The Funeral of Gotrek Gurnisson Richard Salter Thunder rumbled in the overcast sky and the rain came down in sheets. It was as gloomy as dusk, yet the day had not reached noon. Felix Jaeger stood silently in the graveyard, his hair matted and his clothes drenched. The downpour bothered him not at all. A priest approached and cleared his throat. Felix looked up. ‘Thank you for doing this at such short notice.’ The priest bowed his head. ‘I am happy to help. I have never… officiated the funeral of a Slayer before. However… it was my understanding that a customary send off for one such as he would involve more of a…’ ‘Celebration?’ ‘Indeed, yes.’ ‘He did not die a hero’s death,’ Felix explained. ‘Anything more would not be appropriate.’ ‘Very well.’ Six pallbearers carried the coffin towards the open grave. They stopped close by and placed the casket on iron stands. At such short notice, Felix had only been able to procure a human-sized casket and a cheap one at that. Its occupant would be mortified if he could see this dreary scene. The priest began the incantation while Felix stood impassive. His eyes were downcast, water dripping from the end of his nose. Rain collected in the brim of his hat, occasionally overflowing like torrents of tears. He had told nobody about the funeral. While word had a habit of getting out, it was unlikely anyone would reach here in time. There were many who would want to attend, either to mourn Gotrek’s passing, or to dance on his grave. Felix was aware of a figure standing beside him, someone who didn’t fit into either category. The tavern was packed with revellers when Gotrek and Felix dragged themselves inside. Neither of them felt like joining in the fun. They sat down at the only free table, in the corner, awash with spilled beer and other detritus. They ordered food and ale, and then fell into a silent funk. Felix watched everyone else having a good time with weary resentment. ‘It feels like my feet have pounded every cobblestone in Kutenholz,’ Felix said in an attempt to break the silence between them. He had to speak up to be heard over the background din. Gotrek merely grunted. Thankfully their food, a tough, unidentifiable meat with day-old bread, arrived so they had an excuse not to talk. If Felix weren’t so hungry he would already be in his room, collapsed on his bed with exhaustion. He suspected that the Slayer, despite his formidable stamina, felt much the same. As soon as they were done eating, Gotrek drained his tankard, bid Felix a gruff goodnight and shuffled over to the stairs. Felix waited until the Slayer had disappeared from view and then stood up. He wanted to ask everyone here if they had seen anything strange these past few weeks, but he was too bone-tired. Their search for the cursed liche Pragarti had led them to this town, but then the trail had gone cold. It was frustrating to say the least. Perhaps tomorrow he and Gotrek should lay low and let trouble come to them. If history was any indicator, they shouldn’t have to wait long. For now, to bed. Felix dragged himself up the stairs. Each step took more effort than the one before. Once at the top he stumbled to his door and struggled to get the key in the lock. He felt so disconnected, he was sure he must have been drugged. But no, the fog in his head was only due to fatigue. He locked the door behind him and fell onto his bed, not even bothering to undress. Sleep took hold almost immediately. Felix awoke suddenly. He sat upright and listened. Had he dreamt the noise? Despite the gloom he saw nothing out of place. He was just about to lie down when another crash jolted him fully awake. Felix jumped out of bed and grabbed his sword. The disturbance came from the next room. Gotrek! He burst into the corridor and tried to open Gotrek’s door, but it was still locked. Now he could hear shouting: Gotrek’s gruff voice telling someone to stand still. Felix assessed the door as best he could in the semi-darkness. The wood nearest the top hinge seemed fairly rotten as he probed it with a finger. He was about to kick the door in when he remembered he had no boots on. A broken foot wasn’t going to help anybody. Luckily, the innkeeper had been awoken by the noise. He shuffled his ample frame along the corridor, complaining the whole time. ‘What is going on in there?’ he demanded of Felix. ‘Open the door and we’ll find out.’ The landlord sifted through a huge brass ring holding enough keys to keep all of Nuln’s gaols secure. After what seemed an age he unlocked the door. Felix burst in. The window to Gotrek’s small room was open and the furniture was smashed and tipped over. In the centre of the room, a black-clad assassin was struggling mightily to free his ankle from Gotrek’s grip. The Slayer’s eyes were closed and he didn’t appear to be conscious. ‘Sigmar’s beard!’ the assassin cried. ‘Why won’t you just die?’ Kicking hard, the killer managed to wrest his leg free. Felix leapt over a toppled wardrobe and threw himself at the assassin, tackling him to the floor. The killer kicked and punched with painful accuracy but Felix clung on. Finally he managed to pin him down. ‘Who sent you?’ Felix growled. ‘Like I’d tell you that,’ the assassin spat. Felix grabbed his sword and pushed the blade against the man’s throat. ‘I’m guessing you didn’t intend this to be a suicide mission, so I’ll ask again. Who sent you?’ ‘I wasn’t told a name. My employer just said you would meet at the dwarf’s funeral.’ The assassin stared past Felix and cried, ‘He’s on his feet again!’ Felix knew he’d been fooled as soon as he turned his head. Gotrek was still comatose. Too slow, he turned back as the assassin twisted and punched, connecting with Felix’s jaw, sending him sprawling. The man disappeared through the window before Felix could even get up. With enormous difficulty, Felix dragged the prone body of Gotrek down the stairs. He cringed every time the dwarf’s head bounced off each wooden step. His aching back and weary arms begged him to stop. Finally he reached the bottom. At this hour the tavern was empty and the chairs were stacked on the tables. The landlord had already stomped off to bed, ordering Felix to vacate the premises immediately. Breathing hard, unable to believe just how heavy one dwarf could be, he dragged his companion across the wooden floor as fast as he could manage. It took him precious seconds to unbolt the door, his hands shaking from the exertion. At last he was out on the street. He felt drizzle on his face, the slight sting of water helping to cool his overheated skin. The street was empty save for a couple of drunks engaged in a fight on the corner. Felix headed in the other direction, dragging Gotrek two doors down from the inn. He banged on the door in front of him, then banged harder when there was no response. After a few agonising moments he heard someone inside. A small hatch in the door slid open to reveal a suspicious pair of eyes. ‘What are you doing waking me at this hour?’ ‘Please, it’s an emergency.’ ‘It had better be!’ ‘My friend,’ said Felix, unsure if the apothecary could see the prone body lying in a puddle at the foot of the door. ‘He’s been poisoned. I need you to save him!’ The eyes shifted up, down, left and right, looking for robbers ready to pounce. Warily, their owner opened the door and peered out into the rain. Then he stood back, waiting impatiently while Felix struggled to bring the Slayer inside. ‘You could help!’ Felix said. ‘I am helping. If you would rather go elsewhere, that’s fine by me.’ Felix held his tongue. The apothecary examined the prone Slayer. ‘Hmm,’ he said as he peered into Gotrek’s eyes and checked his throat and neck. He felt for a pulse, a look of amazement on his face. ‘Quite remarkable,’ he said. ‘What is it? Is he going to be all right?’ The apothecary chuckled. ‘My dear fellow, it’s a wonder he isn’t dead already! I see the point of entry here on the arm, likely a poison dart.’ That explained how the assassin had been able to poison Gotrek. The Slayer was legendary for his ability to hear an attacker coming, even in his sleep. After being hit with the dart, Gotrek must have made it to the window, dragged the assassin inside before he could escape, then beat him up while trying to stay consciousness. ‘Can you save him?’ ‘Yes, but it won’t be easy.’ The apothecary hurried to the back of his shop and pulled down various jars from a high shelf. ‘Your friend has been poisoned with ragethar, a poison so potent that one drop could kill an ogre. Lucky for you, I have an antidote.’ He peered through crescent-moon spectacles at another label. Felix willed him to hurry up. ‘Ah ha! Here it is, yes.’ He shuffled back to the prone dwarf. Felix noticed he was carrying two jars. ‘The poison needs two antidotes?’ he asked. ‘Hmm? Oh, no no. One of these is the antidote, but that won’t work on its own. I need to slow your friend’s heartbeat down to almost nothing or else the poison will spread faster than the antidote can stop it.’ The apothecary must have noticed Felix’s unconvinced expression. ‘Don’t worry, my dear boy. He’ll be sleeping for a week or so, but when he wakes he’ll be right as rain. Hmm? Yes indeed.’ Felix couldn’t shake the feeling he was heading down a path he’d rather not follow. But what choice did he have? He nodded. Two minutes later, Gotrek appeared even closer to death than before. There was no sign of breathing, no shadow of life. Felix had never seen him so… helpless. The enormity of what had happened hit him like a mounted regiment. He knew it would be up to him to protect Gotrek while he recovered. Assuming he ever recovered. At the same time, he must find out who poisoned the Slayer. And then Felix had an idea. He stood in the pouring rain, listening to the priest pass last rites over Gotrek’s coffin. ‘You’re out early,’ Felix said to the woman standing beside him. ‘It’s my kind of weather,’ she replied. ‘I thought you couldn’t stand the Slayer.’ Ulrika chuckled. ‘I want to make sure he’s really dead.’ ‘How did you hear?’ ‘A lady does not reveal her sources.’ ‘You are no lady. At least, not any more.’ They stood in silence. Felix was aware that his boots were sinking into the boggy ground. After a time he said, ‘I’m trying to find out who killed him.’ ‘Do you have any suspects?’ Felix laughed loudly, drawing stares from the pallbearers and the priest. He cleared his throat and put on a solemn expression. ‘Oh, you’re serious. Where do I start? The most obvious suspect is Pragarti. She’s here in Kutenholz, somewhere.’ ‘You know, the most obvious suspect is rarely the real culprit.’ Felix nodded. ‘Aye. While the list of those with a motive might be long, the number of folk likely to be in the vicinity is much shorter.’ ‘As far as you know.’ Ulrika was quiet for a moment, then she said, ‘So we should start with Pragarti then?’ ‘You know of her?’ ‘Of course, I’m looking for her too. Why else do you think I’m in this Sigmar-forsaken town?’ Ulrika stepped towards the casket, her lithe form conjuring thoughts in Felix’s mind that were inappropriate at a funeral. ‘Can I see the body?’ she asked. ‘Why? Are you thirsty?’ ‘No!’ Ulrika seemed genuinely offended. ‘A morbid sense of curiosity, perhaps?’ ‘I want to examine him for clues.’ ‘Fair enough.’ Felix ushered the priest over and whispered in his ear. The holy man nodded and took a step back. Felix signalled to the pallbearers and, with some difficulty, they raised the lid of the casket. All six of them gasped and stood back. Felix and Ulrika hurried forwards to peer inside. The coffin was filled with books. Of Gotrek’s body there was no sign. ‘I don’t know anything!’ the mortician spluttered, trying to maintain his composure despite the hand clamped around his throat, pinning him to the wall. Ulrika squeezed a little harder. Felix swore he could see the man’s eyes popping out. ‘I find that unlikely,’ Felix said. ‘Now, we can do this the easy way’ – he drew his sword – ‘or we can do this the fun way.’ Felix raised the weapon and rested it in the crook of his free arm. He lined the point up with the mortician’s right eye and slowly inched it closer. The man screamed and writhed, desperate to break free. Felix was disappointed. ‘I’ve not even started yet!’ The mortician was trying to say something. Ulrika released her grip just enough to allow him some air. ‘All right!’ he gasped. ‘Please, I beg you. Let me go… I’ll tell you.’ ‘Some people are just determined to spoil the fun, don’t you think, Ulrika?’ She probed one of her fangs suggestively with the end of her tongue and then said, ‘They can be a real drain.’ She released him. He crumpled to the floor and struggled to recover his breath. All the while he stared warily, not at Felix’s sword but at Ulrika’s teeth. Felix sheathed his blade and hopped up onto an unoccupied slab, hoping it had been washed down since its last use. ‘If there’s something you’re keen to tell us, out with it.’ The mortician lay wheezing with his back to the wall, his gaze still locked on Ulrika. ‘A woman… dressed in robes… came with others… forced me… took the dwarf’s body…’ ‘And where did they take him?’ Ulrika asked. ‘I don’t know! I swear… I have no idea. They paid me… and left.’ She raised an eyebrow. ‘Paid you?’ ‘A token amount… for my trouble.’ ‘Oh, you’re going to need a lot more payment than that…’ Ulrika advanced on him, but Felix stopped her. ‘Don’t! He can’t help us any further. It’s obviously Pragarti who took Gotrek and I don’t think he knows where she is.’ ‘Luckily, I do,’ Ulrika said, heading for the door. Felix stared at her in surprise. Not only was he in search of the same foe as Ulrika, but all this time she knew where the liche was hiding! ‘You know, if you’d told us you were here earlier, we could have avoided all this,’ Felix said as they left the mortuary. ‘Gotrek might still be alive.’ Ulrika laughed. ‘Oh Felix, I know he’s not dead!’ As he struggled to keep up with her, Felix longed for a day when he knew something, anything, that was still a secret. It took about half an hour to reach Kutenholz’s traders’ district. Ulrika passed by warehouse after warehouse, eventually stopping at a derelict site where an old building had collapsed in on itself. One wall had crumbled entirely and the entrance was blocked by fallen beams. ‘Why are we here?’ Felix asked. ‘Gotrek and I searched this area already.’ Ulrika didn’t say a word. She walked towards the nailed-shut doors and, without hesitation, stepped right through them as if they weren’t there. Felix was suddenly all alone. He glanced about, looking for anyone who might be able to assure him he had not gone mad. Hesitantly, he followed. He reached the doors and held out a hand. It passed straight through the illusion. He closed his eyes and stepped forwards. When he looked again he saw the wall of a perfectly intact, smaller warehouse. Ulrika was moving along the outside of the real building, looking for a way in. Felix glanced behind him and saw the fake, ruined shell. From this side he could see it shimmer and fizz. He could even make out the street beyond. ‘Felix, come on!’ He turned just in time to see Ulrika disappear through a window she had forced open. Felix climbed in after her. The warehouse was full of activity. Felix resisted the temptation to stand and stare. Instead he ducked down behind the same pile of boxes Ulrika used for cover. He peered out at the warehouse floor, watching the multitude of workers carrying lanterns, boxes, crates, pieces of metal and other, unidentifiable objects back and forth. They appeared to be constructing some sort of altar in the centre of the space on a raised dais. Supervising them were a smaller number of hooded figures in long grey robes – no doubt Pragarti’s loyal disciples. ‘Do you have any idea how long we spent looking for this place?’ Felix hissed as he moved back out of sight. ‘Aye. Now shut up.’ After all this was over, Felix was going to need a seriously long chat with the vampire, preferably before Gotrek recovered. Otherwise, there wouldn’t be a lot of talking going on; just violence. Felix had no idea how much time had passed, he might even have nodded off for a moment. He hadn’t had much sleep last night, after all. Ulrika was tapping him on the shoulder. ‘What? What is it?’ She pointed in the direction of the warehouse floor. ‘The Slayer,’ she said. Felix peered around the boxes. There was a lot less activity now. The altar was complete and the workers had withdrawn. Only the hooded minions remained, standing solemnly in a circle around the dais. Four of them came into view carrying a litter, upon which lay the body of Gotrek Gurnisson. Felix rose involuntarily, but Ulrika pulled him back down. ‘Not yet!’ she hissed. ‘What are we waiting for?’ Felix whispered angrily. ‘Come to think of it, why didn’t we grab Gotrek before they brought him in here?’ ‘Too many people about,’ Ulrika replied. ‘Plus, I want to see what happens.’ ‘Whatever’s about to happen, it won’t be good for Gotrek!’ ‘Relax, Felix.’ ‘Tell me what she’s up to or I swear I will give us away right now.’ Ulrika sighed. ‘Fine. Pragarti is planning a spell, a big one.’ ‘I know that!’ said Felix. ‘That’s why Gotrek and I were trying to find her and stop her. She’s been gathering ingredients and followers all across the Old World. We’ve been tracking her for months, but we have no idea what the spell is for.’ ‘It will kill every first-born child in the Empire.’ ‘Sigmar’s beard!’ Ulrika continued. ‘The final ingredient is the blood of a dead hero.’ ‘Gotrek? But he’s not dead!’ ‘Exactly. Why do you think I’m waiting to see what happens?’ Felix fell silent and watched as Pragarti stepped onto the dais. She lifted her hood to reveal a hideous, skull-like head. Sunken eyes gazed down at the prone Slayer while boney fingers toyed with the crest atop his head. Her parched skin clung tightly to withered cheek bones and her ghastly teeth, no longer concealed by lips, chattered as she began an incantation. Despite the risk to Gotrek, Felix was also curious to see what would happen. Hopefully it would involve Pragarti’s pickled innards spread over a wide area. ‘Get up!’ The voice was so loud, everyone in the vast space turned to look. Felix and Ulrika rose slowly. There was a gasp from many of the assembled throng. The two men who had discovered the eavesdroppers were carrying pistols. Their faces were obscured by their grey hoods. ‘Why am I being interrupted?’ Pragarti snapped, her voice echoing. ‘Supreme sorceress,’ one of the men said, pushing his captors out into the open. ‘We found these two watching the proceedings.’ As Felix approached, Pragarti’s fury turned to humour. ‘Herr Jaeger,’ she said. ‘And Ulrika Magdova! I’m so glad you could join us. Have you come to pay your last respects?’ ‘You’ll regret poisoning the Slayer, Pragarti,’ Felix said, matching her steely gaze. ‘I would love to take the credit, Herr Jaeger, but I would be doing the real killer a disservice. It’s true I wanted Herr Gurnisson dead, but I had not intended him to die for a week or so. But since someone went to so much trouble, I thought it best to take advantage of such delightful happenstance. Genuine heroes are hard to come by.’ At first, Felix assumed she was lying. But why wouldn’t she take credit for the Slayer’s death if she was responsible? With no reason to lie, she must be telling the truth. So, if not Pragarti, then who had sent the assassin? Ulrika slapped Felix on the arm to get his attention. He followed her gaze to the far corner of the warehouse where a sewer grating had been flipped over. Nobody else had noticed. All eyes were fixed on Pragarti. The sorceress didn’t seem to care that her prisoners weren’t paying attention to her. ‘I shall continue, then, if that’s all right with you and your distinguished friend, Herr Jaeger.’ ‘Yes, please do,’ Felix said, turning back. ‘It’s just a shame you won’t get to finish the spell. I for one would love to have seen the results.’ Pragarti smiled – at least Felix assumed it was a smile, it was hard to tell. He glanced once again at the grating in the far corner. Something was emerging. No, not something. Somethings. Dozens of them. Black, fast moving, rodent-like. Oh no. Now all eyes turned to the flurry of activity in the corner. Swords were drawn, pistols readied, cloaks and hoods shaken off. Felix backed away, following Ulrika’s pre-emptive retreat. Nobody stopped them. A surge of black fur, twitching whiskers and deafening squeaks was pouring out of the sewer. A large area of the space was now coated with writhing ratmen. It was like watching a swarm of giant insects. The smell of them was overwhelming: musty and cloying. ‘Gotrek!’ Felix yelled to Ulrika, taking a step towards the dais. ‘There isn’t time,’ Ulrika insisted, pulling him back with astonishing strength. ‘We have to go or we’ll be cut to ribbons!’ The skaven descended on Pragarti’s followers like a waterfall of thick, black pitch. Screams of dying men filled the air, mixing with the cacophony of chittering and squawking. The sheer number of skaven was enough to convince Felix to turn and flee. As he ran he glanced back at Pragarti. She seemed twice her usual size now. Fire and lightning crackled from her bony digits. Creature after creature fell in crisp, toasted heaps at her feet as one by one she deep fried them in their own fur. The unnatural skaven stench was joined by the sickly sweet smell of sizzling flesh and smoldering fur. Hundreds of the creatures were roasted by Pragarti or cut down by the swords and pistols of her followers. But they didn’t stop; the torrent of black fur seemed endless. Felix had seen skaven attacks like this before, but still he couldn’t tear his eyes away. ‘How have you survived this long?’ Ulrika said. She yanked Felix’s arm again and led him out of the building. The terrible screams of the dying – human and ratkin alike – were instantly muted as they passed back through the false image of the derelict warehouse. The illusion of shattered commerce masked the terrible battle taking place within. Felix was glad of it. ‘What now?’ he asked. ‘Now we wait.’ ‘For what?’ ‘I have a theory,’ Ulrika said. ‘Ragethar is a skaven poison. Perhaps they’ve come to collect Gotrek’s body. All we need to do is wait until they win, then follow them.’ Felix stared at the ruined facade for a moment, lost in thought. ‘Perhaps you’re right.’ When they re-entered some time later, it was hard to breathe. Clouds of scalded fur made the air thick. Bodies, skaven and human, littered the floor. The dying could be heard moaning and whimpering. Felix ignored them all. There was only one body he was interested in. He leapt up onto the dais but saw that it was empty. He searched for some sign, any evidence that the Slayer had been consumed. Thankfully there was none. ‘They took him?’ Ulrika asked, eyeing the dead and wounded like a hungry, fat man would ogle a banquet table loaded with fine meats and delicacies. ‘Aye, I think so.’ She nodded. ‘Stands to reason. So we go after them?’ Felix saw no other choice, though he wished for one. He must have spent a good quarter of his life in sewers and tunnels. He knew full well that Gotrek would never leave him down there with a bunch of ratmen. He placed a hand on his sword hilt to still his nerves and followed Ulrika to the corner of the room. In their haste to retreat, the skaven had left the grate open. Patches of fur clung to the sides of the square entrance. Felix tried to avoid making contact with anything as he dropped down into the tunnel below. Ulrika landed silently beside him and pointed ahead. ‘The skaven will go as deep as possible as quickly as possible. Come on.’ The smell down here was stomach-churning, though slightly more tolerable than that of the battle’s aftermath in the warehouse. Felix sloshed through the town’s detritus as quickly as his aching legs would carry him, hoping that none of the undesirable flotsam spilled into his boots. He found himself missing the wide sewers of Nuln with their ledges alongside the water channel. Kutenholz was a town just big enough to warrant a sewer system, but it wasn’t extensive. Every now and then they would pass under a grating, which allowed some light to filter down into the tunnel. After a time, Felix could hear the rush of flowing water some distance ahead. Presumably this was the sewer’s outlet to the river. Instead of continuing on, Ulrika led him to a side tunnel. Felix realised it was in fact a large hole, gnawed into the stones lining the sewer walls. As they walked, all trace of light faded and the ground sloped downwards. Felix knew they were entering the skaven undertown. He was aware of labyrinthine nests hidden beneath the Empire’s cities, but it disturbed him that even towns such as Kutenholz had their own secret hives of activity beneath the surface. Felix only became aware that Ulrika had stopped when he walked into her. He could barely make her out and was grateful for her astonishing night vision. He stepped back and unsheathed his sword part of the way, as quietly as he could. But a moment later, she started up again so it must have been a false alarm. After what seemed like a lifetime of walking, the tunnel opened out. Ulrika halted again. ‘That way is a large chamber,’ she whispered. Felix couldn’t see where she was pointing. ‘It will likely be full of skaven. I’m surprised we’ve not seen any yet.’ Felix could hear noises from the gloom: voices, squeaking, chattering. ‘We should find another way in.’ ‘Aye. Let’s go this way.’ Ulrika headed off. Felix struggled to keep up with her. His leg muscles burned. Finally, light crept into the tunnel. The sound of a single skaven speaking, punctuated by roars and squeaks from a large audience, carried clearly to Felix. In time, the pathway opened onto an empty platform, set up high above a huge chamber. As they crept out onto the rickety balcony, they could see below them hundreds of skaven gathered in the large space. All those present, mostly clanrats with a few rat-ogres here and there, stared up at a single, grey-furred creature addressing them. Its robes and markings were familiar to Felix, but the skaven itself was not. This grey seer was young, eager, no doubt deadly. At its feet lay the prone body of Gotrek. Clearly, all was not well with this skaven army. It was hard to tell since they spoke in their native tongue, but to Felix it seemed as though the chieftains were speaking out against their leader, questioning his motives. One of them spoke louder than the rest in a series of squeaks and hisses. To Felix’s surprise, he could understand every word the irritated grey seer spoke in reply. ‘Castle Reiksguard can wait. Capturing the Slayer’s body is not waste of time-effort. The Council of Thirteen will reward us when they receive this gift. All of us will be rewarded, yes-yes?’ The reaction to this sounded more positive. In the enclosed cavern the noise was deafening. ‘Why is he speaking Reikspiel?’ Felix asked Ulrika in a whisper. ‘He’s showing off,’ she replied. Another chieftain spoke, this time in broken Reikspiel. ‘Who is Slayer, Grey Seer Gnawklaw? Why Council care?’ Gnawklaw tapped his staff upon the stone floor impatiently, quieting the din that accompanied the chieftain’s question. It was clear most of the assembled skaven didn’t understand the exchange but were following their chieftain’s lead. ‘He is much-much valuable. This prize is far greater than anything Castle Reiksguard has to offer. Besides, we can go there later. We will take both prizes to the Council and all of us will share in this success. We will achieve what my predecessor could not.’ Something about the way Gnawklaw said ‘predecessor’ put Felix in mind of an old enemy. He shuddered. ‘You risk first mission as grey seer, and all our lives on hunch?’ the chieftain said. ‘What guarantee do we have that you will not take all the glory for yourself?’ another asked. Gnawklaw rapped his staff on the ground again to quell the roar of agreement. ‘I only need to present the Slayer’s head to the Council. Perhaps I should divide up the rest and share amongst you? Then you too will have proof of your role in the death of the greatest skaven nemesis!’ These words received the biggest roar of approval so far, enough to make Felix’s ears ring. Once the noise had calmed down, he whispered to Ulrika. ‘They’re going to chop Gotrek up! We have to get him out!’ ‘I don’t think so,’ she replied. ‘Look.’ Once again, Ulrika’s sharp eyes had spotted what Felix had missed. He peered again at the Slayer’s corpse-like form. Was that a twitching hand he spied? It couldn’t be. Gotrek wasn’t supposed to wake up for a week at least! ‘We will not become great by scuttling around, stealing from man-castles in the dead of night. We will become great by delivering the body of our greatest enemy to the Council of Thirteen. We will achieve glory! Now, who wants a cut-slice of Slayer?’ Gnawklaw drew a wickedly sharp blade from his robes, and in one swift moment, took a chunk out of Gotrek’s crest. Felix winced but saw no blood. Still, the Slayer was going to be angry. The grey seer tossed the handful of hair into the crowd and the skaven chattered and squeaked appreciatively. ‘What’s that? You want a piece of his body? How about a hand?’ A roar of approval. ‘Ulrika!’ Felix hissed, hand on his sword, making ready to jump from the platform. The skaven blade swished towards Gotrek’s arm, but to the grey seer’s shock it didn’t make contact. A hand clamped around his wrist. Gnawklaw screamed. He tore his arm free and spoke a very rapid incantation. A puff of smoke accompanied his hasty departure. Panic struck in a ripple effect, from those skaven nearest the front all the way to the back, as the ratkin all tried to leave at the same time. Many were trampled to death by the confused rat-ogres. Some made it out. Others were cut down by the hacking and slashing of a very angry Slayer armed with the razor-sharp blade of a grey seer. ‘Why are you running away?’ Gotrek cried, his voice slicing through the terrified mob as keenly as the knife parted their flesh. ‘I’m dead, remember?’ Bits of skaven flew in all directions as the Slayer took out his frustrations upon them. ‘You want a piece of me?’ he roared, slicing a startled clanrat in two. Felix and Ulrika jumped down from the ledge, their weapons ready. A mass of fleeing skaven tried to change direction when they saw the danger ahead, but not fast enough. Ulrika was a whirr of motion, dead clanrats dropping at her feet like the faithful worshipping Sigmar himself. Felix did his fair share of damage, his sword gutting, stabbing and slashing at the hateful creatures as they tried to run. It wasn’t long before Ulrika and Felix reached Gotrek. ‘I am not happy,’ the Slayer grumbled. ‘Good!’ Felix said. ‘Take it out on the vermin!’ Gotrek was only too keen to comply. The remaining skaven had rallied a defence of sorts, forming a barrier between the three comrades and the retreating chieftains. ‘Did you bring my axe?’ the Slayer asked. ‘No,’ said Felix. ‘I didn’t think you’d be needing it.’ Gotrek grunted. ‘Looks like we will need to fight our way out of here, manling.’ ‘Wouldn’t have it any other way.’ The two companions yelled an impromptu battle-cry and charged, smashing into the skaven front line like a two-man avalanche. Ulrika rolled her eyes. ‘Men,’ she said. Then she too rushed to join the fight. Felix emerged into the moonlight, grateful for the cool night breeze on his face and the feeling of freedom. They were some way from Kutenholz, on the banks of the river Delb. His eyes had grown so accustomed to the dark of the tunnels that here, outside, it might as well have been noon on a summer day. Ulrika and Gotrek emerged from the tunnel. Both were covered in skaven blood. Felix assumed he was too. He collapsed by the river, lying on his back and drinking in the sky and the stars. It was a beautiful night by any measure, but it felt even sweeter to be alive and out in the open air again. He rolled to the water’s edge and drank for a good while. Gotrek flopped down beside him. ‘Where’s my axe, manling?’ he demanded. Typical Gotrek. Not, ‘Why was I dead?’ but, ‘Where’s my axe?’ ‘It’s safe, don’t worry.’ ‘And the assassin?’ ‘Just a mercenary.’ Gotrek grunted. ‘I have not been poisoned for a long time. I heard the assassin but assumed he had come to slit my throat. Didn’t see the dart until it was too late. I assume we know who hired him.’ ‘Not for sure,’ said Ulrika. ‘What is she doing here?’ Gotrek asked, as if noticing her for the first time. ‘I’m just helping to save your life,’ Ulrika snapped. ‘Unlikely,’ said Gotrek. Ulrika coughed. ‘Excuse me! I fought Pragarti and the skaven today, risking my neck for you.’ ‘You have been busy,’ Gotrek said. Felix turned on his side and propped his head up with one hand. He tossed small stones into the river with the other. ‘It’s curious, though, Gotrek. Every step of the way, Ulrika’s been several moves ahead of me.’ ‘Not that curious, manling. The vampire is as slippery as a buttered eel.’ ‘How dare–’ ‘And isn’t it curious,’ Felix continued, ‘that Ulrika knew you’d been poisoned with ragethar, even though I never mentioned it to her?’ ‘I talked to the apothecary,’ she explained. ‘Perhaps, or maybe you already knew which poison was used.’ Before Ulrika could say anything, Gotrek moved with surprising speed. He leapt at the vampire, forced her to the ground and held the skaven blade against her throat. ‘Let me go!’ Ulrika hissed, struggling to break free of the Slayer’s iron grip. ‘Bite me,’ said Gotrek. Felix stood up and walked over. He crouched down close to Ulrika’s face. ‘And then I thought about how unlikely it was that the apothecary just down the street from the inn would not only recognise the symptoms of an obscure skaven poison but also have the antidote handy. By your own admission, you wanted Pragarti to believe Gotrek was dead so her spell would backfire. That’s why you had him poisoned. Am I right?’ ‘Damn heroes,’ she spluttered. ‘You were so painfully obvious, stomping around looking for Pragarti! I couldn’t go near you without her spies seeing me, and I didn’t want her to know I was on her trail. I wanted her spell to backfire because she thought the Slayer was dead. If I had told you what I was planning, she would have found out.’ ‘I hope for your sake the plan worked and Pragarti is dead,’ Gotrek said, his face mere inches from Ulrika’s. He pressed the blade against her neck, drawing blood. ‘Damn skaven interrupted us. I don’t know if she escaped or not.’ ‘A pity. So, vampire, why should I not kill you right now?’ ‘Felix will not let you!’ Ulrika insisted. Felix didn’t relish this. He was mad at Ulrika for what she had put him and the Slayer through. But her heart – cold and unbeating as it was – was in the right place. The threat to the Empire had been averted. ‘Let her go,’ Felix said. ‘You do not tell me what to do, manling!’ Gotrek thundered. ‘I’m not telling you, Slayer. I’m asking you.’ For a moment Gotrek seemed about to slice Ulrika’s head clean off. Then he growled in frustration and released her. She was on her feet in a second, but smart enough not to draw her weapon. She touched the fine cut on her neck and then licked the blood from her fingers. ‘You had best stay away from us in future,’ Felix warned. ‘Next time I may not ask Gotrek to spare you.’ Ulrika scowled at them, and then she was gone. Gotrek and Felix sat by the river as the first rays of dawn crept across the forest floor. ‘Next time, I will ensure your funeral is more fitting,’ Felix promised the Slayer. ‘Aye, manling. Though I wonder if I am capable of dying.’ ‘Let’s never stop trying to find out, eh, Gotrek?’ ‘I’ll drink to that.’