Razumov's Tomb (14 page)

“My men have searched the surrounding hills too,” said the knight as he approached. “They found nothing.”

Gabriel lifted his head and his hood tumbled back, revealing his skeletal face. “He’s gone.”

The knight clenched his jaw. “Begging your pardon, magister, but I do not see why he would desert us when we were so close to home. Why would he abandon the order? Why would he leave the Celestial College without a Grand Astromancer?”

Gabriel turned towards the reiksgraf, his face as blank as ever. He held out his hand and opened his fist, revealing the gold medallion. “He has not.”

“His comet? How did you—?”

“He gave it to me,” interrupted Gabriel, hearing the suspicion in the knight’s tone.

There was such pain and confusion in Gabriel’s voice that the reiksgraf shook his head. “Sorry, magister, I didn’t mean to accuse you of anything.” He ran a trembling hand over his crooked, bruised neck.

Gabriel peered at him through the early morning gloom. “You need to see a chirurgeon. You’re wounded.”

The reiksgraf looked down at his ruined body and laughed, despite the obvious pain it caused him. “That I am, magister. That I am.”

He waved his sword at the medallion dangling from Gabriel’s fingers. “Will you wear it?”

Gabriel studied the gold comet in silence for a few seconds. Then he looked around at the butchered remains of Schwarzbach. After a while, he shrugged. “It’s not for me to decide.”

“Reiksgraf!” cried a voice.

The general turned to see that one of his men was stumbling away from the ruined tower. It looked like any other ruin now, a broken stump of history rising up from a muddy field. Most of the stones had disintegrated as it crashed to earth and the rest had collapsed into a pitiful heap. Several of the knights who made it back to the Empire only lived long enough to realise that they had been crushed by the force of their return.

The man struggling across the crater was clutching something in his hands.

“What is it?” snapped the reiksgraf as the knight approached.

The knight held the object up into the moonlight. “Some kind of staff.”

Gabriel frowned at the sight of the object. It was gnarled, covered in spines and topped with a crescent of black horns.

“Is it Caspar’s?” asked the reiksgraf, taking it from the soldier and peering at it.

Gabriel shook his head. “I do not recognise it.”

The reiksgraf ran his fingers over the horns then snatched his hand back with a curse. “It’s sharp,” he laughed, sucking a bead of blood from his fingertip. He handed the staff back to the soldier. “I suggest you keep it safe until we get back to Altdorf.”

As spring crept towards summer, the skies cleared, the winds dropped and the plagues finally ceased. The foul humours began to disperse and the swarms of beetles fell silent. As Morrslieb waned, the sun reasserted its dominance, scorching away the shrivelled remains of cuttlefish and allowing the Empire’s weary citizens back to their ruined homes.

In the weeks that followed, strange tales continued to circulate. A pretty young woman in Ostland claimed that some of the local cats never fully lost their ability to speak, and formed themselves into a society, terrorising the local people with strange, lilting songs about blackbirds. Her tales were disregarded by most, and attributed to the vast quantities of malmsey wine she had consumed during the plagues, but a local wizard by the name of Tylo Sulzer moved in with the confused girl, donating several months of his own time in an effort to prove or disprove her story. In Reikland, there was a persistent rumour concerning the spectre of a Kislevite princess. She was seen on several occasions, stricken with grief and calling out for her lost love. Her pitiful cries are said to haunt the hills north of Altdorf to this day.

When the Emperor heard of the strange events in Schwarzbach, he realised immediately that such heroics must be rewarded. He decreed that one of the survivors, a wizard by the name of Gabriel Bloch, be inducted as head of the Celestial College. He also decided that one of the knights who was present, Reiksgraf Niclas von Südenhorst, should be rewarded with a place in his own royal honour guard. Unfortunately, the reiksgraf was never able to enjoy his new position. Within a few weeks of his return to the capital, he was struck down by a mysterious illness and died soon after. Some claim that the terrible epidemics that ravaged the province that summer were connected in some way to his death, but the Grand Astromancer has always vehemently denied this.

—Wolfgang Spitteler’s
Plagues and Portents

—A History of Celestial Magic

Scanning, formatting and
proofing by Flandrel,
additional formatting and
proofing by Undead.