Gotrek and Felix: The Sixth Omnibus by David Guymer

Author:David Guymer [Guymer, David]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Fantasy, Dragons & Mythical Creatures, Action & Adventure, Military, General
ISBN: 9781800260047
Google: per0zQEACAAJ
Publisher: Games Workshop
Published: 2021-06-08T03:00:00+00:00

Nine

The Crossroads of the World

A chimera circled the haunted citadel of Praag.

Its leonine fur writhed like penitent souls in the crosswinds that cut through the mountain passes to north and east. The beast swooped low over the Square of Heroes, startling the cloud of harpies that picked at the fresh bones hung from the statue of Tzar Alexis in the middle of the square. The hero of the Great War and contemporary of Magnus the Pious had been twisted by the touch of Chaos. Each day, the horns that now protruded from his forehead grew a little longer and whenever the skies blackened and the air crackled with a building warp storm, the graven statue wept tears of blood. It did so now.

With a sonorous wingbeat, the chimera regained altitude, scattering the screeching harpies as it sailed over the old town wall.

Max Schreiber pressed his face to the barred window of his cell.

The backwash of its passing ruffled his tangled beard and he moaned for the brief bliss of the sensation of wind on his face. The rolling bellow of a lion echoed across the snow-troubled rooftops of the Starograd. The chimera dipped its right wing, dropping into a turn that carried it over the Mountain Gate and the besieging hordes that froze out there on the oblast. Max angled himself to watch. There were thin screams, a torrent of flame, and then one more contemptuous wingbeat as the updraft of the chimera’s own fiery breath lifted it into a glide once again.

Max watched from his high tower as northmen and beasts charged through the flames like ants whose nest had been set ablaze. Drums beat furiously. Horns called by the thousand. Ladders rose out of the smoke and steam and clattered against the walls. On the ramparts, trolls smashed the siege ladders to kindling, beating down the assaulting forces or eating them. It was slaughter unparalleled and this battle had been raging for days. Around one such monster there glowered a faint red nimbus of power. Max recognised the ritual magic by which his captor’s bray-shamans imposed their king’s will on his minions. Strong as he was however, the Troll King was but one. Amongst the trolls, scrawny, half-beast ungor overseers stabbed down with spears and prodded the trolls to life whenever one became confused or threatened to fall into a stupor.

More beastmen were running through streets that had already been reduced to rubble by the passage of monsters. By the golden onion dome of a temple of Dazh, a red-bearded giant tore a gargoyle from the roof and hurled it over the wall. Max saw it roll through a crush of Chaos warriors carrying a battering ram. Harpies cackled overhead, picking off the pieces.

Max knew that the same scenes were being played out each day and night at the East Gate and the Gate of Gargoyles. He could hear it even when he tried to sleep.

Praag was the crossroads of the world.

To the north, Black Blood Pass and the legions of Archaon.

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