The Rise of Nagash

by Mike Lee

  Shiwat’s man edged his horse closer, until he sat almost between Arkhan and Khamenes. ‘You said something about a proposition.’

  Arkhan bowed his head in acknowledgement. ‘As I said before, Raamket and the warriors I left in the east are rushing to claim Nagashizzar even now. I would bet my soul on it. And even if I get to Nagashizzar ahead of him, I can’t hold him off with just a handful of wights.’

  ‘So you need me to deal with Raamket,’ Khamenes interjected.

  ‘You? You think you can defeat the Red Lord alone?’ Arkhan’s laugh echoed up and down the valley. ‘No. It would take both your armies, plus the walls of Nagashizzar, to hold Raamket at bay.’

  The heavy cavalryman’s lips curled back in contempt, but Khamenes did not try to argue the point. ‘And what would we gain from such an alliance?’

  Arkhan spread his arms. ‘Power. What else? I know where Nagash kept his secret tomes in Nagashizzar. I know how to get past all the traps he laid to destroy would-be thieves. Most of all, I know how to interpret his notes and perform the great rituals.’

  The horse archer leaned towards Arkhan. Shiwat’s greed gleamed in the corpse’s beady eyes. ‘You will share them with us?’

  ‘Better that than bend the knee to Raamket. Do you not agree?’

  Neither of the corpses spoke for a moment. Arkhan could only wait and see if they would take the bait. Khamenes was the dangerous one. His intelligence did not match his ambition. If he decided that he could deal with Raamket himself…

  Shiwat spoke first. ‘How would the power be shared between us?’

  Arkhan spread his hands. ‘Perhaps we can discuss it on the march. Every moment we wait, Raamket draws closer to the prize.’ He looked to Khamenes for agreement.

  The heavy cavalryman sat stiffly in his weathered saddle, shrivelled lips drawn tight. His green eyes blazed with irritation, but there was a degree of calculation there as well. ‘Agreed,’ Khamenes barked. The corpse turned his horse about. ‘Bring up your warriors, Shiwat. You will cover my right flank as we advance. Any warrior that cannot keep up will be left behind.’

  Arkhan hissed in satisfaction. His chances of reaching the great mountain had risen considerably. ‘Shall I ride with you, Khamenes?’ he asked.

  ‘Go wherever you like,’ Khamenes snarled. ‘So long as you stay out of my way.’

  Khamenes set a brutal pace through the wastelands north of the dead river, driving his warriors through the treacherous ground with ruthlessness and an impressive degree of sorcery. Shiwat struggled to keep up. From time to time, Arkhan wondered if Khamenes was doing it to try and provoke Shiwat into overextending his necromantic powers, as he had very nearly done in the chase up the valley. If Shiwat managed to immolate himself, Khamenes could then try to seize Shiwat’s forces for himself, and have one less rival to share the throne with.

  Arkhan took Khamenes at his word and kept out of the liche’s way. The air was thick with treachery. He had no doubt at all that his erstwhile allies would turn on him the instant they had access to Nagash’s tomes. Even Shiwat, dull as he was, was no doubt hatching schemes of his own. During the journey, he did what he could to play the two liches against one another. With careful planning and a little luck, they would turn on each other first, giving him enough advance warning to deal with whoever survived. Khamenes was more clever and a more potent necromancer, but Shiwat’s army was larger. No doubt Khamenes hoped the brutal march to Nagashizzar would at least even the scales somewhat.

  The armies never stopped marching. Day and night, they worked their way through the wasteland, following routes scouted out by Shiwat’s horse archers. Warriors and horsemen were lost along the way, their bodies wrecked by falls, or pulled down in the dark by packs of hungry jackals, or blown away by sudden, savage windstorms that swept the wastes from the west. The losses were small but steady, slowly bleeding away the strength of both armies, until Arkhan worried that they might not be able to face a real threat once they reached the great mountain.

  Khamenes accepted the cost without hesitation, and left Shiwat with no choice but to do so as well. The march was brutal, but effective. Two months after forming their unsteady alliance, Shiwat’s scouts reached the marshlands west of the Sour Sea. Once again, Khamenes drove his army into the marshes without a second thought, but the murky terrain and the twisted denizens of the swamp threatened to swallow his troops whole. After two days, the liche was forced to pull his army out of the marshland and follow Shiwat and Arkhan around its perimeter.

