Chapter 14
— How wonderful it is… — Javier said, squinting his eyes against the sunlight.
Tears ran down the cheeks of many people, mixing with the dirt. Some could barely look at the light source they had lost so long ago, even though it was now evening.
I myself thoroughly enjoyed exposing my face to the faint breeze. The air felt dizzyingly fresh. Each breath was like an exquisite delicacy after a long journey through the dungeons. It was even difficult for me to say how long we had spent in the darkness. Two weeks? Three? It is hard to keep track of time in this world without the sun and stars overhead.
After the encounter with the Goblins, we reached the surface practically without incident, save for a pair of Squigs that leaped out at us from a side passage in the dark. They nearly tore one of the women to shreds, but the monsters were skewered on spears just in time.
Now, fed and practically content with life, we emerged from the dungeons onto a forest trail. I highly doubted that humans frequently walked here. It was more likely trampled down by the subterranean Goblins. The surroundings were desolate, but Erik reassured us:
— Blackfire Pass is only three or four days away from here. Take heart, my friends. Soon you will see your homelands.
Joyful exclamations and prayers to Sigmar swept through the crowd. Then Adora—one of the self-proclaimed leaders of the former slaves—spoke up.
— It's too early to relax. Night is coming soon. We should set up camp and find water.
— You talk too much, girl, — snapped an irritated, cheek-boned man with a dirty red beard. — Look at her, calling herself a captain with a cunt.
— None of that! — Javier exclaimed angrily. — Take your foul words back or I will shove them down your throat along with your teeth, you dog! Didn't Adora help free you from that stone sack?
— She was serving the rats until the Ogre came, — the bearded man countered, but Javier's bravado clearly impressed him.
When the Estalian demonstratively reached for his blade, the troublemaker began to mumble apologies. The conflict was resolved.
Soon our group moved away from the passage underground. Then the people began to set up camp. They made bedding from pine needles and erected lean-tos, stretching out rags soaked with Skaven stench between poles.
Javier selected a dozen and a half men and set about drilling them. He intended to assign them to shifts for the night watch.
Magg was eating Goblins.
A couple of dozen men and women dispersed into the woods around the camp to gather firewood for the fires. They were also looking for berries, nuts, and mushrooms. Erik promised that he would personally help select the edible ones.
— Come on, hero, — Adora approached me. — You'll protect me in the woods.
— Better ask Javier, — I replied.
— He's busy. Come. We won't go too far.
I got to my feet and, taking my shield, which was cracked after the Orc's blow, followed the group of gatherers. Evening was gradually turning into twilight, but it was still relatively bright.
A significant portion of the gatherers stayed near the camp itself. There was plenty of fallen wood and windbreak in this forest. However, Adora walked a little farther.
— Do you hear that? — she asked. — There's a stream nearby.
— I don't hear it yet.
The girl boldly strode deeper into the forest, and I tried not to lose sight of her while listening for any suspicious sounds around. The camp was about a couple of hundred meters away from us. That's a considerable distance in a thick forest. The rustling of the crowns and other sounds of nature drowned out human voices.
— Here, — Adora pointed to a small stream that had washed out a shallow bed for itself in the forest floor.
— You're sharp, — I nodded. — It's barely audible.
— Does searching for water not fall under the powers Sigmar granted you? — the girl smirked, turning to face me.
Her face was cold as water in a mountain spring, yet alive and beautiful in its own way, despite all the hardships she had endured.
— No. I don't sense water any better than others.
— What a pity, — she replied, stepping closer. — But do you sense the presence of evil?
— Not always, — I answered evasively.
— Then we'll have to do it the old-fashioned way, — she remarked, and unexpectedly, catching hold of her rather short robe, she pulled it off over her head.
She stood before me completely naked, save for primitive sandals. In the deepening twilight, her skin, which had not seen the sun for so long, seemed spectrally white. The girl's figure was very thin, but not as emaciated as the other slaves. Her small breasts were enticing with the anticipation of gentle softness.
