THE DARK BENEATH THE WORLD 
by William King 
	
	A scream echoed through the cold mountain air. Felix Jaegar ripped his sword from its scabbard and stood ready. Snowflakes fell, a chill wind stirred his long blonde hair. He threw his red woollen cloak back over his shoulder, leaving his swordarm unobstructed. The bleak landscape was a perfect site for an ambush; pitted and rocky, harsher than the face of the greater moon, Mannslieb.
	He glanced left, upslope. A few stunted pines clutched the mountainside with gnarled roots. Downslope, to the right, lay an almost sheer drop. Neither direction held any sign of danger. No bandits, no orcs, none of the darker things that lurked in these remote heights.
	"The noise came from up ahead, manling," said Gotrek Gurnisson, rubbing his eye patch with one huge, tattooed hand. His nose chain jingled in the breeze, "There's a fight going on up there."
	Uncertainty filled Felix. He knew Gotrek was correct; even with only one eye the dwarfs senses were keener than his own. The question was whether to stand and wait or push forward and investigate. Potential enemies filled the World's Edge Mountains. The chances of finding friends were slim. His natural caution inclined him towards doing nothing.
	Gotrek charged up the scree-strewn path, enormous axe held high above his red-dyed crest of hair. Felix cursed. For once why couldn't Gotrek remember that not everyone was a Trollslayer?
	"We didn't all swear to seek out death in combat," he muttered, before following slowly, for he lacked the dwarfs sure-footedness over the treacherous terrain.
	Felix took in the scene of carnage with one swift glance. In the long depression a gang of hideous green-skinned orcs battled a smaller group of men. They fought across a fast-flowing stream that ran down the little valley before disappearing over the mountain edge in a cloud of silver spray. The waters ran red with the blood of men and horses. It was easy to imagine what had happened - an ambush as the humans crossed the water.
	In mid-stream a huge man in shiny plate-mail battled with three brawny bow-legged assailants. Wielding his two-handed blade effortlessly, he feinted a blow to his left then beheaded a different foe with one mighty swing. The force of his blow almost overbalanced him. Felix realized the stream bed must be slippy.
	On the nearer bank a man in dark-brocaded robes chanted a spell. A ball of fire blazed in his left hand. A dark-haired warrior in the furred hat and deerskin tunic of a trapper protected the wizard from two screaming orcs, using only a longsword held in his left hand. As Felix watched a blonde man-at-arms fell, trying to hold in entrails released by a scimitar slash to his stomach. As he went down burly half-naked savages hacked him to pieces. Only three of the ambushed party now stood. They were outnumbered five to one.
	"Orcish filth! You dare to soil the sacred approach to Carag Eight Peaks.Uruk mortari! Prepare to die," screamed Gotrek, charging down into the melee.
	An enormous orc turned to face him. A look of surprise froze forever on its face as Gotrek lopped off its head with one mighty stroke. Emerald blood spattered the Trollslayer's tattooed body. Raving and snarling, the dwarf ploughed into the orcs, hewing left and right in a great double arc. Dead bodies lay everywhere his axe fell.
	Felix half-ran, half-slid downslope. He fell at the bottom. Wet grass tickled his nostrils. He rolled to one side as a scimitar-wielding monster half-again his bulk chopped down at him. He sprang to his feet, ducked a cut that could have chopped him in two and lopped off an earlobe with his return blow.
	Startled, the orc clutched at its wound, trying to stop the blood flowing down its face. Felix seized his chance and stabbed upwards through the bottom of the creature's jaw into its brain.
	As he struggled to free his blade another monster leapt on him, swinging its blade high over its head. Felix let go of his weapon and moved to meet his attacker. He grabbed its wrists as he was overborne. Foetid breath made him gag as the orc fell on top of him. The thing dropped its weapon and they wrestled on the ground, rolling downslope into the stream.
	Copper rings set in the orc's flesh pinched him as it sought to bite his throat with its sharp tusks. Felix writhed to avoid having his windpipe torn out. The orc pushed his head under water. Felix looked up through stinging eyes and saw the strangely distorted face leering down at him. Bitterly cold water filled his mouth. There was no air in his lungs. Frantically he shifted his weight, trying to dislodge his attacker. They rolled and suddenly Felix was astride the orc, trying to push its head under water.
	The orc grabbed his wrists and pushed. Locked in a deadly embrace they began to roll downslope through the freezing water. Again and again Felix's head went under, again and again he floundered gasping to the surface. Sharp rocks speared his flesh. Realization of his peril flashed through his mind; the current and their own momentum carried them towards the cliff edge. Felix tried to break free, giving up all thoughts of drowning his opponent.
	When next his head broke surface, he looked for the cloud of spray. To his horror it was only twenty feet away. He redoubled his efforts to escape but the orc held on like grim death and they continued their downward tumble.
	Ten feet now. Felix heard the rumble of the fall, felt the distorted currents of the turbulent water. He drew back his fist and smacked the orc in the face. One of its tusks broke but it would not let go.
	Five feet to go. He lashed out once more, bouncing the orc's head off the stream bottom. Its grip loosened. He was almost free.
	Suddenly he was falling, tumbling through water and air. He frantically grabbed for something, anything, to hold. His hand smashed into the rock and he struggled for a grip on the slippery streambed. The pressure of the freezing water on his head and shoulders was almost intolerable. He risked a downward look.
	A long way below he saw the valleys in the foothills. So great was the drop that copses of trees looked like blotches of mould on the landscape. The falling orc was a receding, screaming greenish blob.
	With the last of hs strength Felix flopped over the edge, pushing against the current with cold-numbed fingers. For a second he thought he wasn't going to make it, then he was face down in the stream, gasping in bubbling water.
	He crawled out onto the bank. The orcs, their leaders dead, had been routed. Felix pulled off his sodden cloak, wondering whether he was going to catch a chill from the cold mountain air.
	"By Sigmar, that was well done. We were sore pressed there," said the tall, dark-haired man. He made the sign of the hammer over his chest as he spoke. He was handsome in a coarse way. His armour, although dented, was of the finest quality. The intensity of his stare made Felix uneasy.
	"It would seem we owe you gentlemen our lives," said the mage. He too was richly dressed. His brocaded robes were trimmed with gold thread, scrolls covered in mystical symbols were held by rings set in it. His long blonde hair was cut in a peculiar fashion. From the centre of his flowing locks rose a crest not unlike Gotrek's save for the fact that it was undyed and cropped short. Felix wondered if it was the mark of some mystical order.
	The armoured man's laughter boomed out. "It is the prophecy, Johann. Did not the god say one of our ancient brethren would aid us! Sigmar be praised! This is a good sign indeed."
	Felix looked over at the trapper. He spread his hands and shrugged helplessly. A certain cynical humour was apparent in the way he raised an eyebrow.
	"I am Felix Jaegar, of Altdorf, and this is my companion Gotrek Gurnisson, the Trollslayer," Felix said, bowing to the knight.
	"I am Aldred Keppler, known as Fellblade, Templar-Knight of the Order of the Fiery Heart," said the armoured man. Felix suppressed a shudder. In his homeland, the Empire, the order was famed for the fanatic zeal with which they pursued their crusade against the goblin races. And those humans they considered heretics.
	The knight gestured to the wizard. "This is my adviser on matters magical; Doctor Johann Zauberlich of the University of Nuln."
	"At your service," said Zauberlich, bowing.
	"I am Jules Gascoigne, once of Quenelles in Bretonnia. Although that was many a year ago," said the fur-clad man. He had a Bretonnian accent.
	"Herr Gascoigne is a scout. I engaged him to guide us through these mountains," said Aldred. "I have a great work to perform at Carag Eight Peaks."
	Felix and Gotrek exchanged glances. Felix knew the dwarf would rather they travelled alone in search of the lost treasure of the dwarven city. However, parting company from their chance-met companions would only arouse suspicion.
	"Perhaps we should join forces," said Felix, hoping Gotrek would follow his line of reasoning. "We too are bound for the city of the eight peaks, and this road is far from safe."
	"A capital suggestion," said the wizard.
	"Doubtless your companion, he goes to visit his kin," said Jules, oblivious to the daggered stare Gotrek gave him. "There still is a small outpost of Imperial dwarfs there."
	"We had best bury your companions," said Felix to fill the silence.
	"Why so glum, friend Felix? Is it not a lovely night?" asked Jules Gascoigne sardonically, blowing on his hands to warm them against the bitter cold. Felix pulled his spare cloak up over his knees and extended his hands towards the small fire Zauberlich had lit with a word of power. He looked over at the Bretonnian, his face turned into a daemonic mask by the underlight.
	"These mountains are chill and daunting," Felix replied. "Who knows what perils they hide?"
