The last volari, p.1
The Last Volari, page 1
Other great stories from Warhammer Age of Sigmar
• GOTREK GURNISSON •
Darius Hinks
GHOULSLAYER
GITSLAYER
SOULSLAYER
DOMINION
A novel by Darius Hinks
THE HOLLOW KING
A Cado Ezechiar novel by John French
THE ARKANAUT’S OATH
A Drekki Flynt novel by Guy Haley
HALLOWED GROUND
A novel by Richard Strachan
GROMBRINDAL: CHRONICLES OF THE WANDERER
An anthology by David Guymer
A DYNASTY OF MONSTERS
A novel by David Annandale
CURSED CITY
A novel by C L Werner
REALM-LORDS
A novel by Dale Lucas
THE END OF ENLIGHTENMENT
A novel by Richard Strachan
HARROWDEEP
Various authors
An anthology of novellas
BEASTGRAVE
A novel by C L Werner
THUNDERSTRIKE & OTHER STORIES
Various authors
An anthology of short stories
Contents
Cover
Backlist
Warhammer Age of Sigmar
The Last Volari
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
About the Author
An Extract from ‘The Hollow King’
A Black Library Publication
eBook license
The Mortal Realms have been despoiled. Ravaged by the followers of the Chaos Gods, they stand on the brink of utter destruction.
The fortress-cities of Sigmar are islands of light in a sea of darkness. Constantly besieged, their walls are assailed by maniacal hordes and monstrous beasts. The bones of good men are littered thick outside the gates. These bulwarks of Order are embattled within as well as without, for the lure of Chaos beguiles the citizens with promises of power.
Still the champions of Order fight on. At the break of dawn, the Crusader’s Bell rings and a new expedition departs. Storm-forged knights march shoulder to shoulder with resolute militia, stoic duardin and slender aelves. Bedecked in the splendour of war, the Dawnbringer Crusades venture out to found civilisations anew. These grim pioneers take with them the fires of hope. Yet they go forth into a hellish wasteland.
Out in the wilds, hardy colonists restore order to a crumbling world. Haunted eyes scan the horizon for tyrannical reavers as they build upon the bones of ancient empires, eking out a meagre existence from cursed soil and ice-cold seas. By their valour, the fate of the
Mortal Realms will be decided.
The ravening terrors that prey upon these settlers take a thousand forms. Cannibal barbarians and deranged murderers crawl from hidden lairs. Martial hosts clad in black steel march from skull-strewn castles. The savage hordes of Destruction batter the frontier towns until no stone stands atop another. In the dead of night come howling throngs of the undead, hungry to feast upon the living.
Against such foes, courage is the truest defence and the most effective weapon. It is something that Sigmar’s chosen do not lack. But they are not always strong enough to prevail, and even in victory, each new battle saps their souls a little more.
This is the time of turmoil. This is the era of war.
This is the Age of Sigmar.
CHAPTER ONE
A hot wind blew across the Broken Plains, rustling grass gone dry and brittle as old bone, and I raced with it, staying just ahead of the mortals who hunted me.
I stopped at the top of the next hill, beside the basalt outcrop that jutted out of the crest like a shattered tooth. The wind moaned around the stone and I took it in, letting air fill the empty chambers of my lungs. Breathing was such a strange, invasive sensation, but I ignored the tickling touch of the dusty air moving in me as I searched for my hunters’ scent. It was almost buried beneath the smell of dead grass and sun-hot stone, but my father’s blood had gifted me with senses keen as my teeth. My pursuers reeked of their own mortality. Sweat, flavoured with fear and excitement, and beneath that the salt-iron-sweet smell of blood. My lips pulled back from my teeth as I breathed in again, baring my fangs in something like a smile.
There are many, Nyssa. The voice echoed through my head, her cool intrusion so familiar. Enough to be dangerous.
‘Enough to be interesting,’ I said. A full patrol. It had been years since Captain Takora had sent a patrol out this far, and I wasn’t going to let them slip away. My heart gave one slow beat, stirring the blessed blood that filled my veins, and I stepped out into the open, exposed on the crest of the hill. I couldn’t see the Sun Seekers, the remnants of the army that had been sent halfway across the realm of Aqshy years ago to destroy the Rose Throne, but I knew they were tangled somewhere in the scrub that lined the valley below. They would see me – a woman wrapped in dusty armour, carrying a pair of swords. They knew who I was, for I’d been fighting some of these mortals all their lives. But I was alone beneath the bright, hot sun, and I looked more like a girl playing soldier than the monster whose name they whispered in the dark.
Every enemy I’d ever faced had underestimated me. I hated that, but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t use it.
‘See me,’ I said. ‘Underestimate me. Follow me.’
Just don’t overestimate yourself.
I ignored that, staring down at a flash of gold that gleamed up through the brown leaves of the brush. The polished brass gilt of armour. I spun around, as if panicked by this glimpse of my pursuers, and started down the backside of the hill, heading towards the ravine that carved through the valley below. Careful to keep my speed in check, I timed my descent. The Sun Seekers had to believe that they were catching me, that this hunt was almost over. Which it was.
