by Gav Thorpe
Not far away Kahainoth and his five fellow rangers waited astride sand-and-red camouflaged jetbikes, two more of the anti-grav steeds hovering alongside them. Shells began to detonate against the pillar of the vault, showering grit and dust down onto the eldar.
Hylandris broke into a run as the rumble of tracks and growl of engines grew louder. The first armoured vehicle in the human column trundled around a rock column not far away. Dragging up his robe to his thighs, he swung a leg over the jetbike’s saddle and grasped the handlebars. He checked over his shoulder that Zarathuin was mounted. His companion avoided the farseer’s gaze.
‘Let us leave this Isha-scorned place,’ Hylandris said, signalling for the group to head off.
Engines whining, the jetbikes lifted higher and accelerated away, leaving trails of disturbed dust, abandoning the City of Spires to the incoming tide of the Flesh-thieves.
VI
Staggering through the streets, Illiathin clutched his head, trying to push away the pain that throbbed behind his eyes. He stumbled into someone and rebounded into a wall where he slumped, looking up at a blood-red sky. He slid down the wall to the ground, still staring up at the heaving tempest overhead.
The sky looked back at him, glowering with malign intent. The swirl of the storm clouds looked so much like an eye that Illiathin flinched, turning his head to avoid its gaze.
He tried to summon the will to stand up, to keep moving, but after a half-hearted attempt fell back to the ground. He moaned as the pressure inside his skull returned, making it feel as though his head would burst.
Illiathin peered across the street and saw a young eldar maiden weeping, her clothes shredded to rags, her face and arms bleeding from dozens of scratches where she had clawed at herself with broken fingernails. Others had been more extreme. Many of the True Guardians had killed themselves rather than endure the creeping paranoia that had swept through the populace.
Illiathin sat up when he felt the ground tremble. At first he thought it was the shockwave of an explosion, but the vibration did not stop. The sky was growing darker and darker, the blot across the heavens that had swathed sun and stars alike for many days was expanding, growing, coming closer. At first he had thought of the storm as besetting Eidafaeron alone, but the horrific realisation had dawned that the apparition was immense, truly cosmic, engulfing the entirety of the core worlds and the systems beyond. The doom swathed the entire eldar empire.
There were fresh screams from nearby. Wails and cries of sorrow and pain.
He realised he was shouting too, on his knees, weeping as he held his hands out to the sky to placate the descending Doom. He tasted blood on his lips and lifted a finger to his face. It was coming from his nose.
With a last effort he managed to get to his feet and limped a few steps, swaying from side to side as the ground shook. Forlorn, he stopped in the middle of the street. A handful of other eldar were close by, paying no heed to each other, mesmerised by the violent display in the heavens.
Looking up, Illiathin had a strange sense of vertigo. The broken towers loomed over him but it felt as if he looked into a deep abyss. There was a glimmering light at the bottom, growing brighter, coming closer. Entranced, he watched the light approaching, squinting when it became too bright.
The ground bucked, flinging him from his feet. He smashed his head, fresh blood pouring from the wound. Groggy, Illiathin rolled onto his front. The light was everywhere now, seeping through the shattered windows, leaking from doorways, engulfing the whole world.
The light and the pressure inside his head were one and the same. His mind had been a candle and now it was an inferno, trying to break free from the puny shackles of his will.
More screams echoed along the street, so high-pitched he thought they came from some animal. The maiden who had wounded herself was shrieking, battering her head against a wall, her movements jerky and uncontrolled.
She turned suddenly, her face mashed, splintered bone poking through ripped flesh as she stared at Illiathin with insane eyes. For a moment her seizure stopped.
Everything went still. The ground ceased its movements and the light was all-suffusing. The ambient glow made everything a vague ghost at the edges of Illiathin’s vision.
The sky split with a crack of thunder multiplied ten thousand-fold. Light burst from the maiden’s eyes and open mouth. An undulating aura of gold and silver poured out of her in a stream, lifting like wind-blown motes into the sky.
