CHAPTER TEN

The next morning they woke with the dawn. All around them the Empire soldiers were rising, washing, eating, relieving themselves, and receiving orders for the day. Alaric gathered his companions off to one side and they discussed their own plans over the meagre breakfast Druber had provided.

“We’ll need a map of the area,” he pointed out, and continued briskly to get past the dismay he felt and saw in the others as well. Renke would have loved the Black Fire Pass, with all its side passages and tunnels. “Holst, ask Druber for one—he’s more likely to give it to you.” Holst nodded. “Adelrich, we’ll need to start scouting the rest of the pass. Speak to Haas’ scouts and tell them what we’re seeking—not why, just a general description. That way if they see it we’ll know.” Adelrich nodded. “The rest of us can search as well. We’ll cover more ground if we spread out, though we’ll stay close enough to hear one another shout. I don’t want anyone getting jumped by orcs.” He thought about it. “Adelrich, I’ll want you checking upper passes we can’t get to. We’ll watch the ground.” He glanced around. “Right, then?” They all nodded. “Good. Let’s get to it.”

The day passed slowly, as did the next. They learned a great deal about the Black Fire Pass, about its cracks and gaps, and tunnels and caves, and cliffs and ledges. They learned to hate the sight of the cold stone around them and the feel of the wind dipping down into the pass, and the chill of the rock below them when they slept. They learned to tolerate Druber’s short answers, and dry biscuits and over-salted beef. They learned to respect Haas’ tactical sense and his concern for his men. They also learned that, though the Black Fire Pass had thousands of hiding places suitable for the statue, not one of them held anything of interest, at least none of the ones they had yet found.

As the second day wound down, one of Haas’ scouts burst into the camp, barely slowing as he dodged between soldiers and ran for the command tent. Alaric and the others had just returned themselves and were telling the commander their lack of success when the scout appeared at the tent flap.

“Sir!” The man stood at attention until Haas waved for him to continue. “The orcs are on the move, sir!”

“How many?” asked Haas quietly, turning his attention towards the map spread across the one large table in his tent. It showed the Black Fire Pass and had the orc camp clearly marked, with a mass of lead pellets representing the enemy.

“All of them, sir!”

“That got Haas’ attention. What?”

“They’re all on the move, sir! The entire camp!”

“The full warband is moving?”

“Yes, sir!”

A rustle at the tent flap drew their attention, and Sergeant Druber stepped in. “Just heard, sir. Other scouts confirm it. Entire warband mobilised.”

“Show me,” Haas commanded, and sergeant and scout both stepped to the map. Alaric and the others followed.

“Travelling back towards us,” the scout explained, cupping his hand around the pellets and sliding them down through the Black Fire Pass. “At their current speed they’ll be here by midnight and here by dawn.” He indicated two spots on the map. Druber glanced at the locations and nodded his agreement. Haas considered, then selected one pellet and set it on the further location.

“We will take them here at first light,” he stated. “Druber, prepare the men. We attack with full force at dawn.”

Druber saluted and he and the scout left. Haas watched them go and his eyes trailed across Alaric, and then returned to him. “You and your men as well.”

“What?” Alaric stepped up to the map. “Commander, I appreciate what you’re doing here, but we have our own mission to complete.”

Haas shook his head. “You’ve found nothing, and may never find anything. I know how easily things can disappear in this pass. I need every man I can get tomorrow, and that includes yours.”

Alaric started to protest again, but Dietz stepped up beside him. “If the orcs have the statue, they’ll be carrying it with them,” he pointed out, causing his employer to pause. “They wouldn’t leave it behind.”

“And what if they already have it hidden somewhere safe?” Kristoff asked.

“Then we can find it at our leisure after the battle,” Adelrich replied. “It would be far easier to search if we weren’t looking over our shoulders every instant.”

Alaric considered this for a moment. “We are not soldiers,” he pointed out, deliberately ignoring Holst off to the side. “We can handle ourselves in a fight, certainly, but we are neither trained nor equipped for war.”

Haas frowned, and then nodded. “Fair enough. I’d ask that you guard this pass here, then.” He tapped a spot on the map, indicating a route that branched off from their selected location. “Make sure no one sneaks up on us from that side,” he continued. Then he glanced back up at Alaric and shrugged. “You will be off to one side and may have to do nothing more than scare off any orcs that look your way. Your presence will free up my men to concentrate on the attack.”

“Well, in that case,” Alaric bowed, “we are at your service, commander.” He straightened up again. “We will march with you at first light.”

“Good.” Haas favoured him with a small smile. “I know this is not why you’re here, but I appreciate your aid. Afterwards, assuming we are the victors, you will have my full support for your mission.”

