What those mongrels see in this land? There is only ice and snow. They live in harsh conditions, die painfully and meaninglessly, only prolonging the inevitable.
White bird flew towards the South, carefully looking for any sign of human settlement.
Their bodies are so fragile, their souls are flawed, easy to tempt. What chance do they have against the will of the Gods?
Bird chuckled, finally seeing lights of the houses.
And yet, they decide to stay here, and defy true rulers of this world.
It lowered its flight to get a better view. If his master is, as always, correct, She will be here.
'
- Steady, take the wind into the account. – Percival said, and Ciri carefully aimed with the pistol towards the empty bottle on the stake.
Seconds later, she pulled the trigger, white smoke flew from the gun, and bullet missed the bottle.
- Can those things be more accurate? – Ciri examined the pistol in her hand.
- Don't know, I don't make them. – Percival shrugged his arms. – I only know how to maintain them.
- It may be useful, if it finally hits something. But sword never misses.
- There are some things here you don't want to engage in sword fight. – Percival said. – Like charging Khornite Berserker.
- Or Troll! – Witold added.
- Or Troll. – Percival agreed. – One gun may badly hurt them, but one hundred guns firing armor-piercing bullets at once… You get the idea.
- I think I do. – Images from her various travels flew through her mind, like it wanted to prove destructive capabilities of the firearms.
- Not to mention it is easier to train a recruit to fire gun straight than spending years training them with swords.
- Then why those Norscans are still problem to Kislev? From what you said earlier, they don't use gunpowder weapons, and rely on pure strength. You should easily stop any of their charges.
- Not that easy. – Percival disagreed. – First, they have vile sorcery protecting them, allowing them to survive even storms of bullets. Second are their beasts, which are quite resilient. Add that they are ignoring pain and a lack of fear and you get absolute menace.
- So you must engage them in melee at some point? – Ciri asked, and continued after receiving a agreeing nod from Percival. – Have you ever thought adding gun to the sword? That way, you would have both ranged and melee weapon.
Hearing this, both Percival and Witold genuinely laughed, and Ciri raised an eyebrow.
- Combining sword and gun? – Percival said, still laughing. – That just ridiculous!
- I can imagine it! – Witold laughed at the mere image of it.
- It would be too heavy to wield.
- Uncomfortable.
- And impractical.
- So, are you saying in Kislev nobody thought about making hybrid weapon? – Ciri asked.
- Of course we thought, combination of the gun and axe proved to be useful. – Percival answered, this time making Ciri laugh, much to his surprise.
- Ohh, nothing! – Ciri said seeing his surprised face.
- Percival! Witold! – trio heard Zuza's voice approaching.
- Aunt Zuza! – Witold weaved to her, and Zuza smiled to the boy.
- They are returning!
- Who is returning?
- Father and Mother! – Witold jumped out from his seat and rushed to the village.
'
- Keep moving. – Thormis ordered his warband, forcing his own horse to move through the snowstorm.
- But Chief, we are exhausted, our horses are on a verge of collapse – one warrior argued. – We must…
- Slow down? – Thormis turned around on his horse. – Make a camp? Near border of enemy territory? For what, to kindly ask them to share meat? We need to move as far as possible, before they notice.
- Fuckin Rotbloods. – One warrior spit out on the snow. – Fuckin avalanche, and fuckin gods forsaken wyrm!
- We lost eight men already because of these – bearded warrior stated. – Gods are clearly against us!
- Or they simply cull the weak! – Thormis yelled. – End your gabbling, or you will join them faster!
All of his warriors clunched their fists in rage, but they couldn't do much, they followed orders of their warchief, eager to finally leave this part of Norsca.
After Frost Wyrms attack five days ago, Thromis wanted to pass through the "Path of the Gods", where friendly tribe reside. Or resided, because they founded Norscans from Rotblood tribe patrolling the area. Those Crow worshipping fools were no match for the skilled warriors of the Skealings, however, their strength lay not in their combat prowess, but in the contingencies, which they carried within their bodies.
Last thing Thormis wanted is fight with another tribe, which could cost him even more men, and also allow even a possibility of catching one of the Nurgle's "gifts", so he decided to pass through the mountain range known as "Glass-Ice Pass"
Mountains made of hardened ice and snow were mostly uninhabited by men of the North, due to lack of resources, animals and stable ground. This, along with harsh conditions, such as freezing wind, which lashed against a skin like a Slanneshi hellscourge, made this terrain unclaimed by neighboring tribes. This also meant that nobody will notice group of sixteen men using this path during the snowstorm. And it could not only shorten the groups journey, but also avoid other hostiles, such as Sarls.
