Mark of Chaos by Anthony Reynolds

Author:Anthony Reynolds
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781844163960
Publisher: BL Publishing
Published: 2013-12-16T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

THE SKY OVERHEAD was black, but filled with light. Ghostly green and blue luminosity rolled across the heavens, forming what looked like giant mountains and castles high in the stars. Sometimes, Hroth thought he could see shapes up there amongst the mountains, whirling and flying through the night. The colours swirled and re-formed, creating ever more awe-inspiring shapes and dramatic colours. The blues and greens changed to fiery yellows and reds, and it was then that Hroth felt at his strongest. The realm of the gods, Hroth thought. He felt privileged to gaze upon the worlds inhabited by the great ones, if that was truly what they were. He wondered if the blood citadel of Khorne was atop one of those mountains, the castle of skulls where the god sat upon his great bronze throne.

The chosen of Khorne had been travelling across the landscape for what felt like months as days and nights blurred into one another. He could never remember the sun rising or falling, but knew that it must have. Some moments, the burning sun blazed down upon him, burning his face and making his armour blisteringly hot. The red earth beneath his feet exuded heat, and all around him he saw shimmering heat waves. Creatures flickered in the corner of his eyes, but nothing was ever there when he turned to face them.

At other times, it was the dead of night, and the green moon of Chaos hung heavy in the sky, close and throbbing with power. Icy winds ripped through him, chilling him to the core. The land itself shifted and changed, although he could never pinpoint the moment when the change had come. One moment he would be walking over red rock, the next he would be climbing strangely hexagonal black rocks that continued up before him as far as he could see. Sometimes, he walked through thin crevices of water-slick rock that he could only just fit his shoulders through. Waterfalls of black water fell from thousands of feet above him, roaring down into bottomless pits.

Always, he was driven on. He had to reach the tower of skulls, he knew that, but he had only glimpsed the massive structure in the far-off distance. He struggled on through ash wastelands, across plains of salt, walking amongst the wind-blasted skeletons of ancient, gigantic beasts.

He could feel the power of the place working on his body and on his mind. It was like a pressure in the back of his head, a pressure that built the further he travelled. He knew that if he succumbed to it, his flesh would change, alter, and he would no longer be himself at all. Give yourself up to the change, a voice within him kept saying. Give yourself to Chaos fully.

The pressure in his head built, and he could feel the struggle within. He dropped to his knees, his hands to his head. His body was resisting the change, but he felt it within him, unstoppable. His muscles twitched uncontrollably, and he could feel his organs being stretched and squeezed.

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