Alaric nodded, then led the others from the tent. “Searching would be far faster with so many more eyes,” he admitted as they returned to their own tents to gather their gear. “Assuming we survive.”

Dietz slept fitfully that night, and was still shaking the sleep from his head the next morning as they gathered alongside Haas’ troops. He had never fought in a war before—fought, yes, even killed, but never marched. The fact that they were only guarding a side passage did not change the fact of riding into a major battle, and he knew they could find themselves in combat at any point. The idea of confronting so many enemies, so openly, unnerved him, and he could see many of his companions felt the same. Alaric was paler than usual and holding himself with brittle dignity, clearly unwilling to show his fear. Fastred was less concerned with appearances, the big man grumbling about foolish obedience and the idiocy of sending untrained men to their doom. Kristoff was quiet, though he held his reins so tightly Dietz thought they might snap, and Adelrich could not sit still. Only Kleiber showed no trace of concern.

Holst and his men were calm, of course, but they were trained for this.

“Not my kind of fight,” Adelrich admitted to Dietz as they rode out behind Haas’ soldiers. “Scouts aren’t usually deployed for a stationary defence—we’re better at striking from a distance and from cover, and then fading back to let the heavier troops mop up.” He laughed. “I keep wanting to duck up a trail and hide.”

“So do I,” Dietz said, knowing how his friend felt, “but Haas is no fool. He won’t throw lives away. He has a plan.”

Dietz’s words proved prophetic. Upon reaching the designated area, a space where the pass widened considerably, Haas called his men to a stop and began placing them to face the approaching warband. He acted without hesitation and it was clear that he had planned each placement well in advance. He sent the scouts up the cliffs on either side to rain arrows down upon the orcs. One contingent was placed in a shallow ravine along one side with orders to close in once the orcs were past, cutting off their escape. Alaric, Dietz, and the others on horseback were stationed across the mouth of a narrower path cut into the opposite wall.

Haas gathered everyone together, surveying them calmly. He turned towards the scouts. “You will fire as the orcs reach this point, halting them in their tracks.” His gaze moved to Sergeant Druber, who was sitting beside Alaric and leading their mounted soldiers. “You will lead the charge,” Haas told his sergeant bluntly. “Stay well back and out of sight. When you hear the archers firing, race back here and into the enemy’s midst. Do not stop—just cut through to the back. Then wheel around and strike from behind. We will strike from the front, forcing their attention back to us, and then the secondary force will hit from behind on the opposite corner. They will be divided, confused, and unsure where to focus. We will constrict and crush them between us.” He looked over to Alaric. “You and your companions will hold this pass and prevent anyone from attacking us through it. Go with Druber and stay out of the way. Then move to the mouth of the pass once he charges.” He swept his gaze across the assembled men. “Understood?”

“Yes, sir!” the men thundered back.

Haas nodded. “Good. To your positions, men, and remember, we fight to protect the Empire!”

“It’s a good plan,” Alaric commented as he followed Druber, who led him, Dietz, Kleiber, Kristoff, Fastred, Holst and his men to their assigned position. “Takes advantage of his assets and maximizes the enemy’s confusion; very efficient.”

“Will it work?” Dietz asked, reminded again that his employer had received military training from childhood. He was disappointed to see the look of resignation on the younger man’s face.

“No,” Alaric sighed. “The warband is too strong. Haas will damage them, certainly, and slow them, but he lacks the numbers to defeat them.”

“Then his men ride to their deaths?” Kristoff asked softly, an odd note in his voice.

Alaric nodded, shook his head and shrugged. “I don’t know. The attack will fail, unless something shifts the odds. But will they survive? Who can say?”

“Sigmar will defend us all,” Kleiber insisted, and Alaric laughed, though not meanly.

“Perhaps he will,” Fastred said, almost pleading. “After all, this is the site of his greatest victory. If his spirit defends his people anywhere, it is here. Perhaps he will protect us.”

“Perhaps,” Alaric agreed lightly, almost too easily. “We shall see.” Then they were in place and all conversation ceased as they calmed their horses, loosened their weapons, and readied themselves for battle.

The time stretched on, each second agonizingly long, yet it was less than an hour before Alaric heard the stomp of heavy feet and the deep pounding rhythm of a war drum. During that time he had closed his eyes and tried to recall everything he had learned as a child, every lesson his father and cousins, uncles and brothers had drilled into him. Despite Haas’ claim, he knew they would probably see combat themselves before the day was over, and the old training might finally prove useful, he thought as he dredged up long-forgotten instructions. Breathe slowly and carefully. Relax your hands and shake them to keep them loose. Grip your horse with your knees, not your ankles and strike for the head and neck. Watch their eyes, not their hands. Think one move ahead. It all blurred together, making his head swim, and he was almost grateful when the drumbeat pulled him back to the present. Opening his eyes he glanced beside him and saw Dietz there as always, the large axe Druber had provided clenched in both hands, Glouste safely tucked within his leather jacket.