If they survive.
- Do not stop. – Thormis ordered again. – If your horse die, leave it for the ice trolls and continue walking on foot.
Unbeknownst to them, from nearby mountain made of ice, two figures watched them closely – one short covered in white robes, and second large and bloated, wearing heavy, but very rusty and partly corroded, metal armor.
- As I said. – hooded figure said to the Chaos champion.
- How did they know about the sword? – Warrior spoke his thoughts loudly, surprised by this sudden development.
- Nurgloth will be unhappy, if you lose his prize. – Hooded figure stated, causing chaos champion to growl in rage.
- I don't need some old fool to remind me of my duties! – he proclaimed. – We only came here in search for of the Bone Blade, sacrificed many, fought against other tribes just to get closer to it. And I won't let anyone snatch it away from my fingers.
- Perhaps returning for more warriors would be wise. – hooded figure said. – These don't look like weaklings. And what if Malachion is nearby?
- I have enough warriors to crush both of these fools. – Champion started walking towards his camp. – And I know exactly how to deal with them.
Hooded figure looked over the leaving champion, and chuckled.
- Those idiots are even easier to trick than I thought. – He removed his hooded revealing his golden feathers instead of hair. – The stage is almost set.
After saying that, projection of the Golden Demon faded away, leaving only a small flicker of golden light behind.
'
White Raven landed on the roof of the tallest building in a village, and watched the scene unfolding just under him.
Whole village started gathering in center, bringing tables and benches, like they are preparing for some sort of a feast.
Are they seriously gathering to have fun? Raven thought, feeling their emotions flowing like a river. They have nothing to celebrate, my Master planned their doom millennia ago.
When everything was ready, all people gathered at the entrance of the village and stood in silence, awaiting something.
Hope. Raven inhaled those emotions with passion. Hope for the future? Hope to see their loved ones again… Master only understands a little of it. Raven dwelled into this river of feelings, so naive, yet genuine. He patrons hope, but he never…
New presence hit him like raging Stonehorn. If previous emotions were comparable to river, this one was like a flood, overwhelming raven's mind in moment when he lowered his guard. With quite screech, he lost his balance and fell from the building into the pail of snow.
- Hurry! – Witold yelled, running as fast as possible towards the small crowd – I don't want to miss them!
- We are right behind you little Cossar! – Percival said out loud, and turned to Ciri – In Wyjchera, we always welcome our boys and girls back home, when they return from their duty.
- Wholesome tradition. – she said. – And I assume you want to also give the dead a collective goodbye?
- Aye. – Percival nodded. – We cherish those, who live, and mourn those, who passed.
- I see them! – Someone from the crowd yelled, and all people showed various reactions – many prayed to Ursun, Dazh, Salyk or all three at the same time, some tried to perceive the silhouettes of their loved ones while children, including Witold, eagerly jumped in place, ready to hug their parents. But Ciri noticed some people, who were looking under their feet, trying to hide their faces, to not show sign of sadness. She saw Oswald, who stand behind the crowd, clutching his fists. Curios, Ciri turned to see face of her host, who, despite looking happy, in comparison to others seemed emotionless. Suddenly, she heard… a song?
It's nothing that walk is so long.
Dazh will warm our souls.
You count your bullets, and think – that's my last three.
And one thing you know – you won't miss.
Roses like fire, Lilac blooms like snow,
No one is breaking, even when all go wrong,
We will cross hills, and drink from freezing ponds,
- Attention! Rota stop! – officer yelled, and whole unit halted. Then commander turned towards his warriors and took of his helmet.
- Great job Comrades! We survived our next deployment, this time mostly intact. – She said, causing commotion in the crowd. – Now, I discharge you from your service until next three months. As my last order, spent some quality time with your family. Understood?
- Sir yes Sir! – whole unit answered.
- Good. You are now off duty! – She saluted them, and they saluted her back, and she turned towards the crowd. – Now, I discharge myself as well. So, where are my boys?
- Mama! – two kids rushed first towards her, and pounced at her, making her fall into the snow, laughing all the way down.
Unit broke formation and rushed to embrace their families after so long, soon soldiers and villagers mixed, and Wyjchera was reunited once more.
- I see you grew a little, little brother! – Bearded warrior approached Bernard.
- Only a little Brother. – Bernard embraced him – It's good that you are back Kazi.
