Part 2 (2/2)

Perhaps it was this eventuality for which we have been preparing, Eldressyn, whispered Thaeaakzi into the young seeras mind. Donat be so quick to claim your victory in this council. Eldradas ways are beyond even us.

Eldressyn fell silent, acknowledging the secret words of the elder seer and respecting their wisdom. But in her heart she knew that Ulthwe needed the mon-keigh to win this fight, and she was certain that such a situation could have been avoided if the council had prepared properly for the future. At that moment, Ruhklo seemed like a liability a old, bitter and dark in his soul. She blamed him. It was his fault for filling the council with breaths of cynicism and malice. The very hall itself seemed to quake with his frustrations.

aThe council has prepared Ulthwe for its future as best it could, Eldressyn of Ulthroon,a said Thaeaakzi, smoothing the waters. aThe crisis in the Eye and the darkling raids may be but a stepping stone on the way to a golden sh.o.r.e. The mon-keigh will a.s.sist us, as they promised long ago. It is fortuitous that they are so bound to us now.a aWe cannot trust them, Thaeaakzi of the Emerald Robes,a muttered Bhurolyn as he pulled his sapphire and black cloak around him, as though suddenly cold.

aWe do not need to trust them, Bhurolyn. We just need them to come,a replied Thaeaakzi softly. aAnd so they come.a There was a sudden and brief crack of light in one of the walls. It flashed and then cut its way through the wraithbone, defining a great door as it spread. After a couple of seconds, the door melted away, as though the wraithbone itself had withdrawn into the fabric of the walls around it. A dull, warm light eased through the open archway, mixing into the heavy darkness of the council chamber itself, sending hazes of interference patterns sprinkling through the air.

aMy lords of the Eternal Council,a said Shariele, stooping into a deep bow on the threshold of the hall. The white runes on his black armour glinted in little starbursts as the light washed over him from behind, and his long cloak billowed and fluttered, as though the flow of light carried a breeze in its wake. aI bring greetings from the Undercouncil of Warlocks, and news.a aYou are most welcome, Shariele of the Lost Souls,a replied Thaeaakzi, turning to face the warlock and bowing slightly. aEnter freely a it is your right as much as our pleasure.a She gave the impression of smiling faintly, without even a crease appearing on her smooth face.

Shariele remained in the doorway for a moment, holding his bow for an extra second out of respect for the hall and the seers therein. Then he rose and strode confidently across the patterns of light that swam through the floor beneath his feet. The Emerald Seer unsettled his heart. He had heard many of the stories about her and yet she remained a mystery to him. There was something profoundly different about their souls, and it rendered her almost impenetrable to him. He understood that she had once pa.s.sed through the trials of the s.h.i.+ning Spear, in the past before she had taken up the path of the seer. Then, perhaps a century ago, after Thaeaakzi had become a powerful seer, Ulthwe had done battle with a force of disfigured mon-keigh as they spilled out of the Eye of Terror. At that time, the Temple of the s.h.i.+ning Path had summoned Thaeaakzi back into its sanctum: the templeas ceremonial warlockas mask was calling for her, bellowing her name in tones barely audible to the sensitive eldar ear, yelling her name through the immaterium itself.

Thaeaakzi had returned to her old temple and entered the sanctum, locking herself in the sacred chamber with n.o.body to a.s.sist her and none to witness the events that followed. Days later, she had emerged as the Emerald Seer, bedecked entirely in the green robes that now covered her elegant form. But the warlockas mask lay untouched on the altar in the templeas sanctum a she had refused the call of Khaine and turned her back on the thirst for war that lurked in the souls of all eldar.

Unlike Shariele and the other warlocks, who had each trained as Aspect Warriors before embarking on the long path of the seer, Thaeaakzi had made a conscious and wilful choice not to merge the paths a she had refused to transpose her immense psychic gifts into combative powers. Whilst it was certainly true that not all seers who had trodden the path of the warrior chose to combine the dual-ways into the dark road of the warlock, it was unheard of for one summoned personally by the spirit of Kaela Mensha Khaine to resist the calling. The warlocks of the Undercouncil felt a slight chill in her presence, as though she found them unhealthy, dangerous, or even weak of will. They were certain that the other seers on the Eternal Council did not understand who she was. How could they see the unfathomable strength in her soul?

