War storm, p.13
War Storm, page 13
‘Plain for you to see.’ Thostos took in the clean lines of the carving, unsoftened by time and unmarked by violence. ‘There is no taste of Chaos here at all. Even if the damned had not found it, I would have expected this place to be the lair of a beast. But there is no sign, past or present. It is as if it has been hidden for centuries. It is almost as if we were meant to find it.’
‘That is what Lord-Relictor Cryden suggests, in fact, my lord. That the duardin hid this place from the enemies of their god Grungni…’ began Eldroc.
‘But not from his allies,’ concluded Thostos. His sigmarite armour rattled quietly as he walked the length of the gate and back.
‘There is more, Lord-Celestant.’ Eldroc nodded to the men guarding the gate. One went to the far side of the chamber. It was so wide it took him a minute to run the distance. Once there he raised his hammer and tapped at the stone.
‘Are we to become miners, Eldroc?’ asked Thostos.
‘Watch,’ said Eldroc. He signalled the men by the gate. They placed their hands into the mouth cavities of two of the smaller figures in the frieze.
The ground rumbled. A low hum followed. The runes upon the gate burned brightly blue.
The rock chamber flickered. One moment the Stormcasts were within a giant cavern, the next they stood upon a platform set into the open mountainside. All around them were stout ruins. Where the far chamber wall had been, a wide road led down from the Silverway, passing over several landings and sweeping flights of stairs as it descended. Then the bare rocky slopes many hundreds of yards in all directions wavered and vanished. In their stead a duardin town followed the road down the mountain. To the left and right, a vista covering all the vale of Anvrok was open to the Stormcast Eternals. Warm sun basked Thostos’s face. The only element that remained unchanged was the hidden path by which he had come to the Silverway. It still came out of the stone by the gate, its entrance dark in the sun.
‘Now that is impressive,’ Thostos said, sweeping his gaze over the view. ‘Such art! I have never heard of an illusion so great in scope to hide a whole city, excepting Sigmar’s cloak about Azyr.’
‘The city is desolate, abandoned like all the rest,’ said Perun. ‘Disappointingly so.’
‘You have a point,’ conceded Thostos. The buildings had been hidden from prying eyes, but unlike the gate had suffered the effects of time and weather. Many were surrounded by skirts of detritus cracked by frost and the sun’s heat on the walls. Roofs had fallen in. Windows were eyeless holes that the wind blew mournfully through.
‘If the duardin intended us to find this, why can we not find them?’ asked Eldroc.
The men stared at the gate a moment.
‘Does it work?’ asked Thostos. ‘Is the way still open?’
Lord-Castellant Eldroc raised a hand. A herald of their chamber stepped from the knot of Stormcast Eternals at Eldroc’s back, his bearing proud, detached, his heavy helmet tucked under one arm. The mechanisms of his wings were folded, the feathers of light extinguished. He announced himself, his voice sonorous and clean and somewhat hollow behind the warmask, like the voices of all the reforged.
‘Prosecutor-Prime Martius the Swift, of the Skyblood Angelos Conclave.’
‘Speak, Martius,’ said Thostos.
‘I have returned to Sigmaron upon this road, my lord. It works exactly as our lord Sigmar said it should. Beyond the arch is a tunnel, fair made and well-dressed in stone. As one follows this, the cold of the utterdark gathers about the traveller, until all is black and freezing as the dark before time. Then there is a second arch, like the gate before us but twice as finely wrought. This entrance here is not the gate, but the path to the Silverway. Blackness and starlight wait beyond, but I trusted the word of our God-King and stepped out into the void, uttering six of the names of Azyr as I did so. And lo! A road of silver rose up beneath my feet, and stretched on, shining as with the light of the pure moons of Azyr. Five steps I took upon this endless road, finding myself in the Gardens of Celerity, nigh to the road leading to Sigmaron. The legends do not speak falsely.’
‘There was no way back through the realmgate that you exited?’
‘None. It closed behind me without trace. I was taken there, and left. I returned by Sigmar’s own hand.’
‘And there is nothing untowards upon the road?’
‘It is pure and unsullied. No trace of Chaos’s mark upon it.’
