Chris Wright - Age of Sigmar - Omnibus

The whole of the inner keep was one large, domed chamber with but two apertures: the gate, and a slit window glazed with amethyst in the eastern wall. A rubble of lead bricks was scattered across the ground. Above it, chained by blood iron and bonds of pure magic, floated Ghal Maraz, Sigmar’s own hammer, and relic of the world-that-was.

A coven of nine daemons sought to take it for their master, and it was from them that the chanting came. They turned one by one to glare at the Stormcast Eternals, wizened faces full of hatred and amusement, knowing faces that carelessly harboured the wisdom of ages. There were eight of lesser order, great in their own right, but not so powerful as the ninth, a two-headed horror, taller than the rest and shrouded in dark majesty.

‘You cannot stop what has become. The end is in sight! Come in, come in! All are welcome in the Crystal Labyrinth of my master,’ cawed the two-headed greater daemon.

The Eldritch Fortress lurched, sending the Stormcast Eternals staggering. Slowly, it began to rise towards the Shardgate.

‘Get the hammer!’ yelled Vandus. ‘Bring them down!’

The Stormcasts charged. The greater daemons came down to do battle, and all the while Kairos laughed.

Vandus hurled himself at a Lord of Change. To his left, five of his warriors were cut down by a bolt of dark fire. Others exploded, disappeared or were transformed. The air wavered and the scene changed. Vandus staggered, finding himself in a quiet forest. He spun about, looking for his foe. A sudden coldness gripped his legs, but when he looked he could see nothing amiss. ‘Do not trust your senses,’ he said to himself. ‘They cannot help you. Trust Sigmar.’

He shut his eyes, letting the vision-fugue come down on him. In his mind’s eye the interior of the chamber overlaid itself upon the forest. The room was ablaze with magic. Some of his warriors staggered about, as lost as he. Only the Celestial Vindicators seemed unaffected, and in his state of altered perception, Vandus could see how the fury in them burned hot enough to sear away the magic set against them. A bird-headed daemon shrieked as enchanted blades cut into it and laid it low.

His own opponent stared at him with dead eyes, its hand waving up and down slowly. Cruel humour was writ upon its features.

It does not know I can see it, thought Vandus. With a great effort of will, he called upon his distant body to obey him. With a mighty heave, he swung Heldensen. His limbs felt feeble, as if they moved underwater. Heldensen sped true, smashing the daemon in the face. Its head snapped back and, with a blast of warplight, it fell dead upon the floor.

The glamour was lifted by the daemon’s expulsion, and Calanax pressed forward towards the hammer. The Shardgate was forcing its way through the domed ceiling, still descending as the fortress rose up. Chunks of masonry fell down, and the whole keep rumbled.

‘Thostos, the hammer!’ called Vandus. Calanax pushed onwards, fighting through a swarm of leaping daemons that twisted into being from jets of fire projected by a Lord of Change.

‘The chains!’ shouted Thostos back.

Vandus nodded in acknowledgement. He stood up in Calanax’s saddle, swinging his hammer at the first of Ghal Maraz’s restraints. Several links burst. Fizzling magic, they fell away. Thostos cleaved through one, then two, with his runeblade. Vandus rode swiftly to the next, then the next.

‘You cannot triumph! This hammer belongs to Tzeentch!’ crowed Kairos.

The greater daemon stalked across the floor and levelled his staff at Thostos. From the top of the rod spouted a gout of magical fire. When it touched the Celestial Vindicator, his magic aura seemed to transmute his flesh into pure sigmarite, but the fire burned hotter and hotter, and Thostos’ body began to run. With heroic effort, Thostos cut through another chain, one of pure light that vanished as Thostos’ sword passed through it. Stormcasts ran to Thostos’ aid, but Kairos sent them sprawling with a thought, and the Lord-Celestant remained trapped in the searing fire.

Vandus rode to the next chain and shattered it. The noise attracted the attention of Kairos’ left head.

‘Ah, ah, I think not,’ said the Lord of Change.

‘It thinks it can outthink me!’ said the other head.

‘Kairos Fateweaver!’ said the first head. He advanced on Vandus. The fire winked out and Thostos fell to the side.

‘The Great Oracle, to whom no secret of past…’ said the first head.

‘…or future…’ said the other.

‘…is any kind of secret at all,’ they said together.

The end of his staff glowed with awful light.

‘Now,’ said the heads together, ‘let us change you into something fitting—’

A bolt of light streaked from the side of the room, catching the Lord of Change on the arm. Kairos’ heads snapped round, and Ionus Cryptborn sent another blast at the daemon.

In the corner of the room, Ephryx blinked. The green light went from his eyes as Kairos’ control of Ephryx was shattered, his master embroiled in a magical duel with the skull-faced warrior.

‘Kairos,’ he said. His aged voice was a dry whisper. The sorcerer bent painfully to the floor and took up a fallen staff of change. Its violent energies coursed through him, warping his flesh and soul, but he hobbled forward toward his treacherous master. The Shardgate, the hammer, the invasion — all had become of no consequence. He was consumed by his hatred of Kairos.

Raising the staff in palsied hands, Ephryx swung at Kairos’ back. The head of the staff barely scratched the daemon’s skin, but it was enough.

Kairos flung back his head and screeched from both mouths. Rippling energy engulfed him. His physical form sped through a dozen transmutations: a tusked skyray, a moonfaced puppet jerking in multicoloured flame, a pink-skinned lesser daemon, a statue of coal and a chirring song bird.

Ephryx sank to his knees, all his strength gone.

‘You didn’t see that coming did you, you preening peacock.’

‘Vandus, the hammer!’ said Thostos, his voice a gurgle.

Vandus stood upon Calanax’s back and launched himself at Ghal Maraz. He flew through the air, hand outstretched. A Lord of Change reached out for him, only to be blasted back by a bolt of lightning from Calanax. A second fell to a magical attack from Ionus. Time slowed to a crawl. A thousand futures depended on this moment.

Vandus’ fingers closed upon the gleaming haft of the hammer. The last chain fell away, and it came free. His mind flooded with memories that were not his own, images from times and places far away, and a world long gone. Then he was falling and rolling. He came up easily, and he held the power of a god in one hand.

Kairos Fateweaver leaned over him, the last effects of his transformations flickering over his faces as he regained control of his form.

The daemon lifted a hand and a glow of power formed around it. ‘I do not think that is yours,’ he said.

‘Nor is it yours,’ said Vandus.

Before he had even formed the intent to move, Ghal Maraz streaked forward with the power of a comet. Vandus was only the means to the end. The weapon used him to exert its will.

Ghal Maraz smashed into Kairos’ shoulder, sending the arm spinning free in a spray of mashed flesh and daemonic ichor. Kairos shrieked, twin screams from both mouths.

The hammer arced round, dragging Vandus’ hand with it. It powered into Kairos’ left head, caving in his skull and sending it crashing into the right. Kairos toppled forward cawing in pain. Vandus stepped back, and the hammer swung up and down, crushing one head into a bloody paste upon the floor, then the second.

Kairos’ body convulsed, making a scream-like a whistle. He juddered, vibrating so quickly his outline was a blur. He convulsed, inwards, outwards, then with a sorry pop he transformed into a smoky crystal.