PURIFICATION
by Robert E. Vardeman


THEODRIC FAHRENGELD HESITATED, cocked his head to one side and listened hard. He was being stalked. The roar of the Howling River behind him drowned out the small clicking sounds of toenails against rock, almost. He looked up into the foothills of the World's Edge Mountains, hunting for movement, the glint of setting sunlight on steel, anything. It was the deep whiff he took of the razor cold air that alerted him to his foe. With a swift movement, he drew his sword, swung around and stared into the skaven's squinting, bloodshot eyes. Theodric's first savage slash cut off a hand holding a dagger. Blood spurted outwards over him in a sticky red fountain. Locked in a furious rage, he slashed, and took off an extended arm clutching a sharp edged sword.
The skaven he faced snarled, showed broken yellow teeth and waved bloody stumps at him. This time Theodric planted his feet, took his sword hilt firmly in both hands and directed the blunted, battle-nicked blade at the ratman's scrawny throat. The impact of steel against spine knocked Theodric back a step, and only partially decapitated his mortal enemy.
It took a second cut to completely part head from body. The scrawny rat carcass quivered and kicked in its death throes.
For a moment all Theodric could do was pant harshly and stare at the corpse. Then pain clawed at his brain, and his eye burned with hellish fury. He clapped a hand over his right eye and tried to dig it out to give release from the intense pain.
No, do not. You must put out the food.
The voice in his head vibrated, and threatened to knock loose what little sanity he had left. He had no choice but to obey. Blinking furiously, he opened both eyes and stared. His vision was slightly blurred in his right eye because of the daemonic maggot burrowing inside it.
Now, came the command he could not resist. You will not fail me. I let you kill that one because you have not completed what I need done.
'I hate you!' Theodric tried to draw his knife and plunge it into his own heart, through the armhole in his chainmail. Better to die a coward on his own blade than to betray his city, his beloved wife Signy and his two daughters, Kara hardly five and Gretchen scant weeks past three. If he did as the maggot ordered, they would die along with his city and his honour. Theodric wore the burden heavily because he was the captain of the guard, entrusted with protecting Hochwald from its enemies, not betraying it.
His hand shook as he pulled the blade closer to his flesh, but every thought he had, every move he made, was studied closely by the damnable maggot that had insinuated itself into his eye. Ottiwell, Hochwald's sorcerer, had cried out one morning eight days ago that witchsight burned his brain. Something new and terrible had come to bedevil the city. No patrol of callow youth would suffice to meet this danger outside the city walls. On a patrol with his four most trusted veteran soldiers, Theodric had come upon a sorcerer busying himself with arcane doings. He knew immediately that this was the source of Ottiwell's anguish. His skin had crawled and he felt immediately nauseous.
When the shrivelled man crouching in the centre of the sandy spit looked up, Theodric knew fear. The eyes fixed on his were filled with more hate than he believed existed in the world.
He did not remember giving the order to attack, but his men had surged forward, into spells cast by that sorcerer of Nurgle, Lord of Pestilence. A cry had ripped from the lips of Norbert, to Theodric's right, as an inky veil was cast forth and descended on him, slashing deep, bloody channels in his flesh. The instant a strand of that horror net touched his handsome face, necrosis began. The flesh decayed into stringy, grey gobbets until only stark white skull bone showed. Burnick, to his left had fared no better. A greasy snake had whipped along the ground at the vile sorcerer's conjuring. Its mouth had opened impossibly wide and Burnick had been sucked within, swallowed whole. Theodric had not heard the man's death cries; he had felt them deep in his soul. Within seconds, only viscous brown sputum with the aspect of sewage leaked from the snake's fanged mouth. Theodric had slashed viciously, severing the snake's head.
Ankle-deep in filth as the magical snake fell apart, Theodric had watched helplessly as Arienn and Willem died together from the sorcerer's next casting. Their bellies bulged, then exploded. Only their armour held them together long enough for their bodies to collapse. Then their guts oozed forth in an obscene tide of gore and entrails.
Although it was steel against sorcery, Theodric had set upon the man, now weakened from casting such horrific spells in his own defence. The accursed sorcerer of Nurgle defended himself well with first dagger and then spell. The four with Theodric had been slain; they were the lucky ones.