Illiathin saw others likewise afflicted, faces turned skywards, their spirits rippling in a shining thermal from their bodies. From across the city, from all across the world, across all of civilisation, the essence of the eldar was ripped from their bodies.
The spirit-stuff coagulated, becoming a seething cloud of psychic energy that roiled and burned and screamed inside Illiathin’s head, as though he were both part of the storm and watching it. Something monstrous thrashed and howled at the heart of the cloud, straining, snarling, pushing to break free.
The spirit-stream ended. The empty carcasses of the afflicted eldar toppled to the ground like dolls dropped by some obscenely powerful child. Illiathin stood rooted to the spot in abject terror as he felt the deaths of billions of his people. A background psychic chorus of life that he had taken for granted since birth, suddenly silenced.
Everything else, everyone else, had gone. He felt utterly alone for the first time ever.
And then the universe broke apart.
16
Neridiath had expected to find the stricken battleship half broken, lying amidst its own wreckage at the centre of a ploughed furrow of destruction. She was surprised to find nothing of the sort.
The eldar vessel was in the middle of a clearing, supported by the lower two of its four fin-like solar wings, the prow touching earth that had been cleared by the scorching entry. There seemed to be little external damage that would prevent take off once the anti-grav engines had stabilised the horizontal trim. Whoever had been piloting the ship had done a remarkable job, and Neridiath thought that perhaps the task in front of her was not so daunting as she had imagined.
The Patient Lightning was the largest vessel Neridiath had ever been aboard. The launch bay that swallowed up Stormlance and a flotilla of escorting attack craft could have housed the Joyous Venture with room to spare. Asurmen’s ship came alongside a quay about a third of the way from the inner wall, sliding gently to a halt above the docking platform. An arcing bridge linked the quay to the floor of the bay, where a small group of eldar had gathered.
Most of the fighters peeled away, returning to whatever duties they had been performing before the appearance of Asurmen’s vessel. Neridiath watched them go, Manyia peacefully asleep in her arms.
We should not keep our hosts waiting. Asurmen’s voice drifted across the matrix from elsewhere on the ship. Matters are rapidly approaching their conclusion.
Neridiath reached out mentally and caught the briefest glimpse of a small chamber, lit only by an ambient twilight that came from dozens of tiny motes floating freely. Asurmen’s armour was stood to one side, but there was no sign of the Phoenix Lord. Suddenly the lights disappeared and Asurmen’s armour straightened, the lenses of the helm glowing green with internal energy. The shock of the change broke the connection, leaving Neridiath with a pounding heart, her breath coming in shallow gasps.
We have docked, the ship informed her. I hope to spend time with you again.
‘That will never happen,’ replied Neridiath, thinking of how the starship had so gleefully put them all in danger.
The door opened, a gesture for Neridiath to leave. There was the faint glimmer of psychic power and Manyia stirred, blinking open her eyes and yawning.
Goodbye.
Neridiath said nothing, but hurried out of the chamber, eager to be away from the contrary vessel. Asurmen was already at the tip of the boarding bridge. She was stru
ck by his statuesque appearance. She had literally seen that pose in statues and paintings and other works for as long as she had been alive. A moment of fancy took her and she wondered if her likeness would be immortalised for her part in the continuing legend of the Asuryata. She had to admit to a certain thrill at the thought. Few were chosen to be agents of Fate.
Asurmen looked round at her approach and Neridiath felt a brief surge of impatience from the Phoenix Lord.
‘Have I kept you waiting?’ she replied with a scowl, her enthusiasm waning as they neared the point of action. The threat of battle was starting to loom large in her thoughts and her petty sarcasm masked her growing dread. ‘Perhaps you feel that I have inconvenienced you in some way?’
Ignoring her barbed remarks, Asurmen set off down the incline to the waiting group below. Neridiath followed a few paces behind, taking stock of the welcoming committee. She saw three robed seers, two in the rune armour of warlocks, a third wearing the high-peaked ghosthelm of a farseer. A small system of runes circled about the farseer’s torso and head like satellites, glinting in the setting sunlight that stretched into the launch chamber.
