Chris Wright - Age of Sigmar - Omnibus

‘You told me he was here,’ Kruk said, stubbornly. The daemon had lied. That was the only explanation… the daemon had lied to him. It was playing a game, testing him, but Kruk was not one to submit to such things. He had the weight of destiny on his side, yes, destiny and fate. He did not need a conniving daemon to lie to him and tell him falsehoods, no-no, he was Kruk. Kruk! And Kruk was surrounded by traitors. He glared about him, his remaining claw clenching. He longed for a throat to tear out. Sensing his mood, Skug and the others edged back, rattling their chains nervously.

‘And so he was,’ Skuralanx said. The daemon fixed him with a glare. ‘But he is not here now. He is there, Kruk, and he has the Liber — take it for me! Take it and you will be rewarded beyond all skaven.’ The verminlord leaned towards him. ‘Do as I command, Kruk… or face the consequences,’ the daemon growled, his bifurcated tail lashing.

Kruk hunched forward, shrinking into himself. He was not afraid of the daemon. Kruk feared nothing. Not the daemon, not the storm, not even the star-devils. He was Kruk. He exposed his fangs, but did not meet the daemon’s eyes. No, he didn’t fear it, but neither could he win a fight with it, not yet at any rate. When he had the Liber, though, oh yes, then he would challenge the daemon. He would show Skuralanx who was in charge, oh yes-yes.

‘I will do as you command, O most cunning of shadows,’ Kruk said, casting a challenging gaze at his followers, daring them to snicker or enjoy his humiliation in any way.

Screams and squeals rose from outside. Kruk heard the sizzle-crack of lightning-wings and something swooped by the open chamber, hurtling towards the courtyard below. Alarm bells rang and doom gongs sounded.

‘The enemy are here. Run, Kruk, run now-now,’ Skuralanx snarled. He sprang into the shadows, vanishing in a moment. Kruk sucked on his teeth.

‘They are coming, hrr? Yes-yes,’ he grunted, glaring at the shadows. He was beginning to suspect that the daemon was not so cunning as he’d first thought. ‘Yes, I will run. I will claim our prize, daemon. But…’ He swung his head about, and fixed Skug with his eye. ‘Vrrretch has left us a gift, Skug. It would be foolish to ignore it, yes? Yes-yes.’

‘I do not understand, O most gaseous one,’ Skug grunted, peering at him in confusion.

‘You do not have to. I understand, and that is enough,’ Kruk said, tapping the side of his skull. ‘Look-look, my servants. Smell, see…’ he growled, indicating the cages. ‘A gift, yes, and intended for us, I think. And we shall make use of it, yes-yes!’ The thought amused him no end. Vretch had clearly intended the things in the gibbets as a trap for unwary raiders; sneaky, tricksy Vretch, treacherous Vretch… useful Vretch. Kruk licked his scarred muzzle and glared at the closest gibbet and the twitching body within. He looked at Skug. ‘You will lead them up here, and spring the trap, my most loyal and faithful Skug.’

‘I… I will?’ Skug said, his eyes widening.

‘Yesss. See how I honour the Reeking Choir? See what gifts I bestow upon my most faithful followers?’ Kruk extended his censer and prodded Skug’s rotting snout. ‘See how I give up the taste of victory, for you, my most reliable and trustworthy Skug. Do not fail me, Skug. Or I will gnaw your guts for days.’

Mantius Far-killer swooped low over the Setaen Palisades. Skaven scurried everywhere through the smoke-filled courtyard, fleeing his shadow. There were more than he’d thought there’d be, and they were making enough noise for three times their number. Gongs, bells and shrilling chants rose up to meet him. Sigmar guide my aim, he thought, loosing arrows as he plummeted down. Aurora shrieked past him, claws wide.

He and the star-eagle had followed the daemon’s trail across the city. It was wounded, hurting, and the hunter in him yearned to finish it off. Such a creature was far too dangerous to be allowed to roam free. In the Jade Kingdoms, such monsters had been lodestones, drawing skaven to them in untold numbers. It seemed that was the case here as well. He had to draw it out and destroy it, before the skaven gathered in numbers enough to threaten his brethren and their strange, reptilian allies.

Zephacleas and the others were close now, advancing on the Setaen Palisades in force. There was no sign of the seraphon vanguard, and he suspected the skaven had killed them. He could hear the thunder of his Prosecutors’ hammers and the echoing shrieks of the seraphon flyers in the distance as they converged on his position, cutting off the skaven’s routes of retreat and attack as they came. But swift as they were, they would not reach the palisades before the skaven had regrouped and made ready to defend it. It was up to him to keep the enemy in disarray, by any means necessary.

He loosed arrow after arrow and skaven died, their robed forms pinned to the ground. They fled before his shadow as he swooped overhead. He rolled through the air, passing between the wooden structures which lined the strange, suppurating holes in the worm’s flesh. Skaven clung to the towers, and scrambled towards the upper platforms, shrieking and waving foetid blades at him threateningly. He aimed himself towards the cages he saw scattered about the courtyard. There were almost a hundred mortals trapped in those stinking constructions, perhaps more. Squealing skaven leapt at him, driven to suicidal extremes by fear and frenzy.

Mantius twisted and banked, avoiding some. Others he smashed from the air with his wings or his bow. Its sigmarite length crushed bone and pulped flesh as easily as a hammer. He flew the gauntlet and dropped from the air to land on one of the cages. The scent of illness and gangrene rose from those trapped within. Hands reached up through the cage, clutching at his legs. ‘Back,’ he roared. He tore an arrow from his quiver and slashed the point across the bindings holding the cage together, and with a kick, burst it wide.

‘Now — out, quickly,’ he said. Skaven scurried towards the cage, squealing in outrage. He readied and fired arrows as quickly as he could. Nock and loose, nock and loose, he thought, emptying his mind of all but that lethal rhythm. The cage shivered beneath his feet as men and women fought to further widen the gap he had created. Good. Some of them at least were taking advantage of the opportunity he’d afforded them.

‘Fight, sons and daughters of Shu’gohl,’ he shouted. ‘Fight for your lives.’

As he spoke, he heard Aurora shriek in warning. He flung himself backwards in the nick of time. Two curved scythe-like blades drew sparks from Mantius’ chest and back as the verminlord’s weight knocked him from the air. They rolled across the top of the cage, trading blows. Mantius’ wings burnt furrows in the cage as he slid across it, the verminlord atop him. The daemon slashed its blades down at him, and he interposed his bow, grunting as the blows connected. ‘Aurora,’ he called out.

The star-eagle shrieked and darted down, clawing hunks out of the verminlord. For a moment, the Knight-Venator thought the raptor might drive the daemon off as it had before. But the verminlord was ready this time. As the bird swooped around it, the daemon ducked beneath her talons and impaled the raptor on one of its blades. Aurora shrieked in pain as cancerous strands spread through her flesh and tore her apart from the inside out.

Mantius’ heart lurched with pain and sorrow as the bird vanished in a burst of starlight and lightning. I am sorry, my friend — return to the stars, and hunt anew, he thought. Bow in both hands, he smashed it across the daemon’s shaggy head. It staggered, and he struck it again and again, battering it mercilessly. Its weapons clattered to the ground, and he drove it to one knee. As he made to strike it again, the daemon twisted and caught his bow in one claw. It wrenched the bow from his grip as it kicked him in the chest.