Chapter 5

Siege of Kislev

Archaon sat atop Dorghar, his demonic steed on the snow covered hill and savoured the smell of death and blood that pervaded the air around him. Archaon himself had changed dramatically since his days as a young priest of Sigmar, he know stood about six feet tall and wore a huge suit of black armour, adorned with heretical symbols and spikes. He carried in his hand the cruel sword, Slayer of Kings inside of which was bound the great demon U'zuhl. On top of his black helmeted head he wore his latest acquisition, the lopsided Crown of Dominion. Smoke drifted up from the buildings around the foot of the hill and Archaon laughed as he saw several frightened citizens of Kislev run screaming form their burning homes only to be brutally chopped down by the black clad warriors that stalked around in the snow. It had been six months since he vanquished the bloodthirster in the first shrine to Chaos in the world's edge mountains. The epic fight had been long, hard and bloody but Archaon in the end prevailed and gained his prize, the sorceorous crown of Domination.

The sounds of fighting and burning met his ears as his army mopped up the only Kislevites that stayed out of the relative safety of the walls of Kislev proper once his huge hoard had virtually annihilated the meagre Kislev defences. Before him stretched the city itself, huge and uncompromising, grey and brown in contrast to the white of the ground and the blizzard that had raged all through the short battle. Slowly Archaon pulled his gaze away from the carnage and strode up the hill to gaze upon his army. As he reached the summit he realised for the first time, the full extent and size of his magnificent army. The great Chaos host stretched for miles before him innumerable camp fires shining like stars in the sea of white that covered everything. The great war machines that were camped towards the back of the army stood up, resplendent against the grey horizon. The great engines of war, supplied in return for fresh slaves, were designed and built by Chaos Dwarves from the north. Pride of the army was the great Hellcannon. As big as a small building, it fired a huge warpstone chunk powerful enough to destroy anything it was fired at, and being warpstone any ground it touched would instantly become fallow and anything that lived or worked near where it had hit would be hideously mutated over time until they degenerated into some hideous half lifeform, a gloopy mass of jelly and bone.

Looking around Archaon spied one of his four lieutenants Melekh flying around the assembled army on top of a hovering disc. The disc was blue and covered in sharp spines; the mage could summon it and dismiss it to and from the warp whenever he wanted.

"Melekh!" Archaon called and the flying disc turned and sped its way back towards the snowy ridge where Archaon stood, the plumes smoke from the burning buildings rising high into the air behind him. The disc hovered over and slowed down for its master to step off onto the cold snow. The disc hovered for a minute before Melekh turned and dismissed it with a click of his fingers. A huge black space appeared behind it, as though a rip had appeared in the fabric of reality, the blue demon was sucked screaming back into the warp.

When he had finished Melekh turned to Archaon and he studied the great mage carefully. He was of average height and slim build and wore a long flowing bleu robe, adorned with many multi coloured patterns that constantly shifted positions. His head was the most striking thing about him; he had long blond hair that came down to his shoulders and instead of a nose he had a long orange beak. Many people had asked about how he got this and they usually ended up with one themselves or even worse mutations, depending on Melekh's mood. "Hello, your wish, my Lord?" He chittered. His eyes glinted with malice and unspoken truths as he talked giving him an air of mysteriousness that most people found threatening. Archaon's relationship with Melekh was a strange one; he had found him a few decades previously whilst searching for one of his artefacts. He had been outcast from his village because of his strange nose and when Archaon first saw him he knew he would one day become a powerful sorcerer. Sensing his power Archaon offered to take him under his wing as an apprentice. Melekh gratefully accepted having no home, no food and no clothes save those on his back. In the few decades that had passed Melekh had developed into a powerful sorcerer in his own right and Archaon knew, due to Melekh's chosen path, that should the opportunity arise the Tzentchian sorcerer would betray him without batting an eyelid. But for the moment he was a powerful if slightly mistrusted ally.

"What are spirits within camp?" Archaon demanded.

"The troops are getting restless sir, they need to spill some human blood, it's what they were born to do." Melekh replied.

"How many prisoners do we have?"

"At last count two thousand Sir."

"Good, give a thousand to the troops and tell the they are theirs to do with what they wish." Archaon said finally.

