The Conclave of Twilight ~ By VictorK

It was winter in Nagarythe and despite the clothing that adorned him the Shadow King’s body was so cold that if felt numb. But there was a smile on his face. The air was clear and the weak sun shone gently on the snow covered pines. The storm had passed and left the world more beautiful than it found it. As he crested a low rise the Shadow King could see for miles as the valley opened up beneath him, the snow covered road that spread out below his steed leading back to the spires of his home. A light smile graced his lips, and then he started down with a gentle kick. He cut a new path on the snow covered road, the hoof prints left by his passing the only mark in the fresh powder. Though the journey across the valley to his home must have taken many hours shadows had not yet begun to advance across the lands.

The gates were open as a sign of friendship to all who passed through this court. A pair of elves bearing spears, each draped with the dark livery of his house, stood watch over the gate and inclined their head as their lord passed between them. The doors to the main hall were flung open as he entered the courtyard, and down its steps elves of all ages rushed out to meet their lord. The eldest waited on the steps while the children rushed to take the reigns of his horse while looking up at him. The Shadow King’s smile grew larger as it was set in a face that was not yet hardened against such expressions. He still felt numb, but a warmth within him allowed him to dismount his horse with practiced ease. He then started forward on his own power, towards the steps and the familiar faces who waited for and admired him.

A harsh bump in the unpaved roads of the northern Old World jarred Alith Anar from his sleep, or what passed for it now that his mind was filled with the chatter of a thousand possible worlds. The Everchosen sat up in his carriage, his eyes darting around the open space before focusing on the back of the elf who guided the team of horses. There was a storm brewing between the tall pines. Flecks of white cast about on capricious currents drifted past the Everchosen’s face in increasing thickness. The open top of the carriage did not provide much protection from the elements, but the numbness in his dream persisted in the real world. He was in no danger. Absently his fingers groped beneath him to find the coarse fur of the familiar wolf. The armored tips of Alith Anar’s fingers worked between his ears, rousing him from whatever dreams he enjoyed.

“You should be more careful when you dream, Alith Anar.” The wolf commented before spreading its jaws wide in a yawn. “You never know else might be looking in.”

“There is nothing that you could possibly learn about me.” Alith Anar replied, his gaze off in the distance, in the space between the pines. Every few moments he could catch a glimpse of a shadow warrior moving to keep pace with the caravan. “At least, nothing that would grant you any advantage.”

The wolf craned his neck and eventually stood, shaking the snow out of its fur. “Patience is my greatest advantage, old friend.” It replied before walking forward and then sitting on its haunches. “I have it in greater supply than any being alive, and that includes you. But, it’s not me that you should worry about.”

Alith Anar nodded, his attention latching on the wolf’s and his eyes finding the same point in the distance. “I know.” He replied.

“Your position is tenuous now that you have failed to kill.” The wolf licked its lips. “It has been an age since you were crowned and still I am forced to provide the basics. It is not enough that an Everchosen win every battle, which you have done, it is not enough that he command the loyalty of a vast host, which you have also accomplished…An Everchosen must first and foremost be able to defeat any challenger. You were beaten, Alith Anar.”

“I was hit once or twice, and then chose to leave.” The Everchosen replied with a shrug. “Let the humans have their slice of this forsaken soil. Our victory is complete without taking every mud hut or petty bunch of sticks that these humans call a fortress. We have shattered Karaz Ankor and Morathi’s minions finished off the Sarthailorim for me. One human prince with a destiny cannot reverse the tide of Chaos.”

“Perhaps not.” The wolf allowed. “But remember what I told you when you had just arrived. There is no such thing as a chosen. The gods may have granted you gifts, Alith Anar, but they are by no means invested in you personally. They care only about the results that you can give them, and they are never interested in peace or stability. No hierarchy survives in the service of the gods.”

The Everchosen stood and walked to his companion, placing his hand on the wolf’s head. “Then we must continue to deliver results.” He mused. The caravan crested a ridge, and the forest abruptly died. The ruins of Praag, a sea of twisted, scorched rock and rotted wood dotted with the campfires of the assembled Chaos host was laid out below him.