Before the minion of Nurgle had at last perished under Theodric's relentless blade, he had cast a final spell, sending a sorcerous worm into the soldier's mouth. Theodric had tried to spit it out, cut it out, and drive it from him with a firebrand. To no avail. It had slowly bored upwards through the roof of his mouth and had lodged in his right eye. What daemonic instructions or perilous mission it had been entrusted with mattered less to Theodric than the agony he bore, in body and mind, if he tried to disobey the maggot. It saw what he saw and knew what he intended. It read his mind and fought constantly to control his actions. If cajoling failed, it resorted to soul-slaying pain.
Theodric failed to kill himself. Instead, he dropped his dagger and opened a sealed jar, as ordered. He began spreading the foul meat along the protective wall on Hochwald's north-east corner where no guard patrolled. The Howling River rushed past the north side of the walled city, affording only a narrow path between unscalable wall and treacherous flowing water.
No man could attack from that vantage, but the skaven were not men. If drawn to this spot, they could clamber up the east wall in numbers great enough to overwhelm the city watch. Before Ottiwell's insect-destroying spell had been laid, years of insert borne diseases had reduced the ranks of fighting men inside the walls, forcing the diminished guard to stare out over plains to the south and farmlands to the west where other, human armies were most likely to attack. Northern water and eastern foothills were only occasionally under scrutiny. Therein lay the maggot's plan. Lure the skaven from their underground lair to the city's weak point.
The daemonic worm had learned of this failing in Hochwald's defence from Theodric, reading his mind, forcing him to think of ways to defeat his own people. He closed his right eye and stared hard at the fallen dagger, but he knew he could never kill himself. The worm knew his intention at the same instant he did and countered him every time.
As he scattered the rotted entrails, he heard the chittering of skaven scouts in the nearby eastern hills. He was betraying his city, his family and his clan. The rat-men's attack would succeed, because Theodric could do naught but obey the Nurgle-sent worm in his eye.
With a disgusted heave, he threw the rest of the meat away from the guard wall into a pool carved into the riverbank. His sword slid smoothly from its scabbard when he saw two skaven already on the odorous trail into the heart of the city that he was honour bound to protect.
No, let them...
Theodric forced away the command by will alone. A berserk rage seized him, wresting control from the daemon maggot. He was blind in his right eye, but he cared nothing. Fury such as he had never experienced, even in the heat of battle at Middenheim, possessed him totally. Sword swinging, he thundered forward. He heard distant echoes in his brain telling him to stop, but the rage overwhelmed his senses.
Theodric's blade slashed a bright, deadly arc and cut deeply into a skaven warrior's torso. Foul blood spurted, and the ratman let out an ear splitting screech. Theodric put his foot against the skaven's thin armour and tough body, and kicked hard, freeing his blade from its leather armour sheath so that he could twist around and gut another of the huge rats.
He got in one last swipe at a third ratman, now far past danger from his blade, before his rage faded and the maggot regained control. The skaven scout vanished eastward into the hills. Theodric dropped to his knees and lowered his defiled blade as he waited for death.
It did not come. A sense of triumph filled him, but it was not his triumph.
I have impressed on the ratman's mind that a religious artefact, a claw from their great Lord Skrolk, is being desecrated within the city. Nothing will stop the ratmen from climbing the city walls!
Theodric sobbed heavily. He had failed. The daemonic maggot had won. Within days the skaven horde would surge forwards and overwhelm his city.

'GO AWAY,' THEODRIC called. He had seen Signy, dressed in the fine quilted coat he had given her on his promotion to city captain, coming up the winding path, but had hoped she would not discover him. She was almost as good a tracker as he was, and was focused on finding him. He hunkered down in the rocky depression and clung to his sword. He worried that the daemon worm in his eye would find a use for her. Theodric was tired to the bone from fighting the worm these past three days. It waited for something, and the man feared that he knew what. The skaven were gathering in a cavern that opened above Hochwald. With the lies the maggot had forced into the ferocious brain of their scout, the entire skaven clan would attack an unsuspecting city.
