by Warhammer
Looking around he could see that there was a picnic hamper and wine. The fat merchant held a silver goblet in his hand. Felix shook his head. These people seemed determined to treat the arrival of their foe as if it were some sort of entertainment. Felix was not sure whether it was bravado or pure mule-headed stupidity.
‘By Ulric, look at that,’ he heard one fat man mutter. The man had a spyglass jammed to one eye. He did not sound as if he were being entertained. Glancing out over the rooftops Felix could see the cause of the man’s disquiet.
The Chaos horde covered the plains beyond Praag for as far as the eye could see. It was an inexorable black tide of steel and flesh flowing in to drown the world. In the lead were the riders, massive men mounted on monstrous black or red fleshed chargers. Those riders belonged in the haunted lands of the Chaos Wastes; it was a nightmare to see them here on the grasslands of Kislev. From the sea of armoured figures rose hundreds of rune-covered banners, cloth ensigns whipping in the breeze. Behind the riders were more heavily armoured infantry. And behind those were countless hideously mutated beastmen, foul creatures that walked upright like men but whose heads were horned, and who had the muzzles of animals. Scattered throughout the vast host were tens of thousands of barbarically clad men, feared marauders from the northern Wastes. He doubted that if every soldier in the Empire was mustered they could match the numbers of beastmen out there. Huge clouds of dust rose up where they marched, obscuring the more distant figures. Somehow Felix knew that if he could see them, the monsters would stretch to the horizon.
‘Could be worse,’ Ulrika said. All the wealthy folk on the tower top turned to look at her. Some shook their heads in disbelief.
‘And what would you know about it, my dear?’ said the fat merchant patronisingly. He sounded like he was suggesting that she should go home and play with her dolls. Gotrek grunted ominously. The guards shifted their attention to him, looking worried.
‘Far more than you, sir,’ replied Ulrika with bare civility. The merchant’s heavy-set bodyguards gave her a warning glance. Ulrika merely smiled coldly at them, and her hand toyed with the pommel of her sword. Neither of the two big men looked worried, which was not too bright. Felix had seen Ulrika fight with that blade and would have backed her against most men. ‘I am the daughter of Ivan Petrovich Straghov.’
‘The march boyar,’ said the fat man with more respect. His bodyguards relaxed a little, like attack dogs whose master has given them a sign not to attack just yet. ‘Perhaps you would care to explain what you mean. I am sure everyone here would give ear to a discourse from the daughter of the man who has guarded our frontier with the Chaos Wastes for the past twenty years.’
‘There are no daemons,’ she said, ‘No flamers. None of the more exotic monsters that sometimes come down from the Wastes to ravage and burn.’
‘Why is that?’ the merchant asked.
‘I don’t know,’ Ulrika said.
‘Perhaps I can explain,’ said a familiar voice. Felix turned to see that Max Schreiber had made his way to the roof. Was he following them, Felix wondered? It was fairly obvious that Max was enamoured of Ulrika, which was not good. Felix liked the man well enough but he was a little annoyed by his persistence in seeking Ulrika’s affections. Felix felt that soon he might have to say something. He wasn’t looking forward to the prospect. Having a wizard for an enemy was rarely a good thing, as Felix had found out to his cost in the past.
‘And who are you, sir?’
‘Max Schreiber, an Imperial wizard, formerly in the service of the Elector Count of Middenheim.’
If Max had announced that he was the chief baby eater at the court of the Lords of Chaos he could scarcely have got a colder response. Everyone glared at him suspiciously, as if he were in some way connected with the vast attacking army down below. Felix was torn between satisfaction at his rival’s discomfiture and sympathy for a man who had been his comrade on a dangerous quest. Max had obviously forgotten he was not in the Empire for a moment. Even there magicians were only tolerated, not popular. In Kislev, they still burned mages in the more isolated areas. If Max was embarrassed, he gave no sign of it. Felix supposed he was used to frosty receptions by now. The wizard kept speaking as if his audience were enthralled by his every word, which in a way, Felix supposed they were.
