by C. L. Werner
Lightning struck the mast of one of the dragon ships, and the sails burst into flame. The creature may have been retreating, thought Lathyerin, but it had done its job. The elf fleet had been caught by the storm.
Sudobaal laughed to himself as he finally released his control of the leviathan and allowed it to return to its icy depths. The elves would not be arriving on the island first.
BOOK THREE
CHAPTER NINETEEN
'Hurry up, curse you!' snarled Hroth as he climbed the ancient steps carved into the cliff face. He bounded up another set of steps, taking them four at a time, before turning to stare balefully at the sorcerer climbing more slowly behind him. Sudobaal was breathing heavily and leaning on his staff as he struggled up the stairs.
Below them, Hroth could see the Norscans on the beach battling with the elves that were landing in greater numbers. He longed to be down amongst the bloodshed and slaughter, feeling his blood pumping quickly through his altered form in response to the battle. His muscles tensed, and he clenched his hands into fists. More white-sailed elf ships were arriving, skimming across the sea at great speed. They swerved in front of the beach, their shallow draughts allowing them to approach within feet of land. Hundreds of arrows filled the air, together with the larger bolts fired from war machines mounted on the ships.
Lightning lit up the beach and thunder boomed. Rain lashed down on Hroth and Sudobaal, making the stones slippery and dangerous. They had already climbed several hundred feet, and there was around a hundred feet more before they reached the summit, and their prize and goal.
The battle was faring poorly down below, and Hroth had to repress the urge to race down into the fray. He knew that if he was there the elves would stand no chance. He knew the effect of his battle frenzy, and could feel the power of his deity coursing through him. Khorne had made his body strong, so that weapons shattered against his flesh, and he was able to shrug off otherwise fatal wounds. With the power granted him, he could tear a man limb from limb with little effort. He was taller and stronger than ever before, he knew, and all cowered before him. All could see the power of the gods within him, evident not only in his flaming eyes and the curving horns that sprouted from his head, but in the power that he exuded. All feared and respected him, except for the sorcerer, Sudobaal, Hroth thought, but soon that would change.
'The power of Chaos is strong on this island.' hissed Sudobaal in between gasps. Hroth could feel it too - he felt more powerful, closer to his god, as if the air itself was lending him strength. The island seemed to have been affected by this power too: plants writhed and twisted, toothed flowers snapping at the pair as they passed and daemonic faces appeared in the rock face, soundlessly screaming in torment.
'It is the breath of the gods. I can feel its power calling to me.' hissed Sudobaal. 'We must hurry.'
The sorcerer shuffled past the glowering Hroth, and continued up the next set of rough-hewn stairs. Hroth took a last look down at the ensuing battle, his muscles tense, before he turned and bounded up the stairs past the sorcerer.
He reached the top of the rise before Sudobaal. The rough path continued around a large rock, and down a set of stairs on the other side. Rounding the corner, he felt the power of Chaos intensify suddenly, washing over him in a stomach-churning wave. Laughter and screaming passed through his mind, and he almost staggered under the power of it. There before him was a massive fissure in the rock face. Steam seeped from the cracks in the rock around the cave entrance, like the breath of some giant slumbering beast within. The entrance was framed with craggy, sharp rock so that it resembled a gaping, gigantic maw.
A pair of stones stood on either side of the entranceway. They had once been tall and elegant, made from a luminous white stone, and Hroth could see elf runes carved up their sides, filled with gold. They had been shattered half-way up, the broken pieces of the glowing rock lying scattered around the entrance. Black throbbing veins could be seen climbing the white stones - the corrupting power of Chaos overpowering the elf magic. Sudobaal shuffled around the corner, and staggered under the sudden power emanating from the cavern. He regained his composure quickly, and surveyed the entrance with greed-filled eyes.
'The arrogance, thinking they could hold back the power of Chaos.' he spat. An evil grin appeared on his face. 'This is it: the goal that we have been working towards.' With that, the pair entered the cavern of Chaos, the sorcerer striding boldly, the chosen of Khorne walking more warily, his axe in his hands.