“This is it,” Dietz said quietly, and Alaric could hear the near panic in his voice.

“No it isn’t,” he said, trying to keep his own voice from shaking. “We still have that statue to find, remember? And I’ve got those marks from that temple to translate. I can’t die before I’ve figured them out.”

His companion laughed as he’d hoped. “You would stave off Morr himself with that, wouldn’t you? ‘I can’t go yet, I haven’t solved that riddle!’”

“Of course,” Alaric replied, feeling better for helping his friend. “He’s a careful god, he’d understand.”

Whatever Dietz might have said in reply was drowned out by the sound of grunts, shouts and bellows, mixed with the beat of the drum. The orcs were near. Then the air was filled with a rushing sound like a heavy rain, and Alaric knew the scouts had launched their arrows—louder shouts and shrieks and the cessation of the drum confirmed they had struck.

“Let’s go!” Druber shouted, kicking his horse to a gallop and drawing his long sword as he dashed from the side passage. His soldiers were with him and Dietz and the other travellers followed close behind, but Druber was ahead by half a length as he barrelled out from the path and back into the valley.

The sight there almost stopped Alaric cold. The entire warband was arrayed before him. He had seen orcs before, but nothing like this. At least three hundred of them filled the valley, decked in mismatched plate, chain and leather, skulls and chains draped about them. Feathers and tattered cloth, and what looked like flesh waved above helms and caps, and the air was filled with spear tips, axe heads and swordblades. Many of the orcs had painted their thick hides with blood and mud, and other mixtures, creating red, brown and black patterns against their green skin. They were hideous, nearly as tall as a man, but far wider, with heavy, bestial features and long hairy arms ending in oversized, clawed hands. Many of them were milling about, uncertain, staring at the arrows protruding from many in their midst, but their weapons were still firmly clasped, and even as Druber sped towards them the orcs’ grunts turned from surprise and pain to rage.

Then the sergeant was upon them. “For the Empire!” he bellowed, lashing out with his blade and carving an orc’s head from its shoulders. His horse kicked another in the chest, knocking it aside so it slammed into two more and bore them to the ground. Orcs were everywhere, closing in on Druber, but then the first of his men reached him, cutting down an orc from behind, and the rest of the mounted soldiers were soon forming a tight cluster in the midst of the confusion. The soldiers laid about them with swords and axes, hacking through orcish spears before the weapons could be brought to bear.

They formed a spear of their own, Druber at the tip, and they pierced the orc ranks and drove through to the other side, though Alaric did not realise it until the sergeant and his men had gone a full length past the last orc. Then Druber was wheeling about, turning his steed back towards the orcs. Many of the creatures had turned, following the horses’ path, and were now regrouping to face them, bellowing curses and brandishing weapons eagerly.

Then a shout was heard off to the other side and from the front: “For the Empire!” And Haas’ men attacked. Alaric felt strangely elated as he watched Druber kick his horse back into a canter and return to the fray. His eyes drifted across an orc who seemed larger than the rest, and after a second Alaric’s brain registered the difference. The orc wasn’t larger, but simply closer. It was heading right for him, and now he realised at least twenty more were right behind it.

“Get ready,” he called to the others, drawing his rapier, though his words were barely more than a whisper. Not that it mattered, as they had noticed the approaching orcs as well.

“Aaagh!” Alaric shouted as the orcs reached him, though it came out more as a yelp. He slashed the first orc across the throat, its blood fountaining upward as it crumpled to the ground, a look of surprise slowly reaching its face. A second one was right behind it, and Alaric blocked a heavy axe blow that made his sword shiver and his arm shake. He couldn’t parry many other blows like that and his heart sank as the other orcs clustered closer, raging to reach him and tear him from his horse. Somewhere he thought he heard Morr laughing. Then he heard a surprising bellow behind him and felt more than saw a familiar presence at his back.

“Ulric!” It was Dietz, shouting like a true berserker and lashing out with the axe as he drove his own horse up alongside Alaric. Together the horses barrelled forward, kicking, biting and shoving, and the orcs fell back before them.