- You really thought those Northman could kill me? – Kazi shook his head, and both laughed.
- Bartosz, Igor, Fedor… - Percival counted them quietly. – Yep, all returned. Although some injured, but still.
Ciri noticed that although Percival tried to look like being as happy as the rest of the village, he tries to hide something behind this "mask". With corner of her eye she saw Oswald walking away towards his house, but the answer for unspoken question came from Witold.
At first, he was as happy as other children, looking around for his loved ones, but after a while, his smile diminished, only to disappear entirely. While other villagers celebrated, he stood alone.
Ciri knelt near him, and looked at the same direction as he.
- They didn't come. – Witold said, and Ciri again felt that strange aura emanating from him, this time more intense as before.
- Perhaps they stayed behind.
- Yes. Yes! That's right! They stayed in Erengrad! – Witold's colours returned – They await me, right granpapa?
- They are remaining in Erengrad. – Percival nodded. – They are.
- We will visit them soon! – Witold proclaimed in excitement. – We meet in the Erengrad!
- Alright people, time to feast! – Leader of the soldiers proclaimed, and small crowd started making their way towards the center of the village. Witold started to run with the crowd, but stoped when he noticed that Ciri and Percival didn't move even an inch.
- We will join, just the moment. – Ciri said before child could ask, and after Witold nodded and run away to the center, she turned towards Percival, whose face was grim and unmoving like stone.
- They are dead, aren't they?
Percival remained silent for few moments, before nodding slightly.
- And He doesn't know?
- I tried to tell him, but each time… I couldn't do it.
- When it happened?
- Exactly the day of his first birthday. – Percival answered. – Norscans under the command of the Butcher and his son raided the Erengrad. Defenders repelled them, but they paid heavy price to do it.
- I am sorry. – She said.
- I tell myself that belongs to the past and both I and Witold should already move on, but I still cannot… - He left a heavy sigh, not wanting to continue.
- We can never truly run from our past. – Ciri said – I know it to well. Also, accepting it as it is takes a lot of time.
- Aye. You should join the rest.
- You don't want to go?
- I am not in very good mood currently. – He said, scratching his chest, and trying to smile a little - I will just spoil the celebration.
Ciri wanted to say something, but strange feeling suddenly caught her. She looked around, but saw nothing, just piles of snow.
- Alright – She said. – I will look after Witold while you… You know.
- Thank you. – He nodded, and both went their separate ways. Shortly after that, raven's head burst from the snow.
How? He thought to himself while violently shaking his head to throw out the snow. How I lost conscious? Only powerful wizards could…
When he finally looked at Ciri's direction, his whole essence shook. His master warned him that she has potential but, by Changer, she is like a wildfire, luring all around to her, welcoming them to try and seize this might, only to burn them in the firestorm. Both magnificent, and terrifying.
But what scared Changeling the most is that her essence reacted to him, overwhelmed him. Just like in all demons of the Changer, paranoia took its hold.
Did she notice me and attacked me? Does she know what changer plan is? Her power is crude, but there is a chance…
He looked at the village, this time promising them not a mere observation, but violence.
Okay, I will play. He launched into the air, and started to circle around the village to find the perfect candidate for simple test.
'
Horse suddenly collapsed under his rider, sending Skealing on the ground.
- Hrogar! – one of the warriors said and jumped from his horse to help his companion.
- Hold! – Thormis yelled, stopping whole group. – What happened?
- Hrogar horse is exhausted Chief! – Warrior quickly responded while helping his ally stand.
- Did horse break something?
- No, but long journey and weather took its toll.
- Soon all our horses will fall too. – Bearded warrior with javelins approached the leader. – We need to stop, at least for some time.
- You know the risk Throgar. – Thormis stated, and warrior nodded.
- If we continue, we will find ourselves without horses. – Thogar argued.
After seconds of silence, Thormis nodded in agreement.
- One hour, and we move. You may make a small campfire. – He said, and whole group, now overjoyed, jumped out from their steeds and prepared a camp.
Soon, fifteen warriors sat around a small fire while Thormis stood on guard, eating some of their supply, while horses sat on their bellies to regain some strength after a long journey. Although wind blowed like crazy and large canyon was jest few meters away from them, they were confident.
- This meat tastes way better than those good-for-nothing southlanders food. – One Norscan stated while taking large bite from prepared mammoth's meat.
- Only because you are hungry Uril. – Another warrior said, also taking another bite from his portion. – Southlanders are weak willed and pathetic but their food is not.
