CH-53, close to Altdorf, Bezahltag 23. Vorhexen
Joakim Vos' ears were filled by the hammer and the scream. The hammer of six rotor blades that kept the heavy helicopter in the air and the scream of the two 6000-hp turbines that drove them. Through the window on the other side of the cabin he could see the landscape rushing by, empty of humans and covered by a thick layer of freshly fallen snow. His eyes saw that as they saw the 27 other members of the Reiksbund Paladin's ready platoon. All clad in their power armor, engaged in last-minute checks of their gear and banter. His mind parsed none of that as he tried to make sense of the information provided by radio. When he failed to make sense of that the second time he closed the visor of his suit. He looked at a black surface for the briefest of moments before the monitors restored vision with crystal clarity. He still saw the inside of the helicopter and his team, but also the information overlay. The helmet's loudspeakers stopped transmitting outside sounds the moment he pressed the button and the voices in his head suddenly made more sense.
"Altdorf Center and the Light Order both report another increase in magical energies. If the trend continues then a rift into the Warp will appear in less than 15 minutes. 2nd Platoon is kept on the ground till we have rounded up the rest of the mages. What are your intentions Paladin Actual?"
"We will occupy Hill 188, that will allow us to observe and intervene if needed. ETA three minutes."
"Copy that Paladin actual."
Joakim had another look at the map. Whatever caused every magical detector in a thousand-kilometer circle to go off had done so in a rather unassuming valley used to graze sheep. The database held nothing about it and Meister Jagd, their resident mage, stated the magic felt unlike anything he had encountered before. Swiping over the touchpad on the inner side of his left arm brought a small video up that was provided by a Hammer Hawk drone. A small patch of fog hid whatever was at the bottom of the valley. Another swipe brought up its infrared counterpart, but no more clarity. The spot on the valley's floor was a big blob of blackness. That might mean that the fog contained a lot of water vapor or more sinister things.
"Altdorf actual, this is Paladin actual. Do we have radar intelligence of the target zone?"
"The MM-wave radar on the Hammer Hawk was also blocked Oberstleutnant. A recce Typhoon is due in 15 minutes."
"Paladin actual copies. Sir Ludwig, did you hear this?"
"Yes Sir."
"I don`t like this at all. We secure the LZ and observe till we have better data and a bit more fire support."
"Sounds like a plan Sir."
The huge helicopter landed at the far side of a hill that shielded them from directly observing the valley. A couple of drones rose into the air or made their way on spidery legs while most of the platoon established a perimeter. Joakim and his small command group stayed in the middle of things and went through the additional data they received. Which was not very much. Everybody felt a strange pressure, as if they had a hard time getting enough air and al thought they saw things moving in the corner of their eyes. Of any concrete threat they saw nothing. Joakim heard some reports and watched the updates in his helmet display. The Paladin Squad was able to deal with most things the Warhammer World could throw at them, but with every passing minute they could command a greater amount of fire support. Whatever was inside that fog had its work cut out. Whatever was inside the fog issued a deep hissing sound and all of a sudden, the opaque mist started to glow and expand towards the hill at ever-increasing speed.
"Sir, the fog is…." Was the last thing Joakim Vos heard before the glowing fog rolled over them all. No matter whether the Paladins used their suit's sensors or their own eyes, none of them would see anything than an opaque whiteness. When it cleared up a minute later none of them was harmed in any way. Joakim Vos, their commanding officer was nowhere to be seen.
Close to the Glade of Kings, Athel Loren
The hand clutched in Pierre's had been cold for the last half-hour, now it had lost the little heat and tension that had been left. Antoine had been with Pierre into Castle Artois, he had made the transition to the stormtroopers with him and now he was no more. Athel Loren`s healers and Shallya's helpers had done their best, it had not been good enough. A Dryad had pierced Antoine's abdomen and had left enough particles that even magic and antibiotics had not been able to keep the wound from festering. Antoine had been a strong man, a good soldier and he had not yielded without a long and nasty fight, now it was over and despite the grief that Pierre Trosieme felt he also exhaled in relief.
