CHAPTER 17

In the clearing, he could see a small band of Wood Elves besieged by a group of Beastmen.  They were hopelessly outnumbered but he knew they would fight to the death to defend their homeland.  The small group of Chaos Warriors stood back watching, almost enjoying the bloodshed.  With them appeared to be a sorcerer.  They would have to take him out first.  Suddenly, Lyndryell heard a noise up ahead on the trail. He motioned the others back in the door and ducked behind a rock near the entrance.  There were three guards behind a large boulder about halfway down the trail.  But they did not see him as they were watching the battle ahead.  Lyndryell motioned the others to come out.  “We must get the guards quietly so as not to alert anyone to our presence.  We don’t want to get trapped up here.”  They crept silently down the trail.  Lyndryell knew there wasn’t much time left as the Wood Elves were slowly losing ground and could not last much longer.  He motioned for Aenarion to ready his bow.  Enrico’s dagger appeared in his hand as if by magic.  Lyndryell was always amazed how fast the young Noble could retrieve it in a tight situation.  Lyndryell unsheathed his own dagger and made ready his attack.  With a signal of his hand, two daggers and an arrow hurtled through the air finding their mark.  Where three Beastmen once stood laughing at the plight of the Wood Elves, there were only three prone bodies choking on their own blood.  The group walked down the trail, Lyndryell in the lead.  The twin blades of Orion waving ominously over his head. Garrick was close behind.  Enrico unholstered his pistol, wanting to get a shot off before he got into the fray.  Aenarion fired a couple more arrows and hurried to join Lyndryell and Garrick.  Enrico fired, hitting the sorcerer in the back, knocking him off of his feet.  The Chaos Warrior turned just in time to see Lyndryell and Garrick charging down the trail.  Two Beastmen quickly jumped in between the charging duo and their fallen master but they were quickly cut down.  The interference gave the sorcerer enough to climb to his feet.  Lyndryell stared at him, that shot should have killed him, but he shrugged it off as if it were nothing.  Lyndryell didn’t have long to contemplate it as a small group of Beastmen broke off from the Elves and charged him.  Garrick quickly came to his aid slicing one of the foul creatures nearly in two, but he ignored the others and headed straight for the Sorcerer and his Chaos bodyguards, four heavily armoured warriors with huge two-handed swords.  Lyndryell could not follow as he was smothered by the charging Beastman.  He hacked and slashed with the twin blades of Orion, cutting them down in a whirling dance of death.  Then Aenarion was beside him, sword in hand, cutting a bloody path through the foul creatures.

Up on the hill, Enrico reloaded his pistol, eyed his target, and fired.

Garrick’s mighty axe reflected the light of the midday sun as it swung in a wide arc and disemboweled the first Chaos Warrior.  The other three were upon him inn an instant.  Garrick blocked blow after blow trying to gain some sort of an advantage over his foes.  He struck one on the arm, but it was a glancing blow off of his armour.  Garrick’s axe went wide momentarily knocking him off balance.  The second Chaos Warrior saw the opening and struck immediately.  Garrick just managed to fend off the blow and fell to the ground.  Where was the third Chaos Warrior?  Garrick waited for the blow he knew was to come, but then a shot rang out.  Garrick looked over and saw the third Chaos Warrior fall the ground.  He praised his luck and quickly jumped to his feet and dispatched the second Chaos Warrior who was still trying to figure out where the shot came from.  The remaining Chaos Warrior looked over at his slain comrades and smiled.  “They were weak!” was all he said as he raised his monstrous weapon over his head.  “Prepare to die!”

The Chaos sorcerer, seeing three of his bodyguards slain was taking no chances.  He hurried over to the large group of Beastmen attacking the Elves.  Enrico saw him move and shouted to Gilchrist ahead of him.  The two took a direct path toward the sorcerer, but were met at the bottom of the trail by a throng of Beastmen.  Enrico drew his sword from its scabbard and parried an incoming blow from one of the enraged Beastmen; he quickly recovered and thrust his sword at the creature’s chest who blocked it with his shield.  Much to his surprise, the sword cut through his shield as if it were paper and plunged into his heart.  Enrico pulled his sword from the dying Beastman and regarded it with renewed admiration.  His respite was short-lived, though, as he dove to the ground to avoid an incoming blow.

