Decrepit Dakkanaut
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It was the waiting, above all else, that kept Lehnmer on edge. He loudly ground his teeth as he paced the short corridor of space available in the command tent, his taut, muscled hands clasped so firmly behind his back that he had to force himself to relax them, so as not to have them go numb. Muffled peals of thunder reverberated across the camp, and the occasional bolt of lightning from the approaching storm lit up the blackened sky, buying the eyes of the Empire half a second of clear vision before the brief flash melted away into the darkness.
It would not be long before the heavens unleashed their torrents; if none of the scouts was successful then they might be forced to retreat back further, lest the barbarians of the North pass them by as they attempted to wait out the storm. Even at this distance, the scent of purified atmosphere swept in from the surrounding country, announcing the storm’s impending arrival.
Lehnmer hungered to be able to make a decision. Knowing his choices but being unable to select one was amongst one of the most irritating aspects of his command. His loyal soldiers of the Empire, his men-at-arms; bowmen; knights; hand-gunners; all expected him to be able to make decisions at the drop of a hat. They had not experienced the many burdens of command, and one of them was trying to ensure that his men lived long enough that they could take the burdens upon themselves, one day.
The limp grass had been flattened by his rhythmic footsteps as he had trodden up and down the space. As small as the tent was, in comparison to those the rank and file men slept in, it was a palace. That Lehnmer could stand up inside it at all was a luxury in itself, even if his height meant that his head only really fit beneath the raised centre. Clinking chains from outside the tent stopped Lehnmer in his tracks. Each time he heard his guards shifting he hoped to see the head of a scout poke through the tent flap. It never happened.
Lehnmer released an irritated sigh, ran a hand through his short, cropped brown hair, and resumed his pacing, turned at the back of the tent, and shouted in surprise at the man suddenly standing before him. He looked to be getting on in his years, and his wild mane of golden blonde hair was touched grey at the temples. His face proudly displayed the tell-tale signs of age and wisdom beside a small collection of scars, and although the man bore no great amount of facial hair, his time in the field had allowed his chin to collect a rough-looking beard.
A pair of intelligent-looking grey eyes appraised Lehnmer from beneath drooping eyebrows, and dark bags betrayed the fact that this man had clearly not been sleeping well recently.
“Damn it, Gustin,” Lehnmer muttered, his heart pounding at the scare, “I do wish you would stop… appearing.”
Gustin’s lips mouth curled into a mischievous grin; although his body and mind were old, his spirit was still as youthful as a child’s. “I’ve found that it keeps people on their toes.”
Lehnmer grunted and gestured to his well-trodden path in the grass, “My trouble at the moment is that I can’t seem to stay off my toes.”
“Then allow me to set your mind at ease, Captain,” Gustin began, his hands buried deep in the opposite sleeves of his immaculate crimson robes, “our scouts have just arrived back; the barbarians are on the move and we are directly in their path.” Lehnmer’s rough-hewn face brightened and his tight lips split into a small smile, mostly out of relief. After so many set-backs, to have things finally go his way was nothing short of miraculous. As if bidden by the very thought, Gustin coughed loudly. “I wouldn’t get too excited yet, Lukas, in fact, I’d prepare yourself to become very unexcited.” Lehnmer’s face reverted back to its previous state; the smile was gone as quickly as it had arrived. “At least two of our scouts were discovered and captured.”
Lehnmer’s face creased in puzzlement. The loss of scouts was of minimal consequence, especially when he was this close. The worst that would happen is that the barbarians would stay out of Empire territory until they could find safer passage in. Even they wouldn’t risk trying to sneak past the Empire army now it had been alerted. “They have little choice in the matter, now, either they come and face us, being annihilated in the process, or they attempt to cross at another point; either way our task here shall be complete.”
Gustin shook his head, “I’m afraid the tables have been turned on us. No, more than turned, the old table has been incinerated and a new one, crafted by the hands of the barbarians, put in its place.” He stared into Lehnmer’s eyes, “They do not fear us, Lukas, and knowing what I do, I do not blame them.” Lehnmer feared to ask why; why a Bright Wizard of Gustin’s talent would be so fearful of this news. Gustin, it seemed, recognised the spark of a question in Lukas’ gaze, “Less than a day past, the dread warriors were spotted in the company of the barbarians.” Lehnmer’s heart leapt into his throat. Sigmar save us, he thought, the dread warriors. “Chaos has come to claim the Empire, Lukas, and it is you who stands in its way.”
Only now did Lehnmer understand why Gustin was so afraid, for he also feared, not just for his life, of his men’s lives, but for all the lives of the Empire. His army alone stood before the combined forces of the Ruinous Powers. In that moment – that second of understanding – his life flashed before his eyes one hundred times. He didn’t remember dropping to his knees, nor did he remember tears welling in his eyes. He remembered only the crushing responsibility that had been placed upon his shoulders. In that short time, words escaped him, save one phrase he repeated to himself, over and over, in his mind.
He raised his head and stared up at Gustin through wet eyes. He wept not for himself, but for all those who would die in the following days, and all those who would die should they fail. Salty tears flowed into the corners of his partly-opened mouth, wetting his still tongue.
“Sigmar have mercy upon us, my friend,” He managed through his choked throat, “for without it we are surely lost.”
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I have two choices: the first is to leave this as a stand-alone, and the second is to add the small pieces I can for it whenever I'm able. Since I have a lot of unfinished stories floating about, I'm hesitant about promising more additions, but at the same time, it isn't completely finished until I've written out what's in my mind. If I do carry on then it's not going to be chaptered, since the story itself is small.
The only inspiration here was been the fact that I haven't written any prose in a while, and I wanted to write something, so I never set out for this to be my greatest work; but in any case, it was something that was only going to be sitting unread on my hard-drive if I didn't post it somewhere, so even if only a single person enjoys reading it then I'm happy.
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