Ghoulslayer

Chapter Nineteen The Eventide

I refuse to be sick, thought Maleneth as the world turned around her. Even over the roar of the engines, she could hear people groaning and vomiting across the deck. She had lashed herself to the railings, but the ship was shaking so violently that she was covered in bruises.

‘God of Murder,’ she groaned. ‘How long will this take?’

‘Hours at most!’ cried Lord Aurun from a few feet away. He looked exhilarated. ‘Look how fast the Spindrift is!’

She shook her head and looked out at the sea. The waves were shimmering, illuminated by the ship’s blue-green light. It gave them the illusion of movement, and seen in such snatched glimpses, it could almost have been a natural sea. Rather than crashing through the breakers, though, the aether-ship was lurching drunkenly over them, gliding a few feet above the pitted surface, hurled by the arcane science of its Kharadron-wrought engines. Light knifed through the seams in its iron hull, splitting Morbium’s endless dark.

Every now and then she heard Gotrek cry out, his voice rising up from beneath her like the howl of a wounded leviathan. Trachos was down in the engine room with him, battling to harness the aether-gold Gotrek was channelling, but Maleneth was glad to be nowhere near them. There were alternating bouts of anger, confusion and excitement in the Slayer’s voice. He sounded even more ­unstable than usual. Even though he was hidden from her, his presence was unmissable – beams of golden light were shining up through the deck plating. It looked like the ship had a piece of the sun stowed in its bilges.

At the end of another deck she could see Prince Volant, standing unaided at the wheel, legs apart as he struggled to keep his footing. Lhosia was at his side, tied to the gunwale and cradling one of the Unburied. She was crying out instructions to the prince, and he responded by wrenching the levers and handles that surrounded the huge brass wheel.

‘What did I do to deserve this?’ muttered Maleneth.

Murder the one person who ever cared for you?

Despite her nausea, Maleneth laughed. ‘Cared for me? Cared for my blood, you mean. And only in the way a cat cares for a mouse.’

You never understood me, Witchblade.

‘I understood you as well as I needed.’

And look where it got you.

‘It’s got me within reach of that rune. And once I have it, no one in Azyrheim will say a word against me. I’ll be the hero of the Order. The hero of the age! Sigmar himself will want to meet me.’

You’re no closer to getting your hands on that thing. I’ve told you the key, but you’re too ignorant to listen.

‘The key? What key? And why would I listen to you? What possible reason could you have to help me?’

Anger crept into her mistress’ voice. Khaine. You’re as dim-witted as the Slayer. What do you think will happen to me if you die down here?

Maleneth rarely heard anything other than derision from the blood amulet. There was something intriguing about this new, furious tone. She started to pay attention. ‘You’re already dead. What does it matter to you if I live or die?’

Whatever this is, it is not death, Witchblade. Do you think this is just your subconscious speaking to you? Do you think I’m merely a fragment of your mind?

Maleneth shrugged. ‘The thought had occurred.’

Her mistress’ anger grew as she was forced to speak so plainly. Idiot girl. You have captured a facet of my soul. While you live I retain a portion of life. A wretched morsel, admittedly, and attached to your disastrous existence, but it is all I have.

Maleneth cradled the amulet in her hand, studying the dark liquid at its heart, smiling. ‘Yes, the most suitable torment I could think of. Letting a piece of you live on, powerless, watching me ascend to the heights you dreamed of.’

Play your facile games, Witchblade, but if you do not steal that rune from the Slayer, neither of us will leave Shyish.

‘Then cease your prattling and stop talking in riddles. If you really want to help me, if you really do have an idea, share it.’ She took the blood vial from the amulet and dangled it over the rolling deck. ‘If my games are so facile, perhaps I will abandon them? Perhaps I will rob you of your chance to watch my ascension?’

Put that back! I will tell you what I saw.

‘You will.’ Maleneth smiled, rolling the vial between her fingers, revelling in the power she held over her former betrayer. ‘And you will do it quickly.’

