Bellathonis had achieved the rank of master haemonculus in the Black Descent, and so he knew a handful of safe routes through the maze to a few specified interstices. These were mere meeting points where he could possibly find and consult with others of the coven. Only his superiors –those positioned ‘lower’ than himself within the Black Descent – knew the paths to the most important vaults and laboratories, the personal quarters of the coven leaders and the innermost sanctums. Thus, when Bellathonis entered the labyrinth on this occasion he began to perform the five hundred and twenty-seven steps required to reach the ninth interstices, the Chamber of Attenuation.
The master haemonculus concentrated carefully as he moved through a complex pattern: forward, back and side to side. He passed through innocent-seeming corridors of rough stone and areas which were pitch dark even to his altered eyesight. A single misstep in the labyrinth was liable to plunge him into the guts of a gravity trap or straight through an almost invisible monofilament web. The variety and lethality of the labyrinth’s traps was dizzying. Blood wasp nests and mutagenic acid sprays were behind the walls, agoniser wings lurked overhead and semi-sentient venom clouds lay in wait, spread a molecule thick over the walls.
Unaccustomed sweat beaded Bellathonis’s pallid face as he counted his way through convolutions as complicated as dance-steps. Deep down, he just knew that he had passed within a few paces of the ninth interstices a dozen times by now, but that his rank precluded him knowing the most direct routes. He finally emerged from the circuitous routes he had followed into an oblong chamber with an arched ceiling. Along each wall, pillars of glossy metal separated darkened archways identical to the one from which he had just entered. The chamber was bare except for a large silver gong and striker hanging in its center. Bellathonis stepped over to the gong and lifted the striker to ring it three times. Then he waited.
By being obedient and diligent, Bellathonis could eventually expect to descend to the rank of secret master, and then hidden master. Within a century or two more of faithful service, and making the correct friends, Bellathonis might eventually progress to the rank of intimate secretary and be placed in a position to directly serve someone with real power in the coven. In another millennia he might become worthy of consideration as a master elect of nine and wield just a little of that power for himself. In a lifetime, in fact probably over several lifetimes, it might be possible to descend as far as patriarch noctis, an office so far down in the Black Descent that it was ruled in turn by ranks that were completely unknown to a mere master like Bellathonis.
After several minutes a figure wearing viridian robes of an intimate secretary appeared through an archway on the far side of the chamber. The secretary grimaced at the sight of Bellathonis, contempt etching his sharp features.
‘You over-indulge yourself,’ the intimate secretary spat. ‘Three strikes are only made for matters of import.’
‘I have a matter of great import to discuss – in fact, one that exceeds your authority,’ Bellathonis replied evenly. ‘So run along and fetch the master elect like a good secretary.’
The intimate secretary shot Bellathonis a look that was pure poison before he turned and retreated through a different archway. As soon as the secretary had gone, Bellathonis discreetly slipped a small vial into his palm and loosened its stopper between his thumb and forefinger. The results made the master haemonculus blink rapidly in response as he hid away the vial again. He was struck by a sudden fear that the master elect would come upon him so evidently discomfited and did all he could to ignore his smarting eyes until the effect subsided a few minutes later. He needn’t have worried as the better part of an hour dragged by with no sign of the master elect. Bellathonis began to fear that the secretary would return with only a flat refusal if he troubled to return at all.
‘Matters of import,’ a new voice said without preamble. It was horrible voice, one with a tenor akin to the screech of bonesaws and shriek of drills as it dissected each word. Bellathonis knew it to be the voice of the master elect of nine. He looked about and noticed a deeper darkness that had appeared in another of the archways – a shadowy occlusion field that was hiding the master elect from even Bellathonis’s altered vision.
‘master elect,’ Bellathonis bowed smoothly to the formless shadow. ‘I have come to the coven bearing word from the august Archon Malixian on a matter of import.’ The master haemonculus stepped back a little as he bowed as though in deference to the master elect’s authority. In fact, he needed the master elect to enter the chamber fully.
