by Warhammer
The same was true of his mother, though for her the flame was shorter and brighter, near-white in intensity. Hers was a different betrayal, one that he had expected. After accepting the blessing of the Pyre Threx had ordered her to leave, unable to bear the sight of Soreas. It was impossible to know if she had been driven by a true calling to Sigmar or had been undermining the Ashen King for her own purposes for decades. It did not matter, her sentence had been exile – a clemency granted her only on the grounds of her relationship to Threx. Others of the Ashen King’s family had fled with her, including most of Threx’s cousins.
So he paced, and the fired burned, and on occasion one of his companions or advisors would interrupt his agitated pondering.
It was disappointing.
Threx wanted to do something. Like the Pyre, he burned with an inner flame that needed release. The spirit of the Asha Vale yearned to be let free, to expand beyond its physical borders.
He had been certain that as Ashen King his word was law. His authority was without equal within the Skullbrands. Yet it seemed that the world did not want him to rule. When his subjects asked him what he wanted to do, he could not articulate the need that burned inside.
‘I want to restore the honour of the Skullbrands,’ he declared. Suggestions for how this might be done were not forthcoming.
‘We should be feared as we were in the times before,’ Threx announced. All present agreed with him. Nothing happened. Still he paced his hall, caged and impotent.
This day, the sixth since he had taken his father’s ashes upon his skin, Threx would not be mollified. It was Nerxes and Atraxas that called upon him first. Knowing that he was restless overnight they called soon after dawn, coming to the hall as the first gleam of the sun touched the lowest sky-openings to the left of the throne.
Their approach was announced by the door guards. Threx strode back to the throne, quickly but trying not to appear unseemly. He sat down, fingers tapping on the arms of the throne, trying to affect a pose of patient expectation.
His uncle and closest friend arrived with quick bows and crossed the hall to stand before their king.
‘We have bad news, Ashen King,’ said Atraxas.
Threx held up a hand to silence him.
‘It must wait. I have a pronouncement to make. A royal command.’
‘Yes?’ Atraxas shared a quick glance with Nerxes.
‘Our restoration of the tribe will begin today. We stood idle while our rivals overtook us and our allies abandoned us. My father’s lies made him weak, but I am truly chosen of the Pyre. The Skullbrands stand in favour with the Asha Vale again. The army will muster and we will strike out, bringing bloody vengeance to those that have so recently wronged us.’
‘Have you any foe in mind?’ asked Nerxes. This earned him a scowl from Atraxas.
‘We all support your desire to make right the wrongs done to us,’ the head of the Hall Guard said, though his tone was not as positive as Threx would have liked.
‘Good. I leave the choice to you, cousin,’ said Threx, looking at Nerxes. ‘You are my strategist. Will it go better if we attack the Fireborn first, or finish what I began at Wendhome?’
Nerxes pondered this and was about to reply when a growl from Atraxas stopped him.
‘Our news, Ashen King, might change your thinking,’ said Nerxes. He hesitated.
‘Do not fear to tell me the truth, cousin,’ said Threx. ‘I don’t hold you accountable for bringing me bad tidings.’
Nerxes relaxed a little and took a step closer.
‘Yourag has given your mother sanctuary.’ Nerxes stopped, awaiting his king’s reaction.
‘Then the decision is all the easier,’ Threx replied. ‘I don’t understand your timidity, cousin. We will march for Wendhome, raze the settlement and enslave its people. I will take my mother’s head, and it shall be branded as in the times before, the first of my new trophies.’
Threx’s declaration shocked even himself and several of those that listened gasped at his vehemence. Even so, he would not recant his words now that they had been shared.
‘If I am willing to do this to my kin, it will send a message to everyone that my wrath is not to be tested,’ the Ashen King continued, though it was simply adding justification to an impulsive thought.
‘She has called you an abomination against Sigmar,’ said Atraxas. ‘All of the Skullbrands are to be deemed unholy if we do not cast you out.’
Threx’s gaze moved from his uncle to his cousin and back again.
‘She wants to turn you against me? You would not listen to these lies, I hope.’