— Come on, — Adora said, stepping even closer. — You should check if there are any marks of evil on me, shouldn't you? It's not very bright here, so you can feel around.
The girl's eyes radiated temptation. Her lips were slightly parted. She took my left hand, trying to place it on her chest, but I exercised self-control, pulling away.
— Javier is trailing after you. I don't want to come between you two. Getting into a feud with an experienced duelist is more trouble than it's worth.
The seductress's mask immediately fell from the girl's face. She laughed again, picking up her clothing and partially covering her nudity. Adora stepped back, looking at me with playful amusement.
— And the unsullied youth of Sigmar is also smart and cautious. Are you sure you served in a tavern? You look more like a squire or the son of some merchant.
— I served, — I nodded. — I was just an ordinary village boy. My talents were waiting for their hour and the right opportunity.
— I don't believe Sigmar is helping you, — Adora admitted frankly. — You just made a deal with the Horned Sorcerer, didn't you? He healed your wounds in exchange for freedom and Warpstone?
Oh! A logical version. She figured I had secured the Grey Seer's support.
— Perhaps, — I answered evasively.
— Have you thought about what we will do when we reach human lands?
— Live. Drink beer, eat sausages with cabbage, pray to Sigmar, and look for Chaos marks on each other.
— Then you haven't thought it through. You and the Ogre have some money, but all those people are just ragged beggars without a single copper. Many will only find a place on the church steps and in the slums. And Erik also said that Imperial troops are expecting an invasion from the Northerners. Not the best time for wandering around with a bunch of riff-raff.
— And what do you propose?
— Assemble a warband. Try to sell your services to the Empire. Before an invasion, the Elector Counts are especially generous in paying mercenaries. You have an Ogre with you. You can demand a good price for him.
— We haven't gotten out of this mess yet. Let's solve problems as they arise.
— Well, well, — the girl nodded meaningfully and pulled her short robe back on. — You shouldn't have refused. You won't find anyone prettier than me until you reach the Empire. Or are you smitten with the pointy-ear?
— No. I prefer girls who are aware of what's going on.
Adora burst into laughter:
— I overheard a couple of men discussing how the pointy-ear would react if someone had sex with her. Would she blink, moan, or continue to stare silently into nothingness.
— I hope they don't try to find out. Erik has a heavy mallet and even heavier friends. Tell me, Adora, could you use a Skaven gun?
— No, of course not. And no one but them can.
— Why? We have their Warpstone-laced powder and bullets. We could gradually increase the charge to find the optimal one.
Adora snorted mockingly.
— You reason smoothly, Herr Jurgen. That would work for human weapons. An arquebus or a musket is made so that any person can easily use it. But expensive Skaven weapons are made so that only the creator or the owner can use them.
The girl came up to me and took my hand, like the stock of an imaginary Jezzail. Her fingers tightly wrapped around my wrist.
— You have to grip it in a certain way or press on a specific point. Otherwise, a hidden mechanism will activate. The barrel will explode, or a poisonous barb will plunge into your arm. Do you understand?
— So, this rifle can only be attempted to be sold to collectors of rarities, engineers, or mages?
— Yes, — the girl nodded, releasing my hand. — Give me your flask. Let's get some water, hero.
I think she deliberately lured me here for this conversation and attempted seduction. If I had given in, Adora would have gained leverage. Plus, she could have pitted me against Javier if necessary. This girl had spent too much time among the rats. However, her brain worked better than the other former slaves'.
Javier was a simple brawler. Straightforward as the rapier he was once taught to handle. Markus Schlossberg now thought solely of Sigmar. The rest were only interested in questions of survival and how the pointy-ear would react if someone had sex with her. So, this girl could help us a lot… or do us a great disservice. I need to keep a sharp eye on her.
The first night under the sky passed quite peacefully. Only once did a sentry hear something in the woods and rouse some of the fighters.
