The Prosecutors placed their hands upon Vandus’ shoulders, gently restraining him. ‘No, my lord. You must not go to him.’
A crack of thunder, mightier than all the rest, split the sky. Ionus’ mortal form transmuted into a blazing spear of lightning that rushed upwards. Where it pierced the sky, black clouds wheeled and flickered with power.
Ionus Cryptborn departed the realm of Chamon. Vandus watched helplessly as his friend was taken home to Azyr. Then Calanax was there, growling at Vandus in rebuke. Vandus placed his palm flat on the beast’s hide in wordless apology for leaving him, and climbed onto his back.
Horns rang. There were two towers close by, one standing athwart the raised road Vandus was upon, and another situated further into the sea on the roadway parallel to him. Upon the second road Thostos and his Warrior Chamber had a group of Chaos warriors trapped. These were being pushed back, screaming as they fell from the edge. Vandus’ roadway was almost clear of the enemy and the army was retreating towards its towers. Another horn blared and the retreat abandoned all semblance of order as the Chaos warriors broke into headlong flight.
‘Hold!’ shouted Vandus. To his relief, the Stormcasts checked their pursuit, and began ordering themselves.
Another horn sounded, shrill and daemonical. The gates to the keeps clanked open, and out thundered tall knights of Chaos upon heavy horses. They rode forward without care for their fellows, and more than one fleeing infantryman was buffeted off the edge of the road. Their lances dropped, and they smashed into the lead elements of Vandus’ army. So many died that the Lord-Celestant lost sight of the Chaos knights as a wall of storm magic leapt upward. Vandus and Calanax hastened forward, the dracoth leaping between lesser walkways, support spars and the vile decorations that clung to them.
A clattering of metal wheels upon the road preceded the arrival of heavy chariots, fashioned from steel, each dragged by a grunting, ape-like creature. Their charge spent, the knights wheeled and fell back with admirable grace, leaving lanes free for the chariots to crash into the ranks of Stormcasts. Unable to move aside, Sigmar’s warriors instead leapt to the attack, and were cut down for their bravery. Dozens of Stormcasts were tossed high into the air by the impact and the flailing fists of the warbeasts. Scythes on wheels lopped limbs from bodies, while those Stormcasts wounded but not slain were finished by the halberds of the charioteers.
‘Is there no end to them?’ asked Vandus. He looked for opportunity. There, on the other causeway, a chariot went hurtling at the rear of a group of Celestial Vindicators. ‘Can you make the leap, my friend?’
Calanax grumbled deep in his chest by way of reply. He crouched down, muscles bunching in his huge haunches. With a tremendous push he jumped into the air. A blur of bubbling silver passed beneath his belly, and he and Vandus were over, slamming straight into the side of the chariot and tipping it over with an almighty bang. It skidded across the road and plummeted into the Silver Sea, its dray-ape hooting in surprise and fury as it was dragged to its death. Another chariot came at them and Calanax lowered his head like a bull, bashing aside the ape and knocking the chariot onto its side. The charioteers were thrown free, one sliding straight off the edge, the other arresting his fall and scrabbling for an axe. Calanax crept up over the upended chariot, and Vandus swept off the man’s head with a blow from Heldensen. The ape-thing ripped at its traces, dragging itself free enough to aim a brutal fist at the dracoth’s face. Calanax caught the hand in his jaws and wrenched it free in a spray of blood. The ape howled and staggered before Calanax disembowelled it with a swipe of his claws.
Calanax climbed atop the wreck, raised his head and roared.
Behind them, Thostos and his men were dispatching the remainder of the infantry. On the other road the Stormcasts finally halted the chariots’ progress and slew riders and beasts. Lesser walkways swayed as warriors duelled upon them.
No quarter was asked and none given. At great cost, the day belonged to the Stormcast Eternals.
Vandus stood atop a captured tower, and watched his men as they went about the unpleasant business that follows any battle. They walked causeways choked with corpses, tipping the bodies of Chaos warriors into the Silver Sea. The air was thick with heat, and the sea glowed ruddily in the dark. The Stormcasts went slowly, for all were by now mightily weary.
