to the slayers. “And where is this digging?” They led him back along the wall and pointed out and down. Felix, Kat, von Volgen and the steward leaned as far as they could over the wall, peering into the night. Felix couldn’t see anything but zombies.