Path of the Dark Eldar

by Andy Chambers

  The nightfiend shrugged noncommittally at the notion, so Bellathonis tried pushing harder. ‘Whatever we’re hearing doesn’t belong to Xhakoruakh, therefore we can assume that it’s hostile to us!’ the haemonculus hissed. ‘Go back to the king and report. I will proceed to the laboratory with Xagor and the grotesques.’

  The nightfiend shook his head and gestured down the tunnel with his saw-edged falchion for Bellathonis to keep moving. The haemonculus was drawing breath to argue further when he caught a gleam of light from ahead. The nightfiend noticed it, too, and sprang into the shadows. The regular ringing of metal on stone stopped abruptly and was replaced by a thin, high noise rapidly rising in pitch. The mandrakes began flickering forwards from shadow to shadow, their weapons drawn.

  ‘Xagor!’ Bellathonis yelled as he ducked for cover. ‘Get down!’

  A soundless impact rippled through the tunnel as several of the advancing mandrakes were instantaneously wiped from existence. Where they had been a perfectly spherical bite had appeared in the wall and floor, the material displaced out of the reality of Commorragh and sent… elsewhere. Bellathonis recognised it as the distinctive strike of a distortion weapon – a rare type in Commorragh but one with a dire reputation. Heedless, the surviving mandrakes surged forwards to come to grips with their assailants and quickly found themselves outmatched.

  Bellathonis watched in fascination as a pair of Castigators advanced to meet the mandrakes’ rush. He could see at once that they were not purely machines like the Talos pain-engines, but rather housings for a living consciousness. The Castigators’ monomolecular claws pierced the pitch-black mandrakes like lightning bolts while the mandrakes’ own saws and sickles glanced from impervious metal. One of the war machines fired its distortion whip at point-blank range, a brief twist in reality pinching out its enemies so thoroughly that it was as if they had never existed at all. The other Castigator appeared to favour its claw-like blades more and sliced the last mandrake apart with the fluid grace of a knife-limbed dancer.

  Xagor was already disappearing from sight back along the tunnel. Bellathonis realised the nightfiend was still lurking nearby, apparently too worldly-wise to charge forwards and share his minions’ fate. The grotesques were milling around in confusion making big, attractive targets. Bellathonis agonised for a second and then ordered the lumbering flesh-puppets to attack. If they were going to be destroyed they might as well do some good by buying him some time.

  ‘Now we go back and tell Xhakoruakh!’ Bellathonis hissed angrily to the nightfiend.

  The nightfiend nodded rapidly in response.

  Chapter 20

  THE SIXTY-FOURTH INTERSTICE

  Kharbyr watched with trepidation as Yllithian talked to the two haemonculi from the Black Descent. He hadn’t thought that the flesh-sculptors would be willing to give in to Yllithian so easily, but here they were hemmed in by Yllithian’s incubi and ready to sue for peace.

  It meant that his own usefulness to the archon of the White Flames was quite likely at an end. Angevere had been silent since the beginning of the ambush and for once he wished that she’d advise him on what to do. He stole a surreptitious glance at the canister he had slung over his shoulder, half expecting to see it had been pierced by some stray round intended for him. That would be how it would have played out in a story, after all, with the wicked witch unintentionally saving the hero.

  Don’t be so stupid. Anything that hit me would have killed you, too. The psychic shock alone would do it, although a hit from the weapons Yllithian’s troops have been using would likely annihilate us both… I’ve been silent because I’m trying to think of a way out of this. The possibilities have become a lot more complicated. There are new players entering the game.+

  The idea that things had changed was already foremost in Kharbyr’s mind, he didn’t need someone with void-sight to tell him that. Some agreement seemed to be met between Yllithian and the haemonculi. The two of them took up position to lead the vanguard of the White Flames much as Kharbyr had been doing. Yllithian was making his way back through the trueborn warriors, but he stopped beside Kharbyr and looked at him speculatively.

  ‘They might still try to betray you,’ Kharbyr said, ‘and you’ll still need me to get out of the labyrinth afterwards. You can’t trust them and your idea for getting out sounded a bit… drastic.’