‘Eight days’ march, four days’ climb and a battle,’ said Vandus to Calanax, ‘and still Lord Thostos paces like a caged lion, eager for the hunt.’
Vandus watched his restless friend. The foxfire of his eyes glowed balefully. Vandus suppressed a shudder, thinking on the fates of Andricus and Ionus. Would they too be changed when next they met? He had assumed that his friendships in this new life would never be sundered by death. How quickly he had been proven wrong.
‘As for the rest, they are tired.’
Calanax rumbled beside him.
‘Men’s strength lies in another place to yours, my friend,’ said Vandus. ‘And these are not men, but more than men. Even they have their limits, and they must rest.’
He himself was exhausted. His muscles ached. Sorrowful and uncertain, he looked out down the network of pathways and roads. The day had been carried, but the price was almost too high, and Vandus had sincere doubts that he would be successful. First Andricus had fallen, and now Ionus. Only a thousand Stormcasts had followed him up the falls, the rest taken elsewhere by their lords, and of that number a full half had been slain gaining the crucible lip and the first tower. There were dozens of fortifications between them and the island where the Eldritch Fortress sat gloatingly beneath the Chaos gate. Fires burned from the tops of towers, and harsh music and uncouth shouts came from the nearest.
‘How do we reach it?’ he murmured. ‘We have but five hundred Stormcast Eternals remaining. So many are gone back to the chambers of Reforging. I will sorely miss Andricus’ guidance in the matters of siege. We are lost and alone in a nation of maniacs.’ He looked upward. The night was at its darkest, and the skies were rich with stars. He looked to them a while, and when he spoke again he was less bitter. ‘During the Long Calm, I would go to the top of the towers in Sigmaron,’ he said. Calanax huffed out a steaming breath. ‘I would seek enlightenment there, try to remember who I was, and to find my place in the new world I found myself in.’ He looked to his mount. ‘I hear the dragonkin ask the stars for sooth often, and that they sometimes reply. Will they answer me now?’ Vandus looked upwards and slowly shook his head. ‘No. I see nothing. The constellations are all different, and they do not know me. What should I do, noble Calanax? I wish you could speak the tongues of men and share your wisdom.’
Vandus returned his gaze to the stars. The venture hung by a thread. What could he do?
Perhaps… Perhaps the answer lay within himself. He recalled Ionus’ words to him about his visions, that they might prove either useful or treacherous.
Could he seek to trigger them consciously? Vandus was profoundly uncomfortable with the idea, but he closed his eyes. He had no clue what he should do. In his old life he had no gift of magecraft. But was his Stormcast body not suffused with magic? Perhaps all he must do was…
He fell deep within himself. His knees buckled. He felt it as if it had happened to someone else, but enough awareness remained that he fell away from the edge of the tower, and then he knew no more of his earthly body.
A flicker of images came. He saw the Alchemist’s Moon rising up over the edge of the crucible and climbing towards its apogee. As its light intensified, the great wyrm Argentine twisted and hid its face from the brightness. Silver stiffened and solidified. Baying parties of Chaos warriors poured from the keeps and islands of the land and hunted across the solid surface. The silver was still hot, and steamed in the reflected moonlight, but was made hard.
Vandus’ perspective shifted. He saw before him a citadel bigger than any other, and he knew with iron certainty that this was the castle of King
Thrond, the lord of this land. It jutted out over the Silver Sea on a natural promontory of stone and metal. As he saw this, what he must do came to him with utter clarity.
He gasped, and his eyes flew open. His skin ran with sweat under his armour. Despite the heat of the crucible, he shivered.
Calanax nosed his master.
The Lord-Celestant slowly sat up, then stood. Again the weakness he had felt before afflicted him. He walked to the parapet of the tower to look upon his warriors.
He knew what he must do. He shouted for attention and began to address his men.
Chapter Seven
The siege of the citadel
After many travails of blood and sorcery, Vandus’ army had reached the centre of Thrond’s kingdom. Of the many thousands who had set out from Elixia, just a few hundred Stormcasts remained. Behind them burned a score of keeps and lesser forts. Thrond had fled, his armies overthrown and his citadel empty. The king had taken refuge in the Eldritch Fortress.