The shadow remained where it was. ‘Malixian, mad archon of the Aviaries and now your patron also,’ the dreadful voice grated. ‘Unfortunate for you to be driven into his arms by disputes in the Lower Courts.’
‘“Unfortunate” is a term barely sufficient,’ Bellathonis snapped. ‘I was assiduous about supporting all of the petty archons equally and without favour. Some of the fools still took it upon themselves to burn my workshop and kill my servants.’
‘Yet you only return to the Black Descent after finding patronage in the satellite realms without reference to the coven’s desires. This could be seen as a disrespectful act.’
‘Or an independent one,’ Bellathonis replied petulantly. ‘I’ve told you before that I need no help from the coven to find patronage for my art.’
The shadow swept forward a pace. ‘And yet here you return for new purpose. So speak it.’
Bellathonis squirmed internally. The master elect was absolutely correct that he had only returned because he needed something from the coven. This was the point of decision, he had to persuade the master elect to do what was necessary or else return to Malixian empty-handed. At best that would mean Bellathonis being evicted from his new home. Other possibilities included ending his life in the gizzard of some exotic predatory avian.
‘It has come to Archon Malixian’s attention that the Patriarch Noctis Zykleiades has come into possession of an extremely rare and unusual flying creature. As Malixian’s passions are well known, it should come as no surprise that he wishes to add this creature to his collection.’ Bellathonis paused, his mouth dry. The roiling shadow that obscured the master elect remained silent.
‘And so Malixian has asked me to present his offer directly to the patriarch noctis so that a price may be arranged.’
‘Impossible,’ the master elect grated, ‘the patriarch will not see you. He will not haggle like a slave over his possessions. Least of all will he surrender a prize so difficult to find as the one to which you are alluding. Return to Malixian and inform him of this.’
Bellathonis sighed, his hopes dashed. ‘Then I fear my patronage from Malixian will be at an end. The archon was most insistent that I must at least gain Zykleiades’s ear and ensure the offer was presented to him. I will lose my new facilities in the Aviaries and be left wandering the streets of Metzuh.’
‘A presence in the Aviaries has some small value to the coven,’ the master elect ruminated after a long pause. ‘You may tell Malixian that his offer will be conveyed to the patriarch noctis. There is still no doubt that it will be rejected.’
‘My gratitude, master elect, for that small mercy. I will return and let Archon Malixian know what has transpired.’ Bellathonis started backing away towards the arch he had used to enter the chamber.
‘One matter remains,’ the master elect said, his words stopping Bellathonis in his tracks. ‘You will be assigned a secret master to join you in the Aviaries and oversee your work. You have been granted an excessive amount of latitude for too long.’
‘As you command, master elect.’ Bellathonis bowed, but the master elect was already gone.
Bellathonis waited for a dozen heartbeats before crossing the chamber to the archway the master elect had used. After pausing for a moment longer, the master haemonculus took a deep breath and plunged through it.
Bellathonis felt a thrilling mix of fear and ex
citement as he entered part of the labyrinth he had never been into before. Unsurprisingly, the walls, the flagstones and the feel of oppressive darkness were virtually identical. A simple, straight corridor led away into shadows, but Bellathonis had no doubt that it held devices every bit as deadly as those he had already passed. The master haemonculus examined the scene minutely while he allowed his eyes to adjust to the gloom. Before him, a faint luminescence began to resolve itself, a wispy trail hanging in the air that zigged and zagged its way down the corridor. The master haemonculus smiled triumphantly and began to follow the trail that had been unwittingly left behind by the master elect.
The trail was being created by some very special microbes Bellathonis had released into the Chamber of Attenuation. He had modified the tiny creatures to excrete light of a very specific wavelength whenever they were moved, specifically light of a wavelength that was invisible to the naked eye but visible to his own altered sight. Bellathonis’s initial dispersal of the microbes in the chamber had almost blinded him at first. Once the master elect had entered the chamber he became contaminated by tiny traitors that revealed his every move – but only if you knew how to look for it.