  After a week, the armies left the marshlands behind and entered the hilly country of the flesh-eaters. The ghouls, driven almost to extinction during the war against the rat-men, howled hungrily from their nests as the armies went by.

  With every passing day, Nagashizzar grew larger and more ominous on the eastern horizon. Arkhan studied the grave-lights glimmering from dozens of fortress towers and wondered what he would find inside.

  The armies crossed the northern edge of the Sour Sea, and were only a few miles from the great road that led to Nagashizzar’s main gate, when Shiwat’s forces lurched to a sudden halt. Arkhan gathered his wights about him and pushed through the packed ranks of skeletons, seeking the liche and his retinue.

  Shiwat was far forward along the line of march, along with the rest of his cavalry. The liche was clad in heavy scaled armour much like the harness that Arkhan wore, and carried a wicked-looking bronze khopesh at his hip. Half a dozen heavy horsemen formed a protective cordon around their master, where he sat upon the summit of a low hill.

  Arkhan edged up the hill to join him. From their vantage point, he could see the northern road that climbed the hills in the direction of the Plain of Grass, and trace its route southwards up to the towering arch of Nagashizzar’s main gate. Astonishingly, the huge portal lay open, as though inviting the armies inside.

  The bulk of Khamenes’s forces were more than a mile to the west, jammed up along the narrow paths that wound through the hill country. Shiwat was blind to the opportunity before him. He could have easily used his spearmen to block Khamenes in the hills and raced into Nagashizzar alone. Instead, his gaze was turned southward, studying the misty surface of the Sour Sea.

  ‘What is going on?’ Arkhan asked, drawing up beside Shiwat. In reply, the liche pointed a bony finger to the south.

  Arkhan bit back his irritation and studied the sea’s surface. For a few moments, all he could make out was shifting currents of mist. Finally, off to the southeast, he caught sight of something low and broad amid the layers of vapour. Then he saw the brief flash of oars, and understood what he was looking at: a troop ship, one of the wide-bellied troop barges Arkhan had used to sail his army to Lahmia months ago. And it wasn’t alone.

  There was a disturbance at the foot of the hill. Khamenes had arrived, with a squadron of heavy cavalry at his heels. The liche forced his way past Shiwat’s bodyguards and lurched up the slope, his eyes blazing. ‘What is the meaning of this?’ he snarled.

  ‘It’s Raamket,’ Arkhan declared. ‘He’s landing his troops on the eastern shore.’

  ‘What should we do?’ Shiwat asked.

  Arkhan studied the shoreline where Raamket had already beached a handful of troopships. The Red Lord was hurriedly forming up a large force of fast-moving cavalry, which could make good time crossing the slopes beneath the fortress walls. Fortunately, it appeared that only Nagashizzar’s main gate was open, so the race was still anyone’s to win. The liche gauged distances and weighed the odds. He likely wouldn’t get a better opportunity than this.

  ‘We must hurry,’ he said. ‘Gather your horsemen. While Shiwat’s infantry moves to block Raamket’s advance, we seize the gate. Quickly!’

  Without waiting for a reply, Arkhan spurred his horse and charged down the far slope of the hill. His wights swept Shiwat’s warriors aside as they raced for the northern road. Seconds later, Shiwat and Khamenes were in hot pursuit, just as Arkhan hoped.

  It was the work of only a few minu
tes to break free from the packed ranks of Shiwat’s army. Arkhan drove his horse onward, gaining speed as he raced for the dark ribbon of the roadway. Cavalrymen closed in on him from all sides—Shiwat’s horse archers, plus a leavening of heavy cavalry that had formed part of the army’s vanguard. They closed in around him like a fist, gradually slowing him down until Shiwat could catch up. The liche was not quite as dense as he appeared.

  They reached the north road and turned southeast, hooves clattering on the crushed stone surface. Horns wailed in the distance. Raamket had caught sight of his rivals. Shiwat’s infantry was already quick-marching down from the hills and spreading out to form a battle-line facing the Red Lord’s approaching cavalry. The enemy horsemen might break through the hasty defensive line, but by then it would be too late.

