Thostos came to his side.
‘We must kill him!’ said Thostos. The desire for revenge burned coldly in his baleful eyes.
‘Do you not think I wish to slay him?’ asked Vandus. ‘Our duty lies elsewhere.’
‘Where is your desire for wrath and ruin?’ Thostos’ voice reverberated strangely behind his war-mask.
‘There is a time for vengeance. This is not it. One petty revenge can upset the chance for ten thousand greater victories. Come.’
Reluctantly, Thostos backed away from the horde.
‘This way!’ said Vandus, and pointed to a gateway barred by a portcullis. Calanax rejoined them, forcing his way through the melee. The Bloodbound of Khul would not fight him either.
‘Strange luck,’ Thostos said as Vandus remounted.
‘Let us pray it holds,’ said Vandus. Most of the warriors had backed away, going to join the fight with Thrond’s knights. A few remained, unsure. Vandus held his hammer in a guard, ready for them, but still they did not attack. More and more of them were glancing over their shoulders to the duel between Thrond and Khul.
Thostos broke the portcullis into pieces with one swing of his hammer and rushed through. Vandus came behind him on Calanax. No warrior of Khorne dared follow him.
‘The hammer is close!’ Vandus shouted. Before them was the tower of Ephryx, its side rent apart. Light blazed through cracks.
A deafening shout made him turn. Riding upon the platform of another chariot came a warrior Vandus recognised, Khul’s lieutenant, the bearer of the icon that had summoned the Realm of Chaos into Aqshy. The bloodsecrator carried his icon with him, blood boiling from Khorne’s rune in a crimson fog.
‘We sell our lives dearly, then,’ said Vandus.
Thostos snarled.
From the other side of this courtyard, daemons came capering. The two Lord-Celestants were surrounded anew.
‘I will slay you! I will cut your head free! I will spit on your corpse and dedicate your skull to Khorne,’ shouted the bloodsecrator. Spittle flew from lips bitten raw.
‘Khul has claimed my head,’ said Vandus. ‘Do you dare his wrath?’
‘Khul is weak! Sigmar is weak! Blood for the Blood God! The Lord of Skulls cares not from whence the blood flows.’ The bloodsecrator grinned savagely, exposing black teeth filed to points. ‘Do you hear that, feeble one? Your power is nothing compared to mine!’ He slammed his weapon against his heavily muscled, scarred chest and raised his icon to the clouds boiling impotently in the sky. ‘Do you hear? You are weak, Sigmar! Weak!’
In reply a mighty thunder boomed. The sky split with a bolt of blue as wide as a tower. It struck the wall, then again, opening up a fresh breach. The metal of the wall exploded. The breaches revealed the sea and the broadness of the crucible. Clouds raced around its rim, and light played there, bright and godly.
More lightning bolts slammed into the earth. The bloodsecrator and his tribesmen recoiled. From out of the light stepped a figure bearing an icon of his own, topped also with the emblems of death.
‘It is you who are weak, to fearfully sell yourself to the murder god,’ said Ionus Cryptborn.
A bolt of pure magic shot from his hammer and blasted the chariot. The metal of it withered, the draught beasts were slain, and the bloodsecrator was cast from it and lofted through the wall, where he fell flailing into the Silver Sea far below.
Light faded. All around Ionus stood a host of Stormcast Eternals.
‘Ionus! You are returned!’ said Vandus. ‘How did you manage it so quickly?’
‘I told you, my friend. Death has little hold on me,’ said Ionus.
Singing their praises to Sigmar, the Stormhosts charged.
The renewed crusade fought on, smashing daemon and mortal alike, until Vandus and Thostos forced their way through the fracture in Ephryx’s ruined tower and into the space it contained. A bizarre machine sat there, creaking and pinking as it cooled. There was the hidden keep, light burning from its riven walls.
‘Ghal Maraz…’ said Vandus breathlessly.
‘The sorcerer, Ephryx,’ said Thostos. The heat of emotion entered his voice, his deadened soul awakened by hatred.
The sorcerer had become ancient, bent with age. He hobbled as quickly as he was able from the machine, towards the iron doors of the inner keep. As he passed within, a wall of fire leapt up, encircling the keep. The sorcerer’s bodyguard moved to interpose themselves between the gates and the vengeful Stormhosts.
