Chapter 62
I gripped the trophy axe with both hands, bracing myself to fight for my life. Under the vaulted ceiling of the ruined shrine of Shallya, this battle was meant to be joined.
The mere sight of Tamurkhan sent a cold sweat through me, despite the magical enhancements bolstering my spirit. The Maggot Lord had always been a font of terror—a massive, decomposing bulk inhabited by a lethal, malevolent intellect. A mighty champion of evil.
Yet now, Tamurkhan was an even more nightmarish spectacle than he had been moments ago. Half his head and one arm were gone. Deep gashes crisscrossed his torso, weeping a constant stream of filth. Within them, countless parasites and larvae writhed. Just looking at him was excruciatingly repulsive. But more sickening and terrifying was the thought that I could become like him. If I lost, I too would turn into a walking nursery for rot.
A cloud of fetid, humid air quickly filled the ruins of the shrine. Within it swarmed vile insects that tried to crawl into my face.
— Too late to run, mortal, — Tamurkhan rumbled, closing in. — I shall gnaw upon your bones.
With those words, the Great Champion of Nurgle lumbered toward me. The decisive moment had arrived. Tamurkhan moved slower than before. Had there been more room in the shrine, I could have easily danced around him.
I needed to take his leg. Not strike at the head or torso, but simply strip him of his mobility.
Tamurkhan lunged at me, squeezing every ounce of remaining speed from his collapsing body. I attempted to dodge left, simultaneously swinging the axe at his knee. The plan seemed safe enough. I managed to catch his leg and...
Fuck!
Tamurkhan's ribcage suddenly exploded from within with a loud crack. Torrents of filth erupted in every direction. I was doused in the sludge, and hundreds of worms, resembling black ascarids, attacked every inch of my exposed skin. So foul! Itch and pain drowned out all other sensations.
— Trap! — Loom-Pia's voice rang in my mind.
Just one word, but I understood instantly. I threw myself back, trying to shield my upper body with my arms and the axe. Something leapt at me, biting my left arm, but failed to hold on. Frantically wiping worms and filth from my face, I finally saw the creature.
That's no ordinary maggot!
On the floor covered in debris and Toad Dragon acid, a massive larva the size of an infant sat poised for attack. How can something that large fit inside anyone but an Ogre? A monstrous parasite bristling with spikes and razor-sharp teeth. Its tiny eyes glared at me with otherworldly malice.
The maggot suddenly coiled and lunged. I was certain magic was aiding Tamurkhan's movement in this form; there was no other way to explain the speed and agility of the wretched thing.
I tried to bat it away with the axe, but the blade missed. However, my arms and weapon once again prevented the larva from sinking its teeth into my face or neck.
I threw Tamurkhan off, but there was no time to celebrate the small victory. My feet slipped on some grime on the floor. I crashed down onto the broken furniture. All the while, the black worms continued to burrow into my face and neck. Nausea rose in my throat. The situation was as bad as it gets, but I had one last plan in reserve, and then...
Pain in my arm, followed by darkness.
Was it some kind of poison? I tried to draw from the Blood Chalice and stand, but neither worked. Beneath me was something soft. The air was humid and hot, like a sauna.
— Loom-Pia, are you here? — I asked mentally.
— Yes. This is an illusion you must resist. Another trap of the Ruinous Powers.
The darkness around me dissipated, and I realized I was lying on a pile of corpses. Decomposed, bloated, and eaten by worms. Dozens of northerners and one Ogre. I realized very quickly who they were: Tamurkhan's past victims. The dead lay still, but their rotten hands clamped onto my limbs like shackles. That was why I couldn't move. Above me stretched a black-green sky, tainted by the corruption of Chaos. Instead of normal clouds, a suffocating stench roiled there, and clouds of countless insects swirled.
The moment I tried to stand again, the dead gripped me even tighter.
Nonsense. This is just an illusion. In reality, no one is holding me.
— Accept the Maggot Lord... — the rotten Ogre mumbled, forcing my head toward a stone altar standing near the pile of bodies. — Become his vessel, as we all have...
No. Go to hell, all of you, along with your Lord.
