[Warhammer] - Guardians of the Forest

by Graham McNeill

  “Where are we?” asked Leofric.

  “We can talk later,” warned Cairbre. “Cu-Sith leads the way and we cannot linger here.”

  Leofric nodded and followed the Hound of Winter as he and Kyarno set off after the wardancer. His senses rebelled against the enchantments of this place and though Cu-Sith’s words had angered Leofric, he knew that the wardancer was right: humans were not meant to see such things.

  Their course followed the ribbon of silver light as it wound a path through the dark forest. Blurred shapes shadowed their every movement and Leofric kept his gaze fixed on a point between Kyarno’s shoulder blades for fear of the terrible things he might see if he allowed himself to look anywhere else. Whispered voices drifted to him, taunts and promises of wealth, flesh and peace, but he forced them from his head as he concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other.

  He heard a cry of pain, a woman’s, and his ingrained chivalric code turned his head before his body’s warning could prevent him.

  Leofric cried out as the mists parted and he saw Helene on her knees, wearing the same red dress she had worn the day the forest had taken her. She wept and pleaded with cackling creatures of branch and root, their whipping, thorny limbs and bark-formed faces mocking her helplessness. Was this where Helene had been taken? Had she been brought to this damnable otherworld to be tormented by these maniacal spirits for all eternity?

  His hatred of these beasts knew no bounds and he drew his sword, the blade shining with silver fire, running towards her and shouting, “Helene!”

  No sooner had his feet left the silver pathway than the scene before him dissolved into a whirling blur of light and mist, and he heard a host of wickedly gleeful laughs surround him. Sinuous shadows flitted towards him from the darkness between the claw-branched trees and Leofric’s heart chilled to see such primal, elemental spirits of the forest as they slipped through the air like liquid.

  But he was a knight of Bretonnia and his courage was greater than his fear of these things. Leofric brought his sword to bear, its silver blade a shining beacon in the darkness as the shadows circled him like sharks with the taste of blood.

  He backed away, casting darting glances around him as he sought the silver path once more, but all was darkness and shadow, the path lost to him.

  “Lady protect me,” he whispered as a dark shadow darted towards him. He swung his sword, the blade passing clean through it without effect. Black, clawed arms slashed for him and slid through his armour without effort, reaching into his flesh with the chill of the grave.

  Leofric cried out as the deathly touch of the spirit creature filled him with pain. He dropped to his knees as aching cold spread agonisingly through his body. His heart beat wildly in his chest as he fought the glacial chill. More of the shadow creatures slipped from the trees, their eyes pinpricks of yellow against the dark of their ghostly forms, and Leofric knew he was undone.

  Then a howling shape spun through the air and a painted figure with twin swords of golden light landed before him.

  Cu-Sith spun his swords before him in a dazzling circle and said, “You cannot have him. This human belongs to Cu-Sith.”

  The shadow beasts circled the wardancer, wary of his bright swords and hissed in anger at his interruption of their hunt.

  “Human,” shouted Cu-Sith. “Get up! Fight their touch!”

  Leofric gritted his teeth, biting the inside of his cheek hard enough to draw blood, the warm liquid and pain forcing the chill of the shadow’s touch from his flesh. As the dark touch left him, his strength returned and he stood beside the wardancer, silver and gold blades keeping the spirits at bay for the moment.

  “Follow Cu-Sith,” said the wardancer. “Walk where he walks.”

  Leofric nodded as he once again saw Helene beyond the shadows, naked and bloody as the branch-creatures whipped the flesh from her bones.

  “It is not real, human,” warned Cu-Sith. “Whoever she is, she is not real.”

  Leofric forced himself to look away, following the careful steps of the wardancer as they backed away from the dark fey of the forest. Sadness welled in his heart at the sight of Helene’s tortured body, but he held to Cu-Sith’s assertion that it was but an illusion.

  Then there was silver light beneath his feet once more and the hissing curses that had followed them faded to a faint susurration.

  “Foolish human!” snapped the wardancer. “Did you hear nothing of Cu-Sith’s warning? Cu-Sith told you to stay on the path.”

