Chapter Text
Two more shillings fell on the battered oak table, singing their metallic chorus as they spun and vibrated around one another like two celestial bodies in a dangerously small orbit. They come to an abrupt halt as an aging hand pressed them to the table, and picked them up to place them in a leather bag. Franz Lohner was counting the money again, a habit he had developed from a A disturbing lack of things to busy himself with during the dark months that had passed. Before the world had gone mad and things had taken the turn for him that they had, he never quite knew what being bored was. Running the tavern in Übersreik kept him infinitely busy… the invasion of the hordes of Skaven, even more so. But now, staring into the cold, stone walls of the monolith that was Taal’s Horn Keep, he found himself waiting again. The dim light and cold mountain air made him want to sleep all the time. So counting the money -even though he almost always knew exactly how much there was- kept him awake, busy. Out in the keep, he had to wait weeks to hear anything at all from any of his contacts about what was going in the world; he was used to being updated by the hour back in the constant commotion in Übersreik. He let out a sigh as he closed the bag, half considering starting again just to have something to do, when he heard a familiar hum from the stairwell to his left.
Just in time.
The silence didn’t last long.
“Lohner!” He heard Fuegonassus call in her smoke-strained voice. “A healer’s draught, quick!” She was panicked. Sienna was never panicked. He moved quickly, opening a low cabinet by his feet and pulling from the space a small, green bottle that emitted the faintest light. He moved from behind his counter, the leather bag of gold forgotten.
He was about to ask what in the world had her so worked up, when he heard a scream from down the stairs, echoing off of the round walls of the keep. He rounded the corner to see a mass of moving limbs, as Salzpyre and Bardin were straining to keep Kruber still, his eyes wild, legs kicking and letting out strained gasps and moans. “Quickly, the drought! Cried Sienna, moving over to help the other two, while Kerillian looked on, her black eyes betraying no emotion. “Hold him still, will you?” Said Bardin, wrestling Kruber’s left arm to the floor. “I am trying, master Dwarf, but Kruber is stronger than he looks!” Said the Witch Hunter. Lohner moved over to them, taking in Kruber’s gaunt face, the eyes rolling into the back of his head. “What happened?” His voice was calm, his eyes set on Kruber. “Arrow to his shoulder.” Bardin was faring better in keeping him still. “Some kind of poison. No idea who did it, definitely not a raki.” Lohner thought for a second, seeing Kruber’s head whipping side to side. He look at the Elf standing a small distance away, her gaze distant but turned to Kruber, the arms folded across her chest. “Kerillian, can you make him stay still?” She gave no answer, only continuing to stare at Kruber in silent indifference. “Kerillian!” He called again, and now her onyx eyes turned to him. “Get him to stop struggling! Lohner moved over and sat on kurber’s chest, anchoring him to the floor, and pulled the cork from the green bottle. Without a word the Elf moved over and crouched by Kruber’s head. Taking hold of his chin, she shot her other hand forward, striking a glancing blow to the side of his jaw. Kruber was suddenly limp. “You don’t have long. Do what you need to do.” She said. She stood now, and walked away, up the stairs and out of sight to the courtyard where her tent was pitched.
“Quickly now,” Lohner brought the tip of the green glass to Kruber’s lips, and began to pour slowly. A moment passed in silence, and they all watched Kruber’s limp form. His eyes shot open and Lohner clasped a hand over his mouth immediately. “Drink.” He said, staring into Kruber’s eyes with all seriousness. Kruber’s brows knitted together into a confused stare. “You’ve been poisoned. Drink the bloody healing draught.” Kruber began to swallow slowly, end Lohner removed his hand and brought the tip of the phial to his lips, and poured the rest of it. Satisfied that his fit was over, Lohner stood, and allowed Kruber to sit up. “By The Lady, my shoulder hurts.” He said, inspecting his exposed flesh. A terrible branch of black veins was still visible under the welted skin where his shoulder been pierced. “You were very nearly done in,” said Sienna, her body seeming to release a great tension. Saltzpyre helped Kruber to his feet. “I must recommend you go to rest, Kruber. Your body my not yet have purged the vile poison with which you were attacked.”
