The Rise of Nagash Read online

  The Rise of Nagash

  By

  Mike Lee

  Product Description

  The story of Nagash—father of the vampires—in one big volume. Nagash is the first necromancer and the supreme lord of undeath. He wrested the secrets of dark magic from the elves and perverted them to suit his ends. When the priest-kings of Nehekhara stood united against him, he broke their armies and sacked their cities. He raised the largest army of the dead the world has ever known and became an immortal dark god. His deeds are legend. This is his story.

  It is a time of Legends, a time of gods and daemons, of

  kings and heroes blessed with the power of the divine.

  The arid land of Nehekhara has been blessed by the hands

  of the gods, giving birth to the first great human

  civilization by the banks of the winding River Vitae. The

  Nehekharas dwell in eight proud city-states, each with its

  own patron deity whose blessings shape the character and

  fortunes of its people. The greatest of them all, situated at

  the nexus of this ancient land, is Khemri, the fabled

  Living City of Settra the Magnificent.

  It was Settra, hundreds of years before, who united the

  cities of Nehekhara into mankind’s first empire, and

  declared that he would rule over it forever. He

  commanded his priests to unlock the secret of life

  eternal, and when the great emperor eventually died, his

  body was entombed within a mighty pyramid until the

  day when his liche-priests would summon his soul back

  from the afterlife.

  After Settra’s death, his great empire unravelled, and

  Khemri’s power waned. Now, amid the haunted shadows

  of Khemri’s mortuary temple, a brilliant and mighty

  priest broods over the cruelties of fate and covets his

  brother’s crown.

  His name is Nagash.

