by Gav Thorpe
In purely material terms, the expedition had also been a qualified success. They had recovered nearly two hundred waystones, though Maensith had lost sixteen of her warriors to the daemonic attack. Efforts had been made to bring their spirit stones back, but four had been left behind in the final rush for the ships, no doubt to suffer torment in the grasp of the Great Enemy. One of those who had fallen had been a Commorraghan, who had possessed no waystone, his spirit most likely enduring untold tortures at the hands of the daemonettes.
Two Harlequins had perished also, one the Death Jester Taenemeth, and for some reason the loss of these warrior-dancers struck Aradryan as particularly sad, for they had brought joy and awe to him in their performance and would never dance again. Findelsith was sanguine about the losses, and assured Aradryan that the spirits of the fallen Harlequins were safe, sneaked away from the Great Enemy by the Laughing God they had served and emulated in life.
And there was the loss of Estrathain too, torn asunder by the greater daemon. In a sense, the kami was but a single facet of Estrathain, who would continue to live, but the experience the divided eldar spirit had sought had been lost on the crone world, and all the memory therein, and so while the other kami would endure, they would be lessened by the loss.
To think about those who had not survived was perversely encouraging to Aradryan. It reinforced his belief that the manner of one’s death was unimportant, it was the life that one led beforehand that was defining; not to others but to he who was living the life. All things passed, even the greatest and longest legacies would eventually fail and be forgotten. Aradryan thought of what Maensith had said about regrets, and realised that despite the horror and death and his misgivings before setting out, he did not regret the adventure. He had survived and the experience had enriched his life; if he had died it would no longer matter as he would be in no position to be aware of the loss.
After breaking back into the webway, the Harlequins took their leave of the Fae Taeruth. Lechthennian had chosen to go with them, and so the outcasts of the Irdiris gathered on the launch deck to say goodbye to their companion. Lechthennian was dressed in his normal travelling clothes, his Harlequin suit and mask concealed once more amongst his belongings. The musician seemed happy, and when he had been questioned on the fight with the Decadent Lord he had simply shrugged and laughed away the encounter.
‘You could stay with us,’ said Athelennil, holding a hand to Lechthennian’s chest in a sign of deep friendship. ‘Irdiris is your home.’
‘It is not the nature of the Solitaire to have a home,’ Lechthennian replied, patting the ranger on her shoulder. ‘I shall spend some time with Findelsith’s troupe, and we shall perhaps go to Ulthwé to perform the Dance without End, for it is the first and perhaps only time Findelsith will have a Solitaire in his masque.’
Aradryan felt his skin crawl at the thought of watching the Dance without End. He had only heard and read about it, for not in his lifetime had a Solitaire travelled to Alaitoc to perform the dance – at least not to Aradryan’s knowledge, for now that he had seen the way that Lechthennian had kept his true identity hidden, the ranger wondered if any of the other eldar he had met or known were Solitaires in disguise. The performance in Khai-dazaar, as shocking and disturbing as it had been, was only an overture, a preamble to the true Dance without End, in which the Great Harlequin took the role of the Laughing God and the Solitaire played the part of She Who Thirsts.
‘We could meet you again in Khai-dazaar,’ suggested Caolein. ‘Irdiris is not the same without Lechthennian.’
‘Lechthennian will be no more, when I set foot from this ship,’ said the Solitaire. ‘I am the Laughing God and I am the Great Enemy, and I travel where fate wills me. My true persona cannot be known, for I would become a lodestone of temptation, luring those around me to share my dark fate. Irdiris will find new stories to tell.’
Aradryan had not known the musician as long as the others and so did not feel quite the sense of loss that they did, though he was aware that Lechthennian’s departure did represent something of the end of an era for the ship.
‘Thank you, for your wisdom and protection,’ said Aradryan, raising a hand in appreciation. Lechthennian nodded in acknowledgement but did not smile. He leaned close and whispered so that only Aradryan could hear.