With the seers was a short, slender eldar dressed in an extravagant chequered body suit of red and dark blue, over which he wore a long coat of soft white fur trimmed with scarlet cloth. His hair was braided in a complex knot that hung past his shoulder, gems glittering in the golden bands that held it in place. She knew his type immediately – corsair captain. She had thought the Patient Lightning part of the Anuiven fleet but it was obvious that it was actually crewed by outcasts. She wondered if that boded well or not.
The last member of the group was an eldar so old that his skin had started to thin, veins clearly visible like ink seen through stretched parchment. He wore light robes hung with several talismans that identified him as a bonesinger – the constructor-mystics that could weave objects out of the psychic plastic known as wraithbone. He was ancient, and his presence confused Neridiath even further. The bonesinger was clearly accomplished in his field, and most of his kind with such experience stayed aboard the craftworlds creating new artefacts and ships, but here he was fulfilling the role of engineer on a pirate ship.
‘I am Hylandris, of Anuiven,’ said the farseer, stepping forward. He half turned, about to introduce his companions when Neridiath interrupted him.
‘I’ve heard of you, Hylandris the Star-breaker! To claim you are of Anuiven would be for me to say that I am Isha, simply because I have seen her statues. You are an outcast. Worse, a renegade.’
‘Our new arrival knows you too well, Hylandris,’ said one of the warlocks. He raised a hand in greeting, the other kept on the hilt of the Witchblade that hung at his belt. ‘I am Zarathuin and the other warlock is Faeriunnath. We are most definitely still welcome members of the Anuiven community, I assure you.’
‘Do we really have time for these introductions?’ Asurmen said. ‘The pilot is here, we should take off as soon as possible.’
The outlandishly dressed captain grimaced.
‘Our rangers and jetbike squads warn us that the Flesh-thieves are about to mount another offensive. We are most vulnerable in the first moments of lift-off and we cannot risk doing so while under direct attack. Their longer-range cannons have been silenced, but they still have many guns to threaten us. We must repulse this assault before we can leave.’
‘It is as I foresaw,’ added Hylandris. ‘Rest assured that when the moment is upon us, we will act.’
‘You choose strange company,’ said Neridiath, turning her accusing stare on the corsair. ‘I assume this is your ship?’
‘Tynarin Tuathein, void prince, known by many as the Brightness of Heavens,’ the captain said with a sinuous bow. Neridiath found his manner skirting between sincerity and mockery and was taken aback by his disarming smile when he straightened. ‘This is the Patient Lightning, and you have my eternal gratitude if you can save us from this deplorable predicament.’
‘Basir Runemaster,’ the bonesinger said curtly. ‘I owe you no explanations. Repairs are ongoing, but we are not yet ready to leave.’
‘You are the pilot, yes?’ said Hylandris, stepping in front of the others to reassert his authority. He looked at Asurmen. ‘I had foreseen her arrival. You, I did not expect.’
‘Do not be hasty to hunt a single future,’ the Phoenix Lord said quietly. ‘Lest in turn the future hunts you.’
‘Is that a threat?’ said the farseer, stepping back. He cast a glance at the two warlocks, as though they might intervene on his behalf.
‘We are here to protect you from the Dark Lady and her minions, nothing more,’ Zarathuin said. ‘Did I strike you as insane? I am not challenging a Phoenix Lord.’
Tired.
‘You all need to stop talking,’ Neridiath told them sharply, hoisting Manyia a little higher. ‘Someone is going to tell me exactly what I need to do, but if we are not leaving right now I need somewhere for my daughter to sleep.’
‘It will be better if you are also rested,’ added Asurmen. ‘The task ahead will be taxing in the extreme.’
‘Our oversight, madam Neridiath,’ said Tynarin, interposing himself between the pilot and Hylandris. ‘Follow me to your quarters. The Patient Lightning is rather large, best that you do not roam without a guide.’
