Temple Of Silence (Warhammer Age of Sigmar) by Richard Strachan

Author:Richard Strachan [Strachan, Richard]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Tags: Dark fantasy
Publisher: Black Library
Published: 2023-12-02T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

He had been kneeling on the cold stone floor now for hours. The muscles in his legs ached, spasming as he tried to shift his weight. He still held his hands clasped together, his fingers numb and his elbows locked. The chill inside Moonhallow’s temple had seeped into his very bones and the blood was sluggish in his veins.

Gerhard Thrane concentrated on the agony that surged through him. He felt it rush and sweep through his body, more precious to him than rubies. Where the harsh twine had sealed his lips, he felt a burning pain that almost made him weep. One of the scars on his lips had split open and dripped blood down his chin. His back had seized up, and the only part of him that felt in the least bit at ease were his eyes, blessed as they were to be gazing on the stained glass windows that admitted the cold afternoon light in sheets of green and gold. A tear slipped from the corner of his eye and trickled down the side of his nose. Before him, picked out in shards of glass so perfectly arranged you could be forgiven for thinking it duardin craftsmanship, Sigmar strode forth onto the plains of the Mortal Realms at the beginning of the Age of Myth, his pantheon at a respectful distance behind him. Golden was Sigmar’s armour, and resplendent was the light that framed him in searing yellow and palest blue. Ghal Maraz was held in the God-King’s mighty fist, ready to smite the unbelievers. Stern was his visage, yet just and merciful too. The garnets that were his eyes stared down on the nave of the temple, where Sigmar’s humble servant knelt in abject contrition. Gerhard raised his eyes to the light as it washed over him.

Sigmar, he thought. Lord and master, forgive me. Forgive me for everything I have done, and everything I have failed to do!

He had not eaten since the day the vampire had attacked and stolen Veerla from them. His head was light and his mouth was dry. His stomach gnawed at itself, ravenous, but it was as nothing compared to the gnawing of his guilt.

A door opened and quietly closed somewhere behind the apse. Gerhard heard the sound of soft footsteps, the scuff of sandalled feet coming near across the stone floor. In the corner of his eye he saw Lector Fransen approach reverently, with the greatest respect. He held a cup of water in one hand, a reed straw in the other. It was possible, if painful, to slot the straw through the twine and allow him to take a sip, but Gerhard immediately shook his head. There would be no soft comforts for him during his abnegations. The body must be subordinate to the mind, and the mind craved only Sigmar’s judgement.

‘Please, Lector Thrane!’ Fransen begged. He held out the straw. ‘You must, even just a little sip. There is no shame in it. Do not the scriptures

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.