by Braden Campbell, Mark Clapham, Ben Counter, Chris Dows, Peter Fehervari, Steve Lyons
Canyons. Harsh rocky outcrops. The distant horizon.
Images of her hunting perspective formed in his retinal display as he mounted his bike and gunned the accelerator. He felt the deep treads of the rear wheel bite into the chasm’s rough surface and set off. If Vengla was his companion, this bike was his most beloved possession.
Every time he mounted the iron steed he felt at home. There was some truth to the saying that Chogorians were born in the saddle; he felt a feeling of absolute freedom and power every time he went out riding. However, there was something unique about this bike. It had served him so well for so long that he found it unthinkable that he would ever replace it. When he had first met his new Deathwatch brothers, he’d had to fight, and fight hard, to keep it. They couldn’t understand his attachment to the dented, scarred machine when better and newer technology was available. When it became clear that Suberei’s usual good humour and bluffly eccentric manner didn’t extend to losing his bike, a compromise was finally reached and the old bike had been given a fearsome weapons upgrade. Such was the state of its once-white livery that the need to paint it black had been questioned.
With a sudden lean to the left, Suberei deftly avoided a massive sheet of rock thrusting up from the ground and sped onto a wide, flat ledge – one of thousands that ran along the jagged walls of Ballestae’s myriad canyons and ravines. This world had been harsh enough before the eldar had invaded, and had continued to provide no comfort or tactical advantage as wave after wave of the xenos battered against the embattled Imperial presence.
But then, when one final assault would have likely engulfed the Imperial forces, the eldar had inexplicably stopped their onslaught and withdrawn deep inside their own territory.
‘That is why Suberei is here – to find out why, and to bring the storm.’
Suberei might have been addressing his eagle, but whether or not she heard he didn’t care. He liked to talk to himself. On more than one occasion fellow battle-brothers had commented on it. He did not care about that either. He was the Living Hurricane, the master of the Chogorian steppes, always first to hunt, and–
A flash of red. Then another. Very fast, closing.
‘Higher. Go higher.’
Again – there. Two vehicles with xenos riders.
Eldar jetbikes. ‘Return. Now.’
Suberei went up a couple of gears, the sudden increase in speed jolting him backwards and bringing the broad front wheel inches off the upwardly angled granite. In front of him was a steep incline leading to an overhang of rock from the mesa running along the top of the sheer canyon wall. Vengla’s commanding view showed that the grav vehicles were heading towards him down the same valley, and the last thing he needed was to be discovered out in the open like this.
He had been travelling constantly for nearly two days, moving as fast as he could across the wide-open spaces, then ducking and dodging through twisting passageways to avoid any long-range patrols. Curiously, there had been none. The reconnaissance pieced together from the single functioning Imperial orbital recon unit had been imprecise, but the impression was of a significant concentration of eldar forces fairly close to this position. Attracting their attention and bringing them down upon him before he’d even managed to discover what was going on was not part of his plan, nor his usual stealthy approach.
Pulling back again on the throttle, he made his mount buck with raw power, vapour streaming from the exhausts as it hurtled up the glassy slope. Suberei leaned forwards, anchoring his weight so the bike could not flip over.
Within seconds he was at the top of the incline and slamming on the brakes, juddering to a stop and cutting the engine with a stab of his thumb. Vengla plummeted past him then arced gracefully back, outer wing feathers and razor-sharp talons outstretched. She dropped onto Suberei’s forearm before taking her usual perch behind his seat. Reaching into a small container to the rear of the bike, Suberei pulled out a lump of meat and tossed it backwards without looking. Vengla snatched it with a darting nod and devoured it gratefully.
Suberei could feel his surroundings whisper through the sole of his boot. The planet, it seemed, talked to him when it chose to.