“Right,” said Kruber, still wobbling slightly on his feet. “That sounds like a great idea. I guess I’ll go have a lie-down then.”
“You are in no condition to walk alone.” Said Saltzpyre, taking Kruber’s arm and putting it about his shoulders. He guided Kruber up the central stairs and around towards the direction of his quarters. “I’ll bring you another draught.” Called Sienna after him.
They heard Kruber’s thanks echo on the walls.
Saltzpyre sat in his room, reading by the sparse light of a few candles when there came a knock on his door. Incensed at the intrusion, he grumbled to himself as he rose to open the door. Sienna stood in the frame, a stern look upon her features.
“What is it witch? That you would bother me at such a time…”
“Oh get off your high-horse.” She said, putting a hand on his chest and pushing past him, seating herself at his table, where he sat a moment earlier. Indignant, he opened and closed his mouth, but breathed deeply, thinking it not worth the trouble. “Kruber’s not healed.” She said, before he could utter anything. “Of course not.” He retorted. “He will need a few more days to recover. Surely you’ve seen someone poisoned before?” She rolled her eyes. “‘Course I have,” she said irritated. “But that’s not what I mean. I don’t think that was any regular old poison.” This piqued his interest. “Go on.” He said, folding his arms slowly.
She smirked.
“I went to check on him earlier,” she said, staring at the door to the chamber, as if someone might burst in at any moment. “And he isn’t any better. He has his moments of being chipper, but the marks on him look right terrible!” Saltzpyre pursed his lips. “Hmm. I wonder.” He said, moving over to a stack of books he’d left close to the table upon which a fresh Skaven cadaver had been placed, the black, unseeing eyes staring into the ceiling; yet despite its stillness, she could’ve sworn she saw the eye move. Sienna suppressed a shiver. Saltzpyre pulled a small leather-bound book from the pile, the cover beginning to fray and its pages darkened and stained. His hand turned the pages with practiced ease, until he stopped, a long, bony finger tracing the words. “ hagbane root… Hekarti’s bloom and…” he was mumbling, but Sienna was standing close enough that she could hear his words and read the shapes of his lips. A dark expression came to his features, his eyes narrowing. “Where is the Elf?” He asked in a low voice. “She went off to her tent I imagine. Didn’t want to have much to do with any of us since we came back.”
Salzpyre breathed in and out, deeply. “I imagine she wouldn’t. You were the one that pulled the arrow from him. Tell me, what did it look like?” Sienna tilted her head to the side, her eyes raising to the roof as she tried to remember. “It was… black. Pitch black. And ridges in the arrowhead…”
“No doubt to maximise the delivery of the poison. Where was the Elf when he was shot?” His eyes bore now into hers. “…right…. By him… she brought our attention to him. Why?” She was searching his features, confusion beginning to set in.
Saltzpyre closed the book now, moving past Sienna towards the entrance to his quarters, flinging the heavy wooden door open with a strength that belied his skinny frame. “We must find her at once. Her very presence endangers us all. She must be made to leave at once!”
Sienna was behind him, breaking into a light jog to keep up with his long strides. “What are you on about Victor? I know you can barely tolerate her but isn’t that a bit extreme? After all we’ve been through together? What is it that makes her so dangerous to us now?” She grabbed at the fabric of his shirt-sleeve but missed it narrowly. They were in the courtyard now, and above great storm clouds had gathered, making the stones of the keep seem ever more grey. Salzpyre was taking a direct path to Kerillian’s tent, his strides seemed to grow longer. “Because, Fuegonasus, I do not think that Kruber was the intended target of that arrow. And whomever fired it, may have followed her here to finish off their mark.”
Sienna was quiet now, her mouth opening and closing but no sound came out.
