WH-Warhammer Online-Age of Reckoning 03(R)-Forged by Chaos

by C. L. Werner

  ‘But first we must gain the Bastion Stair,’ interrupted Kormak. He gestured with his axe at the now distant shapes of the elves and their allies, dwarfed to the size of ants by their approach to the colossal stair.

  ‘There is another way,’ Jodis said. The woman motioned for her companions to follow her through the rocks. They stole through the jumble of broken stones for several minutes. When they reached a point from which they could see the Stair once more, they saw it from a new angle. Invisible from the front of the Stair was a smaller stairway, a man-sized construction that zigzagged its way into a great archway set into the side of the bottom-most step.

  ‘Another way in?’ Urbaal asked.

  Jodis nodded her head. ‘This is how my warband entered the Stair,’ she said. ‘It is invisible unless one knows where to look for it. While our enemies scale the front of the Stair to gain entrance, you can avoid them by entering from the side.’

  Urbaal nodded. ‘A good plan,’ he agreed. ‘We can leave the elves and the orcs behind. That will leave us only the daemons of the Stair to face.’

  ‘And the Bloodherd,’ Jodis warned. ‘Do not forget about them. I doubt you will be able to leave the first step while Thar’Ignan lives. And do not think all of the Blood God’s slaves are daemons. Before the Bloodherd turned upon us, we fought many black-armoured warriors of the Skulltaker tribe. I suspect they have their stronghold higher upon the Stair.’

  ‘You speak as one who is staying behind,’ challenged Kormak.

  Jodis gave the big marauder an amused smile. ‘When you fail, Tchar’zanek will send others. I will stay here to show them the way.’

  Urbaal pressed his hand against the marauder’s chest as Kormak bristled under the snide words. The Chosen turned and glared at Jodis. ‘Stay behind, Wolfscar,’ his voice growled. ‘When we return in triumph, you will have cause to regret your cowardice.’

  The Chosen drew his sword, its steel burning with coruscating flames, sending weird shadows dancing among the rocks. The eyes of Urbaal burned no less fiercely as he regarded Jodis Wolfscar.

  ‘I promise you will regret it.’

  The front of the first step was a great table of bronze edged in leering metal faces. Situated in the mouth of the largest of these, a horned daemon skull fifty yards across set into the back of the step, was a great doorway. A hellish glow smouldered within the opening, casting its gruesome pall over the entire plateau. Even the orcs seemed finally overcome by the sinister aspect of this place, some of them casting furtive looks at the flanking stairways descending back to the fields of scarlet snow, others swatting the nearest goblins in an effort to ease their nerves.

  Gorgut swaggered through his men. He grunted and scratched his nose, then hawked a blob of spit against the bronze wall, watching it sizzle against the metal. At length, he turned and directed a suspicious squint towards the black ranks of the dark elves.

  ‘You certain there’s magic in there?’ he demanded, staring at Pyra.

  ‘Ask your shaman if you don’t believe me,’ the sorceress answered with a dismissive flick of her hand.

  The black orc nodded, turning to glare at Snikkit. ‘What about it? You smell any magic in there?’

  Snikkit’s eyes had grown round as saucers, his hood was damp with perspiration. There was a rancid stench of fear rising from his grimy robes. It was almost on his tongue to lie to the warlord, but Snikkit knew however bad things might get inside, he couldn’t imagine it being much worse than what Gorgut would do to him if he thought the goblin was lying. In a frightened whisper, the shaman croaked his answer. ‘Yeah, boss, there’s all kinds of nasty stuff in there! You shouldn’t touch none of it!’

  Gorgut bellowed with laughter, his grim humour soon spreading to the other orcs. ‘Just like a grot! Scared of his own shadow.’ The warlord’s meaty paw smacked against his breastplate. ‘I ain’t afraid. There’s magic in there, then I’m going to get it. I’ll go back to the Badlands the biggest thing since Ironfang!’ He turned around to bark at his mob, shifting his gaze from each orc and goblin in the warband. ‘We’re going in there! If it moves, stab it until it stops moving! If it doesn’t move, keep your grubby paws off it until Snikkit checks it out! Any git trying to sneak off with anything magic is going to be sorry!’ Gorgut patted the ugly axe slung over his shoulder. ‘But he ain’t going to be sorry long.’

