‘Unless they’re already looking somewhere else,’ Aetius said, in instant understanding. ‘The servants of the Ruinous Powers are strong but fragile… They are still mortal, for all their monstrousness. Kill enough of them and they will lose heart. Kill their chieftains and they will flee.’
‘How will we know which are the chieftains?’ Felyndael said.
‘They’ll be the ones trying to get to us first,’ Aetius said.
‘Ah. Those,’ Felyndael said. ‘We can kill those.’
‘I encourage you to do so, and with all due haste,’ Aetius said, making his way back the way he’d come. ‘The more of them we kill, the less chance they’ll regroup when they break.’ He dropped heavily to the ground.
‘How many?’ Solus said, peering down the alleyway towards the plaza.
‘Many. We will meet them head-on and punch through them. Tight formation, shields locked,’ Aetius said, meeting the gazes of his warriors. ‘We are not many, but Sigmar is with us. We will prevail.’ He looked at Felyndael. ‘We will stop only when we reach the steps of the basilica. We will make our stand there.’
‘I will meet you there,’ Felyndael said, without further elaboration. He stepped back, and vanished into the packed reeds that made up the wall of the alleyway.
‘Can we trust them?’ Solus said, staring at the wall.
‘I have faith,’ Aetius said, softly. ‘Whatever their reasons, we want the same thing — the bells silenced and the enemy routed. Let us draw some attention to ourselves. Shields up.’ At his signal, his Liberators started forwards, shields raised, hammers ready. They marched into the plaza, moving with steady precision. The rattle of their war-plate clashed with the tolling of the great bells, filling the air with discordance.
One by one, the gathered Rotbringers turned. Chieftains bellowed commands as blightkings began to shove their way through the mass of bodies towards the approaching enemy. Horns whined and iron-shod bones thumped festering drums as the Rotbringers reformed to face the Hallowed Knights. Aetius slammed his hammer against the face of his shield. ‘Who will hold the dark at bay?’ he roared. ‘Who strides forth, when all is lost?’
‘Only the faithful!’ the Hallowed Knights bellowed in reply. As they did so, Solus raised his hand, and his Judicators sent a volley of arrows streaking up over the heads of the Liberators. Aetius gestured, and the Liberators picked up the pace. The square broke and reformed, becoming a wedge with Aetius at the point. He bent forwards, shield lifted, and began to run. The first Rotbringer he struck fell beneath him, and was crushed by the unyielding tread of the Liberators. The wedge blossomed like a murderous flower as the battle-line expanded at Aetius’ bark of command.
Hammers and war-blades rose and fell. Ichor splashed the reeds as the silver-armoured warriors hacked and crushed their way through the forces of the enemy. Where once they might have displayed caution, the Steel Souls now gave full vent to the fury that pulsed bone-deep within each and every Stormcast Eternal. They had clashed again and again with the servants of Nurgle since their arrival in the Jade Kingdoms. They had seen first-hand the monstrous cruelty such filth inflicted on the innocent and defiant alike. And here and now, that vile debt had at last come due.
‘Push through them,’ Aetius shouted. A featureless helm, covered in blighted sigils, burst like an overripe fruit beneath his hammer. ‘Hold the line, but do not stop!’ A Rotbringer lunged for him, and squamous tendrils slithered about his throat. Without stopping, Aetius slammed his head against that of his attacker, shattering malformed bone and bursting one faceted eye. The mutant reeled, squealing, and Aetius shoved it aside with a blow from his shield. Arrows slammed down ahead of him, erupting into crackling streamers of lightning as they felled squalling Rotbringers.
Axes and swords thudded against his shield or bounced off his armour as he waded through them. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a flash of crooked bark. A Rotbringer staggered, clutching at his spilling intestines in confusion. Another slumped, his head neatly removed from a spurting neck. The sylvaneth danced with a deadly elegance, their branch-like limbs sliding through flesh or launching deceptively gentle blows that nonetheless broke bones or punctured armour and flesh with ease.
When they reached the steps, the Liberators turned, sweeping their shields out, driving the closest of their foes back so that Solus could lead his retinue through. As soon as the Judicators reached the top of the dais, they loosed volley after volley into the packed ranks of the Rotbringers. At Aetius’ command, his warriors reformed their battle-line on the steps. Shield rims crashed together, forming a wall of gleaming sigmarite between the stunned Rotbringers and the Basilica of Reeds.
More of Felyndael’s tree-revenants erupted from the walls of the structures surrounding the plaza as the foe reeled in momentary confusion. They savaged isolated Rotbringers, reducing them to screaming wreckage before whirling away. Caught between the sylvaneth and the unyielding shield wall of the Stormcasts, the followers of Nurgle reeled as if in a daze. It wouldn’t last for long. The servants of the plague god were nothing if not resilient. And the bells were ringing again, impossibly loud, filling the debased creatures with courage and zeal. Aetius turned to Solus. ‘Hold the line. Let none of them pass. Felyndael and I shall silence the bells.’
‘Where is he? I don’t see him out there,’ Solus said, as he loosed an arrow.
Aetius looked towards the basilica. ‘Likely already inside.’ He caught Solus by the neck and brought their heads together. ‘Sigmar be with you, my friend.’
‘Better he go with you, I think. I’m perfectly safe where I am, sitting behind all of these shields,’ Solus said, pulling another arrow from his quiver. Aetius laughed and stepped past him. He hurried across the portico towards the sagging doors of the colossal basilica. The bells were pealing steadily, such that he half-hoped they might shatter.
‘Felyndael…’ he whispered, looking around. In kinder times, the basilica would have been impressive. Now, it was simply horrifying. A tarry substance marred the delicate whorls of the bent reeds, and the great pillars that supported the dome were covered in bunches of buzzing flies. Sickly green balefires burned in rusted braziers scattered along the length of the nave. The reeds making up the basilica seemed to pull away from their light and the weird shadows it cast. Grotesque censers had been hung from every cornice and arch, and they filled the air with a noxious miasma.
‘Here,’ Felyndael said, stepping into view. ‘The bells are above, within the dome.’
Aetius nodded. ‘Then let us silence them. The noise is wearing on me.’ Side by side, they stepped into the nave. There were no guards. Only a single figure, kneeling at the far end of the nave before a bloated idol. The idol was monstrous, its expression one of diabolical mirth, and flies clustered about it, clinging to its horns and ruined belly. Past the idol was a set of narrow steps, curving upwards and away around a pillar, rising towards the ceiling and the dome above. The kneeling figure shifted slightly, as they approached.
‘Stand aside,’ Aetius called out. Flies hummed in agitation.
‘What?’ The voice was a guttural thing, rough like hot mud splashing over jagged stones. ‘What was that?’
‘I said step aside,’ Aetius said, waving a fly out of his face. He peered upwards, and through the rotted gaps in the ceiling was just able to make out two great black-iron shapes, swinging back and forth within the dome. The curse-bells rang without need for human hands. Daemons, perhaps, or some sort of fell spirit, he suspected.
‘You must speak up, I cannot hear you for the bells,’ the hunched shape said loudly. ‘Or better yet, do not speak and return from whence you came. This place is for quiet contemplation, on the eve of doom. I commune with Grandfather. I would not be interrupted by… Hnh.’ The figure grunted. ‘The flies… The flies say you are not mine.’