  Table of Contents

  MAP

  INTRODUCTION

  NAGASH THE SORCERER

  BOOK ONE

  ONE: A Prayer Before Battle

  TWO: Second Sons

  THREE: The Black Vizier

  FOUR: The Fickle Tide

  FIVE: A Storm out of the East

  SIX: Death and Life

  SEVEN: The Wrath of Nagash

  EIGHT: Red Rain

  NINE: Secrets within the Blood

  TEN: Tidings of War

  ELEVEN: The Game of Kings

  TWELVE: Designs upon a Crown

  THIRTEEN: The Two-edged Blade

  FOURTEEN: The Bloodstained Sands

  FIFTEEN: Lessons in Death

  SIXTEEN: The Creeping Darkness

  BOOK TWO

  SEVENTEEN: Attack and Retreat

  EIGHTEEN: Sealed in Stone

  NINETEEN: Blood and Water

  TWENTY: The Long, Bitter Road

  TWENTY-ONE: The Elixir of Life

  TWENTY-TWO: Spirits of the Howling Wastes

  TWENTY-THREE: The White Gates

  TWENTY-FOUR: The Blood of Princes

  TWENTY-FIVE: The Road of Bones

  TWENTY-SIX: The City of the Gods

  TWENTY-SEVEN: The Undying King

  TWENTY-EIGHT: The City of the Gods

  TWENTY-NINE: The Lord of the Dead Lands

  THIRTY: The End of all Things

  EPILOGUE: The Casket of Souls

  DRAMATIS PERSONAE

  THE NEHEKHARAN PANTHEON

  NAGASH THE UNBROKEN

  ONE: Balance of Power

  TWO: The Burning Stone

  THREE: A Silken Betrayal

  FOUR: The Barrow-Lands

  FIVE: The Word of Kings

  SIX: The Barrow-thief

  SEVEN: The Right of Queens

  EIGHT: The Eye of the Burning God

  NINE: Among Thieves

  TEN: The Hour of the Dead

  ELEVEN: Necessary Sacrifices

  TWELVE: Apotheosis

  THIRTEEN: Blood for Blood

  FOURTEEN: The Dark Feast

  FIFTEEN: The Shadow of the Hawk

  SIXTEEN: The Glory of Nagash

  SEVENTEEN: The Deathless Court

  EPILOGUE: Portents of Destruction

  DRAMATIS PERSONAE

  THE NEHEKHARAN PANTHEON

  THE NEHEKHARAN CALENDAR

  NAGASH IMMORTAL

  DRAMATIS PERSONAE

  PROLOGUE: Mountain of Sorrows

  ONE: War in the Deeps

  TWO: Manifest Destinies

  THREE: Deadlock

  FOUR: Necessary Evils

  FIVE: Reversal of Fortunes

  SIX: Initiation Rites

  SEVEN: Unwelcome Conclusions

  EIGHT: Meditations on Life and Death

  NINE: Acts of Last Resort

  TEN: The Dispossessed

  ELEVEN: Into the Trap

  TWELVE: Children of a Hungry God

  THIRTEEN: The Price of Victory

  FOURTEEN: Blood and Sand

  FIFTEEN: The Crown of Nagash

  SIXTEEN: A Howl from the Wasteland

  SEVENTEEN: Preparations of War

  EIGHTEEN: Portents of Doom

  NINETEEN: Crook and Sceptre

  TWENTY: A Storm from the West

  TWENTY-ONE: Fire in the Night

  TWENTY-TWO: Last Stand

  TWENTY-THREE: The Usurper

  TWENTY-FOUR: The Last Light of Day

  TWENTY-FIVE: Holding Back the Darkness

  TWENTY-SIX: Tides of Bone

  TWENTY-SEVEN: At the Gates of the Dawn

  TWENTY-EIGHT: The Edge of Victory

  TWENTY-NINE: Red as Blood

  THIRTY: All Is Dust

  EPILOGUE: Land of the Dead

  PICKING THE BONES

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Introduction

  I was in Olso, Norway in December of 2006 when Lindsey Priestley, my editor, asked me the fateful question.

  ‘We’re going to be publishing a series of books focusing on the legendary figures of the Warhammer world, and we were wondering if you might be interested in writing a trilogy about Nagash.’

  The question caught me by surprise. I’d just finished the fifth book in the Darkblade series, and we were discussing the next project I would be working on. At the time, I was interested in trying my hand at a Warhammer 40,000 novel, but the idea of writing an epic story about Nagash, the lord of the undead, sounded intriguing, and it was no small honour to be considered for the job.

  Lindsey warned me from the start that the story would be a challenging one. Nagash’s rise to power spanned hundreds of years. Just finding a way to divide the tale into three discrete books would be a challenge. But of course I was still giddy with triumph over completing the fifth Darkblade book. Nagash’s story seemed positively straightforward compared to what I’d been working on up to that point.

  It’s possible Lindsey was counting on that. She’s a clever one, she is.

  ‘Sure, sounds like fun,’ I said with a grin. ‘Send me over the background material and I’ll start working on an outline.’

  What I received, a month or so later, were about twenty photocopied pages from the Tomb Kings army book. They included a couple of maps of Nehekhara, a chronology listing the major events in Nagash’s reign of terror and a brief history covering the origins of the undead. That left me with a great deal of creative freedom to portray the land of Nehekhara and its people, as well as the characters who find themselves caught up in Nagash’s evil schemes.

  It was clear to me from the beginning that I couldn’t tell Nagash’s story properly without creating a rich and vibrant backdrop for him to de
spoil. The story of Nagash is also the story of the tragic fall Nehekhara, the first human civilization to life in all its glory and exotic strangeness—all the better to illustrate Nagash’s evil as the land was plunged into darkness. Lindsey was keen on each of Nehekhara’s seven cities having its own distinct character, and so I spent a lot of time working out their history, society, culture, and trade. That helped me shape the personalities of their rulers as well, some of whom became my favourite characters as the trilogy gradually took shape. What was also fun (and occasionally challenging) was going back and revisiting these characters over the course of many decades as the story went on, watching them grow and change in response to the times, then eventually passing the torch on to their descendants after they had died. This becomes especially true in the second and third books, as the focus of the story shifts to distant, exotic Lahmia, because—well, I don’t want to give too much away. Let’s just say that matters of blood and lineage become very important, and leave it at that.

  (One last thing on the subject of age: you will notice over the course of the first book that the Nehekharans live a great deal longer than humans of later epochs. During Nagash’s life, a Nehekharan wasn’t considered fully an adult until he or she reached the age fifty, and was still considered in the prime of life at the age of eighty. A healthy Nehekharan could expect to live as long as 150 years, and in ancient times were said to have lived even longer. I chose to extend the Nehekharans’ lifespan for two reasons: firstly, because the books covered so much time—decade, or even centuries between chapters, in some cases—I needed my characters to live a lot longer, or else I’d have to invent new ones every hundred pages or so. Also, the idea of a longer lifespan added to the legendary aura of lost Nehekhara, so the choice seemed appropriate.)

  The natural consequence of all this world-building was that I actually had to find a way to fit all those details into the limited number of words I was allotted for each book. How did I manage? Simple, really: I produced two of the largest paperback novels that Black Library had ever published. (The second book of the trilogy is smaller than the first and third, for a number of complicated reasons.) Even then, I had to leave an awful lot in order to make the rest fit. The result is a huge, sprawling story of ambition, greed, treachery, horror, war, magic, love—and even a little heroism thrown in for good measure It was by far the hardest thing I’ve ever written (and I know I say that every time I complete a book, bit I really mean it this time), and I hope you enjoy it.