Dismounting with an easy grace, he slipped onto his chest and inched towards the outcrop’s edge. Luckily, the valley below curved steeply on his left then straightened out for a couple of miles. Far to the right was the huge rock he had dodged to ride this slope. The approaching eldar would likely have to gain altitude when they spotted it, and hopefully they’d be too preoccupied to look up any higher. For a few seconds his blood boiled and his hearts pumped in anticipation of combat, but he suppressed the reaction.
Now was not the time to attack. Now was the time to gather intelligence.
Fine dust began to fall from the huge, sheer rock face dozens of yards opposite, and the cyber-eagle clacked its beak behind him.
‘Still, Vengla. They will pass any time now.’
The dust turned to a mist of stones shaking loose from the walls on both sides, raining down onto Suberei’s armour. He heard the high-pitched whine of the eldar engines, amplified and distorted by the canyon. And suddenly there they were – two, riding at a frantic pace side by side. The closest, slightly smaller in frame than the other, had the better line and nosed ahead on the turn. Despite the angle, Suberei could see the white emblem of the Saim-Hann craftworld painted on the long, sloping fairing, and the flapping pennants fixed to their backs. The markings were not identical – both had subtle variations, signifying that they were from different kin-bands. That in itself was not unusual.
The fact they were both hacking at each other with swords most certainly was.
They passed by Suberei’s position in a flash, the outer rider catching up despite its rear left aileron nearly hitting the rock face. The other took another swipe back at its rival’s gleaming white helmet, but in doing so unbalanced itself momentarily and drifted to the right. This was all the space the larger rider needed to accelerate into, leaving the other with the option of pulling up and away over the rapidly approaching sheet of fallen granite, conceding first place, or colliding headlong into it.
Suberei was incredulous. ‘Are they trying to kill each other?’
As the leader crouched down and flipped the jetbike on its side, it was clear that no thought was being given to the one behind. The larger rider disappeared through the narrow gap, leaving the outmanoeuvred smaller rider banging his fist on the top of his cowling before pulling up sharply. But despite the eldar’s fast reactions, the bottom of one of its stabilising fins snapped off and spun away. Then he, too, disappeared out of sight.
Vengla squawked loudly and flapped her wings as larger rocks and debris fell from the walls above and opposite her master’s position. Realising the danger of the situation, Suberei remounted his bike and headed back down the slope, ducking and dodging the rock falls. Judging the maximum height he could safely jump to the canyon floor, Suberei wheel-spun the bike sharply to the left and launched it into space, ahead of the obstacle the eldar had just passed. The landing was harsh, jolting Suberei from his seat and throwing Vengla violently to one side, but the bike’s suspension absorbed the worst of it. Quickly checking that his shield and weapons were still attached, he flicked the bike one hundred and eighty degrees and gunned the engine.
‘Yes, Vengla – Suberei will follow the route they have taken here.’
Directly behind him, the eagle screeched and wiped its hooked beak across the seat’s ridge.
‘You are correct. They may return this way again. The actions of the xenos scum are… unusual.’
Vengla ruffled her feathers and tightened her grip around the small bar upon which she perched. Protected in the slipstream of Suberei’s power armour, she almost casually took to preening as her master used the deep shadows created by the high canyon walls to hide his progress. While the morsels he provided had kept starvation at bay, her hunger for fresh meat would be growing. Very soon, she would hope to feast.
> Suberei looked down at the auspex built into the controls of his bike and frowned. It still provided less detail than normal vision, and was nowhere near as good as the view Vengla could give him through her superior eyes. He didn’t need the scanner anyway, as Ballestae was beginning to talk to him directly. As the miles and hours passed, hints and suggestions of unseen terrain whispered from the wind’s directional change and the arrangement of rocky layers. As he took a long, broad slope to avoid yet more fallen rock, his thoughts turned back to what he had witnessed.
Replaying the events through his mind, he focussed on different details – the variations in the eldar symbols, the riding techniques they had adopted and, in particular, their ferocity against each other. He knew that it had been more than a race.