On the ritual stone was carved a schematic image of the hideous maggot that was Tamurkhan's true form.
— Too late, mortal... — wheezed one of the corpses, whose bluish-green face was adorned with piercings and the Mark of Slaanesh. — We were all great warriors... We were chosen, yet we became nothing but fodder for him... It is your destiny...
— There is no such thing as destiny! — I countered, turning my memories back to the past.
As Loom-Pia had once advised, I envisioned my home. The place where I was born and lived in safety from magic, Chaos, or forced fate. My protection could deflect very powerful spells. The problem now was that Tamurkhan was too close. He was literally sinking his teeth into me, breaching the defense.
The suffocating air, the stench, the shackles of dead hands—it all felt like one great allegory for an otherworldly, enslaving power. That was what Chaos was in its essence. Not freedom, but a curse of eternal bondage. And I hated it. Not as a Sigmarite fanatic or a believer in other gods. No. My mind and will, craving freedom, clarity of thought, and new possibilities, rejected Chaos.
I managed to latch onto this sensation of rejecting the Destructive Powers. The darkness around me flickered. The dead gripped me tighter, dragging me into the very depths of the rotten pile, but it was all just an illusion.
— No destiny, — I repeated mentally. — All the Chosen can go fuck themselves. The Dark Gods can follow them. Let mortals decide their own fate!
The grim vision wavered. For a fleeting second, true reality bled through. Pain, itching, sharp teeth tearing at my flesh. Tamurkhan was trying to reach my throat. If I didn't...
Through the haze, I managed to reach with my mangled left hand for the object I needed. Then, I commanded Loom-Pia:
— Do it!
In my hand was the enchanted Dawi-Zharr dagger. From its blade extended a smoky-ash whip. Obeying my will, it wrapped around Tamurkhan's larva mid-torso. Got you! Then, with one jerk of my hand, I managed to hurl the parasite away just as it had begun to gnaw on my throat.
— Consume! — I gave the mental command.
My Blood Chalice emptied. The energy was funneled into healing my wounds. The potentially fatal tear in my throat closed almost instantly. I had less strength now, but my life was no longer in danger. The delirium receded.
Tamurkhan's maggot form writhed and jerked in the grip of the ashen whip. The monster would break free soon, but I still had a few seconds. Staggering, I walked forward, struggling to raise the heavy axe with both hands.
Nausea, filth, worms, accumulated exhaustion... and yet, I was truly happy at that moment.
— Die-kill! — in a surge of emotion, I somehow slipped into Skaven-speak.
It could hardly even be called a strike. I simply let the heavy axe fall. Tamurkhan the Maggot Lord, in his true form, was cleaved down the length of his body by the weapon of his defeated henchman.
A horrific wail battered my ears. The remains of the larva erupted in a daemonic, brown-green flame. The shrine building shuddered. Then, from all sides, a cacophony of malevolent voices erupted. I understood what was happening. The daemons and Nurgle himself were beyond displeased. The soul of their champion was being cast into the Warp before Tamurkhan could fulfill his ordained destiny.
I burst out laughing.
— Monsters, magic, gifts from gods, an army of nearly immortal meatheads in heavy plate, and you still fucked it up!
The powers of the Immaterium seemed to hear my mockery. The shrine shuddered again. The stone floor began to give way beneath my feet. The building was collapsing.
It would have been an incredibly stupid death for the victor over a Great Champion of Chaos, but the destruction of Tamurkhan filled my Blood Chalice to the brim. A massive amount of life energy had been ripped from the Maggot Lord. My strength returned, and grabbing the enchanted dagger, I bolted toward safety.
The shrine wasn't just collapsing; it was sliding down the slope toward the river. I lunged that way, half-running, half-leaping off unstable stones. Several pieces of debris fell from above, but my helmet and magic kept me alive. I made it out.
The area was still shrouded in a thick mist of corruption. Somewhere up above, beyond the ruins of the shrine, my allies were still fighting the last manifested daemons. I had to go help them. Victory was just a hair's breadth away. Tamurkhan was dead and...
Crack.
