Mark of Chaos (33 page)

With a shout, Stefan threw himself forwards, aiming a blow at the warrior's head. The massive figure caught the blow on the blade of his sword, and swung his spiked mace towards Stefan's chest. It impacted with his shield, throwing him backwards into another man. The warrior stepped towards him, but suddenly halted, a slender blade protruding from his chest. He fell heavily, and von Kessel saw a pair of the elf swordmasters step into the breach, their tall blades
weaving around them in a blur. They moved effortlessly, gracefully swaying out of the way of blows, and striking with deadly swiftness. Several of Stefan's greatswords stepped forwards to join them, moving protectively in front of their lord. Their movement looked clumsy and slow in comparison to that of the elves, but they were no less effective, their heavy swords smashing into the Chaos warriors with brute force.

Stefan climbed to his feet and rejoined the fray. He smashed his shield into the face of a marauder clambering over the ramparts. He drove his sword hilt into the face of another man as he reached the top of a tall ladder, and he fell into darkness.

The captain heaved on the ladder, pushing it backwards. It swung slowly away from the wall, taking the dozen men clinging to it to their deaths.

A bare-chested warrior leapt over the ramparts and rammed his sword into the back of one of the slender, white-robed elf swordmasters. The other elf turned towards his comrade, sorrow in his eyes, and his blade sang out, decapitating the man. A heavy axe slammed into the elf's tall helmet, smashing through the silver metal and caving his skull in. He dropped without a sound.

More ladders slammed against the fortress walls, too many to push away. Handgunners in the towers to either side of the length of wall continued to fire into the horde, smoke rising from amongst the crenellations and arrow slits. The cannon continued to boom, and the mortars fired as quickly as they could be reloaded, killing dozens with every shot, but there seemed to be a never-ending tide of warriors to step into any gaps created by the explosions.

Stefan was weary beyond belief. Attacks had been made on the walls around Talabheim for almost a week, sporadically hitting at different wall sections and towers, but the assault against the fortress leading into the Wizard's Way had been constant. The ground around the base of the walls was piled high with the dead. They were piled especially high in the killing grounds where the walls were angled back. Hundreds upon hundreds of the warriors of the Dark Gods had been mercilessly cut down by crossbow and handgun, there, as they sought to raise ladders against those tall walls, and the stench of death was almost unbearable.

A longer, protracted siege would have proven more effective had there been no threat of Empire reinforcements arriving, but the Chaos general was not a subtle commander, Stefan decided. He would wear down the defenders by throwing wave after wave of his troops against the fortress, attacking relentlessly until victory was achieved, or he ran out of men. The Empire troops had killed thousands of the enemy already, but Stefan knew that it was not enough, and that this first fortress would soon fall.

Talagaad at the base of the crater of Talabheim was nothing more than a smoking ruin, flattened by the enemy, and the harbour was filled with corpses. Those foolish villagers who had refused to leave their homes had been nailed to cartwheels, or impaled, screaming, on long spears. These grisly totems, no doubt some dark offering to the gods of Chaos, demoralised the defenders, who could see that many of the people were still alive, even as the black carrion birds pecked at them.

Massive beasts stalked amongst the endless horde of Chaos. Brutish ogres, hulking creatures dressed in
crude heavy armour, roared as they charged towards the gates of the fortress, hefting makeshift battering rams under their massive arms. Trolls lumbered forwards, their gaits awkward, bony spikes protruding from the thick skin on their backs. They were mutated, evil beasts, some of them having multiple arms, or two heads sprouting from one torso. Stefan had fought trolls before, but those had been the stony-skinned trolls of the mountains, not these twisted creatures that had been mutated from their continued exposure to Chaos. Still, if they were anything like stone trolls, they would be virtually impossible to kill. This was proven when one of the creatures was struck in the chest by a cannonball. It was thrown to the ground, its chest destroyed utterly, but it pushed itself to its feet, roaring in anger. It pulled the cannonball from its caved-in chest, and launched it back at the fortress, even as the crushed bones of its body began to reform.

Stefan killed another man with a thrust to his chest, and wiped blood from his brow. He became aware of a deep reverberation that was making the ground and the fortress itself shake, and he looked out over the sea of the enemy to discover what this new horror was. His eyes widened as he saw the giant striding forwards, a tree trunk held in one of its meaty hands.