Then, grabbing our weapons, we spent several long, agonizing minutes listening and peering into the night forest. Nothing. Perhaps a timid deer ran past the camp, or the potential enemy simply didn't dare to mess with our squad.
In the morning, a fresh wind blew. Squig meat with mushrooms collected around the camp sizzled over the fires.
Before breakfast, I managed to train with Javier and lightly wash myself in the nearby stream. An incredible luxury. Would I soon be able to wash my clothes or even buy new ones? How little a man needs to be happy.
Erik was feeding the apathetic Elf with a spoon. She ate slowly and with obvious reluctance. Each new spoonful required more coaxing.
— Come on, just a little more, — the noseless cook cooed. — Look, what a beautiful little mushroom this is.
— I have a bigger mushroom for her, — the red-bearded troublemaker chuckled, catching looks of condemnation from the nearest women. — Maybe she'll swallow that more willingly.
Erik paid him no mind, continuing to treat the Elf to his cooking. I wasn't sure if she even understood his words of persuasion or if she just ate to be left alone.
All but one woman, who was bitten by Squigs, were now on their feet out of the 83 former slaves. The other wounded had recovered, demonstrating the miraculous resilience of their bodies. It was no surprise, though. The people here still live under conditions of natural selection, and sometimes even supernatural selection. Only the strongest survive.
Gathering our belongings, we set off again, emerging onto the forest path. The bright sun lit the way. Looking at the tree crowns bathed in its rays, it was hard to believe that somewhere deep beneath our feet existed a world without sun. Stale tunnels inhabited by malevolent creatures.
Some of the slaves, in their joy, started singing a song about a marksman in the forest. The people's mood was clearly elevated. This continued for several more hours until we came to a small clearing that the path crossed. Our group startled a flock of crows feasting on carrion. The birds, cawing discontentedly, settled on the trees, observing what insolent intruders had spoiled their feast.
The clearing was full of dead Goblins. Someone might say, "Are dead Goblins a bad thing? They are much worse alive."
That's true. However, what unpleasantly struck us now was not the mere presence of the greenskins' corpses, but how they had been killed. The little bastards had been very unlucky. Dozens of them were literally torn to pieces. Their entrails were strung up on tree branches. Six heads were skewered on a rope. This gruesome garland adorned a crooked spruce tree. A headless greenskin corpse was nailed to the trunk of another tree, and an eight-pointed star had been carved into its body. There was no doubt who had had their fun here.
Amidst this bacchanalia, one could notice a still-living greenskin. The Chaos worshipers had amused themselves particularly vigorously with him. The Goblin was completely naked and impaled through his rear end on a thick, roughly planed stake. The sadists had even nailed a crosspiece there so that the Gobba wouldn't slide down too low under his own weight and die too quickly. The wretch's hands were bound, not with rope, but to each other. They were broken in multiple places until they were flexible flails, and then tied into a knot. The greenskin's feet were cut off, his eyes gouged out, his ears clipped, and bouquets of wild flowers were inserted into them, hanging down both sides of his head like ugly pigtails. His groin was a massive wound. Chaos symbols were burned onto his forehead and belly.
No human could have endured such executions for too long. However, the greenskin's vitality was now working against him, prolonging his nightmarish suffering. Flies and carrion beetles were already gathering for the feast, and the Gobba was still twitching.
The Goblin opened its maw, but no pleas or insults burst from its tormented body. Only incoherent mumbling with a list of the executions the sadists had subjected him to.
— H-half my fingers they ate themselves… h-half they shoved into my…
— Pth-foo! — Magg grimaced, looking at the Chaos worshipers' bloody artistry. — Bad. Not good. They shouldn't waste food like that. Eh, hey, take this greenskin off the stick and roast the poor sod for me. Although, if it's easier for you, you can roast him right on that stick.
Ogre mercy as it is.
