Black-Eyed Saint (Warhammer Horror) by Dale Lucas

Author:Dale Lucas [Lucas, Dale]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2023-03-11T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TEN

Runar hurried back to their quarters with the stolen diary page in his pocket, so eager to confer with his companions that he almost broke into a run. Of course, he’d look like a fool, racing through the castle’s corridors and up its twisting stairs, so he’d maintained his composure by great force of will.

That forced composure dissolved in an instant when Runar emerged from the stairwell and saw the door to their chambers ajar. Several oddments – sheets of unused parchment, a few feathers – littered the corridor outside. The small feathers turned lazily in a breeze from within.

He dashed the last few steps from the stairs and threw the chamber door wide.

Oskar sat slumped in a chair by the table dominating the centre of the room. For a moment – only a moment – Runar hoped that the broad-shouldered soldier was back in his cups, perhaps trying to ease the shock of some terrible revelation gained during his reconnaissance through the castle. But Oskar’s chin was on his chest, his eyes glassy and staring. Blood painted the big soldier’s stubble. A terrible, seeping wound was visible just to the left of his sternum, an enormous, half-coagulated bloodstain dyeing the man’s brown doublet wine-red.

Runar felt vaguely as though he should mourn the man, though to be honest, he’d barely known him. Besides, there was no time. Oskar’s corpse wasn’t the only ominous sight in those rooms.

Their chambers had been ransacked: weapons and ammunition stolen, packs and saddlebags rifled, provisions, camp tools, personal journals and letters strewn everywhere. Worse, the cages that had housed their messenger birds were now smashed and broken upon the floor, their former tenants nowhere in sight save for a last few feathers.

They set them free, he thought, staring at the two smashed cages. Already, those birds are winging their way back to Gothghul Hollow. To Lord Aaric. To Edrea.

Lord Aaric gave us two birds, knowing that we might have to release them suddenly, with little warning, to send word of the nature of our plight. Now that both have been released, what will Lord Aaric do? Take it as a sign of our deaths, perhaps? Or some horrible accident that set both birds free at once?

It doesn’t matter, does it? The why and the what are immat­erial. Lord Aaric will receive those birds and come at once, with aid. Edrea will accompany him. Who knows how many soldiers they’ll bring?

And they’ll be marching into a trap.

Just as we did.

Runar heard his own, distractingly loud pulse in his ears, thumping like a rapid-fire drum. He blinked fresh, burning sweat from his eyes and swept his dark hair away from his face.

No blood, no corpses other than Oskar. That means Apothecor Baringwald and Tiberius never returned. Where are they, then? Already dead? Locked up in the dungeons?

Think, you fool, think! What’s your best course of action? Where to go? What to do?

‘Arm yourself,’ he muttered. ‘Get out of here, now.’

He had only a pair of daggers on his person, one sheathed at his belt, one hidden in his boot.

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