Chapter 59
Under the thunder of Imperial cannons and the clatter of steel, the horde of the great Chaos warlord Tamurkhan was suffering a total defeat. Only recently, military fortune had shifted from hand to hand. It had seemed, at times, that the northern barbarians had a better chance of surviving the day. They had pressed the Empire's army with the sheer mass of their monsters and inhumanly strong warriors clad in daemon-plate. However, a few successful tactical decisions had completely turned the tide. Now, the Imperial advantage was snowballing.
Mortars and Helstorm Rocket Batteries had decimated the center of the Chaos formation. Even the most heavily armored and resilient foes took the full brunt of it. The plate of the Chosen was shredded by shrapnel. Trolls attempted to regenerate from a state of literal mincemeat. Daemons flickered and dissolved into nothingness. Chaos Spawn writhed, leaking puddles of foul-smelling ichor. I didn't get close enough to sniff it, of course, but given the Nurglite origin of these spawns, I'd bet a month's wages that the sludge stinks worse than Magg's boots.
The Dawi-Zharr had long since vanished from sight. I was certain their hellish steam-train was currently barreling back toward the Chaos Wastes.
The Norscans by the river had been routed. They weren't exactly fleeing in a blind panic; it was more of a disorderly retreat, leading away their surviving mammoths. Not destroyed, but demoralized. I don't even know what happened over there. Perhaps they simply didn't expect such heavy resistance from the south-landers, or they lost one of their particularly famous chieftains.
Reinforcements were now arriving from the river as well, threatening to catch the remnants of Tamurkhan's best forces in a pincer and finish them off once and for all. Companies of Reiksguard Halberdiers attacked the moment the shells stopped falling on the center. The Empire's infantry moved to cut off the enemy's escape routes.
The elite Chaos troops already engaged in melee at the redoubts continued to fight with savage fury.
A pair of Demigryphs were locked in combat with a riderless Toad Dragon. The green monster was bristling with spears, bolts, and even halberds, yet it refused to die.
A group of spearmen were painfully poking at an armored giant. The colossus was already wounded in the leg and down on one knee, but it had no intention of surrendering. It swung wildly with the hook-blades that the Dawi-Zharr had grafted on in place of its hands. The spearmen were careful to stay clear of those crushing blows. Men attacked the beast from all sides, thrusting into its legs and the gaps between the armored plates on its back. The giant roared in agony, flailing about aimlessly. I think it will have to suffer a long time yet before death claims it.
Reiksguard Greatswords, supported by a Warrior Priest, were hacking away at Chosen warriors, among whom stood a Sorcerer of Nurgle. The Chaos-worshippers were outnumbered nearly three to one, yet they stood like a wall of unyielding iron until six Demigryph Knights slammed into their rear, while a unit of two dozen Templars hit their flank. Every Witch Hunter discharged three or four pistols at point-blank range before drawing their blades. Even the Chosen of Nurgle couldn't withstand such pressure from all sides. Although each of them managed to tank dozens of lethal wounds and even take someone down with them, they fell into the mud one by one.
A total rout.
However, the Plague Ogres besieging our Land Ship paid no heed to the defeat of the rest of the Chaos host. They were battering the hull and smashing the wheels so hard the entire vessel was rocking.
— Look here, you rot-faced cunt! — Magg yelled, lowering his double-barreled gun over the side.
The ship's crew had jammed wadding in front of the cannonballs so the projectiles wouldn't roll out due to gravity.
— Shut up and come down here, food! — came a voice from below.
Two deafening shots rang out in immediate succession.
— We'll see who's food, rot-face, — Magg grunted and, like an action hero from a nineties movie, sniffed the smoking barrels before handing the weapon back to be reloaded.
We could have "entertained" ourselves with these foul gluttons for quite a while, but the general collapse of the enemy army finally reached us. Fifteen reserve knights thundered past, then wheeled around and charged the rear of the Ogres, who were far too focused on their potential meal. The lances sank deep into the bloated carcasses of the hideous creatures. This was our chance.
— Forward! Or rather, down! — I urged the others. — Let's finish them!
The ship's crew and the Landsknechts lowered the spare gangplanks, but none of them were in a hurry to descend. Magg, Liandra, one of the surviving dwarfs, and I were the first to go. We kicked our way into the melee between the knights and the Plague Ogres. The latter, despite horrific wounds, turned to face the Imperial cavalry. Two Plague Ogres even managed to bring down one of the horses, the bastards breaking the poor beast's legs. The Ogres were ready to tear the rider apart—knight's armor would hardly have saved him—but we arrived just in time.
With a blow from a trophy axe, Magg split the helm and skull of a Plague Ogre wielding a massive cleaver. I tried to sever its right arm. It was in vain, but my axe blade bit deep, reaching the bone.
— I'll gut you...
Magg silenced him with a punch, which the creature immediately tried to bite. I stepped in, shoving the metal rim of my shield into the monster's maw. Terrible teeth ground against the iron.
