‘I am usurped,’ I said, continuing. ‘Come, take what is yours.’
Shaking off whatever moment had taken her, she gestured to the Concussors. ‘Seize him.’ Augus delivered a terrific screech as the warrior on foot passed close. He backed off, warily, hands raised. Vikaeus turned her staff towards the aetar. ‘I have no interest in your verminous prize, Augus. I am here for Hamilcar alone.’
Augus shuffled back, cawing, dragging the warlock with him, leaving a smear of hissing green oil on the rubble behind it.
‘Wait,’ said the mounted Concussor who had held back by the Bear Road. ‘What is happening to the warlock?’
Ikrit’s body was starting to dissolve, his armour buckling as green bubbles foamed from the seams.
‘Sigendil’s light,’ I swore, as the corpse began to buck and twitch under Augus’ foot.
‘Stay back, Lord-Veritant,’ said the other, drawing Vikaeus towards him by the elbow.
Vikaeus turned to address me. ‘Is this more foolery of yours, Hamilcar?’
I didn’t answer.
I was as captivated as they were.
A bang sounded from behind us, like popping corn, and we all jumped. Augus took to the air, alarmed. Vikaeus turned instinctively towards the Bear Road, the Concussors closing around her with lightning hammers raised. The battle for the Seven Words had been won, thanks to me, but it was far from over, and the Paladins were right to fear a skaven bullet aimed at their Lord-Veritant. This time, however, it was something less prosaic, but no less trying on the heart. It was Ikrit’s head, jumping about in the rubble where Augus had discarded it. The flesh, bone and metal seemed to be dissolving into a volatile mix of sickly gases and energy, leapfrogging the pulverised foundation slabs every time a belch of the former was released.
Vikaeus pushed aside her warrior’s lightning hammer for a clearer look.
‘What witchcraft is this?’
Augus settled onto an adjoining rooftop and shrieked down on us all.
Ikrit’s remains disintegrated into lightning, flares of poisonous green energy originating from his head and his body before crackling together above our heads. It was like an implosion, but of light rather than sound or energy, drawing it in and turning the realm around me dark. Combined into a single bolt, the lightning cut its chaotic path across the sky. I squinted, trying to follow its arcing course to whatever star marked its destination. I had a fair idea where it was going. A certain dark burrow with a Magrittan chaise and a strewn pile of ancient parchments, hurtling through the Allpoints towards realms unknown.
It didn’t help me very much, but even so I found myself smiling.
Ikrit had done it. He had done it. This was news of the darkest sort for Sigmar and the integrity of the Stormhosts, and the grimmest of tidings for the grand alliance of Order in general, but I smiled like a boy who had been given a sweet to assuage his hurts.
‘It’s not over,’ I said.
‘How…?’ murmured Vikaeus. She stared up, transfixed, troubled to the ice-cold cavity of her chest. ‘Where has he gone? Surely not the soul-mills of the Forge Eternal?’
‘I mean to find out, Vikaelia,’ I said.
‘What? No. Enough of this.’
Stepping between her warriors, Vikaeus brought the butt of her staff crashing to the ground. The leaves of ice that enclosed the abjuration lantern at its crown fell aside and heavenly light blazed forth. It spilled over the two Concussors and the Dracoth, brought a pained squawk from Augus, and would have rendered me immediately chastened and helpless had something gigantic not cast its wing shadow over me at just that moment.
Princess Aeygar Ayr Augus announced herself with an ebullient screech, spreading her wings to shield me from the Lord-Veritant’s light as she scooped me effortlessly from the ground in one talon. She had timed her descent with the grace of a born hunter, and a single beat of her wings was enough to convey her back into the sky without ever setting a claw on the ground. I made a noise that fell somewhere between a cry of delight and a scream as the ground fell away from me, my broken ribs grinding into me in the aetar’s grip, and the Lord-Veritant’s abjuration grew increasingly distant and dim. Before I had a chance to adjust to the change in scenery, I found myself hanging in the midst of the battle for the skies of the Seven Words. Aetar knights swooped and soared, slowing only to savage what remained of the Skyre clan ruinfleet.
‘Forgive my tardiness, lord.’
Nassam sat high on the princess’ neck, his dark beard and moustaches flying in the seven winds. His Jerech greatsword was sheathed across his back, the better to cling onto Aeygar’s plumage.
Princess Aeygar gave a concerned squawk.
‘I’ve suffered worse than this and walked away to tell the tale.’
She beat her wings, eyes sparkling. The feathers of her neck ruffled against her blued armour, a bass cooing coming from deep in her throat.
‘I don’t know what to say. If you’re sure you don’t mind having me for company for a while.’ Freeing one arm from Aeygar’s talons, I pointed weakly towards the now-distant speck of light that marked Ikrit’s passage.
‘Follow that lightning.’
With a joyful shriek, the aetar dipped her wings, and turned away from the Gorkomon.
‘So there you have it. You will probably have guessed that we’re some way from the end of this story. But look here… We have talked the fire down to its embers. It is morning and it is time to show the enemy our steel. Live out the day and perhaps I will seek you out again to finish the tale.
‘For Hamilcar. For Sigmar. And for the Free City.’
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I’m not normally one for writing dedications. I feel awkward sharing what I’m really thinking without having characters or a narrator to filter it before it reaches another human being. This novel is different. It’s my first as a full-time author, requiring me to suck it up and dredge up a few words of recognition and thanks, which is frankly the least that those who have helped make this possible deserve.
Thanks then to Guy Haley, Gav Thorpe, and Josh Reynolds for their sage counsel on making the leap and finally giving up my day job. To my girlfriend, Philippa, for not walking out when I suggested it. Thanks to Guy (again) and Justin Hill for the continuing support of the unofficial North Yorkshire freelance support group. One day we’ll actually have that get-together.
To Laurie Goulding, for buying that inauspicious story about two clanrats walking into a bar back in 2011. To Graeme Lyon and Lindsey Priestley for taking me on, through the End Times and Beast Arises and beyond.To Nick Kyme for too much to go into really, but in the context of these pages for being the one to convince me that a minor character from The Beasts of Cartha was a character people would want more of.
To Kate Hamer, who edited the Hamilcar short stories and who edited this novel and who came to love the big man as much as he loves himself (or as close as any mere mortal can get). To Toby Longworth, whose portrayal of Ciaphas Cain did so much to inform the voice of Hamilcar in this book.
And finally, of course, thanks to everyone who ever gave me a word of advice or encouragement, wrote a review or bought a book.
Especially that last one.
It’s you that made this book possible.
About the Author
David Guymer wrote the Primarchs novel Ferrus Manus: Gorgon of Medusa