The threads of light drew Bellathonis deeper into the labyrinth. It was an insanely risky plan. The master elect might not go straight to the patriarch noctis; Bellathonis could lose the trail and become stranded in the trap-filled darkness; he might encounter another member of the Black Descent who was well aware that Bellathonis had no right to be so far into the labyrinth. Even if the master elect went directly to the patriarch noctis, there was no guarantee Bellathonis would find the creature Malixian wanted in the same location, nor that he could secure it if he did.
A reckless smile played around the master haemonculus’s thin lips as he continued following the trail. He had decided that the labyrinthine nature of the Black Descent’s territory was entirely symptomatic of the coven as a whole. The coven was so obsessed with secrecy and obfuscation that its members spent all their time traversing mazes of their own creation. Preservation of the status quo appeared to be the only real goal. All the secretive ranks and rituals were merely methods to turn the coven’s membership into pliant servants.
The Black Descent had proved too stratified, too oblique and too conservative for Bellathonis’s tastes. He had long craved to break away from the coven completely and Archon Malixian had unwittingly supplied exactly the impetus that Bellathonis had needed. A theft from a patriarch noctis’s collection deep inside the coven’s supposedly impenetrable labyrinth would be a fitting final gesture.
The light trail crossed five corridor junctions before it abruptly came to an end. Bellathonis froze as a sense of dread gripped him. The master elect could have discovered the contamination on his person or some invisible barrier might have registered the tiny creatures as invaders and destroyed them automatically. Whatever had occurred, the trail was broken from this point forward and it would be suicide to proceed. He would have to turn back.
As Bellathonis gazed dolefully at the area where the trail ceased he noticed something unusual. A few wan smears of luminescence clung to the wall at shoulder height. On instinct, Bellathonis reached out and placed his fingertips against the dimly glowing patches. The corridor wall split open beneath his touch.
The stone peeled back smoothly and silently to reveal a short corridor beyond. Bellathonis’s pulse quickened when he saw that this corridor was both broader and lower than the ones he was accustomed to seeing throughout the rest of the labyrinth. The hazy trail of light was visible again now moving arrow-straight along the corridor and through an archway at the end of it. From beyond the arch Bellathonis caught the grating tones of the master elect’s voice moving further away. He smirked to hear the deferential undertone in the master elect’s usual cacophony; the patriarch noctis must be with him.
The voice of the master elect dwindled away and vanished entirely. Bellathonis stalked forward noiselessly on the balls of his feet to the archway. He hid behind it and peeped cautiously through into the area beyond. The way led into a series of wide, low rooms interconnected with another via more archways and short flights of steps. Rich furnishings were apparent throughout the chambers: there were spindly-looking chairs and tables of metal and carved bone, hide-bound books and alchemical apparatus gleamed on shelves, mosaics of dark gems glittered from the walls, rich furs and exotic skins covered the floors.
The master elect’s trail led away to the left, but Bellathonis broke from following it to investigate the rooms further. He was sure that he had now entered the hidden chambers of the patriarch noctis, presumably his reception rooms or audience chambers. No guards or slaves were to be seen anywhere. No doubt the patriarch regarded them as unnecessary inside his inviolable sanctum and an undesirable security risk. Bellathonis chuckled at the thought. He mounted some steps and stopped dead at what he saw.
The room was octagonal with entryways on three other sides. The remaining four walls were decorated with displays of crude-looking weapons and armour that had the look of artefacts made by the slave races. Bellathonis’s attention was instantly drawn to what lay in the centre of the room. A hip-high plinth supported a cage that was roughly the size and shape of a torso. Inside the cage and completely restrained by its close-set bars was a bird-like creature of a type the master haemonculus had never seen before.
