CHAPTER 4
THE SIERRA ANGEL
* * * * *
"Blessed is the man
who does not walk in the counsel of the wicked
or stand in the way of sinners
or sit in the seat in the seat of mockers." - Psalm 1:1
* * * * *
Wake up Lelith.
My eyes cracked open, then shut from the glare of white light that met them.
You must wake up. A great evil holds the lands.
I attempted to say 'chaos' but all that came out was a strangled groan.
No. Something greater than Chaos will take the lands into a new evil, the likes of which have never been seen by mortal eyes.
I inched my eyelids upwards, and before me I beheld the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. The Sierra Angel stood before me, a radiant beauty in the frozen wastelands. She was cloaked in white, and her wings were also of a brilliant white, while her hair was jet black and her eyes blue. A glow surrounded her, and I took this to be the presence of Sigmar. She spoke again.
You can go on to my lands, Lelith. You will not die while I give you my strength.
I recognized her voice as the one that called me across the desert. From inside her cloak she drew a pendant. It was two finely intertwined silver chains, so fine and well crafted they looked like thread, and attached to it was a golden locket, about the size of my thumbnail.
Let this locket light your journey.
The pendant materialized around my neck. It was light, very light.
I must go now. Goodbye, Lelith. Good fortune be with you.
And then she was gone. A great strength filled my body, and I rose up, and proceeded on my journey.
* * * * *
Three days have passed since the Sierra Angel came to me, and I am nearing her land. I can feel it. My body is filled with a vigor and energy I had forgotten, and my magic is back to its full strength. The locket around my neck glows with white power, and it fills me with joy.
I dare not open it though. To do that would be blasphemy of a most awful sort. This was a gift from an angel.
I am camped in the shade of a ridge. I feel this is what separates me from the Far Western lands, and the Sierra Angel.
A Beast stands upon it, guarding the pass. What must I do?
* * * * *
I approached the Beast carefully, my sword drawn and my magic ready. The Beast was as big as . . . as a pine tree. As tall as a pine tree, but as wide as the pass. Its scaled body glittered in the dim light of the evening, seeming to be all colours at once. I recognized the body to be that of a basilisk, a monster that can turn you to stone at a glance (A/N not a harry potter basilisk, K?). The Beast had three heads of different descriptions, joined to the body by long hairless necks. One, on my left, was a snake, fanged and hissing. Poison dripped from its fangs in great drops. The middle head was a lion, its mane a reddish brown. It roared playfully at me as I approached. The one on my far right was a human head.
This head was scarred, gouges running along its cheeks and one eye missing, showing a dark hole. The head was bald. It was pierced in several places, rings hanging from its nose, eyebrows, lip, and ear. It was painted with purple clan markings, symbols on its forehead. In the middle of this was a third eye. I recognized this to be the third eye of Tzeentch, the Chaos god of Change.
This Beast is a creation of Chaos.
The voice rang clearly in my head. It told me I had to defeat it if I wished to see the Angel again.
"How?"
The Beast of Chaos cannot be killed, for it will leave the physical world and re-enter as something else.
"Then what shall I do?"
Fight it with the heart.
I looked at my hand, at the symbol that had been there since I scared the animal in the desert. It was a four pointed star, black like a well, which sucked into my soul. I walked up to the beast and laid a hand on the snakehead. It writhed and lay still, awake but not dangerous. It blinked. Odd.
I laid my hand on the lion head. It purred softly, and was still.
But I could not touch the head of Tzeentch, no matter how hard I tried. My hand drew back whenever it got close.
You must, Lelith.
Pressing down all feelings of revulsion, I laid my hand on the third face. It shrieked, the unholy sound filling the air like a liquid, solidifying and making everything sluggish. I nearly threw up, but kept my hand on its face. And then, it too, was still.
I looked at my hand, and saw the star was blood red. I walked past the beast, over the ridge, and into the Far West.
THE SIERRA ANGEL
* * * * *
"Blessed is the man
who does not walk in the counsel of the wicked
or stand in the way of sinners
or sit in the seat in the seat of mockers." - Psalm 1:1
* * * * *
Wake up Lelith.
My eyes cracked open, then shut from the glare of white light that met them.
You must wake up. A great evil holds the lands.
I attempted to say 'chaos' but all that came out was a strangled groan.
No. Something greater than Chaos will take the lands into a new evil, the likes of which have never been seen by mortal eyes.
I inched my eyelids upwards, and before me I beheld the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. The Sierra Angel stood before me, a radiant beauty in the frozen wastelands. She was cloaked in white, and her wings were also of a brilliant white, while her hair was jet black and her eyes blue. A glow surrounded her, and I took this to be the presence of Sigmar. She spoke again.
You can go on to my lands, Lelith. You will not die while I give you my strength.
I recognized her voice as the one that called me across the desert. From inside her cloak she drew a pendant. It was two finely intertwined silver chains, so fine and well crafted they looked like thread, and attached to it was a golden locket, about the size of my thumbnail.
Let this locket light your journey.
The pendant materialized around my neck. It was light, very light.
I must go now. Goodbye, Lelith. Good fortune be with you.
And then she was gone. A great strength filled my body, and I rose up, and proceeded on my journey.
* * * * *
Three days have passed since the Sierra Angel came to me, and I am nearing her land. I can feel it. My body is filled with a vigor and energy I had forgotten, and my magic is back to its full strength. The locket around my neck glows with white power, and it fills me with joy.
I dare not open it though. To do that would be blasphemy of a most awful sort. This was a gift from an angel.
I am camped in the shade of a ridge. I feel this is what separates me from the Far Western lands, and the Sierra Angel.
A Beast stands upon it, guarding the pass. What must I do?
* * * * *
I approached the Beast carefully, my sword drawn and my magic ready. The Beast was as big as . . . as a pine tree. As tall as a pine tree, but as wide as the pass. Its scaled body glittered in the dim light of the evening, seeming to be all colours at once. I recognized the body to be that of a basilisk, a monster that can turn you to stone at a glance (A/N not a harry potter basilisk, K?). The Beast had three heads of different descriptions, joined to the body by long hairless necks. One, on my left, was a snake, fanged and hissing. Poison dripped from its fangs in great drops. The middle head was a lion, its mane a reddish brown. It roared playfully at me as I approached. The one on my far right was a human head.
This head was scarred, gouges running along its cheeks and one eye missing, showing a dark hole. The head was bald. It was pierced in several places, rings hanging from its nose, eyebrows, lip, and ear. It was painted with purple clan markings, symbols on its forehead. In the middle of this was a third eye. I recognized this to be the third eye of Tzeentch, the Chaos god of Change.
This Beast is a creation of Chaos.
The voice rang clearly in my head. It told me I had to defeat it if I wished to see the Angel again.
"How?"
The Beast of Chaos cannot be killed, for it will leave the physical world and re-enter as something else.
"Then what shall I do?"
Fight it with the heart.
I looked at my hand, at the symbol that had been there since I scared the animal in the desert. It was a four pointed star, black like a well, which sucked into my soul. I walked up to the beast and laid a hand on the snakehead. It writhed and lay still, awake but not dangerous. It blinked. Odd.
I laid my hand on the lion head. It purred softly, and was still.
But I could not touch the head of Tzeentch, no matter how hard I tried. My hand drew back whenever it got close.
You must, Lelith.
Pressing down all feelings of revulsion, I laid my hand on the third face. It shrieked, the unholy sound filling the air like a liquid, solidifying and making everything sluggish. I nearly threw up, but kept my hand on its face. And then, it too, was still.
I looked at my hand, and saw the star was blood red. I walked past the beast, over the ridge, and into the Far West.