Gilchrist’s sabre dripped red as he slashed at the pagan beasts.  There were two directly in front of him blocking his way to the sorcerer.  He struck one in the arm, wounding it, but he had to leap back to narrowly avoid being struck by the other.  He regained the initiative and attacked the new threat.  He was surprised to see it fall to the ground with an arrow in its back.  His cloak billowed in the wind as he wheeled to face his other attacker.  It swung its huge club and was thrown off balance.  Gilchrist, seizing the opportunity, quickly slew the beast and continued towards the sorcerer.

The exhausted Wood Elf reached into his quiver and pulled another arrow from his rapidly depleting supply.  When he spotted one of the humans that had just slew a Beastmen, running across the clearing.  The Elf watched as another Beastman started chasing from behind.  He was tempted to let them fight it out and deal with whomever was left standing, but as he contemplated which was the lesser of two evils, he spied Lyndryell at the far edge of the clearing.  He recognized the Wardancer as one of his own.  He let the arrow fly and dropped the Beastman in his tracks.

Enrico regained his feet and lunged at the Beastman with his sword.  His blade hit nothing but air as the Beastman dodged the attack, but as the Beastman moved to avoid the sword Enrico saw an opening and punched it in the jaw with his fist.  He creature reeled from the blow and Enrico finished it off before it could recover.  He ran after Gilchrist who had just finished off a Beastman and took off running.  He saw Beastmen lying on the ground with arrows in their backs, and then he heard something fly past his head.  He turned around just in time to see one of the Beastmen fall to the ground with an arrow in his chest, not ten paces behind him.  “The remaining Wood Elves must have regrouped in the woods,” he thought to himself as he continued after the Witchhunter.

Garrick was stunned by the strength of the blow.  Sparks flew as powerful weapons collided.  Again and again the blades struck one another, but Garrick was tiring.  He could feel his knees begin to buckle under the powerful blows and he knew that if he went down he would die.  His mind began to wander back to a time of innocence.  Back to when he was a Bard and just sang of epic battles.  All of that just seemed a distant memory now, though.  His father had forced him to fight.  To fight for his life and he had learned well.  To his own disgust, though he didn’t want to admit it, he felt as if sometimes he enjoyed it.  Maybe not enjoyed, but he didn’t hate it anymore.  Then the voice in his head was back, the voice that seemed like a dream.  It talked to him, but he was never sure whether it was his subconscious or if it was real.  “Garrick, my son, now is not the time to die.  Your companions are counting on you, your friends in Skavenblight need your help, call upon the power of your dark blade, it will aid you in times of dire circumstances.  You need only call to it and it will respond.”  Garrick’s mind raced, “Call upon it and it will aid you,” he repeated in his mind over and over as the mighty Chaos Warrior continued hammering blow after blow.  Garrick was almost to his knees now; he could feel himself begin to go down.  “Call upon the axe,” he heard in his head over and over again.  He tentatively called to it but nothing happened.  His adversary’s blows were coming faster now, Garrick new he was almost out of time.  He reached down inside of himself, into a dark recess of his mind that he didn’t know was there.  Something deep inside of him responded.  It connected with the dark blade and it responded immediately.

Aenarion dove to the side as the spear passed through the air where his chest had been just moments earlier.  “That was just a little too close,” he thought to himself as he jumped back to his feet.  He had fought his way toward Lyndryell and now they were in what only could be described as a mêlée at the bottom of the trail.  Though the remaining Beastmen they faced were now much more tentative than they had been just moments ago.  As they watched the Elves slaughter their unfortunate comrades who had been so foolhardy to rush forth on the initial assault.  But, attack they did and the Elves were prepared.  The first Beastman swung a halberd at the Wood Elf, but realized too late what a big mistake he had made.  His weapon was much too large and unwieldy against the acrobatic Wardancer.  Lyndryell, predicting his opponent’s move dove forward under the swing and disemboweled the creature.  He rolled to his feet and with a backhand blow sliced another one across the throat before he could even raise his defenses.  The remaining Beastmen charged Lyndryell, but Aenarion quickly came to his aid and the duo, swords flashing, quickly finished them off.  “Enrico and Gilchrist are over there,” Aenarion shouted pointing to their comrades charging the last group of Beastmen.  “Then let’s GO!”, Lyndryell replied as he took off across the clearing.  Neither one seeing Garrick off to the side fighting the battle of his life.