Kruber’s eyes began to open, and the fog of colour began to take shape. He was aware now that he was in his quarters, from the frame that hung at his bedside, and the chest, still tightly locked -as it should be- across from him. He considered for a moment sitting up, as was his instinct, but a flood of memories came to him with great force. Chaos. Noise. Fire. Rats. So many damn rats. He hated above all that he had a particularly good nose, and that he could always smell them. If their matted fur wasn’t putrid in its stench enough as it was, he could sometimes taste it in his mouth - especially once Sienna had cast her sights on them. The pain in his shoulder returned with a fury. He cast his eyes down to shoulder wrapped in a net of bandages; Beneath the crisscrossing of the fabric he could see the angry, black veins peeking out, like the feelers of insects touching out from beneath a rock. “Bloody ‘ell if that don’t look nasty.” he muttered. Bracing, he managed to pull himself upright despite the feeling that his arm might detach if he pushed on it too hard. He looked out through the open door of his room, past the balcony and across the courtyard at the pale mountains beyond Taal’s Horn, the frosting on their caps having shrunk over the last month as they moved deeper into the summer. Indeed it was getting a bit hot in the room, and he was glad the balcony door had been left open. He put his hands in his lap, staring at the digits as he tried to remember. They had returned once more to Helmgart, to clean out what of the ratmen remained, now that Rasknitt was dead and the advances of the Rotbloods had been halted - for now. It was simply another day, another incursion. But something was not right. He could smell it in the air, feel it like the moving of fabric. As they went on the feeling seemed to subside, but it never truly left him. But then something caught his sight, and the feeling returned stronger than before. He was not the only one who felt this. Perchance he looked to Kerillian and saw her poise, the slight lift of her shoulders, the way her eyes would wander to the roofs around them, peering into the dark at unknowns only she could see. She moved backwards and her foot caught on a loosened stone, the edge protruding just enough to hook onto the sole of her boot. His eyes widened as he saw her stumble, nearly fall, but bring back her other foot in time to catch her. Kruber had the good sense to turn away, pretend that something behind him had caught his attention. But his heart was beating faster now as the feeling had returned to him much stronger than before. What in this world could cause her to lose an ounce composure? He had seen her charge into a bestigor with the calm of one taking an evening stroll, face a chaos warrior without a moment’s hesitation.
What could she fear above a bray-herd abomination and an oversized faithful of a chaos god?
He remembered feeling her eyes on him. He had now way of knowing, but he knew. The others were ahead of them on the other side of the square, it was only the two of them bringing up the rear. When the feeling subsided a moment later he turned back, and making some comment about the coast being clear, moved past her with as much haste as he could. They were moving onward, the old corpses of the rats already slain - that had not been reclaimed by their brethren as food - had begun to send an unbearable rot into the air. They were very nearly at Olesya’s portal when they heard the battle cry of a Skaven horde. Of course he suspected that the survivors might band together to retake this part of the city, but the sheer number of them did surprise him. They poured in from every direction as always, throwing their bodies at their enemies in a totally uncoordinated assault. But with no real leadership and and no real elite soldiers among them, Kruber knew that they only needed to hold the line long enough against a force of Skavenslaves and Clanrats until they began to rout out of fear. He almost wished that they didn’t. He would rather not have to return again to clean house. But as they pushed forward he saw something out of place, there on a distant rooftop. Was that a person? Was someone truly alive in a city completely ravaged by ratmen? Something had flown through the air, past him and right past… her.
The feeling that had nagged at him had risen to a high pitched whine in the back of his mind that was screaming at him to get out. Get away.
The rats had begun to waver, more and more trickling away in retreat. Yet the figure was still there in the distant darkness, visible only by the outline of their clothes. He turned to Kerillian, who had doubtlessly heard the projectile fly past her head. But she was frozen, staring, her eyes locked to the figure. A silent chord stretched taut between them. Something stirred within him, and without thinking he crashed into kerillian, and at the same time a terrible pain bloomed in his shoulder. He could remember the scream that tore itself free from his mouth, the image of her above him firing a torrent of arrows with inhuman agility, Sienna’s voice, and hands about him, being dragged somewhere, slipping in and out of wakefulness.
The door to his quarters opened abruptly and Victor marched in followed by Sienna, who’s eyes found his immediately, looking very apologetic. “Kruber.” Victor said formally, turning to him. “Welcome on in sir.” Said Kruber, his mouth turned in a smile, only his eyes betraying his sarcasm. “How can I be of service? Though I don’t reckon I could do much for you with the sorry state I’m in.” Behind Saltzpyre he could see Sienna’s mouth twitch into a smile.