“Sigmar!” came a thundering cry behind them, and Kleiber was there, longsword clasped in both hands. His blade flashed about him as he rode, carving through orcs, and for an instant Alaric thought Sigmar would indeed be proud of the witch hunter’s prowess and devotion. Fastred was beside him, just far enough away to stay clear of the sword, and he was firing his crossbow at any orc in his way. Holst and his men brought up the rear, spears levelled to impale any orc within range. The orcs faltered, their momentum gone, and Alaric took advantage of the pause to skewer another through the throat. More than half the attacking force was dead already and they made short work of the others, until finally the pass was empty of foes again. Alaric rested his sword arm across the front of his saddle and leaned forward, forehead against his horse’s neck.

“Well, that worked better than expected,” he admitted quietly.

For a time, everything was confused. Dietz remembered watching the charge cut through the warband and emerge on the far side. He remembered Druber turning back towards them and attacking again, only with the rest of the Empire soldiers striking from the other side. The orcs were distracted, confused, just as Haas had planned. Their ranks broke, each orc fighting for himself, and Druber vanished in their midst, though from time to time Dietz caught glimpses of him.

Then a handful of orcs decided either to flee the fight or to circle around and attack from the side. They made for the pass, the very same one where Dietz and the others waited, and suddenly he was no longer a bystander in this war, but an unwilling participant. The orcs mobbed them, bellowing, grunting and howling, and Dietz lost track of the others, concentrating upon his borrowed axe and his horse, and whichever orc appeared before him. When a hand landed on his shoulder he shook it off. It landed again, and again he pulled free. Then it reached for his reins and he swung about, axe at the ready—to find Fastred there, crossbow in his lap, a shallow cut on one leg and a look of concern upon his face.

“Put that down,” the explorer insisted, and Dietz let the axe sag to his side, realising that most of the orcs were already dead. He watched as Kleiber and Kristoff dispatched the last two.

“We won,” he said in a daze.

“Never mind that,” Fastred told him. “Look.” He gestured towards the mouth of the pass and beyond, where Haas and his men were still battling the bulk of the orc warband. The Empire soldiers looked to be holding their own, but Dietz could see that the orcs were still strong as well.

Dietz nodded. “Yes, so? It’s a war. We’re in it.”

Fastred shook his head. “No, look at the ground.”

Dietz looked again, trying to see the ground through the feet and hooves, and flashing blades. “It’s rock. So?”

“Look at the blood.”

There was blood everywhere. It sprayed in droplets, gushed in torrents, flowed in rivulets—wait. He looked again, trying to follow that last sight. Yes, the blood on the ground near them was flowing in a clear stream, away from their narrow passage and towards the front of the fight. Quickly he edged his horse forward a few steps, still watching. Now he could see more of the battle site and he studied the ground as much as he could from his vantage point. After a minute he was sure. The blood along the side was also pooling and flowing, towards the middle. The other side was the same, at least as best he could tell from here, and at last he glanced up at Fastred.

“It’s all flowing towards one spot.”

“Yes.” The portly explorer nodded. “I downed an orc—good shot, right in the throat—and saw it rushing past him as he fell. Then I noticed another stream of blood, a little way away, angling in the same direction.”

Dietz met the other man’s eyes and knew they were thinking the same thing. “The sacrifice.”

Fastred nodded. “The orcs drew Haas out to this spot. They wanted the fight here—that’s why they reached this point at dawn, knowing he’d prefer to attack then. They’re feeding the statue.”

Dietz glanced around, searching for signs of their friends. “We need to gather the others.”

“What about the war? We were told to guard this pass.”

Dietz shook his head. “We did our part. It’s up to Haas now. We need to concentrate on our own mission.”

It took some time to gather the others because a second group of orcs had charged them while Dietz and Fastred were off to the side, and they turned back to find their friends locked in battle once more. Kleiber was gleefully slaughtering orcs and only permitted himself to be dragged away when Dietz told him the statue was nearby. Alaric was easier to convince, but harder to reach; he was in the centre of the conflict, and only Holst’s presence nearby had kept him from being overrun. Adelrich was up on the cliff, but picked his way down as soon as he caught sight of Dietz signalling him. Kristoff was fighting furiously just beyond the passage, orcs on all sides, and it took Kleiber, Dietz and Holst to drag him clear. Finally they had killed or driven away the orcs and pulled their horses off to one side, where Fastred explained what he’d discovered.

“That’s it!” Alaric was thrilled. “It’s got to be!” He turned to Adelrich. “If the blood’s flowing down, the statue has to be beneath. That means they got it down there somehow. We need to find the way in.”

“It could be anywhere along either side,” Kristoff pointed out.