- Are you becoming a follower of Southlander's kitchen Yrgul? – Hrogar asked, causing few laughs from his fellows.
- I am not saying their food is better, I am stating a fucking obvious! – Yrgul shouted back.
- We need to one day raid them far deeper, to the land of the half-man. – Uril proposed. – From what I heard, they are the best cooks in the world.
- That's sounds like an idea for the future, right chief? – Throgar said to Thormis, who stood few meters away, watching the surroundings. After receiving no response, Thorgar sighed and walked towards their leader, still holding one of his javelins.
- We are wasting time. – Thormis stated while Throgar approached.
- You know we can't march all day. – warrior countered. – As a Hunter I will tell you again – "patience is a key to successful hunt."
- We are not on the hunt Throgar. We are in the middle of the enemy territory.
- More like in the middle of the storm, which covers our movement. Tell me Brother, you are not frustrated that we are near foes and you wish to avoid them. It is something else.
Thormis said nothing, slowly turning his head left to right and right to left.
- I never understood your goal. – Thorgar said. – Even after we became Blood-Sworn. You are a Knight Ripper, slew countless foes and achieved many glories. And yet, you still look for more.
- It is not about Glory.
- Then what? Out of pride? Confidence?
- High Jarl gave me the task, and I will follow it to the latter.
- So duty it is. – Thorgar nodded – Have you ever thought that we are most likely to never reach our destination?
- But if we do, High Jarl will reward us accordingly.
- What he can give you? As you said, it is not about glory.
- None of your concern. – Thormis shut down the discussion and resumed his observation. Suddenly, he hold his stare, and hunter's own followed the direction. Without speaking another word, Hunter aimed and soon, javelin hit the pile of snow thirty meters away, which screamed in unexpected pain.
Soon, all heard the rumbling noise quickly approaching them.
- Spread out! – Knight Reaper yelled, and most of his warriors dispersed from the fire, but one was not quick enough and giant ball made of both ice and stone crushed into the camp, smashing the warrior and sending him screaming down the canyon.
- Take up your weapons and protect the horses! – Thormis yelled while pulling out his long sword. – Do not let them reach the horses!
When whole warband gathered their equipment, mostly axes and shields, they formed single, yet wide, wall of shields, behind which Thorgar with his javelins and Norscan armed with the throwing axes stood behind. On the right flank of the wall, two warriors with great axes stood, looking around for foes, while Thromis stood alone on the left side, wielding in his right long sword, and in left hand short sword. Behind this small "formation", Hrogar, Yrgul and Uril stood, their weapons thirsting for blood.
All looked around themselves, searching for any sign of movement in the snowstorm while wary for another dirty trick, such as one, which killed their fellow. For some time, they heard nothing at all, their foes approaching slowly and carefully, but their foul stench revealed Rotbloods presence. They were near. And there were many.
- GRANDFATHER! – The battle cry shook whole mountainside – ITS… MY…TIME!
Right after that, the horn blowed, ice mountains echoing with that, and from the snowy mist, shapes of the attackers appeared, rushing towards the warband with their weapons raised high. Few javelins flew towards the shield wall, but they either missed or failed to cause injuries, while warband's throwing axes and javelins brought death upon the approaching foes.
- Take out throwers first! – Thormis ordered before the rusty spear hit his armor, but not pierced it, breaking on impact. Growling, he raised his swords in preparation for the horde.
Many of the approaching marauders charged at the thin shield wall, hoping to break or push it back with one powerful blow, while some approached from the flanks, assuming that their sheer numbers will overwhelm duo on the right, and lone warrior on the left. In both regards, they greatly underestimated them.
Charging mass hit the shield wall with immense strength, but Skealing seasoned warriors didn't move even an inch. Soon their axes fell upon lightly armored marauders, severing their heads and arms from their torsos, while Rotblood's tried to pierce through their shields, or hurt their legs and heads with their rusty swords and axes. Those approaching the right side quickly found out why those two warriors guarding their comrades flank were called "Murder Twins". As for Thormis, Rotbloods committed a fatal mistake – they assumed that this lone warrior can be easily overwhelmed. Only when they got close realized that, unlike the rest of the warband, which wear mix of steel or fur, he was fully covered in heavy crimson steel, and his eyes shined in anticipation.
With powerful swing of his long sword, Thormis cut two charging warriors in half, sending their blood and innards everywhere, while his short sword cut through another marauder's face. He was smashing and killing all around himself, not letting anyone through his side, and pile of mutilated corpses soon started to arise around him, making a small wall, while blood started to form blackened pools. But his foes either didn't care about their loses, or they were too mindless to notice their comrades falling, still charging with incoherent battle cries in their mouths.
