Chris Wright - Age of Sigmar - Omnibus

The Knight-Venator made no comment and raised no question, but simply dipped a wing to wheel away, a flash of rainbow colours and gold that soon disappeared into the clouds that were closing in on the mountain once more.

Dolmetis started to climb from the base of the bridge, his hasty steps betraying his concern. Arkas turned to look back at the queen’s tower. Her presence was everywhere, and in every icy sparkle and frosty glimmer he felt her gaze upon him. Had she played him false, out of spite showing him the peril of Theuderis when it was too late to act? Had she known what would happen on the walls of Kurzengor when Skixakoth had issued forth from the deeps to sweep away mankind’s last reign over Ursungorod?

Despite his doubts, Arkas could not ignore a simple principle — an oath was an oath. It was not his place to judge the Queen of the Peak but to measure himself by the standards of his spirit.

He lowered to a knee, head bowed, hammer in both hands with the brow of his mask against the haft.

‘God-King, my Lord Sigmar, Protector of the Faithful, Shield of Mankind, I beg leave of you for a boon.’ Arkas could hear Dolmetis’ rapid steps approaching and spoke quickly. ‘Grant peace to the Queen of the Peak, and forgive any wrong she has done in worlds past and ages forgotten. Through her I have received wisdom and guidance, in this life and in the other, and she has earned freedom from the curse laid upon her. Reward her loyal service and free her.’

‘Free whom, my lord?’ asked Dolmetis, catching his commander’s last words. ‘And whence does Hastor speed?’

‘The Queen of the Peak has provided and I must pay her price or be dishonoured. It is in the hands of Sigmar Almighty.’

‘You think he would set her free?’

‘I do,’ said Arkas, looking skywards. The clouds were turning dark, edged with a cerulean gleam. ‘It was he that imprisoned her, after all.’

Dolmetis said nothing and looked up as well. Streaks of power lashed across the bulging mass of the thunderhead forming over the gorge. As when he felt the touch of the celestial beacons of the Knights-Azyros, so now Arkas bathed in the presence of his master and creator.

With a thunderclap that shook the bridge and caused flocks of birds to launch from the forests far below, a single bolt of light flashed down and struck the top of the tower’s dome. Ice exploded like glass splinters, showering down into the chasm beneath. A blast of wind howled, swirling up from the gorge around the two Stormcast Eternals. Arkas thought he heard a whispered farewell.

The last reverberations of the thunderstrike echoed away.

The cocoon of ice that had encased the fortress and the queen’s tower started to shear away, crumbling into sparkling fog.

‘That is freedom?’ asked Dolmetis.

‘Oblivion,’ said Arkas. ‘All that she has craved for countless lifetimes of men. I swore once to end her existence, and now Lord Sigmar has delivered on my promise.’

‘Perhaps you might have invoked the power of our God-King whilst on solid ground,’ suggested Dolmetis, pointing his warhammer at the rents and cracks spreading up the far end of the bridge. As the enchantment failed the whole of the duardin stronghold plummeted into the valley, foundations and vaults and barbican as one, a deluge of stones and mortar following it.

The two warriors broke into a run as the bridge collapsed, pounding down the span just a few paces ahead of the falling masonry. Making a last leap for safety, they threw themselves over the edge of the parapet, falling towards the ledge beneath.

Both landed heavily in a fountain of snow while chunks of stone rained down, glancing from their armour. Arkas pulled himself back to his feet and looked down into the gorge where the fallen castle had ploughed a massive furrow into the trees far below.

‘Perhaps I should have thought that through,’ he admitted.

‘I forgive you, my lord,’ said Dolmetis. ‘I am sure the warriors we left stationed on the Icemere will be equally understanding. When they dry out.’

Theuderis seized a beastman by the throat as it swung a hatchet at his head. The axeblade glanced ineffectually from the side of his helm. He snapped its neck and used the corpse to swat away an ungor that was trying to ram a dagger into the back of his knee.

‘Attaxes, let us up the tempo of this dance. Signal stormfall. Voltaran! It is time to bring the hammerstrike.’

As the rising notes passed along the line, the Stormcast Eternals battling the horde of gors broke from the fight, retreating from the enemy with swifts steps. Stunned, the beastmen scrambled away or milled about, unsure whether to retreat or attack. Behind the melee ranks, the Judicators did likewise, falling back before the oncoming rush of monsters and bestigors. Their Primes shouting out swift commands, the two lines passed through each other and turned, smoothly swapping positions.

Now the bray-shamans attacked, and a horde of beastmen and spawn found itself hurtling towards a bristling line of hammers, axes and glaives, shimmering with celestial heat. The Judicators unleashed their projectiles into the gors and ungors fleeing up the mountain, scything them down in a hail of crackling bolts and eruptions.

In the midst of this, Voltaran held aloft his icon.

‘Lord of the Celestial Realm, heed our call,’ the Knight-Vexillor shouted. ‘God-King, saviour, avenger, let free your wrath upon these cursed beasts!’

The gilded lightning strikes that tipped his standard started to glow, turning from shining gold to a bright, pale blue. A fierce wind swirled upwards, ripping trees bodily from the ground and hurling them into the sky. Above, stormclouds boiled into existence, dark and low, seething with celestial energy. The beastmen and their leaders cowered beneath this display of divine might.

Attaxes let forth a refrain from his clarion. The noise rose in volume, swiftly becoming a deafening call to arms. It reached a crescendo and crashed like thunder, a shockwave of power exploding from the Stormcast. The wall of sound sped out, churning mud, cadavers, splintered trees and ice. When it hit the beastmen it lifted them from their feet and skewered them with broken branches. The wind hurled the survivors into each other, tossed them into tree trunks and sent the ragdoll carcasses spinning and skidding across the rough earth.

Just as the peal of thunder dissipated, the storm cloud burst into violent life, raining down strike after strike, every bolt centred on a mutated Chaos creature. Dozens of blasts fell in a matter of a few heartbeats, blinding in their intensity. Celestial power crawled across the ground like a tide of serpents, writhing up the shattered trunks of the trees and coiling tentacle-fashion around the legs of Chaos spawn as if to drag them down.

Theuderis strode into the fire and bolts with his Paladins at his back and flung out his hammer, casting it into the air in a looping arc. It thudded into the ground not far from the bray-shamans, who were berating their bestigors, trying to restore some semblance of control after the fury of the storm.

‘Let the hammer of kings strike!’ the Lord-Celestant bellowed, drawing his runesword, the pommel and blade etched with symbols that were the bane of Chaos. His thrown hammer shook with a life of its own, sending out sparks and fronds of blue lightning that fizzed across the ground.

The Stormcast Eternals advanced. Another blaze of power erupted above. The strikes did not lance towards the foe, but this time were met by streaks of energy leaping out from Theuderis’ hammer.

Where they touched, a Stormcast Eternal appeared, fresh and ready for battle, Liberators bearing great axes and swords, or short warblades and shields.