I was shot, and the hit was clean. A searing pain circled my stomach. The bullet had punched through my badly damaged cuirass and lodged deep somewhere near my navel.
From the haze of Nurglite filth, a squat, broad figure stepped out to meet me. Why now of all times! A Chaos Dwarf Sorcerer had decided to join the party. A jet-black beard adorned with gold, protruding tusks, a war-pick glowing with magic, and a tall headdress depicting a black armored gauntlet clutching a chain. The Sorcerer bored into me with flickering red eyes. They glowed with unholy magic.
Wait! I remember him! This was the Sorcerer-Prophet on the Bale Taurus who had been hunting me during the battle.
Behind the Dawi-Zharr appeared five of his kin. One of them held a smoking blunderbuss. That was what they'd shot me with.
The wound hurt like hell, and something was wrong with it. From my belly to the rest of my body, it felt as though liquid fire was spreading.
— Suffering? — the Sorcerer sneered. — You, little man, owe me. You killed MY apprentice, you took MY things! — the Dawi-Zharr suddenly flipped from laughter to rage, then calmed again. — No matter. You will repay the debt with interest. I know you are no ordinary little man. Yes... Something protects you from sorcery. And for an extraordinary little man, I crafted an extraordinary bullet. Do you feel it burning your insides? Daemon blood, warpstone dust, and special enchantments. Your protection will help you no longer!
The Sorcerer made a gesture, and it felt as if I'd been hit with a sledgehammer to the head. Моя legs buckled; sparks danced in my eyes. Magic!? Magic had worked on me!?
Dammit!
It seemed the sorcerous bullet had punched a hole in my defenses, which meant...
I smirked, spitting out blood. The pain in my belly was being replaced by a sensation of lightness. I tossed the trophy axe toward the ruins and, with numbing fingers, unbuckled the straps of my ruined cuirass.
— Attempting to show submission, little man? — the Sorcerer-Prophet said. — Put him in chains!
I barely heard him, savoring a sensation so strange and previously unknown. The Winds of Magic were flowing through me! The special Dawi-Zharr bullet had pierced the protective cocoon, becoming an anchor for otherworldly energies.
Following the cuirass, I removed my battered helmet. The iron was bent and cracked in places. With such pleasure, I cast it aside, letting the cool breeze hit my sweat-soaked hair.
Obeying the Sorcerer-Prophet's command, two Chaos Dwarfs moved toward me. One carried heavy shackles covered in spikes and runes.
— Slavery? — I smiled at the approaching tusked beard-men. — No. Thanks. I've already worked in food service. I've had enough of those kinds of job openings.
— Silence! — barked the Sorcerer-Prophet. — I am Mordian Black-Grip, and my slaves...
— You calculated everything well, dwarf, — I interrupted, lifting my left leg as if about to sit in a lotus position. — Но there's something you simply couldn't know. My magical protection helped me survive on one hand, but on the other, it restricted the power of my chief ally. And now... — I pulled up my other leg, crossed them both, and remained levitating three feet above the ground.
The Winds of Magic flowed through me, so Loom-Pia could use them freely. By stripping me of my protection, the Dawi-Zharr had returned the power of an ancient Slann.
— And now I must destroy you, creature of Chaos, — a voice spoke that was no longer mine.
— Allow me to use your imperfect limbs to add precision to my spells. Do not resist my will, warm-blooded creature, — the Hypnotoad addressed me.
— Go for it. Burn them, Pepe. Blow it all to hell!
Several shots rang out, but Loom-Pia had already clenched my fists and pressed them together. A shield of pale-golden energy manifested before us, blocking the bullets.
The Sorcerer-Prophet hurled a crimson projectile at us, leaving a long trail of smoke, but even that magic failed to shatter the protective dome. No matter how powerful the Dawi-Zharr might be, few can currently compete in sorcery with a Second Generation Slann.
Loom-Pia clapped my palms together, and the ground beneath the Chaos Dwarfs split. Two slabs of earth folded together, crushing the enemies between them.
The ordinary Dawi-Zharr were severely injured despite their armor, but the Sorcerer-Prophet managed to create a protective sphere around himself. Mordian, or whatever his name was, was whispering something, waving his flickering war-pick.
