Godeater's Son (Warhammer Age of Sigmar) by Noah Van Nguyen

Author:Noah Van Nguyen [Van Nguyen, Noah]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2023-01-21T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-One

I raised my chin, lips tightening, heart fraught. I remembered Reiriz’s tidings well. This warrior-immortal thought I could be redeemed. But I would prove I was beyond her god’s reach.

My Ashstalkers’ feet scuffled up the aisles surrounding the nave, fine carpets bunching beneath their dirty heels. Our untrained rabble froze in the threshold behind us, bearing witness.

The Refuser stared. She was enormous. Her outsize hammer stood perched before her like a monument. Once she had been so still I had mistaken her for the canvas wall of a tent, but now she was restless. Her hammer’s heavy head ground upon stone. Restive movements whispered from her warplate and under her heels. Whitewoods did the same, groaning during gales.

‘Kill her,’ I told my fighters.

‘They cannot,’ she said, her voice like a pealing bell.

I urged them on, but they withered under Stormsworn’s glare.

‘My positioning is flawless,’ she said. ‘You cannot outflank me.’

I masked my annoyance with poise I did not feel. ‘Amusing. For an immortal about to die.’

‘But you are not yet immortal, Heldanarr Fall.’

I winced. ‘So. You remember my name.’

She nodded. ‘Do they know as well? Or do they all use that loathsome calling, Godeater’s Son?’

I loured. ‘I’ve heard stories of your kind. Forged by the God-King’s own hands. But you’re devils. Thunder golems, with lightning blood and starlight blades.’

Then I turned to the others.

‘Everything dies,’ I said, gesturing them forward. ‘You just have to–’

‘Varrianala Fall,’ the Refuser said. ‘Do they know her name, too? Or your father’s? Your mother’s? Do they know you had fifteen brothers and sisters and a crib with three legs?’

Her questions sucked the air from my lungs. ‘Eleven,’ I said. ‘Eleven brothers and sisters.’

‘Fifteen. Four died within their first year, but they still lived before that.’

I growled. ‘Sigmar told you.’

‘No. Sigmar says nothing of you. Sigmar does not know your name or your family. Only your sins.’

I gritted my teeth, gripping my weapons’ hilts until they creaked. Then I relaxed and fell into a pew.

‘You want to talk?’ I said. ‘Let’s talk.’

‘Godeater’s Son–’ an Ashstalker hissed.

‘Shut up!’ I shouted. The warrior withered. I would not let the Refuser take my victory from me with her words. I wanted complete control.

I faced the Refuser again, wrinkling my nose, admiring her sheer size. She looked as terrible as that day in the unterways, but I didn’t believe the legends. Stormsworn was big, yes. Her weapon mighty, and her armour a castle. But divine? A demigod? Ages had passed since the sight of her armour had conjured orreries in my head. Behind her stern-faced helm, beneath the realm of her warplate, I suspected Ildrid was like me. Human – nothing at all.

‘Last we met, you did not know me,’ the Refuser said. ‘I am Lord-Imperatant of the Hammers of Sigmar. We are Sigmar’s Chosen, reforged by his will. We protect his flock and annihilate his foes. We are strong. We are many. We are here.’

‘One of you,’ I sneered. ‘Alone.’

‘We are never alone. Sigmar is with us, always.’

I glanced up.

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