Khaine curse you. I will make you pay. I will–

‘You will dribble across this deck and be forgotten. Unless you speak up quickly.’

Very well! I will speak so plainly even you might understand. Do you remember watching the priestess commune with her ancestor?

Maleneth nodded.

What did she say?

Maleneth laughed. ‘She warned us to keep away because she would be so “fragile”.’

Exactly – her body grew brittle and she warned you not to touch her. And the padlock she wears around her neck. Can you remember what happened to that?

‘Nothing. Nothing happened to it.’

Precisely. Her flesh was transformed. She grew brittle and weak, but her necklace was unchanged. What if the Slayer were transformed in such a way? He would be so brittle and weak he could be smashed like porcelain.

Maleneth slumped back against the gunwale, her pulse racing. ‘Of course. And the rune would be left intact.’

It’s ur-gold. Tempered by that duardin rune master back in Aqshy. And Gotrek’s not truly a fyreslayer. He has no interest in their god. That rune does not belong in his body. If you destroyed his flesh, the Rune of Blackhammer would be left in the broken shards.

‘And how would we move this ship if Gotrek was dead?’

Think! You only need the rune to channel the ship’s power. You don’t need the oaf.

Maleneth shook her head, still dubious. ‘Why are you helping me?’

You’re all I have, you fool. If I don’t help you, you will die down here and I will be… I will be nothing.

There was genuine emotion in the voice. Maleneth could not believe her mistress was telling the absolute truth, but perhaps it was part of the truth. And the idea was a good one. She laughed. ‘And how do you suggest I convince Gotrek Gurnisson to worship moths and hug corpses?’

Even in a mind as barren as yours, some of my training must have taken root. Think. I have given you the key. Find a way to use it.

Maleneth shook her head. ‘He would never–’

She gasped. ‘Khaine.’ All across the deck, Gotrek’s rune-light blazed brighter, dazzling her again.

‘Valaya’s teeth!’ howled the Slayer. It sounded like he was in pain.

Maleneth was blinded for several unpleasant minutes. She tried crawling into a foetal position to ease the nausea, but that made her feel like she was one of the cadavers in the cocoons. She tried standing to see if that was any better, just as Gotrek let out another howl.

A few seconds later, Maleneth breathed a sigh of relief. The aether-ship was slowing down. The spinning motion of the decks grew slower and slower until, with a final, metallic screech of gears, the whole thing ground to a halt.

After all the noise and movement that had preceded it, the quiet was eerie. Everyone on the deck glanced around in confusion.

Maleneth stood on trembling legs and looked out across the waves. There was nothing but the peaks and troughs of the Eventide. ‘Lord Aurun?’ she called out. ‘What is this? Why have we stopped?’

The knight shook his head, frowning as he looked up towards Lhosia and Prince Volant.

The prince strode across the deck and stamped on the hatch to the engine room. ‘Slayer! What happened?’

There was no answer.

Maleneth muttered a curse and untied herself, then staggered across to the hatch. ‘Let me speak to him,’ she said, opening it and climbing down the ladder.

The engines were still sparking with rune-light, and she spied Trachos way down in the bilges, at the bottom of a second ladder. She continued down and rushed over to him. The air was hazy with bitter-smelling smoke, and it took her a moment to spot Gotrek, sprawled against the engines. His muscle-bloated frame was shimmering with energy. He looked like a star chart, covered in lines and intersections, all centred on the rune.

‘Grimnir’s taking me,’ he grunted. ‘And I’ll not stand for it!’ Dozens of cables dangled from his chest where Trachos had attached him to the ship’s engines. ‘I’m not a bloody fuel pipe!’

Trachos shook his head. ‘The Master Rune is the only way to channel the aether-gold. And without aether-gold we have no way to move this ship.’

Prince Volant had climbed down after Maleneth. He leant through the acrid fumes. ‘You swore an oath. Are you breaking your word?’

Gotrek struggled to his feet and glared up at Volant. ‘I’m no oathbreaker. I’ll get your moth eggs home.’ He looked down at the rune. ‘But there has to be a better way.’