Neridiath nodded and followed as the captain turned away, beckoning for her to accompany him. Asurmen was at her side and the others were close on her heel. She turned her head and looked up at Asurmen.
‘It seems to me that everyone is very busy making sure I know exactly where I am supposed to be,’ she said.
‘You are very important, it is only concern for your safety,’ the Phoenix Lord replied.
‘Yes, I’m sure that’s exactly what it is.’
When they reached the passageway adjoining the launch bay Basir Runemaster muttered some excuse and left them, heading aft. Hylandris dismissed Zarathuin and Faeriunnath, explaining that they should move to counter the enemy incursions towards the battleship. With a growl, Zarathuin excused himself and stalked away, followed by the other warlock.
‘Are you not fighting with them?’ asked Asurmen.
‘I’m a seer, not a warrior,’ snapped Hylandris. ‘Besides which, I am too valuable to the craftworld to risk my life in close confrontation.’
‘Just exactly what is your role here?’ said Neridiath. ‘You were outlawed from Anuiven a long time ago, what concern is it of yours what happens to the craftworld? And speak plainly, I’ll take none of your enigmatic seer mystic-speak.’
Hylandris paused in his stride for a moment, apparently insulted by the implication. He knotted his fingers together at his waist as he started to walk again, and spoke without looking at Neridiath.
‘The son never forgets the mother. I accept that some of my activities might be seen as meddling in the lives of individuals, but recent events have proven I was right to pursue my studies in the direction I did. Anuiven is under threat, and I am helping divert that threat back onto its perpetrator. It is my intent to redirect the forces currently besieging this battleship, so that they will interfere with the expansionist plans of Ulthwé.’
‘You are setting yourself against another craftworld?’ Neridiath was equally amazed and horrified by the notion. ‘These depraved humans will kill other eldar?’
‘A regrettable but unavoidable consequence to a conflict initiated by the seers of Ulthwé. It is they that have placed Anuiven in danger to protect themselves. I am simply responding to their aggression.’
‘And the seer council of Anuiven backs your actions?’
‘Their interference is undesirable,’ the seer confessed. ‘They know of the ongoing crisis. They will be grateful for my intercession on their behalf.’
‘I don’t understand how this squabble can be a threat to all our people,’ the pilot said to Asurmen.
�
��There are consequences to every decision, reactions to every action,’ the Phoenix Lord said. ‘What begins as strife between two craftworlds can extend to all. The war cannot be allowed to escalate.’
‘Well said,’ exclaimed Hylandris. ‘If we can head off this altercation now, it shows Ulthwé that they are not above retaliation. They will stop turning events against Anuiven and we can continue in peace and companionship.’
‘How do I have anything to do with this?’ asked Neridiath. She touched a hand to Tynarin’s arm. ‘What happened to your pilots?’
‘They were wholly subsumed within the navigational matrix when we suffered a catastrophic energy reverse.’ He hesitated, grief passing across his face. ‘Their minds have been burned out. Only their physical shells remain.’
‘How did the starship not crash? Fate has spared you a catastrophic end.’
‘The Patient Lightning used the last vestiges of its conscious minds to steer itself to safety,’ the captain said. ‘We could take off, but without a pilot like yourself to mesh with the matrix, we cannot hope to outmanoeuvre the ships waiting for us. The spirits that drive us are simply unable to understand or even perceive such material matters. Those cursed ships would cut us to pieces before we even broke orbit. Do not concern yourself, the ship will do the fighting, you just have to lend it your nervous system.’
Neridiath wasn’t sure what to make of this and kept the rest of her questions to herself. The more she found out about what was happening, the less convinced she was that she should be involved.
They stopped in front of a golden archway sealed by ornately decorated doors. The doors swung open at Tynarin’s command, revealing a transport chute. The captain darted a look at Hylandris and then Asurmen, before waving for Neridiath to board the transporter.
‘We should allow our guest to rest before we tax her with more lengthy explanations,’ the corsair said when she had stepped aboard. He moved into the doorway, blocking the entry of the others.