As he approached the ring of seers, Shariele stopped and bowed once again. The councillors each returned his bow, paying him the courtesy of their respect. He was well known to them all.

aThe communion of the Undercouncil has yielded some worrying results,a began Shariele. aIt appears that the darklings are not our only concern along this time-line.a There was a pause as Shariele awaited the inevitable questions. None came. aThe warlocks have foreseen a force of mon-keigh in the battles of the near future. They stood back to back with darkly clad eldar, poised in blood and treading on a field of our slain kinsmen.a There was a murmur around the room as thoughts of death and doom emanated from the seers and resonated through the psychically conductive wraithbone that encased the chamber. The trails of light in the floor and walls flashed and died with increased intensity.

aThe mon-keigh will be our doom a it is written,a spat Ruhklo, as though Sharieleas words confirmed his fears.

aIt is not written, Karizhariat! Nothing is written, as you well know. We write our future in our choices and in our blood,a snapped Eldressyn, the pristine whiteness of her delicate robes flas.h.i.+ng starkly in the dark atmosphere. aWe will the future with our power.a aWhat else did you see, Shariele?a asked Thaeaakzi softly, ignoring the quarrelling seers at her side. aWas it just the mon-keigh that brought blood into our future?a aNo, Emerald Seer, the darklings were also there, and the corpses were disfigured beyond the wit or inventiveness of the mon-keigh. It was It was Hesperax.a Shariele hesitated before speaking those cursed syllables in the great chambers of council. As the forbidden sounds left his mouth, the room pulsed and lashed with a violence unseen for decades. The ground itself shook, as though repulsed.

The seers sank into silence, shocked that the Undercouncil could see what they could not. It was as though they themselves were blinded to the vision by the violence of its content. The souls of the warlocks walked in darker places, and they would not find the terror of Hesperax so utterly alien. That in itself worried Thaeaakzi.

aSo, the Mistress of Strife has a hand in this?a mused the Emerald Seer, nodding her understanding to Shariele as the hall flashed its own abhorrence. aThis explains the pattern of the darklingsa behaviour. They are taking prisoners for the Wych Queen, so that she might harvest their souls to slake the thirst of her daemonic princess. We have encountered this foe before,a she said, turning back to face the other seers, her eyes slightly out of focus, as though remembering something from long ago.

aYes, and we did not need the mon-keigh then,a sneered Ruhklo.

aTimes change,a answered Eldressyn sharply, her presence representing vivid proof of her words.

aIf the Wych Queen is collecting eldar souls, she must be seeking to manifest an agent of the Satin Throne,a reasoned Bhurolyn, his deductions adding an edge of anxiety to his words.

aLelithas ambitions are greater than that,a said Thaeaakzi, shocking Shariele by using the Wych Queenas personal name. aShe would not content herself with underlings, not even those of a daemon G.o.d.a For a moment, the Emerald Seer seemed lost in thought. Then she turned to Shariele abruptly. aWarlock, we must prevent the loss of any more Ulthwe souls to this darkling monster. As you are aware, this craftworld, indeed our very species, cannot afford to lose any more of its own. Worse than this, stolen souls cast into the currents of shaaiel will serve to lead the minions of the Great Enemy a Slaanesh a to our doorstep. We may presume that this explains the current, unusual discharge from the Eye. The darkling raids must be brought to an end. Do you understand, Shariele of the Lost Souls?a aI understand,a replied Shariele simply, bowing his head. aI can vow to be at the service of this council, as I have done many times before, but I can offer no promises of success, my lady.a He paused. aI do not think that Ulthwe has the resources to win this fight.a aYou will not be alone, warlock. The mon-keigh have been summoned to provide aid. A small squadron of their best will be here presently. You will help them to help us, Shariele.a A long moment pa.s.sed in silence as the warlock fought against his instinctive revulsion. aIf it is the will of the council,a he replied, before turning and sweeping out of the great hall.

The black Deathwatch frigate, Lance of Darkness, was one of a select few Nova-cla.s.s frigates that had been specially refitted and based at the Watchtower Fortress near Ramugan in case the Deathwatch needed to act independently of other Imperial forces. It roared through the void of real s.p.a.ce, not daring to dip into the maelstrom of the warp so close to the Eye of Terror, where the warp currents were torrentially violent and unpredictable.

In the vicinity of the Eye, even the relatively predictable s.p.a.ceways of mundane reality were treacherous. The warp could rip through the fabric of s.p.a.ce and suck a s.h.i.+p back into the clutches of salivating daemons. Pockets of violent energy could erupt like ma.s.sive proximity mines, exploding and showering pa.s.sing vessels with fragments of concentrated Chaos; and s.p.a.ce itself seemed to warp and s.h.i.+ft, twisting the s.p.a.ce lanes and bending the light of the stars themselves.

