Deathwatch: Warrior Coven Part 12

Glancing back over his shoulder as he attempted to parry one of the lashing pincers with his feeble blade, Octavius saw the radiant figure of the Blood Ravens librarian storming through the arena towards him. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of another figure in the arena behind him, but before he could look properly his blade snapped and the mechanical pincer crashed into him, swatting him off his feet and sending him skidding across the floor.

Rolling as he landed, Octavius craned his neck around to see Atreus and Ashok prowling around the new and beautiful figure in the arena, encircling her like predators around prey. She appeared undaunted and even slightly coy, with her arms folded self-consciously over her chest, and with blades held delicately in each hand. Her long black hair seemed to billow around her, as though caught in a daemonic breeze, and her exposed, pale skin glistened seductively. It was the wych queen herself a overcome by the voyeuristic thrill of combat, she had vaulted down into the arena to join in.

Her presence transformed the already blood drenched arena. The remaining wyches broke off from their engagements with the Marines, flipping and vaulting into retreat so that Lelith would be the unchallenged centre of attention as she battled the two librarians.

From his momentarily p.r.o.ne position, Octavius could see his team respond: Kruidan was already charging across the arena to a.s.sist his captain; Pelias and Luthar were giving chase to the fleeing wyches; and Sulphus was studying the mechanical monster that was attacking Octavius. As for the eldar, there was no sign of the two seers, so Octavius presumed that Ashok had already taken care of them, but the shimmering Aspect Warrior was slipping her way past the librarians to engage the wych queen herself.

As the new and rapidly changing situation registered in his mind, a sharp pain seared through Octaviusa abdomen; something had punched down through his back as he lay on the ground distracted just for a second. Before he could respond, the huge talon erupted into a spray of spines that jabbed into his internal organs, securing itself in his flesh and yanking him up into the air. He roared in pain as the mechanical Talos construct brandished the Deathwatch captain in the air like a trophy, and the crowd brayed in response, stamping their feet with thunderous approval.

Thrashing and twisting his body against the ma.s.sive violations being done to it, Octavius hacked and smashed with the remains of his blade until it snapped again, collapsing under the furious violence of the captainas rage. With his weapons ruined, the Imperial Fist pounded with his hands, struggling to detach himself from the barbed talon that impaled him, but every movement simply drove the spines deeper into his flesh.

The crowd was going wild, and, even in the throes of such hideous agony, Octavius could tell that their attention was no longer being held by his own struggle with the Talos. He could hear the crackling discharge of warp energy and the metallic clatter of blades clashing. He could hear the yells as Ashok and Atreus tried to co-ordinate the attack on the wych queen, knowing that her death was their best chance of survival and victory. For the first time in his life, Octavius realised that he was little more than a sideshow, in so many ways.

Kruidan arrived too late. As he launched himself through the air, driving his glaive out in front of him like a lance and punching it through the metal armour that covered the monstrous Talos, he knew that Octavius was already dead. As he ran, he had watched helplessly as the impaled captain had been flourished and brandished by the construct, thrashing him against the wall and the ground like a toy. Finally, just as the Mantis Warrior had closed with range, the Talos had ripped the captain clear of its sting leaving a gaping hole in his stomach as the two front pincers held him up for the crowd to see one last time. Then, without ceremony, the pincers had pressed the heroic Marine between the ma.s.sive, metallic, gnashing teeth in the front of the Talos, riddling him with puncture wounds before sucking him inside the terrible armoured sh.e.l.l. As he vanished from view, Kruidan thought that he had heard the captainas last defiant words, almost swamped in the cacophony of the arena: aPrimarch a Progenitor, to your glory and the glory of Him of Earth!a

CHAPTER ELEVEN: FAILURE.

As it consumed the captain, incarcerating him within its armoured sh.e.l.l and feeding on what remained of his life force, the Talos empted into renewed frenzies of activity, thrashing its talon tail and lashing with its ma.s.sive pincers. Kruidan was already upon it, climbing over its jagged sh.e.l.l and hanging on to the vicious spikes that stabbed out of its armour. He held his glaive in one hand, using it to jab down into the cracks between the armoured plates, trying to prise one off so that he could get inside. For some reason, he knew that there was probably no pilot in a well-hidden c.o.c.kpit within a the Talos seemed to move with a will and a thirst of its own a but the Mantis Warrior didnat care. The hideous construct had taken the life of his captain, and he could not permit it to survive.

A terrible clanging and sc.r.a.ping noise alerted Kruidan to the presence of Sulphus, as the techmarine clambered up on top of the Talos, his various augmetic arms dragging him up over the p.r.o.nged surface in the manner of a spider, clamping him securely to the machineas sh.e.l.l.

The Talos bucked and shook, trying to shed its unwanted pa.s.sengers like a beast attempting to rid itself of parasites. Its great curving tail and its mechanical pincers started to convulse and shake, as though they were utterly out of control. The distinct hum of energy started to pulse through the metallic structure, as though being drawn into its thrashing limbs. Then, after a couple of seconds, the pincers and sting erupted with fire, spraying wild volleys of fiery projectiles around the arena.

The weapons seemed to discharge without aiming and the Talos itself started to spin as though rotating on a central, vertical axis. Random energy blasts hailed around the arena, crashing into the walls, the ground and even into the stands. The audience screamed with delight as it scattered away from the explosions.

