Chris Wright - Age of Sigmar - Omnibus

They passed much evidence of the ancient human and duardin strongholds that had once dominated these lands. All was worn and broken by countless years, but from the back of Tyrathrax here and there Theuderis spied a rune-etched column or some carved face of a deity long consumed by the ravaging Chaos Gods. In places, the tribes had tried to rebuild parts of the mountains-spanning dead city, leaving ramshackle walls and circular encampments of piled stone. Symbols of the Dark Powers were daubed on these hovels and there was other evidence of depraved practices.

‘I thought the Realms of Beasts would be teeming with life,’ remarked Voltaran. ‘Yet all I hear is the wind and tread of boots. Not a bird cry or snuffle or growl.’

Theuderis had noticed the silence too and developed a theory.

‘It is our presence that stills them. We carry with us the light of Sigmar, the power celestial. Long they have nestled in the crux of the Dark Gods’ embrace — they are suffused with its corruption.’ He gazed about at the tumbled rocks and spiny trees that littered the slope around them. ‘Trust nothing here, no matter how fair-seeming. All has been touched by Chaos.’

‘You think nothing has survived of what once was?’

‘There is no purity to be found in this forsaken realm, Voltaran. When it has been purified, when we have seized the realmgates and wrested the Allpoints from accursed Archaon, the beauty of the untrammelled wilderness will blossom again and those untouched by the darkness will live here in peace.’

‘That is a very long time yet, Lord-Celestant. The work has only just begun.’

‘Yet longer has the Lord Sigmar planned this return. In an age the Mortal Realms fell. Not overnight will they be restored to goodness. Be comforted that each region we purge, each realmgate we seize, brings that blessed state closer.’

‘In the God-King’s name.’

‘For eternity may he reign.’

They continued on for some time, the landscape growing ever more barren and contorted as they progressed. The slopes were gouged with great welts that wept ruddy blood-like tar and the Prosecutors scouted far and wide to find the best route through the maze of pits, ruins and chasms that blocked the army’s route. At times Theuderis was forced to dismount to allow his dracoth to negotiate a steep climb, and just after noon he and many others were virtually on their hands and knees, pulling themselves up the near-vertical wall of a canyon. Tyrathrax scrambled up behind, panting hard, her claws scratching against the unforgiving rock.

Theuderis dragged himself over the lip of the cliff, joining the several dozen Stormcast Eternals of the vanguard who were already there. A sudden wild cawing and a mad flapping of wings announced the rise of a panicked flock of huge crows, each with a wingspan that rivalled a star-eagle’s. Other birds were wildly trilling and shrieking, taking to the skies in haste, predators and prey fleeing together.

The ground trembled.

Theuderis launched himself back towards the cliff edge, skidding along the brown grass with outstretched arms. The clifftop bucked even as he reached the edge. He looked down and saw Tyrathrax looking back at him, her pale blue eyes staring out of the slits in her gilded chamfron. To either side the ascending Stormcast Eternals doubled their efforts, heaving themselves between footholds, cracks and small ledges.

‘Jump!’ the Lord Celestant roared, digging the fingers of his left hand deep into the dirt and throwing out his right.

The dracoth bunched its muscles and leapt even as the face of the cliff sheared away.

Theuderis snatched a horn as it passed close to his hand, pulling with all of his strength to wrap his arm around the neck of his faithful mount. Tyrathrax’s claws gouged furrows in the disintegrating stone. The Lord-Celestant powered to his feet, dragging the dracoth with him in a welter of rock shards and clumps of mud.

‘Stay back from the edge!’ he bellowed over the cracking and groaning of tortured earth, as warriors of the vanguard moved to aid their companions on the cliff. There was nothing they could do and more would be lost.

Theuderis staggered away, pulling Tyrathrax after him, the ground rising and falling violently under his feet. Twice he fell to his knees and he let go of the dracoth to look back. The cliff was still tumbling away, breaking apart in boulders and sheets as the strata split, the edge moving closer and closer. It settled just a few strides away.

A few of the Stormcasts made it to safety. Armour cracked and buckled as they clambered through the deluge of rock. Beyond them the landslide was lit by detonations of power, glimmers of lightning as Theuderis’ warriors were crushed and pummelled, their physical remains summoned back to Azyr by Sigmar’s magic, there to be forged anew. The gleams from many who perished were swallowed by the burgeoning cloud of dust and grit that billowed up from the gorge. A last convulsion threw the surviving Stormcast Eternals to the ground. Theuderis’ legs buckled beneath him as the clifftop briefly dropped away and then sharply rose up to meet him like a bucking steed.

The shaking subsided. Commanding Tyrathrax to stay, Theuderis pushed himself to his feet and made his way carefully to the slew of broken rock that now descended into the valley. The shattered bodies of wounded Stormcasts were strewn amongst the grey and brown. The quake had lasted no more than a dozen heartbeats but had done as much damage as any enemy attack.

After the deafening tumult, the quiet was profound. It was quickly broken as the Stormcasts still alive called out, some shouting for aid, other voices coming from the Primes as they tallied who remained and who had been taken. The raucous cries of the circling birds echoed along the ravine to join the hiss of streaming dirt, the creak of settling stone and the last resounding thuds of rocks bouncing further down the defile.

Theuderis clambered down into the anarchy of piled boulders and broken tree trunks, scanning the debris. Movement above drew his attention to the descending flights of Prosecutors, the Knights-Venator gesticulating to the carnage below.

‘Back!’ roared Theuderis, waving his hand to attract their attention. ‘Back to your posts! If the enemy come upon us in this parlous state we are ruined. Keep vigilant!’

The flying warriors acknowledged his command and ascended, wings thrumming with celestial power, spreading out to form a watchful cordon. Theuderis joined his warriors, lifting the rocks and hurling them away with superhuman strength to unearth the Stormcasts trapped beneath. He pulled away a boulder to reveal a Retributor, his starsoul mace still tightly gripped in his hands. Blood seeped from a gouge across his chest, but he turned his head to look at the Lord-Celestant.

‘It will take more than a mountain falling on me to keep me from the fight, my lord.’

‘Elegias?’

The Retributor nodded.

‘I saw Vortemon Azyr-drawn. You are Retributor-Prime now. Lead well.’

‘I am honoured,’ replied Elegias, grasping Theuderis’ proffered arm to haul himself out of the rubble. Others were also emerging from the crush, the hardened sigmarite of their armour bearing scuffs, dents and cracks inflicted by the earthquake’s fury.

Some were not so fortunate. Theuderis levered aside a boulder almost as large as the warrior beneath, freeing a Judicator named Sementor. His arm had been ripped off by the churning rocks and his boltstorm crossbow lay off to the side, mangled amongst the stones. The side of his helm had been caved in, too, jagged edges cutting deep to the bone of the exposed skull, a single blue eye revealed.

‘I cannot fight on, my lord,’ said Sementor. ‘I shall be no burden to the Silverhands. Sigmar calls me.’