The creature had golden feathers that seemed to glow with an inner light. Wicked claws, as white as alabaster, gripped the perch beneath it. Most intriguingly of all, it had two raptor-like heads that were each blinded in one eye. The remaining black, beady eye in both heads regarded him with fierce intelligence. Even Bellathonis, psychically blunted as he was, could feel the faint fever-heat of psychic power radiating from it.
‘Well, you must be the one that Malixian spoke of,’ Bellathonis gloated. ‘An inquisitor’s gene-eagle, no less. He said that barely once in a lifetime does one get separated from its master and captured alive.’
The gene-eagle only hissed in response. When Bellathonis reached out to pick up the cage it snapped its beaks viciously at his fingers. The master haemonculus chuckled again as he plucked up the cage by the ring on its top.
‘Now don’t be like that,’ he admonished. ‘I promise you’ll like Malixian. He’s certainly most anxious to meet you’
As Bellathonis turned to leave, he heard a faint cry, barely more than a whisper, coming from an adjacent room. The master haemonculus became instantly wary and drew a slender, spiral-barrelled pistol from his sleeve. The cry sounded again and Bellathonis’s curiosity got the best of him. He moved to look through the arch to where the sound was emanating from.
The adjacent room was almost identical in layout. Instead of slave-made power hammers and force axes on the walls this room displayed sickles, hooks and saw-edged knives that appeared to be carved from metal-laced bone. The plinth in the centre of the room held an upright circle of light within which was splayed the crucified silhouette of a humanoid. It was from this that the faint cries came.
The humanoid’s flesh was ink-black and seemed to absorb rather than reflect the light. Its features shifted like oil beneath lank, dangling hair as pale as bone. Manacles at wrist and ankle held the prisoner against glowing tubes that made the circle of light. Where the limbs were closest to the light they were smoking slightly as though the light itself was burning them.
‘Free me… or kill me,’ it whispered.
Bellathonis considered for a moment. ‘Why should I do either when it’s quite delectable just to see you suffer?’ the master haemonculus said. ‘I know what you are, mandrake. You’re one of the shadow blood, a scion of Aelindrach. You’re just the kind of slippery semi-corporeal assassin I’m always warning the younglings about.’
The mandrake’s head came up to turn its shifting features toward the sound of Bellathonis’s voice, needle-sharp teeth glittering for a moment. ‘You are an enemy of Zykleiades,’
it whispered. ‘You come as a thief to steal from him. I would kill him for you.’
‘Tempting,’ Bellathonis agreed, ‘but messy. I find that vendettas generate a unique form of energy in the universe, one that is self-sustaining and consumes everything it touches.’
‘I am powerful among my bloodline, a king in the dance of shadows. Where I lead, others will follow. We would end your vendetta before it began.’
Bellathonis shook his head. ‘No, no. Zykleiades being dead would only create a new patriarch noctis. I’ve defeated this one already. I’d rather not see him replaced by an unknown and potentially more competent individual.’
‘Then kill me or I will reveal to your enemy all that I have seen and heard about you,’ the shifting, coal-dark face whispered before it sank down again.
‘I haven’t decided anything yet,’ Bellathonis said, ‘but I really should be moving along soon. Before I do, answer me one question. How did you come to be captured and put on display like this?’
‘I was betrayed by my own brother and lured into a trap of Zykleiades’s making. Now my brother sits upon my throne of skulls in Aelindrach and Zykleiades keeps me alive in order to control him with the threat of my release. Free me, and I will avenge myself on both of the fools!’
‘Here’s a different proposition for you to consider. I free you. You follow me out, ensure I escape the labyrinth successfully and get back to Malixian in one piece to deliver his new pet. After that you do whatever you want – chop off Zykleiades’s head if you want, or your brother’s – whatever makes you feel fulfilled. From time to time in the future I might call upon your help if, it proves agreeable to you to give it for a reasonable price. How does that sound?’
Path of the Dark Eldar Page 67