The spinning motion of the Talos grew faster and faster as its limbs flailed uncontrollably, spraying the amphitheatre with a random spread of lethal shards. Kruidanas grip around the spike in the constructas hull was slipping as the increasingly powerful centrifugal force threatened to throw him clear of the mechanical beast. He pushed his glaive deeper into the armoured plates and transferred his weight, but it was no good. After a few seconds the glaiveas blade could no longer maintain its penetration and Kruidan was sent flying.

The Mantis Warrior spiralled through the air, flipping end over end as the incredible momentum threw him thirty metres and smashed him against the remnants of the gladiatrix gates. He slid down the wall into a heap against the floor before pulling himself back to his feet, leaning his weight against the buckled and bent glaive that he still held tightly in his hands.

The arena had changed completely. The Talos was spraying fire indiscriminately, and even the gladiatrix wyches were beginning to take some cover, although it was relatively clear that this mechanical monstrosity was part of the show. The crowd jeered at any of the surviving wyches that attempted to flee the arena, spitting their disdain and disgust and pressuring the darkling gladiatrixes to remain in the arena of death. Meanwhile, the crowd was writhing and roiling, like a single, ma.s.sive organism that was struggling to avoid the errant volleys from the Talos. This was audience partic.i.p.ation at its worst.

A little way from the spinning and convulsing Talos, Lelith was dancing with Dhrykna. The two female warriors were breathtaking in their elegance and beauty as they circled, flipped, somersaulted and spun with their blades flashing at incredible speeds. They paid almost no attention to the flurries of fire that sizzled past them or exploded at their feet; they simply turned or ducked or sprang to avoid them, integrating the movements smoothly and flawlessly into their continuously evolving dance. The scant, dark armour of the wych queen flashed with blackness, whilst the glistening white of Dhryknaas psycho-plastic armour seemed to burn with purity and brilliance. It was like watching a battle between heaven and h.e.l.l.

Ashok and Atreus stood magnificently between the heavenly battle and the Talos, each unleashing tirades of warp power into the midst of both contests. With one hand they sought to support the glittering Aspect Warrior of Ulthwe, and with the other they poured destruction against the thickly armoured Talos. Their concentration was immense as they struggled to avoid striking their allies in both combats, and their own immobility rendered them into standing targets for the blasts from the Talosa weapons.

Sh.e.l.ls and projectiles smacked into them, exploding into plumes of flame, smoke and shrapnel, but when the fireworks subsided, they could be seen standing untouched and glorious exactly where they had been before, dousing the enemies of the Emperor with streams of psychic death.

On the far side of the arena, in amongst the explosions and the relentless flashing of blades, Pelias and Luthar were engaging the remaining wyches. Their armour was cracked and chipped, and their hands ran red with blood, but they parried and punched at the darkling warriors with the fury of pride and righteousness. The hilts of daggers and swords protruded from their abdomens and limbs, where the gladiatrixes had penetrated their defences and struck home with their blades. But the Marines fought on undaunted and uncowed, their superhuman bodies able to function effectively despite the egregious wounds and the terrible pain.

They were outnumbered nearly four to one, but they stood back to back and showed the dark eldar what it meant to be part of a Deathwatch kill-team. They were in the arena to kill, not to be killed.

Looking back to the Talos, Kruidan saw that Sulphus was still clamped to its roof, his mechanical arms secured firmly to the beastas metallic sh.e.l.l even as the rest of his body thrashed and waved in the air above it. So close to the cha.s.sis of the mechanical monster, Sulphus was actually the only one safe from its random spray of fire.

The techmarine was beating at the roof of the Talos, pounding relentlessly at its armour with his fists and smashing at it with the adamantium fixture at the end of one his free augmetics. Eventually, the metal started to buckle and bend. The corners of the armoured plate began to lift as the centre of the panel became depressed.

As soon as there was enough of a lip for him to get a grip, Sulphus jammed his free augmetic arm into the widening crack and prised the panel up, ripping it clear of the bucking beast and throwing it aside. With a hole in its back, the Talos lurched into still more frenetic bouts of fury, vibrating, spinning and rearing in an attempt to dislodge the Iron Father that clung to its scales. But Sulphus could smell victory, and he clawed at the edges of the hole, yanking panel after panel off the beastas back until the gap was large enough for a Marineas body.

With a tremendous effort of strength that caused the servos in his mechanical limbs to whine and groan, Sulphus reeled himself in against the tortuous centrifugal force generated by the spinning Talos. He pulled himself flat against the metallic monsteras sh.e.l.l and transferred his weight to his human arm for a fraction of a second as he readjusted his mechanical grip, pushing his augmetic arms down inside the huge wound in the Talosa back. In that crucial instant, the centrifugal force nearly threw him clear a his human arm was simply too weak to hold him properly in place. But just as his body lifted off the surface of the sh.e.l.l, his augmetics found purchase in the Talosa interior and they pulled him inside.

It only took a few seconds for the techmarine to work his havoc in the interior of the mechanical beast. He had only been inside for a moment when the smooth and rapid spin started to splutter and lurch spasmodically. The Talos itself pitched forward, as though losing its balance. As the spin rate dropped abruptly, the metallic construct listed to one side and its weapons stopped firing. Then the structure seemed to gather speed, charging sideways through its sudden loss of balance, as though trying to prevent itself from falling over. It accelerated continuously until it smashed hard into the wall of the arena.