For fuck's sake!
A swarm of large black flies rose from the foul glutton's hide, buzzing into my eyes. God, I hate fighting Nurglites! Can I please have Khorne-worshippers or Slaaneshi followers next time? You can at least look away from the naked bodies of the latter, but it's much harder to ignore flies crawling into your eyes, nose, and mouth.
Meanwhile, the Landsknechts from the Manann's Blades began descending from our ship. They used boat hooks and short pikes to help us subdue the Plague Ogres. Handguns thundered at point-blank range. Swords hacked at the thick fingers of the foul gluttons. Liandra skillfully sliced off a portion of one Ogre's unhelmeted head. A chunk of skull and a horn fell away, exposing brains that were literally crawling with maggots. The parasites had bored numerous tunnels through the Ogre's gray matter.
— They're running! They're runniiiing! — the joyous cry, echoed by dozens of voices, could be heard even over the thunder of the cannons.
The Imperial guns were less active now, anyway. The enemy was retreating, and our troops were in pursuit. The artillerymen had to constantly adjust their fire to avoid hitting their own men.
Leaving Magg and the Landsknechts to finish off the Plague Ogre, I ran back up the gangplank to survey the battlefield.
— Well, holy shit! — the words escaped me involuntarily.
It wasn't just "they are running." It was "He is running!" As in, Tamurkhan himself was personally retreating from the field.
The hide of his Toad Dragon looked like a lunar landscape due to the sheer number of hits from artillery and small arms. The son of Nurgle himself had taken a hell of a beating, too. Broken knightly lances protruded from his back and sides. Almost nothing remained of his armor. Fresh scars and unhealed wounds covered his putrid flesh. Brownish-green, foul-smelling miasmas surrounded his immense bulk like a cloud, but they seemed thinner than before, as if the Maggot Lord had weakened.
Nevertheless, though Tamurkhan was forced to retreat, his monstrous mount crushed anyone who stood in its master's way. Damn it! If the son of Nurgle escapes, he'll just gather a new horde in time. The only way to remove his threat once and for all is to destroy Tamurkhan himself.
I turned to the captain of the Land Ship, pointing toward the fleeing warlord:
— Can we catch him?!
— No! Those freaks chewed through the front axle. If we move, the ship will collapse onto its hull!
The whole world's going to collapse if Chaos isn't stopped! And that means killing Tamurkhan. Let the final battle between Order and Chaos happen without this fat bastard.
I have to, if not kill Tamurkhan personally, at least make sure he's finished. The Maggot Lord is known to switch bodies; his true form is a parasite living inside a controlled corpse. I need to make sure he doesn't slip away quietly.
I bolted down the gangplank. I had to motivate our mighty squad to follow the Maggot Lord. Tamurkhan had already managed to get nearly a mile and a half away. However, tracking him wouldn't be difficult. The wounded Toad Dragon was dragging its belly across the ground, leaving a wide trail of slime and blood.
— We have to catch him! — I shouted to Magg, Liandra, and the others who were helping the knights finish off the Plague Ogres.
— That thing?! — one of the Landsknechts said, his eyes going wide. — I don't get paid enough for that! Let the knights and lords handle it!
— Let's go, Umgi! — the one-eyed dwarf supported me.
— Thin-uns! Is the gun ready?! — Magg shouted to the Land Ship crew. — Give it here! Toss it!
Throwing a dual artillery piece isn't exactly sensible, but Magg caught it deftly and shouldered it. With the gun in one hand and his axe in the other, Gutrom set off in pursuit of the retreating Chaos warlord.
I, Liandra, the dwarf, Magg, and Erik found ourselves in a roiling tide where fleeing northerners mingled with pursuing Imperials. Chaos reigned—not the supernatural kind, just an absolute mess. The panic of some met the bloodlust of others. Often, it was hard to tell who was who. Out of nowhere, I was struck by a halberd from the side. The impact was jarring, but thanks to a good helmet and various buffs, I weathered it without issue. Turning toward the source, I found a couple of halberdiers with wild, crazed eyes. At first, I thought they were under some sorcerous control, but they didn't try to fight further. They waved their hands as if to say: "Sorry, brother."
I would have explained the full extent of my displeasure to them, but there was no time. Tamurkhan was getting away.
A few Demigryph Knights thundered past, nearly knocking us over. They might have, too, if they hadn't noticed Magg and steered slightly clear.
Somewhere off to our side, a dozen men were finishing off a Beast of Nurgle. With halberds and swords, they were pulping a writhing mass of tentacles that emitted a disgusting, screeching whine. Sprays of acidic slime flew in every direction.
A werewolf, torn in half, tried to crawl away on its front paws. Its entrails dragged through the mud, and the fleeing soldiers stepped on them repeatedly.
In such a mess, even following the trail of a giant wounded Toad Dragon was difficult. Our feet churned the slippery mud. It hadn't rained, but the Nurglites and their sorcerers had fouled the soil with all sorts of fluids. In some places, it was hard to even walk.
