Chris Wright - Age of Sigmar - Omnibus

‘We are the exalted!’ I cry. ‘We are vengeance! We are Stormcast!’

The skeletons topple like mannequins but the onslaught is endless. They are undaunted by my brutal blows. As Grius returns them to dust, hundreds more march into view, as relentless as the storm overhead. They hack at me with a bizarre collection of weapons. Some carry the most incredible swords — things of great workmanship, dragged from the tombs of kings — while others lurch towards me with clubs and broken scythes.

Between the brass skull and me there is now a field of grinning, gibbering faces. We need another way to break through. Dawn is imminent and I could smash these mindless wretches for an age and not reach my goal. There must be thousands of dead souls rising to block our way.

I look back and see that Castamon and his Liberators have almost managed to reach me — a wedge of glinting sigmarite trailing shattered bones as they slice through the host, followed by Celadon and his lumbering ranks of paladins and the last few retinues of Judicators, who have swapped their bows for short swords as they hack through the leering dead.

I raise Grius in tribute then bring the warhammer down, channelling all my rage and frustration. To my shock, a blast of light clears the area ahead of me. The nearest skeletons crumble into dust and dozens more roll away from me. For a moment, I think Grius is responsible but then, as I stride forwards into the gap, I see the truth.

‘Drusus!’ I cry, looking up at the heavens, delighted to see that he has managed to carry out the order I gave when we crossed the lake. I told him to wait for us near the skull and strike when our need was greatest, but I had started to fear that the Prosecutors must all have perished. They dive from the clouds launching javelins and hammers that blaze as they fall, ripping great holes in the skeleton army. For a moment, my heart races, but I realise that there’s no sign of Drusus’ plumed helmet. Another winged herald is leading their attacks.

The first ranks of Liberators start to reach my side, still singing as they envelop me with their wall of shields and hammers.

‘Where is the the Prosecutor-Prime?’ I demand, glancing at Castamon between blows.

The Liberator-Prime shakes his head. ‘He fell, Lord-Celestant.’

I glance at him.

He hesitates, sounding pained. ‘Lord-Celestant, didn’t you see the comet? Drusus braved that inferno so that the Lord-Relictor might live.’

‘Boreas?’ I feel a flint of pain in my chest but the Liberators are watching me, waiting to hear my response.

‘Drusus died with honour.’ I look at the sky. ‘None of us can ask for more.’

The crowds of skeletons smash into us again, but the Liberators hold their line and we force our way onwards.

‘Heralds of Sigmar!’ I cry, still staring at the sky. The stars have all vanished from view. The sky is the colour of lead. Morning is moments away. ‘Prosecutors!’

What remains of Drusus’ retinues sweep back around and tumble from the storm clouds. Some are struggling to fly, held aloft by their brothers as their lightning bladed wings start to falter and dim, but all of them are singing as they snatch lightning from the heavens and form dazzling weapons in their fists.

‘We’re almost through!’ I roar. ‘Carve a path!’

They raise their voices in song and dive at the skeletons. Storm-born javelins and hammers fly from their hands as they descend.

‘Brace yourselves!’ I cry to the Liberators and they drop to their knees.

The ground shudders as a blazing line of explosions tears through the skeletons. A smouldering, white road opens up before us.

‘Charge!’ I shout, and we race down the shimmering avenue, surrounded by charred, broken bones.

Overhead, the Prosecutors launch another storm of twin-tailed bolts, blasting the path further into the crater. Skeletons are still lurching towards us, but there’s now a clear way and we’re racing towards our goal through a valley of smoke and glittering embers.

Another series of blasts erupts up ahead and, finally, the brass skull looms before me. I see wide, metal steps leading up to an enormous doorway beneath two of the skull’s lower teeth. A metal portico leads to the door, and it’s hard to see clearly but I think there are figures at the threshold. Crimson shapes are flowing down to meet us. Khorne’s host has arrived.

‘Above you!’ roars an unfamiliar voice, from somewhere in the crowds of skeletons.

I look up and see a bone colossus dropping through the fumes towards me, borne on vast, skeletal wings.

I drop into a battle stance as it lands and rears over me. It’s a revolting construct of sorcery and bone that towers over the fighting. It pounds across the shattered rocks on clawed feet, clutching a pair of great, cleaver-like swords. It seems to be formed from the skeleton of a huge, winged warrior and its bones are clad in the remnants of ancient armour. Emerald light coils beneath its rib cage — luminous viscera wrapped around a collection of broken, human skulls.

I leap forward, whirling Grius around my head.

The bone monster raises one of its swords to parry my blow, but my fury resonates through its hollow limbs, sending it back down the blazing path, its sword spinning away into the melee.

I charge after it, followed by a wave of Liberators but, with a pound of its fleshless wings, the monster launches itself into the air and hacks down at me with its remaining sword.

I smash the blade back and leap again, grasping its legs and hauling myself up over its shimmering torso.

It lurches under my weight but before I can land another blow it grabs me by the throat and swings its falchion.

‘No!’ cries a female voice and there’s a blaze of light as something slams into the monster.

The impact sends the sword strike off target, saving my head, but the bone construct pounds its wings and soars up towards the clouds, with me and the other figure still hanging from its ribs. I realise, to my amazement, that it is the woman I saw with Hakh.

As we fly higher, the creature tightens its grip on my throat and swings again.

This time I’m ready. I smash the blow away with Grius, haul myself higher and pound the warhammer into the thing’s giant, bestial skull.

Green light blazes as cracks open up in its snout, but it clearly feels no pain. It pounds its wings again, throwing us through the clouds, away from the Crucible of Blood.

A Prosecutor whirls through the clouds and catches sight of us. He cries out my name and dives towards us. The bone monster lashes out and the blade clangs off the Prosecutor’s chest armour. The Stormcast tumbles away, pounding his wings furiously but, as the monster flies higher, I see him soar after us, refusing to let me go. I see the marks on his honour scrolls and recognise him.

‘Stay back, Sardicus!’ I shout.

Then I see the Crucible of Blood and mutter a curse.

The brass is shimmering in the crimson light of a new sun.

Shapes are forming in the blood. Dear merciful gods, what shapes. These are the malformed things I saw in the painting — hunchbacked daemons wrought of flame and crimson scales. Their heads are like long, snarling anvils and they clutch smouldering blades in their claws.

I order my spearmen to attack and then send the Coven Throne hurtling back down the steps. As I descend, the creatures pour from the wall of blood, spiderlike and frenzied. My spearmen clatter up the steps to meet them and the dead join battle with the damned, levelling a bristling wall of jagged spearheads at the emerging monsters.

‘Attack! Attack!’ I cry as my Coven Throne reaches the bottom of the steps, and the landscape boils into life as thousands more skeletons race to obey, flooding past me, climbing the steps and swamping the daemons trying to enter the realm.