Smoke and debris plumed around the grounded Talos, but then the whole thing convulsed and detonated, blowing itself apart in a symphony of flames and red-hot metal shards. A series of secondary explosions erupted from the wreckage as the remaining ammunition blew, and a flaming inferno engulfed the surrounding area. For a few moments, there appeared to be silence in the crowd as they stared at the unprecedented destruction that was unravelling in their arena; could any of the darklings have expected the mon-keigh to survive so long? Had they ever encountered the Deathwatch before?

Through the silence and the fire emerged the tentacular figure of Sulphus, silhouetted against the raging flames. He strode out of the wreckage of the Talos, clutching something in one of his human hands. Even from his position by the ruined gates, Kruidan could see that Sulphus was holding the vivid yellow shoulder guard of an Imperial Fists captain.

As Lelith slipped inside the Aspect Warrioras lunge, she grinned with appreciation. It had been so long since she had battled a truly worthy opponent, and she made a mental note to thank Thaeaakzi for dispatching this glorious Shining Spear. Over the last several thousand years, she had done battle with the eldar of various craftworlds and even with the Ulthwe themselves from time to time, but she had only rarely come across warriors from the Shining Aspect. They were a rare delicacy, and Lelith was savouring every moment of the ritual of combat with this one. Despite the obvious contradictions, she found herself wishing that there were more such warriors in the galaxy.

Dhryknaas blade just glanced the immaculate skin of Lelithas sculpted stomach, drawing a hairline of near-black blood across the pale surface. Rather than withdrawing the sword, the Shining Spear followed through, darting after her own lunge and dropping low, as though antic.i.p.ating a counter strike at head height. The Aspect Warrior was right, and Lelith spun at the precise moment that her stomach was cut, peeling away from the edge of the blade and bringing her own around in an elegant arc. Had Dhrykna withdrawn, the cut would have sliced through her slender neck. Instead, the exchange ended as it had begun, with the two warriors facing each other, just out of range. This time, however, a trickle of blood was running down Lelithas stomach and a few droplets were dripping down onto her leg, showing up in stark contrast to the pale skin of her right thigh.

The wych queen fixed her glistening, black eyes on Dhrykna as she ran a finger through the delicate cut in her skin, scooping out a bead of blood before licking it clean. Her eyes were wild with the thrill of combat, and her lips seemed to tremble in barely contained excitement. At that moment, all thoughts of the daemonic princess were banished from her mind a there was only the indescribable ecstasy of a worthy opponent.

She watched the Shining Spear cycling through various combat stances, flourishing her blades around her body and then above her head, slipping easily around the stray volleys of fire from the Talos. There was an effortless grace to the femaleas actions that filled the wych queen with admiration and thirst. She could scarcely contain her desire to ruin the shimmering perfection that danced and postured before her. To ruin something so beautiful was the highest calling in Lelithas long life a more powerful even than the temptations sent by the Satin Throne itself, although Lelith had often had reason to suspect that such ruinations would also be Slaaneshas indulgence of choice.

Running her blood tipped tongue around her pursed lips, Lelith turned a precise pirouette, spinning her two curving blades into rapidly reducing circles around her as she brought her hands together above her head. She struck a pose for an instant, letting the wild, maddened crowd admire her stretched and taught form. Then she dropped into a crouch and threw herself forward.

Dhrykna was ready for her. The Aspect Warrior spun to the side and kicked up into the air, letting Lelithas blades lash under her feet. But, at the last moment, the Shining Spear realised that she had made a mistake. As the momentum of her jump faded, Dhrykna fell back towards the ground, momentarily without strength or control. Meanwhile, Lelith had already recovered her balance after her own lunge, and she spun once again, bringing both her blades around in rapid succession. They cut into Dhryknaas back just as her feet hit the ground, slicing two thin, parallel gashes through her armour and drawing blood. Gasping, the Aspect Warrior fell forward out of range, tucking into a roll and coming up again to face the wych queen with her own blades poised.

Pain lanced across her back as the psycho-toxic poisons from Lelithas blade started to infiltrate her nervous system. She could already feel the muscles in her back beginning to spasm and stiffen as the poison started to eat them away. She howled in defiance and pain, refusing to let the injury signal the end of her resistance. In that fateful moment, everything suddenly seemed clear to the Aspect Warrior. It was as though the meaning of her life was flashing before her: she had been sacrificed by the Seer Council for the good of Ulthwe a that much was obvious enough. Part of her soul resented the fact that the council had thought that it had to trick her into making such a sacrifice, when they should have known that her sense of duty was beyond reproach and that her concern for the survival of the dwindling eldar was paramount in her mind. She shrieked in anguish, angry to be misunderstood to the last. With abrupt sweeps, she pointed her two blades out to each side, extending her pain wracked shoulders as though flexing non-existent wings.

Even worse than the pathetic and meaningless deceptions of the council, however, Dhrykna realised that Thaeaakzi had chosen her on purpose. She had asked the Emerald Seer whether it might not have been better to have sent some Black Guardians or even a detachment of Dark Reapers a Truqui, the exarch, would have been a stronger and more appropriate choice. But the seer had refused to hear of it, claiming that this duty fell on the shoulders of the Shining Spears.

