Hidden Hope
By Voodoomaster

The water lapped at the edge of the Eagle Ship as it slowly pulled into Tor Cynath, the crew busying themselves with the preparations to dock alongside. Hands were running up and down the rigging taking in sails and preparing the ship for its ceremonial duty. The captain gazed at the docks and the troop of soldiers that stood upon the docks. Nodding at a young Corsair the captain walked forward a hand idly resting upon his sword hilt at his side as the Eagle Ship scraped along the dockside.

“All is well, captain?”

The captain turned as the soft calm voice behind him spoke, and looked at the regal lady behind him, her hand idly caressing her stomach which was heavy with a child. Jesamine Cadsane, High Sorceress and former Dread Lady of the Elthin Arvan had returned to the place where she had led the forces of the Witch King south to crush the rebellion in the deep forests. The captain bowed as he replied.

“My lady, the dock guard awaits you.”

Smiling to herself, she nodded to her guard as they began to glide towards the ramp and to the awaiting guards upon the deck, and from there to the palace of Tor Cynath where the Council of the Slavers City was awaiting her, and the messages that she bore. Jesamine smiled to herself as she easily stepped of the gangplank, the guards already were terrified of her, the tattoo that covered part of her face, and the fact that her pearl white hair seemed to have a mind of its own. Yes, Jesamine thought to herself, the Council of Slavers will be interesting indeed.

******************

Lord Durza and Sirhael Malenti were furious at having been summoned here, by someone who no longer had any military or political power within Tor Cynath. The only reason why they had returned from the frontlines at all was because of what Jesamine carried with her, orders from Tor Anlec, and therefore from the court of the King himself. They both sat, in full regalia in twin chairs at the head of the council, flanking them out from either side were the other generals of the empire on the left, and the city elders on the right. All told, a total of twelve warlords and advisors all told, the final seat upon the council, again at the head was for the final Drachau of the colonies, who was even now leading the forces of the Witch King in the south. All the members of the council sat hands clasped and listening to Jesamine’s proclamation from Tor Anlec.

“In conclusion generals and nobles of Elthin Arvan, your orders are to continue to advance south from the coasts, do not cross the river Reik and to continue the slave raids on both the rebellious forces and upon the traitor kingdom of Sarthailor. Ensure that the cities are fortified from any attempt by the humans to enter and free the slaves. Signed, Queen Morathi of Ulthuan, and King Malekith.”

Jesamine smiled at her final statement and settled back into her chair in the centre of the room, she felt all of the eyes boring upon her, watching her every move, some even looking into he soul, but she blocked these attempts. Her anger flared slightly as Lord Durza spoke; she still had not forgiven him for the betrayal that cost her dearly. He stood up and spoke clearly, his voice showing no sign of emotion.

“Lady Cadsane, the words of King Malekith are indeed gracious to hear, and his orders shall be carried out immediately. The words of the Drachau are final in this matter, only another Drachau can reject the orders. Lord Malenti, do you agree with the orders?”

Lord Malenti stood up slowly and looked around the table, his eyes settling upon the only set of eyes who had not agreed, the hooded figure at the end of the table whose eyes had not lost sight of Jesamine since she had entered the room, it was he who had asked the cloaked old woman to enter the council chamber, and he wasn’t about to neglect advice.

“Lady Vraneth, you disagree with our Kings word?”

Jesamine’s head spun round rapidly at those words, and her heart skipped a beat, the former maniac general of the Witch king’s armies? Here? One of the most deadly foes to her mistress of all, the family of Vraneth, like so many other families was loyal to the King, and the King only. Numerous times had the Queen tried to command them, only to face rebuttal from the cold voices of nearly half the nobles in all of Ulthuan, especially in Nagarythe, Tiranoc and Saphery where the King’s word was most respected, and the Queen’s most insulted. Caledor too was highly insulting to the Queen at the moment, especially with the death of the Prince of the Realm under mysterious circumstances. Her eyes widened as the hood was removed from Lady Vraneth’s head, revealing her ancient face, her eyes now bloodshot and her teeth sharp, as the true crone she was. Her voice however was still as powerful as ever.

