Chris Wright - Age of Sigmar - Omnibus

‘What were they doing? Where exactly is the camp?’

‘The route to the tower passes onto a sharp ridge, but we could see no further than that. It was the opinion of Knight Hastor that they were deliberately blocking the approach. It is far too high and inhospitable for them to have remained there for any other reason.’

‘They have good reason,’ said Arkas. ‘The Queen of the Peak is a powerful oracle and many seek her wisdom. They might hope to keep her visions to themselves or just ambush and murder those who would consult with the Queen.’

‘Do you have orders for Knight Hastor, my lord?’

‘They will find their next guests harder to handle, be sure of that.’ Arkas loosened his runeblade in its sheath. ‘Heed my command for Knight Hastor. We must secure the safety of the Queen of the Peak. I will lead an attack on the main camp. The Angelos Conclave has two missions once the attack is underway. Part of your force must hold the ridge to ensure none of the enemy can reach the Queen’s tower. You must personally locate the tower and ensure there are no foes in the surrounding area. Kill any that are, but do not enter under any circumstances. Allow nobody to pass into the tower until I arrive.’

‘What if the Queen of the Peak should emerge?’ asked Venian.

‘She cannot leave the tower,’ Arkas said. He knelt and used a finger to mark a symbol in the snow. ‘Mark this sigil and pass it on to Hastor. There is a gate-arch carved with duardin reliefs. He will know the presence of the Queen beyond it. He is to leave this, my rune, at the threshold, but is not to pass in.’ He closed his fist. ‘We will advance at haste. Make your move when Doridun signals the attack.’

‘Understood, Lord-Celestant.’ The Prosecutor-Prime stood up and lifted a crackling javelin as a salute. Turning gracefully, he sprang into the air, taking his warriors with him.

‘Dolmetis!’

The Knight-Vexillor hurried to attend his commander.

‘Form the army for attack. Trident formation, Judicator vanguards.’

‘It shall be done, my lord.’

Arkas set off again along the faint trail through the snow, trusting his Knight-Vexillor and the Primes to implement his command without delay. He knew the Icemere well and was surprised that it had changed so little over the many centuries. It had to be the influence of the Queen of the Peak. In a land wracked by constant upheaval, she was stasis personified.

With their Lord-Celestant setting a relentless pace, the Stormcast army soon came upon a band of thick forest, beyond which lay the Icemere. As Arkas had ordered, the host broke into three detachments, the general leading the central tine while Dolmetis and Doridun commanded the others. Forming the points of the trident, Arkas’ thirty Judicators advanced just ahead of the main columns, their various bows and crossbows well suited to taking down any patrols or sentries set by the foes.

Arkas’ force was small but formidable, its warriors elite even amongst the Strike Chambers of the Celestial Vindicators. He could sense the anticipation for battle in his host, infusing the ever-present aura of Ghur with a predatory hunger. The skirmish with the Bonekeepers had been a simple execution. True battle awaited.

They had not long passed under the shadowy eaves of the woods when one of the Judicator-Primes returned to report to Arkas. He led the Lord-Celestant to where his retinue were waiting amongst the trees, a broad clearing visible ahead of them. The ruined stones of a road passed directly into the pale sunlight.

‘There are watchers in the trees, my lord,’ said the Judicator-Prime, indicating half-seen shapes in the branches of the pines to either side of the track. From what Arkas could see, the sentries did not appear human — he caught glimpses of grey flesh and leathery wings.

‘Harpies?’

‘I don’t believe so, my lord. Something else, but we cannot see them well enough to say.’

Arkas looked more closely, crouching next to the trunk of a huge mountain pine. As he laid his hand upon its bark to steady himself he felt a tremor through his fingers. Glancing at the tree, he saw knotholes blinking, and within, green eyes looking back at him. He recoiled to his feet, seeing other eyes opening on the trees around him. Turning his attention to the trail ahead he saw that the ‘beasts’ in the trees were in fact twists of branch and leaf, forming humanoid shapes.

The dark bark of the tree he had leaned against started to split, the splinters of wood forming a maw. A low moan issued from this hole.

‘The trees are tainted,’ he snarled to his companions. ‘The trees are the sentries!’

The warning groans were getting louder and the branches were swaying, their rustling alarm rippling outwards.

‘If we cannot be stealthy, speed and shock will do. The Icemere is only three hundred paces more from the break of the trees,’ said Arkas.

He looked back to see the warriors of his command picking their way through the woods, their turquoise armour catching rays of weak light and then plunged into shade as the wind moved through the canopy above. He could hear the snap of twigs and thud of heavy boots even through the muffle of old leaves and mulch. ‘I do not think Sigmar was concerned with us sneaking around when he bid Grungni to forge our armour as he did…’

Looking through the trees, he spied the other Judicators, their Primes looking to him for some sign of what to do. He raised his hand as a sign for all to halt and then looked for his Knight-Heraldor. Doridun was at the head of his column a hundred or so paces away to the left. With two simple gestures, he passed on the command to sound the charge and then turned back to the Judicator-Prime.

‘Move now and kill all that you can. We shall pass through you. Guard our backs.’

‘Kill what, my lord?’

‘The trees! Burn them!’

‘As you will it, my lord.’ The Judicator-Prime moved his hand as though pulling a string on his bow, a lightning bolt appearing in place of where an arrow would be on a mortal weapon. The sparkle of others doing the same lit the trees. A heartbeat later the bolts flashed across the clearing, searing into the treetops.

Like candles, the trees lit with flame, sap crackling, needle-swathed branches thrashing as blue fire leapt from one to the next. The moaning became a higher pitched keening as another volley of enchanted missiles streaked into the arboreal watchers.

The peal of Doridun’s clarion reached Arkas’ ears and he launched into a sprint, hammer in one hand, runeblade in the other. From all along the treeline the Stormcast Eternals burst forth, thundering into the cloud-shrouded sunlight, the flicker of the Judicators’ lightning bolts catching on their armour as they ploughed through drifts of snow on the uneven ground.

Arkas surged ahead with his Retributors close at hand, their lightning hammers at the ready. Glaive-wielding Protectors followed Doridun and Dolmetis to either side. Made of unalloyed sigmarite, their thick armour was no encumbrance as they raced across the clearing.

Shouts from ahead warned that the enemy knew that something was amiss, but there was no chance they could know the nature of the foe about to fall upon them. Soon brash horns and drums called them to arms.

The clearing widened out as they neared the banks of the Icemere. Its surface was mirror-smooth, reflecting the tall trees around its edge and the grey sky above, stretching to the horizon to the left, where Arkas knew it became a frozen waterfall. To the right it was bordered by the stumps of the duardin walls that had dammed it in ages past. The enormous piles of a bridge still rose from the ice.

The Chaos tribe had spread across the banks and part of the lake opposite where the road had once run down the perimeter of the water. The scene was just as it had been described by Venian, with tents of all sizes arranged haphazardly on the snow-covered shore and frozen tarn, interspersed with bivouacs and more permanent structures of wood, hide and bone. Drifts of smoke rose from the fires of the previous night and five mighty pillars had been erected in a circle at the centre, held in place by thick rope cables.