	"Who indeed? We are close to the Darklands. Some say that is the very spawning ground of orcs and all other greenskin devils. Also, I have heard tales that these mountains are haunted."
	Felix gestured towards the fire. "Do you think we should have lit this?" From nearby came Gotrek's reassuring snores and the regular rhythmic breathing of the others.
	Jules chuckled. "It is a choice between evils, no? I have seen men freeze to death on nights like this. If anything attacks us, it is best that we have light to see by. The greenskins may be able to spot a man in the dark but we cannot, eh? No, I do not think the fire makes much difference. However I do not think this why you are sad."
	He looked at Felix expectantly. Without really knowing why, Felix told the whole sorry tale of how he and Gotrek had joined the von Diehl expedition to the Border Princes. Von Diehl and his retainers had sought peace in a new land and found only terrible death. He told of his meeting with his beloved Kirsten. The Bretonnian listened sympathetically. When Felix finished telling of Kirsten's death, Jules shook his head.
	"Ah, it is a sorry world we live in, is it not?"
	"It is indeed."
	"Do not dwell on the past, my friend. It cannot be altered. In time all wounds heal."
	"It doesn't seem that way to me."
	They fell into silence. Felix looked over at the sleeping dwarf. Gotrek sat like a gargoyle, immobile, eyes shut but axe in hand. Felix wondered how the dwarf would take the scout's advice. Gotrek, like all dwarfs, constantly brooded on the lessons of the past. His sense of history drove him inexorably towards his future. He claimed that men had imperfect memories, that dwarfs' were better.
	Is that why he seeks his doom, Felix wondered? Does his shame burn in him as strong now as at the moment he committed whatever crime he seeks to atone for? Felix pondered what it must be like to live with the past intruding so strongly into the present that it could never be forgotten. I would go mad, he thought.
	He inspected his own grief and tried to recall it new-minted. It seemed that it had diminished by a particle, had been eroded by time and would continue to be so. He felt no better, knowing that he was doomed to forget, to have his memories become pale shadows. Perhaps the dwarfish way was better, he thought. Even the time he had spent with Kirsten seemed paler, more colourless.
	During his watch Felix saw a greenish witchlight far upslope on the mountain. As he stared he felt a sense of dread. The light drifted about as if seeking something. In its midst was a vaguely human form. Felix had heard tales of the daemons haunting these mountains. He looked over at Gotrek, wondering whether he should wake him.
	The light vanished. Felix watched for a long time but he saw no further sign. Perhaps it had been an after-image of the fire or a trick of the light and a tired mind. Somehow he doubted it.
	In the morning he dismissed his suspicions. The party followed the road round the shoulder of the mountain and suddenly a new land lay spread out before them under the grey, overcast sky.
	They looked down into a long valley nestled in a basin between eight mountains. The peaks rose like the talons of a giant claw. In their palm lay a city.
	Huge walls blocked the valley's entrance, built from blocks of stone taller than a man. Within the walls, next to a silver lake, sat a great keep. A town nestled beneath it. Long roads ran from the fortress to lesser towers at the base of each mountain. Drystone dykes criss-crossed the valley, creating a patchwork of overgrown fields.
	Gotrek nudged Felix in the ribs and pointed towards the peaks.
	"Behold," he said, a hint of wonder in voice. "Carag Zilfin, Carag Yar, Carag Mhonar and the Silverhorn."
	"Those are the eastern mountains," said Aldred. "Carag Lhune, Carag Rhyn, Carag Nar and the White Lady guard the western approach."
	Gotrek looked at the Sigmarian respectfully. "You speak truthfully, Templar. Long have these mountains haunted my dreams. Long have I wished to stand in their shadow."
	Felix looked down on the city. There was a sense of enduring strength about the place. Carag Eight Peaks had been built from the bones of mountains to endure till the end of the world.
	"It is beautiful," he said.
	Gotrek looked at him with fierce pride. "In ancient times, this city was known as the Queen of the Silver Depths. It was the fairest of our realms and we grieved its fall most sorely."
	Jules stared down at the massive walls. "How could it have fallen? All the armies of all the kings of men could be stood off in these mountains. Those fields could feed the population of Quenelles."
	Gotrek shook his head and stared down into the city as intensely as if he were staring back into elder days.
	"In pride we built Eight Peaks, at the zenith of our ancient power. It was a wonder to the world; more beautiful than Everpeak, open to the sky. A sign of our wealth and power, strong beyond the measure of dwarfs or elves or men. We thought it would never fall and the mines it guarded would be ours forever."
	The Trollslayer spoke with a bitter, compelling passion that Felix had never heard in his voice before.
	"What fools we were," Gotrek said. "What fools we were. In pride we built Eight Peaks, sure of our mastery of stone and the dark beneath the world. Yet even as we built the city the seeds of its doom were planted."
	"What happened?" asked Felix.
	"Our quarrel with the elves began; we scourged them from the forests and drove them from the lands. After that who were we to trade with? Commerce between our races had been the source of much wealth, tainted though it was. Worse, the cost in lives was more grievous than the cost to our merchants. The finest warriors of three generations fell in that bitter struggle."
	"Still, your folk now controlled all the land between the World's Edge mountains and the Great Sea," said Zauberlich with a pedant's smugness. "So claims Ipsen in his bookWars of the Ancients."
	The acid of Gotrek's laughter could have corroded steel. "Did we? I doubt it. While we had warred with our faithless allies the dark gathered its strength. We were weary of war when the black mountains belched forth their clouds of ash. The sky was overcast and the sun hid its face. Our crops died and our cattle sickened. Our people had returned to the safety of their cities; and from the very heart of our realm, from the place we imagined ourselves strongest, our foes burst forth."
	He stopped speaking and in the silence Felix imagined he heard the caw of some distant bird.
	"From tunnels far below any we had ever dug our enemies struck into the core of our fortresses. Through mines that had been the source of our wealth poured armies of goblins and rat-like Skaven and things far, far worse."
	"What did your people do?" asked Felix.
	Gotrek spread his arms wide and looked into their faces. "What could we do? We took up our weapons and went again to war. And a terrible war it was. Our battles with the elves had taken place under the sky, through field and forest. The new war was fought in cramped spaces in the long dark, with dreadful weapons and a ferocity beyond your imagining. Shafts were collapsed, corridors scoured with firethrowers, pits flooded. Our foes responded with poison gas and vile sorcery and the summoning of daemons. Beneath where we now stand we fought with every resource we could muster, with all our weapons and all the courage desperation brings. We fought and we lost. Step by step we were driven from our homes."
	Felix looked down at the placid city. It seemed impossible that what Gotrek described could ever have happened and yet there was something in the Trollslayer's voice that compelled belief. Felix imagined the desperate struggle of those long-ago dwarfs, their fear and bewilderment as they were pushed from the place they had believed was theirs. He pictured them fighting their doomed struggle with more-than-human tenacity.
	"In the end it became obvious that we could not hold the city so the tombs of our kings and the treasure-vaults were sealed and hidden by cunning devices. We abandoned this place to our foes."
	Gotrek glared at them. "Since then we have not been so foolish as to believe any place is secure from the dark."
	All through the long day, as they approached the wall, Felix realized how much the old structures had suffered. What, from a distance, gave the impression of ageless strength and sureness became, on closer inspection, just as ruined as the road upon which they travelled.
	The curtain wall blocking the road into the valley was four times as tall as a man and passed between steep, sheer cliffs. Signs of neglect were obvious. Moss grew between the cracks of the great stone blocks. The stones were pitted by rain channels and mottled with yellow lichen. Some were blackened as if by fire. A huge section of the wall had tumbled away.
	His companions were silent. The desolation cast a pall over the party. Felix felt depressed and on edge. It was as if the spirits of antiquity watched over them, brooding over the tumbled remains of ancient grandeur. Felix's hand never strayed far from the hilt of his sword.
	The cracked valves of the ancient gate had been wedged open. Someone had made a half-hearted attempt to clear the sign of the hammer and crown over eight peaks carved into the stone. Already the lichen was growing back into place.
	"Someone has been here recently," said Jules, studying the gates closely.
	"I can see how you earned your reputation as a scout," said Gotrek sarcastically.
	"Stay where you are," boomed out an unfamiliar voice. "Unless you want to be filled with crossbow bolts."
	Felix looked up at the parapet. He saw the helmeted heads of a dozen dwarfs looking down through the battlements. Each pointed a loaded crossbow at them.
	"Welcome to Carag Eight Peaks," said their greybearded leader. "I hope you have good reason for trespassing on the domain of Prince Belegar."