  Yllithian favoured him with a wintry smile before replying, ‘Of course it did, Bellathonis, threats don’t work if they seem mild and easily borne. You needn’t worry. I’m not about to put my trust in the Black Descent and start narrowing my options. Stay at my side for a while, there’s no need for you to keep leading us through the traps – although I believe that was really Angevere doing the work all along.’

  Say nothing!+ Angevere hissed in Kharbyr’s mind. It was almost reassuring to find her back on form.

  The column of trueborn started to move along the corridor in the direction it had been heading. It stop-started every few paces as the warriors wove through the corpses and cratered stonework created by the battle. They went only a short distance before the haemonculi turned to lead them down a side passage where they all kept resolutely to the left-hand wall. Here they reached an archway and the haemonculi halted.

  ‘All right, come along, Bellathonis,’ Yllithian said as he made his way forwards again, ‘I want you close at hand for this.’

  Go with him,+ Angevere ordered. +Don’t be shocked by what you see beyond that arch.+

  Kharbyr furrowed his brow. If Angevere’s warning was intended to set him at ease it was a colossal failure; instead he now felt more thoroughly unsettled than he was already. The two haemonculi standing by the arch watched him approaching beside Yllithian with ill-concealed contempt on their faces. The one in green-and-black robes looked ready to tear Kharbyr’s throat out with his teeth if he got a chance. The hatchet-faced one with flat, black crystals for eyes looked less vitriolic but far more dangerous.

  The one in viridian and black is an intimate secretary, the other in the slate-grey robes is a master elect of nine. Bellathonis knew the master elect personally, or at least had dealings with him. His name is Ekarynis. They are both mid-level functionaries, servants of the patriarch noctis. It seems the Black Descent’s leadership choose not to expose themselves to risk.+

  ‘The sixty-fourth interstice lies beyond this arch,’ the hatchet-faced master elect announced in a voice that seemed to scrape rusty knives across Kharbyr’s eardrums. ‘The chamber is not large enough to hold your entire force, or even a substantial fraction of it – we must proceed with only a handful.’

  ‘Go ahead, Bellathonis,’ Yllithian murmured, ‘I’ll be right behind you.’

  Do as he says.+

  Kharbyr felt an uncharacteristic weakness at the knees. He was no coward, he’d seen plenty, he’d seen Shaa-Dom and the broken World Shrine at Lileathanir… yet whatever lay beyond the arch evoked a wave of unreasoning dread in him. He had to force his legs to move, and even then it felt as if lead weights had been attached to his feet. The two Black Descent haemonculi glanced at each other and then passed through the archway. Taking a deep breath Kharbyr plunged after them.

  The place they’d called the sixty-fourth interstice was a pentagonal room with an arch entering it through each wall. As Kharbyr stepped inside he could feel the rage inside the chamber like a red miasma clinging to the walls and hanging in the air. A sense of unrelenting fury pounded on his subconscious like an inaudible scream. Kharbyr gasped and almost stumbled.

  By the gods, she’s angry,+ Angevere hissed into his mind. The sibilant mind-voice of the witch was almost lost behind the roiling emotion saturating Kharbyr’s consciousness.

  A glass-fronted sarcophagus stood upright in the exact centre of the chamber. A blood-red mist swirled behind the glass rendering its contents invisible. Five thick chains of dark metal were wrapped around the sarcophagus and connected to rings se
t into the floor, forming a pentacle around it. The precautions seemed extreme in view of the sturdy construction of the sarcophagus itself; a heavy, ugly lump of ochre-coloured stone crudely shaped like a person.

  An incubus appeared at Kharbyr’s elbow having silently followed him through the arch. The incubus’s blank-faced helm scanned around the chamber before it turned and left. A moment later, much to Kharbyr’s relief, it returned in the company of its brethren and Yllithian. The archon took in the scene before him and cocked his head at the wash of raw hatred in the room. He looked over to Kharbyr and spoke, his voice sounding loud and unwelcome in the emotion-soaked chamber.

  ‘They tell me that Xelian is within that sarcophagus. They also tell me that they have been keeping her on the knife’s edge between life and death, all the while attempting to prevent her full resurrection.’

  ‘Why?’ Kharbyr asked incredulously.