“Has the Elf been here?” He asked pointedly. Kruber’s brow raised. “Kerillian? Here? Are we talking about the same person?” Saltzpyre drew another deep breath of composure. “A strange conjecture I’m sure, but I ask this with reason. Now answer my question.” Kruber searched his eye, but as was the case at any given moment, Saltzpyre betrayed nothing of his thoughts. “No.” Kruber answered, the question seeming to stumble out; “Why? That’s a very strange thing to ask. You know as well as I that Kerillian’d rather eat dirt than hang out with any of us. I take it you don’t know where she is?” Saltzpyre seemed poised to answer, but Sienna interjected. “No. We don’t know. Victor here thinks she’s got someone after her. Says that arrow was meant for her. Now he’s afraid she’s been followed here and we’re all in some kind of danger.”
Kruber was silent a moment, his eyes darting around in time with his thoughts.
“He’s right.” He said suddenly, looking up at the two. “I mean, about the arrow. Maybe all of it.” His hand came unconsciously to his bandages. “Someone was trying to shoot her.” He paused, his eyes for a moment distant, as if weighing his words. “But they hit me instead.” Saltzpyre pursed his lips, his eye jumping around as he considered kruber’s words. “We must find the Elf. She brings a danger that we cannot afford. Her assailant may yet be skilled enough to track her here.”
Kruber tried to sit up further, but winced under the pain of his wound. “Now hang on,” Kruber said, keeping both eyes rested intently on Saltzpyre. “How would that even be? We jumped through whatever ridiculous magic portal Olesya opened. Went from Helmgart to here, in the blink of an eye. No way they could track where Taal’s Horn is?”
Saltzpyre’s lips twitched before becoming a sneer. “I do not know Kruber. I am in the business of hunting users of fell magic, not using such magic myself. I do not know what her would be assassins are capable of, only that I cannot take any chances. We have enough enemies as it stands. Regardless, if she was not here, then I will find her.” Saltzpyre turned on his heel and passed through the doorframe to Kruber’s quarters. Kruber turned now to Sienna, who rolled her eyes as Saltzpyre left. “Sienna.” Kruber said, concern in his voice. This had the effect of gaining her attention. “What does he plan to do once he finds Kerillian?”
Sienna’s expression turned more stern, but not enough that it was obvious. “I… don’t now. But whatever it is, nothing will come of it, darling. You know how he is. But you should be more concerned about you. How is your shoulder faring?”
Kruber sat more at ease. “Still hurts more than I’d like to admit. Doesn’t look any better though. Wish I knew what I’ve been hit with. Can’t help but think, what if it spreads, what if it creeps into me ‘eart, or we have to cut off my arm, or -“
“Markus.” Sienna said seriously, cutting his words short.
“It won’t come that. I promise, sergeant.”
Kruber smiled at her warmly. After a pause, he spoke. “Also thanks, you know, for leaving the salves and fresh bandages. Really helps a lot with the pain.” Sienna looked at him, confused now. “Markus, I didn’t bring you any bandages.”
~~~~~~~~~~~
The light from the sconces flickered on the stone, the tiny bits of crystal caught in the brick reflecting the light like a sea of stars, and there in the shadow, the Witch Hunter Captain watched from high above. He had a certain suspicion, and needed only to wait for a short time. Down the stairs in the centre of the keep, a familiar blue light appeared, a constant, droning coming from the portal chamber. As the light faded, he crouched down to further hide himself from view. The slightest sound of boots grinding on the stone steps echoed off of the walls. Victor peeked his eyes over the ledge of the walkway, and saw down below, a slender figure clad in a green hood slip through the sparse light of the keep, a satchel clutched at their side. He dared not move, and waited for the footsteps to go out towards the keep’s training yard, where he knew they would go. In any other case, Victor might have smiled in smug satisfaction at being so absolutely right.
But he did not now.
Something in him bristled like a cat, feeling a cold rise in him, a foreboding fear. He felt again that the elf could not be trusted, and recent events had only compounded his feeling that her secretive nature would lead them into trouble. He briefly considered following her out to her shelter, but thought better of it; he knew her enhanced senses would give him away, and stealth was never really his manner of doing things anyway. He resolved instead, to search for his answers in her absence, whenever Sigmar would grant him the opportunity.
