“You still haven’t told me where we’re going.”
Claney Beamard, Unwavering Guardian of the Forge Eternal and first Knight-Defensor of Sigmar, turned his face from the clear sky and looked down at his companion. The Skink Starpriest’s eyes were closed, his slim, reptilian body swaying gently with the rocking of the ferry boat as it traversed the river. The Seraphon sat with his yellow legs crossed, his Starstone staff laid across them. One serpentine eye opened and rolled toward the Stormcast Eternal. The nictitating membrane flicked once.
“The Plan reveals itself in due time,” To’car-Hualuat, the Carnivorous Vision replied, then closed his eyes again.
“I think that means he doesn’t know, Elgan,” Claney said to the large bird-of-prey perched upon his pauldron. The Aetherwing looked at him and cocked his head, then turned away.
Claney let out a small cough of a laugh, and the skink made an annoyed growl. The two had been travelling for days now, the Starpriest somehow having convinced Lord-Celestant Sathicus Valourmane that Claney’s presence was needed as part of the Great Plan. Together, they had passed through a realm-gate into Ghyran, the realm of life, and begun their trek. The Seraphon never let on about their destination or even any steps on their journey, but seemed to somehow know where they were going without actually knowing. That, or the lizard bluffed very convincingly. Either way, their journey eventually led them to board this ferry and floating south on the Lustrare River.
They had passed through the Northern Lustrare River Valley and the Grand Life Mountains were starting to give way to marshy, heavily wooded lowlands. Up ahead, it looked like the trees grew thick over the river. They’d see much less of the sky soon. He tapped his pauldron and pointed up. Elgan shifted, then launched himself, wings spread. Better let the bird enjoy the open skies while he still could.
“We’ll be comin’ up on a branch in the river soon,” one of the sailors, a middle-aged man with a paunch and several days stubble, said as he approached the two. Claney turned to look at the man, but To’car-Hualuat showed no outward response. “We can stay on the main body o’ the Lustrare, or go along Huron Creek. We can make trades either way, but the Cap’n thought one o’ you masters might have a preference.”
Claney turned to the Starpriest expectantly, but the Skink still gave no response for several seconds. Silently, he rose, staff held in both clawed hands and lifted it, his head tilted toward the heavens, eyes still closed. The staff began to move in a slow circle, the feathers that adorned the Seraphon’s headdress and arms fluttering with the movement. Then, he brought his scaly arms down with a jerk, the butt of the staff striking the boat deck.
“The main river,” To’car-Hualuat hissed. “Toward the High Temple of Tzunki.” Having spoken, he lowered himself back to the deck and assumed the same position he had been in most of the trip. “Tha Plan decrees it.”
Claney shrugged. “You heard him.”
The sailor looked between the large man in gold and green armour, and the small lizard-like figure shook his head, and hurried away, casting a glance back before disappearing from sight.
“I think you scared him,” the Stormcast remarked striding forward so that he was just in front of the Starpriest. He held out his right arm and Elgan dove from the sky, alighting on the outstretched limb.
“He will be more scared before we reach our destination,” the Skink replied. “The taint of Chaos lies ahead.”
“You’re sensing something?” The great bird moved to Claney’s pauldron and he lowered his arm.
“You do not? I thought Stormcast were as sensitive to the Great Enemy as we. Disappointing.”
Claney bit back a retort, then took his golden helm from under his left arm and placed it over his head, strapping it into place. He now bore the impassive countenance that struck fear into the heart of many, with the likeness of Ghal Maraz, the Great Shatterer, sculpted into the crown of the helmet. He grasped the hammer strapped to his back and readied it, feeling the weight of it in his hands.
They passed beneath the canopy of trees and the light from the sun dimmed, streaming through in patches. The only sound was the sailors at work on the ship, and the sounds of the river splashing against the hull. Claney would have expected more animal sounds. Elgan shifted on his shoulder, moving in a way that the Stormcast had come to recognize as nervousness.
So apparently he was the only one not feeling it yet, getting shown up by a bird.
As they approached the first bend in the river, the source of the unease became visible. Rats. There were several Skaven along the banks of the river. Clumps of them were working together to carry large barrels of some unidentifiable green sludge between them. They tipped the barrels toward the river, pouring out their contents. Almost immediately, several dead fish floated to the surface.
“Skaven!” one of the crew shouted. That drew the rats attention, and they began shouting and chittering, pointing toward the boat. There was a commotion toward the back of the group, which turned out to be two of the vermin bringing forward a ratling gun. The barrels of the weapon spun, and then unleashed a volley of rounds that struck the side of the ferry.
“Nagash’s teeth,” Claney cursed. He muttered a quick incantation, then flung his arms directly out from his sides. A glowing purple aura seemed to envelop the ship as the Knight-Defensor cast a warding spell. The next burst of fire from the ratling gun failed to hit.
The instant the spell was cast, the Stormcast was on the move. Powerful legs drove him forward. He ran and jumped, using the railing of the boat to propel himself forward, the combination of force and weight leaving an impression. His feet thudded down hard on the riverbank, and he charged forward. Before him, Skaven squealed in alarm. Some retreated from his approach while others grabbed swords and spears. Somewhere, a bell began to ring.
Claney focused on the rats directly ahead of him. Holding his hammer with both hands, he swung in a deadly arc, the massive head striking several of the Skaven and breaking bones and sweeping them aside. He followed the initial assault up with another deadly swing of the hammer, battering more of the Chaotic foe.
When Claney jumped, Elgan had flown from his shoulder and joined in the assault now as well, swooping in with razor-sharp talons and snapping with his beak. Rats swung arms and weapons ineffectively at the bird as it wove through the air, dodging their attempts to harm it.
A whirring sound clicked on, and Claney recognized it as the sound of the ratling guns spinning up to attack. The Stormcast moved, but not quite fast enough. Several rounds ricocheted off his Sigmarite armour, but one or two found their mark, biting through the softer material at the joints. They were small wounds that wouldn’t lead to another reforging, but they hurt, and they slowed Claney’s assault. The clan rats shouted as they saw him stagger, taking advantage of his momentary lapse and swarming over him. He fought them off, but their numbers were greater than he had first seen from the boat. There must have been more of them in the woods or gathering more barrels to pour in the river.
Before they could overwhelm him, an artificial brilliance filled the area with light, and bolts of mystic lightning struck the mob. A glance backwards let Claney see To’car-Hualuat standing at the prow of the ship, Starstone staff pointed in his direction. Another bolt of lightning leapt from it, striking more of the rats, filling the air with the smell of burnt fur. Skaven squealed in pain or fear, and then the crowd began to melt away, rats scurrying back into the forest. Within moments, they were gone.
To’car-Hualuat signalled something to the ferrymen, and the boat turned, coming to shore so that Claney could climb aboard. Before he did, he gathered every barrel he could find, then asked the men for a torch. Calling on his own magical abilities, he blasted them with an arcane bolt, taking time to stamp out any pieces of wood that were left burning afterwards.
“We’ll need to stop at Eversong Village now,” the Captain stated. “I’ll have to see what those rats did to my boat, and we can trade our goods there. Plus, you can have someone look at those cuts.”
Claney glanced down and noticed small traces of blood on his armour from where he’d been struck.
“This delay is acceptable,” To’car-Hualuat said, “so long as it is brief.”
With that, Claney gave the boat away from shore and hopped back on board, and they continued their journey down the river.