‘The winds of magic blow stronger and darker up by the Chaos Wastes. Many supernatural beings such as those of which Ulrika spoke need the presence of strong magic in order to manifest themselves for any length of time. The winds of magic, particularly those associated with Chaos, are much less strong this far south.’
‘So you are saying that we are safe from daemons at least,’ said the fat merchant. His words were almost a snarl.
‘No.’
‘Then what are you saying?’
‘I am saying the reason you can’t see them is because they have not been summoned yet. The winds of magic are strong enough here to support such beings only for a short time, say for the length of a battle. I have no doubt that there are Chaos sorcerers down there powerful enough to summon them.’
‘You seem very knowledgeable about these matters, young man,’ said one of the noblewomen, backing as far away from Max as possible.
‘Suspiciously so,’ said the fat merchant. Felix did not like the way the merchant’s men were staring at Max. It would not take much to drive these people to violence, he realised. And that would not do them much good either. If anything, Max was even more dangerous than Ulrika.
‘I have trained at the Imperial College of Magicians in Altdorf,’ said Max. ‘I am merely telling you what any competent magician can tell you about these things. If you are so suspicious of the art that you believe that I could be a follower of Chaos, then more fool you.’
Very good, Max, Felix thought. Very diplomatic. That will help solve everything won’t it? Felix wondered what had come over the magician. Did the presence of Ulrika really affect him so badly? Was he really so desperate to impress her? He seemed unable to think clearly when she was around. Normally he was a very mild mannered and diplomatic man. There were mutterings from the throng in the watchtower. Felix wondered if Max had any idea how close he was coming to provoking these people to violence. They were scared and afraid, and they were just looking for someone to vent their fear on.
And they had every right to be afraid, Felix realised. That army out there was enough to terrify any sane person witless. Felix had seen such forces before, when he had flown over the Chaos Wastes, but there was a huge difference between that, and knowing that he was in its path and that there was no escape. As he stood there, he felt a growing sense of claustrophobia. Until that very moment, the whole situation had seemed slightly unreal. In his mind, he had known what they faced, but emotionally it had not quite registered. Now, it was as if he felt the jaws of some great trap slamming shut round about him. Even as he watched, more and more Chaos warriors flowed into position around the city. Behind them came those endless ranks of beastmen.
He knew now he was trapped. There was no escape from Praag, unless the Spirit of Grungni returned, and even then it might not be possible to get away. There was no way out of Praag unless that mighty force down there was defeated, which meant, most likely, there was no way out of Praag alive. Judging from the spreading silence all around, he was not the only one to have come to this conclusion.
The fat merchant and his bodyguards stared at Max as if trying to decide what to do. They might want to burn him at the stake but he was a magician and none of them had any real idea of what he was capable of. He might be able to blast them to cinders with a wave of his hand or turn them into some sort of loathsome beast at a whim. Felix knew Max could do the former.
‘I ought to have you horsewhipped,’ said the fat merchant.
‘And how are you going to do that with your fat head separated from your shoulders?’ asked Gotrek. His tone was conversational but his expression was serious. Clearly he was no more pleased than Felix to have one
of his comrades threatened. The merchant’s guards looked distinctly queasy now.
‘Why are you taking this Chaos lover’s side?’ stuttered the fat man.
‘Are you suggesting that I would side with any follower of the Dark Powers?’ Gotrek asked. His tone was dangerous now. The expression on the face of the merchant showed he understood he was a heartbeat away from death. Felix kept his hand on the hilt of his sword. He did not doubt that if Gotrek decided to kill the man, he would, and that the bodyguards would not be able to stop him. After that carnage would erupt on the tower top. The bodyguards obviously understood this too. They had started to back away. The merchant shot them a look that suggested their employment had just been terminated. Gotrek’s growl got his attention.