‘No, but others have, and more will.’ Nerxes brought forth a scrap of parchment that had been tucked into his belt. ‘One of our scouts took this from a Fireborn messenger. The herald tried to burn it, but our warrior was quick. It is a reply to Yourag, agreeing a truce.’
‘Alliance, Threx, against us,’ said Atraxas.
Threx’s stare was unblinking, fixed upon his uncle until Atraxas realised his error.
‘An alliance, Ashen King, against you,’ he clarified.
Threx was compelled to stand, pushing past his cousin so that he could approach the Pyre. It reacted to his mood with a flurry of copper flames, their heat dancing across his ash-coated skin.
‘Together they’re still no match for the Skullbrands – they’re just trying to intimidate me.’ He turned his head to look at Atraxas. ‘You’re not intimidated, are you?’
‘It’s not just the Fireborn and Korchians, Ashen King,’ Nerxes said quietly, hands clasped in front of him. ‘Though we haven’t caught them, we’ve seen messengers heading in every direction from Wendhome and the Fireborn Caves.’
‘It’s spreading, like a plague against us,’ snarled Atraxas. ‘A dozen and more already, I’d guess.’
‘Cowardly scum!’ roared Threx. The Pyre exploded upwards, black flames licking at the ceiling, dark sparks falling like snow around him. ‘Not one of them would face us alone.’
‘A pack of sand dogs can tear down a bear,’ said Nerxes.
‘My mother… It’s she that’s stirred up all of this hatred for us. That and the fear that we’ve reconnected with our ancestral power.’ He stretched out a hand and a frond of flame bent towards his palm, a flexing arc of black fire that danced as he moved his hand from side to side. ‘They will find the Asha Vale unwelcoming to their warriors.’
‘We can fight, and we’ll kill plenty, that’s for sure.’ Again, Atraxas’ words did not match his demeanour.
‘But we’ll not win?’ said Threx. The flames died down, becoming a ripple of orange across the bones and ashes of the honoured dead. ‘Is that what you think?’
‘At best we’ll muster three thousand blades,’ said Nerxes, pulling nervously at his bottom lip. ‘What will they bring? Ten thousand?’
‘Thirty thousand, even forty thousand seems more likely,’ said Atraxas. ‘Two messengers were followed heading towards the Sunrise Plains.’
‘The Direbrands?’ Nerxes’ fidgeting increased.
‘Why would the Direbrands care about us?’ said Threx. ‘It’s been generations since our lands and theirs were near to each other.’
‘There are none more staunchly dedicated to Sigmar,’ said Nerxes. ‘Soreas has stirred up something more than tribal rivalry.’
‘Hammers stuck right up their…’ Atraxas tailed off, disturbed by something. ‘What if this is even worse than we thought? If the Direbrands move against us, what about tribes even further away? The Aridians? Maybe even Bataar, or Aspirian?’
‘Now you’re being a scared child,’ said Threx. ‘Even I don’t think the Skullbrands are so mighty that they would catch the eye of the Bataari.’
‘I suppose you’re right,’ Atraxas conceded. His expression did not lighten.
‘But…?’
‘We have enough problems already. We cannot hope to fight all of these tribes together.’
‘Then we attack first, send a message,’ said Thre
x. He closed his hand into a fist and the Pyre flames swayed, dimming and then brightening. ‘Mother nor not, I’ll have Soreas’ bones on the Pyre for what she’s done.’
‘A risky proposition,’ said Nerxes. ‘Look what happened when we took some of the army to Wendhome. And Yourag is probably expecting retaliation.’
‘We’ll skin them alive, brand their skulls and hang their hides on the walls as a warning to the others!’ Threx stalked around the Pyre, only half hearing what the others said. ‘Nobody will dare fight us knowing the price.’
‘I think that would stir even more sentiment against us,’ warned Nerxes.
‘Sentiment?’ Threx stopped and turned to look at his cousin, his breath coming in short, excited gasps. ‘Sentiment? We don’t care about sentiment! We’ll feed the Asha Vale with their blood and burn their homes to the ground.’
He strode back to Nerxes and his uncle, and grabbed each by an arm, turning them towards the Pyre.
‘Look into the flames! What do you see?’