‘Then the key part of our crusade is concluded.’ Thostos laughed. In truth, he, Eldroc and the others of the Bladestorms wished for vengeance before success. ‘Sigmar will see this as a great triumph.’
‘Indeed he does,’ said Eldroc. ‘A part of the Stormhost has been ordered to return to Azyr.’
Thostos raised his eyebrows at his Lord-Castellant questioningly. ‘And?’
‘Not us, my lord. Our own Bladestorm is to remain here, as are the Fireblades and the Doombringers. The Harbingers of Vengeance are to remain on guard upon the Bright Tor Gate under Lord-Castellant Barahan. Others will set out to the west and south, and to Denvrok, to widen the search for the duardin.’
Thostos nodded, visibly relieved. ‘That is good. We shall have our vengeance yet.’
‘Maybe, maybe not, my lord,’ said Perun.
Thostos looked over the officers and champions of Eldroc’s cohort. All of them radiated frustration.
‘We are all Celestial Vindicators,’ he said, raising his voice so that all might hear him. ‘Here by dint of our great desire for vengeance. I see much impatience, a desire to close with the foe and smite him hard, to rend and destroy those foul traitors who turned their backs upon the gods and embraced the impure power of Chaos.’ His voice boomed from the cliff. ‘Fear not, my brothers, we shall have vengeance, each and every one of us, over and over again from now until the close of eternity ushers long night upon the Mortal Realms and all those that lie beyond them. Do not see the ease with which this gate was found as a disappointment, no! For by this road of the duardin our hammers might make their presence felt on a thousand times a thousand battlefields. Better we test our mettle later in many wars than in the single one. Do not despair, O Celestial Vindicators, we shall have the blood of ten thousand enemies in recompense for the lives of our families and the destruction of our nations.’
‘Well said, my lord,’ said Eldroc.
‘You do not appear satisfied, Lord-Castellant.’
‘I yearn to fight,’ admitted Eldroc.
Thostos clapped his hand upon the arm of his lieutenant. ‘As do I, Eldroc, as do I.’
‘Others will have their chance sooner than we, I think,’ said Eldroc. ‘I have the orders for the Bladestorms. I can guess their content.’
A scroll was brought out by Eldroc’s aide. Thostos read it quickly. When he was done he rolled it up again, whereupon it burst into flames and went to nothing.
‘We are to stay and guard the gate.’
Eldroc nodded. ‘Of course.’
‘I understand your desire to go out and fight, Lord-Castellant.’ Thostos looked upward to the pale sky, as if he might see Sigmar up there, staring back down at him. ‘This task of holding the Silverway I would entrust to none other but you, Eldroc,’ he said. ‘You are among the finest of all Lord-Castellants, a master of defensive warfare.’
‘Nevertheless, I do not know whether to be angry or relieved,’ said Eldroc. ‘The others will be sent on to realms where battle rages already.’ He rested his lantern upon the sand and gripped his halberd tightly. ‘Their chance at vengeance comes before ours.’
‘Or our fellows still present here might find nothing, and those sent home find themselves in reserve in the Golden City,’ said Thostos.
‘You don’t believe that, I think, Lord-Celestant.’
‘No,’ snorted Thostos. ‘Not really. But I also do not believe this ease will hold. This land appears empty, but has long been under the dominion of the master schemer. There are beastmen, and others will come once tidings of our arrival spread. Our presence will have been noted. Can the process of concealment be reversed?’
‘Yes, Lord-Celestant.’ Eldroc’s voice was heavy with disappointment. He raised his arm, and his warriors moved back to the gate’s guardian statues.
‘Stay your hand, Lord-Castellant,’ said Thostos. ‘Let us leave the Silverway open to view. Let it be a signal to the forces of Chaos that not all the works of the ancients were cast down, and that we come in open war to reclaim them. We are not skulking whelps. Let them see this and rage. The enemy will come against us soon enough. Of that I have no doubt.’
The posture of the Celestial Vindicators around the gate changed. They stood taller. Whispers passed among them, urgent with the anticipation of battle.
‘Then I await them with eagerness in my heart,’ said Eldroc. ‘I thank you, my lord.’