	Under grey-white clouds they marched through the city. It was a scene from after the day of judgement when the forces of Chaos returned to claim the world. Houses had tumbled and fallen into the streets. A fusty rotten smell came from many of the buildings. Evil-looking ravens cawed from the remains of old chimneys. Clouds of the gaunt, black birds soared above them.
	The score of dwarfish warriors accompanying them were constantly on the alert. They scanned the doorways as if expecting ambush. Their crossbows were loaded and ready. They gave the impression of being in the middle of a battlefield.
	Once they halted. The leader gestured for silence. Everyone stood listening. Felix thought he heard a scuttling sound but wasn't sure. He strained his eyes against the early evening gloom but could see no sign of trouble. The company leader gestured.
	Two armoured dwarfs moved cautiously towards the corner and glanced around. The rest formed into a square. After a long tense moment the scouts gave the sign for all clear.
	The quiet was broken by Gotrek's laughter. "Scared of a few gobbos?" he asked.
	The leader glared at him. "There are worse things than goblins abroad on nights like this. Be assured of it." he said.
	Gotrek ran his thumb down the blade of his axe, drawing blood. "Bring them on," he roared. "Bring them on!"
	His shout echoed through the ruins and was swallowed by ominous silence. After that even Gotrek was quiet.
	The city was larger than Felix had imagined; perhaps the size of Altdorf, greatest city of the Empire. Most of it was ruined, devastated by ancient wars.
	"Surely your own people did not cause all this damage. Some of it seems quite recent," Felix said.
	"Gobbos," Gotrek replied. "It is the curse of their kind that when they have no-one else to fight they fight amongst themselves. Doubtless after the city fell it was divided up among various warlords. Sure as elvish treachery, they'd fall out over the division of spoils.
	"In addition there have been many attempts to recapture the city by my kin and men from the Border Princes. There's still a motherlode of silver down there."
	He spat. "No attempt to hold the city has ever lasted. The dark has lain here. Where once it has been can never again be truly free of it."
	They entered an area where the buildings had been partially repaired and which now seemed abandoned again. An attempt to re-colonize the city had failed, defeated by the sheer immensity of the ruins. Under the walls of the great keep the dwarfs seemed more relaxed. Their leader grumbled the occasional order to keep alert.
	"Remember Lars," he said. "He and his men were killed while on the path to the great gate."
	The dwarfs immediately reverted to their stern watchfulness.
	Felix kept his hand near his sword.
	"This is not a healthy place," whispered Jules Gascoigne.
	As soon as they were through it, the keep's great gate closed with a crash like the fall of towers.
	The hall was bleak, its walls covered by threadbare tapestries. It was lit by strange glowing gems that hung from a chandelier in the ceiling. On a throne of carved ivory inlaid with gold sat an aged dwarf, flanked by lines of mailed, blue-tunicked warriors. He gazed down with rheumy eyes, his glance flickering from the Trollslayer to the humans. Beside the ancient, a purple-robed female dwarf watched the whole proceeding with a strange, serene intensity. From a chain around her neck dangled an iron-bound book.
	Felix thought he detected strain in the faces of the Imperial dwarfs. Perhaps dwelling in the haunted and run-down city had sapped their morale. Or perhaps it was something more; they seemed constantly to look over their shoulders. They started at the slightest noise.
	"State your business, strangers," said the aged dwarf in a deep, proud, brittle voice. "Why have you come here?"
	Gotrek glared back at him loutishly. "I am Gotrek Gurnisson, once of Everpeak. I have come to hunt troll in the dark beneath the world. The manling Felix Jaegar is my blood-brother, a poet and rememberer. Do you seek to deny me my right?"
	As he said the final sentence Gotrek hefted his axe. The dwarfish soldiers raised their hammers.
	The ancient laughed. "No, Gotrek Gurnisson, I do not. Your path is an honourable one and I see no reason to stand in it. Although your choice of brethren is an ill one."
	The dwarfish soldiers began to mutter amongst themselves. Felix felt baffled. It seemed as if Gotrek had broken some incomprehensible taboo.
	"There is precedent," said the robed dwarfess. The sounds of consternation stopped. Felix expected her to speak further, to expand on what she had said but she did not. It seemed enough to the dwarfs that she had spoken.
	"You both may pass, Gotrek, son of Gurni. Be careful of the gate you choose into the dark and beware lest your courage fail you." His voice held no hint of concern, only bitterness and secret shame.
	Gotrek nodded curtly to the dwarf lord and withdrew to the back of the hall. Felix gave his best court bow, then followed the Trollslayer.
	"State your business, strangers," said the ruler. Aldred went down on one knee before the throne and the others followed suit.
	"I have come on a matter concerning my faith and an ancient pledge of aid between your folk and mine. My tale is a complex one and may take some time to tell."
	The dwarf laughed nastily. Once again Felix sensed some secret knowledge that ate at the aged dwarf-lord. "Speak on. We are rich in no other commodity but time. We can spend it freely."
	"Thank you. Am I correct in assuming that you are the same Prince Belegar who led the expedition to reclaim this city from the greenskins twenty years ago?"
	Belegar nodded. "You are correct."
	"Your guide was a dwarfish prospector called Faragrim, who found many secret ways back into the city below the Eight Peaks."
	Once again the old dwarf nodded. Felix and Gotrek exchanged looks. It had been Faragrim who had told Gotrek about the troll-guarded treasure beneath the mountains.
	"Your expedition was accompanied by a young knight of my order, a companion of Faragrim in his adventuring days. His name was Raphael."
	"He was a true man and a foe of our enemies," said Belegar. "He went with Faragrim on his last expedition into the depths and never returned. When Faragrim refused to seek him I dispatched runners but they could not find his body."
	"It is good to know you honoured him although I am downcast to learn that the blade which he bore was lost. It was a weapon of power and of great importance to my order."
	"You are not the first who has come here to retrieve it," said the dwarf woman.
	Aldred smiled. "Nevertheless I have sworn a vow to return the sword, Karaghul, to the chapter house of my order. I have cause to believe I will succeed." Belegar raised an eyebrow.
	"Before setting out on my quest I fasted for two weeks and scourged my body with purgatives and the lash. On Sigmarzeit last I was favoured with a vision. My Lord appeared before me. He said he looked with favour on my mission and that the time was near for the enchanted blade to be drawn again."
	"Further - he told me that I would be aided by one of our ancient brethren. I interpret this as meaning a dwarf, for so are your people always referred to in the Unfinished Book."
	"I beseech you, noble Belegar, do not oppose my mission. My brother Raphael honoured the ancient vow of our faith, never to refuse aid to a dwarf, when he fell. It would be a mark of respect to allow me to recover his blade."
	"Well spoken, man," said Belegar. Felix could see he was moved, as dwarfs invariably were by talk of honour and ancient oaths. Still there was a hint of bright malice in Belegar's gaze when he spoke. "I grant your petition. May you have more luck than your predecessors."
	Aldred rose and bowed. "Could you provide us with a guide?"
	Once again Belegar laughed and there was a strange, wild quality to his mirth. He cackled nastily. "I am sure Gotrek Gurnisson would be prepared to aid a quest so similar to his own."
	Belegar rose from the throne and the robed woman moved to support him. He turned to hobble from the room. As he reached the rear exit of the chamber he turned and said: "You are dismissed!"
	From the window of the tower where the dwarfs had housed them Felix looked down at the cobbled street. Outside snow fell in feathery flakes. Behind him the others argued quietly.
	"I don't like it." Zauberlich said. "Who knows how vast an area lies below ground? We could search from now till the end of the world and not find the blade. I had thought the dwarfs guarded the blade."
	"We must trust to faith," Aldred replied, calmly and implacably. "Sigmar wishes the blade to be found. We must trust that he will guide our hands to it."
	An undertow of hysteria was evident in Zauberlich's voice. "Aldred, if Sigmar wished the blade returned why did he not place it in the hands of the three of your brethren who preceded us?"
	"Who am I to guess the Lord's motives? Perhaps the time was not right. Perhaps this is a test of our faith. I will not be found lacking.You do not have to accompany us if you do not wish."
	Felix noticed a cold green light in the distance. The sight of it filled him with dread. He beckoned for Jules to come over and take a look. By the time the Bretonnian arrived at the window there was nothing to be seen. The scout gave him a quizzical look. Embarrassed, Felix looked back at the discussion. Am I going mad, he wondered? He tried to dismiss the green light from his mind.
	"Herr Gurnisson, what do you think?" asked Zauberlich. He turned to beseech the Trollslayer.
	"I will be going down into the dark anyway. It does not bother me what you do. Settle your own quarrels."
	"We have already lost three-quarters of the people we set out with," said Zauberlich, glancing from Jules Gascoigne to Aldred. "What purpose would it serve to throw away our own lives?"
