Dawnbringer Chronicles Part V –

The Spymaster’s Deal

In the latest thrilling short story from the Mortal Realms, Armand Callis and
Hanniver Toll of the Order of Azyr regroup with Zane Delorius, the Hidden Hand
of Hammerhal Aqsha. Though ever more problems beset this mighty city, the
Conclave still wishes to launch a Dawnbringer Crusade.
The crack of Hanniver Toll’s gun sent reverberations through the alleyway.
It was swiftly followed by the sticky splash of blood and grey matter hitting
stone. The witch hunter blew smoke from the barrel and muttered a quick
prayer to Sigmar before slipping it back into its holster.

Next to him, Callis let out a soft whistle.

‘Nice shot. How did you know that was the last of them?’

Toll knelt down by the fresh corpse crumpled at the alley’s end and tugged
the fabric of his sleeve up. Below the hem, a cluster of three infected circles
were stacked in a festering brand. Yellowed pus oozed from the uncovered
skin, the smell of which caused even the stalwart Toll to recoil.

‘When he ran, I noticed it on his arm,’ Toll said, straightening up and

dusting himself off. ‘I knew he wouldn’t leave the areas where the
Shudderblight was rampant – not when plague worshippers are striking at
the heart of Aqsha – so disguise was more likely. Then it was just a matter
of watching the wrists of those matching his profile in the industrial zones.’

A clatter of applause rang out at the entrance of the alley, bringing the
moment of camaraderie to a sudden halt. Toll stiffened as he turned, hand
flying back to his gun. Next to him, Callis unsheathed his old army-issued
blade.

An aelven woman clad in Ghyranite green robes stood at the end of the
alleyway. Callis lowered his sword, but Toll remained ready to shoot. He
didn’t recognise this newcomer. There was every possibility she could be
part of the cult as well.

‘Congratulations on your successful hunt, Armand Callis, Hanniver Toll.

Master Delorius wishes to speak with you again,’ the lady said. Toll relaxed
his shoulders, but kept a hand on his gun. Perhaps they were to receive
some sort of compensation for their mission. That said, where the Hidden
Hand was concerned, it was equally likely he might want to silence them
over the whole cult affair.

‘Couldn’t he have come here himself?’ muttered Callis as the two made
their way towards her. ‘That old co—’
Toll stepped on his foot as they walked. His friend hissed a breath through
his teeth.

‘Certainly, my lady. Just let us clean up here and we’ll be right with you.’

Zane Delorius did not meet the pair in the luxurious chambers that were
his by right as Hammerhal Aqsha’s so-called Hidden Hand. If the rumours
were true, those were occupied only by silence. Instead, their aelven guide
led them deeper into the capillaries of the Black Dust Alleys, past bulging,
smoke-belching factories and through squat districts full of workers’
homes. They were eventually taken down a set of stairs tucked below a
smoke-blasted domicile’s salt cellar.

A candlelit chamber opened out before them, surprisingly large and clearly
retrofitted for the Hidden Hand’s needs. A pair of black-clad guards were
stationed behind the door, causing Toll’s fingers to itch for his sword. A
mahogany desk spread with moth-bitten maps sat in the centre of the
room, surrounded by a cluster of chairs.

Delorius himself cut a sharp figure seated upon one as he pored over the
maps. Toll could see the man’s eyes skimming quickly across the
parchment from behind his mask. Next to him sat a figure Toll didn’t
recognise, though they looked out of place – a cloud of untameable curls
partially hid the face below, and the Aqshian Collegiate robes they wore
were hidden under a layer of volcanic ash. How old they were, or whether
they were man or woman, was completely lost under their frazzled
appearance.

‘So, the Shudderblight Cult has been decimated thanks to your hard work,’
Delorius began. ‘Hammerhal Aqsha owes the two of you a great debt.
Striking out against this illness is vital to cauterise public unease.’
‘Didn’t you used to have a different assistant?’ Callis asked, gesturing at
their guide.

‘Most regretfully, he began exhibiting signs of the Shudderblight,’ Delorius

said. Although his face was obscured, his voice remained constantly
cheerful. ‘Had to be put to the flame. So I heard.’

‘And you were alright with that?’ Callis pressed. Toll put a warning hand on
his friend’s arm, but he continued. ‘Do you really condone the Archmage
Collegium’s order to burn anyone on even the slightest suspicion? People
are torching their neighbours in the streets!’

‘Questioning Conclave decisions in front of the Hidden Hand is possibly not

your wisest move, Armand Callis.’

Delorius’s voice was even, but Toll knew a threat when he heard one. He
eyed the exit, wondering if there was another way he could get his friend
out if—

‘But you’re right. Even I cannot go against a majority vote. However, we

may have more pressing problems,’ Delorius continued, beckoning forth
the woman in green. ‘My young helper has been listening to the rumours
of Hammerhal Ghyra as of late. Apparently entire settlements have been
deserted. Wall daubings proclaim fealty to a ‘Summerking’. We still do not
understand what is causing this mass exodus.’

‘And yet, I have heard whisperings that the Grand Conclave wishes to send
forth a crusade,’ Toll narrowed his eyes. ‘We crushed as many cultists as we
could, but the disease still lingers. We are so undermanned that duardin
engineers fight the waves of grots pouring into our factories. Does the
Conclave still intend to launch this ridiculous ‘Twin-Tailed Crusade’ just to
prove that it can?’
Before Delorius could offer a well-tailored reply, the messy figure to his left
rose to their feet.

‘This is what I was telling him! Zane, we cannot go ahead with this. If these
reports are true, the geomantic nexuses are winking out one after the
other. Keep stacking crises like this and the city will be in turmoil without a
single soul to defend it, and—’

‘Calm yourself, young Val. You needn’t panic our guests when they’re here
to be rewarded for a job well done.’

Callis shook his head. ‘Let them speak, by all means. Who are you, exactly?’

‘Val Petras, Collegiate arcanogeologist, at your service.’ Val rose and

bobbed a little bow before crouching over their spread of maps. They
swept one dirty finger in an arch over eastern Capillaria.

‘I was giving Zane the report on my findings in the east,’ they explained.
‘The geomantic ley lines that criss-cross our realm are in a state of disarray.
According to my calxcite geometer, the points where they meet are
flickering and dying – and this pattern of destruction is leading slowly
towards Aqsha.’

‘There’s no guarantee this will even affect us,’ Delorius said.

‘We cannot allow an unknown threat capable of destroying leylines to reach

the city. Our power, our industry, our defences – all are reliant on
geomantic energy.’
Toll rubbed his temples. This was madness. The situation in Ghyra was
stable, but the surrounding settlements were crumbling or mysteriously
vanishing. Aqsha was under threat from Shudderblight, tunnel-dwelling
grots, and even its own pyromaniacal people. If the young arcanogeologist
was correct, they could also add an unknown strongpoint-smashing threat
to that list. This was the worst possible time to send out a crusade.

‘This is the best possible time to send out a crusade,’ announced Delorius.
‘The people are in despair. They are convinced we are fighting a battle we
cannot win. We must remind them of the infallible glory of Hammerhal.
Besides,’ he added, a strain of mirth creeping into his level tone, ‘would you
like to try saying no to Tahlia Vedra?’

Toll cast a heavy look at Callis, and then back at the map, upon which Val
was still drawing a spider-web of lines. Although the job was done, one
thing was becoming increasingly clear: they wouldn’t be going home
anytime soon.