'I will not. Theo, come out here.' Signy stamped her tiny foot and put her balled fists on her hips. She might have been ordering their small daughters about, instead of her husband and captain of the city guard. 'Everyone in the city thinks you are dead. I knew you weren't.'
'Why not?'
'I... I didn't feel it,' she said. 'Now come out where I can see you.' She gasped and took an involuntary step back when she saw him.
'Go away. Hurry. You have to warn everyone in the city that the skaven are going to attack.'
'Skaven? They're nothing but tales to frighten the children.' She took a deep whiff of him and almost gagged. Once, he had cut a heroic figure in his uniform. Not now. His sallet was dented and the insignia of his rank had been torn free. His demeanour matched the aspect of his tattered, filthy long coat. 'I fear for you, Theo. Please, come back with me.'
'I carry their scent,' Theodric said, holding up his arms. He was still drenched in their vile blood. The worm refused to allow him to cleanse himself. His chainmail rattled and clanked with his every movement as the rings rotated, scrubbing themselves of rust and blood, but his flesh still chafed from contact with the skaven blood.
'I...' Signy hesitated. She stared hard at him and saw the truth on his face. 'They are real?'
'That is what Ottiwell's witchsight revealed.'
'Come back, then, Theo. You can rally the guard. They are in such disarray with you gone, my dear.'
'Horst is not much of a commander,' he said. His chief lieutenant was a political appointment, although Horst sometimes showed flashes of skill in combat. But as a leader, he left much to be desired.
'Come along. We can bathe you and-'
'No!'
She stared at him with her sky bright eyes. Her mouth opened and then clamped shut. Signy started to speak again and then she began to shake all over.
'No, no, stop, stop!' Theodric hammered at his head with his fist, trying to deter the daemon worm. Madness threatened him, but it would be preferable to allowing the maggot to influence Signy.
She is mine now, the maggot said smugly. She will obey me.
'Not when she's out of your sight. I'll cut my own hamstrings so I can't follow.'
The worm did not respond. There was no need. Theodric knew he would be unable to injure himself to such an extent before Nurgle's worm stopped him.
'Who are you talking to?' Signy was pale and her voice was strained, but she seemed unaware that she had experienced a seizure.
'Run, Signy, return to the city and warn them the skaven are preparing to attack on the eastern salient. Even Horst can mount a decent defence given enough time.'
'I... what am I supposed to tell them?' Confusion warped her lovely face as she struggled to remember what he had told her.
'The skaven: the ratmen are going to attack.'
'What?'
She is unable to warn them. I have ordered her to forget. The worm laughed harshly. The sound echoed within Theodric's head until he wanted to scream in agony.
'What of Blackwind?'
'Our raven? He is above somewhere.' Signy put her fingers into her mouth and let loose a shrill whistle. From high above came a black speck that grew in size with frightening speed. At the last possible instant, a huge raven thrust out its wings, braked and landed lightly on the padded shoulder of her heavy coat.
'Skaven are going to attack,' Theodric said quickly. 'Warn the guard in my name.'
It will do no good, the maggot said. The raven is quite intelligent and its split tongue gives it the power of speech, but it cannot warn the city, either.
'Damn you, damn you,' Theodric cried, falling to his knees. He looked up at his wife and the bird fluttering to maintain its balance on her shoulder. He had hoped the worm would not realise the raven's speech ability, but then the magical worm knew whatever he did. How could he outsmart himself?
You cannot, the maggot gloated. Nurgle will be served. Your city and all within it will die. The skaven will gnaw the bones of your family.
'Leave, go back to Hochwald,' Theodric said. That was not what he wanted to tell Signy. He wanted her to gather their daughters and flee the city before the skaven destroyed it. The worm would not allow him to give her such a warning. But a thought came to him that had been crouching at the fringes of his imagination. The worm could not enter Hochwald by itself.
Ottiwell! The entire city was under the sorcerer's protective spell. After being overrun by locusts that threatened to devour their grain, Ottiwell had cast a sheltering spell that drove out all insects. The spell must still be in full force, otherwise the maggot would allow Theodric to enter, and there the worm would complete whatever Nurgle spawned plot it had been entrusted with.