He jostled the cables and scowled at Trachos. ‘This rune is a vampire, manling. Think of something else.’ Rune-fire flashed across his beard as he talked. ‘Another hour of this and there’ll be nothing left of me.’

Trachos rattled the broken cables. ‘These are ruined. We need your rune.’

Now. Now’s your chance!

The voice spoke with such vehemence that Maleneth half expected the others to hear it.

She looked from the raging Slayer to Trachos and then to Lhosia, who was halfway down the ladder, watching the exchange. She thought hard about what her mistress had said. If she could convince the Slayer to commune with the corpses, he would be vulnerable, and the rune would be within her grasp.

‘Is there a way…?’ she began, her voice faltering, unsure what she was going to say.

Everyone turned to stare at her.

She looked up at Lhosia. ‘Did you say the Unburied power your fortresses?’

Lhosia nodded.

‘I wonder…’ She shrugged, ready to be ridiculed. ‘Could they help us use Gotrek’s rune in some other way? If your ancestors could see it – if they could understand its nature – could they release its power without causing Gotrek to be changed like this? If they could channel the power from the rune, it could still work as a conduit for the aether-gold.’

Volant shook his head, but Lhosia peered at Gotrek with interest.

‘I do not understand the nature of that rune, but the Unburied understand most things. Some were alive when the Kharadron sold us the Spindrift. One way or another, I’m sure they could help.’ She looked back up towards the deck. ‘If Gotrek were willing to join me in communion with the Unburied…’

Gotrek backed away, his eye flashing. ‘Join you? You want to join me to those things? Not a chance.’ He started to climb up the ladder, and the others followed.

‘You would only need to sit with me to join the communion,’ said Lhosia as she emerged onto the deck.

‘No.’ Gotrek was stomping around, glaring at the cocoons.

‘We need to do something,’ said Lord Aurun, staring out across the sea. ‘Look.’

They all peered into the darkness.

‘What is that?’ asked Maleneth. With the rune-light gone, it was hard to see far across the waves. ‘Is the sea moving?’

Prince Volant muttered a curse and shook his head. ‘Archers!’ he cried. ‘Ready your bows!’ He turned to the scythe-wielding knights gathered around them. ‘Prepare to be boarded.’

Maleneth crossed the deck and leant out over the rail until her eyes made sense of the movement. Thousands of ghouls were rushing over the Eventide, scrambling up the dusty waves and sprinting towards the ship.

There was a rattle of armour as the knights drew scythes and raised shields while the archers rushed into position.

Try him again. Force him.

Maleneth rushed over to Gotrek, who was glowering at the approaching horde.

‘Look how many there are,’ she whispered, leaning close.

‘I can take them.’ He rolled his shoulders with a cracking sound and raised his axe.

At what cost? prompted the voice in her head.

‘At what cost?’ she echoed, waving a knife at the massing shadows. ‘What will be left of you when the fighting is done? You’ll have to call on every ounce of the rune’s power.’

He glared at her, then down at the rune with even more anger.

‘Think about it,’ she said. ‘If these Unburied know half as much as the priestess thinks they do, they may be able to find a way for you to use the rune’s power without giving yourself to Grimnir. Wouldn’t that answer all of your problems?’

Lhosia was standing a few feet away, watching the exchange. ‘I believe they could help,’ she said.

‘Get this ship moving!’ roared Prince Volant, striding across the deck to where his steed was waiting. ‘I will hold them as long as I can.’

‘You’re going out there alone?’ Gotrek looked impressed.

Volant nodded as he mounted the skeleton drake. ‘I won’t lose these souls to those animals.’

The creature spread its skinless wings and pounded them, hanging over the ship as the prince stared down at Gotrek. Volant kicked his steed into motion and rocketed off into the darkness, hurtling towards the approaching horde.

Gotrek watched him go in silence. The rage slipped from his gnarled features, and Maleneth was surprised to see how the prince’s words had moved him.

