Scourge of Fate (Warhammer Age of Sigmar) by Robbie MacNiven

Author:Robbie MacNiven [MacNiven, Robbie]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2018-12-24T16:00:00+00:00

Part Nine

The Third Eye

‘We thought you dead,’ Jevcha said.

Vanik smiled, but the expression had little warmth.

‘Did you, or only Mother Yogoth?’

‘She prophesied,’ Jevcha said, her tone uncertain.

‘She lied,’ Vanik replied simply. ‘You have such little faith in me, sister.’

Jevcha did not respond. They stood side by side on the edge of the ruined shrine’s hilltop, the warband’s encampment spread beneath them. It had almost doubled in size since Vanik had ridden out for the castellum. Wagons, caravans and mobile warshrines stood in clusters around the standards and lodge poles of disparate tribes, and the air was hazed with the smoke of campfires and the tang of cooking meat, the musk of cattle and horses, and the stink of unwashed bodies.

‘How many have come?’ he asked.

‘Five separate war parties,’ Jevcha replied, her voice firm once more as the discussion turned to more certain ground.

‘Their leaders are known?’

‘They are. Each has been vouched for by one of your champions.’

‘And did any of those champions believe Mother Yogoth’s so-called prophecy?’

‘You know which ones,’ Jevcha said. Vanik laughed darkly.

‘Were we not riding for war, I’d have them flayed and hung alive from the walls of this pathetic church.’

‘I would do that regardless. They have no respect.’

‘But that is why I lead this warband, Jevcha, and not you. I will take the blood-oaths of the new war parties tonight. Tomorrow we travel for the Third Eye.’

‘We don’t wait for more bands to join us? A Yekken scout rode into camp last night saying his kindred are three days’ march away, and what of Ulek’s Bloodbound?’

‘If any more are to join us it will have to be on the march,’ Vanik said. ‘I have sent half a dozen of Faug’s riders to tribes and warbands spoken of by Ulek. They have instructions to make for the Third Eye and await us there. If we arrive before them, what we have will need to be enough.’

He could sense disagreement from the warqueen, but she mastered herself, looking away from Vanik and out across the sprawling camp.

‘There are tensions,’ she said. ‘Between the new war parties and the old. Between some of the champions.’

‘Champions who doubt my abilities to lead them into favoured battle,’ Vanik surmised. ‘Who think we will sit here for weeks more, consuming our cattle, draining the well dry, boring the Gods with our indolence. They are imbeciles, but I would expect nothing less from them. That is half the reason we must strike camp and make for the Third Eye tomorrow. No warband of this size can stay idle without tearing itself apart.’

‘The Knights of Ruin will quell doubts, for now,’ Jevcha added. Sir Caradoc and his knights had remained with the warband since carving a path out of S’aai’s warped fiefdom, vowing to guard Vanik from any retaliation from the servants of the Lost God until the Black Pilgrim crossed over into the Realm of Metal. Their presence had inspired equal awe and fear among the gathering horde – scarred warriors, bearing the

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