  ‘Mighty Gorgut,’ interrupted Pyra. She stepped forward from the ranks of her warriors, still leaning slightly on her staff. It was a ruse to make the greenskins think she was still weak. She wasn’t sure if the deception would fool their shaman, but the crude little creature did not seem overly bright. She knew as long as the orcs considered the druchii to be unworthy of their attention they were reasonably safe from the monsters. That would be of great benefit once the time came to deal with the brutes once and for all. For now, Pyra allowed a mocking air of deference into her posture and voice.

  ‘You agreed that we should share in the spoils,’ she said. ‘I promise that we will ask very little of your indulgence.’

  ‘Ask all you want, fairy-lady,’ Gorgut laughed. The black orc was still chuckling at his joke as he organised his motley troops.

  ‘How long will you put up with that animal?’ Naagan asked as Pyra stole back to the ranks of her troops.

  ‘Until I don’t need him,’ the sorceress answered. She turned back to study the black orc. Gorgut was conferring with his equally ugly lieutenant and a nasty little goblin she had seen the warlord use as a scout before. Gorgut appeared to be explaining some complex matter to the goblin. Whatever it was, the goblin was clearly upset by what he was hearing. The lieutenant finally tired of the scout’s protests and wrapped his paws about the little creature’s scrawny neck, lifting him from the ground and shaking him like a rag doll. When he set the goblin back down, he seemed much more agreeable to whatever was being asked of him. Soon, the goblin was snapping commands to the grotesque two-legged hunting animals the orcs kept. The manic beasts jabbered and slobbered, then with erratic leaps hurried off through the doorway like a demented herd of mountain goats. A last anxious look at his warlord, and the goblin hunter was hurrying after his beasts.

  ‘Beblieth,’ Pyra called from the corner of her mouth. The witch elf was quickly at her side. ‘Our friend has sent his scout on some sort of mission. Follow the goblin. Watch the creature. I don’t want any surprises. Not from a pack of dumb animals.’

  Within the Bastion Stair, Pyra discovered wide corridors with narrow ceilings that vanished into the black murk far overhead. The walls were of bronze and steel, everywhere adorned with skeletal gargoyles of brass and spikes of iron. Chains and hooks and cages of every description hung from the unseen ceiling, swaying in time to some unfelt breeze. The air was hot, like cinders as it was drawn into the lungs, and it reeked of blood. The rattle of metal pounding against metal, the grinding of steel against steel, the roar of molten iron rushing through a forge, these were the sounds that thundered through the halls, almost deafening in their violence.

  The Bastion Stair, gateway to the very throne of the Blood God. Pyra felt another tremor of fear shiver through her. Again she wondered at the madness of pursuing Dolchir into this place. Perhaps Inhin had been right, perhaps all that she would find here was death. But was there anything else waiting for her in Naggaroth? She had promised this prize to both Malekith and Lord Uthorin. To fail to deliver the Spear and Tchar’zanek’s Raven Host to one of them would end in nothing less than a brutal, slow death.

  ‘It seems the animals have found something,’ Naagan told her, a trace of amusement in his voice. Pyra wondered how much of her inner thoughts the disciple had guessed. The priests had weird powers, powers even those schooled in the Convent did not understand. She would not put mind reading beyond them.

  Pyra smoothed her thoughts and looked past the cadaverous Naagan. The greenskins had foolishly allowed the dark elves to form ranks behind their own, stupidly ignoring the menace of three dozen crossbows at their ba
cks. It would be disgustingly easy when the time came to dispose of them. For now, however, Pyra was more interested in the antics of the greenskins ahead of her in the hall. They had stopped before a huge doorway bordered in skulls. The brutes were slowly barging through the door, into whatever chamber lay beyond.

  The sorceress listened intently for a few moments, but could not detect any sound of battle beyond the usual noise of goblins bickering. ‘We should see what they found,’ Pyra decided, motioning for her warriors to follow her forwards. The druchii warriors formed a double column and marched to the side of their allies.