At the time, despite her suspicions, Dhrykna and thrilled with pride at those words, but now she could see the truth of it: Thaeaakzi had never wanted her to ascend to the armour of the exarch. She had never wanted to see another exarch tending to the temple of the Shining Light. For as long as Thaeaakzi had been the Emerald Seer, the Shining Spears had suffered diminishing power and numbers. Although she did not know what it was, it was clear to Dhrykna in this moment of agony and death that the Emerald Seer harboured a secret about her time in the Shining Temple, a secret that could jeopardise her position on the council and her power on Ulthwe. The Shining Path permits no shadows. Thaeaakzi had sent Dhrykna to her doom not only as a sacrifice for Ulthwe but also as a way of ridding the craftworld of the only aspirant exarch of its smallest Aspect Temple.

aLight flashes, blood falls, death pierces the darkness!a Dhrykna howled again, trying to drag her mind back into the present for one last effort of will. Her soul was filling with a hateful desperation as she realised that her entire encounter with the mon-keigh had been stage-managed from the start. The worst of it was that the humans themselves had behaved with an honour and courage worthy of her respect, but she had held them in contempt nonetheless. In reality, it seemed that it was her own people that were worthy of her contempt.

The poison was spreading quickly through her back, and she could already feel the muscles around her waist beginning to seize up. In a few moments it would be too late for her to bring about an end worthy of a Shining Spear. Summoning the last vestiges of her will and her strength, Dhrykna darted towards the dancing wych queen. Her first strike was parried easily and Lelith skipped out to the side. But Dhrykna was not finished yet: as Lelith stabbed forward with her counter, the Aspect Warrior let herself drop to the ground, letting the queenas blade pa.s.s harmlessly over her. As Lelith leant forward to catch her balance, Dhrykna stabbed upwards with both of her swords, driving them into the already blood slicked abdomen of the beautiful wych queen.

As Lelith screamed, sliding down the blades and impaling herself even further, Dhrykna howled with the defiance of victory in death. But just before the wych queen slumped down on top of the p.r.o.ne Aspect Warrior, she thrust her own blades down through the shimmering white figure, running her through and catching her own sliding fall at the same time. For a moment, the two female warriors gazed into each otheras eyes, sharing the intensity of death, but then Lelith freed herself of the spell and pulled herself back to her feet. Dhryknaas blades still protruding from her stomach and back, she brayed up to the crowd like a wild wolf.

At exactly that moment, on the other side of the arena, the Talos construct detonated, hurling concussions, flames and shrapnel through the already death riddled s.p.a.ce within the amphitheatre. The darklings in the crowd were beside themselves with the orgiastic pleasure of violence and voyeurism.

Picking himself up off the ground after the explosion, Ashokas eyes flicked automatically towards the spot where the wych queen had stood only moments before. She was gone. Lying in the blood soaked dirt where Lelithas stiletto boots had been only instants before, he could see the mined body of the white-clad Aspect Warrior, its feet still twitching with the last signs of a collapsing nervous system.

Atreus, itas time to leave. We must find the spirit pool. Ashokas thoughts growled with discontent as he strode over to the fallen warrior, leaving the Blood Ravens librarian to conduct a survey of the situation in the arena.

The gates have closed again, librarian, but the eldar seer did them considerable damage. We should be able to get out that way. Atreus could see the cracks and holes that riddled the gladiatrix gates, not to mention the huge sections that had been completely blown away.

All around the auditorium, dark eldar warriors were vaulting down into the arena from the stands, as though they had finally realised that something other than ceremonial combat was occurring in their amphitheatre. The destruction of the Talos and the injury of their queen may well have been the turning point in the mood of the audience. It seemed that they had decided that the Deathwatch Marines should not be permitted to live out the rest of the day, despite their victories.

We have company, librarian. Atreus strode off to intercept the crowd, aiming to buy some time for his battle-brothers.

I know. Ashok appeared unconcerned about the dozens of dark eldar wyches and warriors that were flooding down from the stands into the fighting pit. Had he bothered to look around, he would have seen the blood drenched and damaged figures of Luthar and Pelias storming across the arena from the far side, just outpacing the growing crowd of aliens that raced after them. Sulphus and Kruidan were already at the great gates, ripping sections of masonry out of their weakened structure to open a gap wide enough for the team to get through.

Kneeling swiftly at the side of the lightling eldar, Ashok gazed into her fading eyes. Egregious puncture wounds were ripped into her chest and stomach, and Ashok could see the toxic poison eating away at her internal organs. Her eyes widened when she saw the Angels Sanguine librarian looming over her and then they contracted again with the pain of effort. Please.

The word was solitary and radiant, like a sonorous, silvering chime in the murky psychic darkness of the arena. He could see the alienas eyes beseeching him with the very last vestiges of its strength.

Donat let them win.