***

“Your lord is late, Iaketh. Perhaps he has decided that he would rather reminisce with his elven kin than give us the honor of his illustrious presence.” Kaas’ words were met with murmurs throughout the hall deep within the ruins of Praag. The chamber, carved from the enchanted ice that supported the old city, was filled with the most favored lords of Chaos. Generals had returned from battlefields all across the Olde World at the behest of their Everchosen, who so far had failed to appear. Every elf, man, beast and daemonkin was standing. The only chair in the room stood empty in anticipation of Alith Anar’s arrival.

“Bite your tongue, serpent.” Iaketh, the Everchosen’s herald seethed. “Alith Anar has summoned you from the vast corners of Chaos’ reach and as you have come you will wait until he deigns to appear.” This proclamation was met with even more murmurs from the assembled lords, a disturbance that was brought to a head when a great beast with the Mark of Khorne on its brow stepped forward and slammed the tip of its great axe into the floor.

“Let him appear!” The beast bellowed. “He shall taste my axe when he does! This is what happens when we allow an elf to take up the mantle of the Lord Khorne, he backs away from battle. He must account to us for his failure!”

“If you believe you can collect Alith Anar’s skull for your mindless lord you are mistaken.” A member of the coven of Mordkessel spoke from the shadows, quelling the return to disorder that had followed the beast’s speech. “None of you can perceive the greater machinations in play. Alith Anar will guide us or he will fall, but it will not be any of you who brings him down.”

“Bold talk for a group who allowed the humans to root them out of a city that bore their name!” Laughter rang through the ice hall as the anonymous lord called out the coven. Energy crackled through the chamber as the sorcerers drew power from the icy halls.

“Perhaps we should begin our campaign to retake New Mordkessel in this very room?” The spokesman for the coven intoned, a blue aura forming around the trio. The room fell silent save for the whisper of dozens of hands going for their weapons and words of power forming up on the lips of powerful sorcerers. The silence endured as the various lords sized one another up, preparing for the moment when one among their number would break the stand off and begin the battle that would tear the horde apart.

“By the authority of the gods I decide where this host is brought to bear!” Alith Anar’s voice rang clear through the hall, cutting through the tension with practiced ease. He descended from the city above with the wolf at his feet and a train of elves behind him. As soon as the Everchosen was in view the assembled lords shrank back, all eyes drawn to the delicate circlet on his brow. “I see that it is too much to expect that in a time of war my lords will refrain from tearing one another apart.” He remarked sourly, his gaze never leaving the seat of his throne. “Do what you will outside of this host but while I am at its head you will heed my will. I decide who is punished for failure and who is allowed to reclaim the god’s favor another day.” The elves behind Alith Anar carried half a dozen chests between them. Upon reaching his throne the Everchosen turned and sat, immediately slouching as if bored. “We have warred for countless seasons. What do we have to show for it?” The elves arrayed the chests around his throne.

“I have the blood of Dwarf kings on my blade, Everchosen!” The lane that Alith Anar had cut through the crowd on his arrival remained open, and from the countless ranks of the Chaos faithful a rain of skulls, their parched skin still bristling with ruined beards that had once been immaculately kept by the lords of Karaz Ankor. Now they were nothing but a tangled heap, jaws slack open with the silent screams of their final moments. Alith Anar leaned forward and then gestured to the herald at his right hand. One of the chests was thrown open, and a line of crowned heads with wispy white beards was drawn out, chains looped through the Dwarf lord’s ears.

“I will match you head for head, soul for soul.” The Everchosen announced. “But surely the woe of Karaz Ankor is not all that we have accomplished? I refuse to believe that my host stretched from the great seas to the spine of the world and has only captured these few beardlings.”

“Everchosen!” A mighty beast stepped forward, his skin bursting with pustules and a great spear in one mighty paw. “I have slain the mightiest warlords and chieftains of men!” He planted the spear into the ice, cracking it with his strength. The twisted faces of men formed a totem along its shaft.

“The banners of a dozen slaughtered tribes!”

“Relics of their primitive gods, marked for the glory of Chaos!”

“Pah! It is one thing to meet a man on the battlefield and take his life! I have faced them when their world collapses around them…the heads of their wives!”