Nevertheless, Vandus feared victory might slip from his grasp at this last pass. The Alchemist’s Moon was rising and today it would reach its apex, an event that would cause the great wyrm to turn its fires away from the silver sea. Already the moon was sliding past the crucible’s rim, its light picking out the rough hills there in bright silvers and deep sable.
‘Faster my warriors! We must be quicker!’
Vandus sat upon Calanax on a knoll overlooking Thrond’s castle. Around the landward side, Stormcasts worked at the hill, hacking away at the hanging promontory the citadel perched upon. Magical hammers boomed and swords hacked slivers from the metal-rich stone. Thunderbolt crossbows sent crackling jags of energy searing into bedrock, melting the ores therein. Molten metal dripped into the sea and the stone glowed ruby red.
The Alchemist’s Moon cleared the crucible, its lower rim parting from the horizon like the end of a kiss. Argentine shuddered and shied away from its weird brightness, and the silver started to thicken.
‘Faster!’ called Vandus. His eyes flicked back and forth between his warriors and the Alchemist’s Moon. So quickly it hauled itself heavenward, flowing as smoothly as quicksilver. At the summit of the island squatted Ephryx’s Eldritch Fortress. Its walls ran up to the very brink, jutting over the Silver Sea here and there. Strands of magical force crackled and whooped around the walls. Its copper skulls glowed with evil energies. The air shimmered and ran with multicoloured sheet lightning. Over it pulsed the mighty Shardgate, an irregular gash in the air surrounded by an inhumanly tall archway studded with gigantic crystals.
The stepped walls of Thrond’s castle were modest by comparison, a crenellated ziggurat adorned with snarling effigies of his menagerie. It was situated upon a jag of rock standing clear of the island, directly above the Silver Sea.
‘You race against two hourglasses. The timing must be perfect for your plan to work, and the sorcerer prepares to shift his fortress once more,’ said Thostos. ‘Let the sands of one run out, and all is lost. How long can we chase this mage across Chamon?’
‘The timing will be perfect,’ said Vandus. ‘And if it is not, we will hunt him until the hammer is recovered. There is no other way.’
‘There is not, I concur. But we have only minutes before this chance is gone,’ said Thostos.
‘We shall be ready,’ said Vandus.
Some deep-set part of the castle’s foundations cracked. Stone screeched on stone. A quiver ran through the building, barely perceptible to the eyes of men, but strong enough to shake loose a statue and send it crashing into the sea.
‘Halt!’ shouted Vandus. He ordered the Stormcasts back from the trench they had hacked into the stone. Judicators aimed their weapons at the weakened section bridge and tensed for the final order.
The moon went higher, eclipsing the stars with its bulk. Magic shivered through Vandus’ armour at its waxing might. The silver wyrm’s fires had gone out. The sea heaved under a rapidly forming skin.
‘Stand ready,’ said Thostos.
The moon passed over the Shardgate, and its outline wavered behind the weird magics. The crystals in the gate glittered with colours as they captured the moon’s light.
Calanax roared. Vandus dropped his arm.
The assembled Judicators of his army fired with their magical arrows. The missiles transmuted themselves to darts and spears of energy, and slammed into the ground by the base of Thrond’s citadel.
A dazzling light burst across the Silver Sea, the moon’s glow reflected twenty times over. Deprived of Argentine’s fire, the ripples on the metal slowed and stopped. The shadow of the fortress and the island swept around the coast, and the silver stopped its churning.
With a tremendous crack, the stone under Thrond’s citadel broke. Showers of rock splattered into the thick medium of the sea. Then the fortress itself hit the setting sea, sending up a tall sheet of thick silver as it splashed down. This washed up the cliffs, onto the fortress walls, curling back onto itself in a massive argent wave.
The shadow passed. The moonlight arrested the ocean, and the wave froze. Droplets of suddenly solidified silver fell from the sky as hard as bullets, rattling on the surface of the sea.
‘The fortress is held fast!’ shouted Vandus. ‘Ghal Maraz awaits! Charge!’