Fleeing Norscans fell into the mud. The Imperials trying to kill them fell right after. Soon, everyone was smeared to such a degree that it was hard to tell a decent man from a servant of the Dark Gods.
I hacked down someone grimy holding an axe. I hope it was a Norscan. Further on, I nearly tripped over a pile-up of the dead, the wounded, and those who had simply fallen. Liandra caught me from behind, grabbing the collar of my cuirass.
At that moment, a purple flash lit up the skies. A dragon was flying over us, and this time it was no monster of Chaos. Elspeth von Draken directed her winged beast to slaughter the fleeing northerners. The dragon unleashed a shimmering beam of sorcerous energy from its maw, cutting down dozens of panicking marauders at once. We had to freeze in place to avoid the risk of friendly fire.
Elspeth didn't linger long, however. She was likely pursuing Tamurkhan as well.
With great effort and plenty of cursing, we crossed a particularly muddy stretch of the battlefield. Up ahead lay a small grove of young trees. There, we picked up Tamurkhan's trail again. His Toad Dragon had smashed a literal path through the woods, crushing and toppling the saplings. At the very start of the clearing, a small detachment of Imperials was fighting a dozen northerners who, having escaped the artillery fire, decided to turn and face their pursuers. The fight was going in favor of the forces of Order. Several Reiksguard Greatswords were skillfully wielding their blades, keeping the northerners at bay or killing them outright. Meanwhile, missile troops reloaded their handguns and crossbows. Several Norscans already lay dead, struck by bullets.
Our arrival finaly turned the tide of the skirmish.
Taking a throwing axe on my shield, I closed the distance instantly and, with one swing of my trophy choppa, lopped off the right arm of a Norscan in a hideous helm just as he raised it to strike. The bastard wasn't done; he tried to reach me with a curved dagger snatched from his belt, but a shield bash stopped him. I finished him by driving the heavy axe blade into his unprotected chest.
My companions weren't wasting time, either. In less than ten seconds, the northerners were either slaughtered or put to flight. I was about to rush forward through the clearing, but a Reiksguard warrior barred my path with the flat of his blade.
— Halt! — he barked. — Orders from General von Velten! Only mages, priests, and knights may pursue that monster. Regular soldiers are to stay together and return to the city fortifications.
Oh, for god's sake! Even amidst the general madness, the Imperials were still handing out and following orders. I didn't have time to argue. I was about to go full Lietpold and force my way through, but Imperial knights arrived at the clearing just then. One of them lifted his visor; it was Rudolf Hock.
— They're with me! — the knight croaked.
He likely desperately wanted a drink after the long, grueling fight, but the battle wasn't over yet.
The Reiksguard warrior tried to argue, but the knight literally pushed him aside with his horse.
— Jurgen, Magg, Liandra, — Hock said. — Follow us. We have to finish this filth in the name of Sigmar and all the fallen.
I couldn't agree more. Tamurkhan cannot be allowed to escape.
Hock's mounted detachment gradually pulled ahead of us. Although the knights weren't pushing their horses too hard, following them on foot was no easy task. The thunder of the cannons had almost ceased, yet it wouldn't be right to say silence had fallen. The grove was filled with a multitude of sounds. Small skirmishes between the retreating and the pursuers were breaking out all around us.
Desperate screams reached my ears. Likely, many Imperials had overestimated their strength and underestimated the enemy's cunning. Even if the Chaos-worshippers were no longer capable of organized resistance, here under the canopy of trees, they were turning from prey back into hunters.
I heard the barking of Chaos Warhounds, the eerie howling of werewolves, and the vile laughter of daemons. Among the rotting trees, I could see the scurrying of Nurglings. There weren't many of the little daemons yet, but their very presence was a bad sign. The veil between reality and the Warp was thinning here.
I felt a sense of dread, despite all the charges in my Blood Chalice. Liandra, Erik, and the one-eyed dwarf shared my mood.
— Trees, trees, cursed trees, — the bearded one grumbled under his breath. — I'd chop them all down so nothing could hide. These wretched places lack proper walls and a ceiling.
In one hand, the dwarf held an axe, and in the other, a heavy hammer that an ordinary man could hardly lift.
— There are many enemies around, — Liandra noted, listening intently. — This place could be a trap for the unwary.
Of all of us, Magg was the most optimistic.
— We'll bash their tyrant, eat his carcass, and that painted lady-countess will give us piles of gold and grub for his head!
— Wait! — Liandra raised her hand.
Even without being an elf, I heard something ahead. The path turned several times, so there was no direct line of sight. However, judging by the sounds, a battle was raging there. The ground shuddered beneath our feet. Something massive was stomping quite close by. Likely Tamurkhan's Toad Dragon. The Maggot Lord was there.
I can hardly believe we've come this far. Victory or death awaits ahead. It's time to step forward and meet our fate.