Path of the Dark Eldar

by Andy Chambers

  The hunt had been long and hard. Vhi’s capacitor banks were virtually drained. Its compact internal power source was struggling to maintain all systems at full functionality, but there was no doubt that the target was now within range for termination. Vhi lavished the energy necessary into firing a bolt from its heat lance to clear a wall in its way, bursting through it in a storm of molten shrapnel that had a high probability of inflicting collateral injury and inducing panic.

  Vhi’s sensors created a detailed snapshot of the space it had breached in less than a millisecond. It registered the teardrop-shaped space of the library, the stepped shelves and their contents, the cupola above and the forest of banners below in precise detail. The return for life forms present was less certain. Large numbers registered but the vast bulk of them were indistinct shadows caught in the act of recoiling from Vhi’s entry.

  Five life signs stood out distinctly near the bottom of the teardrop amidst the banners. Two of the life signs fulfilled the parameters for Vhi’s primary target. Vhi had moved less than two metres into the library chamber in the time taken to detect them. It twisted sharply, lavishing more energy on its gravitic impellers as it dived. The air shrieked around its hull as Vhi dropped on its prey like a hawk.

  The second it took to drop to the floor gave Vhi enough time to unleash another pulse from its heat lance. Thermal energy scoured a line across the location of the target traces and caused a momentary white-out in Vhi’s sensor feed. By the time the glitch cleared Vhi was overrunning the target and close enough to lash out with its chainflails. The murder machine slewed sideways to skid over its victim, the high-speed flails ripping away chunks of flesh and extremities in an orgiastic welter of blood.

  Vhi skidded to a halt with fires burning all around it, the forest of banners sprouting orange and yellow flowers as they were consumed. The Talos attempted to reacquire the psychic trace and for a frozen second found nothing but residuals. There were only two remaining detectable life signs and both were engaged in hostile activities. Vhi turned on them and made to lunge forwards but its dwindling reserves made the movement fatally sluggish. One of the life forms shot Vhi with a high-yield energy weapon at closer range, hitting the mid-dorsal carapace where its primary logic centres lay.

  Cascade failure was almost instantaneous. Part of Vhi’s consciousness was able to witness the rapid reduction in its faculties as the power spike burned its engrams into ash. Redundant fail-safes rerouted commands around the affected areas but it was fighting a losing battle. Self-destruct protocols went into effect, preparing Vhi’s internal power source to detonate like a miniature sun.

  The protocols were terminated abruptly by a large edged implement impacting directly on the damaged mid-dorsal carapace area. It struck with enough force to shear through Vhi entirely, instantly reducing its machine consciousness to a disparate shower of components. Vhi’s last impressions were of a hulking yet still ill-defined life sign towering over it with a primitive agricultural implement in its hand. A virtually undetectable second entity, a shadow of a shadow, stood poised behind Vhi’s slayer as if ready to strike. Vhi’s final logic collapse came in a weltering of conflicting data that a mortal being might have felt as ‘pride’ and ‘regret’.

  The outsiders had brought distraction and they had also brought death. The machine’s sudden attack provided Kheradruakh with all the opening that he needed. He swarmed down from the dark spaces and dropped behind Xhakoruakh just as the shadow-king swung his scythe to cleave the machine in two. The Decapitator swung his own long, straight blade at the shadow-king’s exposed neck with preternatural expertise…

  Chapter 22

  NECESSARY ALLIES

  Yllithian was startled for a second by Bellathonis’s sudden fit of madness. Then, as he caught sight of Bellathonis’s two agents lurking off to one side of the mandrake-king – Xagor and Kharbyr he recalled their names to be – all the pieces abruptly slid into place.

  He had been played.

  Bellathonis’s whole scheme had been put in motion to bring him before this creature called Xhakoruakh. It all made sense now – Bellathonis had swapped bodies with one of his agents. The individual that had led Yllithian through the labyrinth was not the haemonculus at all but one of its hapless subordinates. Yllithian knew quite well that Bellathonis was capable of such miracles; he’d performed one for him, too, by transmigrating his soul so that he could escape the glass plague consuming his old body.