In the sky, the Shardgate was sinking, the infernal energies spilling from it now caressing the tower’s stump.
‘We are running out of time,’ said Vandus. But Thostos had already rushed ahead, a group of returned Celestial Vindicators at his heels, and was slaughtering his way through Ephryx’s bodyguard. Vandus went after, Calanax bowling over four of the hulking warriors.
‘Retributors, to the gates!’ ordered Vandus. Calanax forced his way through the bodyguard, Vandus smashing them to the ground with Heldensen. In short order there were no more Chaos slaves to slay. Protectors held the breach into the tower, preventing others from assailing the lords. Outside, bolts of celestial energy rained down.
‘Hurry!’ urged Vandus. The Retributors banged rhythmically on the gates with their lightning hammers. The flames crackled, the warplight racing over the vile carvings that covered their surfaces. The fire went out and the warriors attacked. The gates shook with each impact, but did not shift. The Shardgate continued its descent.
There came a louder bang, and the gate shuddered differently, shifting on its mountings. A wide crack sprang across it. Blue light shone out and the Retributors called out joyously. They struck harder, until another crack, then another, crazed the surface of the door.
Together with the light came the sound of chanting, words so evil they crashed around his skull. Vandus fought against the pain though blood ran from his ears.
With one last impact, the doors burst inward in a storm of iron shards. Vandus and Thostos ran in, drawing sustenance from the holy light that bathed the chamber.
The whole of the inner keep was one large, domed chamber with but two apertures: the gate, and a slit window glazed with amethyst in the eastern wall. A rubble of lead bricks was scattered across the ground. Above it, chained by blood iron and bonds of pure magic, floated Ghal Maraz, Sigmar’s own hammer, and relic of the world-that-was.
A coven of nine daemons sought to take it for their master, and it was from them that the chanting came. They turned one by one to glare at the Stormcast Eternals, wizened faces full of hatred and amusement, knowing faces that carelessly harboured the wisdom of ages. There were eight of lesser order, great in their own right, but not so powerful as the ninth, a two-headed horror, taller than the rest and shrouded in dark majesty.
‘You cannot stop what has become. The end is in sight! Come in, come in! All are welcome in the Crystal Labyrinth of my master,’ cawed the two-headed greater daemon.
The Eldritch Fortress lurched, sending the Stormcast Eternals staggering. Slowly, it began to rise towards the Shardgate.
‘Get the hammer!’ yelled Vandus. ‘Bring them down!’
The Stormcasts charged. The greater daemons came down to do battle, and all the while Kairos laughed.
Vandus hurled himself at a Lord of Change. To his left, five of his warriors were cut down by a bolt of dark fire. Others exploded, disappeared or were transformed. The air wavered and the scene changed. Vandus staggered, finding himself in a quiet forest. He spun about, looking for his foe. A sudden coldness gripped his legs, but when he looked he could see nothing amiss. ‘Do not trust your senses,’ he said to himself. ‘They cannot help you. Trust Sigmar.’
He shut his eyes, letting the vision-fugue come down on him. In his mind’s eye the interior of the chamber overlaid itself upon the forest. The room was ablaze with magic. Some of his warriors
staggered about, as lost as he. Only the Celestial Vindicators seemed unaffected, and in his state of altered perception, Vandus could see how the fury in them burned hot enough to sear away the magic set against them. A bird-headed daemon shrieked as enchanted blades cut into it and laid it low.
His own opponent stared at him with dead eyes, its hand waving up and down slowly. Cruel humour was writ upon its features.
It does not know I can see it, thought Vandus. With a great effort of will, he called upon his distant body to obey him. With a mighty heave, he swung Heldensen. His limbs felt feeble, as if they moved underwater. Heldensen sped true, smashing the daemon in the face. Its head snapped back and, with a blast of warplight, it fell dead upon the floor.
The glamour was lifted by the daemon’s expulsion, and Calanax pressed forward towards the hammer. The Shardgate was forcing its way through the domed ceiling, still descending as the fortress rose up. Chunks of masonry fell down, and the whole keep rumbled.