With a shout, the Stormhosts scrambled forward onto the frozen mass of the wave. Digging in blades and clawed fingers, they hauled themselves upwards. The silver was still hot, and the metal burned them as they climbed, but the Stormcasts did not relent. In places it was thin, while in others too smooth or too hard, and a number fell, sigmarite clattering as they skidded helplessly off the metal and down to the sea below. Their departure boomed loudly over the frozen ocean, but still the Stormcasts were undeterred.
Calanax raced up the wave, taking Vandus to the plateau atop the island. Magic crackled and arced along the fortress wall, then gave out with a piercing series of whistles. Frozen silver anchored the walls firmly to the stone. The fortress was held fast.
Vandus got down from the back of Calanax and strode to the nearest gate. He hefted Heldensen and slammed it hard against the grotesque bronze face cast into the surface.
‘Bring out the hammer!’ bellowed Vandus. He smote the door again. ‘I call upon you, Ephryx of Chamon. Bring out the hammer and your end will be swift.’ A third time Heldensen clashed into the gate, scarring the metal.
The Stormcast Eternals had gained the cliff top and were forming up. No word came from the fortress. The outer walls were much cracked and damaged from Thostos’ earlier assault, and left unmanned.
‘Give me your answer, Ephryx!’ shouted Vandus. ‘You are lost!’
The rest of Vandus’ army came after him. Thostos strode to his side.
A crackling sound came from above, a whine building behind it. Vandus stepped backwards until he could spy the Shardgate over the looming tower and walls. The crystal adornments sprayed fountains of sparks and long, bright streaks of crimson fire into the night; they flickered, turning through forms of pure light, patches of darkness, and back to gems. The Shardgate rippled, the roil of energy visible through it coalescing and forming a wide landscape comprised solely of hideous faces. Uncountable voices whispered covetously as unearthly eyes fixed themselves upon Chamon.
‘Here is your answer, Vandus Hammerhand.’
The voice issued from the mouth of every gargoyle on the fortress walls. It was old and wise and full of dread power. Malice dripped from every word. ‘A tide of daemons to drown in. The hammer is no longer the godling’s, but mine. Begone from the gates of the Eldritch Fortress – take tidings of his defeat from here and you may yet live awhile.’
The whine reached a crescendo. A howling wind burst out from the Shardgate. One after another, the crystals exploded, sending tinkling fragments all over the fortress. When the last detonated in a burst of multicoloured fire, the Shardgate dilated, yawning w
ider and wider until it filled the sky. A triumphant scream blasted out and the faces upon the other side pressed forward then burst through, the single mass they made splitting into a cascade of daemons that showered to the ground in an unending flood. They were long-armed and pumpkin-bodied, of blue and pink. They laughed and grumbled as they landed, galloping forward in knuckling runs and swinging down the decoration on the outside of the walls, as agile as apes.
‘There is a breach in the wall,’ said Thostos to Vandus, unmoved by the horde of creatures leaping free from the Realm of Chaos. ‘This way.’
Moments later, the first of the daemons slammed into the Stormcasts.
‘Your magics are poor, wizard,’ said Korghos Khul. He and King Thrond seemed to fill Ephryx’s scrying chamber. Khul stank of blood and his eyes were manic in the sockets of the skull he wore as a helmet.
‘And you promised me a horde of daemons, but bring me only mortals!’ snapped Ephryx. ‘Fortunate it is for us all that my magic is strong enough to call up my own daemons.’
He stalked back and forth, mind working madly. His plans were not going as he intended, none of them. The daemon gale would hold the enemy for a while, but for how long? Already, upon seeing the Stormcasts approach, he had resolved to flee once again. But the fortress was held fast. Dare he attempt the translocation to the Crystal Labyrinth now? He fretted over the issue. Despite what he said to the warriors, he had taken no part in the daemon gale, and its advent spoke of but one thing: Kairos.
‘My chariots will stop them,’ said Thrond. ‘We have no need of this blood-crazed madman.’
‘Will they now?’ Ephryx cast his gaze heavenward in exasperation. ‘They did not stop the foe upon the walkways. Your forts did not stop them, your warriors did not stop them, your knights did not stop them!’ he said bitterly.
‘This remains my kingdom, Ephryx. Watch your tongue.’
Ghal Maraz Page 18