The Champions of Ubersreik, save for Kruber, had gathered before Franz Lohner, who had briefed them of the latest goings on, what little news he could receive of the goings on the empire. They were to be dispatched at once to the outskirts Altdorf, on the orders of Emperor Karl Franz himself. The moment the words had left his lips, Saltzpyre had at once become rigid and energised, manic. “This… this is incredible! We’ve been summoned! By the Emperor no less!” He began pacing up and down, as the others watched him, some amused, some not. “I don’t understand your excitement,” Kerillian spoke, folding her arms across her chest, her back leading against the stairway that led straight up to the artifact room. “So we’ve been called to help out on the far reaches of some mayfly city, and now you’re prancing around, beside yourself?” Saltzpyre regarded her with an acidic glare. “It is significant , she Elf, because it means we have been called to serve under the highest authority save for Sigmar himself. It is an honour you would not understand, seeing as you serve no-one but false gods… and yourself.” In the deafening silence, Kerillian’s black eyes widened for a moment before narrowing into a terrible scowl. “How dare you! You self righteous gnat! You Sigmarites know nothing of protecting anything but your own lands which you scar and deform nonetheless! You’re oblivious to things my kind have known for thousands of years. You’ve no idea what damage your kind have done to the weave even before the coming of these chaos gods. Go now and defend your mayfly kingdom, its all you care about. And I hope your barbarian god is with you, because I won’t be.” Kerillian turned on her heel and left, moving silently up the stairs and out to the training yard. Lohner put his face in his hands, shaking his head as he came up, and Sienna fixed an acerbic look upon Saltzpyre, who mere exhaled pointedly through his nose, before staring straight at the portal. “Come now. Altdorf awaits.” He began to move to the blue light, before he felt a slender hand in his arm. He turned, met with Sienna’s dark eyes, the flecks of amber only intensifiying her stare. “It’s not a good idea Victor. We’re two men down. We’re simply not enough. Give me a chance to go talk to her.”
“Nonsense,” he said nonchalantly, unable now to keep Sienna’s stare. “I have been called to serve, and I will go to carry out my duty, with, or without you.”
“Sienna’s right, dawri,” Bardin had come to stand before Saltzpyre. “You’ll find yourself in an early grave if you go alone.” Victor had moved past him, on the threshold of stepping into the blue light. “Suit yourselves. But the hammer has need of me, and I will answer.” He passed into the light, obscured by the rippling magic. Bardin made a gruff sound of disapproval from deep in his chest. “He’s serious. Not that that I don’t feel like killing Raki, but this will be dangerous.” Sienna sighed. “If that isn’t the truth. Come Bardin, let us go with him before he gets himself killed. I’ll deal with Kerillian when we get back, give her time to calm down.” Bardin eyed her with the expression of one impressed. “Aye. Let’s not let him lose his only good eye.” They both passed into the blue light.