‘Each of us dances to the tune he hears, played out in our hopes, ambitions and fears. Some of us are bold, some of us meek, where one sees strength, another seems weak. Whether you fight or whether you run, She Who Thirsts calls out the beat of the drum.’
With that perplexing riddle delivered, Lechthennian stepped away, bowed with a sweeping arm and trotted up the winding boarding gantry to the door of the Harlequin’s starship. He turned at the last moment and something silver flashed in the air, spinning down from the Solitaire. By instinct, Aradryan caught it: the silver thumb whistle. By the time he looked back to say thank you, Lechthennian was gone from sight and the door of the ship was closing fast.
Maensith came to Aradryan after a few days of the Fae Taeruth being back in the webway proper. She was her relaxed, playful self again, in stark contrast to the state in which she had been during the descent into the crone worlds. Though her words were as teasing as ever, her actions were more forthright than before the expedition, and Aradryan found himself a guest in her chambers often over the coming cycles. After one such liaison he came across Athelennil, who gave him a look of disdain but made no outright accusation. It was easy to attribute her behaviour to jealousy, and Athelennil’s mood was probably all the more depressed following the departure of Lechthennian, so Aradryan ignored the slight and left his former lover in the companionway aft of the officer’s quarters.
Ten cycles from Khai-dazaar, Maensith had the Fae Taeruth break into realspace, exiting from the webway via an oval portal of shimmering white. They had entered a star system called Assain-alei-Nemech, which was on the rim of a swirling nebula that Maensith referred to as the Lake of Sorrows. Aradryan was with the mercenary commander in the viewing deck when Jair and Athelennil entered, seeking the ship’s captain.
‘Why have we come here?’ asked Jair, who darted a disapproving look towards Aradryan. ‘We should be returning to Khai-dazaar with the waystones.’
‘What is there for us in this place?’ said Athelennil. She looked out of the row of broad windows, seeing a few gas giants orbiting a pale blue star. ‘It looks like a dead system.’
‘If my dallying here delays you, feel free to depart whenever you wish,’ replied Maensith. ‘I am here to add a little extra to the spoils for the markets in Khai-dazaar. You may enjoy the company of outcasts who are willing to share in the burden and cost of ship life, but I have a complement that demand a fair reward for the risk of their lives and labours. The waystones we took, our share of it, are not sufficient compensation for the resources we have expended so far.’
‘Piracy?’ Aradryan had harboured suspicions since he had first come aboard the Fae Taeruth but had not broached the subject with Maensith. She laughed at the shock in his voice.
‘Where do you think all of this pretty finery comes from?’ she asked, her waved hand encapsulating the ornate chairs and couches, low tables and cabinets that furnished the observation deck.
‘I am not so naive as you think,’ said Aradryan, scowling at the flippancy of the answer. ‘I am just surprised that you would bring us here so soon after risking your life in the crone worlds. Would it not be better to recuperate before embarking on more conflict?’
‘We do not have that luxury, my dear Aradryan,’ said Maensith. ‘If we wish to berth at Khai-dazaar, and compensate Estrathain for the loss of his kami, our profits are severely cut. Besides, compared to the company we have been keeping recently, a few haugri-alim will hardly be any threat at all.’
‘The haugri-alim?’ It was Jair who asked the question before Aradryan had the chance. ‘An alien species? Is that what you wish to find here?’
‘More than wish, we will fi
nd them here. In fact, we will not have to wait at all,’ said Maensith. Touching her hand to a plate beneath one of the windows, she magnified the view. The sliding display brought into focus a starship unlike anything Aradryan had seen before – and he realised that seeing sights for the first time was becoming something of a theme since he had become outcast.
The name of the haugri-alim Aradryan guessed to be a play on haugrilim, a race from the oldest myths who had dwelt at the bottom of the seas and were tricked by Eldanesh into revealing the secrets of how to breathe water. Their craft was a simple cylindrical shape, with an outer ring supported by long spars on which its engines were located. Though it was still quite small in the magnified image, Aradryan could see blocky structures arranged in rings around the central superstructure, which he assumed to be weapons of some kind.
