02 - Taint of Evil by Neil McIntosh - (ebook by Undead)

cradle. As if on cue, the sun rose
from behind the crest of rock, suddenly and dramatically bathing the valley in a
flood of warm, amber light.
    The land below was swaddled in early morning fog. Through the haze, the
scattered spires and towers of a town or city were just visible, rising up out
of the mists like ships riding a golden ocean.
    “Behold,” Baecker announced. “Sigmarsgeist.”
    From on high it was impossible to guess the exact size of the citadel, but it
was undoubtedly big. Stefan’s travels had taken him from Altdorf, at the heart
of the Empire, to the mighty city of Middenheim, and to Erengrad, at the western
edge of the lands of Kislev. Sigmarsgeist might not yet rival them, but this was
no mountain village.
    Stefan cast his eyes acrossa complex pattern of roads and streets, a
dense forest of buildings of all shapes and sizes, built from flint and stone. A
cluster of tall, domed structures set high upon the northern face of
Sigmarsgeist dominated the view of citadel. Beyond the domes the streets were
laid out in tiers, shelving down towards the southern end of the citadel. It
seemed all of Sigmarsgeist was built upon sloping ground, with the domed
buildings—which Stefan took to be a temple or a palace of some kind—at its
uppermost point. The sun began to burn away the early mist, cutting through the
chilly shroud to glint off the slate roofs of hundreds of separate dwellings,
halls and workshops.
    There had to be a thousand souls living within those walls, maybe many more,
Stefan estimated. And it was clear that Sigmarsgeist was still growing. At least
a third of the citadel was still being built, with row upon row of new dwellings
standing in various states of construction.
    Stefan was puzzled that he had had no previous knowledge of such a place. The
day before he had checked upon his map; there had been no mention of
Sigmarsgeist, nor of any other place of comparable size. The map that they were
using was undoubtedly crude, but Stefan was still surprised to find it missing
such a detail.
    “You are impressed?” Hans asked of him.
    “Yes,” Stefan readily agreed. He was impressed. If nothing else, Sigmarsgeist
bore ample testimony to the ambition and craft of man.
    He shaded the sun from his eyes, peering down into the valley. He tried to
compare Sigmarsgeist with the great cities of the Empire, cities such as
Middenheim, a mighty, fortress sat high upon its plateau of rock. In many ways
Sigmarsgeist was the mirror opposite of the city of the White Wolf. Where Middenheim sat high and impregnable, nestling amongst the clouds,
Sigmarsgeist was buried at the very foot of the valley, hemmed in by towering
walls of rock. It seemed—to Stefan’s eye at least—a strange choice.
    “Why was the city built here?” he asked, “so deep within the valley?”
    Baecker did not answer the question directly. “The site was carefully chosen,”
he said. “There were many considerations.”
    “Such as?”
    “The Guides may wish to tell you more of that,” Baecker answered.
    “The Guides?”
    Baecker raised one hand. “Come. Save your questions for later. Sigmarsgeist
is waiting.”
    Bea glanced at him, an inquisitive look stealing over her features.
    “Was there something else?” Baecker asked her.
    “Yes,” Bea replied, uncertainly. “That is, no, not directly. I was just
curious to hear more—more of how the citadel came to be built here.”
    Baecker nodded, and smiled. “Later, perhaps.” He took up the reins and
started his horse down the stony path that would lead them to the citadel below.
    “Let’s move on,” he said. Baecker gestured again at the path that wound down
the hillside ahead. “Sigmarsgeist waits to welcome you as its honoured guests.”
    “Lead on,” Stefan told him. “For we are equally honoured to be invited
amongst you.”
     
    Sigmarsgeist took shape as they followed the path down the mountain. The
descent became more shallow as,