Chapter 2
The encroaching storm
Six months later Valten stood on a rocky mountain plateau, scanning in all directions. He stood bare-chested, despite the bitter cold, and carried the composure of a man far beyond his years. Standing nearly a foot taller than any man he had ever known, still only 19, Valten was as strong as any adult man. He stood with a look of iron resolution on his face, his long dark, shaggy hair coming down past his collar. His olive brown skin bore the scars of many battles, a testament to his strength and endurance. But the most remarkable thing about Valten was the mark he bore upon his chest. Emblazoned on his bare chest as if by branding was the mark of Sigmar, an ornately drawn twin tailed comet. The mark had been there since his birth and many believed that was a sure sign of his divinity.
In his hands he carried a huge glittering war hammer, Ghal Maraz, literally, splitter of skulls, in the ancient dwarf language. It was the ancient hammer of Sigmar and bore the double lion crest of his nobility, each lion reaching forwards as if to devour whoever the hammer struck. Valten was the new chosen and thus carried this ancient and deadly weapon. He stood staring at the horizon.
To the south lay the harsh snow covered lands of Kislev and the border kingdoms. Here the terrain was also desolate, it was too cold for most plants and the land lay empty for several miles until the walled city of Kislev itself was just visible through the fog on the horizon.
The jagged rocks of the chaos wastes spanned out before him as far as he could see. They stuck out like sharp hands, ready to take the unwary to their death. The sky was blood red broken up only by patches of gloomy grey clouds. Over towards where the sun should have been setting a huge mass of fog, and dark loomed out of the desolation. It had been there for several weeks, slowly encroaching on the domain of men and other creatures, soon it would be here eating away at the spirits of the defenders of the world of light and order.
The storm was but the first step, the preparation for the giant invasion that would follow, one gigantic mass of Evil, rolling towards the opposite pole of the world, consuming everything in its wake. If it succeeded in its purpose the world would be ruined, all the land red with blood and tainted with foul energies, a swirling vortex of chaos where the normal laws of physics and reality did not apply. Valten knew, no army could stop its terrible power, no one could. Yes it could be defeated for a while but it would come back as sure as time went by. The eternal battle of chaos and order could never be truly won.
This was abnormal though. Already Valten heard whispers, of Dark prophecies and evil champions, of children born with strange mutations, beast men gathering in the forests of the empire and other abnormal events. Most of it was rumours and hearsay but one name he found consistently. Archaon, lord of the end of time. This troubled Valten extremely, since his youth he had dreamt of a man of fire sweeping through the world destroying time itself. He sincerely hoped his dream was not prophetic. In it Valten always died in a climatic battle with the man of fire but succeeded in saving the world from a terrible fate.
"Lord Valten?" Said a voice from behind him.
"Valten." He replied. "I am no more of a lord than anyone here." He gestured at the small group of armoured Reiklander swordsmen huddled together on the edge of the plateau. "I am merely Valten." He finished.
"Valten." Said the voice. "Night approaches fast and evil things lurk in this part of the world." The man who spoke was Luther Huss, priest of Sigmar and self appointed high guardian of Valten. He was short and round but well muscled with a wizened old face. He had a flowing white moustache and a small amount of grey stubble on his chin. He too carried a war hammer, but it bore no significant history.
"Put your faith in me." Said Valten, turning to Huss. "I will protect you." As such it was only half hearted attempt to make Valten leave as Luther was beginning to feel the cold.
Luther didn't really expect anything dangerous to turn up and even if it did it would be in no danger. In a skirmish with some goblins a year or two ago Luther had seen Valten take a spear through the chest from a wolf rider going full pelt. He was astonished to see, several minutes later Valten stand up, pull the spear out of his chest and throw it like a javelin into the head of the goblin it came from.
It was based on feats such as this that Huss placed such utter faith in Valten's divinity. Unfortunately many of the empires most prominent citizens did not see it this way. If they felt threatened, were jealous or just plain didn't belief his story Luther dint know, but he did know he had to convince someone to publicly support Valten before it was too late and the tides of Chaos razed the empire to the ground.
Luther snapped out of his thoughts in an instant, Valten was careering towards him at full speed, before he knew it he had been knocked halfway across the plateau. With an almighty crash a dazzling fireball flew through and impacted into the ground, creating a huge crater and charring the rock around it. The men behind Luther all drew their swords and advanced slowly towards the crater.
In them middle was a charred, smoking body. Luther looked closer and retched at the stench of the burnt flesh. He knew it was Valten long before he saw Kharaz-a Karak lying next to the hideously burnt corpse. Yet even as Huss watched, the pain welling in his heart, the charred flesh began to heal, remarkably the burnt and blacken skin was soon slowly being replaced with new as though knitted by some unseen hands. Huss smiled yet it was soon replaced with despair as he heard another fireball falling down towards where Valten was lying helplessly. If it hit its target, not even Valten would survive.
