Chapter 24
Poked and Prodded, Ronan held back the temptation to do the same to the quack they brought out. Apparently, he was the governor’s personal physician. If that was the case, how did the man live to sixty, Ronan thought between squirming.
“You are in top physical health, young man.” Said the Quack. “You may enter the city.”
“Can I have a second opinion?”
“Just get your ass behind the walls!” Commanded Arhidel, and he obeyed.
Ronan didn’t think he was ready to enter the city yet, or anyone outside the walls. The risk of Nurgle’s “blessings” were too great. He even made cavoites to hinder his entry. Cavoites such as he would enter only when the best doctor available performed his tests, and they could use the nearest tavern for their war room. To his surprise, they acquiesced. To the joys of many of his officers, its lampposts had red glass.
With aggression still unspent, he slammed the doors open. Looking around, he found it nicer than he was expecting, but had not the mind to enjoy it. Maybe when the mayhem was done. Until then he had a piece of said mind to share with the officers, nobles, clergy, and wizards surrounding the map table.
The centerpiece was a perfect replica of the city, complete with moving pieces the mages were deciding where to put. Thick forest, represented by large salad bowls, surrounded the city, and a burning bowl of soup represented the dockside town now in flames.
Guards of every sort were stationed around, to keep those of little restraint from leaving early. The triplet wizards under Ronan’s leadership were slump over in cots by the fire. Their efforts would drain Ronan of his coffer’s this night, and keep his nobles from having a burning sensation in their neither regions.
“A quarter of my elvin warriors are dead, as are a small number of ship-born officers, a pair of sorceresses from the ship, one more from her own trials, and a pair of nobles on their Hawkseer. Three hundred have to be quarantined outside the city, including one of the nobles I am in charge of once we get back on the ark. Hells, I should be out there still until I pass priestly inspection. A dozen or so good fighting ogres and a pair of their gorgers out of my mercenaries are also carrion!
“My second in command is thankfully in good hands in the med wing, but she won’t be able to fight this battle. Oh, and my soon to be wife was nearly killed getting your people to safety! Please tell her thank you, you ungrateful idiots!”
“Calm down, Dark Elf.” Commanded the one eyed warrior priest. “We all lost people today.”
“But have you lost the most due to a lack of your people not doing enough? I haven’t even gotten to my more beastly kind of armaments. I am down to three hydras, a single Kharibdyss, a pair of Medusa, fifty harpies, and good dozen war hounds. Everything else was killed off, and the captured chaos things my beastmasters are taming don’t even amount to a tenth of the potential lost.
“Half my chariots are in ruins. All but a dozen reapers are kindling. I have maybe eight more that can be repaired, but it will take a day. A third of the food and medicine I brought is either in flames or is so contaminated it is being chucked into the pyres now. And a good half of the ammunition I brought has been spent or also tossed into the fire. Only the vampire is happy with the loss of life, and that is only so he could make an army! And that doesn’t even get to the rest of your kind’s losses!
“What. In. The. Abyss. IS. Wrong. With. You. All?” Ronan snapped, tossing an expensively decorated chair into the bar as we went.
A few were tempted to draw their blades. Others meekly hemmed and hawed. All knew the truth in his words.
“I can answer that, elf!” Said a dwarf chomping on a well spent cigar. “And I am only repeating what King Baulder has been saying. You tree maidens are still mad you need them pointy eared sons of bitches to help keep your forest safe!” He said, his smoldering cigar between his fingers and pointed to the highest ranked dryad in the room. “And you, Wood Elf, don’t like anyone not of your forest, even your own forest kin, unless they can help keep it alive another day; that’s kept you a spear’s length from the rest of us.” He said, now pointing to an elf prince in a vest made of golden leaves.
“And you, High Elves; you think you are the only ones to take on the mantle of holding back nightmarish things. You think you are so high and mighty to the point the rest of us think Upity elves are more like it. And you, humans, keep shooting yourselves in the foot with a blunderbuss with your indecisiveness, and your weak-willed leaders.
“But I saved the best for last. The Dowi here are bellyaching about grudges that were delt with when the High King’s grandfather was a beardling. Picking fights left and right, when we have a good enough enemy out there!”
“More or less, good dowi.” Said the Green Prince of the High Elves. “And now a great boon has been wasted.”
“Not completely.” Ronan corrected. “The combined efforts of our vanguard seems to have scattered or slain most of this chaff. That means the very thing meant to weaken us could still make us stronger if we let it.”
“And if we don’t?” Asked the human governor.
“We all die. Helga, can you…Oh no!” Ronan dropped all pretenses of his station, and called for the triplets. Pulling her into a chair, and grabbing something warm to drink, he sang her an ancient lullaby to calm her nerves.
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Peter knew that old lullaby. It was one his mother sung to him, and one he sung to a girl he was sweet on as a child. Song about welcoming the return of the Hummingbirds with the coming of spring. How the rains brought the flowers which beckoned them home. To sip their sweet nectar and hum their little songs. He could not help but tremble as his lips sand along.
“Pee…Pee-ter?” Helga whispered.
The one they called Ronan turned and stared at him. It was a knowing look, one of recognition, one of sudden revelation. “You were the boy that tried to save her.” He said. “You lost an eye to a blunted handbow bolt.”
“That’s impossible!” Said Meyer. “It can’t be? Can it?”
Peter stiffened like a cat seeing a threat. It was her father, so why was she acting like she saw a wraith?
“You sold me…You sold me!” She kept repeating.
“What?!” Peter’s hands tightened, his leather gloves the only thing keeping his fingernails from digging bloody trenches of his fists. “You! Did you sell her to those monsters?”
“I hope you don’t take offense to this.” The old governor said to one of the dark elf nobles just around the corner.