“Those orders were not written by the King, they were written by Queen Morathi. The King’s wisdom has not touched those orders, and has not done for over a year now, you all know of what I speak.”

Jesamine’s eyes locked with that of Idril Vraneth the ancients eyes seemed to radiate power as both seemed to read the other from the inside, rather than out. The gaze however was broken as Lord Malenti spoke up once again.

“What do you mean Lady Vraneth? Are you suggesting that the rumours are true?”

Idril Vraneth stood up, and placed her hands upon the table but her gaze did not shift from Jesamine.

“I am saying the rumours are true, I saw the King being carried upon a stretcher into the Citadel of Tor Anlec. His armour had been torn asunder and a heinous mark placed upon his helm. I have seen the Queen Mother cry out in a mix of joy and despair, the King is dead.”

Jesamine stood up sharply and glared at Idril Vraneth, her eyes ablaze with fury as she hissed out what many in the chamber were thinking.

“Heresy”

Idril Vraneth’s hand vanished under her cloak a moment before Lord Malenti bellowed out to cease the potential battle between the two women.

“Enough!”

Both women glared at him as he continued.

“Until the elections for a new king our held, Malekith is not dead. Is that clear?”

The final part of the question was addressed to the entire hall, and there was some mumbling of agreement, Lady Vraneth however stood up and swept out of the room her eyes ablaze with fury, Jesamine watched her go, with great doubt upon her mind.


****************


Jesamine settled down in her chair as she awaited her servants to bring her what she requested, her mind was troubled. Idril Vraneth knew far too much, she was a threat to the Queen’s plans. But she was a respected member of the council, the same council that had thrown her out. Bitter thoughts filled her mind but they were thrown from it as the servants entered once more, bearing a chest with various intricate locks upon it. Waving her hand she dismissed the servants who had carried the chest into her chambers.

“You may leave.”

Waiting until the last of the servants left she raised her hand, closed her eyes and felt the door close and lock at her will. Smiling to herself she moved over to the chest and caressed her hand across its intricate surface, and pulled a key from a chain around her neck, and slowly inserted it into the locks with each turn of the key her fear and anticipation growing with each lock, sighing to herself she drew out the object within.

A Blackwood staff, forged from a ruined tree deep in Averlorn and covered in great silver runes, and upon its head was crafted the Mark of Slaanesh. Taking the staff in her hand a shudder of excitement moved through Jesamine’s entire being as she stood up and held the staff just above the marble floor, closing her eyes she brought the staff to the floor and a flash filled the air, gasping Jesamine concentrated upon her destination and whispered the words she needed to.

“My Queen, I have need of your council”

A gently soothing feeling filled her ears as she felt her mistress’ presence glide gently into the back of her mind, her heart fluttering as her mistress spoke deep into her mind.

“What is it, Lady Cadsane?”

“My Queen, I have urgent news from the colonies. It appears that Idril Vraneth is here, and that she knows about the King.”

Jesamine cringed as her Mistress screamed into her mind,

“She must be silenced; if she continues to spread the truth then all will be lost, my rule is not cemented yet there are still voices to be eliminated, including that accursed Captain of the Black Guard who will not leave me be.”

“My Queen do you wish me to kill Lady Vraneth?”

“Yes Cadsane, kill her and any of her supporters within the city, Vraneth has always despised me, and because of that, she is dangerous to us.”

Smiling to herself Cadsane prepared to break the spell that connected her mind to her mistress.

“And what of Lasgalen?”

“It shall be burned to the ground, my dear. Now go.”

Opening her eyes and lifting the staff Jesamine fell backwards with a gasp, the staff still in her grasp and the tattoo that covered her face painfully throbbing as she recovered her strength. Slowly however she began to laugh, she knew what she had to do, and no force could stop her.


*********************

Idril Vraneth stormed up the stairs of her tower. Anger filled her entire being; she had been refused access to the council chambers once again. Why were the council so stubbornly stupid to admit the fact that the King was dead, and that Morathi was controlling them all for the benefit of her patron? Kicking open the door of her chambers, she strode in. Suddenly her frown deepened and her hand grasped the sword underneath her cloak.