Ashok nodded his understanding, even though he was not entirely sure about the meaning of her last four words.

aLibrarian Ashok!a Lutharas voice bellowed over from the gates, where the rest of the kill-team was now a.s.sembled. His tone was urgent and filled with the anger of battle. aThere is no time!a In the back of his mind, Ashok could remember how that same Reviler chaplain had said something similar to him on Trontium VI before this mission had begun. The librarian remained stooped over the dying eldar and showed no signs of having heard the chaplain. Involuntarily, his anger began to rise, just as it had on the mountainside on Trontium VI as he had gazed down on the injured Angels Sanguine Marine while the orks blew h.e.l.l out of the mountaintop. He did not leave people behind.

We cannot save her Ashok. The words of Atreus reached behind the thickening veil of blood that was drawing over his eyes. She is not a Marine - there is nothing we can do for her.

The rampage of wyches was almost upon him as Ashok nodded once again to the Aspect Warrior and reached down to clasp her head in his hands. With a sudden movement, he snapped her neck, killing her instantly. He knew what her dark cousins would do to her if they took her alive, even if there was only a trace of life left in her broken body. She might not be a Marine, but he could not wish that on anything that had fought at his side.

Punching his fist through the armour on her chest, Ashok wrenched out a handful of psycho-plastic and flesh, and then he sprang to his feet. As he turned to dash back towards the gates, a blast of warp energy from Atreus seared past his face, crashing into the charging crowd behind him, making the wyches scatter and buying the Angel Sanguine time to reach his battle-brothers.

As the Deathwatch team vaulted and clambered through the ruined gates with the wyches lashing at their heels, they found Sulphus already at work on the far side. He had taken a clutch of explosive sh.e.l.ls from the Talos whilst he had been inside, and he was busily fixing them around the frame of the gates.

Ashok was the last Marine to dive out of the arena and through into the shadowy corridor; as he cleared the mantel, Sulphus detonated the sh.e.l.ls. A ring of explosions burst out of the walls, blowing great chunks of masonry and debris out of the supporting structures and causing lumps of rock and boulders to crash down from the lintel. By the time that Ashok had rolled back to his feet, the ruined great gates had been completely buried under a ma.s.sive pile of rubble that blocked the way back into the arena.

The darkness was riddled with javelins of darkly glimmering light that eased their way lazily through the rubble blockade. On the far side, the Deathwatch Marines could hear the scrambling of fingers and weapons against rock, as the dark eldar strove to remove the obstacles to their hunt.

aIt wonat hold them for long,a murmured Sulphus, as though apologising.

aIt will be long enough,a replied Ashok distractedly as he shook the eldar flesh and plastinated armour off his hand. After a second or two, he was left with a small, oval, dimly glowing gemstone in the palm of his hand. He inspected it for a second, and, momentarily, the others could see the faint reflection of its phantasmagoric light spark in the depths of his black eyes. Without knowing why, it held their attention in reverential silence as Ashok dropped it into a pouch on his belt, where they could hear it clink up against two others.

aThis way,a murmured Ashok as he strode deeper into the darkness, away from the makeshift barricade. It was not an order, but merely an observation of fact: this was the way he was going. It was not clear to the others whether the Angel Sanguine had been addressing them or not, but they fell in behind him automatically. In any case, there did not appear to be anywhere else to go.

The corridor quickly narrowed and lowered as it snaked deeper into the mountain, growing hotter and stuffier with every abrupt corner and sweeping bend. There were dozens of tributary tunnels leading in and out of the main shaft, and Ashok strode confidently from one to the next, pushing onwards as though certain of his direction. From time to time, they could hear the cackling voices of dark eldar wyches or the trampling of warriorsa feet echoing through the pa.s.sageways, but they encountered very few aliens. They couldnat tell whether the crowd of wyches that had been sc.r.a.ping at the rubble in the gateway to the arena had given up or whether they had broken through and simply lost track of the group.

After what seemed like nearly half an hour of steady progress, the team emerged into a wide, cavernous chamber. It was roughly spherical in structure, and dozens of pa.s.sageways led out of it in every direction, some cut into the walls, others into the floor and still others into the domed ceiling.

The Deathwatch Marines fanned out, inspecting the unusual s.p.a.ce but realising that it was an impossible chamber to secure. There were simply too many entrances, and there was not a single point from which an individual could monitor them all. As they made their way through the cave, the Marines noticed that some of the pa.s.sage mouths were actually reflective pools of energy. From a distance, they were indistinguishable from gaps and corridors, but close up the images rippled and sparkled like liquid.

aWhat is this place?a asked Sulphus, his curiosity genuinely aroused by the bizarre feat of engineering.

aIt is a nodal chamber,a answered Ashok matter-of-factly, as he strode from one pool to the next, peering into each carefully as he went.

aWhat?a snapped Luthar. The Reviler was quite accustomed to infiltrating enemy positions and working behind enemy lines, but he had never come across anything like this before. aWhat do you know about this Blood Angel?a aIt is a kind of navigation point,a explained Ashok, seemingly oblivious to the accusatory tone in the chaplainas voice. aEach of these pools is an access point to a form of transportation network. Iam not exactly sure how it works, but I would guess that it is a.n.a.logous to the eldar webway. These pools are portals that can transport us instantaneously to various linked points.a The Angel Sanguine librarian had stopped next to one of the pools and was kneeling at its side. He was peering into the rippling image with concentration written across his hidden features.

aHow do you know all this, librarian?a asked Atreus. The erudition of the Blood Ravens was legendary, but he had never heard of anything like this before. There was certainly no mention of such a transport system in the great library aboard the magnificent battle barge, Omnis Arcanum.