While stomping on the marauder who tripped and fell on the fresh blood, Thormis looked around and smiled – Charge halted.
- Smash them! – He yelled, and his three warriors with heavy weapons charged towards the shield wall. In moment of the great coordination and prowess, shield wall "opened", allowing some Rotbloods through, only for them to get quickly cut out by enraged berserkers.
Berserkers charged past the shield wall, butchering with their axes many foes while screaming their own battle cries.
- KILL! – Thormis yelled while cutting another marauder in half.
- MAIM! – His warband answered, pushing the shield wall forward, crushing some unlucky marauders.
- SLAY! - Hrogar cut another marauder, whose blood flew all around, but before he could turn around to face another foe, short dagger pierced his back. Enraged, he turned towards his enemy, grabbed his lower jaw and tore it out. Before Norscan could fall on the ground, not able to scream, Hrogar split his head in half with one strike from his axe. Suddenly, whistle could be heard, and metal spiked ball on the chain crushed Hrogar's head, sending berserker's dead body to the ground.
Thormis turned his head and growled in rage. From the snowstorm, Crow's heavy warriors arrived, wielding their giant axes and maces. Their rusty armor was covered with unwashed blood from their numerous battles, their horned helmets and plates covered in the symbols of the Chaos God Nurgle.
Among them, towering above other warriors stood Chaos champion. His armor, bloated and corroded, was probably still durable, and defiled symbols showed its origin as makeshift mix of robbed dwarven steel, and something else, because, although covered in blood and rust, some parts still shined, untouched by corruption. His helmet looked almost identical to the head of a giant fly. In his right hand he held large weapon, which southerners called "Morgenstren", while in his left he wielded flail with metal, spiked ball at the end, still covered in Hrogar's blood.
With champion's single command, another wave charged towards the group, this time marauders were not only wielding heavy weapons, but also partially armored, but spearhead of the assault comprised mostly from the Chaos warriors, while Yrgul and Uril charged at the chaos champion, determined to avenge their companion. Some part of Thormis brain whispered that this might be the day of his death, but he shrugged it off quickly. After all, he promised his High Jarl that he will find the destined woman, and he didn't plan to break his trust now.
Chaos warriors rapidly approached him, and Thormis raised his sword…
'
- …And I said "Taste this you son of a bitch!", and struck his head with my sword! – One of the Kislavite warriors showed his sword to the amazed crowd. – And all of the sudden, that sack of rot collapsed on the ground.
- You forget the part you smelled like shit for the next two weeks Tymon. – Another warrior raised his cup full of liquid. – You were forbidden to enter city gates, and slept in the barn outside the walls.
- Still better to smell like shit than to piss himself after seeing an ungor. – Tymon stated, taking large bottle.
- For the last fucking time, it wasn't an ungor! – Warrior threw his cup at Tymon, forcing him to duck down with cheeky smile on his face.
- Comrades, control yourself! – Another member of the feast called out to them. – We have kids here.
Tymon laughed seeing his colleague sat with anger, and raised high the glass bottle full of vodka.
- Alright, who want to share some stories!? – He asked, looking around.
- I want! – Woman with large ear cap waved to him, and soon bottle full of alcohol landed into her hands. She opened it and took few large gulps from the bottle.
- Ahhh, that's refreshing. – She said. – Reminds me of the story when we drank with the unexpected guest…
Some of the crowd listened to the stories from the front, many talked quietly with one another, their families and friends, trying to make up for the lost time.
- …And now, thanks to that unexpected encounter I found out that spear is my weapon of choice. – Bernard said to his brother. – I know you would prefer a sword, but…
- Nahh. – Kazimierz disagreed. – You use weapon you are most confident with. And that is very good news! – he rubbed his brother's head. – I am proud of you.
- One day, I will be able to join you in defense of our homeland. – Bernard picked up the bottle of beer. – I promise you that we will fight side by side.
- I crave for this day to come. – Kazimierz tried his best to hide how he truly feels about that, and he turned his head around just to change topic of the conversation. Until he finally noticed someone new. – Hey brother, who is she? – He asked, pointing at ashen-hair woman, who listened to the story about Bear Soldier with disbelief.
- Ciri? Percival found her outside the village during the snowstorm, and helped her.
- Alone in the snowstorm? Without a horse? In the middle of nowhere?
- Only her, if I recall correctly what Percy said.