'Goodbye, Theo,' Signy said. She reached up to Blackwind, transferring the raven from her shoulder to her left wrist as if it were a gyrfalcon preparing to take flight after pigeons.
He tried to beg her to take her regards to Ottiwell. With his witchsight, the sorcerer might sense the foul stench of Nurgle's magicks on her and respond. But words would not come to his lips, thanks to the daemonic presence in his eye. Theodric watched her leave, knowing she was magically bound never to speak of the warning, and had no reason to seek out Ottiwell. Hochwald would perish and, along with the city, so would his family. The man cried openly, to the maggot's great pleasure.

* * *

HE COULD NOT count their numbers. The skaven scampered through the cavern in the foothills above Hochwald, hidden in shadows, caused by sunlight angling inward from outside, but revealing themselves by their stench. Theodric stood a little straighter and wondered if dying at the gnarled hand of a skaven warrior would be possible. Drop his sword just a bit from en garde, let a high-line blade thrust end his life. That would relieve him of the guilt he felt for luring the skaven to his city, showing them how to breach the defences and - his heart almost exploded from hammering so hard - the inevitable death of his family.
I will not let them harm you, the maggot said. They are simple-minded and easily controlled.
'Then you don't need me. Let me die.'
I want you to suffer.
Theodric knew there was more reason than this for the daemonic worm keeping him alive. No matter how much magic had been infused into the worm by the well-slain sorcerer, it could never move as quickly as a man strode. Theodric could travel thirty miles a day, if necessary. A worm, even a daemonic one, might wriggle only thirty feet. The only consolation he had was in forcing the worm to summon the skaven army, because Ottiwell's ward spell prevented insects and their ilk, including maggots and worms, from entering Hochwald.
Stop thinking that, the maggot ordered sharply. You will never attempt to enter Hochwald.
'The spell would kill you, wouldn't it?'
You will die, too.
Theodric said nothing. He wished he was at the front gate of his city so he could rush forward until the sorcerer's ward spell drove the maggot from his head. What did it matter if he died? Had he not tried to kill himself rather than suffer the shame his actions brought down on him?
You will live to see the skaven ripping the flesh off your daughters' living bodies, the daemon worm crowed.
Theodric's hand shook as he gripped his sword hilt. He looked into the dimly lit cavern filled with skaven and wondered if even a fully armed and warned army could turn them when they attacked. They were so numerous that it hardly seemed likely.
They need prodding, the maggot said. They assemble but do not venture forth.
Theodric stumbled when he was forced to turn and walk away from the cavern mouth. The steep slope took its toll on him physically. He had not eaten well since the worm had invaded his eye; it had not allowed it. Theodric trudged along, an unwilling participant in whatever new scheme the worm had concocted. Once free of the cave, he was directed towards the spot where he had killed Nurgle's sorcerer. Hope was born again. There might be something hidden among the dead mage's belongings that would be useful.
You do not know the spells, the daemon worm said coldly. You will find the pit holding the warpstone.
'I can't handle that. It will kill me. The smallest touch will drive me insane!'
How strong is the will to live in you feeble humans, the worm observed. Do you want to die? Then why do you balk at touching warpstone?
Theodric could not answer. All his life he had feared magical things. Although Ottiwell protected Hochwald and even used his magical skills, giving hope with the occasional healing, Theodric wanted as little to do with the Dark Powers as possible. If a man should die, let it be in battle, swinging a sword. An arrow or crossbow bolt through the heart was a better death than rotting from some vile spell. He had no idea what might happen if he touched the warpstone, but it had to be horrific.
'What do you plan to do with the warpstone?' It hardly seemed fair that the daemon worm could read his thoughts, but he had no idea what the maggot planned. This thought caused him to laugh harshly. Nothing had been fair since he had slain Nurgle's minion.
The skaven need to be given an incentive to attack Hochwald, the worm said. This will provide it.
'Will it kill them?'
Theodric believed he had got a whiff of the maggot's plan. The skaven were fierce fighters but lacked direction. Tossing warpstone into their midst would focus them on Hochwald in ways that a few pounds of rotten entrails and a couple of magically implanted suggestions never could.
They will fight to retrieve their artefact.