Dozens of elf ships raced into the shallows, under the protective fire of others. Hundreds of elf warriors leapt into the surf, brandishing their spears and tall shields, their silver helms shining nobly in the flashes of lightning. The Norse met them in the knee-deep, turbulent water, and the sea ran red with the blood of man and elf.
Lathyerin leapt into the water. It came up to his thighs, soaking his long robes with its icy touch. He lowered his shining sword at the enemy, and led his men in a charge through the choppy water. The strong undercurrents pulled at him, but he fought them, struggling through the water towards the battle erupting before him.
Black fins cut through the shallow water, and he saw an elf go down thrashing as a shark grabbed him around the torso. Wolves of the sea, Lathyerin called them, and they had been driven into a frenzy by the amount of blood in the water. The foam of the waves was red as it washed over him, but he ignored his disgust, and ploughed on.
Arrows streamed over his head, falling amongst the Norscans. Most managed to raise their shields against them, but dozens dropped into the churning sea, screaming, arrows protruding from necks and exposed arms. The sharks were amongst them, and he saw one man stagger as a massive black shape grabbed his leg, dragging him thrashing out to deeper water.
With a shout, Lathyerin threw himself against the foe, his shining sword carving through a hide-bound shield and into the face of the Norscan holding it. He fell with a scream, and Lathyerin stabbed down, finishing the man off. His trusted sea guard formed up around him, stabbing and killing with their long spears. The Norscans threw themselves onto the points, dragging them down so that their comrades could close with the elves.
One big warrior of Chaos, darker skinned than the others, threw himself at the elves, ignoring two spears that smashed into his chest. With a sweep of his axe, he shattered the hafts of the weapons and leapt upon the elves who wielded them. Ditching his axe, the warrior punched one of them in the face, and leapt upon the other, his hands grabbing the elf's face and squeezing tightly, until blood spurted from the elf's pointed ears and he went limp.
Lathyerin tried to close with the berserk warrior, but the surge and flow of battle took the madman away from him. He blocked a sword thrust and sent a deadly riposte into the neck of another Norscan.
With a gust of air and an unearthly roar, the Dragon Prince Khalanos swept into the fray. His massive green-blue dragon smashed down into the Norscans, ripping and rending, and sending a great wave of water into the air. Lathyerin saw a man bitten in two, and another's arms sheared off with a flash of the dragon's claws. Khalanos himself spitted a pair of Norscans on his lance. The dragon rose into the air once again, and breathed fiery death upon a dozen other enemy. The seawater churned and boiled under the intense heat, rising in scalding steam. Those Norscans who had ducked under the water to escape the flames rolling towards them emerged screaming, the flesh scalded from their bones.
'Forward!' screamed Lathyerin, and charged on, seeking to rout the demoralised Norscans before him. His sea guard ran at his side. Those armed with bows sent their shafts hurtling into the enemy, striking them down in their scores. The water was filled with dead bodies, thrown to and fro by the relentless waves.
Lathyerin felt something large hit him, knocking him from his feet, and the elf next to him screamed. A massive fifteen-foot shark had him in its mouth, its jaw clamped around his arm and torso, his shield splintering under the strength of the creature. Lunging forwards, Lathyerin stabbed his blazing sword
into the creature's head, driving it deep into the brain. The creature went berserk, thrashing around in its death throes. It knocked the wind from Lathyerin and he fell beneath the water. He gasped, sucking in a lungful of bloody salt water. He rose, coughing, and continued to advance up onto the beach.
All along the beach, the elves were pushing up onto the sand, forcing the Norscans back.
A tall warrior stood before Lathyerin, butchering the elves around him with a pair of swords. He threw himself towards the brute, stabbing his glowing blade towards the warrior's back as he twisted. As if sensing the approaching blow and moving with impossible speed, the tall Norscan spun lightly to deflect the strike. His second sword hissed out, sinking into Lathyerin's neck, and he fell without a sound.
Ulkjar Moerk Headtaker did not pause after killing the elf with the glowing sword, and continued to weave a path of destruction through the elf ranks. Still, there were just too many of them, and his Norscans were being pushed back.
'Whatever you are doing sorcerer, do it quickly!' he muttered as he slew again.