He respects him, she realised. She looked at the knights waiting around the ship in stoic silence, prepared to die for their ancestors. He likes them.

Light flashed in the darkness as Prince Volant reached the first wave of ghouls. He scythed trails of amethyst through the night, lashing out at the teeming figures beneath him.

‘Archers!’ cried Lord Aurun from a few feet further up the deck. ‘On my order!’

There was a clatter of arrows being nocked.

Gotrek gave Maleneth one last glare, then turned to Lhosia and nodded. ‘Do it quickly. Before I change my mind.’

Stand ready. Watch for him changing. The Stormcast Eternal will try to protect him if he realises what you’re doing.

Trachos was nearby, watching Gotrek and Lhosia in silence.

Maleneth was about to suggest he head below decks to examine the engines, but then she forgot all about him, entranced by the bizarre transformation taking place.

Lhosia had sunk one hand into the cocoon and begun singing. The rag-like covering started to glow, revealing twitching shapes beneath as Lhosia placed her other hand on Gotrek’s rune.

As Lhosia murmured her song, Gotrek’s weathered muscles started to lose their chestnut colour, turning the same ash-white as the cocoon.

‘Grungni’s oath,’ he whispered, his skin becoming a white carapace.

‘Keep still,’ murmured Lhosia. ‘And close your eyes.’

Maleneth had been so amazed by the transformation that she had momentarily forgotten why she had engineered the whole fiasco. She stepped closer, gripping her knives, pleased to see that Trachos was too busy staring at Gotrek to notice what she was doing.

She flinched as a dreadful shriek rang through the night.

Trachos whirled around and the Erebid soldiers staggered, lowering their weapons. Only Lhosia seemed unaffected, so far gone in her ritual that she was oblivious to the noise. Gotrek cursed, but remained still.

Now!

Maleneth ignored her mistress, looking out across the sea for the source of the horrific screech.

There was a flash of purple light, and Volant’s steed hurtled beneath a looming shadow.

The shadow let out another scream, even louder than the first.

Pain seared through Maleneth’s skull. It was like knives jamming into her head.

Aurun ordered to his men to loose their arrows, but the archers were reeling in pain and their shots hit nothing but air.

Gotrek growled, tormented by the sound but unable to cover his ears. As he snarled, the rune in his chest pulsed back into life, scattering glimmers of light between Lhosia’s fingers and sparking in his eye.

‘What’s happening?’ gasped Maleneth as rune-light flashed through Lhosia’s robes, down her arm and into the cocoon.

The figure within flashed like kindling and Lhosia gasped.

The anger faded from Gotrek’s eye as he stared down the deck. ‘I see them,’ he muttered, sounding dazed.

Now!

Maleneth ignored the voice in her head. She had followed Gotrek’s gaze and seen something incredible. Across the ship, every one of the cocoons was lighting up, mirroring the one in Lhosia’s arms and burning with rune-light. The light rippled across the metal deck and shimmered down the pipes that ran under the gunwales.

Something juddered beneath Maleneth’s feet, then settled into a steady rumble.

‘The aether-gold,’ said Trachos, hurrying back to the hatch and vanishing below decks.

Maleneth gasped in agony as the screech sliced into her head again.

Prince Volant was directly overhead, thirty feet or so above the ship’s dome, locked in battle with a grotesque mockery of his own steed – an undead horror, its wings trailing shreds of dead skin and its jaws ripped back in a fixed snarl. This was the source of the dreadful shrieking. The creatures clawed and snapped as Volant lashed out with his scythe.

Out on the Eventide, the ghouls were slipping and tumbling across the waves, and some had reached the Spindrift. The ship was drifting so low that the creatures were able to bound up its hull and clamber over the railings.

The Gravesward raised their shields as slavering wretches slammed into them.

Aurun leapt into the fray, howling orders. Scythes flashed, scattering limbs and sending ghouls toppling from the ship.

