At the Reik's Throat
By VictorK

The dark clouds that hung over the fields west of Reikdorf became alive as splashes of crimson and gold reflected off of them and told the men who defended their capitol that the one person who they feared more than any other had arrived. Alith Anar, the Everchosen of Chaos, stood at the forefront of his army and did not allow a single Reikman to approach him. The greater daemon U’zuhl flashed from the end of his blade, an ethereal monster that was nonetheless full of deadly teeth and claws. Entire regiments disappeared in front of the Everchosen as he walked forward; swinging his blade and guiding the rampant daemon to feast upon the mortals who dared to confront him. Banners were torn down from their poles and men were rent to pieces so that when Alith Anar walked upon the same ground they had the grass gushed with the blood of men. All that stood between the Everchosen and the reconquest of the greatest city men had built along the River Reik was a thin ribbon of mortals.

Alith Anar flicked his wrist and drew the demon back into its prison. U’zuhl roared with protest but was soon sealed inside the Everchosen’s steel. Alith Anar stopped and eyed the men who now huddled around him who were waiting for the man next to them to make a move before they committed themselves. In the relative darkness of the day his features were unreadable, only the amber glow from the Eye of Sheerian seemed to indicate that he was alive. It seemed that he was alone; the supernatural daemon’s howls that haunted the battlefield seemed to be silenced around him, as if he commanded his own zone of personal peace. The men hesitated for a moment, but even the figure of Alith Anar was not enough to prevent them from seeking to defend the jewel of their home. As one, as if every man had summoned his courage at the same time, they surged forward. The Men of the Reik issued their war cries and lowered their weapons, as if hoping that momentum and spirit alone would slay the Everchosen.

Alith Anar watched them charge and held his ground. Hidden from the eyes of the men his mouth moved. “Kill their hope.” Materializing from the blackness that surrounded the Everchosen elven Shadow Warriors formed up around their master, their bowstrings drawn taut. They loosed their arrows at the oncoming men, slaying them by the dozens. Alith Anar stepped forward and his blade flashed, removing the throat from the nearest man. Blood flew from the wound, but none of it seemed to touch the Everchosen and what was left on his blade quickly burned away. The Shadow Warriors slung their bows and drew their swords, stepping forward with Alith Anar to dismantle the latest regiment to stand against them. The men that could, fled. Those who could not, died.

The stockades of Reikdorf, hastily erected to patch the holes in the capitol’s once mighty walls, came into view as the regiment fell away. A forest of banners belonging to Men and Dawi stood between Alith Anar and his prize. They were marching towards him, but he knew there was no enthusiasm in those steps, just a reluctance to face the inevitable. “Characteristic of the stubborn races.” The Everchosen remarked to one of his Shadow Warriors. “They fight for everything and die for nothing.” Chaos brought the fight to Men, legions of armored warriors surging forward to overwhelm the last defenders of Reikdorf. Alith Anar went through the motions of cutting them down, keeping his daemon caged for the time being. He realized, as he cut through a man who attempted to flee from him, that he found no joy in killing him. He found about as much joy in this as he did from walking or breathing. A horn sounded, a baleful song that reminded Alith Anar of a funeral dirge. The Everchosen looked up from his work. Shadow Warriors swarmed around him and pushed back the warriors of the Reik so that Alith Anar could contemplate the song in peace. He spied a new banner rapidly approaching, a simple standard done in black and grey with a raven ringed in red emblazoned on it. “The heart of their army approaches.” Alith Anar murmured before he started forward again.

The Everchosen perceived Mathi Alfblut breaking through a line of men to charge him before he even appeared. A ghostly image of the Reik’s warmaster was screaming silently at Alith Anar, the head of his great axe poised to remove the Everchosen’s head with a single swing. When a break in the line of Reikmen did appear and Mathi moved to fill it Alith Anar simply stepped back, avoiding the blow he had been expecting since before Mathi even laid eyes on him. The Everchosen saw the man’s eyes widen as they fell on him, causing the elf to smile with satisfaction. This man had not been expecting to fight him. Alith Anar briefly wondered if he would run, but as soon as Mathi’s face returned to the mask of rage and determination that characterized his long career the elf abandoned that hope. Mathi struck again, swinging his axe just inches from Alith Anar’s face. The Everchosen continued to backpedal, frustrating the Reikman’s attacks.