The obsidian colored axe flashed bright yellow as Garrick called upon the dark power within.  He could feel an energy course through him as the Ancient Evil was released.  His mind was flooded with horrible thoughts of hatred, revenge, torture, and sacrifice; all of the slaughter that the ancient weapon had ever brought about rushed at him in a flurry of images that made his blood run cold.  To his horror, he was drawn deeper and deeper into the ancient relic.  He fought it at first, but then he heard the Voice again.  “It is true that the weapon you hold has been involved in many evil deeds, as it was forged in the fires of the Abyss.  But Garrick, you control the blade now.  After all, a weapon is only as evil as the one who wields it.”  Garrick, convinced by the argument of the unseen entity, released his mind to the ancient relic.  They merged as if they were one being and Garrick discovered the awesome power of the mighty blade.  Where once there had been exhaustion and fear, there was now eagerness and anticipation.  Another blow struck his powerful weapon.  But now, he was no longer kneeling.  The power of the blade coursed through him.  His opponent took a step back as Garrick shrugged off the blows that were being rained down upon him.

Gilchrist charged the Beastman protecting the Sorcerer.  He saw the Sorcerer lift his hands and start to chant, and then he felt the reassuring warmth of the Amulet of Charadris as it countered the effects of the evil magic.  He plunged into the Beastman his sabre, swinging a bloody path of destruction.  Then Enrico was there beside him, a Beastman swung at Gilchrist but he deftly sidestepped the blow and ran by, he was not to be denied his quarry.  The Beastman looked on surpised as he finished his swing and there was nobody there.  His surprise turned to shock as he felt Enrico’s cold steel plunge into his heart.  Gilchrist reached the Sorcerer and had to dive to the side as it swung its sceptre in a wide arc.  Gilchrist got to his feed and studied the creature before him.  It had long yellow robes with an ornate sash around its neck.  The sash was covered with runes, evil runes he knew, for it hurt just to look at them.  Its face was smooth and unblemished with a creamy white complexion.  It had no hair save for two horns growing out of its head, but what really drew his attention were the piercing red eyes.  They burned in its skull.  They were eyes that could only look on in hatred for there were no other emotions in the glowing orbs.  It swung the sceptre again, but Gilchrist was ready this time and blocked it neatly taking the offensive with a thrust of his own.  The Sorcerer was exceptionally quick.  It jumped back but brought its weapon down in a sweeping arc knocking Gilchrist’s sword out to the side.  It then kicked his exposed chest.  Gilchrist staggered, fighting to get back breath that he had lost.  The Sorcerer laughed as Gilchrist stood there gasping, trying to fill his lungs with precious life-giving air.  It hit him full across the face, turning him completely around.  It struck him again on the back, sending him to his knees.  The Sorcerer laughed harder now, raising its sceptre for the final life-ending blow.  As his weapon started on its downward flight, Gilchrist turned with drawn pistol and shot him between the eyes at point black range.  “May Sigmar have mercy on you soul” was all he said as the Sorcerer’s head exploded, sending blood and brain matter in all directions.

Lord Tumult stared in disbelief as the warrior before him came to his feet amidst a flurry of powerful blows.  I am the chosen of Tzeench, the Chaos God of Magic.  Nothing mortal should be able to withstand the onslaught.  My weapon was created with powerful Chaos Magics nothing could survive.  I  have never been beaten in battle, yet here is this mere mortal blocking all of my attacks. Here is this mere mortal stalking toward me. Here is this mere mortal preparing to swing his giant blade.  Here is this mere mortal about to cut off my hea . . . . . . . .

The few remaining Beastmen who were still alive scattered for their lives but were quickly cut down by Wood Elf arrows.

The Wood Elves slowly came into the clearing, still a little wary of the five strangers.