- Don't you think isn't a little bit strange? – Kazimierz gave his brother a serious look.
- Well, old Oswald call her "witch", but you know why he is suspicious.
- Is he still grieving Ivan? After all those years?
- Nothing changed here. But the rest trust Percival. After all, he host her.
- Percival hardly allow anyone into his house. – Kazimierz shook his head in disbelief. – As far I know, he and Anna constantly argued over it.
- And yet, he allowed Ciri to stay for some time. From what Witold told me, she is, ekhem "Arari".
- Kids and their imagination. – Kazimierz again looked at Ciri, this time trying to examine her.
Although her appearance is as "normal" as every other human, Kazimierz, after his many years of service, learnt that for some monsters face is just another mask to shed when occasion for slaughter appears. Although she laugh, smile and drink with others, it might be yet another fraud.
While he was looking, Ciri suddenly turned towards him, her green eyes directly staring into his brown ones. Only now he noticed scar on her face, probably made by some sort of flail, but her quick reaction surprised him. He turned to his brother again.
- And what do you know about her?
- I? – Bernard replied with surprise, nearly choking on his drink.
- You talked with her, didn't you? – His brother continued. – Did she say anything to you?
- Well…I…
Kazimierz waited for an answer, but after few seconds, Bernard dropped his head.
- I… tried to talk with her, but I…
- You lack a courage, don't you?
- Of course I don't lack a courage! I swear, I could face a troll without fear.
- Not that kind of courage brother. – Kazimierz shook his head. – Well then, I will find out myself.
- Brother. – Bernard said, and gestured to Kazi to come closer. – Say something good about me, alright?
- Ha ha, sure brother. – When he turned away from Bernard, Kazi's face became deadly serious. – We have a lot to discuss.
- I swear, that was Ursun himself! – Woman exclaimed, putting another bottle on the table. – He came to teach me lesson about drinking! Our contest was long, but I finally fell. Next day, I paid honors in the temple for Ursun, thanking him for becoming my drinking partner! – That was her final sentence before she collapsed on the snow.
- She literally drank whole magazine of alco with that bear. – One Kislevite who drunk far less than others stated, causing few laughs from the crowd. – Later Captain had a reaaallly long conversation with quartermaster. So, who is next!?
Ciri shook his head, imagining that moment. Bear soldier, who drink and wrestle with them, who would have thought.
- Hey. – She heard from her left, and turned to see the guy who tried to watch her discreetly, but her training and life in constant run from the wild hunt made her far more aware.
- You are Bernard's brother, aren't you? Kazimierz, isn't it?
- You got everything right. – He sat on the bench next to her, and Ciri could now effortlessly do, what he couldn't from afar.
Brown hair, big scar along the face, well-built but not muscular. She noted to herself. Honestly, are all people in Kislev built like that? How often those Norscans attack them?
From what Percival said earlier during her stay she learnt that many kislevite people – both man and woman – are constantly drafted into the army, to repel invaders from the North and East. This system, as he said, helps to keep enemies at bay, but all-time high drafts, along with constant threat from monsters hidden in the uninhabited lands means that people either live in three large Cities, which are centers of development, culture and trade, or live offland, on the constant move.
- Nice scar. – He said. – What caused it?
- That? Long story. It involves mercenaries, shady politics and sorcerer with god complex.
- So you are from the Empire? – He raised his eyebrow. – But your accent don't match.
- No, I am not. And what about your's?
- That one? – He touched his long scar across the face. - Berserker nearly cleaved me in half. Barely dogged a killing blow. But that whoreson looked far worse after what I have done to him.
- You serve long Kazimierz? – Ciri asked. – How many years?
- Lost count after twenty. – Ciri looked at him with surprise, but his serious face told more than enough. – Are you a swordsman?
- Bernard told you that?
- No, warrior will always recognize another fighter.
- Then yes, I trained with my father since I was ten.
Kazimierz nodded. – You don't look like one.
- Oh really?
- From my experience, to be able to fight properly, you need to be strong. Man, woman, no matter – all must be tough enough to fight. Just look at Sasha! – He pointed at medium sized woman with large muscles and hands probably so strong that she can easily bend metal in it. – She can…
- …Rip Norscan in half? – she ended for him, confusing Kazimierz for a moment.
- Yep. Exactly that. Saw it myself.
- Not everyone rely on pure strength to fight. – She took a sip from her cup. – Strength as important as speed and agility.
- Oh? So you say you are a dueler?
- Not quite, but close.