Ashok stood to his feet, as though reaching a decision, and then turned to face Atreus. aThis is the one,a he said, as though the previous conversation had been going on in the background and had nothing to do with him. aWe need to go through here.a The Blood Raven regarded him carefully. aI think that you should tell us what you know, Ashok. You are not the commander of this mission, and we need a reason to follow you. Our sense of duty will take us only so far.a The two librarians faced each other in silence for what seemed like an age. Meanwhile, the other Marines kept up the surveillance, ensuring the integrity of the chamber while the situation was resolved. The Deathwatch team had entertained various doubts about the mysterious Angel Sanguine librarian, and Atreus had taken on the task of mediating the question of trust. In the absence of Octavius, the mantle of command should naturally fall to one or other of the librarians.

Eventually, Ashok spoke. aYouare right, Atreus. This is not the time for secrets. This nodal chamber is similar to one in the heart of Ulthwe, which I discovered during my infiltration mission on the craftworld. At that time, I was searching for an access point to the craftworldas infinity circuit a the reservoir of Ulthweas lost souls. I found it. It corresponds with this portal,a said Ashok, indicating the pool behind him. aI believe that this should lead us to the spirit pool of the dark eldar wych. We cannot leave it intact, Atreus. We should blow it before we leave this place in order to prevent the souls therein from being presented to the queenas daemonic princess.a Atreus said nothing for a long moment, as he considered his brother-librarianas words. aWhat makes you think that the dark eldar technology is the same as that used on Ulthwe?a It was a practical question, and it suggested that Atreus was convinced by the rest of the story.

aIt is not identical, Atreus, but it is similar enough. aThe technology of these systems is ancient beyond reckoning, and Inquisitor Lord Seishon is confident that both species of alien developed it at the same time, possibly at a time when they lived in co-operation with each other.a The Blood Raven librarian nodded and strode over to the pool behind Ashok. Peering into the swirling, oily image, he looked up at the rest of the team and nodded. The explanation was imperfect but it matched various doc.u.ments that he had read in the past. The sources he had in mind were far from reliable, but at least he could corroborate the current story with some familiar records. No matter what his previous suspicions may have been, at that particular moment, Ashokas word was as good as proof for the scholar warrior.

aLetas get this over with,a he said as he stepped onto the surface of the pool and sunk like a stone, vanishing completely from view. Without hesitation, Ashok dived in after the Blood Raven, and the others followed suit, one by one.

The control room of the t.i.tanicus Rex was a haven of calm. Captain Mordiaas expression showed no signs of emotion as he directed the serfs through their combat manoeuvres. All around the decks and control centres of the gunship, the other Marines in Mordiaas Grey Knights squad were doing the same thing. From the inside, the Rex showed almost no signs of the fury that was being unleashed in the thick, eddying mess of s.p.a.ce in the lashes of the Eye of Terror outside.

As the ancient and venerable vessel had pressed further into the Circuitrine system, tendrils of the warp had started to reach through from the unspeakable, immaterial realms. What had started out as merely wisps of red mist, permeating out of the daemonic dimensions like oil being pushed through a sieve, had thickened and grown more viscous as the t.i.tanicus Rex ploughed through the curdling shapes, whipping them into tentacles and arms that reached out for the vessel, dragging their ethereal fingers across the ageless and sleek hull. The caresses grew more prolonged and l.u.s.tful, but the Rex shrugged them off, repelling them with its warp shields like unwanted and lecherous advances.

The shapes that swam and struggled into existence were barely recognisable as figures or faces. They were little more than suggestions of nightmares or dreams. Hands reached, fingers touched, and tendrils draped themselves against the smooth sides of the t.i.tanicus Rex. But despite the monstrously seductive atmosphere that oozed and tore itself into the strictly governed dimensions of real s.p.a.ce, the guns of the Rex were firing continuously. The forward cannons and the las-arrays spluttered with constant discharge, splintering and dispersing the daemonic images as they were forming, preventing them from solidifying any further.

Through the main viewscreen on the control deck, Mordia could see the streams of fire pouring out of his gunship, ripping through the warp sp.a.w.ned quagmire that was thickening into a soupy consistency before them. For a while, the t.i.tanicus had been picking off the occasional apparition in the manner of a frigate blasting its way through an asteroid field. However, as the concentration of warp energy increased, the lashes of fire power from the gunship were acting more like battering rams or ploughs, clearing a pa.s.sage in the mire for the ship to slip through, enabling the Rex to sail through the predictabilities of real s.p.a.ce for as long as possible.

Despite the relentless and constant firefight that was raging on all sides of the Grey Knightsa vessel, Mordia had not yet come into contact with an identifiable daemonic force or presence. The persistence and quant.i.ty of warp energy bleeding into normal s.p.a.ce was certainly unusual, but it did sometimes happen in this part of the sector, so close to the lashes of the Eye of Terror. The great Eye a a huge, raging warp storm caught on the cusp of reality a was always changing shape and dimensions, and parts of the Circuitrine nebula were swallowed up from time to time. It was for exactly this reason that the outlying worlds were no longer inhabited. Not even the inquisitor lords of the Ordo Malleus could predict or explain the behaviour of the warp storms in this region.

