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.