“Worry not. This is the best entertainment we’ve had in weeks.” Said one of the dark elf noble.
“Besides,” Said another. One that called himself Relik if Peter Recalled. “Monster seems pretty appropriate.
“Shut it!” Ronan commanded, and both dark elves stiffened like suits of armor. “You sold your daughter to slavers? That is cold, even by the standards of the Druchii.”
“It was the only way to save the city!” Meyer pleader
“Oh, I remember that day.” Cackled one of the witch elves. She looked twenty summers, but Peter knew elves aged far slower than humans. “Eight years ago, my superior prophesized this city would fall unless a daughter of wealth was freely given. Oh, it was lovely: You begging for your life! A young girl cradling a boy that had a bolt through his face. And her father, begging for his life! Willing to give anything.”
Fire and furry burned through Peter’s veins. His desire to take that hammer and break her jaw off and then smash it into Meyer’s drunken head.
“He sold me…he sold me….”
“Is this why your boys won’t come back?” Peter asked. “They knew what you did?” His hand now creeped ever closer to his hammer’s handle.
“I had to save the city!” Meyer protested.
“You had to save yourself!” The Witch Elf Corrected. “You saying we could take your daughter was the fulfillment of the prophesy, and my Crone made sure that Dreadlord kept his word.”
“Take what you can, Meyer.” Peter commanded. “I want you out of that house!”
“Where will I go?” Helga’s father pleaded.
“To Chaos for all I care.” Half blind by rage, the other half by tears, Peter bit back the desire to commit to his murderous desire. “I allowed you to stay long enough to try to pick yourself up, but I see now there was nothing to save. Leave!”
“Relik; take two guards and escort him.” Ronan said, tossing a heavy sack of coins to the assassin. “Use this to hire someone to load and haul a handcart to the tent city outside the gates.
“What are you thinking, dark elf!” Peter demanded.
“Sending him to Chaos.” The leader of their evil army answered. “The Flagellants and Slayers have the right of it: If you are going to die with this much ruinous energy about, might as well be in battle. Or does Sigmar allow sacrificial offerings of the thinking creatures?”
“We are not savages.” Peter said.
“If you say so. Triplets, take her someplace safe. Peter, I suggest you go with her. A pair of her favorite guards will accompany you.”
“Is that necessary?” Peter asked.
The elf nodded. “They are both women; most men send her into a fit. I want the added security.”
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Only when Helga and her guard left, did Ronan open the floodgates of his heart. Grasping the most expensive looking bottle of wine on the table, and tried to hurl it through a wall.
“Who’s idea was it to use a brothel to house this meeting?”
‘
“You wanted the nearest Tavern.” Said one of the dwarven thanes. “This one also seemed to fit your men’s needs.
“My map expert was taken from this city in a raid when she was but eight summers. She spent two years in a druchii brothel, then four years under the cruel ownership of an admiral that only wanted her for her body. Its going to be hours before she can help us!”
“We have others that know the terrain.” Said a local huntsmen.
“Yes, but she is far more skilled than any of the elves on the Ark, to the point the Fleet Master will silence hecklers to hear her thoughts. We need her skill. For now, what have any of our scouts found?”
Devix and one of the wood elf horse masters stepped forward, as did a war-scarred dryad. She appeared to be more elvin in form, better to make pleasantries and maybe a little romance as her fickle kind were to do. However, Ronan knew they were most oft seen in a shape best to cause fear, and to rend their enemies.
“Over to the east, a large fleet of Nurgle worshipers have landed. Mostly human marauders, but plenty of monsters. They also have a large number of their armored Warriors of chaos, both on foot, on horseback, or commanding chariots.” Said Devix. “They are joined by beastmen, who are being directed by a harpy that has the mind of a general, and the speech of diplomat. The one they call Hollov is there, shaking off stone crust a medusa put him in. Worse still, they seem to have a number of daemons of them; not that big fat bastards, but plenty of those flying cavalry and other monsters”
The Dryad nodded in agreement. “They are being held up by some unexpected allies in this. A few local war herds and goblin tribes are not pleased with them, and currently trying to force them off. Yet, I see them being cowed down or leather goods by the morning.”
A Member of the shade clans and a Shadow Warrior stepped forward next. Each one having looked like they faced hell itself. “Tzeentchens have arrived in the west.” Said the Shadow Warrior. “The whole damn chaos wastes worth of them. Not one mere marauders in sight, save for those tending to the hounds. Anything not in chaos armor are monsters, daemons, which include a big bird thing, and more flesh and blood monsters. Chimera, Spawn, giants, ogre, troll, skinwolf, mutant, and spine beast galore. The only chaff we could spot were the forsaken.”
“Everything to make a beastmaster happy.” Said Ronan. “Any war machines?
“A few weapons of Chaos Dwarf make, sure, Hell Cannons I believe they are called. Just one is a nightmare as they are more daemon than machine in every sense of those words. But they seem to prefer the use of the monsters, many capable of shattering shield walls with ease.” Said the Shade. “They may not have figured we would be here, but they are done taking chances.”
“Same with the others.” Said The Glade rider. “No such weapons to be found amongst the Nurglites but Ghorgons and Cygores are enough to tear down ancient halls and walls. Giants and dragon ogres can make shorter work of those Infront and behind. No need to haul too many of those daemon cannons.”
“That leaves just one foe we haven’t accounted for.” Said Ronan. “Skaven.”
“What do you mean?” Asked the governor.
“Most of fodder we fought were the byproducts of Clan Maulder experiments perverting the natural order. Like what the Chaos Gods do, but more controlled in a sense. I suspect they won’t just be happy with what the chaos lords paid for their services. They’ll want a piece of us. As their enemies or as their allies, they won’t be our friends.
“The question to ask is what happens if any of us survive?”