“It could,” Alaric agreed, “but let’s hope not. We have to find it before it receives enough blood to open the portal.” He glanced at Fastred and Adelrich. “You two know more about rocks and paths than the rest of us combined. Is there any way to narrow it down?”

Fastred thought about it. “The rock is the same on both sides,” he commented, “so that’s no help. This type of rock often develops cracks and caves, so there may be many such openings around here, but not all of them will lead to the right place.” He shrugged. “I suppose that’s not particularly useful.”

“It’s honest,” Alaric reassured him, “and it’s better that we know our real chances.”

“I’ve seen several openings along these cliffs already,” Adelrich added. “Most of them stopped just beyond the surface, though, so at least we can eliminate many of them easily.” He glanced up along the sides of their passage, and then out towards the main pass, where the battle still raged. “I suppose I’d best search along here first. If it isn’t here we’ll have to venture out and check the cliffs as best we can.”

Alaric nodded. “We’ll do our best to cover you,” he assured the scout. Adelrich nodded and clambered up the rough side of the passage until he reached the top. He perched on a small ledge and began examining that side. After perhaps an hour he climbed back down.

“Nothing here that leads deeper than a few feet,” he told the others. “It has to be out there somewhere.”

“All right.” Alaric kicked his horse into motion, walking it towards the passage entrance. “Let’s go.”

The others followed him and they eased their way out into the pass. Once they were a few feet out, Adelrich slipped out behind them and began searching the cliff on that side. He examined every opening he found, ducking his head in when necessary and twice disappearing inside before returning. Each time he shook his head. The others stayed as close behind him as they could, skirting the larger battle and picking off any orcs who ventured near them.

A short way beyond the battle, back the way the orcs had come, Adelrich was heading towards a crack when he saw an orc emerging from another gap a little farther down. Quickly the scout pulled his bow, strung it, nocked an arrow and fired, taking the orc in the throat. Before the body had fallen, Adelrich raced towards it and disappeared into the rocks where it had emerged. A moment later he reappeared and waved the others over.

“It’s a cave,” he told them when they reached him, standing half inside a wide crack. “It goes down and around, probably beneath the valley floor.” He grinned. “Signs of something heavy being dragged along.”

“Let’s go.” Alaric hopped down from his horse and slapped its flank, sending it racing down the pass past the cave. He hoped all the orcs were already here, leaving none to molest his poor mount as it fled. The others followed suit, their horses eagerly taking the opportunity to flee the battle so close behind them.

The passage was so narrow that Kleiber and Fastred had difficulty squeezing through in places, though Dietz pointed out orcs would have the same problem.

Once inside, they lit the torches Adelrich pulled from his pack, and followed the scout as he led them down a twisting path. The marks along the floor were clear in the flickering torchlight—something large and heavy had scraped through here. They passed several branching passages, but kept to the marks, and finally emerged in an oblong cavern well below the ground.

The first thing Dietz noticed as he stepped in was the height. Along much of the tunnel he had been forced to crouch to keep from banging his head against the ceiling. Here, he could straighten up and even reach above him without touching rock. The second thing he noticed was the size of the cavern. It could fit all of them easily along one side, making it larger than Haas’ command tent by a significant margin. The third thing he noticed was the protrusions. This cavern was the size of a large room, but it was not empty. It had its own furniture, rock spurs jutting out along the wall, springing up from the floor and hanging from the ceiling, as if someone had festooned the place with ribbons, garlands and drapes, and then transformed them all to stone.

The fourth thing he noticed was the statue.

It was right in front of them, perhaps forty feet away—and nearly ten feet up. The centre of the room was thick with those strange rock projections, jutting every which way, and somehow the statue had been placed in their midst. It was held well above the ground, supported by several loops of stone from both ceiling and floor, and only the faint reddish tint distinguished it from the grey stone around it. He could only see its base, besides—the head and shoulders had been inserted in a crack in the ceiling, wedging it firmly in place. Drops of blood dripped down it, raising oddly bright streaks along its surfaces. Clearly the centre of the depression was just above that crack.

“We’ve found it!” Alaric had eyes only for the statue, as did Kristoff. Fortunately, Adelrich was peering around the chamber, raising his torch high to see the other side. His quiet hiss alerted them, as did the sound of his sword sliding from its scabbard.

“Show yourself!” Kleiber shouted, raising his pistol, but the command proved unnecessary. They heard a barked order even as the witch hunter issued his demand. A moment later they all saw what Adelrich had seen, as a dozen orc warriors stomped into view on the far side of the cavern. They had their own weapons at the ready and hurled themselves at the party with harsh cries. Kleiber leaped to meet them, Kristoff and Dietz right behind him.