	"What purpose would it serve to give up, save to make our comrades' sacrifice meaningless?" replied the Templar. "If we give up now their deaths will be in vain. They believed that we should find Karaghul. They gave their lives willingly enough."
	The Templar's fanaticism made Felix uneasy. Aldred talked too casually of men laying down their lives. Yet he also had a calm certainty that gave his words compelling urgency. Felix knew warriors would follow such a man.
	"You took the same oath as everyone else, Johann. If you wish to foreswear yourself now so be it, but the consequences will be on your own eternal soul."
	Felix felt a wry sympathy for the mage. He himself had sworn to follow Gotrek while drunk, in a warm tavern in a civilized city, after the dwarf had saved his life. Peril had seemed remote then. He shook his head. It was easy to swear such oaths when you had no idea of the consequences. It was another to keep them when the path led to dismal places like Carag Eight Peaks.
	Felix heard approaching footsteps. There was a knock and the door creaked open to reveal the female dwarf who had stood beside Belegar in the throne room. "I've come to warn you," she said in her low, pleasant voice.
	"Warn us about what?" enquired Gotrek curtly.
	"There are terrible things loose in the depths. Why do you think we live in such fear?" she said.
	"I think you'd better come in," said the Trollslayer.
	"I am Magda Freyadotter. I keep the Book of Remembering at the temple of Valaya. I speak with the voice of Valaya so you will know what I say is truth."
	"Accepted," said Gotrek Gurnisson. "Speak truth then."
	"In the dark unquiet spirits walk." She paused and looked around at them. Her gaze rested on the Trollslayer and lingered.
	"When first we came here we numbered five hundred, with a few mannish allies. The only perils we faced were the orcs and their followers. We cleared this keep and parts of the upper city as a prelude to reclaiming our ancient mines."
	"We made forays into the depths, seeking the vaults of our ancestors, knowing that if we could find them word would spread among the kinsfolk and more would flock here."
	Felix understood the strategy. Word of a treasure find would lure more dwarfs here. He felt a little guilty. It had brought himself and Gotrek.
	"We sent expeditions into the depths in search of the old places. Things had changed from the ancient plans we memorized as children. Tunnels had collapsed, ways were blocked, foul new passages dug by orcs inter-connected with our own."
	"Did a dwarf called Faragrim lead any of these expeditions?" asked Gotrek.
	"Yes," replied Magda.
	Gotrek looked at Felix. "That much of what he claimed is true," said the Trollslayer.
	"Faragrim was bold and sought deeper and further than all others. What did he tell you?"
	Gotrek studied his feet. "That he had encountered the mightiest troll he had ever seen and fled."
	Dwarfs are not good at lying, thought Felix. It seemed impossible that the priestess could not tell he was hiding something. But Magda didn't appear to notice anything amiss.
	Felix thought back to the night back in Nuln, in the Eight Peaks tavern, when the awesomely drunken Faragrim had poured out his tale to Gotrek. The dwarfs had been so inebriated that they had even seemed to forget there was a human present and had talked excitedly in a mixture of Reikspiel and Khazalid. At the time Felix assumed the dwarfs were only attempting to outdo each other in telling tall tales. Now he wasn't sure.
	"So that is what frightened him - we thought it was the ghosts," said Magda. "One day he returned from the depths. His beard had turned pure white. He spoke no word but simply departed."
	"You spoke of terrors in the depths," interrupted Zauberlich.
	"Yes. Our patrols below soon spoke of encountering ghosts of ancient kin. The spirits howled and wailed and begged us to free them from the bondage of Chaos. Soon our early successes were reversed. What dwarf can bear the sight of kinsmen torn from the bosom of the ancestral spirits? Our forces lost heart. Prince Belegar led a mighty expedition to seek the source of evil. His force was destroyed by the lurkers in the depths. Only he and a few trusted retainers returned. They have never spoken of what they found. Most of our surviving folk departed to their homelands. Now barely a hundred of us are left to hold this keep."
	The colour drained from Gotrek's face. Felix had never seen the Trollslayer display such fear before. Gotrek could face any living creature boldly but this talk of ghosts had leeched away his courage. The worship of their ancestors must be very important to his people, thought Felix with sudden insight.
	"I have warned you," said the priestess. "Do you now still wish to go below?"
	Gotrek stared off into the fire. All eyes in the room were on him. Felix felt that if Gotrek abandoned his quest then even Aldred might give up. The Templar seemed convinced that the Trollslayer was the dwarf of his prophecy.
	Gotrek clutched his axe so tightly that his knuckles were white. He took a deep breath. He seemed to will himself to speak.
	"Man or spirit, alive or dead, I fear it not," he said quietly in a voice that was not convincing. "I will go below. There is a troll I have to meet."
	"Well spoken," said Magda. "I will lead you to the entrance of the realm below."
	Gotrek bowed. "It would be an honour."
	"Tomorrow then," she said and rose to go. Gotrek held the door for her. After she had departed he slumped into the chair. He laid down his axe and clutched at the armrests as if he feared he would fall over. He looked very afraid.
	A huge doorway gaped in the side of the mountain. Above it, rising from the rock, was a great window set in the side of the mountain. The window was roofed with red-slate tiles, many of which had fallen in. It was as if a keep had been built and then sunk beneath the earth so that only the tallest parts protruded above the ground.
	"This is the Silvergate," said Magda. "The Silverway runs to the Upper Granaries and the Long Stairs. I believe the Way is clear. After that, beware!"
	"Thank you," said Felix. Gotrek nodded to the priestess. Aldred, Jules and Zauberlich bowed. The men looked very sombre.
	They began to check their lanterns and the supply of oil. They had plenty of provisions. All their weapons were oiled and ready.
	Magda reached within the sleeves of her robe. She produced a tube of parchment and handed it to Gotrek. He unrolled it, gave it a quick glance and bowed from the waist until his crest touched the ground.
	"May Grungni, Grimniir and Valaya watch over you all," said Magda and made a peculiar sign of benediction over them.
	"The blessing of Sigmar upon you and your clan," replied Aldred Fellblade.
	"Let's go," said Gotrek Gurnisson. They hefted their gear and passed under the arch. Felix could see that it was marked with old dwarfish runes that time had yet to erode.
	As they passed below they were cast into shadow and chill. Felix could not repress a shiver.
	Light from the great window illumined the way down into the gloom. Felix marvelled at the precision of dwarfish engineering. At the brow of the slope he turned and looked back. The priestess and her escort stood there. He waved to her and she raised an arm in farewell. Then they began the downward way and the lands above were hidden from view. Felix wondered if any of them would ever see daylight again.
	"What did the priestess give you, Herr Gurnisson?" asked Johann Zauberlich. Gotrek thrust the document into the magician's hand.
	"It's a map of the city copied from the mastermap in the temple of Valaya the Rememberer. It covers all the ground that Prince Belegar's expeditions explored."
	By the light of the glowing crystals overhead the mage inspected it, then scratched his head. Felix looked over his shoulder and saw only a scrawl of tiny runes connected with lines in different coloured ink. Some of the lines were thick, others were thin and some were dotted.
	"It's like no map I've ever seen," said the mage. "I can't make head nor tail of it."
	Gotrek's lips curled into a sneer. "I would be surprised if you could. It's written in the rune-code of the Engineers' Guild."
	"We are in your hands and Sigmar's, Herr Gurnisson. Lead on," said the Templar.
	Felix tried to count the number of steps he took but gave up at eight hundred and sixty two. He noticed the passages leading of the Silverway and began to have some idea of the scale of the dwarfish city.
	It was like the floating mountains of ice mariners reported in the Sea of Claws. Nine-tenths of it was below the surface. The scale overwhelmed any of the works of man Felix had ever seen. It was a humbling experience.
	The way passed many openings in the wall. Some were still partially bricked up. The brickwork looked recent. Something had chipped through it using very crude tools. There was a smell of rot in the air.
	"Grain silos," explained Gotrek. "Used to feed the city in winter. Looks like gobbos have been at Belegar's stores though."
	"If there are any goblins near, they will soon taste my steel," said Aldred Fellblade.
	Jules and Felix exchanged worried looks. They were not as keen as the Templar and the Trollslayer to get to grips with whatever dwelled down here.
	Felix lost track of time but he guessed it was half an hour before they left the Silverway and entered a hallway as large as the Koenigspark in Altdorf. It was lit by great slots in the ceiling. Motes of dust danced in a dozen columns of light taller than the towers of Nuln. The sound of their steps echoed, disturbing strange shadowy, fluttering things that lurked by the ceiling.