Sudobaal trailed his taloned hand along the smooth rock wall as he descended deeper into the caverns. The rock pulsed with light and colour: blues, greens and purples. Veins of darker matter crisscrossed the smooth rock, throbbing with barely contained energy, and Sudobaal marvelled at the power coursing around him.
The hairs on the back of Hroth's neck were standing on end, warning him of the magic in this place. On the one hand, he felt closer to his god than he had ever done when not on the field of battle, but he was also wary of the strong magic that filled the caverns, ever mistrustful of sorcery. He held his axe tightly as he descended behind the sorcerer.
There was light within the cave, although it was an eerie cold light that came from the walls. The blue flames of the sorcerer's staff burned coldly, reflecting back at the pair off the smooth, reflective walls. They descended towards a bowl-shaped cavern, a circular room with walls that curved into the floor. Smoke, dark purple-red, like the colour of clotted blood, swirled around the room, coiling and whipping around at great speed.
As they neared the entrance to the room, the colour and light of the walls flared brightly, colours swirling and writhing. Through the roiling red smoke, they could see a white stone casket, sitting on top of a rocky platform, in the centre of the room. The casket was bedecked with elf runes that were flaring brightly, white-hot. Sudobaal hissed as he saw the runes, for they burnt his eyes painfully. Looking at them gave Hroth a pain inside his head, and he gripped his axe tighter.
Sudobaal stopped Hroth from entering the room, placing one bony hand on the massive warrior's chest. Hroth looked down with disdain at the hand touching him, but halted his movement.
The sorcerer stepped to the entrance and held up his hand and his staff, as if feeling the air. The purple-red smoke whipped past him, just inches from his hands, contained within the room. He whispered some guttural words and the elf runes flared even brighter. Nodding, he stepped back, and drew out a long, curved dagger. He raised it to his face and cut a long slash down each of his cheeks. Sheathing the blade, he smeared the palm of his hand on each cut, and then stepped back towards the entranceway, raising his blood-smeared hand.
The smoke seemed to be attracted to the blood, circling within the room frantically, focusing around the sorcerers outstretched hand. The elf runes flared brightly as he began to chant once again. He barked a harsh word, and one of the runes flared brightly and exploded in a small shattering of light. He barked the word again, and again, until each of the elf runes was snuffed out of existence.
With a smile on his face, Sudobaal watched as the last of the runes disappeared. The smoke changed colour subtly, becoming darker, and began to swirl more frenetically. The casket itself began to crack, and its white surface changed to black. Sharp protrusions sprouted from the casket, until it was ringed with rising spikes and spines that curled out of the stone.
Sudobaal closed his eyes briefly. His time had come: time to take what was rightfully his, and have his ascendancy, time to dispose of Hroth the Blooded. The Khorne champion had done what was needed, gathering an army and bringing him safely to this place, but now his use had passed, and the upstart was becoming quite a powerful champion of the gods - he was not sure how long he would be able to best him.
Sudobaal began to mouth an incantation and started to turn towards the massive warrior. In that second, he saw the axe descending towards his skull, and he recoiled backwards in shock. Instinctively, he spat a word in the language of Chaos, and a smoky black, insubstantial, clawed hand caught the axe before it struck. Hroth growled in anger, and Sudobaal scrambled backwards, putting some distance between the two. An instant later, the sorcerous claw disappeared.
Sudobaal lowered his staff, and crackling blue flames burst towards Hroth. The warrior had sensed the sorcerers move, and had already bunched his muscles to spring, but he was too slow. The flames engulfed him as he tried to roll to the side, throwing him backwards to smash against the smooth stone wall. He fell to the ground, his body smouldering, his flesh singed and his armour blackened. He snarled with hatred and anger.
Sudobaal drew the power of Chaos into him, drawing in the magic that leaked from the casket in the next room and hung in the air. He felt it building within him, and he rejoiced in the feeling. Rarely had he felt such power, and now he would destroy Hroth with it, destroy him utterly and send him screaming into the Realms of Chaos, there to be tortured until the end of time. How dare the fool strike out at him?