  Before I leave you to it, a few tips that might make your reading experience easier. As I said before, the story covers a lot of time—about six hundred years, give or take—and the scope is vast, so the chapters jump around a lot. Pay close attention to the header of each chapter, which will give you the location and date that the action occurs. When I was developing the Nehekharan culture, I came up with this complicated calendar system based on their gods, which I thought was very cool and utterly appropriate, but can also be really hard to follow. When in doubt, refer to the Imperial date listed in parentheses to get an idea of how much time has passed between chapters. Also, each book has a cast of dozens to keep track of, and the names can sometimes be difficult to tell apart. My apologies. There is a cast of characters provided for each story to help keep things straight. You may find yourself referring to it early and often, until you get a good grip on who’s who.

  Finally, a quick thanks to the editors who tirelessly, fearlessly, and very, very patiently supported me through the two years I spent working on these books. Lindsey Priestley and Nick Kyme went far above and beyond the call of duty to make these books a reality, and I owe them both a great debt.

  Mike Lee Nashville,

  Tennessee

  January 2012

  NAGASH THE SORCERER

  BOOK ONE

  ONE

  A Prayer Before Battle

  The Oasis of Zedri, in the 62nd year of Qu’aph the Cunning

  (-1750 Imperial Reckoning)

  Akhmen-hotep, Beloved of the Gods, Priest King of Ka-Sabar and Lord of the Brittle Peaks, woke among his concubines in the hours before dawn and listened to the faint sounds of the great army that surrounded him. Sounds carried far in the desert stillness; he could hear the distant lowing of the oxen as the priests moved among the herds, and the whickering of the horses in their corral at the far side of the oasis. From the north came the reassuring tinkle of silver bells and the ringing of brass cymbals as the young acolytes of Neru walked the perimeter of the camp and kept the hungry spirits of the desert at bay.

  The priest king breathed deeply of the perfumed air, filling his lungs with the sacred incense smouldering in the tent’s three small braziers. His mind was clear and his spirit untroubled, which he took to be a good omen on the verge of such a momentous battle. The chill of the desert night felt good against his skin.

  Moving carefully, Akhmen-hotep disentangled himself from the arms of his women and slid from beneath the weight of the sleeping furs. He sank to his knees before the polished brass idol at the head of the bed and bowed before it, thanking the shedu for guarding his soul while he slept. The priest king dipped a fingertip in the small bowl of frankincense at the foot of the idol and anointed the brow of the stern, winged bull. The idol seemed to shimmer in the faint light as the spirit within accepted the offering, and the cycle of obligation came full circle.

  There was a scratching at the heavy linen covering the entrance to the chamber. Menukhet, favoured servant to the priest king, crawled inside and pressed his forehead to the sandy floor. The old man wore a white linen kilt and fine leather sandals whose wrappings rose almost to his knees. A broad leather belt circled his waist, and a leather headband set with semiprecious stones sat upon his wrinkled brow. He’d wrapped a short woollen cape around his narrow shoulders to keep the cold from his bones.

  “The blessings of the gods be upon you, great one,” the servant whispered. “Your generals, Suseb and Pakh-amn, await you without. What is your wish?”

  Akhmen-hotep raised his muscular arms over his head and stretched until his hands brushed the tent’s ceiling. Like all the people of Ka-Sabar, he was a giant, standing almost seven feet tall. At eighty-four he was in the prime of his life, still lean and strong despite the luxuries of the royal palace. His broad shoulders and the flat planes of his face bore the scars of many battles, each one an offering to Geheb, God of the Earth and Giver of Strength. The Priest Kings of Ka-Sabar had long been accounted as fearsome warriors and leaders of men, and Akhmen-hotep was a true son of the city’s patron deity.

  “Bring me my raiment of war,” he commanded, “and let my generals attend upon me.”

  The favoured slave bowed his shaved head once more and withdrew. Within moments, half a dozen body slaves entered the chamber, bearing wooden chests and a cedar stool for the king to sit upon. Like Menukhet, the slaves were clad in linen kilts and sandals, but their heads were covered by hekh’em, the fine ceremonial veils that kept the unworthy from viewing the priest king in all his glory.

  The slaves worked swiftly and silently, preparing their master for war. More incense was cast upon the coals, and wine was offered to Akhmen-hotep in a golden cup. As he drank, nimble hands cleaned and oiled his skin, and bound his short beard into a queue with braided strips of glossy leather. They dressed him in a pleated kilt of the finest white linen, placed red leather sandals upon his feet, and set around his waist a belt formed of plates of hammered gold, inlaid with lapis lazuli. Wide gold bracelets, inscribed with the blessings of Geheb, were pressed around his wrists, and a bronze helmet crowned with a snarling lion was set upon his shaven head. Then a pair of older slaves placed his armour of woven leather bands around his powerful torso, and a broad necklace of gold, inlaid with glyphs of protection against arrow and sword, around his neck.