Razumov's Tomb (6 page)

The stairs led steeply down into damp, crumbling cellars and then deeper, beyond the foundations of the town hall and onto a narrow, partially excavated street. The subterranean road must once have been a wide thoroughfare, but only a sliver of its original width had been unearthed. Groot struggled to squeeze his vast stomach through some of the narrower bends, but the deeper he went, the more excited he became, rubbing his meaty palms together and muttering to himself as he scrambled over the ancient stones.

After a few minutes, he reached a door at the end of a long passageway. The light of his candle flickered over its surface, revealing an intricate array of carvings. The faces staring out of the wood might once have been heroic, or even beautiful, but centuries of decay had warped them into something far more sinister: tortured-looking, featureless grotesques, who seemed to cry out in pain as Groot shoved the door open and filled the tunnel with the sound of screaming, rusted hinges.

As the door opened, a mound of rats tumbled out, scattering from the bürgermeister’s light and scurrying into the shadows. Groot paid them no heed, but the second thing to emerge did cause him to falter—a thick, cloying charnel stink that filled his nostrils and left him retching into his ermine robes. For a few minutes he could do nothing but grimace and cough, then he pulled his robes up over his face and stepped through the doorway.

The darkness that smothered Groot was so profound that his candle could only illuminate a few feet in every direction. He shuffled slowly on through a series of empty rooms and down more stairs. Opening another door, he came to a halt in a small, rat-infested cellar. The room was so tiny that his candle finally managed to push back the shadows, revealing a slight, hooded figure waiting patiently in the corner.

The figure recoiled as Groot approached, but was clearly excited by his presence—twitching and fidgeting in the shadows and tapping the floor with a black spiked staff that ended in a crescent of talon-like horns.

“What news, Groot?” The shadowy figure had a voice like autumn leaves being crunched underfoot.

“My lady,” gasped the bürgermeister, attempting a bow, “they’re not here yet.”

“You’re wrong.” There was anger in the voice and Groot flinched, as though expecting to be struck.

“Are you sure, my lady? I’ve just spoken to Steffan, the captain of the watch, and he travelled several miles into the hills without seeing any sign of strangers.” He laughed. “They encountered quite a few other things though. I don’t think they will be—”

“They left Schwarzbach?” hissed the woman. “What for?”

Groot’s face twisted into a grimace. “They were just scouting the nearby hills, my lady. That was all.”

“How can you be sure?” The woman’s voice was verging on a scream. “What if they’ve learned something? No one must speak to the magisters before they arrive. We’re only two nights away from the full moon. Nothing can be allowed to go wrong.” She looked down at the floor. There was a pile of bones at her feet that gleamed faintly in the candlelight as she stooped down to stroke them. She spent a few moments placing the bones in various different arrangements on the floor, muttering under her breath. This seemed to calm her and when she turned back to Groot, her voice was softer. “The magisters will be here tomorrow night. Nothing can be allowed to disrupt our plans before then. Do you understand?”

“Yes! Yes!” Groot dropped to his knees, peering at the vague shapes on the floor. “What shall I do?”

The woman clutched her cruel-looking staff in both hands and stepped closer to the bürgermeister. As she stooped over him, his candle revealed a brief glimpse of her ashen skin and matted silver hair. “You must kill them, Groot—Steffan first, then his friends. Do it quickly.”

Groot nodded eagerly. “Of course, my lady. Anything you desire.” He massaged his quivering cheeks and frowned again. “It’s so difficult keeping everything on track though.” He looked hungrily at the staff. “Do you think you could lend me a little more strength? Just to see me through this last stretch?”

The woman sighed, then gave a grudging nod.

Groot closed his eyes and sighed with pleasure. Loosening the belt around his robes, he allowed them to fall open. His entire body was covered in bleeding, open sores and as he leaned towards the woman, some of them parted slightly, revealing rows of tiny, pointed teeth.

The woman raised her staff and placed the crescent of horns against his trembling chest. As she dragged it gently over his skin, a string of new sores erupted, causing Groot to moan even louder.

Just as the bürgermeister’s pleasure seemed about to overcome him, the woman snatched the staff away and withdrew into the shadows.

Groot tumbled to the floor, reaching after her with a pitiful whine.

“No more,” she hissed, “until they are dead.”

CHAPTER SIX

“Schwarzbach,” announced Captain Stoltz as the general dismounted and stood beside him.

The two knights were looking out across a wide, moonlit valley and on the opposite side was a fortified town, circled by a thick stone wall punctuated by squat, pugnacious-looking towers. Soldiers could be seen moving on the battlements and the Imperial standard was hanging lifelessly from the inner citadel.

“Still standing, at least,” said the general, squinting through the gloom. “The walls are manned too.”

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 loud 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.