  The plan seemed to have gone awry now that the false-Bellathonis was attacking his supposed minions. Xhakoruakh appeared to be just as bemused as he was by the turn of events and for a moment Yllithian felt a perverse twist of empathy for the hulking monstrosity. They were both leaders being beset by the machinations of their inferiors.

  Yllithian laid a hand on the grip of his pistol instinctively. The mandrakes had taken his sword but left him with his far deadlier blast pistol still holstered in plain view. Yllithian was torn between a desire to eliminate Bellathonis and his minions for their presumption in manipulating him or enjoying a certain admiration for the nuances of the scheme. In either case the question remained – why had he done it?

  The answer came with an explosion and the shriek of superheated air. Yllithian sprang to one side with his pistol drawn as a hurtling shape wreathed in flames erupted from a wall overhead and plummeted towards him. He fired a shot at it purely by instinct; it fired back at him in the same moment.

  They both missed, a vivid line of fire flashing over Yllithian’s head just as his blaster bolt careened past the thing’s shining carapace. He tracked it trying to get another shot as it hurtled overhead, following the course of the flame etched by its fire lance before landing a few metres away. It skidded sideways into the individual that Yllithian had been thinking of as Bellathonis and ripped him to pieces in the blink of an eye.

  It was a Talos, much smaller than the one they’d encountered earlier but no less deadly. Its scorpion tail whipped around as Yllithian steadied his pistol in both hands and fired, hitting it squarely on its curved prow. The blaster bolt punched a fist-sized crater straight through the armour and into the machine’s delicate innards. It seemed to stagger in the air and then dipped forwards to accelerate, gathering itself to lunge at Yllithian like a wounded animal.

  The shadow giant, Xhakoruakh, appeared suddenly at the machine’s flank. He seemed to simply ooze out of the air like a smoky cloud gathering out of nothing. The heavy, rusted scythe was still in the mandrake-king’s hands and he swept it straight through the Talos, cutting it in two. The sundered components crashed to the ground with a despairing shriek of tortured metal.

  Yllithian immediately pointed his pistol towards the roof to show he intended no harm to the king. As he did so Xelian sprinted past him with her blade drawn – running straight at Xhakoruakh. Yllithian opened his mouth to shout at her to stop, but in that moment he saw what she had already seen. A second shadowy shape was materialising behind Xhakoruakh. Xelian leapt forwards just as the apparition swung a long, straight blade at the mandrake-king’s neck.

  Xelian’s outstretched blade could not possibly block the blow in time, but she did deflect it. Xhakoruakh, already twisting away from Xelian’s apparent attack, was struck in the shoulder instead. The shadowy giant roared in pain and outrage as the sharp sword carved a deep furrow across its broad back, but he was alive to roar about it. Xelian rolled and came up on her feet ready to confront their new assailant – only to find that it had already vanished.

  Silence fell across the scene save for the crackle of flames and the cursing of the mandrake-king. Beyond the circle lit by the fires Yllithian could sense the mandrakes were gathering, angry and confused by what had occurred. He was about to order Bellathonis to tend to the injured king when he realised the haemonculus’s two minions – Xagor and Kharbyr – had both vanished.

  ‘Yllithian, what the hell’s going on here?’ Xelian demanded, eyeing
the circling mandrakes warily.

  ‘Bellathonis manoeuvred us into a place to kill us, along with good king Xhakoruakh here,’ Yllithian replied firmly. ‘I trust you will have the good grace to live, Xhakoruakh, you seem like a sturdy sort.’

  The giant mandrake shook himself like a dog and the drooling blackness that was spilling from his wounds lessened. ‘Only a scratch,’ Xhakoruakh rumbled in evident pain. ‘Why would the haemonculus betray me? He has served faithfully.’

  ‘That is his way,’ Yllithian sighed bitterly. ‘He will faithfully serve one master until he betrays them for another. Vect is behind this, I guarantee it – Bellathonis’s most recent interaction with you will give a clue as to why.’

  ‘He had just returned from the upper city with news that Vect has released his Castigators,’ Xhakoruakh said uncertainly. ‘He told me that we needed weapons, weapons we do not have, if we were to prevail.’

