‘He fell when the necromancer stabbed him.’
They both looked around.
‘We need to get out of here,’ said Maleneth, looking past the Stormcast Eternal to the mist towers. There were hundreds more ghouls approaching from every direction. Even with the Slayer they could never face down so many. ‘That sorcerer you put so much faith in has abandoned us.’
She leapt over the dead bodies, looking for Gotrek and the sorcerer, leaving Trachos to stagger after her.
They found the girl first. She had rolled down through the nest of spiny stones and landed in a heap at the bottom of the shrine. Her hood was thrown back, so they could see her flushed, furious face. Her teeth were bared, and she glowered at Maleneth like she wanted to tear her throat out.
She tried to rise, but Maleneth held a knife against her throat, smiling. ‘Just give me a reason.’
The woman was shivering with rage. ‘The Unburied will endure.’ Her eyes were so bloodshot they looked wholly red. ‘Morbium eternal!’
‘Unburied?’ Maleneth glanced at Trachos for an explanation, but the Stormcast shrugged.
The woman sneered, her words thick with hate. ‘Kill me. Be done with it. I don’t know how you uncovered the Iron Shroud, but this will not be the end of us. The ancestors will endure. As was will always be. The past remains in the now. The Unburied will still be here when the traitor-god is overturned and the–’
‘Your walls are falling,’ interrupted Maleneth, annoyed by the woman’s pompous tone. ‘Take a look.’ She hauled her to her feet and showed her the line of shrines. All of them were collapsing under the weight of the ghouls’ attacks, surrounded by storms of mist.
‘Morbium will endure,’ snapped the woman, her fingers trembling, her weapon lost.
‘Your spiky shrub is the only one still standing, and that’s only thanks to Gotrek,’ said Maleneth. At the mention of his name, she remembered that the girl had wounded the Slayer. ‘Where is he?’ she muttered, looking across the still-twitching bodies.
Trachos barged past her, striding through veils of mist, his sceptre shimmering.
‘Wait!’ demanded Maleneth, still crouched over the woman with her blade at her throat. ‘What are you?’ she said, wondering if there was any reason for letting her live. ‘Are you a necromancer?’
The woman looked appalled. ‘I’m the High Priestess of the Cerement.’
‘Good for you,’ said Maleneth, pressing on the blade.
Gotrek staggered through the mist, dazed but apparently unharmed.
He shoved Maleneth aside and dragged the white-robed woman to her feet. He held up the scythe she’d used on him and tapped it against the rune in his chest. ‘Aim higher, lass, if you get another chance.’
‘Prince Volant will have your head,’ hissed the woman. ‘When he hears you attacked the Iron Shroud, there’ll be no sorcery in all of Shyish that can protect you.’
‘The Iron Shroud?’ asked Gotrek.
Maleneth leant close, speaking with mock discretion. ‘I think she means this impregnable edifice.’ She pointed at the ruined shrines that trailed away from them in both directions.
‘Attacked?’ Gotrek shook his head. ‘What are you talking about?’ He looked at the tides of ghouls racing towards them. ‘You think these things are mine?’ He waved at the bodies that surrounded them and laughed. ‘Perhaps you didn’t notice me trimming their necks.’
The woman shook her head. ‘Then who are you?’
‘Gotrek, son of Gurni, born in the Everpeak and–’
‘Gotrek,’ said Maleneth, drawing the Slayer’s attention to the host thundering towards them.
He grunted, annoyed at the interruption, and looked back at the woman. ‘How do I get to your master?’
‘Prince Volant?’
‘Prince who?’ Gotrek shook his head. ‘Is that the Morn-Prince? Prince Volant? Is he the one who can get me to Nagash?’
The woman stared at him. ‘Nagash? You’re insane.’
Maleneth laughed. ‘She’s a sound judge of character, at least.’
‘They’re almost on us,’ said Trachos.
Maleneth glanced at Gotrek. ‘Any suggestions?’ There were so many ghouls charging through the mist that the ground was trembling.
The woman looked past Gotrek to the approaching horde and then back at the shrine.
Gotrek caught the glance. ‘Is there something you can do? What have you got in that shrine?’
‘Why do you seek Nagash?’ asked the woman. ‘To pledge allegiance?’
‘Allegiance?’ Gotrek laughed. ‘I didn’t come here to bend the bloody knee.’
‘Trachos,’ said Maleneth. The ghouls were only moments away. She could see their rolling, feverish eyes and the blood on their teeth. ‘Your staff?’
He nodded, whispered a prayer and adjusted the cogs around the sceptre’s head. Energy shimmered down the metal, splashing light over his faceplate. The air crackled as he strode away, launching into another tuneless hymn. ‘Stooping from celestial spires, he rides the storm to conquer!’
Maleneth looked back at Gotrek. Even now he seemed oblivious to the host rushing towards them. He was holding the woman’s gaze.
The woman stared at the dead ghouls Gotrek had scattered around the shrine. Her expression was tormented.
‘If you can do something, it needs to be now,’ said Maleneth, infuriated by the woman’s indecision.
They all staggered as Trachos hammered his sceptre down onto the ground. An aether-wave splashed through the mist, hitting the front ranks of the ghouls, and Trachos’ song rose in volume and fervour.
The ghouls ignited like kindling, howling as they fell, shrouded in embers.
The woman’s eyes widened. She looked at the wreckage of the other shrines and then at Gotrek’s axe and the rune in his chest, both of which were still glowing.
‘The Iron Shroud is both wall and door,’ she said. ‘If it is the will of the Unburied, I may be able to return to Morbium and take you with me.’ Her eyes were still burning with hate and outrage, but she kept glancing back to the shrine and she made no attempt to attack.
‘Morbium?’ Gotrek shook his head. ‘That’s it. That’s the one. Get us there quick, lass, and I might forgive you for trying to gut me.’
They staggered again as Trachos unleashed another wave of light, toppling more ghouls as his song reached a triumphant crescendo.
The young woman gripped her head, drumming her fingers on her skull. ‘Prince Volant was right to send me out here. The Shroud has been breached.’ She shook her head, glancing at the shrine. ‘I have to reach him.’
‘If he knows the way to Nagash, I’ll get you to him,’ said Gotrek. ‘Consider that an oath.’
She glared at Gotrek but seemed to be considering his offer. ‘If the mordants have breached the Shroud, I may need protection.’
Gotrek tapped his bloody axe. ‘If protection is what you need–’
‘Slayer!’ cried Trachos, rushing back and smashing his sceptre into the face of a ghoul. Its skull detonated, scattering flames and grey matter.
Maleneth dodged the gore then stopped the next one with a flurry of knife blows, and Gotrek dropped a third, crumpling its skull with his axe.
‘Follow me to the pulpit!’ cried the woman. She clambered quickly up the gnarled, twisted mass of stone, waving for them to follow.
They climbed backwards up the stones, still facing the ghouls, parrying their attacks.
Gotrek grinned as he fought, scattering heads and limbs as he hurried after the woman. Trachos used his sceptre like a hammer, swinging it with almost as much ferocity as Gotrek, and every blow triggered a flash of Azyrite sorcery that flashed over his armour, catching on the lightning bolts and stars that decorated the polished plate. His song had become a meaningless jumble of unconnected words. ‘Swift! Blessed! Heart! Strife!’