coming to the surface as it scrabbled to its knees. Its hands flew down to Gremlynne’s neck, sinking into the pig’s dense throat as von Korden regained his feet. With a roar, the witch hunter grabbed a splintered chair leg from the floor and slammed the sharp end right through his dead lieutenant’s back. The corpse shuddered for a moment and lay still.
Von Korden spun round to the Sons, but they had already despatched the animated cadavers that had once been Steig and Freidricksen. The whole altercation had taken less than half a minute.
‘You two, check upstairs,’ said von Korden, clutching his bruised arm. The Sons nodded in assent, moving past him and as they climbed up into the stairwell. Once they were gone, the witch hunter moved over to Unholdt and, with a great effort, rolled his body to one side. Gremlynne looked up at him with one watery eye, her front legs broken and her breath hissing in ragged gasps through the bloody ruin of her throat.
‘Oh no,’ said von Korden, anguish flooding his soul. ‘No, Gremlynne!’ He cradled the dying pig in his arms, stroking her ears as she wheezed bubbles of blood from her snout. ‘Not you as well,’ he said, trying to stem the red rivulets that poured from her neck. ‘Hang on, old girl, I’ll… I’ll get some bandages or something,’ he said, the words catching in his throat. He laid her down gently, frantically scanning for something to use as a tourniquet. A low rattle came from behind him, and with an effort of will he turned back.
He was too late. The pig had breathed her last.
‘You bastards!’ cried von Korden, kicking the stonework of the well so hard a part of it crumbled down into the darkness. He threw the shattered table leg across the room, and it clattered in the corner. ‘You’ll pay for what you did to us!’ he shouted, tears stinging in his eyes. He slumped into what remained of his armchair, hand questing for the cameo portrait that hung next to his heart. With his wife’s pig gone, the necklace was all that was left of the old days. It was the last remnant of the farm they had loved so much. Even Alberich von Korden – the man he had been – had died a long time ago.
‘Lynn, my dear,’ he gasped as he pried open the jewelled image, ‘Oh, Lynn, I’m sorry… I’m sorry I was too late to save the girls.’ Alberich shut his eyes hard, fighting to stay in control as a decade of suppressed emotion roiled inside. ‘I’m so sorry I never told you that I needed you, my love.’
His shoulders shook, but no sound would come.
‘I’ll make them pay, Lynn,’ said Alberich to the female portrait lying in his bloodstained hand. ‘I promise you.’
There came a cascade of footfalls from the stairway, and Weissman pushed his way in through the curtain.
‘Trouble?’ he asked.
Von Korden was standing in the middle of the room, facing away from the stairwell as he fussed with his pistols. He did not turn around.
‘No,’ he said, with a sigh. ‘Just… I just thought I saw one of them twitch, that’s all.’
‘Right,’ said Weissman, ‘Well, glad we got the bastards before they got us. Nothing much on either floor, up there. Bit o’ grub in the cupboards. You want to send the message whilst the going’s good?’
‘Yes. Get some lamp oil on the signal cogs, goose fat, whatever you can find. I’ll be up in a minute.’
‘Right you are,’ said Weissman, heading back upstairs.
Von Korden took a long and ragged breath, as deep as he could. He held it for a long time before heading upstairs to the battlements.
THE COLLEGIUM OF LIGHT
Templehof, east of the Vale of Darkness, 2522
There it was again. A glimmer of witch-light, tiny but distinct, emanating from the peaks on the other side of the vale.
Jovi Sunscryer of the Light Order squinted into the gloom, his heart quickening at the prospect that someone might be using Konigstein’s brass sentinel to communicate. He ran a hand across the brown leather of his pate
Von Korden spun round to the Sons, but they had already despatched the animated cadavers that had once been Steig and Freidricksen. The whole altercation had taken less than half a minute.
‘You two, check upstairs,’ said von Korden, clutching his bruised arm. The Sons nodded in assent, moving past him and as they climbed up into the stairwell. Once they were gone, the witch hunter moved over to Unholdt and, with a great effort, rolled his body to one side. Gremlynne looked up at him with one watery eye, her front legs broken and her breath hissing in ragged gasps through the bloody ruin of her throat.
‘Oh no,’ said von Korden, anguish flooding his soul. ‘No, Gremlynne!’ He cradled the dying pig in his arms, stroking her ears as she wheezed bubbles of blood from her snout. ‘Not you as well,’ he said, trying to stem the red rivulets that poured from her neck. ‘Hang on, old girl, I’ll… I’ll get some bandages or something,’ he said, the words catching in his throat. He laid her down gently, frantically scanning for something to use as a tourniquet. A low rattle came from behind him, and with an effort of will he turned back.
He was too late. The pig had breathed her last.
‘You bastards!’ cried von Korden, kicking the stonework of the well so hard a part of it crumbled down into the darkness. He threw the shattered table leg across the room, and it clattered in the corner. ‘You’ll pay for what you did to us!’ he shouted, tears stinging in his eyes. He slumped into what remained of his armchair, hand questing for the cameo portrait that hung next to his heart. With his wife’s pig gone, the necklace was all that was left of the old days. It was the last remnant of the farm they had loved so much. Even Alberich von Korden – the man he had been – had died a long time ago.
‘Lynn, my dear,’ he gasped as he pried open the jewelled image, ‘Oh, Lynn, I’m sorry… I’m sorry I was too late to save the girls.’ Alberich shut his eyes hard, fighting to stay in control as a decade of suppressed emotion roiled inside. ‘I’m so sorry I never told you that I needed you, my love.’
His shoulders shook, but no sound would come.
‘I’ll make them pay, Lynn,’ said Alberich to the female portrait lying in his bloodstained hand. ‘I promise you.’
There came a cascade of footfalls from the stairway, and Weissman pushed his way in through the curtain.
‘Trouble?’ he asked.
Von Korden was standing in the middle of the room, facing away from the stairwell as he fussed with his pistols. He did not turn around.
‘No,’ he said, with a sigh. ‘Just… I just thought I saw one of them twitch, that’s all.’
‘Right,’ said Weissman, ‘Well, glad we got the bastards before they got us. Nothing much on either floor, up there. Bit o’ grub in the cupboards. You want to send the message whilst the going’s good?’
‘Yes. Get some lamp oil on the signal cogs, goose fat, whatever you can find. I’ll be up in a minute.’
‘Right you are,’ said Weissman, heading back upstairs.
Von Korden took a long and ragged breath, as deep as he could. He held it for a long time before heading upstairs to the battlements.
THE COLLEGIUM OF LIGHT
Templehof, east of the Vale of Darkness, 2522
There it was again. A glimmer of witch-light, tiny but distinct, emanating from the peaks on the other side of the vale.
Jovi Sunscryer of the Light Order squinted into the gloom, his heart quickening at the prospect that someone might be using Konigstein’s brass sentinel to communicate. He ran a hand across the brown leather of his pate
Similar Books