He folded the hands and closed the eyes of his comrade before making his way outside. This had been a bad day in a succession of them and he needed some time for himself. Taking a bearing on the Oak of Ages he started a walk that would lead him around the Glade. His Gambeson armor kept him warm enough, not that he would have felt the chill presently. He would have loved to have a drink, something strong and he knew the Asrai would gladly provide something. He could not and would not avail himself of that offer, it would not do. When he raised his arm sufficiently he could see the added stripe on it, the stripe he had inherited from Francois who had died in the same fight that had now finally killed Antoine. He had been too exhausted to make much of the promotion when General Walther shook his hands. And the same exhaustion, coupled with his sense of duty had made him agree to stay behind and look after those Stormtroopers who could not be flown out immediately.
Most of them would make it, some of them would not. Every one of them hurt, badly. He knew that he had done right, done as good as anybody, had been told by Walther Theodoric St. Helier, his own men and by the freaking Wild Hunt. And still, every one of them seemed to be his bloody fault. He did not want to be here, he wanted to be with Colette, he wanted to be in a place where he could let his hair down and he could have none of it. Walking through the snow his angry marching threw up lots of snow.
The Asrai Spellweaver had stepped besides the Sister of Shallya when both had decided that they needed a bout of fresh air. Both had come to respect each other during the last two weeks and enough Breton between them to make do.
"That one is taking it pretty hard isn`t he?"
"The good ones always do."
"A warrior as him should be used to it."
"If I remember correctly he was pulling tubers three years ago."
"Oh Isha. And still he and his men managed to hold. If you'd have told me they would last year I'd have called you a liar."
"If I'd told him the same two years ago, maybe even last year he would have called me a liar. He did grow up in an awful hurry and we both know about growth pains, don't we?"
"Yes, we do. Say Helouise, some of us would like to see the patients a bit happier, to show them we appreciate. Can you think of anything?"
"You ask me? I arrived here from Altdorf, I hardly know...oh, wait one. I think I have an idea…."
On a ship, somewhere
The white fog clung to Joakim like a funeral cloth, taking all sight, muting sounds into uselessness and left him disoriented. Within seconds he felt the ground under him lift and rise while even the distorted sounds of his men were replaced by a creaking and whistling.
The fog receded gradually and sight returned but slowly. The valley, the Paladins and everything he had seen was gone. It was replaced by the wooden deck of a strange ship sailing on a sea of the white fog that had somehow brought him here. There were bits and pieces of rigging and other stuff he had hardly seen before something else caught his attention.
There was a Druchii a few meters before him, clad in black cloth and plate armor. He held a slender longsword of the deepest blackness in his hand and red runes crawled over it. The Elf seemed confused and angry. Joakim did not understand Sperenthiel, but would have recognized it. Whatever this Druchii shouted was not that language, but the threat and the challenge easily crossed what language barrier there was.
His Mauser was in his arms and would have been more than enough to handle any threat the Druchii posed. Something made him grab for the sword that was maglocked to his armor. When his hand closed on the handle he started hearing another voice. It sounded like it could come from the Elf, but he could actually understand what he heard. He barely registered that the Druchii's lips did not match what he heard.
"I am Elric, Prince of Melnibone. Show yourself and tell me why you brought me here before Stormbringer devours you."
"I am Joakim Vos, Reiksbund Paladins. I did not bring you here."
"And I am to believe you."
"You should, you two arrived after me."
The man who stood to the right of them was bigger than both and moved like he did not wear plate armor. He lifted his helmet from his head, revealing a rugged human face, disfigured by a black jewel set in his forehead.
"Dorian Hawkmoon, Duke of Cöln at your service. And before you two ask me, I have arrived all of five minutes ago and have as much idea where I am as you have. I suggest we ask him about it."