Octaviusa team raced through the lashes of the Eye of Terror, engulfed in an eerie red mist that seemed to seep through millions of tiny perforations in reality itself. Warning klaxons were sounding continuously, as though the s.h.i.+pas machine-spirit thought that it had slipped into the warp without a Navigator to guide it. The mist appeared to be a haze of warp energy, too dispersed to penetrate or damage the Lance of Darkness, but dense enough to trick the vesselas sensors. The cloud was suspended in a bizarre middle realm between the material and immaterial dimensions.

aCaptain Octavius,a said Sergeant Pelias, stooping through the doorframe at the entrance to the control room. As he straightened up, he nodded smartly towards the hooded figure of Librarian Ashok, noting with surprise that he was still without armour, but then the sergeant turned his attention directly to Octavius. Aside from the pilot-servitor and a skeleton crew of serfs, the three Marines were alone in the low-ceilinged s.p.a.ce. Octavius was gazing out of the main viewscreen. He turned to greet Pelias as the rugged Black Consul Marine presented himself.

aAh, Sergeant Pelias. Our arrival time is estimated as one hour. Please ensure the team is ready for our landing. It would not do to be ill-prepared when we meet our new a.s.sociates.a The sergeant nodded, but the grimace that snapped across his stubble speckled and scar laced face betrayed his true feelings about the etiquette owed to the aliens. aAs you wish, captain,a he growled. He turned sharply and began to duck back under the doorframe. As he did so, a series of metal implants in the back of his neck and head glinted in the dim light.

aThe eldar gave him those,a muttered Ashok in barely audible tones, after the sergeant had vanished back into the body of the s.h.i.+p. The librarian knew that Octavius had noticed the metal plates.

aI am aware of the sergeantas history, Ashok,a said Octavius, turning back to the viewscreen without facing the librarian. No matter how many times it happened, he could still not shake the feeling that Ashokas abilities to read his thoughts const.i.tuted a discourtesy. He even wondered whether they compromised his command.

aReally?a Ashokas low, quiet voice sounded doubtful. aDo you know what they did to him?a aHe has never spoken of it.a There was an edge of angst in Octaviusa voice, as though he was drawing on painful memories. aI would not ask him to.a aIt is best that he does not,a said Ashok carefully.

For a moment Octavius wondered whether Ashok could see the sergeantas memories. As he gazed out of the viewscreen at the dim star that they were racing towards, he wondered what it would be like to know the memories of others. He wondered whether it was as natural to Ashok as peering into the eyes of a man and seeing the courage in his soul.

Octavius did not have to look into Peliasa mind to see what had happened to him. He had been part of the same Deathwatch mission against the Biel-Tan eldar all those years before. Octavius had watched helplessly as the aliens had dragged the unconscious Black Consul into their hovering tank after the kill-team had first made planetfall. At the end of the campaign, when the planet was finally under the complete control of the eldar and the failed Deathwatch mission was being extracted, the eldar had thrown Pelias back to them, like a fish that was too worthless to be kept.

The wounds on his neck and head, which had been inflicted on the Black Consul during his captivity, had been healed perfectly by the eldar before they returned him, but the Ordo Xenos had reopened them all to make sure that nothing had been left inside the sergeantas skull. The metal plates that now covered Peliasa neck were testament to the inability of the Inquisitionas surgeons to match the skill of the eldar. As for the details of what the eldar had done to him to inflict the wounds in the first place, not even the skills of Inquisitor Lord Guerilian had been able to extract them. However, the official mission report contained reference to an intelligence leak in the Deathwatch team as one of the factors that contributed to the failure of the mission. Pelias was not named in the report, but Octavius suspected that the eldar had been inside the sergeantas mind.

aHe is healed. There is no threat now,a stated Octavius simply. aPelias is a strong Marine and a first-cla.s.s sergeant. He is an a.s.set to our team.a Wounds like that never heal, Octavius. He harbours unspeakable pain and hatred in his mind. He may never offer his back to our eldar friends. The words eased into Octaviusa mind like a whisper.

A s.h.i.+ver thrilled down the captainas spine and, at first, he thought that Ashok had overstepped the line. He spun to face the librarian, who remained in the shadows against the wall, his face hidden beneath the folds of his hood, with his eyes glowing faintly.

aI felt it too, captain,a said Ashok, stepping up to Octaviusa shoulder and staring out into s.p.a.ce. aWhere is Ulthwe?a he asked.