The people were also deeply affected by the sight. Cries of horror and indignation swept through the crowd of former slaves. Hardly anyone here sympathized with the Goblin. It was just that we all understood perfectly well that if a human fell into the hands of Chaos worshipers, their fate would be just as nightmarish.
A terrible evil was prowling somewhere near us.
— Sigmar, protect us from the cursed heretics, — Markus Schlossberg said, making the sign of the hammer.
Many other former slaves did the same.
The Halfling intently scanned the tracks left in the clearing. His eyes carefully examined every depression and crushed blade of grass.
— There were many of them… — the cook muttered. — A hundred, maybe. The tracks aren't only human. There are hooves.
— Beastmen, — Javier spat disdainfully onto the ground.
— We need to leave the path, — Adora declared. — Herr Erik, can we get to the Pass by another route?
— Only through the thicket or along animal trails. There will be problems with the cart, but we can try…
— Then let's go into the forest! — one of the women cried out with despair in her voice. — I want to get home! I endured so much torment in the mine, not to be torn apart by Beastmen.
Our procession began to leave the trail for the forest. Only a few men and Magg suggested staying. However, the Ogre did not insist, tempted by Erik's promises. The Halfling assured him that it would be easier to hunt deer and wild honey in the thicket.
Our progress slowed considerably. The forest was one continuous obstacle course. Undulating terrain, thickets of bushes, young trees, and, of course, piles of fallen trees. The procession trudged slowly, tormented by clouds of midges. From time to time, we had to clear the way for the cart, dragging away broken trees. Magg wasn't very eager to help us. The Ogre was busy stuffing every mushroom he found on the road into his maw or raiding low-hanging bird nests.
It's terrible to say, but I even started to miss the underground road.
During a halt, a concerned Javier and Adora approached me, breathing heavily after another session of pushing the cart out of the mud.
— Red is gone, — she declared. — That bearded bastard.
— Could he have been kidnapped? — I asked.
— More likely that swine slipped away himself, — Javier answered viciously. — I should have challenged him to a duel and pinned him to a tree.
— Does he really think that the heretics will treat him better than the Goblins?
— He might have manifested marks, — Adora replied. — We were mining Warpstone. It threatens people with more than just death.
— We must find him and finish him off, — Javier stated decisively. — Before that scoundrel leads a herd of mutants to us.
We turned to Erik to track the fugitive. The Halfling was very reluctant to abandon his charge, the Elf, but our arguments convinced him. Leaving the pointy-ear in the care of a few women, Erik went off to search for the runaway's tracks. Magg also tagged along. He was simply bored sitting in one place while, as he put it, his "stomach was half empty."
A huge Ogre wouldn't do much for our stealth, but if we did stumble upon Chaos worshipers, his help would be welcome.
— He's probably going back along our tracks, — Erik stated. — He wants to get to the clearing where we found the greenskins' corpses.
Logical.
Markus Schlossberg's dream came true. I hadn't acquired new boots yet, but I was already performing the functions of a Witch Hunter. I was following the trail of a potential heretic.
Traveling lightly and without the cart, we quickly returned to the clearing. There were noticeably fewer dead Goblins there. Magg Gut-Gouger had disposed of them. The crows were picking at the remaining entrails.
On the opposite side of the clearing, the head of a moose with sprawling antlers poked out from the bushes. The animal watched us intently. Magg grinned broadly, baring his sharp teeth. The Ogre dropped down to all fours again so as not to spook the potential food.
— Come here, yummy. Come here, little one… — Magg beckoned, and then whispered to us. — Go around him, skinny ones.
The moose showed no signs of fear. The reason for this soon became clear to me. A huge hand, covered in fur but still similar to human limbs, reached out from the bush concealing the "moose." In it, the Beastman held a hunting horn. He put it to his snout and…
A long, vibrating sound from the horn rang through the forest thicket. A second later, other calls began to echo it from the depths of the forest. It seemed the aspiring Witch Hunter Jurgen would have to face his first battle with evil without the good boots Markus had promised.