‘Of course not. None of the elder race would ever do such a thing.’ Gotrek gave him a cold smile that revealed the blackened stumps of his teeth. The merchant looked as if he wanted to try and squeeze past the Slayer and hurry down the stair but couldn’t quite summon the courage to do so.
At that moment a blare of trumpets and a thunderous roll of drums attracted everybody’s attention. A rider emerged from the throng of Chaos warriors. He was a huge man on the largest steed Felix had ever seen. His armour was incredibly ornate and blazed with magical runes whose internal illumination hurt the eye to look upon. He seemed almost to shimmer, like a mirage seen in the desert, yet there was a solid deadliness about his presence that made him seem all too real. In one hand he held a massive lance upon which was a banner depicting a monstrous claw holding a glowing sphere. In the other hand he brandished a mighty runesword. A big war-axe hung from the pommel of his saddle. Fierce-looking as that malevolent steed was it gave its rider no trouble whatsoever. The rider stopped just out of bowshot and spread wide his arms and the whole vast horde behind him fell silent.
‘He’s going to tell us that if we surrender he will spare our lives,’ said the fat man. He tried to make it sound like a sneer but at that moment he sounded as if he would gratefully accept such an offer. Felix felt much the same way.
The huge Chaos warrior turned his attention to the people crowding the towers and battlements of Praag. Felix shivered as that burning gaze passed over him. For a second he felt as if the man, if that was what he was, had looked right at him, and stared directly into his soul. He tried telling himself that it was impossible, but he was not certain. Who knew what those creatures down there were truly capable of?
‘I am Arek Daemonclaw,’ said the Chaos warrior. By some magical trick his voice carried clearly over the distance separating him from the walls. It was a powerful voice, suggesting one used to instant obedience to his every command, and there was something in it that compelled belief. Not sincerity, just raw certainty. ‘I have come to kill you all.’
Such was the force of that voice that a woman near to Felix screamed and fainted. The fat merchant moaned. Felix felt his hand tense around the pommel of his sword.
‘I will build a pile of skulls higher than those walls you cower behind, and I will offer up your souls to the gods of Chaos. The Time of Changes is here. The false dominion of your petty kings is over. Now the true rulers of the world will stand revealed. Think on this and tremble.’
He glared around one last time. ‘Now, prepare to die!’
Arek Daemonclaw brought his sword forward. As one the mighty Chaos horde advanced. Beastmen swarmed forward in their thousands. Some carried ladders. The defenders on the wall watched as if paralysed. Felix wondered if the Chaos worshipper had cast some sort of spell.
Inexorable as the tide, the beastmen advanced. Felix gave up trying to estimate how many of them there were. He had never seen so many monstrosities gathered in one place before. There were creatures with the heads of goats and rams attached to the bodies of massively muscled men. There were towering bull-headed monsters armed with axes that made Gotrek’s look small. There were leering abominations from the darkest pits of hell. They howled, cursed and chanted in their foul tongue as they advanced. Their red eyes glittered with unquenchable malice. There were so many of them, and they came on with such insensate fury, that he wondered how they were ever going to be stopped. Even the mighty walls of Praag seemed like a flimsy barrier when confronted with so much hatred and power. Fear filled Felix. He glanced around and saw it written on every other face.
Before the attackers were half way to the walls the city’s defenders responded. Catapults hurled huge boulders out into the oncoming ranks, smashing the spawn of Chaos to bloody pulp. Mages sent fireballs arcing outwards to explode among the tightly packed bodies. Thousands of arrows darkened the sky. The beastmen roared defiance, trampling their fallen comrades under their hooves in their determination to get within the walls of Praag. They brandished their weapons and bellowed challenges at the defenders. Even as they died, they howled obscene prayers to their dark gods. Felix felt sure they were crying out for vengeance.
The twang of mighty catapult arms surging forward filled the air. More beastmen died. Their masters looked on. From the Chaos army came answering balls of fire, and great glowing snakes of monstrous energy. Felix flinched when he saw them, knowing that dark magic was at work. A few of the others in the watchtower groaned, as if expecting death to descend upon them at any moment.