“They call you Mathi Alfblut.” Alith Anar taunted as another strike just barely missed him. “Elf blood. You wield a favored axe; the men we have captured call it the Elvenslayer. Will you draw my blood, human? Of all the elves your axe must desire mine more than any other.” The Everchosen laughed and finally brought his blade into the battle, barely catching the head of the axe and stopping a fatal blow in its tracks. “I’m afraid your axe will go thirsty.” Alith Anar pushed forward, causing Mathi to stumble backwards from the strength of the seemingly effortless shrug of the elf’s shoulders. He looked up, his grip tightening around his axe a he prepared for the dark figure to strike. Alith Anar’s blade darted forward and pierced Mathi’s shoulder. The Reikman did not even cry out in pain, the wounds he had suffered in the long war had made that sensation too familiar to warrant a cry. Instead he channeled his pain into a warcry as he swung his axe at Alith Anar’s head. Again the Everchosen’s blade caught the axe head and turned it aside. Mathi was not a man who would waste even the slightest bit of momentum and so he turned the Everchosen’s block against him, letting the weight of the axe head fall towards Alith Anar’s knees.

The Everchosen stepped back to avoid the blow, but Mathi smiled as he heard the sharp ring that betrayed the head of his axe glancing off Alith Anar’s armor. “Is that really worth celebration?” The Everchosen wondered aloud. “Really? Am I so terrifying that you would die with a smile on your face only having nicked my armor? Is that how far you’ve fallen? Or is this how far you’ve come?” Alith Anar lashed out at Mathi, drawing a deep scar down his side. He quickly turned his wrist and converted the strike, sending the point of his blade deep into Mathi’s leg. This was enough to cause the Reikman to cry out in pain, but it was not enough to make him back down. He swung the butt of his axe at the exposed Alith Anar, but once again the Everchosen stole away what should have been a certain hit. In return Alith Anar sapped Mathi, bringing the pommel of his sword down on the man’s head. Stunned and vulnerable Mathi’s eyes flashed before Alith Anar kicked him back.

Mathi Alfblut sprawled onto the ground, his head throbbing. His bodyguard was engaged in fighting the Everchosen’s Shadow Warriors so no man came to help him to his feet. He pushed himself up, careful to favor his wounded leg. “You should pray to me.” Alith Anar told Mathi as he returned to his feet. “Surely in the last minute I have saved your life more than any god you worship. What is the point of gods if they don’t provide results?” Mathi howled at the insult, swinging his big axe as quickly as he could and as many times as his arms could bear it. He trusted in the gods to provide him with one hit, the hit that might save the Reik if he could cut this monster down. No one answered his call. His attack came to an abrupt end as Alith Anar hooked his sword under the axe’s beard, catching it between shaft and blade. The Everchosen swung his sword over his head, removing the axe from Mathi’s hands and sending it sailing into the air. As the two blades crossed each other they sang.

Mathi stepped back now that he was disarmed. “Run away, human.” Alith Anar told him as he advanced. “Stand down. The city is mine. The Reik is mine. The world is mine. Take your army and run, and perhaps it will be spared, if you have the proper attitude. It is within your power to do this. Back down, and perhaps this kingdom you have carved out of the wilderness might yet endure.” Mathi only stared back, the look of determination on his weathered face never wavering. The Everchosen frowned. Something told him that this picture wasn’t right, Mathi’s face was all wrong for a beaten man. “No, you’ve never backed down from anything in your life…”

The Eye of Sheerian did not give the Everchosen even a second of warning. It was Alith Anar’s elven reflexes and not the gifts of the Chaos gods that saved his life. He caught the golden hammer that had appeared from nowhere into Mathi’s hand just before it crushed his skull. The Everchosen’s armored hand was wrapped around its haft, and it ached from having to stop its weight. He eyed the hammer for a moment, tracing the dwarven runes with his eyes before turning back to Mathi. He was still defiant, but Alith Anar no recognized the face of a man who had exhausted his last option. Still, the Everchosen’s stomach was twisted in a knot. He replayed the battle in his mind and realized the hammer had been on Mathi’s back the entire time, but how had he missed it? Alith Anar snarled, trying to dispel the feeling as his grip tightened on the hammer. The rune began to glow red along it surface, reacting to the Everchosen’s power. Mathi flinched but tried to hide it. He held on for a few more moments before crying out in pain as the runes burned his hand. He was forced to let go, surrendering the hammer to the Everchosen of Chaos. Alith Anar laughed as Mathi held his hand and stepped back. “You thought this trinket would save you?” His confidence was returning. “A weapon so worthless that the Dawi would give it to a man?” He laughed again and casually tossed the hammer over Mathi’s head.

