Tales of the Old World (62 page)

Reiner sited along his gun barrel as the bandits nocked fresh arrows, but
something behind the purple archers caught his eye. Below the north wall, a
handful of Northmen, their black armour flashing red in the light of the
bonfires, crossed the moat on a plank and crept toward the postern gate. There
were no troops to stop them. Most of the fighting was on the far side of the
castle. If this little force could somehow break down the iron-bound door…

Reiner checked as the postern gate swung suddenly open. What treachery was
this? Reiner squinted, trying to identify the shadowed figure who let the
warriors into the castle. It was impossible. He cursed. The Blackhearts looked
around.

Reiner pointed. “Our efforts may be for naught. Someone lets the Northers in
by the back gate.”

Loche looked up. “Hey?” He peered forward.

“We’ll have to stop them,” said Franka. “Unless we wish to die in this cursed
wood.”

Reiner glared at the girl. She was right, but the last thing he wanted to do
was hunt through dark corridors after Northern marauders. He’d faced their like
before, and nearly died of it. “It’ll take more than the five of us to bring
those monsters down. Loche, we…”

“Not to worry,” said the big man. “I ran from them once. And won my coward’s
brand for it. I’ll not run again. Murgen, Aeloff, pick ten men and come with
me.”

“Ten and five.” Hals swallowed, nervous. “I hope it is enough.”

Reiner and Loche and their men entered the open postern gate and peered into
the empty kitchen garden. Sounds of the battle echoed around the bulk of the
keep, but it was quiet here.

“Where are they?” whispered Pavel.

“Shhh!” hissed Giano, cupping his ear.

They held their breath. From over the garden wall they heard a closing door.

The party started cautiously forward, but Franka slipped quickly ahead. “I’ll
keep ’em in sight,” she said.

“Frank… Franz! Wait!” called Reiner, but the girl had already slipped into
the garden.

“Come on,” growled Reiner.

As they entered the kitchen they saw Franka waving them towards the cellar
stairs. They followed, and caught up with her at the door to the dungeon.

“What are they doing down here?” asked Reiner.

“Forcing a cell door,” replied Franka.

“Ah. Udo.”

The sound of steel biting into wood echoed down the narrow hall. Lantern
light flickered from a door at the end. Franka started ahead. Reiner stopped her
and went forward himself. She gave him a dirty look.

Reiner peered into a low-ceilinged guard room with stout oak doors on each
wall. The Northmen had just broken the lock of one and were swinging it open.
Udo stepped out and embraced the smallest warrior, who Reiner suddenly realized
was the sorceress, dressed in black armour of barbaric splendour. Her six
companions wore black and purple as well, and disturbingly, though they were as
fiercely bearded as any Northman, were as rouged and painted as Marienberg
streetwalkers. Udo’s manservant, Stier, stood with them, holding a lantern. It
was he, Reiner realized, who had let them in.

After receiving Udo’s enthusiastic kiss, the sorceress stepped back. “It is
time, beloved, to seize your destiny. Are you ready?”

The boy nodded, unable to look away from her eyes. “I am ready.”

The beauty removed a jewelled broach from her cloak. The pin was covered in
black crust. “Then take this and go to your father. A mere scratch and he will
fall. When Manfred and his knights turn to assist him, prick as many of them as
you can. We will be nearby, ready to protect you from any survivors.”

Udo hesitated, looking at the broach. “Will it be… painful?”

“Worry not, my sweet,” said the witch, caressing his cheek. “Your father will
not suffer. In fact he will die of an excess of pleasure.”

She turned towards the door with Udo. Her men fell in around her. Reiner
backed down the corridor to the waiting bandits.

“Bows out,” he hissed. “Pin ’em inside the room.”

He and Giano shouldered their guns as the others raised bows. Two warriors
filled the door, eclipsing the room behind them with their bulk.

“Fire!”

The warriors bellowed as the barrage battered them. Most of the arrows
glanced off the ebony armour, but a few hit more, and Reiner and Giano’s shot
smashed through brains and bone. The Northmen fell. Behind them, Udo stared at
an arrow sticking from his arm.

“I… I am… hit!”

The sorceress snatched him back into the room as one of her warriors leapt
forward, sword drawn, and the last three backed up, protecting her.