His golden eyes turned black as the power in him built, and the air around him was filled with electricity. The blue flames on his staff roared, filling the room with its cold light. The blue flames flowed down over his arms and shoulders, flickering down across his body, and up over his face and hood. Within moments, his whole body was ablaze. He opened his mouth, and the flames descended down into lungs and stomach, suffusing him completely.
'How could you ever have hoped to best me?' the blazing figure questioned. 'You would never have stood a chance against my magics.'
The smouldering figure of Hroth rolled to his feet. His eyes burned too, but with fires hot and angry, seeming at odds with the cold blue flames that covered the sorcerer. 'Magic is for weaklings who cannot wield a blade, and lack the courage to face their enemy face to face, runt,' he snarled.
'Is that right?' the sorcerer chuckled. 'So what does that make you, if you are bested by a magic-wielding weakling?'
'You will never best me, Sudobaal. I'll have your soul,' snarled the Khorne champion, readying himself to leap at the sorcerer.
'Goodbye, champion,' whispered Sudobaal, and unleashed the power contained within him. The champion leapt forwards, but was not halfway across the cavern when the power struck him. It should have ripped through his flesh, rending it from his bones before sending him screaming into the Realms of Chaos, but the blue flames washed over him without touching him at all, passing around him and never getting within an inch of his flesh. Hroth could feel the heat and power of the spell that should have ended him, but it did not touch him.
With a gasp, the sorcerer fell back. Hroth emerged from the blast unscathed, but he took only two steps before he dropped to his knees, hissing in pain. His massive axe clanged to the stone floor, and his hands clawed at his neck. The flesh was bulging strangely, as if something within was struggling to escape. His head twitched to the side, and a series of brass spikes suddenly ripped through his flesh from within. Blood poured down the inside of his armour as the spikes continued to push out from within his neck, followed by a heavy metal ring. Finally, the pain gone, Hroth stood. Sudobaal crouched on the floor, staring in disbelief.
Hroth reached up a hand to touch the spiked collar that had emerged from within his flesh to encircle his neck. Then he grinned, and turned his burning eyes towards Sudobaal with a shrug.
'A collar of Khorne.' gasped the sorcerer. Bestowed by the Blood God upon some of its favoured daemons, the co
llar of Khorne was a powerful artefact that protected the wearer from harmful magic.
In desperation, Sudobaal spat a curse at Hroth, and a multitude of black, smoky figures appeared around the champion of Khorne, their red eyes filled with hatred. They reached towards the champion with long clawed hands to claim his soul, but they could not touch him, and recoiled from him in pain. He swatted at them with his axe as he strode towards the sorcerer, and their insubstantial forms dissipated into the air.
Sudobaal raised his staff once more, and lightning crackled around its tip, but Hroth smashed it aside with a kick. He lifted the sorcerer into the air, holding him around the neck. Holding him up to his eyes, the black robed figure's dangling feet some two feet off the ground, Hroth smiled evilly. 'You're in some trouble now, sorcerer,' he snarled.
Hroth hurled the sorcerer across the room, and he smashed into the wall before sliding to a heap on the ground. The Khorne champion walked to the crumpled figure and lifted him once again by the throat. 'I will have your soul,' he added, before hurling him across the room once again. Sudobaal slammed into the wall on the other side of the cavern.
'I don't want to kill you,' said Hroth as he walked back towards the broken form of the sorcerer, who was whimpering, 'at least not just yet.' He turned towards the bowl-shaped room, still filled with frantically swirling smoke and coiling energies.
'What happens when I walk through there? Hmm? What happens?' he asked, kicking the sorcerer when he did not answer immediately. Sudobaal coughed up blood, spitting it out onto the floor.
'It is my destiny, you Khazag bastard,' the sorcerer managed. Hroth chuckled.
'Well, I cannot say that you don't have spirit, sorcerer. 'You are lying there pathetic and bloody, and yet still you insult me.'
'I will kill you.' whispered the sorcerer, spluttering blood.
'No, you will not, Sudobaal. No longer will I be the dog. From now on,I am the master here, and Iwillhave your soul. Now, I am going through into that room and claiming what is mine.'