‘Their ships pass through this system on nearly every journey,’ explained Maensith. ‘They are gas-dwellers, and have a holy site in the clouds of the world below. It is sort of a pilgrimage, or an homage or something. I do not quite understand it myself, but it makes them terribly predictable and vulnerable.’
‘We will take you up on the offer to depart,’ said Jair. Athelennil nodded her agreement and the two rangers looked at Aradryan expectantly. ‘To be an outcast does not force one to become a corsair.’
‘No, but it makes life a lot more comfortable if you do,’ said Maensith. The ship captain also turned her gaze on Aradryan, an eyebrow lifted in query.
‘This is not a life you will want,’ said Jair, shaking his head sadly.
‘This Commorraghan fascinates you, but there will be sights and experiences of unimaginable beauty and power if you come with us,’ said Athelennil. ‘Do not become a pirate, Aradryan, it is a pointless, repetitive existence.’
Aradryan thought about it for a few moments. There would likely be more safety aboard the Irdiris and, despite recent divisions, he liked Jair and Caolein, and still had fond thoughts for Athelennil. He did not wholly trust Maensith; he did not trust her in the slightest if he was being honest with himself. His new company would be corsairs and Commorraghans, who were not known for their loyalty. It was a life of danger, of strife and fighting, and it was likely to be shorter as a pirate than a ranger. As the latter he could visit Exodite worlds and distant craftworlds, explore alien planets and seek out new experiences.
But would it be worthwhile? Would he have the satisfaction he had felt on their successful escape from the crone worlds. Life on board the Fae Taeruth would be more exciting, the contrast between life and death brought into sharp relief. Aradryan did not feel particularly bloodthirsty, but on the other hand it was battle that had given him his greatest thrill, and nothing else he had ever experienced, no dream or journey, came close to filling him with the same heady mixture of excitement and fear.
‘I do not think I will be as welcome as you say,’ Aradryan told the rangers, an apologetic expression on his face. ‘And I feel that you will be more content without me in your company. That is, if Maensith wishes me to stay.’
‘You are more than welcome to join the crew of the Fae Taeruth,’ said the captain. ‘I will offer you the same deal as everybody else aboard. Stay for a cycle, stay for a thousand, as your heart desires, no onus is placed upon you and no oath binds you to this ship. Fight for me and earn equal share. Protect your companions and they will protect you. I will ask nothing of you that I would not do myself, and if you have any complaint you can bring it to me openly. I spent half of my life in a kabal, watching for the dagger of an ally aimed between my shoulder blades, kicking those beneath me to keep them down whilst reaching up with one hand to grasp the ankles of those who climbed above me. That is not the life I want on the Fae Taeruth.’
‘I shall stay aboard, for a cycle or a thousand,’ said Aradryan. He turned back to Athelennil and Jair. There was sadness on their faces, genuine and deep. Aradryan smiled to lighten the mood of their departure. ‘You look as if you mourn for me, but I am not dead yet. I promise I will see you again, and I owe you a debt that cannot be easily repaid. Athelennil, you took me from Alaitoc and showed me what was possible. Jair, you watched over me when I took those first steps, guiding me away from the structure of the Path into a universe of possibilities. I cannot thank you enough for what you have done, but I hope that it does not seem disloyal of me to seek a future that will allow me to spread my wings ever further.’
‘Take care,’ said Athelennil. Then, taking Aradryan by surprise, she took a few steps and embraced him, pulling him tight to her body. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and squeezed back. When she stepped back, Athelennil glared at Maensith. ‘If you wrong him, I will find you and make you pay, Commorraghan.’
Maensith’s laugh was short and harsh but she said nothing as she strode from the room, leaving Aradryan with his former companions.
‘Good fortune and prosperity,’ Aradryan said to the other rangers, and left them to follow Maensith.