Mathi didn’t have time to formulate a new plan before Alith Anar ran him through with his sword. The Rinkr’s eyes widened with surprise before pain numbed him. “If you will not run, you will die.” Mathi felt the ground disappear as he was lifted off his feet. The sword burned in his gut, be he felt cold. He started to work his lips into prayer before Alith Anar raised his left hand up so that Mathi could see it. The Mark of Chaos smoldered on the surface of his armor, burning itself into Mathi’s vision. “Your gods have forsaken you. The last moments of your life will be spent without the comfort of faith.” Mathi could not close his eyes. He wanted to tear his vision away from the symbol of evil that was working its way into his mind but it would not let him. He tried to focus on the faces of his gods, to remind himself of their strength and the ultimate justice in his mission but everywhere he turned he saw the destruction that this symbol would bring to his lands. Instead of justice he found futility, instead of hope despair. The Rinkr started to shake, twisting painfully on the sword as he tried to find some refuge from the awful vision he was being privileged with. Tears welled up in his eyes as he offered one last silent apology to his gods and his people. As soon as the first tears fell his eyes dried and Mathi Alfblut ceased to exist. The body that had held his soul began to scream. It screamed so loud that it seemed every man on the field could hear it and perceive the depth of despair that had driven a man to issue that terrible cry. He screamed and screamed until his throat was raw. For the few moments that the scream lasted it seemed that not even death could silence it.
A war cry, full of rage and the sorrow that had given rise to it broke through Mathi’s screaming. Alith Anar turned away from Mathi just in time to see something golden flash by the Rinkr’s body before it smashed into his marked arm. Pain shot through the Everchosen and the force of the blow made him stumble to the side. He dropped his sword arm and Mathi slid off of his blade to the group where at last he was silent. Alith Anar had barely regained his footing before something smashed into the shoulder of his sword arm. The same pain shot through him and he stumbled back. The wailing war cry of his opponent was constant in his mind and combined with panic it was impossible to focus. He continued to stumble as he was hit yet again, the heavy weight of the strike coming down on his chest. The Everchosen’s knees buckled and he fell back. He threw out his left arm to catch him but as soon as he needed it to hold up his weight the pain from the earlier blow shot through him and he collapsed onto his back. Alith Anar perceived that the next blow was coming to his skull. He turned onto his side and raised his sword, fighting the ache in his shoulder. He hoped that his aim was true “U’zuhl!”

The demon flew out of Alith Anar’s blade and caught his assailant in its talons. Daemon and warrior both were thrown back from the prone Everchosen. They battled while Alith Anar collected his thoughts, regaining his focus so that he could dispel the pain in his damaged body. Slowly the Everchosen returned to his feet. He exhaled once, finding peace in the midst of his demon’s unearthly screeching and he warrior’s determined cries. The pain disappeared and his confidence returned. Alith Anar turned his attention to the battle between his daemon and the warrior who had struck him. He caught U’zuhl’s final wail as the golden hammer that Mathi had been wielding was brought down on its ethereal skull. Subdued, the daemon slinked back towards its prison and disappeared. The Everchosen eyed the warrior with contempt.

U’zuhl had done its damage to the young man. His armor and clothes were torn away, leaving his chest bare and bleeding from the daemon’s talons. His dirty blonde hair had come undone and clumps of it were missing while the tips were dyed red with blood. The warrior breathed heavily, but it was clear that he was rapidly regaining his breath. Despite his wounds his grip on the hammer was strong. The weapon seemed to fit him naturally, as if the two belonged together. His piercing blue eyes were directed straight at Alith Anar, and there was not an ounce of fear in them. They were as confident as Alith Anar imagined that his were; a confidence that had not been present in Mathi’s worn face. But the Everchosen was not going to allow a young man to get away with a few luck shots. He stepped forward.

The warrior hefted his hammer, prepared to meet Alith Anar. As soon as the hammer came up Alith Anar stopped. He hadn’t foreseen the move. The Everchosen paused, and realized that he hadn’t foreseen the warrior’s original attack either. Had he been too distracted? No, that was impossible. The Eye would have seen it. The warrior adjusted his stance, still waiting for Alith Anar. The Everchosen had not foreseen that move either. He looked up and surveyed the battlefield. All around, on both sides he could see ghostly armies fighting just one step aside of the real forces they represented. He knew who would live and who would die before the fatal blow was struck, and whose courage would fail before fear even gripped their heart. There had not been an ounce of uncertainty in Alith Anar’s life since he emerged from Chaos’ Shrine as their Everchosen, but as soon as he turned his gaze on the warrior who now waited for him to strike he wasn’t certain of anything.

Alith Anar straightened. He didn’t understand why this man was able to blind the Eye of Sheerian. As the battle paused the Men of the Reik began to push forward, the Everchosen’s hesitation spreading to his Shadow Warriors. Men turned their eyes on the bloody warrior who opposed their most terrible enemy and seemed to find renewed consciousness. Alith Anar’s army was losing the battle, the Men of the Reik were holding. At the center of the battle the two warriors stood off from one another. After several long moments of consideration Alith Anar turned his back on the warrior and began to walk away. The warrior straightened then, but he did not pursue. All across the field the armies of Chaos fell back, though they did not have far to go to safety. The land around the city still belonged to them, an empire that the Everchosen had carved out of the Olde World. As he walked away Alith Anar heard a single cry forming at his back.

“UNBEROGEN!”