There was someone else in the room with her. Side stepping to the left Idril felt the air ripple beside her as a massive bladed spear swung down to the place where she had been standing seconds before. The sword was drawn in an instant and Idril spun around and sliced the throat of another spear wielding foe in the corner of the room. As the foe gagged its last bit of breath Idril turned to the open balcony and looked around at the entire room.
Aside from the foe whom she had cut his throat, who lay gagging on the floor, there were four others in the room with her, three Elves with spears, and another. A blond haired Human clad in dark armour with the Mark of Slaanesh hanging around her neck. The spear in her hands pulsated slowly with black purple runes upon the dark steel blade. Licking her lips the ancient commander of Malekith’s armies looked at the foes within the room.

“So, it seems the harlot has finally gotten reason to get rid of me. Are you there, Cadsane?”

Smirking to herself, Idril glanced over her shoulder at the stunned looking sorceress and her tethered albino Pegasus upon the balcony. Turning around Idril looked the sorceress in the eyes her blade held loosely by her side, smiling her teeth drawn back in her skull, Idril addressed the stunned Sorceress.

“So what is the charge, Cadsane? Treason? Or is it rather a case of being loyal to the King?”

“You know the charge is treason Vraneth, you have betrayed your Queen, and have been sentenced to death. You and all your family and allies.”

Idril smiled, aware of the Human behind moving towards her, and walked a step towards the sorceress upon the balcony her sword coming up to point at Cadsane before her. Her voice filled with malice, hatred and spite.

“She is not the Queen, and if she wishes to kill myself, and my allies, then more than half of the Empire must be wiped out, like you.”

Idril darted forward, her blade swiping through the air towards the stunned sorceress who snarled, a dark light filling her eyes as she seemed to dissolve into the air only to reappear around three feet to the right standing next to her albino mount, and grasping the reigns she hissed.

“Kill her!”

Idril spun around to deflect the blow from the Human and then spinning her sword to deflect another blow from the Elf that had advanced on the right. Spinning the blade back around Idril deflected another blow from the second Elf who tried to land a blow. Diving to the left as the third Elf’s spear and the Human’s spear smashed into the ground where she had previously been standing. Ducking under another blow she brought her blade up and watched in grim satisfaction as the blade dug deep into the stomach of the third Elf, blood dripping down the blade onto her hands withdrawing the blade she stepped around the falling corpse and looked up at the sky and laughed, her voice like thunder to the ears of the three remaining warriors against her.


Jesamine looked with horror at the blood covered ancient below her, as her albino mount circled the tower once again, for the first time she felt doubt. Here was an Elf who should be dead, but would not lie down and die. Hissing she held up her hand, manipulating the winds that blew around her. Hair rippling like snakes Jesamine felt the spell take form around her fingers smiling she hurled the purple ball of flames straight at the Vraneth. Cackling she watched as Vraneth looked up at her, and brought her sword up at the incoming fireball and swung her sword at the last minute directly at the spell, deflecting it into the chamber that exploded into flames, throwing Vraneth into sharp light as she spun around and embedded her smoking sword into the shoulder of another charging spear Elf.

Jesamine’s cackling died on her lips as she saw this display of defiance, the flames now burning even the stones of the tower, as Vraneth continued to battle the final Elf and her human champion.

“How is this possible?”

Idril screamed out in joy as the final Elf fell to her blade, his head lobbed clean off his shoulders, now only the tall Human remained, her spear blade rippling in the blazing eldritch fire behind her. This Human was obviously a powerful champion of the Ruinous Powers. Yet more prey for her. Lunging forward Idril brought her blade up aiming for the neck, yet as the Human moved the spear to block the move, Idril twisted her arm and spun under her foes guard, cutting deeply into the dark armour but not enough to draw blood. The raze sharp edge of the blade sang out as it carved through the armour, and Idril spun around to parry from the spear as it returned the blow. The ancient spun away from the combat for a moment and circled her opponent, watching carefully.

“So Human, what brought you here?”

The Human smiled, and spun her spear in her hands, a feral grin planted upon her features as she replied in the crude tongue that the southerners that dwelled in Elthin Arvan used.