Ghosting close under the mask of its holofields, the Fae Taeruth manoeuvred behind the haugri-alim ship as the alien vessel turned into the gravity well of its destination planet. Maensith had tackled several such targets when she had been a kabalite officer operating out of Commorragh, and she ran her ship with smooth efficiency.
Some rogue scanner flicker or stray sensor return spooked the haugri-alim, and their engines flared into full fury as they tried to run for the safety of the gas giant’s upper atmosphere. Swinging after the fleeing vessel, the stellar sail of the Fae Taeruth catching the full force of the system’s stellar winds to speed them after their quarry, the eldar closed quickly, outpacing their lumbering prey by a considerable margin.
The control deck of the warship was different to that of Lacontiran. On the merchant cruiser there was only a small weapons station, and her scanning array was far less sophisticated. Aradryan and the other pilots had been situated in an isolated compartment high in the ship and communication took place over the psychic network. On the Fae Taeruth, the crew were all located in one large space, subdivided into a rosette of decks surrounding a central command pod; engines, piloting, navigation, weapons, sensors and damage control were all within sight of each other so that Maensith and her officers could monitor the situation with sight and hearing as well as feedback over the internal matrix.
Like the ship she pursued, the majority of the Fae Taeruth’s weapons systems were to port and starboard, with a single high-powered, long-ranged laser turret directed from the bow. Aradryan watched with fascination as Maensith summoned a floating display in front of her, created by glittering projectors located in the floor beneath the command pod. Her left hand rested on a glowing network interface, while the fingers of her right danced across the runes of a projected holo-pad. The main holographic display was centred on the target ship, dark against the swirl of orange and red of the gas giant’s atmosphere. Runes danced across the image, highlighting various systems on the fleeing ship detected by the scanning team. Maensith guided aiming reticules into position; glowing red diamonds flashed as target trajectories and ranges were laid in by the eldar manning the weapons consoles. The ship’s captain provided a narration for the benefit of Aradryan.
‘A ship of this size will be carrying more than a thousand haugri-alim,’ she explained. ‘Coupled with their dense and gravity-heavy artificial environment, that makes it virtually impossible for us to successfully board. This is a fight we must win from a distance.’
‘Why do they not turn and attack?’ asked Aradryan.
‘Instinct, I suppose.’ Maensith shrugged and manipulated the image in front of her, magnifying the view of the vessel’s engine housings. More target runes sprang into life. ‘Some of us are predators and some of us are prey. haugri-alim are the latter.’
Maensith fell silent for a moment, communing across the network with other officers. A few moments later a startling burst of white beams sprang from the bow turret, flashing across the gulf between the ships in an instant. Red energy fl
ared where they struck – defensive shields. Maensith hissed in annoyance.
‘Most of these traders forego shield generators for more hold space,’ she said.
‘Is that a problem?’
‘Not of the kind you are thinking,’ replied Maensith. She made some adjustments to the target matrix, focusing on a jutting piece of superstructure above and forward of the engines. The laser lance fired again. This time the red spark of the shields was less intense and several of the beams broke through, burning into the targeted area of the enemy ship. Clouds of molten metal glittered and the next salvo met no resistance, tearing through the shield mast and the hull around it. Maensith turned with a wry smile. ‘It just means less cargo for us to take.’
With its shields compromised, the haugri-alim ship finally began to turn, trying to bring its weapon batteries to bear on its pursuer. The Fae Taeruth was too swift to be caught so easy, sliding to port as the enemy turned to starboard, staying in the wake of its quarry’s engines. Another flash of laser beams cut through the engines of the desperately turning ship, causing plasma explosions to ripple through the circular section. Crippled, the cylindrical vessel started to spin while fitful plumes of escaping gas caused the ship to yaw back and forth, creating a sporadic spiral of trailing debris.
With her prey crippled, Maensith and the crew guided the Fae Taeruth closer, matching their target’s erratic course as best they could whilst bringing the broadside weapon batteries to bear. Laser and plasma sprayed from the gun decks, converging at three points along the top of the haugri-alim ship, burrowing through armour plate and reinforced bulkheads.