The duke`s hand waved to the ship's quarterdeck where a lonely figure stood at the wheel. He seemed human, of indeterminable but advanced age. Wrinkles crossed wrinkles on a skin burned by more than one sun, a white beard hung to the man's chest. Whatever the man's age, he held his back straight, his hands gripped the wheel without tremor and he held his head high. A floppy hat shielded the face a bit, but could hardy hide the eyes which were the color of hard-boiled eggs.
"Welcome on the Sea of Fate Champions. You are direly needed."
Fenris System, another universe and time
Russ' Claws was a massive spaceship, more than two kilometers long and bristling with armor, weapons and launching bays. Thousands of Space Marines, Chapter Serfs and others milled in its many rooms and corridors. The Astartes Strike Cruiser had served the Space Wolves well for hundreds of years. It had left the Warp two days prior and was now on its way to far-off Fenris. Ship and crew both needed time from the battlefield that was the ever-shrinking gap in the Eye of Terror.
The ship was the product of an Empire that ran for 10000 years. It had lots of technology half-understood and nearly irreplaceable. It had spires, flying buttresses and stained-glass windows that led to cathedrals. It was just one step away from the most powerful warships the Empire of Man possessed.
The bridge was filled with bustling life. Space Marines moved carefully through a throng of normal-sized humans. Many personnel were hardwired into their stations and some had manned them for more than a century. Information flowed into this room and orders gushed from it.
Even an observer unfamiliar with the ship would see that something stirred up the bridge considerably. The hololiths changed colors and started to repeat one set of data, more orders were shouted and additional stations manned. Something unexpected had come up, something big.
Close to the ship, closer than the moon is to earth something stressed the fabric of reality till the breaking point. Before long it parted and allowed a view into the Empyrean best avoided. The opening did not last long, but it was sufficient to allow something to enter realspace.
It was a ship, but unlike anything the Space Wolves had seen before. Dwarfing their cruiser, it measured nearly 20 kilometers in length. Where their ship was angular and full of spires this was compact and smooth. It was hauntingly familiar and threateningly strange.
The crew was still trying to amass as much sensor data as they could when the strange ship tried to open communications. Russ' Claw's captain ordered his crew to accept and watched a picture form on the holodisplay before him. A red-robed horror with tentacle-like limbs fixed him with inhuman eyes. The sound needed a second longer to stabilize and so the first words were lost in transmission. The next ones made up for that.
"We want to talk to Primarch Leman Rus."
Ship, somewhere
"Who are you and why did you bring us here?"
Elric was faster and maybe a bit less polite than Joakim would have been, otherwise he could not agree more.
"Prince Elric, you may address me as Captain as I do not remember all of my names any more and they really do not matter. You are on board of the Verdandi, the ship that will always navigate the Seas of Fate, the sea that connects all time and all realities. You were brought here by the masters of the beings you clutch in your hands. You are needed to avoid a menace that will devour many worlds, including those you currently inhabit."
"Are we dogs that obey when their masters whistle?"
"No, you all are Eternal Champions, each and every one of you fighting for the balance so that your worlds might live."
"I am Price Elric of Melnibone, I serve nobody and I demand that you bring me back whence you took me."
"Back to that forgotten beach my prince? You would die there of thirst within the week. No chance for you to learn, no chance of seeing Cymoril again, no chance to come to grips with Stormbringer. And you might gain a pointer towards Tanelorn?"
"Why should I care about a place I have never heard of?"
"You will Prince Elric, you will."
"Prince Elric, this captain and this ship are likely the only way for each of us to get where we want to be. Maybe we should …"
"You may do that, I will not."
The next words that came out of the Elf's mouth should not come from such a throat. They sounded off and unlike anything that Joakim had ever heard. His sword managed to translate them well enough though.
"Blood and souls for you Lord Arioch, blood and souls…"
The words were strange, ugly and unlike anything the Paladin had ever heard. And they stayed that, just words. Nothing came from the fog, Elric stayed where he was and the confused and frustrated look on his face indicated that nothing would in the near future.
"Your patron has no entrance here Elric and none where we are going either."
Elric turned to Verdandi's helmsman and lifted his sword.