Kruber was floating, drifting between sleep and wakefulness, his senses caught in a great fog. He knew the others would no doubt continue their work against the vermintide; that he was relegated to bedrest frustrated him to no end. At times his shoulder would feel cold, then a numbness would bloom through his arm as of it were not there at all, and often it would send him to slumber, the feeling returned when he would awaken. This was for him the worst of the pain, the irritation, the frustration, the indignity of being reduced to recovering in bed. While the Reikland burned, and the Skaven and Rotbloods continued to tear through his home, he could do nothing but wait; wait as an unknowable poison flowed through him. And this brought with it great fears: fear that he could never use his arm again, that he could be suffer a life of slow deterioration, perhaps a slow descent into madness… that he might die, and never again see the four members of their motley crew of survivors, not Lohner or Olesya. He mustered enough strength to bring his legs out from under the blankets, moving slowly so that he could sit up. Through the window, the moon was partially shrouded under darkened clouds. His jaw tightened at the thought the he could not even go out into the courtyard to train. A knock on the door roused him from his thoughts. “Come in!” He called, for a moment wondering at how his cramped room must smell to anyone entering from inside. The door handle tilted and the door crocked open, the smallest sliver of light entered the dark chamber. As the door opened, a slender arm pushed the door forward. Kruber thought that perhaps Sienna had come to see him again, but the thought died when a head of silver-white hair moved in time with the door, and Kerillian’s black eyes met his. Even in the sparse light of the sconces, he could see the flicker of surprise on her features. “Kruber. You’re up.” She passed into the room, and he saw now the satchel slung about her shoulder. “Well, up as much as I can be, not quite ready for a walk.” She stepped closer now, and took hold of the leather bag resting on her hip, and began to pull from it various items which she promptly dropped between his knees. “Your bandages need to be changed. It’s better that you’re up, it’ll be easier.” Kruber frowned for a moment, blinking rapidly as his mind shot around like a ball in a tube. “You… it was you,” he began, not able to meet her gaze. “Aye, it was me. And you’re lucky it was. Had any of the others done the job you’d be dead now. Now take those off, I need to apply the new poultice.” Wordlessly he pulled on the knot around his arm, loosening the bandages wrapped around his torso. He was about the pull at the fabric, but her hands shot to the bandages, and began hastily removing them. Kruber watched for a moment, in awe of the sheer speed and dexterity of her hands. He mused that it should come as no surprise; he had seen her nock and fire arrows at speeds no human could be capable of. As she pulled the last of the old bandages aside, he looked down at his own shoulder, seeing the angry black veins still cascading out from the gruesome puncture mark. There was a soft gasp to his side, and from the corner of his vision he could see Kerillian’s head was very still, her eyes focused for a moment on his wound. “This… this is healing well, all things considered.” She spoke as her gaze turned from him, head searching for anything else to look at, her voice sounding fragile. She reached for the small pot she had brought with her, lifting the small lid to reveal a dark green paste. She dipped a finger in, bringing some of it with her, and began to slowly apply the concoction to his wound. As she did this, Kruber was utterly silent, watching in fascination as she spread the paste over his wound. She withdrew her hand now, and pulled a fresh roll of bandages from her satchel, which she began to unravel. “Say, that stuff is rather soothing. What in the world is it?” Kerillian did not cease unravelling or turn her head up to look at him. “It’s a poultice made from rare herbs. Even if one of your healers could find them, they wouldn’t know how to prepare it. You’d have to have grown up in Athel Loren.” There was a thick silence in the air now, and Kruber felt a heaviness in his chest, part pity, part regret. She began to wrap the new bandages around him, and Kruber only then noticed how close she sat to him. “Hey… I’m sorry you can’t go back. You know, whatever the reason is. I won’t pry… and I do hope you can return one day. But until then, I’m glad you’re here.” Kruber saw her hands freeze for a moment, before they returned to their work. “Y-yes well, I’m not. Being stuck in this ruin with a group of Mayflies and killing rats everyday was not exactly in my plan for myself.” Kruber only shook his head slightly. “Well if we’re so intolerable, why are you going through all this trouble to help me recover? Rare herb whatever-it’s-called and all?”
She had finished tying the bandages and moved back from him, her eyes turning away from his face. Even though they were inky black and unreadable, something in her manner gave her the quality of being far away. “You…. It’s the least I could do Kruber.” Kruber was stunned at the softness of her voice, the sincerity. It almost unnerved him to hear it come from her mouth. “What do you mean? We all help each other all the time.” She turned to face him now, her eyes having found his. “That arrow was meant for me Kruber. And you put yourself between me and it. That poison should be in my veins. You saved my life. I don’t take that lightly.” Kruber’s expressions was soft now, understanding her prickly exterior. “Ehh… we’ll you don’t know that? Look I survived, so I reckon that poison isn’t all that good if can’t even kill a mayfly like me.” Kerillian looked at him now, something about her stare was intense, scrutinising; it unnerved him deeply. “Well… you have my thanks.” She was slung the satchel back over her shoulder, returning the small pot of herbal paste. “You need to keep resting, let the herbs work.”
She opened the door, and peeked over her shoulder. “And Kruber… if you tell anyone that I was here or why…. You will be the recipient of a poison that actually will kill you.” Before he had the chance to react, the door was closed.