Age of Sigmar: Omnibus

Ephryx licked his lips. There were a lot of Maerac’s men below. They all had manticores. In the Shattered City, ten thousand campfires burned. There, the bondsmen of Maerac’s followers waited. For a fleeting instant the sorcerer worried he may have miscalculated.

‘Defend this tower, and you defend your own kingdoms,’ said Ephryx.

‘Rubbish!’ shouted a minor count, far beneath Ephryx’s disdain and as thin as he was unimportant.

Maerac sneered. ‘Look at him. He has some scheme. I do not think he lies directly to us, although he will be lying about something. Tell us, Ephryx, the Ninth Disciple of the Ninth Tower, what have you hidden in this fortress? Why is it so imperative that we defend you, when we should look to our own in the face of this threat?’

Ephryx’s warped face split in an apologetic smile. He pressed his hands together. ‘The artefact is none other than Ghal Maraz! The hammer of Sigmar Heldenhammer himself.’

The nobles went quiet. They looked askance at one another. Now they appraised each other, and not Ephryx alone, each one evaluating his chances of seizing the weapon for himself.

That was more like it.

‘You had the Great Shatterer in your possession all this time, sorcerer, and you told no one?’

Ephryx shrugged. ‘The people who dwelt in this city before me raised a great monument over it. It was the talk of the realm. You did not know of it. Sigmar did not know of it. I knew of it. Why do you think this is, Maerac?’

Maerac scowled but held his tongue.

‘It is because the Great Changer desired me to have it, and removed it from the eyes and memories of other men,’ Ephryx said, smiling condescendingly. ‘Forgive me that I have not told you, but do you not see? Had this artefact fallen into the wrong hands then these valleys would have a different set of lords. I was entrusted with it. So you see, from me your power flows.’

Maerac stared hard at Ephryx. It was clear he felt Ephryx’s hands to be the wrong ones.

‘Protect me and you are doing not my will, but Great Lord Tzeentch’s will.’ Ephryx pointed a long finger upwards. ‘Tzeentch demands its safety.’

‘Why has he not claimed it for himself? He has had ample opportunity!’ shouted the Baron of the Floating Marches.

‘The Twisted God is untrustworthy. Perhaps he desires it to fall into Sigmar’s hand,’ yelled the Yellow Duke, a pompous little fat man with an over-fed mount. He fancied himself a wizard, and Ephryx loathed him. He did, however, have a point; second-guessing Tzeentch was impossible. Any plan was plausible.

‘Whatever our god’s plans, they are unknowable to us. We need to focus on certainties, my friends. If Sigmar’s hand closes about the haft of Ghal Maraz, then it will be used against all of you! Our land plays host to the Silverway, the duardin roadway between all realms. If he intends to storm each of the eight realms, the Silverway will be of great importance to him. How long do you think your fiefdoms will stand? The servants of the man-god must be halted before these walls, or your days of power are numbered.’

Murmurs of assent rippled over the gathering. Better still.

‘We tried for the Silverway last week and they cast us back. Even now they fortify it against us,’ said Kergoth.

‘There are more of them coming every day via the Bright Tor Gate. It is reopened and in their hands,’ said the Indigo Quester. ‘They rebuild the forts there, and have taken the road from the valley.’

‘Do you see? By your own words have you made prophecy!’ shouted Ephryx.

‘This fortress is breached and it will not stand long. I say we look to our own,’ said another. ‘This fool’s day is done.’

‘We will fight and die for nothing. Every day the numbers of the Stormcasts grow by the thousand. They do not attack, they prepare! How many will there be?’ said the Yellow Duke. He had a buttery, jeering voice.

Ephryx raised his hands to quell the rising debate. ‘Fear not, I have a plan. One that will save this fortress, and bring Tzeentch’s boon to us all!’

Furious shouting erupted, mostly in his favour.

If only they knew what I intend, thought Ephryx, and it was all he could do to stop himself from laughing.

Kairos waved the image away irritably. Ephryx’s plan had some merit, but that was chiefly because it was Kairos’ plan. The eyes of one head slid shut as he peered into the future. What he saw there made him shake his head.

‘What do I see?’ asked his past-seeing head, which had no faculty of foresight.

The other head whispered, its eyes still closed. ‘Ephryx will succeed in removing himself, but his persecutors will not rest. More time is needed. More time! The pursuit cannot be halted, but it can be delayed.’

‘I must be rid of Ephryx.’

‘I shall.’

‘Favours must be called in.’

‘I shall remind those that owe them of their debt,’ soothed the other head.

Kairos opened his eyes. The warpflame flickered. The image of Ephryx whirled away and became a view of a desolate fane.

‘My guest will be here soon,’ said the past-seeing head.