	"The Square of Merscha," said Gotrek, in a voice that held a note of wonder. He gazed into the hall with a strange mixture of hatred and pride. "Where Queen Hilga's personal troops turned and stood off an army of goblins a hundred times their number. They gave the Queen and many of the citizens time to escape. Never did I expect to lay eyes on it. Walk carefully. Every stone has been sanctified with the blood of heroes."
	Felix looked at the Trollslayer. He saw a new person. Since they had entered the city Gotrek had changed. He stood taller. He no longer cast furtive looks around and muttered to himself. For the first time since Felix had met him the dwarf seemed at ease. It's as if he's come home, thought Felix.
	Now it's we men who are out of place, he realized, suddenly aware of the immense weight of stone that lay between him and the sun. He had to fight against the fear that the whole mountain, held in place only by the fragile craft of those ancient dwarfs, would fall in on him, burying him forever. He sensed the closeness of the dark, of the old places beneath the mountains that had never known daylight. The seeds of terror were planted in his heart.
	He looked out across a square larger than any structure he had ever known and he knew that he could not cross it. Absurdly, far below the surface of the earth, he began to feel agoraphobic. He did not want to pass below that vaulted ceiling for fear that the artificial sky would fall. He felt dizzy and his breathing came in ragged gasps.
	A reassuring hand fell on his shoulder. Felix looked down to see that Gotrek stood by him. Slowly the urge to run back up the Silverway passed and he felt some semblance of calm return. He looked back out over the square of Merscha, overcome with awe.
	"Truly, yours are a mighty people, Gotrek Gurnisson," he said.
	Gotrek looked up at him and there was sadness in his eyes. "Aye, manling, that we were, but the craft which created this hall is beyond us now, We no longer have the number of masons needed to build it."
	Gotrek turned and looked back into the hall then, he shook his head. "Ach, manling, you have some inkling of how far we have fallen. The days of our glory are behind us. Once we created all of this. Now we huddle in a few shrunken cities and wait for the end of the world. The day of the dwarf has gone, never to return. We crawl like maggots through the work of elder days and the glory of what once was ours mocks us."
	He gestured out at the hall with his axe, as if he wished he could demolish it with one blow.
	"This is what we must measure ourselves against!" he bellowed. The startled men looked at him. The echoes mocked him. Somewhere among them Felix Jaegar thought he heard the sounds of furtive movement. When he looked towards the noise he saw winking amber eyes receding slowly into the dark.
	As they progressed, the stone of the undercity took on a peculiar greenish tinge. They moved away from the lit hall into shadowy gloom, faintly illuminated by dim, flickering glowjewels. Occasionally Felix heard a tapping sound. Gotrek stopped and placed a hand against the wall. Out of curiosity Felix did the same. He felt a small distant vibration pass through the stone.
	Gotrek glanced up at him. "Gobbo wall-drumming," he said. "They know we're here. Best speed our pace. It'll confuse any scouts."
	Felix nodded. The walls glittered like jade. He could see fat red-eyed rats move away from the light. Their hides were pure black. Gotrek cursed and stamped at the nearest one but it evaded him.
	He shook his head. "Even here, so close to the surface, we see the taint of Chaos. It must be worse down below."
	They came to a stairway running down into the dark. Great columns had fallen away. Piles of masonry lay in a heap. The stair itself seemed crumbled. They disturbed a nest of flitterwings. The small bats took off like scraps of shadow and fluttered about. Uneasily Felix wondered how safe the stairs were.
	They descended through galleries marked with the signs of orcish despoliation. Rats scuttled ahead of them from nests under broken stonework.
	Gotrek gestured to halt and stood sniffing the air. From behind them Felix thought he heard the sound of footfalls further up the stair.
	"I smell gobbos," said the Trollslayer.
	"They are behind us, I think," said Jules.
	"All around us," said Gotrek. "This place has been used as an orc road for many years."
	"What shall we do?" asked Felix, exchanging worried looks with Zauberlich.
	"Push on," said Gotrek, consulting the map. "We're going the way we want to anyway."
	Felix glanced back. He suspected they were being herded into a trap. Things look bad, he thought. Our way back to the surface has been cut off already unless Gotrek knows another route.
	The Trollslayer's expression assured him that Gotrek was giving no thought to such matters. The dwarf glanced around worriedly as if expecting to see a ghost.
	Their pursuers' footsteps came ever closer. From ahead, echoing through the galleries, they heard a bellow that was deeper and louder than any orc's.
	"What was that?" asked Zauberlich.
	"Something big," said Aldred. Gotrek ran his thumb along the blade of his axe till a jewel of blood glistened on its blade.
	"Good," he said.
	"It must be close," said Felix nervously, wondering if his face was as ashen as the magician's and the scout's.
	"Hard to say," said Gotrek. "These tunnels distort sound. Amplify it too. It could be miles away."
	The roar came again and there was the sound of running feet, as if goblins scuttled to obey an order.
	"It's closer this time," said Felix.
	"Calm yourself, manling. As I said, it's probably miles away."
	It stood waiting in the next hall, near the foot of the long stairway. They passed under an archway carved with skeletal daemon's heads and saw it; a huge ogre, half again as tall as and four times the bulk of Aldred. A crest of hair emerged from its scaly scalp. Like Gotrek's crest, it was dyed. Unlike Gotrek's, it was patterned in alternating black and white bands. A huge spiked armguard whose fist was a long wicked scythe covered its right arm. An enormous spiked ball and chain dangled from its left hand. It looked as though it could demolish a castle wall.
	The creature grinned, revealing spiked metal teeth. Behind it hunched a company of goblins, green skins glistening. They clutched metal shields emblazoned with the emblem of the skull. Scabs and boils and pock marks marked their leering, ugly faces. Some wore spiked collars round their necks. Some had metal rings pinching the flesh of their torsos. Their eyes were red and without pupil. Felix wondered if this was another sign of the taint of Chaos.
	He glanced around. To his right was tumbled masonry. It looked as if old dwarfish stonework had been brought down and cleared to make way for newer and cruder carvings. Iron chains were set in the wall near him. To the left was a great chimney carved so that the fireplace was the maw of a gaping daemonic head. Brownish blood stained the stone. Have we stumbled into some goblin temple? wondered Felix. Just what we need, a man-hungry ogre and a horde of goblin fanatics. Well, he consoled himself, at least things can't get any worse.
	He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to look back up the stairs. Down it poured another company of goblins led by a burly orc. In its left hand it clutched a scimitar and in its right it held a standard whose banner depicted a stylised representation of the tusked maw of the cursed moon, Morrslieb. Stuck on the top of the standard was an embalmed human head. Behind the bearer came more goblins armed with maces and spears and axes.
	Felix looked at Jules. The Bretonnian gave a devil-may-care shrug. What a terrible place to die, thought Felix. For a long moment the three groups exchanged glares. There was a brief peaceful silence.
	"For Sigmar!" cried Aldred, raising his great sword high and charging down the stairs with surprising nimbleness for a man garbed in plate.
	"Tanugh Aruk!" bellowed Gotrek, as he followed. Overhead the glowjewels seemed to glow briefly brighter. "Kill the goblin-scum!"
	Felix brought his blade to the guard position. Beside him Jules Gascoigne stood at the ready. The standard bearer glared at them but made no move to come closer. Felix was reluctant to attack the goblins up the stair. It was a standoff.
	Behind him Felix heard the clash of weapons and the screaming of battle-cries. The foul orc-reek was strong in his nostrils. Iron-shod feet rang on the stairs behind him. He whirled just in time to parry a mace swung with considerable force by a greenskin warrior. The force of the impact jarred up his arm.
	He gritted his teeth and stabbed out. His blade cut a glittering arc through the gloom. The goblin skipped back and Felix almost overbalanced. He moved as rapidly as he could down the stairs, hampered by the uncertain footing.
	"Jules, hold the stair!" he shouted.
	"Anything for a friend."
	Felix pushed on after the goblin. He had some trouble pursuing his nimble foe over the broken ground. The gobbo stuck out its tongue and yelled tauntingly. Overcome by stinging anger, Felix rushed forward and tripped. He fell to his knees and rolled, feeling pain where he had skinned flesh from his knees. Something scurried over him. Tiny claws scratched him. I've disturbed a nest of rats, he thought. For a moment he was disoriented. As he struggled to his feet he caught sight of the tableau of the battle.
	Gotrek chopped into the chest of his foe. Mail exploded outward from the goblin's breast where the huge axe impacted. Aldred Fellblade charged within the sweep of the ogre's huge wrecking ball and stabbed upward through the creature's stomach. Felix saw his blade protruding from the ogre's back. Goblins swept past Felix to get at the dwarf, their ancient foe. Just out of reach of the struggle Johann Zauberlich produced a scroll and chanted a spell. A ball of fire appeared in his left hand. Black rats swarmed everywhere. Shadowy flitterwings swooped agitatedly.