'Their hero's nonexistent claw,' Theodric said. 'Why do you want Hochwald destroyed? Because of Ottiwell's spell? All you need to do is avoid the city.' Even as he spoke he knew the maggot had been conjured into existence after its master had come to the walls. Whatever necessity there had once been for destroying Hochwald had died with Nurgle's sorcerer. Something more was at play.
I am as much a pawn as you are, the maggot said in a surprising revelation. Now dig. Dig!
Theodric stumbled forward and fell to his knees. He saw where something had been hidden under a huge stack of rocks. Throwing back the smaller ones left a trio of immense rocks that he could hardly reach around, much less move. The worm kept him hard at work, trying different tactics to move the boulders. He finally got a long branch, found a fulcrum for the lever and used that to budge one rock. The instant the stone rolled away, Theodric dropped the branch and threw up his hands to cover his eyes.
Look into the face of hell, the worm said.
The radiant power of the skull-sized warpstone was immediately evident. Theodric clamped his left eye closed, but from his right where the maggot resided leapt a lambent green luminescence that enfolded the warpstone and dimmed its raw power.
Wrap the warpstone in cloth, ordered the maggot.
With a heavy heart, Theodric did as he was ordered. The worm used its power over him only twice to send lightning bolts of pain down into his groin to ensure his obedience. The heavy lump of warpstone secured in the dead sorcerer's cloak, Theodric slung it over his shoulder and began the hike back to the cavern where the skaven were assembled.
The world shifted endlessly around him as he walked. Theodric swallowed hard and tried to keep his balance.
Do not fail me, warned the worm. The warpstone works on your senses. Keep walking. Get to the skaven army and throw the warpstone into their midst!
Theodric knew what the result would be. The ratmen would go berserk. The snapping, snarling tide would flood out of the cave and down the slopes to Hochwald. Without an adequate guard on the east wall, the skaven could clamber up and into the city. The walls that had protected those within so ably, and for so long, would turn into a prison. The skaven would slaughter them no matter how hard they fought.
Hurry! I grow impatient for this to be over.
'Why?' asked Theodric. 'What is within Hochwald that incites you so?'
He swung the warpstone around, pulling it up higher so that it bumped into his head. As it touched Theodric's skull, the maggot reacted. Theodric felt an excitement more than sexual, more than physical, more than spiritual. In that instant, the worm leaked a small thought that Theodric intercepted.
He caught his breath. A silk-thread case of eggs lay within Hochwald, unaffected by Ottiwell's ward spell because they were still dormant. Should the protoworms be fertilised, if Ottiwell's spell was lifted, they would hatch and swarm throughout the city. Once each worm found a human host, they would spread throughout the Badlands to the south, to Tilea, north to the Empire. Theodric stumbled and staggered as the daemon worm revelled in the power of the warpstone.
To cover the zephyr of thought he had inadvertently shared, Theodric swung the cloak with the warpstone wrapped within above his head. Like a hammer thrower, he heaved with all the power in his back, sending the cloak with its load high into the air. For a brief instant, it blazed brighter than the sun. Or was that the worm within his eye reacting to the warpstone? Blinded, he let out a scream and stumbled backwards as the warpstone smashed into the ground and exploded in a radiant cloud of dust. Each particle blazed like a new sun and twisted sinuously before fading, only to be replaced by yet another fragment.
Away, away, attack the human city!
Sightless, repelled by the feel of skaven pressing against him as they rushed through the cavern mouth towards Hochwald, Theodric cowered down. He had not realised he had come exactly to the spot the maggot wanted; his sense of time was twisted and wrong. Theodric clung to the hilt of his sword although he could not see. He thought to draw it and simply swing wildly, but the press of ratmen shifted too dramatically. At first they had rushed from the cave towards his city, but now they surged back. Theodric opened his eyes, but he remained blind.
To the city! The daemonic maggot tried to rally the skaven and keep them moving, but the warpstone had done more than whip them to frenzied activity. It had confused them as much as it had Theodric.
Blinking hard, he caught vague images and finally regained his sight. The worm had been agitated by the warpstone and still fought to control not only its own turbulent thoughts but also the skaven.
