Chris Wright - Age of Sigmar - Omnibus

‘What are you doing, Lord-Celestant?’ asked Perun.

‘I would look upon this man that I have slain.’

The helm slid free. Unlike some they had slaughtered, the armour had not fused itself to the man’s flesh, and the face beneath was untouched by the warping power of Tzeentch. His eyes were closed, his face slack.

‘Look at him. In death there is no emotion, no wickedness. He seems to sleep, and his face could be that of any man.’

‘Aye, but it is not any man,’ said Perun. ‘He is a follower of Chaos, a traitor to all mortal kindreds. He bartered his soul away for power.’

‘He did,’ said Thostos. His gaze remained fixed upon the dead man’s face. ‘But I wonder how much choice he had in the matter. Did he take the road willingly, or was he forced down it at sword point, for fear of his family’s fate?’

‘We all had our choices, lord,’ said Perun angrily. ‘And we took a different way.’

‘Those were different times,’ said Thostos. ‘In those days men threw in their lot with the Dark Powers for gain, that is true. But to be born into this.’ He extended a hand and swept it around the barren mountainsides, the bare valley cloaked in thorny scrub. ‘What choice would he have?’

‘They die. We have our vengeance, that is what matters.’

‘Perhaps,’ said Thostos. He cast the helm aside. ‘But our anger might be better spared for the masters, and not the slaves.’

Already carrion birds were alighting upon the slain with a clatter of bronze feathers. Two spread their wings and darted their heads at one another. They hissed puffs of steam from pistons in their wings as they contested for the choicest scraps. A third hopped onto the chest of a fallen follower of Tzeentch and began nipping through the breastplate with a serrated beak of steel more akin to forge shears than the mouth of a living creature.

Thostos looked to the plateau in the west. The shapes of ruined buildings crazed the horizon. Behind them something massive shimmered, part obscured by distance and magic.

‘We draw close to the fortress,’ said Thostos. ‘The mightiest redoubt in this region. There we will find the lords of these lands, and we shall kill them.’

‘A worthy target for my hammer,’ said Perun.

As they proceeded west the sky cleared, and the land grew hotter the closer they drew to the city. The sun beat down on them as it crawled overhead, heating their sigmarite armour intolerably. The rocks and gritty soil of the region glinted with innumerable mineral fragments, a scintillation that was as disorienting as it was beautiful. The city wavered in the heat, parts of it vanishing in the haze so that it appeared the great tower at its heart floated on the air.

As they drew closer, the jagged shapes upon the cliff resolved themselves into a vast, eight-towered castle, far larger than they had anticipated. The fortress dominated the centre of Elixia, a plateau dense with metal ruins. Sharply angled walls of metal and stone rose high over the wreckage of the city, studded with long spikes and covered with thousands of glinting copper skulls. The castle’s heart was wholly of metal — an enormous tower, impossibly high. No mortal construction could have been made so tall.

Thostos raised his hand and the column of Bladestorms came to a halt.

‘This fortress is too great for us alone. Prosecutors!’

A group of winged warriors hurried to the head of the column. Thostos addressed them.

‘Fly with word to Lord-Celestant Cumulos, Lord-Celestant Vard and Lord-Castellant Barahan at the Bright Tor Gate. Tell them to send as many of our brothers as they can spare. After you have informed Eldroc, take the Silverway to Sigmaron. I will provide a message to our lord Sigmar, asking that he return the rest of the Celestial Vindicators to Anvrok. This realm will not be so easily won after all.’

From the balcony of his tower, Ephryx watched the Stormcast Eternals make camp. The bowl of gold showed him nothing useful at all, and he was forced to rely on a telescope. It was not as efficacious, of course, but through its crystal lenses he could at least count the men waiting on the plain. ‘Two hundred and seven,’ he said. He included in that number the winged figures looping around the fort at a safe distance.

‘And more on the way.’ Lord Maerac of Manticorea stood by the sorcerer, eating delicacies from a wide silver platter. He spat pips from his mouth over the side of the balcony and took up the leg of a fowl. With it he pointed to the northwest and the south west. ‘There, I count two more forces coming for you up the Silver River.’

Ephryx swung his telescope to the points Maerac indicated. Sure enough, heavy plumes of dust rose high into the orange sky. To make matters worse, a fresh storm gathered over the Bright Tor range. Thunder growled in the distance.

‘You say they arrive by lightning?’ said Maerac. ‘Oh my, you are in a difficult place, my friend.’ He laughed.

Ephryx looked up from his telescope. Maerac was a huge, broad-shouldered man, with a heavyset face beneath his bald scalp. The sorcerer wrinkled his nose and bared his teeth. Ephryx wisely hid his irritation from Kairos, but he had no qualms at all at displaying his anger to the likes of Maerac.

‘That may be, but it is they who are in a difficult place, not I.’

‘How so?’ asked Maerac. His tone made Ephryx’s skin crawl.

‘They have no idea of the might of this fortress.’

‘That’s why you need me,’ interjected Maerac.

‘And they have led us right to the Silverway!’ concluded Ephryx irritably.

‘Have they now?’ Maerac raised his eyebrows. ‘Is the Silverway outside your gates then, Mage Ephryx, because that is where our enemy appears to be.’

‘Do you doubt my word, lord? Look through this telescope and you will see the gate yourself. The illusion has been lowered.’ Ephryx swung the telescope around to point to the revealed duardin city, hazy with great distance, but visible if you knew where to look.

Maerac pointedly refused to take the telescope. ‘I always doubt your word, sorcerer. You are bent-minded. I’d no more trust a word you said than I would believe the whispered promises of Tzeentch himself. I see what you claim to be the Silverway all right, but I will not believe it to be so until you take me there and step through it with me.’

‘It is no illusion! It is as plain as the nose on your face!’

‘In that case, how very embarrassing that it was upon your doorstep all this time,’ said Maerac mildly. ‘When did you take up residence here again?’

‘You provide your service to me, and I will pay you as we discussed,’ said Ephryx.

‘Yes, I am sure I will, only to find that King Thrond is already on his way to the gate. That would make you clap, seeing us at open war.’

‘If he is, he will not break through until we have slain the Sigmarites upon the walls of this fortress. Do you really believe Thrond is mighty enough to better this army? You do not, otherwise you would go there yourself this moment. Do not play the fool with me, Maerac.’ Ephryx waved his hand. ‘I have no need to trick you. What do I care if you have the Silverway or not? It has never been my intention to leave this place. I remain only to perfect my fortress.’

‘They would tear it down if I were not here,’ said the lord. ‘Having seen this enemy, I should press you for greater payment. You are rich enough in gold and magic.’

‘You shall have the Silverway, be grateful of that. I shall be content with my buildings of flesh, steel and stone while you rampage across the eight realms.’

‘That I will. It has been too long since my warriors were tested. This moulding of worlds holds no interest for me,’ said Maerac. ‘It is tedious.’