Age of Sigmar: Omnibus

‘Then please, as my friend and adviser, tell me what has occurred? We are promised eternity to bring war upon the minions of the Four, but I did not expect it to take this course. I see it in others too, many of my own. Andricus and Laudus are reluctant to discuss it with me.’

‘It is simple, Lord-Celestant. Your warriors have died and returned. Their alteration is inevitable.’

The Lord-Relictor carried a heavy reliquary: the bones of a hero from the Age of Myth in an open casket upon a staff. The casket was surmounted by a starburst of gold, and many other fittings of metal besides. It was heavy, but Ionus carried it as if it were nothing, and easily kept pace with Calanax’s swaying stride.

‘How is this inevitable?’

‘Death is a constant. It wraps everything, binding all fate as tight as a funeral shroud. One day, all this will die. Sigmar will die, you and I will die, the Four will die. We are eternal, yes, but even eternity is not without end. When all else is dead, then death will be the last to die. Sigmar defies death with his magic, plucking us from the underworlds and reforging our mortal form. Death is jealous. When our warriors skirt the borders of that dark country, a part of them is stolen away.’

‘None can defy Sigmar,’ said Vandus.

‘Death can, Vandus. Death only seeks to take its due. Sigmar is the thief in this affair, not death,’ said Ionus. ‘And so death snatches at our spirits, and we return to this life a little diminished as we pass him by. The shortfall has to be made up somehow.’

‘With what?’

Ionus shrugged. ‘Sigmar is the lord of the storm — I serve him but I am of death’s realm. You ask me of death, and are right to do so, for I guard the souls of our comrades. But to know the secrets of the storm, one must ask the lord of storms. And I do not think he will give up his knowledge.’

Vandus blew out a breath.

‘There is something else on your mind, Hammerhand?’

‘Yes, there is more. I have been troubled by sights of things to come. Visions. I am unsure of them. Are they part of the God-King’s gift, or have I too been changed?’

‘You have not died. You remain as you were.’

‘Nevertheless, I was stolen from under death’s nose, and I was exposed to the fell energies of the Gate of Wrath. The unlight of Chaos touched me, Ionus. Have I become impure?’

‘Your visions are nothing to be afraid of. Or they might be. How will you know unless you act upon them? This is an age of wonder. Should your visions lead you falsely, pay them no heed and we shall discuss them further. We are fortunate in being able to suffer the worst lapses in judgement yet live to learn from them.’

‘Are you not afraid of what might happen to us when we die and return?’

‘Death cannot change me, because I already belong to death. Why would death try to take what it already owns? And if I should fall and become as Thostos after my remaking, then what of it? It will be only for a while. Death is a transition. To change is not only the purview of Chaos, but a necessary part of Order also.’

The road from the Bright Tor Gate turned towards the cliffs and began to climb. The gorge of the Silver River dropped away to their right. Behind them, the bizarre sight of the celestial wyrm Argentine heating the Great Crucible dominated the sky. Beyond the cliffs the mountains stepped up, walling away the sky.

At the brink, where the road crossed the cliff top and joined the main Anvrok highway, were two crumbling towers. Once a toll gate perhaps, they were now piles of windblasted stone. Upon them snapped the banners of the Stormhosts in Anvrok’s hot wind. The angle of the road’s ascent allowed Vandus to see far up and down the line. He caught sight of Thostos, a lonely figure at the front of a tongue of brilliant blue-green. There was a gap of a hundred feet between Vandus’ own position and the last of the Celestial Vindicators. Behind the Hammers of Sigmar came the Lions of Sigmar, and so on, a long stream of warriors that led back to the Bright Tor Gate. The road was a marvel of duardin engineering, and although it had seen no maintenance for centuries there were few holes in its well-paved surface. The buttresses holding back the cliffs had stood the test of time and the roadway remained largely clear of debris.

Vandus thought on what Ionus said for a time, as the wide highway mounted higher and the thin lands of the river’s margin dropped away. ‘Do you think me a coward for asking on this, Ionus?’ he asked. ‘I assure you I am not. I pledged myself to Sigmar body and soul, and he has rewarded me well. I only wish to know the full price I am being asked to p—’