Chris Wright - Age of Sigmar - Omnibus

Salvation.

The bolts from blackened skies meant salvation for Gardus and his remaining warriors. Sigmar had answered their prayers. Annihilation had seemed inevitable. Now, however, as more lightning strikes speared down, illuminating the cloying darkness of the Fen, the hordes pressing against his dwindling forces lessened. The daemons turned to face the new threat.

Gardus signalled for Tegrus and his small group of Prosecutors to take wing. ‘Clear a corridor in that sea of filth. I would meet our allies face to face,’ he said, as the winged warriors took flight.

Whatever host the other Stormcasts belonged to, he was glad to see them, though he wondered if they had arrived too late. Only a few of Solus’s Judicators still stood, and Aetius’s Liberators were equally hard-pressed — the once impenetrable shieldwall had shattered into a number of smaller retinues, all of which were in danger of being overwhelmed. The few remaining Retributors stood clustered about Gardus, hammers ready despite aching arms. Even so, their duty was clear, and if they had any hope of reaching the Gates of Dawn, now was the time. ‘We cannot waste this opportunity. Aetius, Solus, we must take back the initiative from our foes,’ he said. ‘You know what to do. I will take the lead.’

‘Where you go, we follow,’ Aetius said. He stumbled, but stayed on his feet. Solus caught his arm. The Judicator-Prime had drawn his gladius, the blade wet with daemonic ichor, and gestured towards the realmgate.

‘Though perhaps not very far — look!’

Gardus turned and saw that Bolathrax had at last noticed the new arrivals. The daemon’s sneering features had taken on a look of uncertainty, as if he had not factored such an occurrence into his plans. Any hope Gardus felt at that realization died as Bolathrax roared out a command and, as one, the six remaining rotguard lumbered into battle, flails whirling viciously. The skull-headed weapons wreaked havoc as the daemons staved in the thinned ranks of the Hallowed Knights. Liberators were smashed from one realm and sent to the next by great, thundering blows, tossing silver-clad bodies high into the air. Shields did little against the crushing strength of the greater daemons, shattering the swords or hammers which were interposed.

Unstoppable, Gardus thought, they’re unstoppable. He pushed the thought away. Nothing was unstoppable. Bigger and stronger maybe, but not unstoppable. ‘To me,’ he shouted, swinging his hammer towards the creatures. ‘Hallowed Knights, to me!’ He looked up, and caught Tegrus’s eye. The Prosecutor banked smoothly, altering direction with unearthly grace. His warriors followed suit, and the Prosecutors shot towards the rotguard. Gardus followed them at a run, his warriors flowing after him as he led the counterattack. Slowly, but surely, they fought their way through plaguebearers and nurglings.

‘We are here, Lord-Celestant,’ Solus said, as his gladius took off a plaguebearer’s swordhand at the wrist. He punched the befuddled creature off its feet, as it stared dumbly at its stump. He and Aetius moved on either side of Gardus, protecting his flanks.

‘We must…’ Gardus began. His voice trailed off as several of the vile behemoths halted their onslaught to vomit forth streams of corruption, washing toxic filth over the closest Hallowed Knights. One of the beasts turned with a querulous grunt as it noticed Gardus’s counterattack. Knowing what was coming, Gardus quickly raised his hammer and held it parallel to the ground. ‘Shields up,’ he commanded. As one, the Liberator brotherhoods behind him raised their shields over their heads, in order to protect themselves and the Judicators from the Great Unclean One’s vomit. Aetius stepped forward, raising his shield over himself and Gardus as the acidic bile splashed over them. It sizzled where it struck the sigmarite. The smell was horrendous, and nurglings sprouted where the bile struck the ground. The giggling creatures got under their feet and clung to their ankles.

‘Foul mites,’ Aetius snarled, stamping on the creatures.

‘Ignore them,’ Gardus said. ‘Tegrus!’ he shouted. ‘Bring that creature to its knees, O Sainted Eye.’

Gardus extended his runeblade towards the rotguard that had vomited on them, and the Prosecutors hurtled forward. Celestial Hammers struck the greater daemon from every direction, filling the air with the stink of burned flesh. The rotguard dropped its flail and howled in anger and pain. Trying to catch its quick-moving attackers, the daemon swiped blindly at the Prosecutors. Tegrus sped down, diving like a bird of prey, and landed atop the creature’s helm, his hammers cracking down simultaneously with a sound like thunder to punch a crater in the beast’s armour. The greater daemon staggered, sinking to one knee with a dolorous moan as Tegrus pushed himself back into the air with a single snap of his holy wings.

‘Forward,’ Gardus growled.

Liberators and Retributors moved forward, and soon lightning-wreathed hammers and blades forged in celestial fires were taking a toll on the rotguard’s necrotic flesh. The greater daemon swiped and tore at the Stormcast, but to no avail. Slowly it was brought down to one knee.

‘Shields up,’ Gardus said, as he strode forward.

Four Liberators formed up in front of him, two kneeling, and two standing. All four raised their shields over their heads at an angle. Gardus took a running leap. Swiftly, he charged up the incline provided by the shields, his hammer held in both hands.

The rotguard sagged forward, its oily flesh torn by wounds and steam and smoke rising from it. Gardus sprang into the air above it, his hammer raised. The creature twisted, goggling up at him as he dropped towards it. Sigmar, guide my hand, for I strike in your name, Gardus prayed in the moment before impact.

He struck with a sound like thunder, his warhammer splitting the Great Unclean One’s head like an overripe fruit. Gardus crashed down, landing in a crouch, as the headless body of the daemon fell over. A tarry liquid spilled out of its ruptured neck and crept across the ground around his feet. His men cheered as he stood, swiping his hand out.

‘Who will succeed?’ he asked. A plaguebearer leapt over the broken husk of the rotguard and slashed at his head. As Gardus defended himself, he saw more plaguebearers climbing over the body, and leaping to the attack.

‘Only the faithful,’ came the reply, as his men fought back. Gardus backhanded his opponent and looked out over the battlefield. His remaining retinues had engaged the other rotguard to limited success. He’d lost sight of Solus and Aetius, separated in the melee. Tegrus spun through the air above, arrowing towards another of the rotguard with his Prosecutors. Daemons closed in from all sides of Gardus, intent on swarming him under, as they had so many of his warriors.

‘Only the faithful,’ he roared, lopping off a plaguebearer’s arm as it tried to drive its sword into his side. ‘Fight, my brothers. Fight and show Sigmar that the faithful yet stand. Show him that whatever else, the faithful yet remain! The faithful still fight in his name. Only the faithful!’

‘Only the faithful!’ a new voice roared, over the clamour of battle. Gardus turned and saw a flash of amethyst as a blade cleaved a daemon in two. All at once, he knew who had come to their aid.

‘Ho, Gardus,’ Zephacleas said. ‘I see you saved some for me! Always the thoughtful one you are, Steel Soul.’

Laughing, Gardus’s fellow Lord-Celestant backhanded a plaguebearer with his hammer, dropping the daemon in mid-lunge. As it tried to squirm to its feet, he drove his blade down into its belly and pinned it to the ground. The daemon stiffened, shrieked and fell silent as Zephacleas ripped his blade free and joined Gardus. The two fought back to back for a moment, as around them a small detachment of Astral Templars bolstered the dwindling ranks of the Hallowed Knights.