  ‘You see – he had already taken the decision to betray you, he was citing your weakness,’ Yllithian continued confidently. ‘When the haemonculus learned you were meeting with myself and Xelian – the ones who could supply the weapons you so badly need – he had to make his move, and is so often the case he fell victim to his own murderous schemes.’

  Xelian had a look on her face that veered between incredulity and pride at Yllithian’s tale-spinning. Xhakoruakh was unreadable, his formless face a perfect mask, yet Yllithian felt that the king’s body language indicated he was being swayed. Further embroidering of the truth was interrupted by shouts and the clash of weapons from the tunnel mouth they had used to enter the library.

  ‘My followers are merely concerned for our safety,’ Yllithian explained. ‘I will go to them and explain what’s occurred. When I return we can talk in more detail about just how we can help one another, king Xhakoruakh.’

  Xhakoruakh felt gingerly at his neck and slowly nodded.

  Hours later Xelian was clinging to the underside of a bridge in High Commorragh. She relaxed one limb at a time to keep her long muscles limber as she waited. A swarm of mandrakes hung silently near her, clustering like bats on the ornately fashioned bridge supports.

  She reflected on how fortunes could be changed so quickly. Her time in the labyrinth of the Black Descent was already fading from her mind. She had become a mindless thing living purely on rage and hate while she was trapped in there. The experience had been a crimson blur underscored by a growing sense of anticipation that she would one day be free. Now that she was free and whole again the memory of it was sloughing away like a discarded snakeskin.

  Yllithian was always so hard at work trying to manipulate everything, while Xelian was more inclined to deal with one thing at a time. On this occasion, however, she had to admit that Yllithian’s constant scheming had borne some useful fruit over and above setting her free. A deal had been struck with the mandrakes; Yllithian would support them and they would join their forces with his to fight against Vect. Everyone present knew that the alliance would last for precisely as long as it took to defeat the supreme overlord and not a minute longer. Given the present alternatives that tacit act of betrayal seemed a positively desirable outcome to look forward to.

  The bridge she clung to crossed between two closely set spires that were themselves merely finials on a greater, multi-tiered colossus. They were positioned not far from Xelian’s own fortress, or rather the fortress currently occupied by the usurper of her kabal, Aez’ashya. The two peaks formed a narrow canyon several hundred metres in length that passed beneath several other connecting bridges. Below them Xelian could see the curved terraces that were cut into the flanks of the spires stepping down into the gloom. Several of them had once been filled with water and walled with crystal. These had now all been shattered and their contents dumped out onto lower terraces where a few pools still gleamed in the wan light of the Ilmaea.

  Movement on one of the lower terraces drew Xelian’s attention. Two Castigators were striding across it, their long metallic limbs catching the light as they searched for enemies. She found herself holding her breath until they stalked out of sight. The idea of them noticing her at such a distance was ridiculous, but her subconscious self seemed to believe otherwise. The Castigators had barely left her field of vision when she caught another flicker of movement at the other end of the canyon. This was the one she’d been waiting for.

  A single Venom grav slewed around the corner and dipped its nose to start a high-speed run along the canyon. The Venom was one of Yllithian’s. He’d told her a handful of his craft had managed to escape the White Flames fortress before it was besieged. Now they were scattered in hiding around the city until they were needed in special tasks. Seconds behind the Venom a shoal of reaver jetbikes came screaming around the corner in hot pursuit. Splinter rifles flashed beneath the reavers’ curving prows as they looped wildly to make attacks on the fleeing Venom. Xelian could recognise the insignia on the jetbikes and even some of their riders – they were hers, reavers from the Blades of Desire.

  The Venom had got a head start accelerating down the straight, so its larger engines were already pouring out maximum thrust before the reavers came around the corner. Even so, once the reavers hit their turbo-boosters the larger craft was being rapidly overhauled. Xelian counted six reavers in total all spread out in a loose line. They’d abandoned using their guns in favour of milking every ounce of speed possible out of their bikes. Xelian knew what they were thinking – now it was a race between themselves to see who could overtake the Venom first and bring it down with a well-placed sideswipe using their wickedly hooked bladevanes. With the Venom boxed in by the vertical spire walls on either side it had no chance of escape.