	Felix fought for balance. His gaze shifted to Jules Gascoigne on the stair, bravely standing off a number of heavily armed foes. He had already killed one but more entered behind another standard bearer.
	Pain surged through Felix as a club smashed into his shoulder. Flashing silver stars filled his field of vision. He fell on his face, letting go of his sword. Above him stood the goblin, its club raised, a leer of triumph on its face. Move, damn you, Felix told his protesting limbs as the club whistled down. It loomed like the trunk of a falling tree, moving with painful slowness to the man's panic-honed senses.
	At the last moment Felix rolled to one side and the club hit rock with a loud crack. Felix twisted and lashed out with one foot, sending the goblin flying. Desperately Felix fumbled for his sword, feeling huge relief as his fingers closed over its hilt.
	He dived forward, impaling the goblin before it could rise. The thing cursed as it died. Suddenly a titanic flash blinded Felix. He reeled back, covering his eyes as an inferno erupted before him. Hot air washed over his face. The air stank of sulphur. I'm dead, dead and in hell, he thought. Then understanding filled his mind. Zauberlich had unleashed his fireball.
	He looked around. Gotrek and Aldred were clearing a path through the demoralized goblins. Behind them rushed the scout and the wizard. Jules grabbed Felix by the arm.
	"Come on," he yelled. "We've got to get out while they're confused."
	They ran on down the long corridor. From behind them came the sounds of conflict.
	"What's happening back there?" he yelled.
	"Different gobbo tribes," cackled Gotrek. "With any luck they'll slit each others throats while they fight to see who gets to eat us."
	Felix stared down into the chasm. Stars glittered in its depths. Aldred and Gotrek glanced back down the corridor. Jules prowled out onto the corroded metal bridge. Zauberlich leaned against a cast-iron gargoyle, panting heavily.
	"I fear I was not intended for the adventurous life," he gasped. "My studies did not prepare me for all this strenuous exercise."
	Felix smiled. The magician reminded him of his old professors. The only conflicts they ever fought were struggles over the correct interpretation of the finer points of classical poetry. He was surprised and ashamed to find himself so contemptous of those old men. Once it had been his ambition to become just like them. Had the adventuring life changed him so much?
	Zauberlich was inspecting the gargoyle curiously. Felix revised his opinion of the wizard. He only superficially resembled those elderly academics. None of them would have survived the road to Carag Eight Peaks. The fact Zauberlich's sorcery was so adroit spoke volumes about the man's determination and intelligence. Magic was no art for a weakling or a coward. It held its own hidden perils. Curiosity overcame Felix. He wanted to ask the mage how he had become involved with the Templar.
	"I think we must have lost the goblins," shouted Aldred. He and Gotrek clumped towards the others. The questions Felix had been about to ask the sorcerer died on his lips. As they crossed the bridge Felix sensed he would never get another chance to ask them.
	They gazed down the long dark corridor. For the first time the light from the glowjewels had failed. Felix had grown so accustomed to the dim greenish light that its sudden failure shocked him. It felt as if the sun had gone in the middle of the day. Gotrek pushed on into the dark, seemingly oblivious to the lack of light. Felix wondered at how well the dwarf could see.
	"Best break out the lanterns," said Gotrek, shaking his head. "The lights have been vandalized. Damn gobbos. Those jewels should have glowed forever but they just couldn't leave them alone. They can never be replaced now, the art has been lost."
	Jules prepared a lantern. Zauberlich lit it with a word. Felix watched them, feeling redundant until he heard Gotrek moan behind him. Felix turned to look.
	Far down the corridor there was a faint greenishly glowing figure. It was an old bearded dwarf. Light poured from it and through it. It looked transparent, as tangible as a soap bubble. The ghostly figure wailed, a thin, reedy sound, and advanced towards Gotrek, arms outstretched. The Trollslayer stood transfixed. Terror overwhelmed Felix. He recognized the quality of the light. He had seen it before, on the mountainside and in the city above.
	"Sigmar protect us," muttered Aldred. Felix heard the Templar's blade ring as he pulled it from the scabbard.
	Felix felt his hair stir as the ancient dwarf advanced. The air seemed cold. His flesh tingled. The figure's lips moved and Felix thought he heard a gibbering faraway voice. Gotrek stirred and moved forward, axe held up as if to ward off a blow.
	The ghost redoubled its frantic pleas. Gotrek shook his head as if he did not understand. The ghost hurried to meet him, looking over its shoulder as if pursued by a distant, invisible enemy.
	Horror filled Felix. The ghost was falling apart. It was like a mist before a strong wind, parts of it just peeled away and vanished. Before Gotrek could reach it, it vanished entirely. As it went Felix heard a distant, despairing wail. It was the cry of a damned soul, vanishing into hell.
	As Gotrek returned Felix saw the stunned look on his face. The Trollslayer looked appalled and bewildered. A tear gleamed beneath his single eye.
	They hurried down the darkened corridor. Even after they reached an area where the glowjewels gleamed no-one seemed in a hurry to extinguish the lantern. For long hours thereafter the Trollslayer never said a word.
	Felix was tempted to drink from a spring flowing into the ancient carved trough. He bent over the greenly glowing water when he felt strong hands knot his hair and pull him back.
	"Are you mad, manling? Can you not see the water is tainted?" Felix was about to object when Zauberlich looked down into the water and inspected the greenish glowing flecks.
	"Warpstone?" he said, in a surprised tone. Felix felt his blood run cold. All he had ever heard about the dread substance was that it was the pure essence of Chaos sought after by evil alchemists in certain grisly tales.
	"What did you say, mage?" asked Gotrek curtly.
	"I think this could be warpstone. It has the greenish luminescence that certain scholarly tomes attribute to that unpleasant substance. If there is even a trace of warpstone in the water that might account for the high level of mutation hereabouts."
	"There are old tales of the Skaven poisoning the wells," said Gotrek. "Would even they be so foul as to do it with warpstone?"
	"I have heard it said that the Skaven subsist on warpstone. Perhaps this served a dual purpose. It gave them sustenance and made the wells unusable by their foes."
	"You seem very knowledgable in the ways of Chaos, Herr Zauberlich," said Felix suspiciously.
	"The Doctor and I have hunted our share of witches," said Aldred Feilblade. "It's a task that obliges you to learn much strange lore. Are you implying any companion of mine could be tainted by such foulness as trafficking with the Ruinous Powers?"
	Felix shook his head. He had no wish to cross a warrior as deadly as the Templar. "My apologies for my unjust suspicions."
	Gotrek guffawed. "No need to apologize. Eternal vigilance is necessary in all foes of the dark."
	Aldred nodded in agreement. It seemed the Trollslayer had found a kindred spirit.
	"We had best move on." said Jules Gascoigne, looking nervously back the way they had come.
	"Best stick to drinking what we brought with us, manling," said Gotrek as they moved off.
	"What is this stuff?" asked Felix nervously. His question echoed off into the distance. Jules shone lantern light into the dark caverns. Giant, misshapen fungi cast long shadows against the white mould-covered walls. Spores drifted in the lantern's beam.
	"Once we cultivated mushrooms for food," muttered Gotrek. "Now it looks like another victim of mutation."
	The Trollslayer marched into the room. His boots left prints in the sodden carpet of mould. Somewhere in the distance Felix thought he heard running water.
	Foot-long splinters of whiteness detached themselves from the walls, enlarging as they came. They hurtled towards the startled adventurers. Gotrek chopped into one with his axe. It gave with a squishing sound. More and more splinters left the wall like a blizzard of giant snowflakes. Felix found himself surrounded by soft bloated bodies and fluttering wings.
	"Moths," shouted Zauberlich. "They're moths. They're trying to get at the light. Kill it."
	It went dark. Felix had a last vision of Gotrek, his body covered in the giant insects, then he stood within a whirling snowstorm of wingbeats. His flesh crawling at the moths' touch. Then all was silence, "Back out," Gotrek whispered, revulsion showing in every syllable. "We'll find another way."
	Felix paused to look back down the long hallway, wishing that the glowjewels were brighter. He was convinced he had heard something. He reached out and touched the smooth cold stone of the wall. Faint vibration thrummed through it. Wall-drumming.
	He strained his eyes. In the distance he could make out vague shapes. One carried a huge banner with what seemed to be a human head on top. He pulled his sword from its scabbard.
	"Looks like they found us again," he said, There was no reply. The others had disappeared round the corner. Felix realized that they had kept marching when he paused. He ran to catch up.