The creature stood fifty feet tall, and horns curled from its massive forehead. Tusk-like teeth protruded from its jaw, and its three eyes blinked heavily. A necklace of human limbs hung around its neck, and Albrecht was horrified as he saw a cavernous tooth-lined mouth open up in the creature's gut. The giant strode through the press of Chaos warriors and marauders, breaking into a lumbering run as it neared the fortress.

Arrows thudded into the face and chest of the giant, having as little effect as insect bites. It bellowed as it ran, and the earth rumbled under its massive footsteps. It did not slow down at all as it hurtled towards the fortress wall, and men backed away from the battlements as it drew ever nearer. Lowering its shoulder, the giant slammed into the wall. Men were knocked from their feet by the impact, and the wall cracked, stones tumbling to the ground as the wall shifted.

Stefan was thrown to his knees along with the other soldiers. The giant's massive head, horrifyingly enormous up close, reached almost to the top of the walls, and it raised the tree trunk in its fist high over its head before slamming it down onto the walls, crushing half a dozen men. It laughed crudely, spraying spittle over the crenellations, and swept its club across the battlements, smashing dozens of men from the wall to fall to their deaths below. The giant's laughter was cut short as it yelped in pain and dropped its club, pulling its hand back towards it, dripping blood, two of its fingers severed by the blades of an elf swordmaster. Its face creasing in childlike anger, the giant balled its hand into a fist and smashed the elf into the stones, pulverising it beneath his knuckles.

'Aim at its eyes!' shouted Stefan, and a flurry of crossbow bolts and arrows streaked towards the monster.

The giant swatted at the missiles as if they were flies, and ducked its head below the ramparts. It bent down and gripped the massive iron portcullis that had been dropped in front of the great doors of the fortress. Gripping the iron bars tightly in its massive hands, it began to pull at it, massive muscles straining. With a roar and the wrenching sound of tearing metal, the giant ripped the portcullis free, making stones tumble down to the ground. Lifting the portcullis over its head, the giant heaved and threw it at one of the tall towers that was interspersed between the wall sections, making part of the ancient stone structure crumble under the impact.

An arrow sank into one of the giant's three eyes and it roared in pain, staggering backwards. It stepped on a Chaos warrior, crushing the man into the ground, and stumbled. Its balance lost, the giant fell heavily backwards. It seemed to take an age to hit the ground, and the earth reverberated under the impact. A dozen warriors were caught beneath it, and were instantly slain. Arrows and handgun shots peppered the skin of the struggling giant until a cannonball ended its life smashing its head to a bloody pulp.

Still, the giant had done its job, for the massive portcullis had been ripped clear, and already dozens of Norse warriors were charging forwards with massive axes towards the great wooden door of the fortress. Other Norse warriors ran with them, holding their shields over their heads to protect themselves from the arrows and rocks that rained down from the gatehouse above. Burning oil was tipped upon them, and many screamed in pain as the searing liquid splashed over them. Still others survived, and began to smash their axes into the sturdy wooden door.

Stefan left the walls, racing down the blood-slick stairs to the ground level of the fortress. 'With me!' he commanded, ordering a group of greatswords with him as he raced towards the gatehouse. Forty men, led by Sergeant Albrecht, were there already, propping up the great wooden doors with beams and timbers. The Norscans swung their axes with great force, and it would be but minutes before the door gave way. 'Hold steady, men of Ostermark!' shouted Stefan.

The door suddenly exploded inwards in a shower of splintering timbers, throwing the men of Ostermark behind it to the ground. 'Sorcery!' snarled Albrecht, and he led the greatswords forwards to meet their enemies as they surged through the smashed entranceway.

The battle in the gatehouse was brutal. The Norse threw themselves at the greatswords with renewed vigour, led by a blond giant of a man who fought with a pair of thick-bladed swords. This man cut down men left and right, his speed and strength far beyond that of normal men. Albrecht hacked down several Norscans, and Stefan and his soldiers entered the melee, lending their weight to the crucial combat.