Suddenly Luther grabbed a shield from one of the gaping soldiers and threw it like a frisbee across Valten's healing body. It worked, the wooden shield was completely destroyed by the fireball but the small disc of wood had managed to deflect the bulk of the power and flames onto itself. Not one flame touched Valten as he lay.
Quickly Luther looked up scanning the sky for the source of the fireball. Hovering several meters in the air, leathery wings beating rhythmically, stood a horrific monster. 10 foot tall it had blood red and ornate bronze armour. It arms were muscular and strong and its legs resembled those of a goat, with black cloven feet. Its head was beast like with razor sharp teeth in his gaping maw. It had horns and it held a huge bronze axe in one hand and a massive, cruel looking whip in the other. Saliva dripped down from its mouth and splattered on the rocks, slowly dissolving them into a pool of bubbling red acid. Huss hefted the hammer in his hands and prepared to fight.
Somewhere within his broken body, Valten stirred. The dream came every time he allowed his eyes to close so he rarely allowed himself to sleep. It always started the same… A lonely figure stood on the hillside wreathed in mist which chilled him to the bone. Shadows grew all around him yet the man did not once flinch or think to run away. Then at once the figure turned. He waved at Valten his eyes filled with joy and a happy grin on his face. Valten took few steps forward but suddenly a dark shape reared up from behind the man. It would have been invisible were it not for the mist. Then it happened, the huge shape became a monstrous man made of fire. Its eyes burned like the depths of hell itself, its body glistened like a furnace. The man gazed at Valten a look of confusion on his tender face. Valten tried to shout out in warning but nothing came out, there was nothing he could do. Transfixed he watched as the man of fire stood up behind his friend and clove him in two with one sweep of his mighty hand. The mist slowly seeped into Valten's clothes, the man advanced with it. Change.
Valten landed squarely in the middle of a muddy road. Altdorf, he guessed although he couldn't be sure. Buildings were burning all around him casting flickering flames up into the night sky. Men in armour as black as midnight ran past him, cursing in an unknown tongue. From time to time frightened people ran past, screaming for their life. Suddenly a hysterical woman holding a baby ran towards him. She tripped up and landed face first in them mud and dirt. The baby began to scream and kick around inside its swaddle. She picked it up and held it tight to her chest. Turning she saw the black shape that loomed out behind her. Valten tried to move but this time he was successful. He careered forward, trying to save the woman and her baby. He hit the woman full force but he got a strange feeling in his stomach and rebounded back away as if he had hit and invisible wall. Blood matted his forehead yet he did not care for himself only for the safety of the woman and her child. Again and again he tried to reach them but no avail. Slowly he sank back down into the mud and shed a silent tear as once again the creature struck and mother and baby both fell in a bloody heap. Change.
Valten landed once again in the muddy street but it was not as he had left it moments before. All the buildings were ruined, rubble lined the streets. Valten suddenly noticed the bodies. Hundreds upon hundreds of bodies were piled up in the middle of the street. They lay in odd piles, dismembered arms and legs lay everywhere, broken bones sticking out at strange angles. Young and old. Weak and strong. None had been spared the slaughter. Valten tried to stand up. Once again he was successful. He saw a large silver war hammer lying next to him. He did not know why but as he always did in the dream he picked it up. Hefting it in his hands he advanced slowly down the street, skulls and body parts crunching and squelching under his boots. Suddenly, as he knew it would, the huge man of fire appeared behind the mound of corpses, its body resplendent against the grey sky. Valten looked up at it, fire in his own eyes. "Come and take me." He shouted. The words flowed out like he was reciting something he had learned long ago. Whosever words they were they were not Valten's alone. The man of fire stared down for a few seconds. "I am Archaon, Lord of the end of time." It bellowed, tremendous volumes of noise spewed forth with every syllable, bricks and tiles tumbling from the few buildings still standing. Valten's teeth rattled, yet still he stood firm.
"I know who you are." Said the man who was yet was not Valten. "Yet today the slaughter ends, today you die. Let us end this battle once and for all!"
The demon man began to laugh, the ground shook.
Valten charged forward, mounting the pile of bodies in a single leap he swung the hammer in a massive arc, the demon roared in pain and fell to its knees. Again Valten struck his hammer crashing into the demons stomach. Again and again Valten struck the beast, hammer blows raining down upon its stomach. Filled with hatred Valten would not relent for a second, his body simply would not allow him to give one inch to the murderous beats of chaos. Suddenly a huge black rip appeared on the beast's skin spewing forth arcane energy. The rip widened, splitting the beast in two, it screamed a terrible scream as wind ripped at Valten cutting him badly, yet still he stood, still he watched. Finally the beast roared one last time and it exploded outwards blackness covering everything, blocking out the sun. Valten flew through the air, limbs lifeless and limp, but he was blissfully unaware of his own death. Somewhere in his broken mind Valten's eyes slowly began to open.