‘Thostos, the hammer!’ called Vandus. Calanax pushed onwards, fighting through a swarm of leaping daemons that twisted into being from jets of fire projected by a Lord of Change.
‘The chains!’ shouted Thostos back.
Vandus nodded in acknowledgement. He stood up in Calanax’s saddle, swinging his hammer at the first of Ghal Maraz’s restraints. Several links burst. Fizzling magic, they fell away. Thostos cleaved through one, then two, with his runeblade. Vandus rode swiftly to the next, then the next.
‘You cannot triumph! This hammer belongs to Tzeentch!’ crowed Kairos.
The greater daemon stalked across the floor and levelled his staff at Thostos. From the top of the rod spouted a gout of magical fire. When it touched the Celestial Vindicator, his magic aura seemed to transmute his flesh into pure sigmarite, but the fire burned hotter and hotter, and Thostos’ body began to run. With heroic effort, Thostos cut through another chain, one of pure light that vanished as Thostos’ sword passed through it. Stormcasts ran to Thostos’ aid, but Kairos sent them sprawling with a thought, and the Lord-Celestant remained trapped in the searing fire.
Vandus rode to the next chain and shattered it. The noise attracted the attention of Kairos’ left head.
‘Ah, ah, I think not,’ said the Lord of Change.
‘It thinks it can outthink me!’ said the other head.
‘Kairos Fateweaver!’ said the first head. He advanced on Vandus. The fire winked out and Thostos fell to the side.
‘The Great Oracle, to whom no secret of past…’ said the first head.
‘…or future…’ said the other.
‘…is any kind of secret at all,’ they said together.
The end of his staff glowed with awful light.
‘Now,’ said the heads together, ‘let us change you into something fitting–’
A bolt of light streaked from the side of the room, catching the Lord of Change on the arm. Kairos’ heads snapped round, and Ionus Cryptborn sent another blast at the daemon.
In the corner of the room, Ephryx blinked. The green light went from his eyes as Kairos’ control of Ephryx was shattered, his master embroiled in a magical duel with the skull-faced warrior.
‘Kairos,’ he said. His aged voice was a dry whisper. The sorcerer bent painfully to the floor and took up a fallen staff of change. Its violent energies coursed through him, warping his flesh and soul, but he hobbled forward toward his treacherous master. The Shardgate, the hammer, the invasion – all had become of no consequence. He was consumed by his hatred of Kairos.
Raising the staff in palsied hands, Ephryx swung at Kairos’ back. The head of the staff barely scratched the daemon’s skin, but it was enough.
Kairos flung back his head and screeched from both mouths. Rippling energy engulfed him. His physical form sped through a dozen transmutations: a tusked skyray, a moonfaced puppet jerking in multicoloured flame, a pink-skinned lesser daemon, a statue of coal and a chirring song bird.
Ephryx sank to his knees, all his strength gone.
‘You didn’t see that coming did you, you preening peacock.’
‘Vandus, the hammer!’ said Thostos, his voice a gurgle.
Vandus stood upon Calanax’s back and launched himself at Ghal Maraz. He flew through the air, hand outstretched. A Lord of Change reached out for him, only to be blasted back by a bolt of lightning from Calanax. A second fell to a magical attack from Ionus. Time slowed to a crawl. A thousand futures depended on this moment.
Vandus’ fingers closed upon the gleaming haft of the hammer. The last chain fell away, and it came free. His mind flooded with memories that were not his own, images from times and places far away, and a world long gone. Then he was falling and rolling. He came up easily, and he held the power of a god in one hand.
Kairos Fateweaver leaned over him, the last effects of his transformations flickering over his faces as he regained control of his form.
The daemon lifted a hand and a glow of power formed around it. ‘I do not think that is yours,’ he said.
‘Nor is it yours,’ said Vandus.
Before he had even formed the intent to move, Ghal Maraz streaked forward with the power of a comet. Vandus was only the means to the end. The weapon used him to exert its will.
Ghal Maraz smashed into Kairos’ shoulder, sending the arm spinning free in a spray of mashed flesh and daemonic ichor. Kairos shrieked, twin screams from both mouths.
The hammer arced round, dragging Vandus’ hand with it. It powered into Kairos’ left head, caving in his skull and sending it crashing into the right. Kairos toppled forward cawing in pain. Vandus stepped back, and the hammer swung up and down, crushing one head into a bloody paste upon the floor, then the second.
