Slaves to Darkness 02 - The Blades of Chaos by Warhammer

Author:Warhammer [Warhammer]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: General Fiction
Published: 2011-09-17T04:00:00+00:00

'We will take as much as we can,' he said. 'We will return to Fjaergardhold in glory, and we will buy weapons and armour and the loyalty of other tribes. Then we will return in force and take the treasure of these dead kings! We will show them that their time has long passed, and it is the age of the Norseman that shall see the end of the world!'

Needing no further invitation, Kurt's companions grabbed the ornaments, cups, plates, statuettes, jugs and other artefacts from the tomb's alcoves. They took their cloaks from their shoulders to use as sacks, and used their upturned shields as trays to take the bronze coins that spilled from small chests placed at the foot of the coffin. With a laugh, Kurt led them outside, and stood there for a moment, dazzled by the bright sunshine.

Across the road, Bjordrin led his party down a winding staircase, coming out into a large chamber that spread beneath the road. The roof and distant walls could not be seen in the circle of light cast by the torches of the Norse.

All they could see were row upon row of armoured figures. At first, Bjordrin took them to be statues, but on closer inspection, he saw they were half-decayed skeletons, somehow still bound together after these many centuries. They were dressed in armour inlaid with turquoise and lapis lazuli, and carried shields of hide reinforced with bronze rims and bosses. Each held a curved bronze blade in its right hand, arm crooked tight to its side as if it were standing to attention.

It felt chilly out of the sun, and Bjordrin could feel his sweat trickling coldly down his spine and the back of his legs. The way the torchlight flickered on the ranks of skeletal faces, casting shadows into empty eye sockets, made the faces seem to come alive with snarling expressions. He called the others back, the braver souls having started to wander down the seemingly endless ranks and files of dead soldiers, and hastened back up the stairwell.

Bjordrin was glad to reach the blinding light of the surface again, and watched the rest of the party stumble into the sunlight, shielding their eyes against the glare from the pale sandstone buildings and marble road.

'Where's Aelfir?' he asked, noticing that the warrior had not come up with the rest of them.

'I think he said he was going back to get one of those swords,' Myrta replied, wiping sweat from his face with the back of his hand and shaking beads of perspiration from his long blond beard.

'I'm not waiting for stragglers,' said Bjordrin, stalking away, uncomfortable with the raw fear he had felt in the chamber below. 'He can catch up.'

In the dark hall beneath their feet, Aelfir's decapitated body lay next to his head, its face twisted with horror. The sword of the warrior that was still standing to attention over his body glistened with fresh blood.

At the heart of the largest pyramid, Amen-athep twitched with fright as a deep, dusty voice echoed along the corridor.

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