Chris Wright - Age of Sigmar - Omnibus

‘Charge!’ I cry, weaving through the crowds of Liberators. ‘Make for the crucible! Find the Lord-Celestant — the night is almost done!’

As I run across the cracking earth, dodging jets of lava, the tower of lightning begins to slowly rotate, trailing twitching limbs of electricity that tear apart even more of the Chaos steeds. The red-armoured knights are so busy trying to control their bucking mounts that I stagger half way through their ranks before they even notice. Even then, they find it hard to place me in the blinding glare.

One of them manages to bar my way and attack. He’s lost his weapon so he simply dives headfirst through the inferno of spinning lights. I sidestep his clumsy lunge and pound him into the ground with my warhammer. Without breaking my stride I race into the heart of Sigmar’s fire. It’s so fierce I can barely see and my armour begins to ripple with heat, but I can’t falter. I will not let Tylos fail.

The warriors of Khorne have fled the blast and I stumble through the blaze alone. The arcs of power are still passing over me, rather than slicing me open, but my armour is starting to buckle and boil. The heat is incredible. I’m still a few feet from the core when my damaged leg gives way. The wound I sustained at the lake explodes with pain and I crash heavily to the ground. I crawl on but the light is growing more ferocious with every second. I take a breath that’s nothing but fire and agony blossoms in my chest. The pain is horrific, beyond even the pain of my Reforging.

As the lightning crashes down around me, the earth cracks and judders again. I crawl up a shifting ledge of rock, trying to see if the army is with me. After staring into the light, I realise I’m trapped. The lightning has left me surrounded by a circle of angry, spitting lava. I stagger from side to side, trying to find a way through, but wherever I go I’m met by more lava. There’s no way through. I shout, but the roaring of lightning drowns out my cries.

It’s like dropping into the sun. As I plunge into the Lord-Relictor’s storm his howl of pain rings out and I pound my wings faster.

I order the rest of the retinue clear, sending them back towards the brass skull. Some of them falter, unwilling to desert me and unnerved by Boreas’ cries.

‘Lord Tylos ordered us to wait for him at the realmgate! Do as your Lord-Celestant commands or risk his wrath!’

Reluctantly, they swoop and sail back through the clouds. I turn back to the lights below. This is it. I can feel it clearly. This is my chance to erase the past.

I fold my wings and dive with greater speed than I have yet attempted. The descent is dizzying and exhilarating but the light burns into me like acid.

I have seconds at most.

The ground rushes towards me but it’s impossible to see anything clearly. The world is a maelstrom of white, celestial heat.

I realise, too late, how low I am, and only pound my wings seconds before crashing into the rocky earth. Agony jolts through me and I roll, howling, through the blaze.

The incredible heat drives me back to my feet and I see Boreas lying with his hand outstretched towards the centre of the lightning. His armour is warped out of shape and he’s struggling to move. I stagger to his side and lift his head. Blood pours from the eye sockets of his mask, but he manages to speak.

‘Tylos,’ he grunts through shredded vocal cords.

The heat is beyond anything I have experienced and I topple away from him, unable to breathe.

I reach out and my hand locks around a ball of agony. I see that I’ve plunged my fist into the magma. I draw back my ruined limb and realise a new wall of lava has sheared up from the ground, separating me from Boreas. I’m so close to death that it fills me with rage — I cannot die until Boreas is safe.

I throw myself through the curtain of lava, grab Boreas and fly with a fury I have never braved before. As the lava eats into me I soar upwards, surrounded by a spinning halo of light.

The pain grows and I realise my armour is collapsing.

I beat my wings harder, holding Boreas as tightly as I can.

I’m flying so fast that I can’t breathe. This is no mortal strength I can feel in my wings. This is the strength of a god.

The lightning falls away, the smoke fades, and soon all that lies ahead of me is the night.

My armour peels away and my skin runs like water. Slowly, my insides boil and break apart.

I die as I land, letting out a final roar, not of pain, but of victory. Boreas is safe. We will not fail. It is not my flesh but my past that I can feel burning away, my madness that’s dripping from my limbs. Finally, I am worthy of my name. Finally, I am Drusus Unbound.

As Boreas leans over me, reciting the Oath of Passing, I see the God-King, waiting for me in the blaze. He raises his hammer as he welcomes me home.

The Blood Creed roar as Hakh swings his sword at my face.

I plant my left heel in the ground and bring Grius up to meet his blade.

As I am hurled back across the stone hand, I realise I’ve underestimated him. My arm sings with agony as I roll and stumble back to my feet. His strange, bestial features crease into a leer as he swaggers after me, drawing back the huge sword for another strike. The lumbering colossus should not be able to wield that sword with such ferocious power — the Blood God is in his flesh. Khorne is battling me through the body of this snarling ape.

The thought only adds to my pride. To stand alone, bearing Sigmar’s honour. It is not the fate I imagined for myself.

He swings again, but this time I’m ready. Rather than parry I roll towards him, leap forwards and bring Grius down between his obscene horns.

There’s a dull crunch as his skull gives way.

The force of the blow sends him reeling into the circle of onlookers.

I stride after him, raising Grius for another blow, but Hakh’s honourless warriors crowd around him, blocking my way with a wall of weapons and curses.

They hold me at bay as their lord climbs slowly to his feet. His thick brow has collapsed, giving his face an even more misshapen appearance. He shows no sign of weakening, however, as he turns on his own men. He’s clearly furious that they thought he needed help, and he butchers anyone within reach. Only when there is a circle of twitching warriors lying around him does he turn and face me again. He reaches up to his broken head and laughs.

‘Not enough,’ he growls, as he charges back into our impromptu arena.

I take a deep breath and lift Grius. This is going to take more time than I have.

Before he reaches me, light floods the sky and I realise to my horror that day is upon us.

Hakh and I both turn to look. It’s immediately apparent that this is no natural sunlight. A few hundred feet away, not far from my embattled Liberators, a column of light has burst from the ground. It’s pouring up into the storm clouds, coruscating and sparking as it lights up the ruins.

Hakh recovers from his shock and takes the opportunity to attack, bringing his sword round in a low strike at my stomach.

I bring Grius down in time to block the blow, but my mind is only half on the fight. As I back away from him, clutching Grius in both hands, I see that the shaft of light is having a devastating effect on the monsters attacking my army. It is spewing buttresses of energy that blast apart the juggernauts when they collide, creating spectacular eruptions of flame and armour.

‘Boreas,’ I mutter, recognising the power of my brother.

Hakh staggers to a halt and lowers his sword, staring at the scene beyond the edge of the stone hand. He howls in outrage at what follows. As the column of light turns, its radiance slices through the daemon-steeds and tears up the ground, leaving Hakh’s knights floundering in a swamp of lava, blood and body parts.