  Yllithian shrugged, ‘They won’t say. My thought is that El’Uriaq engaged the Black Descent to keep Xelian available but inactive while he used Aez’ashya to take control of the Blades of Desire. Doubtless if things didn’t work out he planned to substitute Xelian as his cat’s-paw if necessary.’

  Entirely likely. El’Uriaq was never one to waste raw materials he could later re-forge to fulfil his needs.+

  ‘That sounds like something El’Uriaq would do,’ Kharbyr repeated distractedly, ‘but… it feels almost like daemons have been loose in here, all that rage…’

  ‘Since I can safely assume you’re telling me what Angevere thinks that means I’m right in my assumption, which is most gratifying,’ Yllithian said with insufferable smugness.

  One of the haemonculi, the hatchet-faced master elect with the nerve-shredding voice, interrupted by speaking directly to Kharbyr for the first time. ‘The psychic taint present in the chamber developed prior to the impact of the Dysjunction that you initiated. It is understood that the subject’s close association with the event enabled it to draw upon its incipient energy as it approached.’

  ‘None of that matters now,’ Yllithian snapped impatiently. ‘Release Xelian immediately. Your custody of her is at an end.’

  The master elect stepped back and gestured to the sarcophagus. ‘The subject is yours for the taking. Simply loosen the chains and Xelian will be free to rejoin you.’ Yllithian looked over at Kharbyr expectantly.

  If you value your life do not touch those chains.+

  ‘Loosen them yourself,’ Kharbyr told the haemonculus. ‘The archon told you to release her, not me.’

  Yllithian’s dark, calculating eyes snapped back onto the hatchet-faced master elect. ‘Do as Bellathonis says,’ Yllithian ordered, ‘or our agreement becomes null and void.’

  The incubi took a step forwards to underline Yllithian’s threat. The master elect looked at his compatriot significantly and spoke one word.

  ‘Obey.’

  The other haemonculus in green and black looked ready to argue. His green-tinted lips writhed as he tried to keep his outrage in check. The flat, crystalline gaze of the master elect bored into his face and the outrage melted away into fear and resignation. The intimate secretary’s shoulders slumped and he moved to the ring bolt securing the closest chain, where he hesitated again.

  ‘Do it,’ the hatchet-faced haemonculus ordered in a voice that cut like a bone-saw.

  The intimate secretary flinched and leaned down to release the first chain. He glanced across nervously at the crudely shaped sarcophagus, but there was no visible response. Kharbyr released a breath he had been unconsciously holding. Moving quickly now the intimate secretary rushed to a second ring, bent and loosened that chain also. He hurried over to the third ring…

  Before he could reach it the glass front of the sarcophagus shattered. A hate-filled shriek assailed the minds of all present in the chamber. Through half-blinded eyes Kharbyr saw a hideous, blood-slick apparition leap out of the sarcophagus. It landed on the haemonculus’s back and tore at his throat. The doomed haemonculus screamed and flailed helplessly as he was pushed down and mercilessly savaged. Yllithian’s incubi moved forwards with their klaives at the ready.

  ‘Stand back!’ Yllithian commanded.

  The creature had the appearance of something that had been flayed. Thick ropes of meat-red muscle and glistening yellow cartilage were visible on its crooked limbs. It tore at its prey with hooked claws and monstrous strength. It began pulling forth dripping organs to display in front of the haemonculus’s horrified gaze before greedily devouring them one by one. It took his eyes last of all.

  The haemonculus’s thrashing subsided and his heels slowly stopped drumming on the stone floor. As the crouching monster feasted noisily on the remains it seemed to be changing before their eyes. Smooth skin now clothed the flayed musculature like a taut silk sheet, its crooked limbs straightened to become full and shapely, long, lustrous dark hair hung down over its face as it continued to slake its terrible thirst.

  ‘Xelian,’ Yllithian said distinctly. The creature paused and turned blazing eyes towards him. It flicked back its hair and wiped the back of one long-fingered hand across its mouth.

  ‘Yllithian,’ it replied in a low, feral growl, ‘so much the gallant prince that he comes to save me. You must have been truly smitten by my beauty.’

  Xelian stood up and despite the gore slicking her limbs she was indeed beautiful, youthful and bewitching in her nakedness. Feeding on the haemonculus’s pain as his life was ripped from him had allowed her to renew herself fully – at least for the present. She tossed back her mane of raven hair again and laughed lustily.

