Chapter 7
The Long March
Archaon turned his hulking body to face his challengers, bodies lay strewn all around him, he was covered in blood and gore, the snow was stained red around where he stood. With a cry he charged forward disembowelling one soldier and decapitating another with one mighty sweep of the slayer of kings. U'zuhl cackled uncontrollably within its confines, glad to be amongst death and destruction once again. Screaming dark oaths he charged forwards into the thick of the fighting with no regard for the safety of himself or his own troops. The mighty sword swung left and right in terrible arcs, each time bodies flew into the air, he was a killing machine, cold and uncompromising as the snow around him.
Archaon laughed as the men of the empire turned to fall back, way from him and his terrible powers yet there was no escape. Terrible daemons stalked the night, seductive serpent like women with snipping claws that lured men in with evil promises before beheading them there were huge men with terrible diseases, rotting flesh hung off them and diseased innards were clearly visible, they were constantly followed by swarms of flies that attacked any soldiers that came close enough, crawling up their nostrils and under their eyes.
Bellowing thanks to his terrible gods he charged forward once again, laughing with glee as he felled yet more of the empire soldiers. At last there came a call from the night and Archaon listened intently. "Rally to me, to me! To me, valiant men, to me!" The call came loud and clear and Archaon set off in search of the voice for if he killed this man then surely the rest of the army would follow. At length Archaon found the one he was looking for, a stout old man, in priests' clothes and carrying a large war hammer. He rode atop a great white horse and continued to yell for his men even as Archaon came towards him. With a terrible roar Archaon barrelled into the man and his horse, knocking the horse over and mortally wounding it. The great white animal fell to the floor, crushing its priest rider from the waist down. The man lay on the snow helplessly staring upwards at the dark, fiery shape that towered above him. "Please, please…" The old man moaned, "I will give you anything, anything you want! You may have riches beyond wildest dreams…"
"No." Said Archaon simply and brought the slayer of kings down on the old mans frail neck, cleaving his head from his shoulders. The moustached head rolled along the ground to Archaon's feet. Screaming his victory he brought an iron clad foot down upon it and laughed a demonic laugh, for he was victorious.
As soon as the grand theoginist died the empire soldiers began to lose their resolve, almost all led from the battlefield until only isolated pockets of resistance were left. Archaon left those for his troops to have their fun; he had more important things to take care of. "Melekh?" He called and within seconds the bright robed magician was beside him as he walked. "Yes my lord?" He said.
"Kill off the remaining troops and then rally the men into units. Tell them to pack everything they need into bags, we set off in the next few hours."
"Where are we going?"
"We march on Middenheim."
"So soon?"
"The winds of chaos blow in our favour, we must press home our advantage before they have time to react. Middenheim will burn within the week."
The great crowd stretched across the plaza like a sea of bodies, it went on as far as the eye could see, down to the filthy river Reik where many stood up to ankle deep in the sewage ridden water just to get a glimpse of Valten, their saviour. Valten stood, like an ant in comparison to the huge crowd that had gathered to hear him speak, on a small podium at the head of the crowd. Fanatical cries of devotion came up from the crowd, people packed into every available space, hanging off lampposts, leaning out of windows and many poorer denizens had decided to rent out the roof space of their houses for people to sit and get an almost perfect view of the proceedings.
"I can't do it," Said Valten turning to Luthor, "There are too many people."
"Nonsense," Said Luthor with a grin, "Just act natural, anyways you can't not go out there now or there'll be riots!"
"I suppose," Said Valten. Slowly he stepped out onto the hastily erected platform. Gulping he looked across the massive crowd each man, women and child completely silent ready to hear him speak. "People of the empire…" he said, and a massive cheer erupted from the crowd. Damn it! Thought Valten, if I cursed them all to hell they'd still cheer! "I do not want your respect… I do not want your hopes on my shoulders! I am but a man, for what can I do against the million strong horde that is rolling towards us at this very moment…" Muffled applause from the crowd. An imperial scribe lent onto the side of the stage and handed Valten a small piece of paper with a pre-prepared speech written on it. He made cutting motions with his hand as he did so. Taking the script Valten took it and threw it across the podium and into the crowd. Turning his attentions back to them he continued unperturbed.
"My people..." he said to indignant looks from Karl Franz, "I wish to give you nothing but the truth. Be under no illusions… we are losing this war." Great gasps from the crowd but the young man carried on nonetheless. "The enemy has already sacked Kislev, its inhabitants lie dead or dying," Hushed whispers and worried looks arose from the crowd.
"Archaon's army is great and strong but those who wish to aid your world and fight for freedom, I call to you now! All men over twenty and younger than forty, meet me on the plains by the great gate by noon tomorrow and we will march to defend Middenheim, you are not obliged to attend but I implore you, heed my call and fight for what you believe!"
With that a great roar erupted from the crowd and Valten left the stage with a triumphant look on his face. "I pledge two thousand stout dwarves to your cause," came a voice from behind Valten. He turned to see Thorgrim Grudgebearer standing behind him, book of grudges still in hand. "Long may the alliance of dwarfs and men stand solid as a rock." With that he turned and walked slowly out of sight.
Valten went over to the corner and collapsed into the wicker chair. Suddenly as if by magic Tyrion appeared beside him. "The isle of Ulthuan pledges one thousand highly skilled swordsmen and five hundred of our greatest cavalry in your hour of need. Now my brother and I must return to the emerald isle for great plans have been set in motion and we must play our part. With a blinding flash Teclis appeared by Tyrion. "Goodbye Valten," The elf mage said, "When you arrive," He smiled slightly; "I think you will find a pleasant surprise."
"Goodbye Teclis."
"Now brother, I shall be with you in a minute I just have to find Karl." With a click of his magical fingers a great shimmering golden gate appeared out of nowhere. It hovered a few inches of the ground, a cold wind blasted through it blowing Tyrion long flowing hair back into his face. The gate opened to an image of a pale blue sky with infrequent misty clouds and immediately Tyrion stepped through it and disappeared. With that the magical gate seemed to implode upon itself getting smaller and smaller until it completely disappeared into thin air. As if this was completely normal Teclis then strode of in search of The emperor.