"You will bring me to.."
"My Prince, I do believe you just offered a demon our blood and souls if I am not off. We are all stressed, let us not make any more mistakes, shall we?"
Joakim doubted that the Elf knew what the Mauser was that was sighted on him, but he regarded it as a threat all right.
"Are you threatening me?"
"Keeping you from making another mistake, especially one at my expense. I think we should listen a bit more before we act, don't you?
"Princes of Melnibone never forget slights."
"I hope so."
"Elric, whatever you tried to do there, do not do this again."
"You too?"
"Yes, Dorian Hawkmoon is not to be used as fuel for your sorcery. Once is enough, twice would be be unforgivable. And now let's listen to that nice captain, shall we?"
"That would be wise if any of you wants to see home again. I am not the one who brought you here, I am the one who will bring you where you are needed and those of you who survive back whence you came. Killing me will strand you on the Sea of Fate and you will not like that."
"Accepted, for now."
"So what mission needs the three of us?"
"The Lords of Chaos have decreed that in a place far from here in time and space somebody has to die. You are to prevent that."
"The Lords of Chaos, are we talking about Khorne, Nurgle and company?"
"No, we are not, we are talking about the beings that pull their strings."
"Uh."
"Indeed. We have pulled you three together as we need a mighty host. You three in one place and one time is about the most we can risk, so you are it."
"What?"
"Prince Elric, when you took up that sword you became a Champion for the cause of the Grey Lords, whether you were made aware of that or no. There is one such Champion in each given universe. Putting two of you together is dangerous, three is tempting the gods. And still the Lords did not dare to go with less."
"So what do you need us to do?"
"Come inside my cabin, I think you could all stand some food. I will show you then."
Neustadt, Naggaroth
About two dozen men and women pulled on the ropes. By now they had learned to do it as a team, to pull at the same time and apply the same effort at both ropes. The triangular wall came up faster with every degree it gained to the vertical. A dozen teenagers stood ready with supports and hammers to keep the A-Frame house's front wall in place once it was up.
All of them were stocky and swarthy, all of them clad in threadbare clothes that barely kept the cold away and all wore a steel collar around their necks.
They were watched from a hill not too far off, a small group clustered around a man with the figure of a bear and enough lines in his face to make a map. At his side a diminutive woman clad in furs held a case for the binox and a thermos bottle.
Torsten Breitkop and Ailish were the undisputed masters of their domain, or so it seemed.
"Think they will have finished tomorrow afternoon?"
"They`ll have a watertight enclosure, A-Frames are like that. Rest should take a bit longer. If they finish that they can partake in party, otherwise they need to keep at it."
"Seems a bit harsh."
"Dear, we are getting a metric shitload of Hung slaves in the middle of winter without much advance warning. If we do not build winter quarters for them in time they will freeze bigtime. We cannot put them in existing quarters, they are full as it is. And if I ask specialists who spend top credits for better quarters to share without compensation we get unrest. So these need to hustle. And they are lucky, I am getting flack enough already that I use so much labor to make better quarters. I currently head that off by telling whomever asks me that these nomads know nothing about work, need to be trained to do so and that we need to do it with something not critical. But the pressure is high and some of it has reached Malekith. I am keeping enough balls in the air as it is."
"I know Torsten, I know. They should really let you do your job, there is no one better at it."
"And that is part of the problem. More than one Dark Lord tries to copy what we do here and fails. And that makes these guys look bad and they do not like it. On top of that everyone wants advanced weapons, if you do not have it and your neighbors do, you are in deep shit. Not to forget that Malus Darkblade goes through the stuff we make like shit through the goose. Yes, he keeps all the Hung and assorted chaotics at arms length, but he really builds up his army while he is doing it. If I were Malekith I'd be careful."
"He will be, for sure."
"So what do we do now?"
"I think I had enough fresh air for now. I need to go through some stuff, we need to cook up your next report for Urglith Jerres and then we can rest. And yes, I will take some time for you the next days, no matter what."
