Age of Legend by Various

Author:Various
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Black Library
Published: 2011-10-19T04:00:00+00:00

The Gods Demand

Josh Reynolds

The gates burst open with a thunderous groan and Hergig’s doom was sealed. For twenty-two days the capital of Hochland had stood firm against its besiegers, but no more. The gates fell, ripped from their dwarf-forged hinges by the mutated strength of the immense porcine nightmares that had crashed into them. Squealing and snorting, the barn-sized monsters charged into the city, their claws striking sparks from cobbled streets which shuddered beneath their heavy tread, and behind them came the warherd of Gorthor the Beastlord.

Braying and howling, the beastmen poured into the city like a living tide of filth. Of shapes and hues that only a madman could imagine, they hefted rust-riddled weapons and slammed them against crude shields daubed in the blood and fluids of defeated foes. The heads of orcs and men hung from their savage standards and they hurled themselves forwards like a force of nature, hard and wild and unstoppable. As they entered the foregate square, however, the men of Hochland were waiting for them with lowered spears.

The first rank of beasts impaled themselves on the spears, weighing the weapons down enough for the ranks behind to pounce with undiminished vigour upon the spearmen. Soldiers died as the creatures fell upon them and the survivors were slowly pushed back along the square.

‘Hold! Hold position!’ Mikael Ludendorf, elector count of Hochland, bellowed as he brained a beastman with his runefang, Goblin-Bane. Wrenching the strangely humming weapon loose of the pulped bovine skull, he grabbed the nearest soldier and shook the bloody sword beneath the man’s nose. ‘I said stay where you are, damn you!’

The spearman blanched and scrambled backwards, joining the rest of his unit as they retreated in ragged order in defiance of Ludendorf’s order. Ludendorf turned even as another gor bounded towards him on swift hooves, a crude polearm clutched in its claws. Shrieking like a dying horse, it sprang at him. The elector count bent out of the path of the weapon and chopped the creature near in half, dropping it to the blood-soaked ground, where it twitched pitifully for a moment before going stiff.

‘This is my city,’ he said, spitting on the body. ‘Mine!’ Then he turned to face the rest of the horde as it closed in. He shook his sword. ‘Mine!’ he bellowed.

Fully armoured and covered in the blood of his enemies, as well as some of his own, Ludendorf stood between his retreating troops and the invaders and pointed at the closest of the approaching beastmen with his brain-encrusted sword. Like all runefangs, it was not an elegant weapon, being instead the truest essence of a sword, and in that it suited its wielder well. ‘Who’s first?’ he roared.

The beastmen hesitated. Snarls ripped across the bare metres between them, and spears jabbed the oppressive air. Red eyes glared at him as hooves pawed at the ground. The closest beast danced awkwardly, coming closer then sidling back. For a moment, just a moment, the elector held them at bay with only his own stubborn refusal to give ground.

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