Nonetheless, as the t.i.tanicus Rex ploughed onward through the gathering warp mist, Mordiaas eyes kept flicking back to the warp density readings on one of the terminals. The display had been showing a gradually ascending line for the last hour, reflecting the increasing permeability of reality outside. This meant one of two things to Mordia: either the Eye had shifted orientation and he was now taking his gunship deeper and deeper into it, or there was something ma.s.sive and powerful lurking in the immaterium struggling to break through into material s.p.a.ce a something growing stronger all the time, and just teetering on the very edge of the necessary power.

Taking a couple of strides towards the viewscreen, Mordia brought his face to within a few centimetres of the gla.s.s and peered into the red, curdling mess that lay in wait before his ship. Over his long years of service, Mordia had learnt to trust his well-honed and highly disciplined instincts, and something told him that this was more than just a routine warp mist seeping from the fringes of the swirling Eye. For a split second, he thought that he could see the contours of a beautiful female form haze into focus in the clouds, but it dissipated as quickly as it formed.

aI told you not to return until you had proof, Perceptia.a Hereticus Lord Caesurian was seated in the luxurious padded armchair in her chambers, with her back to the door. She did not rise or turn when the door opened to reveal Perceptia standing in the corridor outside. aIf you have found something, then you had better come in,a she added, issuing her first ever invitation to the bookish and irritating young inquisitor.

Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves and s.n.a.t.c.hing her gla.s.ses off her face so that she wouldnat be tempted to play with them once she had stepped inside, Perceptia moved quietly into the room. As soon as she cleared the threshold, the door slid firmly closed behind her, sealing the chamber. Simultaneously, she thought that she could hear the hum of numerous privacy devices activating all around the room.

Her first step into Caesurianas personal sanctum was like a step into another world. Most of the living quarters on Ramugan were spa.r.s.e, particularly amongst the personnel of the Ordo Hereticus, who could not afford to be seen to be lapsing into hedonism or indulgence. However, Caesurianas rooms were the picture of affluence and comfort. The floor was covered in a deep red, thick pile carpet that cushioned Perceptiaas feet into silence. She had never seen anything like it, and for a moment she felt disorientated as the spongy floor upset her sense of balance. The walls were covered in images and paintings that the inquisitor lord had collected on her various travels. For the first time, Perceptia could see an array of items that might be interpreted as being heretical, had she found them in the possession of anyone else. The elaborate, hand-fashioned deathmask of a Trogeth witch cultist hung in a place of honour on the wall next to the door, positioned so that it was only visible from inside the room.

As she took in the myriad decorations and ornaments around the room, Perceptia let her mind flick back to the two-faced, mutant curator hidden away in the secret depths of the librarium. She realised for the first time that Caesurian was a collector. The older woman had spent the best part of her life charging around the galaxy, punishing heretics and aberrations, but it seemed that she had also been collecting mementoes. She had brought fragments of each heretic back with her and installed them in her own chambers, or in the lowest levels of the librarium. Perceptia had never heard of an inquisitor interpreting her mandate in such a touristic manner before, and she wondered what it all meant.

aYou have a lovely chamber, Lord Caesurian,a hissed Perceptia, her voice betraying her discomfort. She felt as though she had to say something.

aThank you, inquisitor.a Caesurianas voice had lost none of its usual composure; it was deep and velvety, like the carpet. aBut I hope that you did not come here to discuss interior decorating.a aNo, lord. I came I came to ask a question.a It was as difficult to say the words as she had antic.i.p.ated.

aI am sure that I told you not to return without proof of your suspicions,a countered Caesurian smoothly. aI had expected information rather than questions.a aA question is itself a type of information, my lord. You taught me that yourself.a aAh yes, Perceptia the perfect student. I should be very careful what I say to you in future if you are going to remember it all so closely.a Perceptia couldnat tell if the inquisitor lord was smiling; she was still seated in her plush chair, facing the other way. aNevertheless, you are right. What is your question?a aI have been in the librarium since last we spoke, lord. I have found a large number of doc.u.ments connecting senior inquisitors in the Ramugan Ordo Xenos to a number of events in the Circuitrine system. It seems that the Xenos inquisitors have shown interest in that sector for many centuries, my lord. Seishon is not the first.a Perceptia paused, waiting for some kind of response so that she could judge how to continue.

aThis sounds suspiciously like information, young Perceptia. I thought that you wanted to ask a question.a That was not quite the response that she was expecting. aYes, my lord. I am getting to the question. You see,a she continued, nervously twisting the frames of her gla.s.ses in her hands. aYou see, I asked Seye Multinus to survey the doc.u.ments in part of level 67b. As you know, one of the aisles there is dedicated to records about Ordo Xenos confessions. I wondered how many of the confessions would contain mention of Circuitrine a As Perceptia spoke, the inquisitor lordas chair began to rotate very slowly, bringing the older womanas face into view for the first time. Her figure was bathed in shadows but her eyes shone brightly as they inspected the young inquisitor who was standing inside her rooms for the first time.

aContinue,a she said simply.

aYes, my lord.a Despite herself, Perceptia performed a little bow to indicate her respect. Even in the current circ.u.mstances, Caesurian was a formidable and intimidating woman. aI asked Seye to sort the doc.u.ments according to whether they mentioned that system, hoping to find one or two extra sources to corroborate my theory, so that I could come back to you with some more detailed findings. I have to confess that I had very little in the way of a working hypothesis a I wasnat sure exactly what I was looking for. Having read and reread the confession of Lord Herod and matched parts of it against the Legend of Hourian, I had a vague idea that the eldar might be involved somehow.a aAh yes, of course,a said Caesurian with a tone of affirmation. aHourian was set in the Circuitrine system. I had almost forgotten.a As she spoke, the inquisitor lord tilted her head slightly to indicate a large painting that hung on the wall behind Perceptia, on the opposite side of the door from the Trogethian witchas mask.