  “I saw Helene!” shouted Leofric. “I saw my wife.”

  “Your wife is dead,” said Cu-Sith. “That was not her. Now come, there is a long way to go yet.”

  Leofric fought past the grief at having seen Helene so close once more and nodded, looking down at his shining sword.

  “Why does my sword glow?” asked Leofric.

  “The weapon is touched by magic,” said Cu-Sith. “It fades, but there is still some power left to it.”

  “Yes,” said Leofric proudly. “It was blessed by the Lady of the Lake herself.”

  Cu-Sith winked and turned away, but before Leofric could ask more, he saw the Hound of Winter emerge from the mist bearing a weeping Kyarno back onto the path.

  Like Leofric’s sword, the Blades of Midnight shone with a nimbus of light.

  “I saw them,” cried Kyarno. “My mother! My father! We have to go back.”

  Cairbre dropped his nephew to the path and Leofric saw that the Hound of Winter’s body was cut and bruised. He took a great breath as Cu-Sith shook his head and met Cairbre’s gaze.

  “Foolish youths,” said the wardancer and Cairbre nodded in agreement.

  Kyarno blinked and let out a shuddering breath as the power of the dark fey faded from his mind. Leofric helped him up and the four warriors set off once again down the silver path.

  Dreams and nightmares assailed them from every turn, scenes of horror and bliss paraded before them in equal measure. But their hearts were hardened to the glamours of the dark fey and though each blandishment was more outlandish or horrific than the one before, nothing could now tempt them from the path.

  “We are here,” said Cu-Sith at last, and Leofric looked up to see a shining, mist-wreathed gateway hovering before them. Through it he could see craggy mountain-tops and a pale sky of clear blue. Nothing had ever looked so welcoming and they hurried towards the gateway, stepping through with none of the reticence they had felt when entering this dark domain of the spirit.

  Leofric’s heart sang to be back in the real world, the rocks and trees and earth having a reassuring, familiar solidity to them that he had not realised was so necessary an anchor for the human soul. Stepping through the shimmering gateway, he had stepped onto bare rock high in the mountains, the air wondrously clear and refreshing.

  He stood on the edge of the mountain, drawing great lungfuls of crisp air into his body and tilting his face towards the sun as it warmed his flesh. After the journey through the secret paths of the forest, to feel the sun on his skin was the most incredible sensation Leofric could remember.

  “By the Lady, I never want to have to do that again,” he said.

  “Nor I,” agreed Cairbre, shuddering at the memory of whatever visions had come to him within the spirit realm.

  To have travelled so far in so short a time amazed Leofric. Such a journey would normally have taken well over a week, but, by the position of the sun, they had reached the mountains in a matter of hours.

  Jagged crags of grey stone reared above them, cloaked in shawls of white and patches of fragrant pine, the highest peaks of the Grey Mountains lost in the clouds. Below them, the forest stretched out across the landscape, a massive swathe of green and red and gold and brown.

  He could not see all the forest, wisps of cloud far below them conspiring to conceal some areas and shimmering heat hazes rippling the image of the far distant treetops. The sight of the forest laid out like this was truly magnificent and Leofric took a moment to drink in its sav
age beauty.

  “What is that?” he asked, pointing to a cluster of distant golden spires that rose above the forest canopy.

  “It is the Waterfall Palace of the Naiad Court,” replied Cairbre. “It is a place of wonders and raptures.”

  “Who lives there?”

  “The naiads, beautiful nymphs of lakes, rivers, springs and fountains. They make their court amid a torrent of a hundred waterfalls. I have visited their court once before and it was… most pleasurable.”

  Leofric raised an eyebrow, surprised at Cairbre — if he understood the Hound of Winter correctly. He was spared asking more by the arrival of Kyarno and Cu-Sith, who beckoned them over to the sheer cliff face behind them.

  A thin, snaking crack split the cliff, barely wide enough for an elf, let alone a human in armour, and Kyarno nodded, saying, “This is it, this is the way.”

  “You are sure?” asked Cairbre, doubtfully.

  “Yes, uncle, I’m sure,” said Kyarno. “Remember I have been here before.”