‘Nothing…’ said Nerxes.
Atraxas grunted and shook his head.
‘Look! Closer!’ Threx dragged them forward until they flinched from the heat.
‘I don’t see…’ Nerxes stopped, eyes streaming, widening in shock. ‘I see banners held high, a land awash with war.’
‘I see it too,’ said Atraxas. He turned an astonished gaze on Threx. ‘Your banner, Ashen King.’
‘Let them come. They will all burn.’
‘Where will you go?’ asked Eruil as Athol knelt down in front of his son. ‘To find allies, I mean?’
‘I don’t know yet,’ he replied. ‘But it will take some time. You’ll be staying with the queen while I’m away.’
‘I told you, spare us no worries,’ said Marolin.
She tossed one of the sled ropes to Eruil, who held it loosely over his arm. The shelter and their belongings were packed neatly upon the back of the three-runnered sled; though they would be sleeping in the Queen’s Pavilion Marolin wanted a place that was still hers. Athol would travel lightly, and so the shelter went with his wife.
‘Stay healthy,’ he told them, giving each a kiss on the cheek. He held Marolin’s hand for a little longer, until she drew it away.
‘Find us allies to fight these Tithemaster dogs,’ said his wife. She looked him in the eye. ‘Don’t come back until you do.’
He nodded and crossed his arms. They took up the strain on the ropes, and he gave the sled a shove with his foot to help them get going. A few dozen paces away, Eruil turned his head and lifted an arm to wave. Athol returned the gesture with a fist raised in salute.
And that was it. They were gone.
His hand moved to his belt, where Marolin’s half-sword still hung. It was the only thing he had left of her, outside his thoughts.
He turned back to the encampment but did not approach. Serleon’s house-wagon rumbled between the shelters, coming closer. Athol waited until the Aquitan drew alongside and applied the brake to the wheels.
‘Ride?’ said the armoured warrior.
‘No,’ said Athol. ‘I’m not heading your way.’
Serleon shrugged and leaned over to offer his hand. Athol pulled himself up onto the step of the driving board and took the grip.
‘I send word if learn anything,’ Serleon promised, keeping his grasp as Athol tried to pull his hand back. ‘If have no army, you run. Run, Athol.’
‘I’ll have an army,’ he replied, squeezing hard. ‘My people crossed between worlds to make a life here. We’re not going to let the Tithemasters take it from us without a fight.’
‘Be careful. Something strange. Air wrong.’
‘Just the seasonal winds,’ Athol grinned, though he knew the Aquitan was not being literal. There was definitely a change coming upon the world. The belligerence of the Tithemasters, the mood of his people, even Orhatka’s actions, all spoke of a growing, unsettling force at work.
He dropped down to the ground and the wagon-house trundled away.
As Athol watched it turn towards distant Bataar, his mind returned to the dream that had come to him again the previous night. Of a mountain topped with flame. He had told the elders he was seeking allies, but he was in truth looking for a greater strength. To fight the Tithemasters he would have to find and climb that mountain.
He had no idea where to start looking, so let instinct and fate take their course. Without thought, he turned to his right, looking towards the hazy peaks in the far distance, their foothills beyond the horizon, the lands from which the river flowed.
He took one pace, and then another, and spared not one glance back.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
‘I didn’t expect them all,’ said Threx, looking out from the high wall of Ashabarq.
‘Ten thousand, at least,’ Atraxas told him.
‘More on the other side of the Bloodwater,’ said Vourza. She leaned against the outer wall, arms crossed. ‘The scouts say a force of Direbrands are less than half a day distant.
‘How many tribes?’ asked Foraza. His knuckles were white where he held the pole of Threx’s banner so tight. Threx had never seen him looking so worried. Nor Nerxes, who was a little way along the wooden rampart, a leather-tubed eye lens held up as he scanned the trees and hillside. His cousin’s fingertips tapped nervously on the stiff hide.
‘Banners of four tribes, the Korchians at the centre.’ He lowered the glass and glanced at Threx. ‘I think I can see Soreas.’