Theodric pressed back against a rock and saw that only a few skaven ventured out to attack against Hochwald. But this hesitation would be short-lived when the maggot regained its senses. He dug his toes in and ran as hard as he could. As he passed each ratman he took a swipe with his sword. Sometimes he struck, other times he did not, but the closer he got to Hochwald the more he realised the worm was reasserting its power over him. The respite granted by the warpstone faded.
Stop. Do not attack the ratmen. Let them find their way to the walls of your city. They will dine on human flesh tonight!
Theodric fell to his knees, sobbing in anger and frustration. The worm had regained its control over him. His sword clattered to the ground. All around, he heard the excited chittering of the rats as the daemonic maggot urged them onwards. Theodric looked up at a distant sound, scanning the sky until he saw a tiny black speck. He watched, uncomprehending. Then he understood.
The worm understood the danger at the same instant; too late.
Theodric's raven, Blackwind, dived like a feathered arrow, beak outstretched. Theodric screamed as the bird hit him in full dive and knocked him backwards. Then he gave voice to true pain as Blackwind pecked at his right eye. The sharp beak tip tapped first against his forehead, causing a tiny fountain of blood to flow down and blind the maggot-infested eye. Blackwind sank talons into Theodric's neck to steady itself. It found its true target and drove downward, beak severing first his eyelid and then the sensitive flesh holding the eye. A wet popping sound was followed by a jolt of pain that seized Theodric and caused his entire body to go rigid. The rictus quickly passed, and he twitched feebly. He wiped blood and the remains of his sundered eye socket away to see the raven raise its head, open its beak and then swallow his eye, whole, with the daemon worm inside it.
'Blackwind,' he gasped out. Theodric pressed his hand to his empty eye socket. 'Thank you.' The raven turned its head to one side, looked at him knowingly, then launched into the air. In seconds the bird had vanished.
Theodric squared his shoulders, took one last look into the cloudless sky and knew he had lost a companion and true friend. If the bird's sacrifice was not to be forfeit, Theodric had to reach Hochwald and rally the guard. Even Horst would have to see the menace facing the city when the first wave of skaven swarmed from the foothills out of their underground lair.
His body exhausted, Theodric moved by force of will. Picturing Signy and his daughters helped. The need to make up for his lapse of honour in rousing the skaven, though it had been at the maggot's command, drove him even harder. After what seemed an eternity, he stumbled towards the roar of the river and finally saw the stone walls and main gate of his city.
'Alert!' he cried. 'Alert the guard. Attack! The city is under attack!'
'That you, cap'n?' A youngling, hardly sixteen summers past, peered nearsightedly at him from a watchtower.
'Skaven,' he gasped out. 'There's an army of skaven on my heels. We must repel them. They'll attack along the east wall.'
'But we don't have no guards there,' the young man said, confused.
'Open the gate. Let me in. That's an order, soldier.'
Theodric was glad to see that some measure of discipline still held. The youngling scampered down to open the gate personally.
'We thought you was dead. Ain't seen you in weeks, Cap'n Fahrengeld.'
'Ring the alarm bell, and send word immediately to Ottiwell. There're enemy spells involved.'
Theodric was barely strong enough to swing the heavy gate closed behind him, but he succeeded. Then he made certain the locking bar fell into place. The skaven would not attack this point at first, but when their assault on the east wall failed, they would try other routes to gain entry. The maggot had instilled the false message in enough of them, and had spurred them on with the warpstone.
The bell clanged loudly and echoed throughout Hochwald, calling out the soldiers and alerting the populace.
'Who ordered the alarm?' Horst pushed his way from his command post near the gate and then stopped and stared, open mouth. 'Is it you, captain? Truly you?'
'Reinforce the east wall immediately. Then double the guard. Get enough arms and arrows there for a long fight. And Ottiwell, summon the sorcerer right away.'
'It is you! Under all that blood and dirt, it is you!' crowed Horst. He grabbed Theodric by the shoulders and pulled him around to be certain of his identity. 'No one else would have such presence to command-'
'Obey!' Theodric braced himself on the curving wall of the staircase spiralling up to the walkways. He was pleased to see Horst coming to heel without more of his endless yammering.