  The Venom flashed past just metres beneath Xelian. She caught a glimpse of the pilot’s face twisting up to look at her with wide eyes full of fear and elation. Then the wedge-shape of the Venom was gone only for the space to be instantly filled by the wasp-like hull of one of the reavers in pursuit.

  Xelian leapt.

  She was aware of the mandrakes jumping too, a curious sort of folding then reappearing like wings opening and closing. It reminded her of bats again. The wych on the reaver below saw her coming and tried to twist aside. He was too slow. Xelian crashed into his shoulder feet-first, her armoured sabatons breaking the wych’s arm and collarbone with a sickening crunch. The wych’s scream was lost in the howl of the jetbike’s engines.

  The momentum of the jetbike spun Xelian aside as it carried on careering forwards. She turned the motion into a back flip as she lashed out at the rider with a razorflail. The jointed blade of the flail wrapped around the wych’s neck, half decapitating him. It also anchored itself deeply enough to drag Xelian in the jetbike’s wake as it nosed over into a death-dive.

  The white-hot jets of the reaver’s drive unit blazed only centimetres from her face as she struggled to pull herself aboard. She grabbed for a bladevane and felt it cut through her gauntlets as she used it to lever herself forwards against the mounting g-forces. The curving terraces of the spire’s flank were sweeping past almost within touching distance by the time she kicked the wych’s body out of the seat and grabbed the controls. She cut the power and fought to drag the machine out of its dive, hauling it up just short of disaster.

  It was so much fun being alive again. She owed Yllithian for that if nothing else.

  The mandrakes had killed all of the other reavers by the time she got back up to them. At least that’s what she guessed from the five fresh, smoking holes in the canyon walls. Of the mandrakes themselves and Yllithian’s Venom there was no sign. Xelian shrugged to herself. The plan assumed she would be on her own from this moment forward. The truth was she preferred it that way. She twisted the throttle on the jetbike and it shot away, taking her home.

  Aez’ashya, archon of the Blades of Desire, strode rapidly down a ramp in her fortress towards another disturbance in the reaver bays. She tried to think of it a
s her fortress, her domain, even though it didn’t really feel like it belonged to her at all. There were always furtive eyes watching her from corners, or whispering groups of kabalites falling silent at her approach. No one had plucked up the courage to challenge her for the place of archon yet, but it was coming.

  In the mid-tier kabals of Commorragh a change of archon was commonplace, the kabals themselves morphing and combining with dizzying regularity. In High Commorragh things were more static. The changeover in leadership for a kabal as large as the Blades of Desire should have been momentous, a major power shift. Instead it felt as if none of the kabalites really believed they had a new archon and still thought of Aez’ashya only as a glorified caretaker.

  She’d done what she could; she’d defeated all of her challengers and led the kabal to war. She’d even been to Corespur and met with Vect when he assembled his High Archons after the Dysjunction. It hadn’t been enough. Yllithian had survived her betrayal in the battle over Gorath, which put Aez’ashya out of favour with Vect. The kabal had taken heavy losses between fighting minions of Chaos and White Flames on top of those already incurred in the Dysjunction itself. None of her efforts had been enough, all because of Xelian.

  Xelian remained undefeated. Her body had been spirited away after what looked like a botched assassination attempt. Aez’ashya had found herself propelled into the vacant position of archon as if by an invisible hand. She had seized the opportunity and fought successfully to keep that position. Even after her secret patron had abruptly stopped helping her she kept fighting, but it felt like it was a losing battle. With the final fate of Xelian still uncertain it was impossible to entirely escape from beneath her shadow.

  She could hear a gabble of raised voices from further down the ramp. One of the reaver gangs had probably come back with more hair-raising stories: ghost warriors on the streets, the White Flames’ rebellion and mandrakes invading from Aelindrach. The agitation to get back out and participate in the fighting would already be starting. That meant Aez’ashya would be spilling more blood just to keep the kabalites in line.