“My master ordered me here, Vraneth; he would like his companion’s sword returned, and your head.”

“So sorry to disappoint.”

Lunging forward once more Idril knocked the spear aside to plunge her sword deep into the right hand pauldron upon her armour, a sigh of pleasure escaping from the Human followed by a scream of pain as the medallion around Idril’s neck burned brightly, the Human’s own medallion burning too as she spun back and kicked the Elf, the brute force sending Vraneth sprawling through the doorway and into the burning room, a scream emerging from it. The Human smiled and turned her back upon the doorway and grasped the rope that she had used to get up to the tower, ignoring the explosion behind her as the entire tower finally fully burst into flames.

A scream split the air causing the Human to turn. She stared in amazement as the burning figure of Idril Vraneth slammed into her. A sword flashing and cutting through part of her hair, losing her balance. She screamed as both she and Vraneth plunged from the tower into the darkness below.


****************

Jesamine Cadsane directed her albino mount downwards towards the two prone figures that she could see in the murk at the foot of the tower. Her champion and her enemy had fallen from the tower, and she knew both had to be dead. There was no way any mortal could survive such a fall, it was well over one thousand feet. The pegasi’s head reared up as it touched down its hoofs onto the cobbled street, trotting the final distance to the place where the two figures were, one lay broken upon the floor, the other was kneeling spitting blood onto the floor.

“You’re alive Imenja? How, no one should have survived that fall!”

The human champion looked up, her lips bloody and her face soot stained, but she was defiant: her spear lay embedded in the ground beside Vraneth’s head, and standing up she clicked her neck and clutched at her ribs, blood already seeming to slow its flow from the wound on her shoulder.

“Slaanesh has plans for me yet, my lady.”

Taking a grip upon her spear Imenja yanked it out of the ground and kicked Vraneth’s body over.

It was not a pretty sight, the entire body was burnt black, her sword lay shattered beside her and the medallion around her neck, the rune of Khaine upon it, still burned brightly as if in defiance, snarling Imenja spun her spear around and plunged it into the ancient’s shattered chest, destroying the medallion in the process. Lifting the sword hilt, she handed it to Cadsane.

“Here’s evidence for Morathi, Vraneth is dead.”

“Yes indeed, her greatest enemy is dead.”

Laughter filled the narrow street as both Jesamine and Imenja laughed, while below them the ruined body of Idril Vraneth, former General of the Witch king’s armies gently smoked, as the remnants of the fire burnt itself out. The old order was dead, a new power was rising.

*******************

High in the middle mountains, a tall figure stood looking to the south; below him the men of the Reik continued their assault on the mighty fortress of the Men under the sway of the Druchii, the Fauschlag Citadel. Sighing the Elf turned back to the hooded aid beside him, who held a mighty double handed sword: its blade smooth upon one side, and curved upon the other. It was the mighty blade of his family, and now it was his. He was the only one left, the others killed at the orders of the one he hated above all others. Taking the sword he looked down upon the siege going on below him, sighing he looked at his aid, tears in his eyes, as he spoke what many of his kin now felt, it was words that would go along way, and shake the very resolve of all who lived in the Empire of Elves.

“There is a cancer in the elves, a rotten heart that needs to be destroyed. We do not engage the enemy that killed our King, instead we attack people who have done nothing to us. These people deserve our pity, not our vengeance. Our vengeance should be targeted at the one thing that has prevented us from bringing Khaine’s vengeance upon the killer of the King. Morathi, she must pay for what she has done to us.”

Drukh Vraneth, son of Idril Vraneth held his grandfather’s sword high, as the wind whistled around him revealing the armour that his grandfather had worn long ago, he was Vraneth re-born. Turning at the aid, he looked him in the eyes.

“Are you with me, old friend?”

The aid removed his hood, the talisman of Asuryan hung around his neck, glinting slightly in the weak sun, an indication that although outcast, followers of the Old Ways were still strong in the armies of Elthin Arvan. A fire burned in his eyes, a determination that would shake any to the core, as he drew his own sword, and held it aloft.

“We are with you, old friend.”