Ulkjar Moerk the Headtaker butchered his way through the greatswords, his twin swords cutting and stabbing. With one blade, he blocked the strike of one of the men, hacking with his other blade deep into the man's neck. Arterial blood sprayed out in a fountain. 'Blood for the Blood God!' roared Ulkjar.

Stefan drove his Runefang into the throat of one of the Norscans, and blood bubbled up from the wound. 'For Sigmar and for the Emperor!' he shouted, and threw himself fully into the fray.

Ulkjar heard the name of the hated false deity of the Empire, and his eyes swung to fix on Stefan. He began to cut his way towards him, butchering everyone in his path. His body was covered in cuts and deep wounds, any one of which would have been fatal to a lesser man. He hacked the head from the shoulders of another man, and launched himself forwards to cut down the man who had shouted out the name of the false god.

Stefan stepped backwards as the swift blow arced towards his head, raising his Runefang defensively before him. The power of the blow was immense, and he was knocked backwards by the force. The second blade of the towering blond-haired devil swung in towards his gut, and he managed to get his shield in the way, but was buffeted backwards again by the force of the blow, his arm numb. Regaining his footing, he feinted a blow at the massive Norscan's head, before turning the blow in mid-air towards his chest.

Ulkjar saw the blow coming, and turned it aside with one of his swords. He was shocked at the power that was held in the blade of his foe. He could feel the dangerous magic within the weapon, and he knew that it held the power to kill him when other weapons would merely injure. He attacked with renewed fury, swinging high and low in a dizzying display of prowess, forcing his enemy further back. Lashing out almost lazily, Ulkjar slew a greatsword who was trying to aid his captain, and drove his other blade into the heart of another.

Seeing his opportunity, Stefan lunged forwards. As if he had been expecting the attack, the towering Norscan slapped the Runefang to the ground, and stabbed forwards, intending to impale Stefan. The captain twisted away from the blade at the last minute, and the sword pierced his side painfully, but not fatally. He cried out, and dropped to one knee.

'Protect the captain!' came a shout, and a heavy blow struck Ulkjar from behind. He swung around and rammed one of his blades straight through the body of his attacker.

As Stefan was dragged back by his greatswords, he cried out as he saw the fatal blow. 'Albrecht!' he shouted.

The sergeant, impaled on the Norscan's sword, turned his head as he heard his name called. Blood rose in his mouth, and dripped from his lips. His eyes met the eyes of his captain as von Kessel was bustled away from the battle. Ulkjar pulled his sword out of the sergeant, and he fell to the ground, dead.

Ulkjar bellowed in frustration at his foe escaping from him. A portcullis slammed down behind Stefan von Kessel as he was bustled into the half-mile long tunnel.

Those Empire soldiers remaining in the outer fortress battled hard, but within minutes the fortress was overrun, and every Empire soldier within was slaughtered.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Over a thousand
Norse and Kurgan warriors lay dead or dying in the tunnel. The stench of blood and death was heavy in the enclosed space, as the corpses piled up on top of each other. Almost six hours earlier, the portcullis that led from the outer fortress into the Wizard's Way had been lifted, and the first men raced along the half-mile tunnel, their screams and shouts echoing loudly. This first warband, which had been given a great honour by being the first chosen to storm the tunnel, was torn apart by cannon and handgun fire. It was but one of many warbands that were determined to be the first to breach the defences of Talabheim, and for the next six hours, warriors were directed by Hroth to charge up the tunnel into the guns of the enemy.

Hundreds of monstrous warhounds were unleashed, and they raced up the blood-slick cobbles, barking and roaring in fury. They were shot down without mercy, and their blood pooled out, mingling into the congealing mess of gore. Fur-clad marauders threw themselves forwards after the hounds, and they too were massacred, hundreds of them falling under the hail of burning lead.

Great pools of gore were congealing beneath the corpses piling high within the tunnel. Fresh soldiers replaced weary handgunners, and the Empire commanders walked amongst their troops, lifting their spirits with rousing speeches. They believed that they had beaten back the best that the Chaos forces had to throw at them, that the Chaos general must pull back and attack Talabheim from a less well-protected angle. The tunnel was narrow, and only a limited number of Chaos warriors could approach at any one time, and every assault so far had been held off without any man getting within thirty yards.