Chris Wright - Age of Sigmar - Omnibus

‘It is not our part to guess the ways of the God-King,’ said Theuderis. ‘Which is fortunate, for I am baffled that he would set me beside the Warbeast. I cannot help but feel it is some kind of test. Perhaps the Lord Sigmar wishes to know if I am strong enough to return to the Glittering Breaches and whatever waits for me there.’

Tyrathrax said nothing, which was why Theuderis considered her the best of all possible companions.

The fires had guttered down to embers and the Ursungorans were nothing more than shapeless lumps of shadow in bedrolls and blankets, huddled close to each other and the remnants of the fires. Dawn had arrived on the far side of Ursungorod, but had not yet reached the valley of the Bear’s Pelt. The air was freezing, and mist curled from the breath of the Stormcasts as they stood watch. The Warbeast sat atop a broad log, his back to the fires, gazing out into the shadowed forest.

The Ursungorans might have been driven from their city, but they were at home in the wilds too. Just as when Arkas had been a warrior of the Greypelt, the people of the mountains were nomads by necessity and long tradition, and had brought with them everything they needed. They lived lightly, able to hunt and trap on the move, sharing kinship with the wilderness that went beyond familiarity. They were part of Ursungorod, steeped in the magic of Ghur, their collective instincts honed by a lifetime of wariness and bitter experience.

It had been a long night and the morning bode little better. A few more refugees from the City of Ice had arrived, but there was still no sign of Katiya. Accounts conflicted. Some had her safe and well in the southern tunnels, others thought they saw her turn to fight the tide of rats, protecting the young ones she had taken with her. A few thought they had seen her on the ice field, tirelessly rallying survivors in the darkness. None could say they had seen her fall, but Arkas held little hope to see her.

Theuderis had been absent also, gone into the woods since his sharp words with Arkas. The Silverhands made no remark about their missing leader, but minded themselves and their duties with quiet diligence. For their part, the Warbeasts prowled the camp and surrounding woods like guard hounds confined within a wall.

To ease communication, Arkas had spent some time instructing the Knights Excelsior in the language of Ursungorod, refining what they had already learnt so that they could talk with the Ursungorans and also understand the battle-tongue of the Warbeasts. Being able to address the natives, and understand them in return, eased the mood somewhat.

A glint of celestial light betrayed the descent of Hastor. He had spent the night scouring the Bear’s Pelt for survivors and foes. He landed effortlessly, as though newly forged, with no sign of fatigue in his gait or voice.

‘A rough time,’ said Hastor, gauging his commander’s mood. He looked around at the sleeping Ursungorans. ‘Four hundred, I would say. There will be others still below the ice.’

‘Four hundred and thirty-six,’ replied Arkas. ‘Three hundred and eight of fighting age and ability. Half those that woke yesterday dawn.’

‘When they have rested, we will search the city for others,’ said the Knight-Venator. ‘I have crossed the opposite slopes but if they are choosing to hide, which would be wise, even I would not find them.’ Hastor glanced up, about to say something further, but remained silent.

‘You would prefer someone to light your way?’ said Arkas, following Hastor’s gaze to the slowly circling Knights-Azyros. ‘They are not my warriors to command.’

‘The Silverhand has chosen an inconvenient time to go exploring. When dawn arrives we must be ready with a plan.’

‘We do not need Theuderis for that.’ Arkas straightened his back and stretched out his long legs. ‘You are right, we search the City of Ice for other survivors. One day, that is all.’

Hastor’s lightning wings crackled into nothing to allow him to sit next to his lord. He clasped his hands together, resting his arms on his knees. He did not look at Arkas, but at the Knights Excelsior standing like statues at the edge of the encampment.

‘I do not think Theuderis will agree.’ The Knight-Venator paused for just a heartbeat, and then continued. ‘He might be right not to.’

‘The realmgate,’ Arkas said with a nod and a sigh. ‘I know.’

‘What will we do?’

Activity off to the left drew the Warbeast’s attention before he could reply. Theuderis had returned and his officers were moving across the camp to attend to him. Dismounting, the Silverhand approached with his retinue.

Arkas felt others behind him and glanced round to see that Doridun and Dolmetis were at his back as though summoned. How much of his conversation with Hastor they had overheard he did not know but he was grateful for their timely arrival.

‘A nice ride, Lord Silverhand?’ Hastor asked as Theuderis stopped in front of Arkas.

‘Hush your tongue, knight,’ the Warbeast growled. Hastor stood and stepped away, head bowed in apology. Arkas rose and folded his arms. ‘I hope you spent your time in the wood productively.’

‘I did,’ replied Theuderis. ‘And with Samat’s aid I have located the entrances by which we will attack the skaven city.’

‘You have?’ Arkas looked at the Knight-Azyros. ‘I did not realise you knew the mountains so well already.’

‘The vermintide trail was not difficult to follow even at night, and the skaven here have grown arrogant. Their spoil and spoor is evident everywhere.’ Samat glanced at Theuderis and received a nod of assent. ‘There is a large cavern on the other side of this mountain, across a ridge to the south-east.’

‘I know it,’ said Arkas. ‘Flanked by the remains of two human towers?’

‘That is the one.’

‘We cannot attack there,’ Arkas said with a shake of his head. ‘The skaven use it easily enough but there is a chasm not more than three hundred paces into the warren. They will cut the bridges and topple the crossings the moment we enter.’

‘I see,’ said Theuderis. ‘And the gorge west of there, an outflow of an underground river.’

‘The Ratway it was called. Obvious, but possible.’ Arkas flexed his fingers around an imaginary sword hilt, remembering when he had last been there. ‘I tried that before, but was baulked on the surface. However, I did not have Stormcast Eternals to lead back then. But it would not be enough, there are too many other ways for the skaven to get out and come in behind.’

‘Do you have a better plan?’ said Attaxes, stepping forwards. ‘If you know these mountains so well, find us a way to attack the skaven.’

‘I already have,’ said Arkas, keeping his gaze locked on Theuderis. ‘But you knew that, yes?’

‘Our success cannot rely wholly on your survival, Warbeast.’ The Silverhand shrugged. ‘Or your mood.’

Arkas laughed, slapping a hand to his chest.

‘My mood? Yes, my infamous temperament!’ He turned to his knights, put a foot up on the log, a hand resting on his knee. ‘Headstrong, that’s me. Incautious, they say. Rash, perhaps. What do we say?’

‘Swift and deadly,’ the Warbeast officers replied in unison.

‘Swift and deadly…’ Arkas returned his attention to Theuderis. ‘I understand. As hard as it is for you to share command, it is the same for me. Do you want to know my plan? Do you think I would keep it secret, bargaining with my knowledge for time to search the glacier for Ursungorans?’

‘It had occurred to me,’ Theuderis admitted. ‘It seems we know each other well enough.’

‘We do, Silverhand. We do. Which is why I want you to lead us.’