- Want to test it out with Rota's best sword? – He challenged.
She thought for a bit about it, and raised from her chair. – Sure, but I need a sword. Mine… was lost in the snow.
- Don't worry about it. JANEK! – he yelled to his companion. – Do we have a spare sword somewhere?
- Sure thing! – Jan run to his house, which also served as village's armory, while Ciri turned to face Kazimierz.
- Rules? – She asked
- To the first blood. – he said. – No running away, no limb cutting.
- Friendly sparring you say?
- If you call it like that, then yes.
- Here! – Jan returned with few sabres, some short and long swords and one scimitar. – Pick the one you prefer.
Ciri took each of the blade into her hand, each time took few swings to try it out, until she had in her hands medium steel sword. She swinged it once or twice, and nodded in satisfaction.
- Good enough. – She said. – I would still prefer my own, but for now, it will do.
- So. – He took a dueling stance. – Are you ready?
She took her own, and looked into his eyes with confidence.
- Always.
'
- FOR THE UR-FATHER! – Chaos warrior yelled while swinging his axe, but to his surprise, Khornite's longsword stopped it, and before Warrior could rethink his approach, shorter sword cut off his head.
Thormis looked around in this moment of respite, and cursed. What he thought was just a small scouting party turned out to be a whole Nurglite warhost.
The shield wall desperately tried to hold their ground against onslaught of the Heavly armored Rotbloods, but they soon found out that no matter how strong they hit, they just can't pierce their armor, and if somehow they do land a lucky hit, unholy gifts of resilience made their strikes nothing more than a nuisance. On the other hand, Choas warriors of Nurgle, although strong, were seeking personal glory, not coordinating their attacks against the well-disciplined Skealings. Their charges were chaotic, allowing the defenders to repel them and support one another in trouble. But one by one, wounded Skealings were dragged back towards the horses by one of the thrower's.
- I still have second one! – Skealing without an arm yelled towards his opponents. – Come and get me!
- This is pointless, Hound's pet. – Thormis heard a raspy voice before him, and turned to face a Chaos Champion, who threw away mangled corpse of Uril. – But this may not be the end for you. – He opened his arms in welcoming gesture. – Embrace Grandfather's most kindest of gifts and join us, brother.
Thormis raised his helmet, just slightly, to spit under the Champion's iron boot.
- I have my own mission, Rottenflesh. – He said, pointing his swords at his foe. – And I care little for your diseases.
- So you chose meaningless death? – Champion said with annoyance.
- As long as blood flows, this battle has a purpose.
Champion raised his left hand and spiked ball launched towards the Skealing, but Thromis dodged it and charged at the his opponent. They exchanged blow after blow, each strike sounded like a thunder. Long sword blocked the strikes of the morgenstern while the short sword tried to find a gap between the armor, only for the spiked flail to interrupt, forcing Thormis backward, only to relaunch his attack yet again.
For those two, time around them froze, seemingly leaving them both untouched. Two great warriors, both with the mission granted by their master's, not willing to give up. Nearly immovable Nurglite Champion against Unstoppable Knight Ripper. Each hit strong enough that if not blocked or dodged, could end their fight. Screams of the dying, battle cries of the warriors, sounds of battle. – It all died for them.
Finally, Khornite warrior found the gap in Nurglite armor, and launched at the opportunity. Flail wrapped around his long sword, but the shorter blade found its mark, right under the arm.
Thormis felt how the blade went deep into his opponent's rotten flesh, piercing through his innards. A lethal blow.
- Bleed. – He hissed to the Champion, but, instead of cry of pain or despair, he received… laughter.
- That's the thing, Dog. – As he said that, a green and black goo sprung from the wound, right into Thormis's helmet, getting into his eyes and nose. He let go of the short sword, coughing and nearly puking in disgust.
- My blood rotted years ago. – Champion took a powerful swing, Morgenstren hit Thromis directly in his chest, and sent him flying few meters backward. When Thromis landed, his helmet fell of, revealing his scarred face and red hair. Thromis coughed blood from his mouth, sensing that the blow broke some of his ribs. Meanwhile Nurglite Champon pulled out the short sword from his side, grunting in anger while doing so. He then kicked long sword to the side and took a good look at his prey.
- When I send your screaming soul to the Garden. – He slowly approached lying Thromis, and finally put heavy boot on his chest, to the enormous pain of the latter. – Tell the Ur-father that Gunnar the Ironbreaker sent you.