‘The xenos were fighting each other, Vengla. But for what?’
In the far distance, Suberei could see evidence of heavy weapons fire on the opposite canyon wall where a rough entrance to the valley had been fashioned. Recognising it from the fractured images the orbital unit had transmitted days ago, Suberei came to a crunching halt and turned off the bike’s engine, surveying the base of the sloping cliff before him. It was a dead end, the barrier wall rising up and backwards out of sight into the darkening sky. He knew that on the other side, nestled in a well-protected valley, were the eldar forces. It wasn’t impregnable by any stretch of the imagination, but the towering granite created a perfect defensive base. Ballestae clearly favoured the xenos’ way of war, but if the Imperium had been lucky enough to land there first, the course of this long and bloody battle might have been quite different.
Suberei saw the shadow a fraction before he heard the howl of a Vyper’s engines.
Heaving his bike into the quickening gloom of the chasm’s floor, he watched the skimmer slow near the base of the incline, its rear gunner turning slowly from left to right before the blood-red machine gathered speed and roared away.
‘Nothing more than a routine patrol,’ Suberei murmured. ‘Suberei will await darkness, then go hunting.’
Finding some excellent cover underneath a pile of fallen boulders, he cleaned his weapons as Vengla attended to her feathers. Once night began to close in, Suberei looked towards the purple darkness of the slope.
‘Blades or bolts, Vengla?’
The cyber-eagle clicked her beak and cocked her head quizzically at the question.
‘Suberei agrees. Blades it is.’
Suberei reached to the rear of his bike and retrieved his power sword and shorter duelling kindjal from its ceremonial animal-skin sheath. Examining both curved blades in the fading light, he nodded to himself with satisfaction. Vengla opened up her wings and stretched, waiting for Suberei to extend his arm, but he shook his head.
‘No, I think not. You must stay here and guard the steed.’
Ignoring her indignant wing flapping, Suberei flicked the kindjal around in a couple of rapid circles, delighting in its perfect balance.
Now he was ready.
By day, Ballestae’s twin suns beat down onto its desolate surface, scorching what passed for flora and burning any living creature exposed to their harsh rays. The night offered no better comfort, the thin atmosphere and lack of cloud plunging the temperatures well below freezing. As far as finding cover on this inhospitable world went, crawling up an ebony cliff face in black armour was about as good as it got.
Occasional Vypers soared overhead, and while it was difficult to find foot and hand holds on the near-vertical slope, when he stopped moving he blended in with his surroundings perfectly. The only real problem was maintaining grip. The night brought with it frost and ice, making progress slow and precarious. An occasional slip and loss of a few yards was a trade-off he was willing to make, as long as he didn’t start a rockslide that might give away his position. That had been the main reason he’d not brought the eagle with him – if she had to take flight to save herself, she might attract attention.
As the sky brightened with an artificial glow in front of him, he was even more convinced that he’d done the right thing. All he could do was hope the ridge he was crawling towards was nothing more than a silhouette to the enemy.
The view that finally met him was extraordinary. A few hundred yards below, virtually every part of the rough valley was covered with elaborate temporary structures, grav-machine tethers and floodlit open workshops nestled in between. Clusters of ornate scarlet dwellings and lines of jetbikes stretched at least two miles into the distance, penned in by near-vertical cliffs on every side. Any gaps between the enormous walls were heavily guarded, but as Suberei scrutinised the mass of red bodies moving around, he realised that this was not, in fact, a single eldar encampment.
They were all Saim-Hann, of that he was certain, but the differing pennants and banners flapping from half a dozen satellite camps suggested this was an assembly of disparate kin-bands.
He found it curious that there was very little movement between the sectors. The xenos seemed to be keeping to their own boundaries, and even the sentries standing at the jagged entrances to the valley were subtly different in appearance and deployment. His eyes fell upon a large, steeply raked rectangular arena directly below his position. Even though it was in near-darkness and deserted save for a few eldar attending its outer structure, the position and enormous size was significant. He considered that it might be there to serve as neutral ground. However, its exact purpose eluded him.