Perceptia turned her head gingerly, half expecting to find a silent and deadly death cultist standing behind her. Instead, she saw the painting, but its presence on Caesurianas wall sent a whole raft of confused and conflicting emotions crashing through her mind. In the centre of the picture was a near-life-size depiction of Hourian himself. He was crouched onto one knee, on which was balanced the bloodied remains of an eerily beautiful child, half human and half eldar. Hourian was weeping in the foreground while an immense s.p.a.ce battle raged in the background, where the red glow of the distant Eye of Terror dominated the scene.

aWhat was it you wanted to ask, inquisitor?a prompted Caesurian, as though the sight of the painting should have already exploded any questions of reticence.

aSeye discovered that every doc.u.ment in that section of the library contained some kind of mention of the Circuitrine system.a Perceptia paused to reformulate her words. aThat is to say, Seye knew that every doc.u.ment would mention Circuitrine. It seems that he had already been instructed to create an annex dedicated to such files. It seems, in other words, that I am not the first Hereticus inquisitor to investigate along these lines.a aI still cannot hear a question, my dear,a said Caesurian in her characteristically smooth tone. There was nothing defensive in her voice, despite the implied accusations in what Perceptia was saying.

aDid you authorise the creation of that collection, Inquisitor Lord Caesurian?a That was as direct and formal as Perceptia could muster.

aYes, I did, Inquisitor Perceptia.a The answer was immediate and unselfconscious. The unapologetic confidence took Perceptia by surprise. She had expected to have a fight on her hands, trying to extract that information from her one-time mentor. aThen you admit it freely?a aOf course. I am an inquisitor lord of the Ordo Hereticus here on Ramugan. It is my right as well as my duty to ensure that our most sensitive records are kept appropriately ordered and appropriately discreet.a This was not going quite as Perceptia had planned. aThen I have another question, my lord. Why did you request those records to be a.s.sembled into a discreet annex?a aThat is a much better question, my young inquisitor, but it is not one that a lord need answer.a There was a new air of superiority flowing around the chamber, as though Caesurian was enjoying seeing the young inquisitor rail against her own una.s.sailable position. aYou do not yet have enough evidence to force me to answer that question, my dear Perceptia. You have suspicions, yes, and I have told you many times before to trust your instincts. They serve you well. However, the fact that I have a.s.sembled this collection is only as suspicious as the fact that you have also sought to a.s.semble it. I just got there first, many years ago. The difference between our positions, of course, is that you are responding to a concrete event and the atypical actions of Xenos Lord Seishon. I, it seems, had my own reasons for being interested in this system. If your suspicions about Seishon and about me are correct, then Lord Aureliusa valiant Captain Mordia will find the proof you require, for he is already on his way to the Circuitrine system. If, on the other hand, Mordia finds nothing, then you should be aware that levelling accusations of heresy at senior Hereticus and Xenos lords will land you in a great deal of trouble.a aI have made no accusations, my lord,a muttered Perceptia, surprised to hear that the steps of her argument had been so clearly pre-empted by the inquisitor lord.

aOh but you have, my child. And you are right to make such accusations. Your reasoning is sound and your instincts are crisp. Being right, however, is only half the battle. Now you have to demonstrate that you are right. Now it is simply a question of power. I did warn you not to return to me without proof. The warning was for your own good.a Perceptia bowed, acknowledging the talent of her opponent. Caesurian had basically confessed to being involved in whatever relationship the Ordo Xenos had with the eldar in the Circuitrine system, but the inquisitor lord need have no fear of such a confession to her. She was right that Perceptia had insufficient evidence and power to condemn her own mentor, whether she was right or not. Everything now rested on the Grey Knight captain; only he was in a position to discover what was really going on out there.

Turning her back on the inquisitor lord, Perceptia faced the sealed door and waited for it to open to let her out. She waited for what seemed like a long time, expecting at every moment to feel the cold sliver of an a.s.sa.s.sinas blade slip into her back. Antic.i.p.ation was often the worst kind of torture. But then the door slid open smoothly and the young inquisitor swept out into the brightness of the corridor outside; Caesurian had apparently seen no point in terminating the inquisitoras investigation. Insulted, frustrated and inspired, Perceptia pushed her gla.s.ses back into place and rushed off back to the librarium. Perhaps she had overlooked something?

By the time Kruidan spilled out of the portal, the battle was already underway. It seemed that Lelith had antic.i.p.ated their plan, and she was lying in wait in the vast cavern that housed the spirit pool of Sussarkhas Peak. For long centuries the wych queen had been acc.u.mulating the souls of warriors from various species and storing them up for a magnificent sacrifice.