  Cairbre shrugged and followed Kyarno as he disappeared into the mountain. Cu-Sith indicated that Leofric should go next and he squeezed himself into the fissure with some difficulty as the wardancer slipped effortlessly between the rocks behind him.

  After a while, the crack widened a little. Not by much, but enough so that every step was not an effort. Nor was it a simple path, branching off many times into a maze of thin cracks in the rock and low passages. Each path divided over and over again, and Leofric wondered how they were going to navigate their way back.

  Their course carried them deep into the mountain, sheer rock rising on all sides and thickly growing pines fringing the top of the chasm. Oft times their route carried them along narrow paths with drops of thousands of feet to one side or over narrow bridges of rock that crossed yawning rents in the earth. A pungent, animal aroma permeated the chasms and the further they went, the easier became their passing as the chasm finally widened into a tall, steep sided valley.

  Tall trees dotted the valley, the vertical sides of the chasm rearing hundreds of feet above them. A craggy cave entrance opened into the mountain on one side of the chasm, the ground before it strewn with boulders and the white gleam of bone.

  “What manner of creature would live in such a remote place?” asked Leofric, seeing human skulls amongst the piles of bone. “The only way you could get in without difficulty is…”

  Leofric’s words trailed off as a great shadow enveloped their group and a powerful downdraught of air threw up clouds of blinding dust with a deafening boom. The odour Leofric had smelled in the chasms was much stronger now. He shielded his eyes from the dust and heard something take a powerful intake of breath that echoed from the rocks.

  He squinted through the slowly settling dust and saw a great form silhouetted against the sky, a massive, sinuous body with a long, muscular neck and a pair of slowly folding wings.

  Leofric blinked away the last of the dust and gasped at the monstrous creature that perched on the rocks above them.

  A dragon.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  A dragon. It was a dragon. Leofric was looking at a dragon. It took several seconds for the reality of the sight to sink in, but when it did, his hand instinctively reached for his sword. As his hand grasped the hilt, Cairbre gripped his arm and shook his head.

  A dragon… creatures of terrible aspect and fearsome reputation, it was the stuff of every knight’s dream to slay a dragon. Of such things were the legends and tales of Bretonnia built.

  The mighty creature regarded them quizzically, its huge, horned head leaning down into the chasm glade and its huge jaws opening to reveal row upon row of saw-like fangs. Its breath reeked of noxious gases, the blades of its teeth longer than Leofric’s forearm.

  It climbed head first down the vertical sides of the glade, its great claws gripping the rock as it descended to the dusty valley floor, its scaled green body rippling with massive slabs of muscle. Its huge, leathery wings were folded across its spined back, frills of tissue stretched between the sharp spines.

  “A dragon…” breathed Leofric, straining to draw his sword despite Cairbre’s restraining hand. “It’s a dragon.”

  “I know,” hissed Cairbre. “This is Beithir-Seun. This is who we have come to see.”

  Leofric looked incredulously at the Hound of Winter. This terrifying beast was who they had risked travelling through the realm of the dark fey to find?

  “Are you insane? It is a monster. It has to die!”

  “Be silent!” warned Cairbre. “Beithir-Seun is an ancient denizen for the forest and we are here for his help. Do not anger him.”

  Leofric looked across to Kyarno and Cu-Sith to see if they were as deluded as the Hound of Winter in believing that this creature was anything other than a monster to be destroyed.

  He saw tension on their features, even those of Cu-Sith, but nothing to show that they shared his intent. Slowly he released his grip on his sword hilt and though his knightly traditions screamed at him to charge the beast, he forced himself to wait.

  The dragon approached them, towering above them as it reared up on its hind legs and let out a terrible roar that shook rocks from the sides of the glade. Leofric flinched, but followed the example of the elves and remained motionless. The creature sniffed the air, its jaws drawing open again to reveal its razor-sharp fangs, and lowered its head towards them. One of the dragon’s eyes was a mass of poorly-healed scar tissue, the other a fierce yellow and slitted like a cat’s. Leofric saw an ancient intelligence within that eye and knew that this was a creature not to be trifled with.