  The room the orcs had discovered was enormous. Pyra might almost have described it as palatial if not for the overall horror of the place. Red walls surrounded them, fiery runes of Khorne burning in their faces. A broad flight of steps climbed up to a level landing surrounded on two sides by iron stakes, each stake spitted with dozens of fresh skulls. Blood and hair still dripped from many of the gruesome trophies, forming gory pools on the gravel floor. In each wall of the landing, the immense skull of a giant leered, its brow gashed with the skull-rune, angry fires burning in each socket. Below the broken jaw of each gigantic skull was an archway, but whatever lay beyond the arches was lost in a swirling mass of crimson mist.

  Behind the landing, a second flight of steps swept upwards from either side, forming separate landings before converging upon still another tier set high upon the rear wall of the chamber. Here, the carved face of a mammoth daemon grinned, the fangs of its lower jaw forming the opening of yet another doorway. Below this upper tier, suspended from the ceiling, was a great cauldron of steel and bronze, its surface marked with the arrows of Chaos. Hanging from great chains, the cauldron vomited an endless stream of molten slag, the fiery metal pouring into a great basin that never seemed to fill. Scattered braziers fought with the infernal forge to light the enormous hall, but it was the eerie glow of the walls themselves that lent everything its ruddy hue.

  The orcs were already climbing the stairs, pushing goblins ahead of them. Pyra could hear Gorgut’s savage voice raised in barks of command. He seemed to be urging the orcs up to the middle tier of steps. More worrying was the way he also seemed to be encouraging his mob to make as much noise as possible.

  ‘What are those animals up to?’ Naagan wondered.

  Pyra’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. She looked around for any sign of the sneaky goblin scout or Beblieth, but could see neither. Just how clever was this animal?

  ‘We should close the distance with our friends,’ Pyra said, keeping any hint of alarm from her tone.

  ‘I thought the idea was to let the animals take all the risks?’ Naagan protested. ‘Let them do all the fighting for us.’

  ‘Maybe he has the same idea,’ Pyra snapped at the disciple.

  All at once, from the mouths of the archways, a braying, snorting horde erupted into the chamber. Ugly, twisted creatures, their fur hanging from them in dripping mats, their fangs and claws dark with blood, they came in their dozens. Some were wiry and nearly furless, their manlike heads sporting stumpy horns, their feet warped into cloven hooves. Others were utterly inhuman things, capering upon four legs like beasts of the field. Many had the heads of oxen and goats, their huge horns painted with gore, their bestial faces scarred with the skull-rune. One and all, the brutes bore an array of clubs and axes, spears and flails in their hairy hands. Somewhere within the maddening discord of their bleats and howls was a suggestion of feral intelligence and ancient hate.

  Pyra did not know if the beastmen had been drawn by the racket of the orcs or if they had simply followed their scent. All she did know was that battle had descended upon her ragged force, a battle she was unprepared for. Quickly she snapped orders to her warriors. The dark elves formed a circle upon the first landing, facing the enemies converging upon them from either side. The front ranks held spears, the rear ranks their crossbows. It was a tactic of supporting arms that had served the druchii well in their conquests. So long as their ammunition held out.

  The beastmen came, roaring and raging. The foremost seemed to fling themselves upon the druchii spears, as though eager to die upon them and in their death rip the weapons from their foes. If such was the thought, then the monsters had not reasoned with the keenness of Naggaroth steel. The dark elves simply twisted the blades in the meat of their dying enemies, then dragged the spears from the ruptured flesh. The ranks behind them loosed bolts into the oncoming herd, the repeating weapons taking a butcher’s toll. Soon the landing was littered with dead and crippled beasts, their ugly heads raised in cries of agony and fury. Still the others came, crushing their own fallen beneath their hooves, oblivious to all except the destruction of their adversaries.

  From the centre of her ring of warriors, Pyra unleashed her magic. A ram-headed monster wearing strips of chainmail over its crimson fur whinnied in terror as its eyes became chips of ice. The spell spread swiftly, freezing the horror on its face, stiffening its arms into frosty lumps. The frozen monster tottered and lost balance, shattering into chunks of dripping meat as it crashed against the floor. The sorceress selected a hulking thing with the face of a pig that rushed through the wreckage of her first victim. The beastman scarcely had time to feel the pain as its body exploded in a burst of raw dark magic.