  Arkhan and his erstwhile allies charged down the north road, passing the ancient, slumped ruins of the old Yaghur temple fortress. The towering gate of the fortress loomed above them. Grave-lights shone balefully from the ominous bulk of the outer barbican, like the hungry eyes of a leviathan. The open gateway beckoned, only a couple of miles ahead. It was an impossible stroke of luck. Arkhan had never known the gates of Nagashizzar to be left open. He had originally planned to distract Shiwat and Khamenes with efforts to scale the fortress walls, while he slipped away and entered Nagashizzar using more secret means.

  Now he would wait until they were inside the fortress walls. Once past the barbican, he would utter the incantation to seal the main gate, separating his rivals from the bulk of their warriors. He would slay Khamenes first, then turn his attentions to Shiwat. And then, if he had enough strength left, he would seize control of their armies and turn them on Raamket.

  The first of Shiwat’s cavalry reached the gate and disappeared into the darkness beyond. The outer wall—the first of seven curtain walls that climbed the slopes of the fortress—was more than sixty feet thick at the base, and was traversed by a high, arched tunnel that led to an inner gate. In the past, the tunnel had been lit by grave-lamps, which burned coldly from metal sconces set high in the tunnel walls. Those had gone dark, somehow, and the tunnel was as lightless as a tomb.

  Arkhan and his wights raced past the gate moments later. The air within was cold and dank, and reeked with fumes from the mountain’s many idle forges. The darkness within was oppressive. There wasn’t even a faint glow of grave-light at the far end of the tunnel from the inner courtyard.

  The liche felt a chill settle into his bones. He couldn’t see the lights of the inner courtyard. That was impossible. Unless…

  Arkhan reined in his horse with such violence that the undead mount skidded ten feet along the paving stones. By the time his wights had clattered to a stop, he had already turned about and was racing back the other way as fast as the undead beast could carry him. Khamenes and Shiwat flashed by, shouting in alarm.

  He couldn’t see the inner courtyard because the inner gate was shut. They’d ridden headlong into a trap.

  Sorcery stirred the aether. There was an earth-shaking groan and the gates of Nagashizzar began to close. Arrows hissed through the darkness. One thudded into his horse’s backside, sinking deeply enough for the arrowhead to grate against bone. Arkhan shouted an incantation of his own, trying to speed his mount further, only to find the spell expertly countered by some unseen foe.

  The fortress gates were closing, but their great bulk did not move easily. Had he been another ten yards further down the tunnel, he would not have made it in time. As it was, the sides of the gates were almost close enough to touch as Arkhan raced by. Khamenes and Shiwat appeared moments later, driving their mounts with all the will they possessed.

  Many of Shiwat’s horsemen were not so lucky. Two were caught between the swinging gates and crushed to powder. The rest were trapped in the tunnel, at the mercy of the hidden archers.

  Outside, the walls of Nagashizzar had come alive, raining destruction on the armies at their feet. Arrows, javelins and sling stones rained down on Shiwat’s infantry and Raamket’s horsemen alike. As Arkhan emerged onto the battlefield, there was a rumble from the barbican as a handful of catapults went into action. Smooth stones the size of chariots arced overhead, plunging down onto Shiwat’s battle-line and wreaking havoc on the tightly packed companies. The liche responded with a blast of sorcery, raking the battlements with a storm of greenish lightning, to no apparent effect.

  Arkhan kept going, ignoring the chaos of battle to his left. He raced for the ruins of the temple fortress, gauging them to be outside the range of Nagashizzar’s defences. Within moments, the retreating horsemen drew the attention of the defenders on the walls. The rain of arrows picked off a dozen of Khamenes’s trailing horsemen before the rest were out of reach.

  Khamenes and Shiwat reined in around Arkhan, who had taken shelter beneath the temple fortress’s gate arch.

  ‘You lied!’ Khamenes roared. ‘You said Nagash was gone! Now he thinks we have rebelled against him!’

  Arkhan’s mind raced. The brush with destruction had left him rattled. Out on the slopes, Raamket’s horsemen were in swift retreat, racing for cover from the endless volleys of arrows. Shiwat’s infantry were pulling back as well, though more than a third of them had already been destroyed.

  ‘Nagash is gone, you idiot,’ Arkhan snapped. ‘We would never have made it this far otherwise.’

  ‘Then how else do you explain this?’