  “I smell human,” snarled the dragon, its rumbling voice deep and laden with authority.

  Leofric fought to control his mounting panic in the face of the dragon’s pronouncement. The great wyrm’s eyes narrowed and it cocked its vast head to one side, its breath sounding like the bellows of some mighty, piston-driven engine of the dwarfs.

  “Beithir-Seun,” began Cairbre. “We come as emissaries from—”

  “I smell human,” repeated the dragon, thrusting its jaws towards Leofric. Its head was the size of a coach and though its enormous fangs were inches from his body, he held himself immobile before the monster’s scrutiny.

  “I know your kind,” said the dragon. “Humans in armour slay my land. Brave heroes out to make a name for themselves. Is that it, human, have you come to slay me?”

  Leofric said nothing until nudged in the ribs by Kyarno, who gestured urgently that he should reply.

  “Uh… no,” said Leofric. “No. We… that is… no.”

  “It is as well for you,” rumbled the dragon, “for you would die if you tried. Beithir-Seun has eaten humans in armour before and one more would be of no consequence. The bones of a hundred men lie strewn before my cave. Yours may join them yet.”

  The dragon drew back its head and Leofric let out the breath he had been holding. The creature scraped deep furrows in the rock with its claws and said, “I smell elf as well as human. It has been long centuries since Beithir-Seun awoke and yet longer since he tasted warm flesh bitten from the bone.”

  Its long tongue slid from its jaws and Leofric had a terrifying mental image of their bodies sliding down its throat to be digested in its stomach.

  “Blood and meat,” hissed the dragon, taking a long step towards them. “Yes… blood and meat and bone.”

  “Beithir-Seun,” said Cairbre again. “We come to you for help.”

  “Help?” roared Beithir-Seun. “What help can elves want from me?”

  “We come with tidings from Aldaeld, Lord of a Hundred Battles and guardian of Coeth-Mara. He sends you greetings from the Asrai and bids you take heed of our words.”

  “Beithir-Seun knows of Coeth-Mara,” nodded the dragon. “A grove of saplings in the south of the forest.”

  “It has grown since last you awoke, Beithir-Seun. Now it is a mighty hall of the Asrai and its beauty is beloved by all the forest kin.”

  �
��Now I see why you bring armoured humans to my glade,” said the dragon, its mouth splitting in a grin of monstrous appetite. “It is an offering to me to secure my aid. One of the armoured humans that put out my eye with a lance brought to me for a meal of flesh and bone.”

  “No,” said Leofric. “I am a friend to the Asrai. I have fought alongside the warriors of Coeth-Mara and do so again to save both our peoples.”

  “A human fights with the Asrai?” asked Beithir-Seun.

  “He does,” said Kyarno. “He is a warrior of courage and has slain creatures of Chaos.”

  “Mention not that word,” spat the dragon. “For Beithir-Seun has feasted upon the flesh of the unclean and still I taste their rankness. If this human be not an offering to me, then what do you bring?”

  “We bring only the chance to once again defend Athel Loren,” said Cairbre. “For Cyanathair has returned to the forest.”

  Beithir-Seun let out a terrible, echoing roar at the mention of the Corruptor, its bellow full of anger and loathing.

  “Cyanathair walks the earth once more?”

  “It does,” said Cairbre. “Its minions have managed to topple one of the sacred waystones and we need your help to retrieve it, for we cannot bear it back to Athel Loren without your mighty strength.”

  “Flatter me not, elf,” cautioned the dragon. “Centuries have I slumbered in this deep mountain and many are the creatures of evil I have destroyed.”

  Beithir-Seun shook its horned head and said, “A human fights alongside the Asrai and the Corruptor walks the earth. Truly it is well that the forest wakes me that I might see such strange times.”

  “Then you will aid us?”

  The dragon nodded and bared its fangs. “Yes, I will aid you, for I see that your cause is that of Athel Loren. Too long is it since Beithir-Seun slaughtered the children of Chaos.”

  Leofric watched as the great dragon spread its wings, the enormous pinions almost scraping the sides of the valley as it reared up to its full height.