The fireballs disintegrated in a shower of sparks mere inches from the walls. The streamers of energy unravelled. The lightning bolts arced into the stonework causing no damage. The stink of sulphur and ozone filled the air. ‘What happened?’ Felix asked. ‘Why didn’t their magic work?’
‘The defensive enchantments in the walls held firm,’ said Max. ‘They cannot be penetrated by such spells as those.’
‘Then we are safe from magic at least,’ Felix said. Max nodded slowly.
‘Perhaps. As long as we stay within the walls, and none of their magicians get inside, and as long as no truly great magical powers are brought to bear. The spell walls of Praag are very strong but they are not unbreachable. I doubt master wizards cast those spells. They would know they were wasting their strength. Most likely those enchantments were the work of novices showing off.’
‘You’re not reassuring me, Max.’
‘I’m sorry, but there is little about this situation that is reassuring.’
The horde came on, racing forward, brandishing their weapons. The Chaos warriors watched calmly. Seemingly they were taking no part in this assault. Max looked at them. ‘Why are their warlords not attacking? Why is no one supporting those beastmen? This inaction worries me.’
‘They are not attacking because they do not expect this assault to succeed,’ Gotrek said. ‘This is not an assault. It is merely a test.’
Looking at those thousands of charging monsters, Felix muttered, ‘Some test.’
‘We shall see,’ Gotrek said. ‘I know nothing of spell walls but the stone walls of Praag are also strong.’
‘For human work,’ he added almost as an afterthought.
The beastmen reached the great pit at the foot of the walls and halted for a moment. The mass of their comrades rushing behind them drove the leaders forward once more, so that they stumbled into the stake-lined pit at the foot of the walls. Roaring and screaming, they died, but still their comrades advanced, until the pit was so filled with squirming bodies that the remainder of the force could trample over them and reach the base of the wall.
What sort of madmen would throw away so many lives just to achieve a path to the walls, Felix wondered? And that only for a test. A glance back at the rows of Chaos warriors sitting impassively on horseback gave him his answer. The madmen they faced. Now more than ever, he was worried. Suddenly desperate for a closer look at their foe he snatched the spyglass from the merchant’s hand and focused it upon Arek Daemonclaw. If the merchant had any objections to this a glance from Gotrek was enough to quell them.
Felix shivered as the Chaos warlord leapt into view. He was a massive figure in incredibly ornate armour. His eyes glowed balefully within his full-fac
e helmet. Two massive horns curled from the lower part of the helmet, like the mandibles of some huge insect. The runes of Tzeentch, the Great Mutator, the Lord of Changes, blazed upon the warlord’s breastplate. His banner rippled in the wind. He was flanked on either side by two figures that grabbed Felix’s attention.
They were lean, vulture-like men, unarmoured and wrapped in huge cloaks whose folds gave them a resemblance to wings. Their skin was a pale corpse-like white. Odd runes were painted on their cheeks and foreheads that resembled those on the Chaos warrior’s armour. Their eyes glowed with a baleful red light. They were twins, identical in all ways except one. The one on the warlord’s right hand side held a golden staff in his right hand. The other twin bore a staff of ebony and silver in his left hand. The hand holding the gold-sheathed staff had long talon-like nails of gold. Silver encased the talons of the one on the left.
One glance at them was enough to tell Felix that these were sorcerers. They had an air of power about them that was indisputable. Even as Felix watched one of them leaned forward and whispered something into the ear of the warlord. The other smiled a sinister smile that revealed two prominent fang-like canine teeth.
Felix wondered what they were saying.
‘It goes badly,’ Kelmain Blackstaff said. ‘As we told you it would.’
Arek Daemonclaw glared out at his forces as they assaulted Praag, then he glared at the sorcerer. He was getting a little tired of his wizards’ admonitions. Had they not warned him against heading south so late in the summer? Had they not warned him against attacking Praag? Had they not advised him to join forces with the other great warlords instead of striking out on his own?