Chapter 6 - A Test of Faith

Standing in between Tagada and Lord Festerfane was a large helmed figure with a cream coloured cloak swirling behind it, a turqoise helm, and a staff of office with a lantern on top. The gleam of sigmarite marked it unmistakingly as a stormcast eternal.

His breath caught in his throat. Tagada had been around stormcast occasionally in Azyr, and so recognized both the host and office. It was a Lord Veritant of the Celestial Vindicators. The figure was facing Feterene.

When the figure spoke, its voice was clearly feminine though there was an echo of thunder behind each word spoken.

“In the name of Sigmar and all that is holy, who has summoned me?” she asked. “And why?”

Lord Festerene was the first to recover. “Your eminence, there is a follower of the dark gods behind you.” His face was serious, but his eyes glinted.

Anna stepped out from behind him, her sword sheathed. And nodded her head.

There was a pause. When it spoke, the voice from behind the mask had a light echo of thunder. “A worshiper of the dark gods?”

“Yes, your eminence.”

Another pause. Her helm moved around as she seemed to sniff at the air. “I smell corruption. Where is this filth?”

Lord Festerene pointed towards Tagada.

Tagada pulled himself to his feet as the stormcast swirled around, her free hand on her sword’s hilt. He immediately went to one knee and grabbed the comet.

“Pilgrim,” she said.

“Lord Veritant.”

“Are you the chaos worshipper?”

“No Lord Veritant.”

“Tell me what is going on.”

“I …” Tagada began.

“Do not listen to his lies!” Anna shouted.

The stormcast wheeled around. “SILENCE!” Her voice was like the boom of thunder. Anna cowered behind her uncle and everyone else flinched back.

“Pilgrim, what is going on?”

“Lord Veritant,” he said. “I appealed to Sigmar with the blood of the faithful upon the comet. These people claim to be pious,” Tagada gestured at the twin tailed comet hung on the wall, “but then they use foul runes like the ones on the floor beneath you.” Which he indicated with a flourish. He saw her helmed head turn to regard the floor. The stormcast gave no indication of a reaction.

The stormcast looked around, seeming to scrutinize every person. The hall was silent except for the sound of laboured breathing, and a whimpering coming from the far corner as a serving boy with wet pants slowly inched on the floor towards the door.

“Lord Veritant,” Tagada said, his voice cutting through the silence. The entire room turned to face him.

“You should check her sword,” Tagada said, indicating Anna.

The Lord Veritant turned to face Anna and her uncle. “Show me.”

“Your eminence,” Anna began.

“Show me!”

Lord Feterene nodded at Anna and she began to unbuckle the sword scabbard from her belt. Feterene addressed the stormcast as she did so. “It was given to us by Sigmar’s stormcast eternals! Stormcast from the Hallowed Knights!”

Anna held out the blade in its scabbard. The Lord Veritant made an ‘unsheath it’ motion with her hand.

The runes on the sword glowed as it was taken from its scabbard. The temperature in the room seemed to drop.

A deep growl began from behind the stormcast’s mask. Lord Feterene and Anna took a step back. After a moment the growl tapered off and the stormcast addressed the room. “We have different people saying different things. Not everyone can be correct. This is not an unusual situation for a Lord Veritant. It was by Sigmar’s grace that I was the one to come, as our purpose is to find the truth and root out corruption wherever it may be found.”

She held her staff of office high. “And by the light of Sigmar, let the truth be told.”

The stormcast slammed the staff down on the floor and the door on the lantern opened at its top. The entire room was bathed in the light emanating from it.

Tagada shut his eyes against the brilliance. The light felt … rejuvinating. The scar on his arm started to heal. He felt as if he’d just slept for 10 hours and was ready to walk the entire Ember Road again. Even the ever present pain on his feet started to disappear.

But some screams cut through his bliss. Not everyone was having the same experience. He opened his eyes.

Anna was cradling her hands. She had dropped the sword, which was glowing red hot on the ground. Lord Feterene was grabbing his face and screaming. All of those that belonged to the manor were in some form of distress.

THe stormcast rapped the staff on the ground again and the lantern shut.

“The light of Sigmar has spoken. All that is left now is to deliver justice.” She drew her sword, stepped forward and, with one single clean stroke, bisected Lady Anna from collar to crotch. The two halves fell as blood sprayed into the air.

Lord Feterene howled wordlessly and launched himself at the stormcast. She backhanded him and sent him flying. As big as he was, the way she sent him flying made him seem like nothing more than a child. He slammed into a brazier at the edge of the chamber. It toppled and some of the tapestries on the wall started to smoke.

As if the assault to their lord was the signal they were waiting for, everyone else jumped into motion, drawing weapons and charging the stormcast.

Tagada stood momentarily rooted before picking up a chair and swinging it with all his might into one of the warriors. The warrior’s head snapped to the side, his neck hanging at an unnatural angle. Tagada grabbed the warrior’s sword as his body started to crumple before launching himself into the melee.

The Lord Veritant was masterful. Using big sweeping swings of her staff to keep most of her attackers at bay before lashing out with her sword to kill or maim another of her attackers.

Tagada ran a woman through the gut as she rushed the stormcast and then with a backhand swing managed to get most of the way through another man’s neck before his sword was stopped at the spine. The body fell and the sword was nearly yanked out of his hands before he managed to tear it free.

By this point, some of the others had noticed that the stormcast was not the only threat and two of them rushed Tagada.

He parried a strike from the first and then sidestepped the second before dropping the second attacker with a swift strike of his sword’s pommel to the man’s temple.

The first attacker was on him again. Tagada jumped backwards as the swipe narrowly missed his clavicle. Then he launched into the attack.

He stabbed forward. The man narrowly diverted Tagada’s blade.

Tagada stepped to the side and began a swing from the outside and the man reacted, shifting his guard. But it was a feint and Tagada drew in and then stabbed forward. His sword pierced the man in the gut and then shuddered to a stop as it hit the man’s spine.

The man screamed and then dropped, his legs no longer working.

Smoke was filling the room. The tapestries were all burning and the roof was on fire too. This room was going to become a deathtrap in minutes.

The stormcast was different too. Gone was her finesse, replaced with savage fury. Every blow from her sword or staff found its mark, but she’d stopped keeping people at a distance, letting her armour soak up the blows that came in.

A burly man with a giant club rushed in and swung it, slamming into the stormcast’s head. Her head snapped back and her helm came flying off. She gave a primal scream and then neatly separated his head from his shoulders with a downward strike.

She turned and attacked the last standing enemies.

His eyes stinging with smoke, Tagada finally got his first look of the stormcast’s face.

There was blood running down her nose, and her face was contorted into a mask of fury. And it was a little different than the last time he’d seen it. The features were all just a little more perfect, as if it had been sculpted by a master sculptor. But there was no mistaking the face. He’d seen it for most of his life.

Tagada’s heart skipped a beat.

“Mother?”