  ‘Isn’t it obvious?’ Arkhan said. ‘Someone has reached the fortress ahead of us.’ He glared up at the mountain. Who could it have been? Aten-heru? Bhashan? It didn’t seem likely. Bhashan wasn’t much brighter than Shiwat, and Aten-heru didn’t make a move without Raamket’s blessing. Who did that leave?

  Whoever it was, he had control of Nagashizzar, and worse, Nagash’s hoarded knowledge. The fact that he was using arrows instead of enslaving them outright suggested that he didn’t have access to the higher rituals yet—but that was only a matter of time.

  Shiwat completed the withdrawal of his surviving troops. The slope near the gatehouse was covered in smashed skeletons and scattered bones. The liche turned to Arkhan. ‘What now?’

  Arkhan bit back a curse. Things had just gotten a great deal more complicated.

  ‘Now we talk to Raamket.’

  The Red Lord came to the parley in person, just as Arkhan expected he would. Aten-heru stood at his side, along with a modest bodyguard of a dozen heavily armed wights—and a pair of spokesmen. The pitch that had been used to preserve the bodies of both liches, hundreds of years ago, had ruined their lungs and vocal chords.

  They stood a few hundred yards from the ruins of the temple fortress, just within the shadow of the main gate, yet beyond the reach of the wall’s catapults. Raamket and Aten-heru had run a gauntlet of missile fire to reach the parley site, and had lost a number of warriors along the way.

  One of the spokesmen dismounted clumsily from his horse and sank to his knees in front of Raamket. At the time of his death he had been a boy of twelve or thirteen, slightly built, with high cheekbones and curly black hair. Much of his skin from the neck down was missing. It had likely gone to help make Raamket’s new cloak, Arkhan mused.

  Arkhan stood a few feet away, flanked by spokesmen for Shiwat and Khamenes, who hid themselves in the ruins at his back.

  The boy’s face twisted in a long, grotesque grin. ‘I’m not here to negotiate,’ Raamket said. ‘You can either surrender your forces to me, or I’ll kill you and take them anyway.’

  Arkhan gave the Red Lord a death’s-head grin. ‘You can’t win, Raamket. Fight us, and even if you win, I guarantee there won’t be enough left of your army to conquer Nagashizzar. Unless you’d rather settle this with a duel? If so, I would be happy to oblige you.’

  Raamket bristled. His lips drew back in a snarl, revealing teeth that had been filed to points and were now stained a dull grey. The pitch had dyed his skin black, but otherwise had left his features reasonably well preserved. His large hands clenched in anger, but
he refused to rise to the bait.

  ‘What do you want?’ the boy’s corpse said.

  Arkhan glanced from one liche to the other. ‘First, where is Bhashan and his army? Did you leave him in Nehekara?’

  The boy gave a ghastly chuckle. ‘Bhashan is still in Nehekara, yes. Or what’s left of him, at least. His army now belongs to me.’

  Arkhan’s gaze turned to the distant fortress. Bhashant had been sent to wipe out Lybaras, which would have left him closer to Nagashizzar than even Raamket or Aten-heru. If not him, then who was lurking behind those walls?

  ‘Be that as it may, you still do not have enough forces to breach those walls, Raamket. You need all the help you can get.’

  The Red Lord was unimpressed. ‘If I need more troops, I will make them.’

  Arkhan shook his head. ‘Time is not on our side, Raamket. Whoever is in control of the fortress is plumbing Nagash’s secrets even now. Before long, he will have the power to enslave us. No, the sooner we capture those tomes, the better off we will be.’

  Aten-heru leaned forward. In life he had been a lean man with the face of a jackal; the dried pitch had drawn back his lips into a permanent, predatory sneer. His spokesman, a short, broad-shouldered Rasetran, croaked, ‘And once we have the tomes, what then? We each take a share?’

  ‘Exactly,’ Arkhan replied. ‘Nagash is gone. We are the Lords of the Dead now. Let us divide the world between us, just as the priest-kings did for centuries in Nehekara.’

  It did not take long for Raamket to reach a decision. His faults were many, but indecisiveness was not one of them. ‘Very well. How do you propose we take the fortress?’

  ‘First, we probe the enemy along a wide front. We gauge his numbers and strength. We will focus our attacks at the main gate and along several hundred yards of wall to either side. You take your forces and attack along the wall closer to your landing site. There are three lesser gates along that length where you can put pressure on the enemy’s defences. We identify weak spots along the line, and then we attack.’