Just not in the way that they expected.
The ravine was a ragged wound in the bottom of the valley, a gash torn by the floods of storm season. Those rains were a distant memory, and the dirt crumbled into dust beneath my boots as I moved downwards. Stones rattled, and I had to stop myself from reaching out with my magic and wrapping silence around me. That gift, the ability to kill every sound in the air encompassing me, had been very useful when I’d gone out to find these mortals. But now I wanted them to hear me, and I let every footfall echo.
The ravine was empty, the sandy ground unmarked except for the tracks of lizards. Everything was ready, and when I reached the sand the harsh daylight began to dim. Looking up, I found the distant summit of Temero rearing over the ravine’s crumbling walls. The constant plume of smoke that rose from the massive volcano had grown, swelling enough to dull the day, and the shadows pooling at the bottom of the ravine increased. Better and better, even if the acrid stench of that distant smoke buried the scent of the mortals following me.
I moved to the far wall of the ravine and cocked my head. Stray wisps of my hair slipped from my braids and drifted across my face as I listened. Faint in the distance came the sound of boots, the clink of armour, the sound of harsh breathing and muttered curses. The Sun Seekers weren’t fast, but they were coming, ready to fight.
‘Good,’ I breathed, and my heart beat again.
Reaching down I unsheathed my blades. They were ancient weapons, taken from the Crimson Keep itself – two slim, double-edged swords, finely made but lacking any ornamentation. In shape and size they were identical, but the metal of the one I carried in my right hand was as bright as a mirror, while the one in my left was as dark as shadow. Both were as sharp as terror. I spun them around me, listening to the thin whine they made as they cut through the air, waiting. But not for long. The beat of boots ended and there they were, standing on the edge of the ravine. A line of men and women, their orange uniforms mismatched, the brass gilding on their breastplates and helmets dull with dust and age.
Not a full patrol, Nyssa. Two. I count twenty.
‘Nagash answers prayers,’ I muttered.
How would you know? You’ve never prayed in your life.
‘It is her.’ A man in the middle spoke, and I could see the insignia of a sergeant worked into his dented armour. ‘Nyssa Volari. Bloody Princess Bloodeyes herself.’
Bloodeyes? Is that supposed to be insulting? Those red streaks against the dark brown of your eyes are your best feature.
I didn’t give a damn what the mortals thought about my eyes. Calling me princess, though. The mortal would pay for that.
The sergeant waved to his soldiers, and five of them moved up, pulli ng crossbows from their backs. ‘You die today, Bloodeyes,’ he said as they ratcheted back their strings.
‘Do I?’ I said, spinning my swords in smooth circles again. ‘Try me.’
The Sun Seekers raised their crossbows, and my heart beat again – faster now, stirring the blood through my veins. The sergeant raised one hand and my heart started to squeeze again. Then his hand slashed down, and the soldiers pulled their triggers.
My blood was moving in me, and I could see the barbed bolts leap into the air like strange birds. I stepped back and turned, letting them pass through where I’d been. All except one. Its murderous metal tip would have sliced my cheek, but I spun the dark sword in my left hand and slapped it out of the air.
My heart finished its beat, and I looked up at the mortals with my blood-marked eyes and smiled. ‘Try again.’
‘Flank her,’ the sergeant snapped. The Sun Seekers might have been ragged, but they knew their business. The ones without crossbows split into two groups, dropping over the edge of the ravine. They landed on either side of me, swords and shields ready, except for the last soldier. When her boots hit the sand it erupted under her and she staggered back, falling on her backside as a sand adder coiled and hissed, long fangs shining.
I couldn’t help it. I should have used the moment to rush in and attack, but the sight of the woman’s startled face jerked the laughter out of me.
Don’t bray like a beast, Nyssa. You are Kastelai. Hold yourself like one, and show these mortals what a warrior of the Crimson Keep can do.
‘Yes, Mother.’ I went silent and straightened, schooling my face into an appropriate expression of cold contempt. My blood was rushing through me now, pushed by the now steady rhythm of my heart. ‘I’ll do you proud.’
I raised my swords, dark and bright, as the adder slid away and the Sun Seeker regained her feet, face twisted with embarrassed rage. ‘Are we ready?’ I asked. ‘Am I still dying today, or do you need more time?’
The sergeant answered by raising his hand again, and the fighters flanking me tensed while the crossbows drew aim. Then his hand fell, and everyone moved.
The shots were meant to throw me off balance into one set of swords or the other. But the mortals didn’t understand how slow they were. I moved, faster than a snake strike, and was beside the sergeant. He didn’t even have time to register my movement before I kicked him hard in the back, sending him flying to where I’d been standing just as the crossbow bolts ripped through that same space.
Most of the bolts flew past him, striking nothing but sand, but the last hit the side of his helmet straight on. It punched through the steel and the flesh and bone beneath, and the sergeant made a thin bleating noise like a startled goat and fell, thrashing his life out on the sand.
For a moment, the whole patrol went still around me, staring at their dead leader. Then someone shouted, an incoherent roar of fear and anger, and they were charging forwards again, swords raised.
