Chris Wright - Age of Sigmar - Omnibus

‘I see. Is there more I can do for the great master?’ said Thing impertinently. ‘Perhaps to fetch for him refreshment, or a pretty potted fern? This chamber of yours is austere — it lacks a homely touch.’

‘Now it is you that mocks me, imp. And unlike Kairos, I am fully aware of your insolence.’ Fires sprang up from Ephryx’s hand around the daemonling.

‘Very well, very well!’ Thing squealed. ‘Sorry, so sorry.’

Ephryx snorted. The flames went out. Thing’s idiot head croaked.

‘Fly, Thing, and if you are swift, perhaps I might allow you an hour free from your jar.’

The imp nodded eagerly. ‘I am away, away!’ It spread its wings, the perfect imitations of Kairos’s own, and took flight. ‘Ow!’ chirruped Thing as its unwanted second head pecked at him. ‘Stop that!’ It veered sideways in flight as he slapped at it.

‘Away, Thing! Swiftly! There is no reward for tardiness,’ called Ephryx. Thing levelled out and flapped up and away, borne quickly on winds that blew through no earthly air.

‘A new game begins,’ said Ephryx, as he watched Thing ascend. He bit his lip with his needle teeth, bringing forth a bright jewel of coppery blood. He licked it away reflexively and chortled to himself, then went to gather his followers. Time to provoke a reaction from the invaders. Time to lure them in.

Thostos Bladestorm strode along the edge of a valley, Liberator-Prime Perun Goldhammer following him. Tawny dust hazed the vista, but could not conceal the country’s strangeness entirely. To begin with, there was its fragmented nature. The Hanging Valleys of Anvrok was a region of floating landmasses set in an ocean of air. Some, such as this land of Anvrok itself, were as large as continents. Others were only as modest as counties. The smallest grouped in shoals or were isolated rock, bearing lonely spiny trees or rough patchings of scrub that hung in tangles over their sides.

To the west a vast crucible floated in the sky, as expansive as an ocean, filled with inexhaustible molten silver. The silver fell from the lip of the crucible in two streams, the Argent Falls. Where one fall hit Anvrok it became a sluggish river, cutting through the vale of the metal-rich land which defined this country.

Even more awesome than the crucible was the serpent, a twisting behemoth whose silver-scaled coils spiralled away, down and down through the Voids of Chamon, seemingly without end. Over the horizon its vast head gaped, multicoloured flames roaring from jaws whited by distance. The beast shimmered in the heat given off by the falls and flames, giving it an elusive quality. It should have been an illusion. The thing was titanic: it could not possibly be alive, but live it did. The soft roar of its fiery breath was a constant in this odd land. The flames stirred hot winds from the air that scoured the valley from end to end. When the sun passed, there would be no true night. Argentine’s breath would not allow darkness.

Yet this bizarre place had once been populous and wealthy. There were signs of habitation everywhere, all long ruined.

A flash from above drew Thostos’s attention upwards. A Prosecutor wheeled on perfect wings of energy high overhead.

‘This way, Lord-Celestant!’

The warrior-herald pointed towards a slit in the rock. It looked like nothing to Thostos, just a crack.

But the crack was an artifice, stone cleverly fashioned to conceal. This fake outcrop masked a shallow valley, into which Thostos and Perun passed. Much industry had taken place there. Dozens of mine entrances opened in cliff faces that had been created by tools, unnaturally flat-faced and regular. Spoil was heaped in conical piles. No one had disturbed the ground here for many ages. Several of the mines had collapsed. Ancillary buildings stood roofless, their windows empty. The dry air preserved strange machinery, rusted the same colour as the ochre soil. This went on for five miles; Thostos followed the Prosecutor as he flew to the north.

Whole mountains had been cracked and scraped clean of their ore, but despite the staggering scale of the works on show, there were always more natural riches. Thostos and Perun went from the valley into another, untouched by pick or shovel, where there were the hints of yet more ore veins. Rocks that glittered with argentite, galena and haematite. In places nuggets of native copper and gold poked through the dirt, or were strewn on the ground, ready to be picked up.

Such wealth was staggering. Thostos supposed it was indicative of the duardin character that they had chosen to strip each area clean before moving on to the next.

Thostos and Perun went around a brooding mountain of black rock very different to the others. The Prosecutor had stopped, and was swooping back and forth, pointing downwards. The Lord-Celestant and his aide scrambled down a slope, dislodging a tumble of scree.

At the bottom they found themselves suddenly on an unlikely road, well-paved and level. They followed this. Shortly, two rows of Celestial Vindicators came into sight lining the route, cloaks stirring in the metallic breeze.

At the end of the road, Lord-Castellant Eldroc of Thostos’s own Warrior Chamber waited at the brink of a cliff. His gryph-hound Redbeak lay at his feet. The eagle-headed beast’s tail lashed with impatience.

‘Eldroc has been no luckier than we,’ said Perun. ‘More empty valleys.’

‘This one is more important than most,’ said Thostos.

‘There is nothing to kill,’ growled Perun. ‘Where is the foe?’

‘There will be killing soon enough, my friend.’

‘Lord-Celestant.’ Eldroc clashed his right hand against his breastplate and dipped his head. ‘What news of the duardin?’

‘None,’ said Thostos. ‘Their holds and mines are all about this place. Most are despoiled, others appear to have been abandoned. All are deserted. Of the duardin themselves there is no sign. The heralds search far and wide for them, but this land is deserted.’

‘I have found the same,’ said Eldroc.

‘Nought but dusty valleys and broken towns. No sign of mortal life anywhere,’ sighed Thostos.

‘You hoped for better, Lord-Celestant? I hear other realms have fared worse under the yoke of Chaos,’ said Eldroc.

Thostos grumbled. ‘I always hope for better, Lord-Castellant, but I expect the worst.’

‘I have reports from the Fireblades and the Storm Masters that they have taken the Bright Tor Gate in the face of minimal resistance. You might wish to revise your expectations.’

‘They have at least had the chance to slay,’ said Perun.

‘Show me what you have discovered,’ said Thostos. ‘The rest of our chamber search the northern valleys. There are signs of beast-creatures there.’

‘If our brothers come upon the enemy, I wish to be at their side,’ said Perun.

‘Yes,’ said Eldroc. ‘I wish the same for myself.’

‘If you have found the Silverway, you will get your vengeance before me,’ said Perun.

‘Maybe, Liberator-Prime.’ Eldroc took up his halberd and warding lantern from the ground. ‘Redbeak! Come.’

Eldroc led Thostos and Perun to the top of a set of stairs carved into the cliff. A crack followed the stairs, allowing in daylight.

‘From the outside this crack appears to be a simple fault in the stone, the stairway is artfully concealed,’ said Eldroc. ‘The duardin were fond of hiding. Most settlements we have approached have grand entrances, but there are many more that are disguised in some way or another.’

‘The folk of Grungni ever were secretive,’ said Thostos. ‘Lord Sigmar warned us of that. It would help if they were not. How are we to bring them to our cause if they cannot be found?’