He raised his Morgenstern to deal a killing blow, but before he could finish the act, Javelin landed right in his neck, piercing it. For most of the people, this would be the end, but Gunnar just growled in shock of sudden inability to breath. So much so that he walked back a few steps, allowing Thromis to get up. Thormis sprung towards his blade, grabbed it and wanted to seize the opportunity, but unnerving feeling struck him.
Throgar cursed after bearly avoiding another strike from Nurglite warhammer. Although he saved his warchief, he only had one short axe against raging warrior. He striked his opponents helmet, but axe just broke upon the impact, while chaos warrior backhanded him with, sending Throgar to ground. Warrior grabbed his hammer with two hands and prepared to crush lying Skealing's face, but when he took the swing, nothing happened. He looked at his arms, and finally noticed lack of hands when longsword cut off his head.
- You alright brother? – Thormis asked, and Throgar smiled.
- You look terrible. – Throgar rose up on his feet, and took fallen warrior's Warhammer.
- Still better than you. – Thormis turned and soon the remaining Skealing formed around him, wounded and horses. Their weapons and shields either broken, wore out or lost, they now wielded everything they could find. Murder Twins joined Skealing last stand, heavily bloodied and weaponless, but deadly nonetheless.
Last two heavily wounded warriors joined them, and all slowly moved back, until their horses were just behind, and before them Rotbloods came from nearly all directions, passing through their dead like they meant nothing. Gunnar with great force pulled out the javelin from his throat and coughed the black goo. Still coughing, he looked at the Skealing's with fury, andgave remaining them his sentence.
- Killl….- He wheezed out his command, and Rotbloods happily obliged.
All raised their weapons, prepared to last final fight…
Suddenly, blue bolts of fire tore through the sky like a comet, above combatants heads, gaining their attention. With high speed, bolts flew through the snowstorm, and hit top of the nearest mountain, causing few explosions. Soon, Rumbling noise indicated, what is coming.
- RUN! – Gunnar yelled, and Rotbloods started to escape from the battlefield as fast as possible.
- HORSES! – Thormis yelled, and his warband jump on their steeds, starting their escape. They raided past some terrified Rotbloods, who don't even tried to stop or kill them anymore, while Skealings don't even thought about slashing few of them, since the survival became their top priority.
Avanlanche soon descanded upon them, crushing many unfortunate Norscans, who fell behind, also covering some of the Chaos warriors. Soon, most of the Rotblood warhost was covered by thick layer of snow and ice.
Thormis warband was at first able to avoid it, but soon, snow reached them too, and pushed them down the canyon. The last thing Thormis saw before darkness descanded…
- …Was a total devastation my Lord. – One of the Norscans observing the catastrophe said, smiling like a maniac. – Truly, your powerful magic is no match!
- Stop flattering me. – Unnaturally thin warrior in polished, blue steel said, watching with satisfaction effects of his spell. – Only fool would anticipate that it killed them. Gunnar is tough, he survived worse. – Champion of Tzeentch turned to his warhost. – We march to the Chapel, we have few hours before they catch up.
- As you wish, Lord Malachion. – Norscan nodded, and yelled to the rest to move forward. Only Malachion again looked down at the buried foes, scratching his chin.
- Is the Bone Blade truly near? – He asked the air.
- It is very close. – The guide in white robes appeared beside him. – But, do you have inner strength to claim it?
- Nothing stopped me before, and it will remain that way. – Malachion answered. – Especially, when my Ascension is near.
- Indeed, it is. – Golden haired guide grinned. – Your… Ascension is close.
'
Oswald watched the conclusion of the duel with fury. Kazimierz is the best swordsman in this part of Kislev, he couldn't lose to her, because she cut his nose, this… this must be a trick.
- Idiots. – He clutched his fists, seeing how he shake her hand and said something, to which whole village laughed. – Fools! Don't you see she manipulates you!? This Witch? This Ice Abomination!? You fought long enough to see through their lies!
He shook his head, sat near his table and pulled over one of his pet pigeon. He then attached small paper to its leg.
- I will show them who you are, witch. – he declared, opened one of the windows and sent the crow flying towards his old friends. – You hide yourself well, that's for sure, but one day, you will make a mistake.
He watched the pigeon slowly disappearing in the distance, and for the first time in ages, he grinned.
- And they will arrive soon enough, just in case. – He said out loud. – You and your kind will suffer, for everything you have done to Igor.
Author's note
Here, there was once an apology. Now, there is apology and new chapter
Sorry for that halt, I will do my best to go back on track
Thanks for reading, see you in the future!