“Fire!”

Reiner dropped his handgun and fired his pistol as the bandits’ bowstrings
thrummed in his ears. The massive warrior took the ball and a thicket of arrows
full on. He kept coming, eyes blazing with ecstatic fury.

“Fire!”

But the Northman was on them before they could reload. Pavel and Hals
shouldered Reiner and Giano aside and jammed their spears into the warrior’s
chest just as he reached their line. The force of his charge drove them skidding
back, but at last he stopped, blood erupting from his painted mouth as he fell.

“Die hard, don’t they?” said Loche.

“Aye,” agreed Hals.

A noise returned their attention to the guard room. The bandits flexed their
bows again. Reiner aimed his pistol, but no berserk warriors spewed forth.
Instead, stepping into the hall was the sorceress, arms raised… and naked.

“Hold,” she said. “I would parlay.”

Reiner and the Blackhearts and the bandits stared, open-mouthed, as she paced
forward, her ripe curves swaying with every step. “You wouldn’t shoot an unarmed
woman, would you?”

Reiner began forming a joke about the woman being better armed than most
armies, but it died in his throat as a delicious scent reached his nose. It
wafted from her like musk: vanilla and jasmine, and drifted into his brain like
fog.

He tried to tell the others to shoot her before she ensorcelled them all, but
found himself unable to speak or raise his gun. The others seemed similarly
affected.

The sorceress continued forward, smiling sweetly. “In fact, you would kill
any man who tried to harm me, wouldn’t you? You would defend me to the death.”

She stopped in front of them. Reiner fought to free his mind, but her beauty
was all-consuming. He couldn’t tear his eyes away. He would do anything for
her—die for her, if she would only take him into her arms. He heard bows and guns
clatter to the floor as they fell from slack hands.

“You, boy,” she said, pointing at Franka. “Your captain raised his gun to me.
Will you protect me? Will you cut his throat?”

Franka nodded and wove towards him, drawing her dagger, glassy-eyed. Reiner
raised his chin obligingly. It was true. He had tried to kill the sorceress. He
deserved to die.

Franka raised her dagger.

The sorceress licked her lips. “Of course you will,” she said. “No man can
resist me.”

But suddenly Franka spun and stabbed her in the throat. The witch stared,
more shocked at Franka’s disobedience than at the dagger in her neck.

Franka smirked. “Fortunately, I am no man.”

The woman fell, blood pouring down over her alabaster breasts. The spell was
broken. Reiner shook his head. The others did the same, cursing and groaning.

“No! Beloved!”

Reiner looked up. Udo was racing at them, sword above his head. “Murderers!”
he cried. “Savages!”

Behind him came the three remaining Northmen.

Reiner fired but missed. The bandits were still picking up their dropped
weapons and got off only a few shots. Reiner drew frantically, and met Udo sword
on sword as Pavel and Hals thrust their spears at the Northmen and the bandits
rushed to back them up.

“Foul defiler!” shrieked Udo. “To kill such a gentle—”

Reiner ran him through. The boy curled in on himself and fell. Reiner felt
strangely guilty.

Around him, the Blackhearts and the bandits were beating on the Northmen with
all their might, but the corridor was too narrow and too crowded to make a good
swing, and the warriors’ armour was too strong. The men could hardly dent it.

The warriors, on the other hand, swung mailed fists and axes held high on the
haft. Reiner saw Pavel reeling back from a fist to the shoulder. An axe sheared
off a bandit’s arm at the elbow.

“Fall back!” shouted Reiner.

The Blackhearts and the bandits ran up the stairs, leaving their dead and
wounded behind, the Northmen hot on their heels. A bandit went down, his skull
crushed as he turned to flee.

As they burst out of the castle into the yard, Reiner was momentarily afraid
that they had run into more Northmen. The garden was full of men in blood-caked
armour. But then he recognized Manfred and Groff in the chaos. The knights
raised a shout as the Northmen roared out of the kitchen, and a fierce battle
erupted as the two sides slammed together.

Reiner was happy to observe from the sidelines, as were the bandits and the
Blackhearts, who sucked in deep breaths and mopped at their wounds.

After it became certain that the knights would be victorious, Hals turned to
Franka and gave her a curious look.

“What meant ye,” he asked, “when y’said ‘fortunately
you wasn’t a man’?”