	Filled with dread, Felix opened one eye. He emerged from slumber. It was Gotrek's watch but he thought he heard eerie voices. He looked around the small chamber and his hair stood on end. His heartbeat sounded loud and fast in his ears and he thought that he was going to faint dead away. All power had fled from his limbs.
	The strange green glow lit the area. It washed over the Trollslayer's haggard face, making him look like some ghastly zombie. Gotrek's shadow loomed huge and menacing on the wall. The entity from which the light emerged was on its knees in front of the Trollslayer, arms outstretched beseechingly. It was the ghost of some ancient dwarfish woman.
	It was insubstantial and yet it had the presence of ages, as if it were a manifestation of the elder times made real. Its garb was regal and the face had once possessed authority. Its cheeks seemed sunken and the flesh seemed to have sloughed away and was pock-marked, as if riddled with maggots. The eyes that lurked under cave-like brows were pools of shadow in which witch-lights burned. It was as if the ghost were being eaten away by some unworldly disease, a cancer of the spirit.
	The aspect of the thing filled Felix with terror, and its suffering only intensified his awful fear. It hinted that there were things waiting beyond the grave from which even death was not an escape, powers which could seize a spirit and torment it. Felix had always been afraid of death but now he was aware that there were worse things. He felt himself on the edge of sanity, hoping for the release from this terrible knowledge that madness might bring.
	Nearby Jules Gascoigne whimpered like a child enmeshed in a nightmare. Felix tried to avert his eyes from the scene being played out before him but could not; a compulsion lay on him. He was horribly fascinated by the confrontation.
	Gotrek raised his axe and put it between him and the troubled spirit. Was it his imagination, Felix wondered, or did the runes that inlaid the huge blade glow with internal fire?
	"Begone, abomination," rasped the Trollslayer in a voice barely above a whisper. "Depart, I am yet among the living."
	The thing laughed. Felix realized that it made no sound. He heard its voice within his head.
	"Aid us, Gotrek Gurnisson. Free us. Our tombs are desecrated and a terrible warping power rests within our halls." The spirit wavered and seemed about to dissipate like mist. With a visible effort it maintained its form.
	Gotrek tried to speak but could not. The great muscles in his neck stood out, a vein throbbed at his temple.
	"We have committed no crime," said the spirit in a voice that held ages of suffering and loneliness. "We had departed to join our ancestral spirits when we were brought back by the desecration of our resting place. We were wrenched from eternal peace."
	"How can this be?" asked Gotrek, in a voice that held both wonder and terror. "What can tear a dwarf from the bosom of the ancestors?"
	"What else has the strength to upset the order of the universe, Trollslayer? What else but Chaos?"
	"I am but a single warrior. I cannot stand against the Old Dark Powers."
	"No need. Cleanse our tomb of that which lies there and we will be free. Will you do this, Gotrek, son of Gurni? If you do not we shall not be able to rejoin our kin. We will gutter and vanish like candleflames in a storm. Even now we fade. Only a few of us are left."
	Gotrek looked at the anguished spirit. Felix saw reverence and pity flicker across his face. "If it is within my power, I will free you."
	A smile passed across the spirit's ravaged face. "Others we have asked, including our descendant Belegar. They were too fearful to aid us. In you I find no flaw."
	Gotrek bowed and the spirit reached out a glowing hand and touched his brow. It seemed to Felix as if sudden insight flooded into the Trollslayer. The ghost dwindled and faded as if receding to a vast distance. Soon it was gone.
	Felix looked around at the others. They were all awake and gazing at the dwarf in astonishment. Aldred looked at the Trollslayer with something akin to reverence. Gotrek hefted his axe.
	"We have work to do," he said in a voice like stone grinding against stone.
	Like a man in a trance, Gotrek Gurnisson led them down the long corridors in the depths below the old city. They passed into a area of wide, low tunnels lined by defaced statues.
	"Greenskins have been here," Felix observed to Jules Gascoigne.
	"Not recently, my friend. Those statues were not broken recently. See the lichen growing on the breaks. I like not the way it glows."
	"There is something evil about this place. I can sense it," said Zauberlich, tugging at the sleeve of his robe and peering around nervously. "There is an oppressive presence in the air."
	Felix wondered whether he could sense it too or whether he was simply receptive to his companion's forebodings. They turned a corner and moved along a way lined by mighty arches. Strange runic patterns were carved between each archway.
	"I hope your friend is not leading us into some trap laid by the Dark Powers," whispered the magician quietly. Felix shook his head. He was convinced of the spirit's sincerity. But then again, he thought, what do I know of such things? He was so outwith the realms of his normal experience that all he could do was trust to the flow of events. He gave a fatalistic shrug. Things were beyond his control.
	"I hate to bother you, but our pursuers have returned," said Jules. "Why have they not attacked? Are they afraid of this area?"
	Felix looked back towards the redly glowing eyes of the greenskin company. He made out the hideous standard.
	"Whatever they were afraid of, they seem to have plucked up courage now."
	"Maybe they've been herding us here for sacrifice," said Zauberlich.
	"Look on the bright side," said the scout.
	Eventually they passed over another chasm-bridge and into a long corridor lined with decorative arches. Gotrek halted at a huge open archway. He shook his head like a man waking up from a dream.
	Felix studied the arch. He saw a great groove made for a barrier to slide along. On closer reflection Felix thought that if the opening were closed it would be invisible, blending into the pattern of the way along which they passed. Felix lit his lantern, driving back the shadowy darkness.
	Beyond the opening lay an enormous vault, lined on either side with great sarcophagi carved to resemble the figures of sleeping dwarfs of noble aspect. To the right were males, to the left females. Some of the tops of the stone coffins had been removed. In the centre of the chamber was a huge pile of gold and old banners mingled with yellowing, cracked bones. From the middle of the heap protruded the hilt of a sword, carved in the shape of a dragon.
	Felix was reminded of the cairn they had built for Aldred's followers along the road to the city. A hideous stench came through the arch and made Felix want to gag.
	"Look at all that gold," said the Bretonnian. "Why has no greenskin taken it?"
	"Something protects it," said Felix. A question crossed his mind. "Gotrek, this is one of the hidden tombs of your people you spoke of, isn't it?"
	The dwarf nodded.
	"Why is it open? Surely it would have been sealed?"
	Gotrek scratched his head and stood deep in thought for a moment. "Faragrim opened it," he said angrily. "He was once an engineer. He would know the rune-codes. Ghosts only started appearing after he left the city. He abandoned the tomb to despoliation. He knew what would happen."
	Felix agreed. The prospector was greedy and would certainly have ransacked the tomb if he could. He had found the lost horde of Carag Eight Peaks. If that was true, then was the other part of his story true as well? Had he fled from the troll? Did he leave the Templar Raphael to fight the monster alone?
	While they talked Aldred entered the tomb and walked over to the treasure heap. He turned and Felix saw the look of triumph on the Templar's lean fanatic face. No, get out, Felix wanted to shout.
	"I have found it," he cried. "The lost blade Karaghul. I have found it! Sigmar be praised!"
	From behind the heap of treasure a huge horn-headed shadow loomed, twice as tall as Aldred, broader than it was tall. Before Felix had time to shout a warning, it tore off the Templar's head with one sweep of a mighty claw. Gore spurted. The thing lurched forward, pushing through the mound of treasure with irresistible power.
	Felix had heard tales of trolls, and perhaps once this had been one. Now it was hideously changed. It had a gnarly hide covered in huge, dripping tumours and three enormously muscular arms, one of which terminated in a pincer claw. Growing from its left shoulder, like some obscene fruit, was a small babyish head which glared at them with wise malign eyes. It chittered horridly in a language that Felix could not recognize. Pus dribbled down its chest from a huge leech mouth set below its neck.
	The bestial head roared and the echoes reverberated through the long hall. Felix saw an amulet of glowing greenish-black stone hanging from a chain around its neck. Warpstone, he thought, placed there deliberately.
	He did not blame Faragrim for running. Or Belegar. He stood paralyzed by fear and indecision. From beside him he heard the sound of Zauberlich being sick. He knew warpstone had created this thing. He thought of what Gotrek had said about the long-ago war beneath the mountains.
	Someone had been so insane as to chain warpstone to the troll, to deliberately induce mutation. Perhaps it was the rat-men Skaven that Gotrek had mentioned. The troll had been down here since the war, a festering abomination changing and growing far from the light of day. Perhaps it was the desecration of their tombs by this warpstone-spawned monstrosity which had caused the dwarfish ghosts to walk? Or perhaps it was the presence here of the warpstone, of pure undiluted Chaos.
