The Vulture Lord (Warhammer Age of Sigmar) by Richard Strachan

Author:Richard Strachan [Strachan, Richard]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2022-07-23T00:00:00+00:00

16

Dardus was picking at the calluses on his hands when the call went up, leaning with his broom against the city wall just off the Procession, down by the apothecaries’ quarter. He heard the cry rising from the gates and he could almost feel the wave of shock and fear that rippled away from it through the streets. A woman passed him as she came running down the Procession, a child clutched to her chest. He saw one of the healers in a shop at the corner of the street close his shutters and draw the inner bolt on his door. There was fever in the air, a sense of poise and uncertainty. The hot, silent moment before the storm breaks.

Two old Failed were pulling a waste cart just ahead, trundling it down the street. They looked at each other and dropped the shafts, scurrying past him as they hobbled for the alleyways that wound and climbed up to the gates by the second tier.

‘What is it?’ Dardus cried at them. ‘What’s going on?’

One of them turned before he ducked into the alleyway. ‘Bone­reapers!’ he hissed. ‘They’re here. Hundreds of them!’

Fear took him then. His tongue cleaved to the roof of his mouth. He swallowed, felt for the knife he had hidden under his tunic. Was this it? Were they coming for him at last? For all of them?

He took up his broom, clutching it to his chest like a shield. Maybe the priests had asked for help and Zothar was finally sending a force to crush them all? He thought of the weapons he had stashed in the caves above the bluff. The north wall rose up on his right-hand side, thirty feet of dusty marble with barely a foothold to be seen. He couldn’t scale it, but he didn’t fancy his chances trying to pass through the main gate either; it was forbidden for the Failed to leave the city unless they had specific permission, or duties to attend to.

He stopped and listened. He could hear the sound of marching feet in the distance, the crunch of dust and sand, the blunt metallic clink of weapons. He felt as if he was encased in a column of cold water. It was like the flense-fish rising from the depths of the bay all those years ago, paralysing him with fear. All of a sudden, he remembered Lycus’ voice rolling gently across the water, calm and steady, talking him out of his panic. The memory struck the flint of the anger inside him and lit a spark that had him moving at last.

No point in dying in ignorance, he thought. I may as well see what they’re going to do first. Let them cut me down in the agora if they must, where everyone can see…

He threw the broom to the ground. He doubted he would need it now.

Hesper came rushing up to him when he reached the end of the Procession, his rodent face drawn with fear.

‘Have you heard?’ he said.

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