'Right away, captain!' Horst cried. He spun and bellowed, 'A hundred of the guard to the east wall.' He glanced over his shoulder at his commander and then changed the order. 'Two hundred! Two hundred guardsmen to the eastern battlements!'
Theodric clapped Horst on the shoulder, more to support himself than to assure the man he had done well.
'Go,' Theodric gasped. 'Take charge until I get there. It will be the fight of our lives!' He saw Horst blanch and then nod once. 'Courage,' Theodric said. This simple order stiffened Horst's backbone and sent the officer rushing off, bellowing for guardsmen to supply those on the wall and reinforce their line, should it be necessary. Theodric hoped it would be enough. He knew the danger they faced. Horst did not.
Legs swollen and arms like lead, Theodric made his way to the top of the guard wall. He reached up and put his hand over the empty eye socket that still oozed blood. His depth perception was gone. In the distance everything looked equally far away. That would not matter. He gripped the hilt of his sword and began walking around to get to the east wall.
He saw a ripple of dread pass through the guards who had already responded to Horst's command. Theodric knew what caused their uneasiness.
'Archers, fire!' he bellowed. 'Not a single ratman is to reach the top. Slay them with arrows, then use your swords. When they are even closer, use your daggers! None shall enter my city!'
Seeing their captain buoyed their spirits and lent accuracy to their arrows. By the time Theodric reached the wall and peered down, a pile of dead skaven had provided a stepping stone for hundreds more. The ratmen died by tens and hundreds, and still they came.
Theodric lopped off the snout of the first rat warrior to reach the top of the wall. It squealed in pain and rage, and tumbled backwards into its fellows. Arrows whistled past Theodric's ears, and his world filled with an unending stream of flashing swords and dying skaven. He tried not to dwell on the huge numbers of his own men who perished at the blades and teeth of the skaven.
When he was sure he could no longer fight, he fought another minute, and then another few seconds. Then he cried out encouragement, hoarsely, until he could no longer hear his own voice. The stench of spilled blood and fear quietly faded as Theodric passed into unconsciousness.
He dreamed. It had to be a dream because it was so pleasant.
'My love,' Signy said and kissed him.
'My love,' he replied. Dead arms resurrected to embrace her. Then he realised this was no dream. His eye opened and fixed on his wife's lovely face only inches from his. 'You're alive?'
'Of course I am, and so are you.'
'Kara and Gretchen?'
'Safe. Everyone's safe because of you. The skaven have been defeated.'
'Run off, not defeated,' he said grimly. He used Signy as a crutch to stand. He sloshed about in ankle-deep blood as he moved along the parapet. His men cheered him, and he acknowledged them as best he could.
'Let's get you to a chirurgeon,' Signy said, steering him from the scene of the battle.
Theodric marvelled that the rats had been turned, but at such a huge cost! A hundred or more of his soldiers had died. He caught his breath. The youngling who had admitted him to the city and raised the alarm at his order had died and been partially gnawed.
'You are a hero of Hochwald,' came a deeply resonant voice.
Theodric turned his head and had trouble focusing. Having only one eye would require practice in seeing. He managed to work through the welter of colours in Ottiwell's robes, the purples and greens mingling with splotches of yellow and red.
'Ottiwell,' he said, head bowing to the deformed sorcerer. 'I want to commend you on your purification spell. It kept Nurgle's worm from the city.' He caught his breath as he remembered. 'There's an egg sac somewhere. I must-'
'It has been discovered and burned,' Ottiwell assured him.
Theodric looked at the sorcerer and for the first time, a smile came to his lips. 'Our master gives us all hope.'
'The forces of corruption have been routed,' Ottiwell said. 'That which was, is no more. The Lord of Change has prevailed!'
A joyous cry went up behind them, and from on high came a loud screech. Theodric canted his head to one side and saw Blackwind wheeling around above them. He held out his arm. The raven spiralled down and then suddenly veered away. Ottiwell's ward spell kept all insects at bay, including Nurgle's worm, resting in Blackwind's gut. Theodric mourned for the loss of the raven even as he rejoiced at all who had been saved.
'I would see our children,' he said.
Signy helped him down the stone steps and into a city honouring his valour.