Children Of Teclis (Warhammer Age of Sigmar) by Evan Dicken

Author:Evan Dicken [Dicken, Evan]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2023-07-08T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Elarin stood in the courtyard, thoughts troubled as the Namarti prepared for war. Although she knew Marrowscar’s walls to be straight as temple columns, the Ossiarchs’ grim parapets seemed almost to loom over her, adding to the oppressive weight of her consideration.

It was one thing to condemn a settlement to death. Far different to watch the executioners honing their blades, silent as death, while Arach stalked among them, checking straps and stances. Voltach presided over preparations like some sadistic magistrate eager to pass sentence. Any lingering affinity Elarin felt for the Tidecaster was drowned by the sheer delight on his face as the Idoneth raiders marshalled behind the cruel sweep of Marrowscar’s high walls.

If anything, the citadel seemed to approve of the coming bloodshed.

Elarin glanced to her two Namarti minders. If either held any desire to go reaving with their kin, they hid it well, swords bared, eyeless faces lacking any emotion beyond focused attention. Elarin might be free to move about the citadel, but she had no doubt they would act quickly should she show the slightest hint of betrayal.

She wondered what it must be like to be raised as a servant, a Thrall – denied the power and privileges of your betters through accident of birth. It was a heavy consideration, and all the more reason for her to assist in freeing the Namarti of their terrible burden. Despite their blank faces, their guttering souls, despite their slave collars, the binding runes cut into their flesh, they were aelves, and as such deserving of respect.

‘I would know the names of those who stand by my side.’ Elarin turned to her guards, voice gentle as if she spoke to an agitated gryph-hound.

If the Namarti heard her, they gave no sign.

‘What are you called?’ she tried again.

‘They will not answer you.’ Scyllene’s gravelly voice brought Elarin quickly about.

The Soulrender was armed and armoured as she had been when the Idoneth descended upon Chariel’s forces. An imposing figure, to be sure, lurelights glimmering like deep-sea diamonds amidst the spines and ridges of Scyllene’s articulated carapace, the razored curve of her talúnhook promising a swift end to any who stood in her way. Even so, Elarin could sense a strange reticence in the Soulrender, a feeling almost approaching regret as Scyllene’s gaze drifted to the two Namarti.

‘You care for them?’ Elarin phrased it as a question, although it was not.

‘They are my charges, if that is what you mean.’ Scyllene eyed her, expression dubious. ‘It is my duty to preserve what remains.’

Sensing the Soulrender’s burgeoning irritation, Elarin changed tack. ‘What do you think of Echaros’ plan?’

Scyllene narrowed her eyes. Such was her scowl Elarin thought the Soulrender would turn away. Instead, she gestured towards the Namarti on Elarin’s right.

‘Hakos.’ Scyllene nodded to the other. ‘Skria.’

Elarin glanced back, confused.

‘Their names,’ the Soulrender added with a rueful sniff. ‘At Blackfire, Hakos struck the head off one of the ratmen’s abominations, his own chest crushed by the beast’s death throes.’ She took a step towards the tall Namarti, running light fingers along his ribs.

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