CHAPTER SIX
The calm before the storm
With the haunting call of trumpets, three chambers of Celestial Vindicators marched up through the revealed city of the duardin and into the tunnel of the Silverway.
They came up the road five abreast, the tramp of their feet and rattle of their armour echoing from the mountainsides and their songs soaring to the peaks.
The remainder of the Bladestorms came first, joining with Eldroc’s cohort, and stood aside to let their brothers by. Warrior after warrior marched on, their Celestants, Castellants, Vexillors and Relictors leading. Dracoths huffed and growled, reluctant to leave Chamon. There were ranks of bow-carrying Judicators, hammer-wielding Retributors, winged Prosecutors and grim Liberators, their wargear gleaming and standards waving.
Thostos saluted his brother commanders as they went past. Such was their presence that it seemed their passage would never end, a turquoise stream of thwarted avengers doomed to pass through the gate over and over.
But it did end. As the day darkened into night and the Alchemist’s Moon made itself known in the sky, the last of the departing warriors went into the tunnel. The sound of their march persisted long after the final few ranks had vanished into the dark, until the sound stopped suddenly.
‘They have passed onto the Silver Road and out of Chamon,’ said Eldroc.
‘A sight to move the heart, the warriors of Sigmar marching openly in Chamon,’ said Thostos. He took in his Warrior Chamber, standing in ranks, cloaks stirring in the warm wind. The entirety of the Bladestorms now guarded the Silverway. Most were arrayed before the entrance – all but fifty, who kept watch on the entrance to the canyon approach.
‘And yet Sigmar has us waiting here, in this wasteland,’ said Eldroc.
Redbeak woke from his slumber, and with head cocked he fixed a keen eye upon a spot in the sky over the desolate city. A star winked there in the evening, and came nearer. A moment later a winged figure became apparent, a Prosecutor messenger. He flew in and alighted before the gate.
‘Any news?’ asked Thostos.
‘Little, Lord-Celestant. We have found scattered signs of mortal settlement, and the refuse of beastherds. There is a great fortress to the south, in the ruins of the city Elixia. Otherwise, this land is empty of inhabitants.’
‘That is valuable news,’ said Thostos. ‘Tomorrow we shall send more scouts to look upon it. If it is a great redoubt of the enemy, there we will find our first chance at vengeance.’
The Prosecutor bowed his head.
‘What of the area hereabouts?’ asked Eldroc.
‘Nothing, my lord. Dead as it was before. Nothing comes or goes.’
‘And the duardin?’
‘The Knights-Azyros seek them still, and have gone into the higher peaks. The Fireblades Chamber have crossed the Silver River and make for the cliffs of the Vaulten Range. They have seen no further sign of habitation there, old or new. Lord-Celestant Cumulos of the Harbingers of Vengeance bid me inform you that his men have uncovered workings of the duardin near to the river. There are manufactories, but they are ruinous and devoid of life, and have been so for a long time. He and that portion of his brotherhood not with Barahan proceed westwards, towards the great silver sky wyrm, in the hope of some more recent sign of them.’
‘Then here was where they dwelt. This was their capital. It is as we feared,’ said Eldroc.
‘These mountains are riddled with their workings. This is no outlying region, but the centre of their country,’ said Thostos.
‘It appears so, my lord. Further out, the cities are those of men, not Grungni’s folk,’ said the herald.
‘Very well. Return to your patrolling, Prosecutor. Bring any news, any at all, as soon as you have it.’
‘Yes, Lord-Celestant.’ The Prosecutor leaped skywards, his wings bearing him up in a blaze of light. Eldroc envied him his freedom.
‘He flies, we wait,’ said Thostos, echoing Eldroc’s thoughts.
‘I am bound to the path of defender, my lord. Sigmar remade me to keep his fortresses and guard places such as this. I do his bidding gladly.’
‘And yet you still envy our Prosecutor brother,’ said Thostos.
Eldroc did not reply, but could not help looking south towards the location of the fortress. There was no sign of the enemy yet, and the night was deepening.