  ‘I’ve been waiting in breathless anticipation for release, my sweet prince, what took you so long?’

  ‘You weren’t easy to find,’ Yllithian smiled back. ‘The Black Descent kept your sarcophagus hidden from me.’

  Xelian locked her still-hungry gaze with Kharbyr and then the hatchet-faced master elect in turn.

  ‘Bellathonis I remember, this other one I saw beyond the glass when they held me prisoner,’ Xelian said. She took a step towards the hatchet-faced haemonculus, her fingers hooking into claws once more.

  ‘I made an agreement, Xelian,’ Yllithian warned. ‘I agreed that bygones would be bygones on their part as well as ours. Come, we can find you better things to feast on than this withered old piece of flotsam.’

  Xelian stared at Yllithian for a long moment then shrugged and relaxed her hands. ‘You’re still the great schemer,’ Xelian said. ‘I should have expected as much. What’s been happening? Where’s that piece of filth El’Uriaq?’

  ‘Destroyed, sent back to the pit he crawled out of,’ Yllithian said coldly. ‘El’Uriaq proved… unsuitable as a rallying point against Vect and became a threat in his own right.’

  ‘Really,’ Xelian arched her perfect brows in disbelief. ‘So you dealt with him, then? After he took both myself and Kraillach down so adroitly. How did you defeat him?’

  ‘That’s for me to know and you to guess at, my dear Xelian,’ Yllithian gently admonished.

  Tell Xelian that we destroyed El’Uriaq. Don’t let Yllithian claim the credit.+

  Kharbyr swallowed and tried to think of a way to say such a thing without offending Yllithian or calling him a liar. Xelian’s eyes flicked across to him and he knew in that moment that she understood precisely what had happened – that Bellathonis was the one who had really dealt with El’Uriaq.

  ‘Well then keep your secrets,’ Xelian said dismissively to Yllithian. ‘It’s not like I really care. I need armour and weapons to be of any use. Tell me you brought something along with you.’

  ‘There’s plenty available on the dead trueborn outside,’ Yllithian retorted. ‘I’m afraid I had no time to swing by your boudoir at the Blades’ fortress on the way to literally saving your skin. Other matters have been pressing for my attention.’

  ‘It is time,’ the master el
ect announced abruptly. ‘The noble archons will depart the labyrinth now as agreed.’

  Xelian bared her teeth at the interruption but Yllithian waved away her ire. ‘Yes, we need to move on. Affairs will have been moving rapidly in the city while we’ve been stuck in here. Lead on, master elect, and you’ll have your dungeon back to call your own momentarily.’

  The master elect moved quickly, seemingly anxious to be rid of Yllithian and his force of invaders. They moved swiftly along the smooth, identical corridors of the labyrinth, yet as they did so Yllithian perceived a change in their surroundings. It was getting darker.

  His trueborn were well-equipped with both lights and their own excellent night vision but the darkness still seemed to ooze in closer with every step they took. In fact the shadows they cast became blacker and more hard-edged from moment to moment, with a hint of otherness about the shapes cast on the walls that seemed to suggest they were not their own shadows at all.

  Yllithian brought the column to a halt and ordered that the master elect be brought before him. Now he was no longer walking he realised it was getting colder too, his breath steaming gently in the chill air. When the master elect arrived Yllithian rounded on him furiously.

  ‘You seem to have forgotten that I hold the keys to the destruction of your entire coven!’ Yllithian snarled. ‘Should I be killed then the void mines I planted will tear this place apart, and yet I believe that you’re leading us into another trap. Convince me otherwise or you will forfeit your life.’

  The hatchet-faced haemonculus showed no signs of fear. The flat crystals replacing his eyes returned Yllithian’s angry stare balefully. ‘You must stay your hand. Affairs in the city have moved forward as you surmised they would,’ the master elect confirmed. ‘You are not the only invaders at large in the labyrinth. The children of Aelindrach have also turned against our coven…’

  The words had barely escaped the master elect’s lips when a sickle of yellowed bone sliced through his neck in a spray of arterial gore. The corridor erupted into pandemonium as countless mandrakes surged out of the shadows on the walls, ceiling and floor to attack the White Flames trueborn.