All these treasures and more were laid at the Everchosen’s feet. His expression remained unchanged, save for the slow tap of his finger against his pallid cheek. “A fair pile.” He said appreciatively. “But it lacks a theme…Typical of these barbarian men, that they would provide the same baseless complications in their spoils as in their miserable lives!” His declaration was met with a roar of approval, even among the mortal champions. Alith Anar gestured to the herald at his left. Another chest was opened, and from it Mathi Alfblut’s banner was unfurled and draped over the remains of the human tribes. “The standard of their greatest champion. I slew him on the fields before their pitiful citadel...and as all others who had come before him he did not walk away.” A stillness, pregnant with unasked questions and hidden doubts settled over the horde. A hammer was drawn from the chest, golden runes decorating its sides. “And this is a promise that the business which was left unfinished following his demise will be completed.” The weapon was tossed onto the pile, capping it.

Alith Anar was quick to move off this point, his cold gaze and the third eye on his brow piercing the assembled lords as it swept over them. “For too long in this war we allowed the forces of the dead Witch King and his hag mother to constrain our actions. The elf kingdom on this continent, if one could call such a hive of cross breeding and decadence either elven or a kingdom, is no more. It is certain that in the citadels of Ulthuan parades are held as the weak scions of Malekith proclaim the final end to their war…but I know that it was the sons of Chaos who ground down the last vestiges of a bygone age beneath their boot!” Another roar erupted from the crowd. “Show them that this war has only begun! Show me all that remains of Sarthailor!”

The shadowy fiends of the Mordkessel coven stepped forward before anyone else could answer the Everchosen’s call. “The secrets of a thousand lifetimes of men, Everchosen.” They hissed, their hidden voices carrying just far enough for Alith Anar. One of their number opened a chest, and poured from within a tide of black soot. “The ashes of their wisdom, the judgment of the folly of their magic. A hundred spellbooks we place before you, their knowledge consumed by our fire.”

Not to be outdone a ratman, one of the few that held council with the forces of Chaos, whose eyes were milky white with blindness and his fur lost to a disease that ravaged his skin removed a long cord from around his tattered robes. “For the Everchosen-Elf, the toll of our silent war against his kin kin…the sharp ears cut from the younglings who died during the sieges of their cities. Younglings who gasped out their last before any blow was struck, such was the potency of the plague that coursed through them.”

“Sorcery and trickery!” A red faced norseman shoved the rat aside once he had deposited his gruesome trophy on the truly impressive pile before the Everchosen. “These are not gifts for the Everchosen! We grant you bushels of rings taken from their knights, the half-breeds who had the courage to face us! Let their blood crown your glory!”

When the ringing in the hall subsided from the cascade of jewelry upon its icy floor no one moved to replace it. Silence reigned in the cold dark until Alith Anar turned his head towards those warriors who represented Slaanesh. “I did not suspect that my call for Sarthailor’s remains would spark such competition…Was Slaanesh asleep during our wars there? Or do you merely have Druchii scraps to show for your efforts?”

An immaculately armored knight stepped forward at his Everchosen’s challenged, and knelt humbly before him. “Would that I could offer you a trophy to prove our valor, my lord…” One dangerous brow arched over Alith Anar’s cold eye. “…But what can I lay before you to signify the maidenheads taken from the most beautiful and fair denizens of Sarthailor?” The hall erupted into laughter from all corners, and even the Everchosen smiled as the Slaaneshi retreated back among his comrades. Alith Anar waited for the assembled warriors to have their fill of the joke at Sarthailor’s expense, until he raised his left hand. A hush fell over them as the burning sigil of Chaos appeared.

“Iaketh.” Alith Anar turned to his herald, “Bring it to me.” The largest chest of all was brought forth and laid at his feet. “I was delayed in reaching you today because of urgent matters in the South that required my immediate attention.” The latch was lifted and the lid thrown open so that the chest’s contents were hidden from everyone except the Everchosen. “I commend my host on its excellent campaign. You have put fear into the hearts of all the peoples of this world, your works before me testify to that. I have one final trophy to lay before you…” He reached into the chest and gripped the object inside, and then with elven quickness he pulled it out and slammed its considerable bulk atop the trophy pile. His face was contorted into a mask of rage.