Kairos’ body convulsed, making a scream-like a whistle. He juddered, vibrating so quickly his outline was a blur. He convulsed, inwards, outwards, then with a sorry pop he transformed into a smoky crystal.
Vandus brought his boot heel down hard on the gem, crushing it to glittering powder. The Shardgate was now only feet above Vandus’ head. He held Ghal Maraz up in defiance.
‘See this, Great Changer! This is Ghal Maraz, Sigmar’s weapon of old! It is in my hand, and shall soon be in the hand of the God-King. Fear it, for as it slew your servant, so one day shall it slay you!’
Lightning burst from the hammer. Wherever it landed, it struck down a servant of Chaos. The roof of the keep was flying apart, the tower coming to pieces around it. The fabric of the Eldritch Fortress was rooted in the power of the hammer, and now that Ghal Maraz was free, it disintegrated, the pieces flying upwards into the Shardgate where they exploded into showers of silver sparks. The skulls around the walls burst. A furious howl raged from the Shardgate, sending the incarnate Stormcasts reeling. It went on and on, then changed pitch, becoming wild laughter.
The Shardgate winked out. An echo of the laughter remained, and for a moment the bare floor of the keep hung in the air over the site of the Eldritch Fortress. Ionus, Thostos and two dozen more Stormhosts stood upon a mosaic that depicted Sigmar in his glory, the last remnant of Elixia’s Great Monument. The sorcerer Ephryx lay dead upon the God-King’s face. Then the floor tilted and dropped towards the naked summit of the island, coming apart as it fell. Upon the bare stone its fragments shattered, scattering the Stormhosts all about into the ranks of their brethren. Of their foes there was no sign. All were gone, taken up by the Shardgate.
Vandus lay sprawled upon his back, looking upwards. The Alchemist’s Moon had resumed its true course, and as it passed overhead, a new light was revealed. A brilliant, pure radiance that banished every scrap of shadow from the island. A twin-tailed comet burned across the heavens.
Vandus held aloft the god-hammer, saluting the arrival of the Sigmarabulus. A great peal of thunder split the sky.
The Stormhosts fell to their knees, and were surrounded by a blaze of light.
&n
bsp; Ghal Maraz was reunited with its master, and the war began in earnest.
About the Authors
Josh Reynolds is the author of the Blood Angels novel Deathstorm and the Warhammer 40,000 novellas Hunter’s Snare and Dante’s Canyon, along with the audio drama Master of the Hunt, all three featuring the White Scars. In the Warhammer World, he has written the End Times novels The Return of Nagash and The Lord of the End Times, the Gotrek & Felix tales Charnel Congress, Road of Skulls and The Serpent Queen, and the novels Neferata, Master of Death and Knight of the Blazing Sun. He lives and works in Northampton.
Guy Haley is the author of Space Marine Battles: Death of Integrity, the Warhammer 40,000 novels Valedor and Baneblade, and the novellas The Eternal Crusader, The Last Days of Ector and Broken Sword, for Damocles. His enthusiasm for all things greenskin has also led him to pen the eponymous Warhammer novel Skarsnik, as well as the End Times novel The Rise of the Horned Rat. He lives in Yorkshire with his wife and son.
An extract from The Gates of Azyr.
Vandus, they called him.
It was a name of omen, one that carried the favour of the Golden City. He would be the first, they said. None would set foot in the Mortal Realms ahead of him, though the bringers of vengeance would be close behind. For a long time he had not understood what they meant, for they had had to school him as a child, teaching him to remember what he had once known by instinct.
Now, with the passing of aeons, he understood. The empty years were coming to a close, and the designs of the God-King were at last reaching ripeness. He was the instrument, just one of the limitless host, but the brightest star amid the constellations of salvaged glory.
For so long now, it had just been Azyr, and all else was lost in the fog of time.
But there had been other worlds. Now, very soon, there would be so again.
They were gazing up at him – ten thousand, arrayed in gold and cobalt and ranked in the shining orders of battle. The walls around them soared like cliffs, each one gilt, reflective and marked with the sigils of the Reforged.
Ghal Maraz Page 20