“What?” said Franka. Reiner swallowed nervously. The girl was turning bright
red. “I… er, I, well, I merely meant that I am but a boy.”

Hals scowled. “When I was your age, laddie, I was twice as likely to fall for
a woman’s wiles.”

But before he could pursue the question further, the last of the Northmen
fell and Manfred was striding their way, glaring.

“Hetsau, what is the meaning of this?”

“My lord,” said Reiner as he thought how to answer. “We are most glad…”

“Never mind that, villain. I…”

Behind the count, Groff suddenly raised a cry. All turned. Servants were
carrying Udo’s body into the garden. Groff hurried forward and took the boy in
his arms. “Who has done this?” he cried. “Who has slain my son?”

Manfred glared at Reiner. “Hetsau?”

“My lord, you wound me,” said Reiner. He crossed to Groff. “Lord Groff, the
sorceress came to free your son so he might assassinate you, but he refused.
They slew him for it.”

Groff looked at him with grateful eyes. “He resisted then?”

“Yes, my lord. I only regret we were not able to stop them.”

Manfred gave Reiner a cool look. “Regrettable indeed. And who are these
gentlemen with you, who were yet not enough to save Lord Groff’s son?”

Reiner swallowed. “My lord, this is Captain Loche, leader of the noble
woodsmen who helped you hold the castle this night.”

Loche touched his forelock to Manfred. “M’lord.”

“A leader of bandits, you mean,” said Manfred, ignoring Loche. “Who you
recruited against my orders.”

“I thought your lordship might be pleased to find yourself alive at the
outcome.”

“I am never pleased to be disobeyed.” He turned to the captain of his
retinue. “Strieger, arrest these outlaws, and all who have remained on the
field.”

“What?” said Loche, surprised.

“But, my lord,” cried Reiner as the knights began to surround the surviving
bandits. “They have saved your life. You must admit that. You would be dead if
not for their help.”

“That may be,” said Manfred, “but certainly they aided us not out of any
loyalty to the Empire, but only to save their own skins. They are still outlaws.
They must still hang.”

“Hang? My lord!” Reiner was sweating now. “My lord, it took all my gifts to
convince these men to come to your aid. I promised them that you would be
grateful—that you might even reward them for their service.”

Manfred raised an eyebrow. “Ah. Then they have no one to blame for their fate
but you, who promised things it was beyond your power to grant.” He motioned to
Strieger. “Take them. In these troubled times the laws of the Empire must be
firmly upheld.”

As the knights took the bandits in tow, Loche shot a look at Reiner that
pierced him to his soul. “Dirty liar,” he rasped. “I hope y’rot.” He spat on
Reiner’s boots. The knights jerked him forward and marched the bandits out of
the garden.

Reiner hung his head, more ashamed than he’d ever been. He felt like a
trained rat who had led his wild brethren into a trap. He wanted to tear
Manfred’s throat out, but—more shame—he was too much of a coward. He valued
his life too much.

Franka put a hand on his arm. It didn’t help.

The next morning the Blackhearts were locked back into their coach and
Manfred and his knights continued south to Altdorf. As they rode from Groff’s
castle Reiner and the others peered back through the slotted windows. Hanging
from the battlements were scores of bandits and cultists, mixed together as if
the hangmen had made no distinction between them—rotting fruit hanging from a
stone tree.

Reiner’s heart clenched when he saw Loche’s massive body swaying among them.
He closed his eyes, then sank back in his seat. “And that, my lads,” he sighed,
“is fair warning of how Lord Valdenheim will deal with us when he no longer
finds us useful.”

Pavel nodded. “The swine.”

Giano shook his head. “We dead soldiers, hey?”

“There must be a way out,” said Franka.

“But how?” asked Hals.

And so the endless conversation began again, all the way to Altdorf.

“What about this one?” Claude the retainer asked with poorly disguised
irritation, holding up the bloody prize.

“As I’ve already told you,” his master replied sharply, “that is not good
enough. I want something… more.”

Claude shrugged and dropped the blood-spattered head back into the dust. The
orc’s rictus grin leered up at him insolently, but he resisted the urge to give
it a kick. Knights had funny ideas about things like that. But then, knights had
funny ideas about a lot of things.