Chris Wright - Age of Sigmar - Omnibus

‘You must continue to survive,’ he told Katiya. ‘If we fail to turn the tide you will still have the City of Ice to protect you. You must hold on. My companions from the Knights Excelsior are being led here. Theuderis Silverhand commands them, a host ten times the size of mine. It was for this reason we are here, to bring forth the poison of Chaos and destroy it.’

Katiya said nothing, conflicted. It was Ajfor who replied.

‘We will show you the way,’ he said. ‘A place where a few can stand against the many.’

‘The Teeth of the Bear,’ said Katiya, looking to her grandson and receiving a nod. She smiled. ‘If there is anywhere this flood of foes can be dammed, it is there.’

‘I know it,’ said Arkas. ‘A defile along which the Black River flows, steep-sided and narrow.’

‘It is not as it was in your day,’ said Katiya, as Arkas stood and replaced his mask. ‘The land does not stand still. But you will see for yourself.’

Ajfor moved away to several more men and women and spoke to them, pointing at Arkas and then continuing for a short while longer. He turned back to the Lord-Celestant.

‘With your permission, Uniter, we would bring you to the Teeth of the Bear by several routes. My cousins will take your warriors by the secret paths.’

‘Tell them the Warbeast commands it,’ said Arkas. He repeated the phrase in the celestial tongue and had the guides practise the words. ‘Speak thus and they will know it comes from me.’

The Ursungorans said their farewells and disappeared into the white-and-grey tunnels. Ajfor directed a look to Arkas, a silent inquiry.

‘One moment,’ said the Lord-Celestant. He led Katiya to one side and spoke softly. ‘I see where you draw your strength. It is a long bloodline, but the power of Radomira flows in your veins still. Am I right?’

‘I am one of her daughters over many generations,’ said Katiya.

‘Then know this, Katiya Gospor, daughter of Radomira, child of Ursungorod. Your ancestor raised me as her own when my mother died. She said she saw omens that I would save my people. The storm claimed me, as she knew it would, and she stood beside me even though she knew that day would end in death and misery. Today know that the circle has turned, the night becomes day and light returns to Ursungorod. Your dreams of salvation are her memory returned, her hope reborn. Whatever happens, never abandon hope, never submit to the darkness.’

‘Death first,’ Katiya said hoarsely, throat tight with emotion. She stroked his armoured arm, child-like next to the giant but as motherly as Radomira ever was. ‘Go. Fight. Free our people.’

The Black River was narrow and fierce here, still fresh from the highlands, strengthened by the meltwater of the Bear’s Pelt. It frothed and rushed over jagged rocks, between the walls of a valley that were almost vertical. The defile did not run straight, but jagged back and forth around sharp bends, in places becoming waterfalls, in others slowing slightly into broader pools.

The way was impassable but for the remains of a duardin road that led down to the ruins Arkas had seen before meeting Katiya. Made of seemingly imperishable stone, the dark grey ribbon ran alongside the Black River, sometimes crossing over it on steep arches, in other places heaping up on thick piles to run across the surface of the cliffs and the clifftops themselves. The river itself was not in full flood, for when it was even the road was barred. Had it been the short spring, the host of the cursed ones would have been forced across the snow fields and exposed to the bitter winds and blizzards, not to mention the hidden chasms and ambushes of the Ursungorans. They had learnt to tread warily across the Bear’s Pelt, and so they approached through the Bear’s Teeth, sure of the ground beneath their feet and confident in their numbers.

The Bear’s Teeth had been, in Arkas’ mortal time, a pair of high rock pillars that flanked the river at its narrowest point — black columns each nearly a quarter of a mile high. Making his way towards them, Arkas saw that the landscape had changed, as Katiya had warned. The river now spread into a deep pool half a mile across, and more rock pinnacles speared from the black depths at its edge, curving towards each other to form a boundary of immense rock fangs, leaving the original Bear’s Teeth as monstrous canines.

The lake was not impassable though, for a maze of boulders and walkways stood proud of the water, slick but broad enough for the Stormcasts to use them as stepping stones and bridges if needed.

‘They were not here before,’ gasped Ajfor, pointing to the wetted boulders. He looked in amazement at Arkas. ‘The lands form to your command, Uniter!’

Even as he watched, Arkas saw another rock push forth in a welter of bubbles, capping the end of a bridge-like spur. Rocky steps led down from the cliff-like banks to the waters.

‘So it seems,’ he grunted, unsure of this revelation. Ursungorod had always been erratic, but this behaviour reminded him of the touch of Chaos. Could he trust the land enough to cross the lake?

From the clifftops, Arkas could see further down the river. As he had suspected, the arithmetic of crows and hawks left something to be desired — the Chaos army numbered several thousands, but no more than ten thousand. Even so, it was a formidable sight, a snake of black and red and leather-brown, of silver and bronze mail that snaked for some distance along the canyon below.

Pennants stitched with vile symbols fluttered above the host, alongside wooden placards burnt with runes or daubed in blood with symbols of Chaos and the Pestilens. The tramp of their feet was louder even than the roaring of the Black River, echoed and amplified by the defile walls. Harsh laughter, the baying of mutant hounds and monstrous bellows of lumbering, blood-coloured khorgoraths added to the din.

‘So many,’ whispered Ajfor, his hand shielding his eyes against the low sun. He crouched behind a pillar of rock jutting from the cliff edge, a little way ahead of Arkas who stood in the column’s heavy shadow. ‘They usually fight each other, raid and steal from their camps. They blood and burn each other in sacrifice! Why have they become allies?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Arkas. ‘I don’t know what the skaven have offered them, or what threats demanded this loyalty.’

It was a lie. The Warbeast knew exactly what had finally brought the tribes together, for it was the same thing he had exploited to become the Uniter. Fear. The skaven perhaps had instigated the union, and fuelled it with promises and payments, but it was fear that welded it together. The Stormcasts and news of their victories had moved swiftly through the mountains, doubtless made all the speedier by verminous messengers. One by one, the tribes of Chaos could be crushed, but together…

As Arka Bear-clad, he had sent the same message to free men and women, warning of the danger of the skaven in the deeps. The rewards for alliance coupled with the dangers of isolation meant that when a few clans had joined, the rest saw more benefit in friendship than enmity.

The tribes of Chaos were afraid of the Stormcasts, and had been promised the City of Ice. Their rivalries and hostility put to one side for a time, now was an opportunity to take that which they had desired for an age — to rid themselves of the thorn that had worried them for so many generations. Slay the Stormcasts and sweep into the City of Ice to kill the free people. And the skaven could happily trust that once their foes had been destroyed, the tribes would quickly fall back to old ways, fighting each other over the spoils.

‘See how they still march as tribes and warbands?’ he said to Ajfor. He could see where the different factions kept to themselves, each a distinct section of the whole, fault lines that could be exploited. ‘They are uncoordinated, and will fight piecemeal. They have no commander, just competing warlords. Some will try to let the others take the brunt of the fighting, some will be eager to earn themselves glory in the eyes of the Dark Gods.’