Age of Sigmar: Omnibus

Rhulmok’s brow darkened, but his grip on his temper was more secure than the runemaster’s. ‘I did not say that. Nor did I mean it.’

‘No one questions our valour and might,’ Dorvurn intervened. ‘It is true that we do not know if the other lodge still exists. It matters not.’ He rose from his seat. ‘What matters is the oath. We made it, and we shall not break it. A great storm has come, an omen of tribulations for the Fyreslayers. The anvil of the Great Weld is struck. And Runemaster Thrumnor has a vision of our unstoppable sweep over our enemies.’ He raised his voice, and he raised his grandaxe. ‘Grimnir summons us to war, brothers! And we shall answer! We march!’

III

‘The youngflame is unhappy,’ Rhulmok said.

He and Thrumnor stood a few paces away from where Dorvurn and Homnir spoke, surrounded by the other runesons. They were assembled on an enormous ledge, as big as a plateau, two-thirds of the way down the Forgecrag. Behind them were the main gates of the Krelstrag magmahold. The heavy iron doors were open, and in the great hall behind them, the massed ranks of the Krelstrag fyrds waited for the order to march. The thousands of vulkite berzerkers were a sea of red hair and beards. Thrumnor looked at them and saw the lava flood of his vision on the verge of being unleashed.

‘And what about his fellow youngflame?’ Thrumnor asked. ‘Is he reconciled to our quest?’ His question was serious. He wanted to know Rhulmok’s mind. It was important they were working well together again as they began the journey. How long would it be until they reached the other lodge? Weeks? Months? The lodge needed them, and it needed them acting as brothers. So he phrased his serious question using the frequent joke between them. Rhulmok was no youngflame. There were mountains younger than he. But Thrumnor was more ancient yet, and he still pretended to look upon the runesmiter as a youth.

He was glad when Rhulmok smiled. ‘This beardling has his concerns, but he will follow where the runefather leads, and be glad to do it.’ He turned serious. ‘And an oath is an oath.’ He looked out over the ocean, in the direction they were to take. The smaller volcanic islands blocked sight of the Great Weld, but the silver flashes of the greater storm were still visible.

‘The oath applies to us all,’ Homnir was arguing. ‘I too must fulfil it. How can I if I stay?’

‘You will fulfil your duty to the oath by staying,’ Dorvurn said. ‘I believe the runemaster is correct in his reading of the portents, but Rhulmok too is right: we cannot leave the magmahold undefended. You will defend our home, Homnir, and you will hold it against all enemies.’

‘If someone must stay, why not Forvuld?’

As the eldest, Forvuld’s hope to succeed Dorvurn as runefather was arguably the strongest.

‘Because you have much to prove,’ Dorvurn said. ‘You will perform the miraculous to protect the hearth.’

To his right, Forvuld nodded, showing his confidence in his younger brother.

Homnir bowed his head in acquiescence.

‘Your father is grateful,’ Dorvurn said. ‘And your runefather is grateful. Gather the people in the Forgecrag in our wake. The bridges will be dangerous until our return.’

‘I will, runefather.’

Homnir walked toward the edge of the plateau, so he would not be in the way of the departing army. Dorvurn went forward to where Karmanax, his magmadroth, clawed at the ground, impatient to be away. Dorvurn climbed into the saddle and stood tall.

‘Fyreslayers of the Krelstrag!’ His voice boomed over the eternal rumble and liquid roar of the Earthwound ocean. ‘To the Great Weld and beyond! On this day, we begin the fulfilment of an oath made an age ago. On this day, we march toward the manifestation of prophecy! For Grimnir!’

‘For Grimnir!’ the great host of the Krelstrag answered.

Dorvurn looked at Thrumnor and Rhulmok. ‘Runemaster,’ he said. ‘Runesmiter. Pave our way.’

Thrumnor made a fist and struck his left shoulder in salute. Rhulmok did the same, and mounted his own magmadroth, Grognax. Thrumnor moved to the magmadroth’s side. With the crunch of thousands of feet against stone, the march began.

The journey through the Earthwound archipelago was a long one. It took many days just to move beyond the Krelstrag domains. Thrumnor and Rhulmok worked in unison, creating bridge after bridge. There came a moment, seven days into the march, when the distance between the volcanic cone on which the army mustered and the next peak to rise above the ocean of lava was so great that Thrumnor wondered if he and the runesmiter could span it. Span it they did, though, and the bridge appeared as thin as spun gold as it stretched across the seething, restless inferno. The bridge was strong, and it carried the host. In the end it was the island they had left that sank first, taking the bridge down after they had already begun construction of the next one.