Then the ground opened up beneath us, spewing flames and fireballs, but Loom-Pia didn't even bother to block it. He simply flew higher.
From the haze of Nurglite filth behind the Sorcerer-Prophet, the colossal silhouette of a Bale Taurus appeared. The Chaos-dweller's pet opened its maw and...
Thunder crashed.
Three simultaneous lightning strikes tore through the foul fog. Following this came the indignant roar of the Bale Taurus. Even if the beast survived, it was clearly having a bad day.
— Alas, warm-blooded creature, your body and spirit are not suited for focusing my powers. To remain in this state for too long would lead to the death of us both, and our mission is not yet complete. I shall destroy the enemy as swiftly as possible.
I was actually sorry to hear that. From the very start of the magical duel, I had felt a steadily mounting euphoria. Perhaps this is how powerful mages feel when weaving their spells. Thanks to my strange connection with Loom-Pia, I'd been given a chance to touch these unique sensations.
The Hypnotoad lowered my eyelids. A model of the planet and its surrounding objects appeared before my closed eyes. It was incredible. I saw the celestial bodies moving. The Slann was calculating their trajectories and interactions. One image was overlaid upon another. In mere seconds, Loom-Pia performed work that would have taken ordinary astronomers months, if not years, of their lives.
The Slann extended my arms as if holding an invisible sphere. Within it, five sparks ignited, each no larger than a match head. Then, Loom-Pia flew away, moving further and further from the enemies.
— Running already?! — the Sorcerer-Prophet's rage-filled scream reached us. — I shall find you regardless, mysterious spirit. Your power will be mine, no matter how hard you try to escape!
— I am not running, foolish creature, — the Slann replied, and magic carried his voice toward the Dawi-Zharr. — I am clearing the blast zone. It is done.
One of the five sparks suddenly flared brighter and vanished. Simultaneously, a thunderous boom erupted. A flash of fire streaked across the sky. Then came an impact and an explosion that made the earth heave. Right where the Sorcerer-Prophet stood, a meteorite fell. The impact created a crater about ten meters in diameter. In its center stood the still-living Dawi-Zharr. However, Loom-Pia's strike had not left him unscathed. The magical shield had failed to contain everything. The Chaos Dwarf's armor was shattered, his beard was smoking, and his left arm was partially torn off.
— You have not won yet! — the Dawi-Zharr bellowed, raising his war-pick. — By the will of Hashut, Father of Darkness...
— Zeroing complete, — the Hypnotoad said with indifferent melancholy. — Removing the nuisance.
He snapped my fingers, and all four remaining sparks flared at once. Four more meteorites slammed into the Sorcerer-Prophet from four directions. Where he had stood only moments ago, nothing remained but a deep, smoking crater.
Oh, you chose the wrong toad to measure magic with, Mordian whatever-grip. And thanks for the dagger. I'll keep it for myself, if it survived the blast.
Loom-Pia levitated us away, descending in the middle of a dark forest.
— We have difficult work ahead, warm-blooded one, — he addressed me, raising a stone cage from the ground with a wave of my hands and surrounding us with it. — We shall restore your protection, and then we shall meditate for a long time. Your internal energies must be balanced. Your spirit has endured excessive strain today.
— Is it safe to stay here? There might still be enemies wandering around.
— In addition to the stone armor, I shall surround us with protective wards and send word to that elven creature. She will find us. She will help. Her spells shall be permitted, while all others shall be destroyed.
That sounded like a solid plan.
— Good. So it's time to pull that special bullet out of me, purge the filth, and meditate?
— Precisely so, warm-blooded one. We have done good work today in the name of the Great Plan. Now we must rest and prepare for the next battle.
— Good work? That sounds almost like a compliment, — I smirked, feeling a massive wave of exhaustion approaching.
Still, we really had done some good work. Tamurkhan was dead. I had managed to squish the maggot, and as a bonus, the Hypnotoad had pelted a very persistent Sorcerer-Prophet with rocks. Two dangerous figures of the Chaos movement were gone. It wasn't saving the world yet, but it was a solid step forward toward that goal.
And now, to rest...