I moved, my boots skimming across the sand so fast my tracks were barely more than the lizards’. I ran from one group and into the other, my blades whirling like shadow and light as I slashed the throat of one soldier, pushed back the blade of another, then danced away as they tried to pin me down.
It’s time, isn’t it?
It was almost tempting to ignore her, but Mother was right, and as I shifted, keeping the soldiers between me and the crossbows that were being reloaded above, I shouted, ‘Erant! Rill! Time to come out and play!’
Do you have to say things like that?
‘Father thinks they’re funny,’ I said, slapping a crossbow bolt out of the air.
Your father is amused by many ridiculous things.
Which explained me, she left unsaid. Spinning my swords, I charged the mortals that were running towards me, ducking another bolt aimed at my head.
I reached the soldiers just as the first of them were raising their shields, forming a wall to block me, but I threw myself to one side and dropped. My momentum sent me sliding boots first across the sand, under their shields. I came to a stop just behind the soldiers, and sprang to my feet, whirling my bright sword in a snapping circle that cut the tendons out of the back of the knee of the soldier closest to me, felling him.
I stopped then, watching the mortals stare at me with startled eyes. I spun one blade slowly, then ran the other past my lips, tasting the blood on its edge. Waiting for the Sun Seekers to realise I wasn’t alone.
The first found out when an arrow took her in the throat. She fell, gurgling, and the ones closest to her backed away, cursing, searching for the archer who had shot her. Before they could find them, a broad-shouldered fighter armoured in red and black with a massive two-handed sword crashed into their line. The Sun Seeker he struck barely had time to scream before that huge blade sheared through armour and flesh. The force of the blow sent the mortal flying across the ravine, to slam into the wall and fall, spilling blood and entrails.
Erant and Rill had hidden themselves against the walls of the ravine, crouching beneath overhangs cut into the dirt and veiled in shadows that had been deepened by Rill’s magic. With my shout they’d charged out into the fray, and now the mortals weren’t hunting me. They were trapped, caught between my paired swords, Erant’s blade and Rill’s bow.
The soldiers with the crossbows tried to pick off my companions. Two shot at Erant, hitting him in the chest. One bolt bounced off the red rose enamelled onto his black breastplate, but the other smashed through the steel faulds hanging below his belly and struck his upper thigh. Erant frowned when he was hit, then shattered a shield with his sword. He snapped the end off the bolt sticking out of his leg with one hand, getting it out of the way, then took off after the man with the broken shield. Rill dodged the three bolts aimed at her, disappearing into the shadows as she ran along the ravine’s wall. When she reappeared, she was snapping arrows out of her short, heavily recurved bow of wood and bone at the Sun Seekers who were trying to reload their crossbows. Two went down fast, arrows punching into them, and then another fell, screaming, an arrow piercing his hand and pinning it to the stock of his crossbow. The last two turned, dropping their heavy weapons to run, and Rill vaulted out of the ravine to chase them.
My heart was beating, my blood singing through me as I moved, dancing away from every murderous swing aimed at me, ducking swords and slipping past shields. I was smoke, a shadow swirling through the mortals, my swords darting like striking snakes. Around me the smell of blood rose, thick and intoxicating, and my rhythm began to falter as the bloodlust flared up inside me, ravening.
Control your emotions, Nyssa. Don’t let them control you.
Even with all my speed, I didn’t have time to answer, but my mother’s voice helped me keep my control, helped me keep my skill and discipline married to the raw ferocity that came from the beating of my heart. I fought like my father had taught me, and in the end the mortals were sprawled across the sand beneath the red, smoke-tinged light. All except one.
I looked at her, staring at me with fear and hate and resignation, her sword still raised, and I rolled my shoulders. My armour was cut, and through the rents I could see the wounds that marked my arms. A few blows had got through, but they were already closing, red gashes turning into pink scars that faded away to smooth, unmarked brown.
The last Sun Seeker was the one that had landed on the snake, the one that had made me laugh, and I spun my swords one more time. Then I wiped them clean on the orange shirt of one of the dead before sheathing them.
‘What’s your name?’ I asked her.
‘Neria,’ she said, and then she looked uncertain, as if she shouldn’t have spoken. She was a new recruit, some poor Broken Plains native the Sun Seekers had pressed into service to fill their failing ranks. So young. She looked like me, that way, which made me sympathetic and annoyed.
‘Your sergeant told me that I was going to die today, Neria.’ Rill had returned and was standing on the edge of the ravine, pulling arrows from the bodies and licking the blood from them. The wounded soldier up there was groaning, trying to crawl away from her. Beside me, Erant was pinning a man to the ground with his knee, one hand holding the man’s wrist, keeping him from stabbing at Erant with a dagger.
‘But I’m not,’ I told her, then I moved, smashing the sword out of her hand and catching her from behind. ‘I’m not going to die, Neria. Not ever.’ I looked at Erant and Rill and nodded, and they both dropped onto their captives, their teeth finding their necks. I could feel Neria jerk in my grip, but she didn’t scream, didn’t cry. ‘Don’t worry,’ I told her. ‘You’re not going to die either. Not today. But I am going to feed.’
