Chris Wright - Age of Sigmar - Omnibus

‘For the Blood God!’ came a frenzied cry, cutting through the tumult.

The spell of the vision broke, and Vandus’s gaze snapped up.

The words were not the warlord’s. The whip-wielder had returned, driving a fresh phalanx of blood warriors and bloodreavers before him. The newcomers crashed into the battling lines, scattering the vanguard of Liberators and pushing them back deep into their own ranks.

Vandus alone stood firm, recovering himself and smashing aside the blood warriors that slammed into him. He slew swiftly, his hammer scything, but hundreds swarmed at him, driven by the merciless goad in their midst.

Vandus’s dracoth reared up, tearing and ripping his way to his side, and the two of them were reunited amid a swirling sea of foes, each fighting furiously just to stay on their feet and not get dragged under the bow-wave of the assault.

‘For the God-King!’ Vandus cried, remounting even as he shattered the skulls of those trying to haul him down.

They were pushed back towards the Gate, where they were joined by Liberators fighting back after the shock of the charge. The crush intensified, and the fighting rose to an apex of desperate brutality. There was no room for art, no space for finesse — Celestial resolve was pitted against a riptide of mindlessness, and the Hammers of Sigmar fought back then as savagely and as pitilessly as those they faced.

Caught in the centre of it all, driven westward, Vandus caught a last glimpse of Khul, trampled by his own kind, lost under the rampage of ironshod boots. It was impossible to tell whether he lived or died, but he was soon beyond all hope of reaching.

Freed of his baleful presence, though, Vandus felt a sudden lifting of the dread that had hung in their air since the warlord’s arrival. The tenor of the storm itself changed, and all across the battlefield the Eternals sensed it. A great shout, issued from thousands of immortal lips, rose up into the maelstrom-driven air.

Sigmar!

The battle-chant resounded across the Igneous Delta for the first time in mortal memory. The Gate remained open, and more Eternals were coming through the portal with every passing moment.

The dracoth swept his serpentine head from side to side, gouging out the throats of all within range. The Stormhost regained its shape, responding to the onslaught as they had been trained to. The final charge had been vicious, but even the champions of the horde, those steeped deepest in battle-rage, could see that with Khul’s defeat, the night was already lost. This land’s marred sun would rise soon, casting red light over a new vista of gold and cobalt.

Vandus raised his warhammer aloft, and it blazed with the unbound splendour of the lightning’s heart.

‘Azyr!’ he cried. ‘For the God-King!’

And as one the Hammers of Sigmar took up the shout, surging back at the enemy with the light of the Celestial Realm burning in their eyes.

Hours passed before the last of the enemy was beaten back. Even in defeat many of them still fought on, bitterly contesting every last tract of ground. More Eternals fell in that fighting, brought down by the savagery of the blood-crazed horde.

But Vandus came among them again, his strength now unmatched, and the last resistance was broken. Khul never returned. Of Vekh the Flayer there was no sign, nor of the beast he had enslaved. Skullbrand, bereft of the leadership of his master, was hammered back into the west, and with him went the last of the Realm of Chaos, melting back into the earth in rippling waves of oily smoke. Phalanxes of Liberators pursued the defeated horde, only halting when the dangers of becoming isolated became too great. Then they set the banners of Azyr to fly on the ruined walls, and mounted a guard on the hollow towers. With the rising of the sun, the entire plain was taken, ready for the next assault. Others would already be preparing to cross the void to secure what had been won, but the Hammers of Sigmar could not rest for long — their task had long been ordained, and before the blood had cooled on the battlefield they would be marching again.

Only when the last of the enemy had been slain did Vandus return to the Gate. By then he had given his dracoth freedom to hunt freely, and now he walked across the earth in the manner of the rest of his Eternals, his footfalls sinking deep into the gore-rich soil.

Ionus was waiting for him at the foot of the stone stairway, leaning heavily on his reliquary staff. The Cryptborn bowed as the Hammerhand approached, as did all the Stormhost present.

‘So his faith in you was vindicated,’ said Ionus, dryly. ‘In the end.’

Vandus smiled. ‘You witnessed it. Did you doubt?’

‘When I saw you fight like a callow youth, yes. Not at the conclusion. What ailed you?’

Vandus looked about him. The sheer despoliation still had the power to chasten. ‘This place,’ he said. ‘Though we were warned, there could be no preparing.’

Ionus grunted. ‘That was why you were charged with forgetting. The Reforging should have made you whole.’

‘And you, then, Cryptborn? You have forgotten too?’

Ionus let slip a harsh laugh. ‘Well, we must both learn — there can be no going back.’

‘No, but there may be a second forging, for you and all the others.’ Vandus looked out over his army, their armour now streaked with blood and soiled with the filth of the Igneous Delta. ‘This was mine.’

The two of them began to walk up the long stone stairwell, Ionus limping heavily. Above them soared the arch of the Gate, now glinting in the light of the world’s sun. Age had been stripped away by the storm’s wrath, and the artistry of its makers was revealed once more.

In time, more than Eternals would come through that portal. Artificers and stonewrights would return, making good what had been laid low. This ground won was just a fragment of the Brimstone Peninsula’s vast expanse — they had established a mere pinprick of light against the swath of darkness that ran off into every compass point. When those points of light were united, drawn together by the coming of many Stormhosts, then the war would flourish in earnest.

They both knew that other portals were under attack now. Some would succeed, carving new paths into the territory of the great enemy. Others would no doubt fail, though their valour would still be a testament to the God-King’s vision. This was just the start, the unfolding of a thousand battles that would sweep across lands long lost to despair.

‘And what of Khul?’ asked Ionus, breathing heavily as he climbed. His wounds had been grave, and even the Lord-Relictor would take time to recover from them.

‘He lives,’ said Vandus. ‘The shame of his survival will haunt him, just as mine did me.’ He looked out across the ruins. ‘He will return, once his broken body has healed. We must be ready.’

Ionus nodded. ‘And so we will be.’

Vandus said nothing of his vision then — the Gate into the abyss, the pyramid of skulls. He would be compelled to, in time, for already his mind was turning to the campaign to come. He would have to bend Ionus to his will before the Stormhost marched next, and that would not be easy.

The two of them reached the summit of the stair. Above them soared the archway, now free of the fires that had raged across it. The air hummed with an actinic charge and lightning still flickered around its edges, but only the deep bloodstains on the stone marked the true scale of what had taken place under its shadow.

The air tasted of ashes, and the copper tang of blood underpinned it all. The great heaps of bone were visible in the distance, hazy in the dawn, and beyond them reared the faint outlines of greater towers.