The dead eyes of the once great Doomspeaker of Khorne, the daemon who had denounced the Everchosen in the ruins of Nuln, stared out at the assembled lords with Alith Anar’s armored hand wrapped around his one complete horn. “This pathetic beast believed that he knew the will of Chaos better than I!” The Everchosen roared, cold eyes roaming over the very silent and very still host. “He believed that as an elf I am not fit to lead this host. Some of you might believe as he did. Some fools among you might continue to believe this, even with the evidence of our victory piled before you. The treasure is immaterial. Look away from it. All that you and your traitor’s hearts need look upon is the face of this poor excuse for a daemon and see what his beliefs brought to him!” He cast the severed head to the ice where it slide and then came to a pitiful stop. “The fate of the Doomspeaker is the fate of all who oppose my leadership. It is the fate of all cowards who cannot confront the power of Chaos that now courses over this land. Victory is within our grasp. Those who oppose me are those who would fail to seize it.” The Everchosen didn’t allow any response. He rose from his throne and began to stride out the way he had come. The wolf rose with him.

Now. A familiar voice echoed inside Kaas’ skull, at first freezing the blood in his veins and causing his heart to seize. He thinks it finished. His vision is clouded by his own confidence. Break him. No Everchosen should speak with such confidence, such heresy…Chaos directs him, he does not direct us! The mortal champion of Tzeentch’s grip tightened on his blade, but he could not move his feet. The voice in his head seethed. You are a worthless maggot, Kaas! You would let this elf walk from this chamber after he insulted you so? He treats you like children! Destroy him, Kaas! Destroy him now! His face flinched at the daemon’s power, and he could feel the power building in his sword. The spite on his tongue was being channeled through the rest of his being, infusing every sinew and fiber with an irresistible call to action. Kill him, Kaas. The Everchosen’s gaze was focused on the far end of the chamber as he passed by Kaas, ebon hair twisting with the speed of his stride. Soon the Tzeentch lord would be behind him. Kill him. He will never let you this close again. This is his mistake. No Everchosen can make such a mistake. Kill him. Kill the elf. Kaas took a single step forward, and from there his path was committed. The tip of his blade began to rise.

Kaas took another step, his eyes focusing on the Everchosen’s back as it presented itself. The daemon in his sword that hungered for the death of the elven usurper and the restoration of its own power worked its will, and for the second time in as many crucial confrontations the Eye of Sheerian was made blind. There was barely a rattle in Kaas’ armor to betray his movement, and his was quick enough that even though a dozen Shadow Warriors saw him step away from the other lords and guessed immediately at his murderous intentions the cries of warning to their lord were just barely forming in their throats. Dozens of other eyes watched, but would have done nothing anyway. This was the way of Chaos, Kaas sword as the hammer of judgment upon their leader. To them he was the will of the gods in action. The outcome was in their hands, and whatever it was, it would be followed. There would be no tears of mourning for Alith Anar when Kaas ran him through. His followers would have to die, but their blood was but a drop in the vast sea that coursed through the champions of Chaos. If the Everchosen’s crusade was to end here then so be it. This was not a hall of honor. If Alith Anar died without ever looking upon the face of his assassin then that was his fault and his fault alone. He should have been more careful.

The assassin did not make a sound as he tightened his grip and lunged forward. Even the Everchosen’s mighty armor could not turn aside the daemon blade. It was a killing blow. Once the steel penetrated his frame the power of the daemon within would be unleashed, scorching away the elf within. Kaas completed his lunge, his eyes never leaving the Everchosen’s back. It was the victory he had always dreamed of, made more sweet by the rush of power through his body as he tensed, his entire frame behind the killing blow. He hadn’t even encountered any resistance, but he hadn’t expected any. His blade had earned its reputation. A broad smile formed on his features, and he felt something akin to euphoria. You fool! The daemon screeched in his head. The smile fell and his eyes refocused on his blade. It was clean as it hovered in the air. He could even see its reflection in the ice below, and it was there that he saw the dark form reaching for him, eyes ablaze.

Kaas was pulled off balance as Alith Anar gripped his sword arm. The Everchosen’s cloak was still floating in the air from his quick move, the gift of Slaanesh draining from him as he settled himself once again in the material world. Once grounded on the ice again he wasted no time, overwhelming any contingency Kaas might have formed with his own speed. Having pulled the would be assassin off balance the Everchosen drew a dagger at his hip and drove it into his assailant’s shoulder before twisting it brutally. Kaas cried out, his sword falling from his grip. The daemon’s voice left his mind forever as the blade that contained it clattered to the ice. Alith Anar appeared to merely shrug his shoulder as he pushed on Kaas, but the gesture sent him sprawling onto his back. He reached for another weapon, but before he could reach it the tip of U’zuhl was at his throat, and he was still.