  Pyra lifted her gaze, watching the orcs as they fought their own horde of beastmen high overhead on the left-hand segment of the second tier. There was little in the way of tactics in the orc’s behaviour. The brutes just charged into the biggest beastmen they could find, chopping and slashing at them until they were dead. Here and there, a goblin poked its head between the legs of the orcs to stab a beastman in the groin with a spear or to send a poisoned arrow speeding across the hall. For all the crudity of their tactics, the orcs were in a more defensible position than the dark elves, forcing the beastmen to either rush them from below or charge at them from above. Either way, their enemies were caught upon the uneven surface of the stairs. Many lost their footing as their hooves slipped on the blood-slick steps. The goblins were quick to bring their weapons slashing into the necks of these defenceless foes.

  The sorceress still could not shake the terrible suspicion that Gorgut had planned for this, somehow. She was convinced the black orc was up to something. She smiled grimly. Whatever he was about, it was unlikely the rest of his mob would stick to the plan once he was gone. Pyra studied the packed mass of orcs, looking for the dark-skinned bulk of their warlord. One spell, and she would no longer need to worry about Gorgut Foechewer.

  Pyra had just sighted Gorgut when a deathshriek broke her concentration. One of her warriors was flung into her, almost knocking her to the floor. The warrior had been savagely gored, his throat flopping hideously from the rent in his neck. Pyra glared at the mass of beasts now pressing hard against the line of her defenders. She could see their leader, a towering monster covered in dark fur, its head that of a goat, knobbly horns framing his face. It wore the ripped remains of human armour tied across its broad chest and in its paw was a huge flanged mace studded with spikes. As she glared at the monster, she saw it tilt its head back and give voice to a piercing howl. In response to its cry, dozens of beastmen poured from the archways, rushing to join the battle.

  The sorceress sneered at the champion. The spell she had been shaping to deal death to Gorgut she now unleashed upon the beastman. Her smile died when she saw her magic evaporate as it struck the monster. The harsh skull-rune glowed hatefully from the champion’s breastplate as it absorbed her magic. The beastman’s dull black eyes gleamed back at her and there seemed a note of amusement in its tone as it howled for more monsters to join the battle.

  ‘We cannot stand!’ Naagan gasped. The disciple was frantically trying to employ his magic to heal the hurts of the warriors, but he could not keep up with the horrifying turn the battle had taken.

  Pyra looked again at the greenskins. Any hope that the monsters might be drawn down to support the druchii was dashed. Instead of fighting
their way down, the orcs were resolutely butchering their way up to the top tier. It was no simple turn of battle that made them turn that way, of such she was certain.

  Any question was removed when she saw something leap through the archway behind her. It was one of the fang-faced squigs and quickly a second followed it. Clinging to the horns of a third was the goblin scout himself. The squigs hopped and leaped through the raging mass of beastmen, biting at the monsters then jumping away again before the savage brutes could retaliate. Pyra watched with grim fascination as the squigs swiftly crossed the hall and bounded up the stairs, joining Gorgut’s mob just as the orcs cleared a path to the top landing.

  Gorgut quickly decapitated the beastman he was facing, shoving the brute’s body into the fiery cauldron with one hand while pushing one of his orcs to take his spot with the other. The warlord bent and listened as Zagbob made a hurried report to his chieftain. A wicked grin split the orc’s face. Cupping one meaty hand to his mouth, the orc turned and bellowed down to Pyra.

  ‘Oi! Fairy-lady!’ Gorgut barked. ‘Now let’s see how you lot can fight!’

  Pyra did not have time to wonder at the meaning of the orc’s bellow. The entire hall shook as something enormous crashed against the right archway, the archway from which the squigs had reappeared. Even the beastmen turned about in fear as the chamber shook again.

  ‘Mercy, Lord Khaine!’ Naagan cried as the wall exploded into a twisted mass of torn metal and shattered bone.

  As she saw the huge shape lumber through the rent in the wall, Pyra felt the urge to pray too. Blasphemously, she wondered if even Khaine could protect her from the thing that now reared its misshapen head and trumpeted its fury until even the ears of the gods must ring with its feral malevolence.