CHAPTER SEVEN
First blood
‘Fire! Blue fire comes!’ The shout echoing from the watch upon the clifftop was urgent and joyful. ‘The enemy shows himself!’ A Celestial Vindicator pointed southward, to where a flickering ball of blue light danced across the early morning sky.
‘To arms! To arms!’ shouted Thostos eagerly. ‘Finally, my brothers, we shall have the vengeance we so crave! To arms! To arms! Eldroc, hold the eastern end of the platform. I shall take the west.’
‘Aye, my lord,’ said Eldroc, and went to do his lord’s bidding, Redbeak screeching at his heels.
Horns blasted, calling the Stormcast Eternals to order. With a rattle of armour, they readied themselves in front of the duardin gate. A semicircle of Liberators stood shoulder to shoulder and locked their shields. In front of them went a line of Judicators, their skybolt bows crackling into life.
‘Ware! Ware!’ a shout came down from above. ‘The fire has gone!’
All eyes went to the horizon. Eldroc swept his gaze over the early morning sky.
Then it was upon them.
The ball of witchfire burst from nowhere opposite the realmgate, expanding from a sphere no larger than a shield to create a crackling wave fifty yards or more across. Blue flame tips flared magenta and orange, green and violet. Howling, laughing faces appeared in the fire, snatched away only to be replaced by more horrors. The glare of it was harsh, searing as lightning but loaded with dark magics. It hurt the eyes and the soul to look upon.
‘Judicators, loose!’ shouted Eldroc.
Lightning flared, pitting its purer light against the dark radiance of the fire. Methodically the Judicators sent volley after volley of stormbolts into the approaching firewall. But they clanged against the flames with the sound of struck metal. Their lightning went out, and they fell to the ground.
‘Loose!’ ordered Eldroc.
The Judicators’ aim was true. Not a bolt missed its mark, but every missile was stopped as surely as an axe blow is turned by sigmarite. The flames grew to encompass the breadth of the platform. The runes of the duardin gate spat sparks as they were caressed by unclean light. There was no heat from the flames, but they radiated a dull prickliness that set Eldroc’s teeth on edge. The energies contained within his body reacted, writhing across his war harness in a series of short, hopping sparks. Smoke that smelled of brimstone and flowers rose from the armour joints of the Stormcasts.
The fire drew closer until it was thirty yards from the Judicators. Eldroc held up his hand to shield his eyes. Behind the fire he discerned dark shapes. Silhouettes wavered in the flame, warriors joined into one long, spiked profile. They were as tall as his own Stormcast Eternals, decked in heavy plate armour, helms crowned with horns and strange crests. Cavalry rode in the centre upon massive horses. Infantry were to the flanks, carrying huge, cruel-bladed axes. There was something else, a large shape that hovered behind and above the warriors of Chaos, but the nature of that was obscured by the fire, which seemed to gather itself more thickly and fluidly there, protective of its secret.
‘Sound the horns! Order the cliff guard down to the gate!’ shouted Eldroc.
Silver horns blared, the purity of their notes dispelling some of the odd sensation projected by the fire.
The firewall dissipated, revealing the Chaos host behind: at least two hundred of them, armoured in blue and yellow, bright steel and bronze, vile decorations upon their plate. The Chaos warriors and Stormcasts were opposite sides of the same coin, both kinds energised by divine will, but whereas the Stormcasts had had their souls uplifted by Sigmar, here were men who had sacrificed theirs for power.
The ranks of Liberators fluidly parted, allowing the Judicators to retreat and take refuge behind them. They locked shields again at the exact moment the warriors of Tzeentch roared and charged.
The flanks came in first, smashing into the outer limbs of the Bladestorms’ own formation. At that moment, Eldroc lost sight of Thostos, and his view of the battle drew in.
The crash of the meeting lines was deafening, a sound out of the ages of myth when the gods themselves clashed weapon on weapon. The Stormcasts raised their shields, taking blows that would have cut an ogor in half. Hammers descended in reply, battering Chaos armour to shards and pulverising the flesh beneath. Both sides exhorted their divine masters to bring them victory. Prayers to the Lord of Change were matched by Sigmarite hymns of war, and the very air boiled where they met in contest.
