The Dead Kingdom (Warhammer Age of Sigmar) by John French

Author:John French [French, John]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Tags: FMT
Publisher: Black Library
Published: 2024-04-27T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

‘The eyes of crows and bats have followed them since they began their march,’ said Casoris.

‘How many?’ asked Zorion.

‘Ten score of the dead pulled from their graves. Cavalry, wolves running ahead of them as heralds. At least two dozen of Mannfred’s get.’

‘Not enough to conquer a kingdom,’ said Sissendra.

‘Enough to burn much of it and take what they want from the ashes,’ said Zorion.

‘Indeed,’ Casoris breathed, and he ran his hand across his forehead.

They were in Casoris’ chambers. The only light came from a single lamp hung above a circular stone table. Maps lay on the tabletop. The hills, valleys and rivers of Calyx ran across the sheets of parchment in faded blacks, greens and reds. Twelve other Soulblights stood in the chamber besides Cado and Sissendra. There was one who was head and shoulders taller than Cado, her body coated in deep red plate. Another as gaunt as a corpse left to dry in salt. Another swathed in rags of black silk and red velvet. Some paced, tongues running over their teeth. Others held still, their silver eyes fixed on the maps. None of them had mentioned or questioned Cado and Sissendra being there, but some had looked at them with undisguised interest. Origor stood close to Casoris. Zorion had given Cado a grim grin as he entered. Origor had held back, silent and watchful, his stillness seeming constantly on the verge of shattering into movement. Aurelias, the lone mortal, stood behind the Soulblights, holding his staff and leaning against the chamber wall. He looked supremely relaxed. Tension crackled through the rest of the room.

‘How did they get such a large force across the boundary?’ asked the Soulblight in deep red plate. She sat on a stone tabletop, long legs folded under her, shoulders hunched. She had a copper goblet in both hands and was swirling the red liquid up its sides. ‘How are they sustaining their control of the dead walkers?’

‘It scarcely matters, Estrel,’ snarled Zorion. ‘They have done it. They are here.’

Estrel shrugged, swirled her cup, and took a sip. A red bead sloshed over her bottom lip and down her chin. She looked bored, thought Cado, disconnected.

‘It matters if there is a way that they can be starved of necromantic sustenance. The covenant, and therefore our prince, control the flow of magic across the kingdom. Strangle that and they would be just a few angry children of Mannfred barking at us like the dogs they are.’ Estrel looked up at Zorion and took another sip from her goblet. ‘Don’t you think that would be best, cousin?’

‘This blow cannot be avoided. It has to be met. Or are you coward enough that you would do anything not to stir from your crypt?’

‘Coward enough to have fought a blood war before, my dear. Which is one more than you have. And I am not so young and foolish to wish for another…’ She looked around at Casoris. ‘Or to call for one when all that matters is what our prince decides in the name of the queen.

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