Lord-Aquilor Karjeon watches the orruks navigating the mud, blissfully unaware of the Stormcast just a few dozen metres away from them, watching from what little cover the bogs offer. Or perhaps not blissfully, he wonders; he knows that orruks love nothing more than a good fight, and his Star-Beckoners are always ready to give one.
Especially now, with the orruks in their way. With just a twitch of his hand, Karjeon signals the attack.
The first the orruks knew of the attack was volleys of javelins falling among their number to pierce skulls and pin limbs; not even a few seconds later, the Stormcast and gryph-chargers descended upon them with javelin and axe, claw and beak. They fight in silence; though it is eery to Karjeon to see his ferocious Star-Beckoners fight like Anvils of the Heldenhammer, they need stealth to infiltrate the enemy’s territory.
It paid off. The surprise was total, exacerbated by how impossible it should be that cavalry could launch an ambush without being mired in the bog. The Star-Beckoners punished that assumption as their aether-soaring mounts tore through the enemy, as they had already done so several times trekking through Gorkoyuk.
To their credit, the orruks rally well enough under the assault. One, a roaring brute standing as tall as a gryph-charger, swings his maul to catch a charging Pallador in the chest, sending her flying off her mount and splashing into the mud. Her gryph-charger stumbles as they hiss and try to turn on the orruk, but he’s already standing over the Pallador, raising his maul for a killing blow.
Before the hammer can fall, Karjeon is already drawing a bead on the orruk’s head with his pistol. One pull of the trigger, the pistol barks and sends a bolt of celestial power punching through his head, tearing half of it off. The brute blinks with his remaining eye and sways for a moment, as if not fully comprehending his death, before collapsing forward onto the Pallador.
He must have been this mob’s leader, for the last few survivors break and try to run. But the mud that had failed to trap the Vanguard-Palladors betrays them a second time as they sink knee-deep into it. The rest is simple butchery by the Stormcast.
Without needing orders, his Star-Beckoners dismount and start ferrying the corpses deeper into the swamp, hiding all trace of the battle. Not that it is fully needed here; more than once Karjeon had seen corpses bob up in the filthy waters of the Gorkoyuk, as if simply placed there by a macabre hand. Some of those bodies he swears he’d seen multiple times in different places. A few more dead orruks might not alert the enemy of the Stormcasts’ presence, but it never hurt to be careful.
Karjeon dismounts from Karamis and walks over to the prone Pallador, still struggling under the brute’s corpse.
“You can still fight?” He asks her, taking hold of the orruk’s shoulders and hauling it off her. “If your lung is broken, kick me once in the leg for no, twice for yes.”
“I’m fine.” She croaks, pushing herself upright on one arm. The other is leaking blood onto the mud, and she seems to be avoiding putting weight on it.
“Arm’s hurting, but I just need an axe or a sword and I can keep going.” She bashfully adds, noticing his scrutiny.
“Very well.”
Karjeon kneels down to thread an arm under her shoulder then hauls her upright. He takes his axe from his belt and proffers it to her.
“But if I don’t have this back by the end of today I’ll know who to blame, yes?” He says, the threat made into a jibe by his light tone.
“I’ll protect it with my life.” The Stormcast chuckles back. Her gryph-charger butts their head against her unwounded shoulder, cooing softly to demand her attention, and so Karjeon releases her to comfort her mount.
Karamis squawks at Karjeon as he returns to his side. He smiles at him under his helmet, and reaches out to rub his feathers.
“I know. One wound after half a dozen ambushes? We’ve been lucky so far.”
“Luckier still if that shot doesn’t bring half the horde on us.” A gruff voice sounds behind him. He turns around, already knowing who’s addressing him.
The venerable Hunter-Prime glares at him, unhelmed head letting close-cropped grey hair hang around wrinkles. Old as a mortal and older still as a Stormcast, she rarely smiles and never laughs, her dour nature making her an odd placement in the Star-Beckoners.
There is also nobody else that Karjeon trusts more to cover his back than Ledrione Surefoot.
“You ordered us to use blades, remember? Nothing loud enough to give away our position.” Ledrione scolds, but that just makes his smile widen.
“I did! So I thought that if anyone could break that rule, it’d be me!”
He raises up his hands in mock surrender.
“Don’t worry, I’ll slap myself on the hand after the battle.”
Ledrione keeps staring at Karjeon, until he eventually lowers his hands, loses his humour and admits;
“A pistol shot might have warned our enemy of our presence. A Stormcast going back to Azyr would have definitely done so.”
Ledrione grunts, accepting the explanation, before turning back to her retinue as if the exchange had never happened. She motions to one Hunter consulting an astral compass.
“Compasses’ are still working fine. Whoever told you that the Gorkoyuk is unnavigable was…”
“Unfamiliar with the Vanguard?”
“I was going to say an idiot, but I guess that’s why you’re the Lord-Aquilor and not me.”
“And the Star-Beckoners are poorer for it.”
“We wouldn’t even be here if I was in charge.” Ledrione retorts, her toneless voice making it difficult to tell if she meant it as a compliment or a criticism. “Going this deep into the Maw’s territory is risking being surrounded.”
“You can always double back if you want.”
She spins around and glares at him once more, despite his playful tone.
“Like hell I am. Someone needs to pull you out of the fire, especially without…”
She surprises Karjeon by faltering; though her expression is kept locked tight, he can see the glimmer of pain in her eyes.
“I know.”
He reaches out and places a hand on her shoulder. He removes his helmet, showing her a rare sombre look.
“It always was a lot easier with the Blackhammers. I miss them too.”
“Missing them’s not going to help with saving Amasya.” Ledrione murmurs, without much conviction.
“It won’t.” He agrees. He smiles slightly and claps her on the shoulder. “So we’ll just do our best by ourselves, yes?”
Ledrione’s eyes narrow, but Karjeon knows her well enough that her annoyance is mostly feigned. Mostly.
“You think that I’m going get sappy and let you down?”
“Now that I have piqued your pride, I know you won’t.”
He laughs and dances backwards before she can land a punch on him.
“So let’s go save Amasya, yes?”
As if on cue, the Hunter with the astral compass raises a fist and points in a direction, showing the safe path ahead. It’s time to move again.
“You’re lucky you’re not a Hunter in my retinue, Karjeon.” Ledrione grumbles before she slams her helmet back on, back to her usual self again.
Karjeon just keeps laughing as he remounts Karamis. Riding with his Palladors, his laughter is swallowed whole by the bog, until it disappears into the mists, where the bloody work continues.
