The Devotees In Mordheim - Chronicles of The Enslaver

Part three...

*

Months had passed in the icy wilderness of the north. Argider’s tribe had grown somewhat in that time. They’d made an existence raiding rival tribes as they travelled south. They took slaves, food, livestock and anything they found of worth ready to trade these with the next tribe they came across. The name of Argider quickly spread amongst the tribes and whilst it made them more wary of his raids it attracted outcasts and younger tribesmen eager for glory and their numbers swelled. At the core of his now much larger tribe Argider still had his shaman Ximun and his lieutenants Ekaitz and Imanol, two veteran warriors who helped keep the younger tribesmen in their place.
Eventually the cold of the north began to give way and Argider knew that they drew near to the southmen’s Empire. Argider’s dreams led him to the city each nightfall. He knew now instinctively the path he needed to take.
Further months passed. The last portion of their journey had, had to be cautiously slow. They encountered a few patrols but these were quickly dealt with. The surprise of seeing a warband of northmen appear of nowhere, this deep into the Empire gave Argider’s men all the edge they needed.
Within time the towers of half-ruined city walls became visible and Argider knew they’d soon reach their destination. He summoned Ekaitz and Imanol to him once they’d made camp and Ximun attended too.
“We’ll go ahead of the other,” Argider explained. “They can follow behind once we know how the city is defended.”
“Do we know anything about this city?” Imanol asked.
“Only what Elazar has shared with out lord,” Ximun answered curtly. “The city is Mordheim, and Elazar seeks something here beside the city itself.”
“Fine,” Imanol accepted the shaman’s answer, there was clearly no point in further questioning. “I’ll get a hunting party ready to accompany us in.”
Imanol went back to the main camp, barking orders as he went.
“We’ll go at first light,” Argider said and dismissed them with a wave of his hand.

*

There were more dreams that night as Argider had expected there would be. He saw the ruined city, he saw bloodshed and madness and then Elazar spoke to him. He hadn’t heard the Daemon Prince since that first dream.
“Argider The Enslaver,” it whispered, an apparent joy at the title with which it has suffixed Argider’s name.
“Master?” Discourse with the daemon unsettled Argider’s mind on so many levels and his tone failed in hiding this fact.
“You have done well to come this far Argider but this all been a prelude,” the daemon whispered to him, its piercing eyes staring from the darkness in his mind. “Others have come to the city. It is a joyous, endless cycle! The city draws in the proud and the greedy, ensnaring them with beautiful, dark promises of wealth and power. Some might pretend their goals are nobler.”
“What others?”
“You’ll see soon enough, my Argider,” was the daemon’s only answer. “You must not allow them to take this city. Use them or destroy them as necessary. They are all weak and do not recognise this place for what it truly is.”
“And what is that?
“You’ll see soon enough, my Argider.”

*