There was no unity here. They had surely all arrived on Ballestae together but, unlike the Deathwatch he proudly served, these aliens did not move as one.
The way the outer camps had clear avenues between them suggested a deliberate attempt to remain separated, and his Chogorian sensibilities picked up a deep unease. As if to confirm this, his attention was drawn to the assembling of several dozen eldar from facing camps in the middle distance. It was difficult to make out details this far away, but he didn’t need to – the body language of the opposing factions was becoming increasingly belligerent, and when blades appeared from nowhere, they were brandished with clear intent. Within seconds, the straggled front lines were joined by dozens on either side, the ensuing jostling and pushing narrowing the gap between their camps. Just as it looked as if they might come to blows, several elaborately dressed eldar moved swiftly into the middle of the pack, wielding their ceremonial spears in a flurry of robes and outstretched warning hands.
At first it appeared that the two groups would back down, but the pushing continued until the stand-off erupted.
The brawl would likely have continued long into the night had the sky not been lit with a brilliant display of power by the tallest of the eldar warlocks. Suberei watched as the factions shuffled back hesitantly from one another, leaving several armoured bodies lying prone on the ground to be tended by their kin. The leader, resplendent in black robes and red glowing jewels, pointed towards the dimly lit arena.
An audible roar went up not only from the two conflicting kin-bands but the entire valley, as the other camps had gathered to watch the outcome. Lights burst into brilliance around the arena, and Suberei ducked out of sight as thousands of eldar stampeded towards the amphitheatre.
He took in a very deep breath and exhaled slowly. It was likely that this was something never before witnessed by an outsider.
A flash of red registered in his peripheral vision, and he flattened himself immediately onto the freezing rock, clutching the edge for anchorage. He didn’t move for long minutes after the patrolling Vyper had turned away, and by the time he looked back down into the valley the arena’s steeply raked platforms had filled to overflowing.
Standing on a central dais facing Suberei’s position, the tallest warlock rose from its seat and pointed slowly to the warriors arrayed on its left, then those opposing them on the right, eliciting more cheers and, Suberei fancied, furious insults from every side of the arena. Banners were waved to show clan affiliation and blades were readied under the harsh lights. Every xenos rose as two single e
ldar strode into the empty floor from opposite entrances. Both were armed with long swords, and both wore no helmet. Having fought several of their number over the last few months, he also recognised the style of their garb.
‘Clan chiefs. Now that is interesting.’
There was no announcement needed, no further ceremony required. The two Saim-Hann ran at each other, swords held high and behind as was their way. With the first clash of blades came a tremendous roar, the audience forgetting their own petty squabbles and focusing instead on the melee unfolding before them. The slightly larger of the two chieftains spun on the ball of his foot and rotated his body to the left, avoiding a slicing downward blow from his opponent. In a split second he countered with an upward arcing slash, but the smaller eldar flipped backwards, the blade glancing off his right shoulder.
The speed was frenetic, the intention clear – to draw blood and to win.
The first whirled his body in a spiral and leaped into the air, but instead of using the height advantage to strike down onto the exposed head of his foe, he instead sliced through the pole carrying the opposing kin-band’s pennant. It fluttered to the floor and, on landing next to it, the triumphant warrior ground it into the dirt with his boot heel.
One side of the arena erupted in fury and, within seconds, a much larger battle was taking place. Eldar fell and jumped from the terraces onto the bare ground below, engulfing the two clan chiefs in a sea of red.
This was not the dignified race that Suberei knew. The scene was one of utter chaos, with non-aligned groups who had come to watch throwing themselves into the fight for good measure. Things were little better outside the arena, where bystanders were enjoying their own contests. In less than a minute, every xenos in the valley was at another’s throat. It was an astonishing sight, breathtaking and exciting in its ferocity.