"With respect sir the army contains over one hundred thousand troops, I don't think one thousand humans will satisfy their…. urges."

"Well then, we launch an attack. Tomorrow at dawn. We will march at Kislev and raze it to the ground. Then our troops will have all the sport they need."

"Are you sure that is wise sir?"

"Well, the defenders are already demoralised; they may have enough supply to last months for all we know and that's enough time for the empire to marshal an army against us and I don't need that right now. So, we attack Kislev tomorrow. Ready the troops and get the archers and the Hellcannon up here. Lets hope that this blizzard will have stopped by tomorrow."

The attack on Kislev proper was launched the following day, it was brutal, bloody and efficient. The chaos war engines pounded the ancient city's walls with projectiles turning them to dust within a few hours, flaming arrows too rained down upon the buildings and as midday approached the great city was in flames, a great pillar of smoke rising into the frosty air, a warning signal to the rest of the Empire, Archaon, Everchosen of chaos had arrived.

Archaon smiled wickedly and gave the order to enter the burning city; the survivors were rounded up into groups, their meagre possessions looted. Many burned to death, trapped inside their wooden houses, fire spread easily along the dry timber house rows. Those strong enough to work would be taken as prisoners, the rest would be massacred and die a bloody death. Gangs of black clad warriors roamed the streets looking for fresh victims, raping and pillaging as they went. Kislev had become hell on earth, only death awaited all those in the city.

As the sun once again, began to set behind the horizon, casting long bloody shadows over a long and terrible day, every single inhabitant of Kislev was either dead or working in forced labour camps. The city itself had been burnt to the ground, razed to rubble and everything of value in the city, stolen or burned.

Yet even as night fell, and the flames of Kislev flickered in the sky like a midnight sun, the Empire had not given up hope. Archaon stood atop a pile of fresh skulls, picked clean by the ravenous snow wolves that roamed the snowy plains of Kislev and the north. Booming his voice across the plain he addresses the assembled warriors, flames sparkling off his armour like a furnace, smoke wrapping around him like a mystical cloak. "Legions of Chaos," he roared, and the crowd whipped into frenzy, shouting and screaming dark prayers to their gods. "We have victory!" He paused and a massive cheer erupted from the crowd, a cheer so loud it shook the earth itself. "Come let us enjoy the spoils, for step one is complete, the forces of Chaos will be victorious!" Another humongous cheer and Archaon stepped down from the pile of skulls.

"Sir I bring bad news," A skinny, rag clad boy approached Archaon and bowed deeply into the snow. "May I have permission to tell you it?"

Archaon nodded slowly.

"A massive army approaches from the south, led by the grand theognist himself, they will be upon us within the hour."

"How large?"

"Almost as big as are own sir, at least one hundred thousand troops," the boy replied

Archaon roared with anger and brought the slayer of kings down upon the boys head, chopping it from his shoulders. Blood stained the snow red as the head rolled own to Archaon's feet he kicked it aside and one again stood up on the makeshift skull podium.

"My army, once again…" He shouted. The crowd turned and face him; they were in the palm of his gauntleted hand. "We must prepare for war!" The biggest cheer of the rally rose up from the crowd as they screeched, hollered and raised weapons and fists in preparation for battle. "The army of the grand theognist approaches; we must fight this new enemy and show the rest of the world the true power of Chaos!" Screamed Archaon to another humungous cheer. Suddenly shouting and the sounds of fighting erupted from the back of the huge crowd, screams, and the sound of horses neighing. "Melekh?" Archaon shouted for his lieutenant. "Go see what is going on back there."

"Certainly sir," The brightly robed wizard chittered. With a click of his fingers the spiny blue disc appeared once more, Melekh mounted it, and flew off into the night. Archaon waited as the sound of even worse fighting erupted to the south of the group. The assembled warriors began to look around nervously wondering what to do. Sensing the anxiety, Archaon shouted. "Wait here!" and all chatter stropped immediately. "Come on Melekh you beak nosed fool," Archaon muttered under his breath. At once as if he could read Archaon's thoughts the shiny blue disc shot across the black sky and stopped feet in front of Archaon. Melekh was panting, and his bright cloak was stained with blood. "Not good news my lord…" he panted. "The enemy is upon us already, the army of the grand theognist is right behinds us…we're trapped."