	The thoughts reverberated through his mind as the roar of the mad thing echoed through the vault. He stood unable to move, transfixed by horror, as the thing came ever closer. Its stench filled his nostrils. He heard the hideous sucking of its leech mouth. It loomed out of the gloom, its pain-racked, bestial face hellishly underlit by its glowing amulet.
	The troll was going to reach him and slay him and he could not make himself do anything about it. He would welcome death, having confronted this manifestation of the insanity of the universe.
	Gotrek Gurnisson leapt forward between him and the monster, hunched in his fighting crouch. His long shadow swept out behind him in the green light so that he stood at the head of a pool of darkness, axe held high, runes shimmering with witchfire.
	The Chaos-troll halted and peered down at him, as if astonished by the temerity of this small creature. Gotrek glared up at it and spat.
	"Time to die, troll," he said and lashed out with his axe, opening up a terrible wound in its chest. The creature continued to stand there, studying the wound in fascination. Gotrek struck again at its ankle, attempting to hamstring it. Once again he drew green blood. The creature did not fall.
	With blinding speed its huge pincer descended, clicking shut. It would have snipped off the Trollslayer's head if he had not ducked. The troll bellowed angrily and lashed out with a taloned hand. Somehow Gotrek managed to deflect it with a sweep of his axe. He avoided the hail of blows that rained down on him.
	The Trollslayer and the troll circled warily, each looking for an opening. Felix noted to his horror that the wounds Gotrek had inflicted were knitting together. As they did so they made a sound like slobbering mouths closing.
	Jules Gascoigne rushed forward and stabbed the troll with his sword. The blade pierced the creature's leg and remained there. As the Bretonnian struggled to pull it out, the monster hit him with a back-handed sweep that sent him flying. Felix heard ribs break and the scout's head hit the wall with a terrible crack. Jules lay still in a spreading pool of his own blood.
	While the creature was distracted Gotrek leapt in and struck it a glancing blow to the shoulder. He sheared off the babyish head. It rolled over to near Felix's feet and lay screaming. Felix managed to put down the lantern, draw his sword and bring the blade down, chopping the head in two. It began to rejoin. He continued to hack until his sword was notched, blunted then broken from hitting the stone floor. He still could not kill the thing.
	"Stand back," he heard Zauberlich say. He leapt to one side. The air suddenly blazed. It stank of sulphur and burned meat. The baby head was silent and did not heal.
	As if sensing a new threat, the troll moved past Gotrek and grabbed the mage in its giant pincer. Felix saw the look of terror on Zauberlich's face as he was raised on high. Zauberlich struggled to cast a spell. A fireball erupted, and the shadows fled briefly. The monster screamed. With a reflexive action it closed the claw, chopping the mage in two.
	The wizard fell to the ground, clothes blazing. Black despair overwhelmed Felix. Zauberlich could have hurt the thing, burned it with purifying fire. Now he was dead. Gotrek could only hack futilely at the troll but its Chaos-enhanced powers of healing made it all but invulnerable. They were doomed.
	Felix's shoulders slumped. There was nothing he could do. The others had died in vain. Their quest had failed. The spirits of the dwarfish rulers would continue to wander in torment. It was all futile.
	He looked at Gotrek's sweating face. Soon the Trollslayer would tire and be unable to dodge the creature's blows. The dwarf knew this too but he did not give up. Renewed determination filled Felix. I will not give up either. He looked over at the burning body of the magician.
	The fire had become more intense, more so than if simply the man's clothes were burning. Why was that, Felix wondered?
	Realization dawned. The mage had been carrying spare flasks of lantern-oil in his coat. Swiftly Felix stripped off his pack and fumbled for an oil-flask.
	"Keep it busy!" he yelled to Gotrek, unstoppering the flask. Gotrek uttered a dwarfish curse. Felix flicked the flask at the thing, showering it with oil. The thing ignored him as it sought to pin down Gotrek. The dwarf redoubled his efforts, chopped away like a madman. Felix emptied a second flask over it and then a third, always keeping to the monster's blind side.
	"Whatever you're going to do manling, do it quickly!" yelled the Trollslayer.
	Felix ran over and picked up his lantern. Sigmar, guide my hand, he prayed as he threw the lamp at the creature. The lantern impacted on its back, shattering and spreading burning oil. It ignited the fuel Felix had already dowsed the creature in.
	The troll screamed shrilly. It reeled back. Now, when Gotrek's axe fell, the wounds did not heal. The dwarf drove the blazing troll back to the pile of gold. It stumbled and fell.
	Gotrek raised his axe. "In the name of my ancestors," said the trollslayer. "Die!"
	His axe came down like a thunderbolt, severing the creature's daemonic head. The troll died.
	Gingerly Gotrek picked up the warpstone amulet with the broken shard of Felix's sword. Holding the thing at arm's length, he took it outside to throw into the abyss.
	Felix sat, drained of all emotion, on top of one of the dwarfish sarcophagi. Once more it comes to this, he thought, sitting among ruin and corpses after terrible conflict.
	He heard Gotrek's running footsteps coming closer. Panting, the dwarf entered the chamber.
	"The gobbos come, manling," he said.
	"How many?" Felix asked.
	Gotrek shook his head tiredly. "Too many. At least I have disposed of that tainted thing. I can die happy here amid the tombs of my ancestors."
	Felix went over and picked up the dragon-hilted sword. "I would have liked to have returned this to Aldred's people," he said. "It would give some meaning to all this death."
	Gotrek shrugged. He glanced to the door. The archway was filled with green-skinned marauders, advancing behind their grinning moon banners. Felix slid the Sigmarian sword smoothly from its sheath. A thrilling musical note sang out. The runes along its blade blazed brightly. For a second the goblins hesitated.
	Gotrek looked over at Felix and grinned, revealing his missing teeth. "This is going to be a truly heroic death, manling. My only regret is that no-one will ever hear of it."
	Felix looked back at the oncoming horde, positioned himself so that his back was to a sarcophagus. "You don't know how sorry I am about that," he said grimly, making a few trial swipes with the blade. It felt good, light and well-balanced, as if made for his hand. He was surprised to find he was no longer afraid. He had gone beyond fear.
	The standard bearer halted and turned to harangue his troops. None of them seemed to be anxious to be the first to meet the Trollslayer's axe or the glowing runesword.
	"Get on with it!" bellowed Gotrek. "My axe thirsts."
	The goblins roared. The leader turned and gestured for them to advance. They surged forwards as irresistibly as the tide. This is it, thought Felix, steeling himself, preparing to lash out, to take as many foes as he could into death with him.
	"Goodbye, Gotrek," he said and stopped. The goblins had halted and stood, looking panic-stricken. What's going on? Felix wondered. Cold green light streamed over his shoulders. He looked back and saw ranks of regal dwarfish spirits. They seemed fierce and terrible.
	The standard bearer tried to rally his troops but the ghostly dwarfs reached him and touched his heart. His face drained of colour, and he fell, clutching his breast. The spirits surged into the goblins. Spectral axes flickered. Greenskin warriors fell, no mark upon their bodies. A hideous keening filled the air, a thin reedy imitation of dwarven war-cries. The remaining tribesmen turned and fled. The ghostly warriors pursued.
	Felix and Gotrek stood in the empty vault, surrounded by the towering sarcophagi. Slowly the air in front of them coalesced. Tendrils of greenish light drifted back through the entrance, took dwarfish shape. The spirits looked different. The ghost who had spoken to Gotrek earlier stood there. She looked different, as if a terrible burden had been lifted from her. She looked at Gotrek.
	"The ancient enemies are gone. We could not leave them to despoil our tombs now that you have cleansed them. We are in your debt."
	"You have robbed me of a mighty death," said Gotrek sourly.
	"It was not your destiny to fall here this day. Your doom is far greater and its time is approaching."
	Gotrek looked quizzically at the ancient queen.
	"I may say no more. Farewell, Gotrek, son of Gurni. We wish you well. You shall be remembered."
	The ghosts seemed to coalesce into one cold green flame that glowed like a star in the darkness. The light changed from green to warm gold and then became brighter than the sun. Felix averted his eyes and still was dazzled. When his sight returned he looked upon the tombs. The place was empty except for himself and Gotrek. The dwarf frowned thoughtfully. For a moment a strange expression gleamed in his one good eye, then he turned and looked upon the treasure.
	Felix could almost read his mind. He was considering taking the wealth, desecrating the tomb himself. Felix held his breath. After long minutes, Gotrek shrugged.
	"What about the others? Shouldn't we lay them to rest?" asked Felix.
	"Leave them," said Gotrek. "They lie among the mighty. Their bodies are safe."
	They went through the arch, and Gotrek touched the runes according to the ancient pattern. The tomb was sealed. Then they made their way up through the old darkness towards the light of day.