Silence returned to the hall after the quick flurry of the battle which has lasted no more than the blink of an eye. It was broken only by Kaas’ labored breath and the almost silent drip of his blood onto the cold floor. “I did not need prophecy to know that you would betray me, Kaas.” Alith Anar said, his voice even and calm. “But you are weak. Continue to fight, and you will die. Surrender, reveal to me the location of Lord Immortalis’ camp and you may live with your shame.” The Tzeentch lord’s eyes widened, hatred replacing the moment of fear that had gripped him. “Oh? Did you think I might have overlooked him and his rebel band as I would overlook you? You sorely underestimate me, Kaas. You and your traitorous kind always have. Now. Your choice. Care to test your daemon against mine?”

“In Immortalis’ name!” A minotaur lord of considerable size and with the mark of Khorne branded between his horns broke from the ranks of the Everchosen’s followers and charged Alith Anar. He brandished a massive hammer but the outcome of the confrontation was never in doubt. The Everchosen lifted his blade away from Kaas and called out the daemon’s name. The minotaur was cut down where he stood, shredded by the hungry ethereal talons. While the assembled lords could tolerate the swift battle with Kaas the appearance of another traitor sent them into an uproar. The Shadow Warriors leapt forward, bows singing as they cut down anyone they deemed to be a threat to their lord. The air hummed with magic as dozens of mages summoned their power, and still more warriors rushed Alith Anar. Kaas, rather than striking out at the occupied Everchosen and risk humiliation once again rolled away from him and retrieved his blade. But the voice of he daemon was silenced, and already rust was beginning to cover its surface.

Alith Anar cut down the few who rushed him with contemptuous ease. Things had gotten quickly out of hand, but it was no matter. Kaas was no matter. Immortalis was no matter. He merely waited for the various traitors to either die or flee while the wolf looked on with an approving smile on his muzzle. When it seemed that the revolt was about to turn into a sectarian battle between the followers of the various gods Alith Anar drove his sword into the ice. The resulting crack echoed like thunder throughout the ruins of Praag, both above and below.

“Chaos does not build empires!” He declared. “You are to go to the surface. Purge from the host here any who are disloyal to the true Everchosen of Chaos, and then prepare to depart.” Alith Anar removed his sword, but the cracks in the ice floor continued to spread. “We move south. The blight of Malekith is still thick in these lands. Immortalis is of no concern to me.” He turned, and with the Shadow Warriors forming up as his bodyguard, began to depart. His next words were casual, cast over his shoulder and then forgotten. “Leave the traitors to their tomb. Hurry out, lest you be buried yourselves.”

***

Alith Anar watched Praag collapse from his tent high on a ridge overlooking the city. Shadow Warriors had staked out a perimeter, no one was to approach him this night. He sat in silence, running his fingers through the wolf’s tangled mane as he observed his host. The thick blanket of clouds overhead were red with the reflected carnage below. It seemed that the whole vast host was ablaze, but in truth only a small number would perish. Every few moments some Khornate warrior, exulting in the slaughter, would let out a howl of ecstasy or a beast would bray as it was cut down. The valley was alive with the noise of death, the purifying slaughter that would purge any traitors from his midst.

“You handled this well, Alith Anar.” The wolf spoke, as if waking from a dream. “They will forever remember this night. We should give it a name.”

“Names will soon have no meaning.” Alith Anar replied, his voice distant.

The wolf’s ears perked. “Oh? Is that why you spared Kaas? What are you convinced of, elf?”

“I spared Kaas because he is worthless…I have a feeling that he will survive what’s happening below. It would be mercifully if he were to die.” The Everchosen replied.

“You did not answer my question.” The wolf settled again, his head between his paws.

“This whole campaign…It was just twilight.” Alith Anar said, looking to the west. “A long, bloody setting of the sun…But a sliver of light remains.”

The wolf seemed to hmm, though it was a feral sound rumbling in his chest as he closed his eyes, content to allow Alith Anar to continue to stroke him. “What will you do, Alith Anar?” He asked sleepily, as if he already knew the answer and was even bored by it.

“I will usher in an eternal night.”