The captain took Ashokas innocence at his word and without question. The Angels Sanguine librarian was almost a complete mystery to him, but he had learnt to trust his judgement during the campaign against the tyranids on Herodian IV. Somehow, the librarian always seemed to be just outside the team, even just out of the reach of his command. But whatever else he was, Ashok was a peerless and trustworthy warrior.

aWe donat have exact co-ordinates. It moves continuously and not always through real s.p.a.ce. Our rendezvous point appears to be in the vicinity of that dim star,a explained Octavius pointing.

Footsteps sounded behind them as one of the Marines from the transportation hold entered the control room.

aHe is here. He is alert to our presence, captain,a reported Atreus, the Blood Ravens librarian, striding into the control room alongside the other two to look out into the red-misted starscape ahead.

Octavius nodded a greeting, but Ashok did not take his eyes from the screen.

aWho is here?a asked the captain, addressing Atreus.

aUlthran,a replied Ashok without turning. aThe eldar witch lord.a aHis mind fills this quadrant. It is like a giant sensor web stretched out from Ulthwe itself. He knows that we are approaching,a continued Atreus nodding and searching the myriad stars for some sign of the ma.s.sive craftworld. aIt must be here,a he insisted. aWe should be able to see it.a Octavius nodded, realising before the team had even reached Ulthwe why Lord Seishon had insisted on the presence of two librarians on this mission. aIt is probably on the other side of that large, dim star,a he suggested, pointing at the light that he had been considering with Ashok. The colour-s.h.i.+ft affected by the mist made it look like a red giant a a superma.s.sive star on the verge of death.

There was a moment of silence.

aThatas not a star,a said Ashok in a slow whisper.

aThatas Ulthwe,a agreed Atreus.

The lowest levels of Ulthwe were barely lit. There was just a faint pulse of light easing through the structure of the corridors, like capillaries in a bodyas extremities. Over the millennia, the eldar of Ulthwe had become accustomed to the darkness, and their eyes had developed sensitivities that found bright light shocking and even offensive. Theirs was a world of shadow and subtlety.

Many of the craftworldas greatest artists lived in the murky underworld. Trekhulir of the Glittering Dark, one of Ulthweas most famed wraithsmiths, was reputed to have refused dozens of invitations to visit the sparkling heights of the upper levels. He excused himself on the basis that his work required him to cultivate the shadows; exposure to bright light would blind him to the subtleties of tone and shade. He explained that it was only in the darkness that true beauty could be found.

The cra.s.s, brashness of bright light was the domain of the clumsy, young races of the galaxy a the tau and even the mon-keigh craved the light. For the eldar, the half-light of the shadows should be home. Even more than the other craftworlds, Ulthwe had embraced this aesthetic as though it were an indisputable aspect of their existence.

Even on Ulthwe, however, the eldar path pa.s.sed along many different roads. The nature of the eldar soul remained infinitely complex and multifarious. Darkness was not the only aspect that found a home in the labyrinthine corridors of the ma.s.sive craftworld. s.h.i.+ning like a beacon of purity in the very deepest levels, the Temple of the s.h.i.+ning Path radiated an entirely different aesthetic. The temple was a glorious construction of light, as though built from the substance of the stars themselves. Its crystalline walls refracted the light from inside into myriad colours, rendering it into a burst of brilliance, like a pearl lost in the depths of an oceanic dark.

The Aspect Warriors of the s.h.i.+ning Spear, bestriding their s.h.i.+mmering white jetbikes, flashed through the underworld of Ulthwe, policing incursions and raids. They were objects of marvel, fear and repulsion amongst the various cla.s.ses of eldar that lived in those levels. The s.h.i.+ning Spears brought dazzling light into the darkest realms, transforming the spirit of Ulthwe for brief moments and in tiny places as they sped through.

It was a small temple, especially compared with the ma.s.sive temple complex of the Dark Reapers, which was based thousands of metres above in the upper reaches of Ulthwe, where it complemented the atmosphere of the craftworld with its sinister blacks and dull, bone whites. Very few eldar chose to tread the path of the s.h.i.+ning Spear when their souls started to hear the whispering call of Kaela Mensha Khaine. Most, on Ulthwe at least, chose to immerse themselves in the shadowy mystery of the Reapers, transforming themselves into manifestations of Khaine in his darkest guise as the destroyer.

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