‘It’s moving!’ cried Maleneth, dodging a headless mordant as it slapped onto the deck. She looked around in wonder as the ­Unburied burned brighter and the ship screeched into motion, turning around its central dome.

Prince Volant crowed in triumph, bathed in arcane light as he beheaded the screaming monster. It thrashed its vast, bat-like wings, then flipped backwards, crashing into the crowds of ghouls.

The prince swooped across the deck. ‘Lash yourselves to the ship! Tie yourselves down!’

As the Spindrift picked up speed, lots of the monsters fell back onto the waves below, but some were still loose on the deck.

While the soldiers obeyed the prince and began tying themselves to masts and gunwales, Lord Aurun strode across the decks, hacking furiously at the ghouls and hurling them over the railings.

Maleneth dashed to his side, opening the throat of a mordant that was about to pounce on him from behind. Aurun turned in time to see her rip the blade out and kick the gasping creature over the railings. He nodded in thanks before striding past her to return the favour, slicing his scythe through a ghoul that was about to leap on Maleneth.

They weaved across the deck, protecting the Erebid as the ship gained speed, juddering and rolling so violently that Maleneth felt as though she were drunk, reeling and staggering as she fought.

‘Bravely done, aelf,’ gasped Lord Aurun as he stumbled past her, making for the dome. ‘Now tie yourself to something!’

She fell backwards, the motion of the aether-ship wrong-footing her, sending her plummeting through the air towards the Eventide.

A hand locked around her wrist, jolting her arm painfully in its socket as someone hauled her back onto the deck, lashing her quickly to the ship before it lurched again.

‘You’re making a habit of this,’ she gasped when she realised who her saviour was.

Trachos nodded as he checked the ropes he had used to secure her. ‘I’ll take that as a thank you.’

His turn of phrase was so natural she laughed in surprise. ‘Was that a joke?’

He made a sound that might have been a laugh.

‘What happened to you?’ She tried to peer through the eyeholes in his helmet. Hearing Trachos speak so normally seemed even more miraculous than the power ripping through Gotrek and Lhosia.

When he had finished checking his knots, Trachos sat back against the railings, shaking his head. ‘Your plan is working. The Unburied are somehow directing the rune-fire down into the engines. Aether-gold is flowing freely through the engine.’

Maleneth shook her head in disbelief. The last thing she had expected was that her absurd plan would work. She gripped the railings as the decks turned faster around the dome.

Trachos looked over to where the bone-white Slayer was still sitting with the priestess, surrounded by a nimbus of aetheric currents. Unlike everyone else on board, they were calm, not tied down in any way, fixed to the spot by the energy burning through them, linking their brittle shells to the cocoons lying around the ship.

‘He…’ said Trachos, shaking his head as if unable to complete his thought.

‘Gotrek?’ Maleneth frowned. ‘He what?’

Trachos sounded confused. ‘I was forged in the light of Sigendil, by the will of the God-King. Sorcery has no power over me. And yet I feel the Slayer has changed me in some way.’

‘Something has changed. You sound almost intelligible.’

‘The Slayer had faith in me,’ he muttered. ‘When I did not.’

Maleneth laughed in disbelief. ‘I have never understood humans, Stormcast Eternals even less so. You sound like those dispossessed duardin who wanted to pray to him.’

‘I raised the gatehouse,’ Trachos replied gruffly. ‘I freed those cocoons, when the Erebid thought it was impossible. I made this vessel move.’ He looked up at the spinning stars. ‘I felt Sigmar’s power working through me again, as surely as I did when I was first forged in Azyr.’

Maleneth leant closer to him, lowering her voice. ‘So?’

He laughed. The sound did not seem at home, coming from his battle-scored faceplate. ‘I think, perhaps, I am starting to make peace with my god. And it would not have happened without the Slayer.’ He looked back at Gotrek. ‘What is he, Witchblade?’

Maleneth was about to mock his reverent tone, but as she glanced at Gotrek, hurling the Spindrift through the dark, haloed by the souls of the Unburied, the words snagged in her throat.