ONE by Unknown

Author:Unknown
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
Published: 2010-12-27T17:46:30.954000+00:00

Before anyone could stop her, the grafin ran out of the bedchamber, calling joyously. 'Old man! Thank Sigmar you've come! My husband awaits you!' 'Grafin! Stop!' barked von Volgen, and hurried after her. Gotrek was right behind him, pulling his axe from his back, and Felix, Kat and Classen swiftly followed. The other young officers fell in behind them, the handgun-ner and artilleryman drawing their backswords, and the spearman brandishing his spear with trembling hands. Draeger, however, stayed where he was, staring at the ceiling with wide eyes while his men huddled around him. In his chair, Bosendorfer continued to stare at nothing as Sergeant Leffler whispered urgently in his ear. The escape tunnel," murmured Classen as they trooped into the entry hall. The madwoman has let them through Karl Franz's escape tunnel.' As Gotrek and von Volgen strode for the broken doors, a rank wind blew in at them, carrying with it a graveyard stench that overpowered the room's incense and made Kat and Felix choke and retch. 'Old man!' came Avelein's voice from the corridor. 'Old man, this way-' Then suddenly her glad cries became a wail of abject terror, which was immediately eclipsed by a high, crazed laugh. Felix groaned as he heard it, all his fears confirmed. But as he and the others followed Gotrek and von Volgen into the corridor, it wasn't Hans the Hermit that was waiting for them, but a figure infinitely more terrifying. Grafin Avelein lay shrieking at the base of the flight of stairs that led up to Karl Franz's private apartments as more than two dozen enormous, barbarically armoured wights clanked down towards her in a verdigrised tide, and a sinister figure on the landing above laughed like a jackal. The figure looked nothing like the old hermit who had led them from Brasthof to the Barren Hills. His grin was not toothless, his shoulders were not hunched, nor were his robes and beard black with filth. Instead a tall, cadaverous sorcerer in a peaked hat and long grey robes grinned down at them, a gnarled, skull-topped staff clutched in one taloned hand. Gone was Hans the Her�mit's sagging scabrous flesh. Gone were his weak, watery eyes. In their place was skin like scarred leather stretched over bones as sharp as blades, and eyes like black pits of hate, five hundred years deep. Only his wice was the same. Greetings, my masters!' he said. 'Are you not pleased to see old Hans again? Do you not like the bits of bone ad bronze I found in those old tombs?' Half the armoured wights trampled over Grafin AgJeJE and continued down the stairs to the ground fare but the other half charged straight for Gotrek and the others, green-fired eye sockets blazing. Gotrek roared a wordless challenge and sprang to meet them, and his first axe swing sheared through the armour and bones of the leader like they were so much cheese and chalk. His second cut the legs out from under two.

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