‘Show me.’ Threx strode along the wall and snatched the looking tube from Nerxes. He squinted as he lifted it to his eye, panning along the darker green of the distant forests. The image was upside down, the constant blue of the sky at the bottom, broken by tatters of ruddy morning clouds, the smudge of arboreal colour at the top.
‘Left a little, and down.’
‘By that rocky…’ Threx inhaled sharply as the sight of his mother danced in the wavering circle. His hand trembled and he fought the urge to hurl the device away. He recognised the flash of gold that was Yourag and his giant bodyguards, but there were at least a dozen others gathered about Soreas, in a broad array of garb. Two leaned on hammer-topped staves; another had a warhammer in hand, its head shaped like the twin-tailed icon of Sigmar. He snarled at the sight. ‘Hammer-tongues. Twelve of them, maybe more.’
‘And their tribes not far away, I should think,’ said Atraxas. His expression was grim and he took in a deep breath before he continued. ‘We cannot win this battle, Ashen King.’
‘I am the spirit of the Asha Vale, I will not surrender,’ Threx replied, handing the seeing lens back to Nerxes. ‘We will die fighting, if we have to.’
‘Too late to run,’ said Vourza.
‘We’re not cowards,’ growled Threx.
‘There’s another way,’ Nerxes said quietly, his tone uncertain. ‘Perhaps.’
‘What’s this?’ demanded Atraxas, pushing past Foraza to confront Nerxes. ‘You said nothing earlier.’
‘I didn’t want to get anyone’s hopes up.’
‘You’ve got a plan?’ Threx grinned. ‘A Bataari strategy, I bet, that will see these dogs sent whining back to their camps.’
‘Not Bataari, and not a strategy,’ said Nerxes. ‘One of the oldest traditions of the Flamescar. We have half a dozen chieftains here. Send me out to parley with them.’
‘And what would you offer for them to go away?’ Vourza asked, eyes narrowed. ‘They’ve come for the Ashen King, I don’t think they’ll settle for words.’
‘Just six words, actually,’ said Nerxes, a brief smile dancing across his lips. ‘Six words that will buy us some time. If the other tribes agree to it, that is. They might try to ignore you.’
‘What six words?’ said Threx.
‘King Threx calls the Red Feast.’
Nerxes declaration was met with silence, which was broken several heartbeats later by Atraxas’ deep laugh.
‘You cunning fox, Nerxes,’ said the commander of the Hall Guards. �
��That’s brilliant.’
‘A Red Feast?’ Threx considered the idea. ‘If they accept, the tribes must call a truce until the Red Feast is concluded.’
‘And you can challenge Yourag!’ said Foraza. ‘Kill him this time.’
The idea brought a grin to Threx’s face.
‘They might reject your authority to call for a Red Feast,’ Nerxes said.
‘I’ll see each of their coward-dog chieftains kneel before me, one after the other,’ Threx said, flexing his fingers. He felt the flame of the Pyre burning within his breast, carrying the spirit of the Asha Vale within him. He laid a hand on Nerxes’ shoulder. ‘Don’t let the Sigmar-tongues argue against it.’
‘If they try, I will accuse them of being puppets of the Aspirians. The other chieftains will want to prove they’re honourable, and strong.’
A roll of martial drums thundered from the far hillside as another tribe advanced into view over the crest, the black-and-green banners of the Tindred flying above.
‘Foraza, go with him,’ Threx said. ‘You carry my banner, Nerxes will carry my word.’
Threx leaned on the wooden palisade top and watched the figures of Nerxes and Foraza dwindle with distance. His eyes moved to the tribal armies still gathering on the hill.
It was an impressive sight and, though it was arrayed against him, Threx took some pleasure in seeing such an assembly. The vision from the flame drifted into his thoughts, the sight of a host that was an ocean compared to the droplet converging on the Asha Vale.
Warriors from across the region had been brought together by Soreas’ accusations. Some he recognised. The white oval shields of the Zazuli in long lines to his left. They were adept beastmasters and had brought several trained bears, vargryphs and plains tigers on gilded chains. Alongside them were the Darkbone tribe. Threx remembered tales of how they had once charred their captured foes over great bonfires and consumed the roasted flesh in midnight feasts.