by C. S. Goto
'We did fight, my lord. We fought until this gathering was all that remained of our once glorious army. We fought until our lords were dead and our children were starving. We fought until there was no place on all of Kaelor that would provide us with shelter. We fought until even the ranger outcasts would not look at us for fear that they would be visited by the wrath of the Teirtu. We did fight, my lord, until we could fight no more, but without Bedwyr... without any of the Ansgar line still amongst us, there was only ever hope in the past, not in the future. We were defeated, my lord.' There was a commotion in the darkness, through the trees beyond the clearing. It was the subtle sound of quietly rushing feet. They sounded hurried and careless, as though they had been pushed beyond silence by unusual and urgent haste. Without any sign or word, the eldar in the gathering were on their feet and melting into the darkness. In an instant, the temple steps were empty. The clearing held only the lingering scent of umbhala incense and the faint psychic echo of the choir's song. Finding himself suddenly alone, Scilti determined to remain in the clearing. Whatever was coming, he was a sire of Ansgar and these were his domains. None had more right than he to be there. He would move for nobody. He would not hide in the heart of his own homelands.
After a few moments, a single figure burst out of the tree line. It was moving at speed, as though being chased by Maugan Ra himself. Even from the middle distance and even in the near darkness of the clearing, Scilti could see that the eldar runner was injured. The figure's gait was uneven, as though it was running merely to prevent itself from collapsing onto its face, and, as it drew rapidly nearer, Scilti could see the slick reflection of blood coating the female's abdomen and leg. The runner saw Scilti at last, and almost at once her strength deserted her. She angled towards him, stumbling and staggering, tripping forwards and sliding to a halt just in front of him. He sat, cross-legged where he had been listening to the choir and talking with Khukulyn only moments before, unmoved and unmoving, letting the female's head crash up against his legs. Her eyes were wild and pain was dancing in their depths. Her wounds were deep and severe. Most of the musculature of her left leg had been shredded and there was a chunk of abdomen missing on the same side. The exit wounds were on the front, and Scilti realised immediately that this was a scout that had been shot as she was running away from her enemies. They are coming. Guardians from the Reach; they are coming.
That was all she managed. Then her eyes opened a little wider and she died. As though on cue, the faint noise of dozens of feet dashing through the forest zone drifted into the clearing. They were close, and closing quickly. Without looking around, Scilti knew that Khukulyn and the others were just out of sight. He could not tell whether they would stand with him, but he could feel their gazes on him. They wanted to know what he would do. Climbing to his feet, Scilti stooped and picked up the fallen scout. He carried her up the temple steps and laid her in front of the crescent doors, noticing for the first time that two umbhala shafts were protruding from them. He unzipped the blue and silver cloak from the dead body and fastened it over one of his shoulders, letting it hang next to the blood red warp-pack that marked him as a Warp Spider. Then, with determined slowness, he walked back down the steps and took up position in the very centre of the clearing, facing the direction of the oncoming attackers. Standing alone in the crimson armour of the Warp Spiders, with an Ansgar cloak fluttering at his side, Scilti waited for them to come.
AS LHIR STEPPED forwards with the body cradled in his arms, covered in his own cloak, Ahearn could not help but think of the way that Lady Ione had been draped in those colours so recently. Behind Lhir came Uisnech Anyon, one of the elder Knavir of the Ohlipsean, with the aging Yuthran Seer Triptri Paraq at his side. 'Forgive me,' muttered Lhir as he laid Kerwyn on the table at which Ahearn, Cinnia and Celyddon had sat drinking earlier. It had been cleared and cleaned perfectly, so that its surface shone. Then the Guardian stepped back, not wanting to breach the etiquette of the court by standing between the farseer and his son for longer than was absolutely necessary. He left his cloak covering Kerwyn as a shroud, wanting one of the others to make the decision about who was going to remove it. Very slowly, Ahearn shuffled unsteadily towards the table, clicking his gnarled staff on the polished floor with particular weight, as though unsure of his balance. He paused for a moment, standing next to the head of the table, staring at the cloth as though it were a precious relic. The others stood in silence. The farseer sighed sadly. With a slow nodding motion, Ahearn blinked his eyes and imagined the shroud being pulled back to reveal Kerwyn's gaunt, rotting and eyeless face. He could see the emaciation of the chest, and the dull, lifeless waystone that still rested against it, attached to the ornate chain that Ahearn had presented to his son after he had passed through the Ritual of Tuireann.
It was bad enough to see the images of his nightmares in his mind, but Ahearn felt a compulsion to look on the ugliness of his son with his real eyes. Something inside him called out for ruination and blood, and there was a part of him that suddenly found the pristine perfection of his palatial surroundings offensive. It was as if a ghost of darkness or a tiny droplet of the blood of Khaine in
С. S. Goto « Eldar Prophecy»
his veins had suddenly awakened. With a violent and concentrated slowness, he reached forwards with his staff and hooked its tip under the makeshift, blood soaked shroud. He pushed it back, revealing Kerwyn's putrid, decaying body fraction by fraction. The fleck of darkness in his eldar dhamashir-soul thirsted silently at the horror of the sight. When you found him... Ahearn began, trying to think of a suitable question. The conclusions were too obvious to need
interrogation. He realised suddenly that Iden had not been as politically naive as Ahearn had thought him when he had banished Kerwyn.
'He was in the Coolant Wastes, radiance. He had been... abandoned,' said Lhir, bowing his head with a sense of responsibility. Who?
'Radiance... It seems likely that the Glimmering Kerwyn took his own life. There was no sign of a struggle, and he had sanitised his space, despite the unseemliness of the surroundings.' Lhir paused. 'Radiance, I-' You did your duty to your house, honourable Lhir of Teirtu. The blame is not yours, and I will not forget that you discovered this
horror as a duty to me. Your sense of duty does you great credit, and your allegiance shows wisdom... and taste. You gave my son
your own cloak when he had nothing.
Ahearn reached forwards, scooped Kerwyn's way-stone out of the decomposing flesh, and then folded the cloak over the empty body once again. He turned and shuffled back over to the cabinet against the far wall, scraping his staff heavily against the floor and leaving a little trail of his son's tissue. The others watched him, unsure of how to respond. In the background, they could hear a faint cheer of pleasure coming from Iden's celebrations, which Uisnech had just left. The Harlequins had probably just reached the climax of the Cycle of the Avatar, where Khaine, the war god, slays the ancient eldar hero, Eldanesh, whose blood then runs from the bloody-handed god's hands for all eternity.
Radiance. You must not let this pass. Uisnech turned to face the farseer. He watched him carefully clean Kerwyn's waystone,
place it into a small cloth bag and then slide it into a compartment in the cabinet. I have always stood behind you, Aheam. I was one of the only Knavir to take up arms in the House Wars. I stood under your banner, and commanded your Guardians in your
name while you remained in the Sentrium. I did not do this for Iden Teirtu. I did this for the Rivalin Farseer and for Kaelor. Too
long have you permitted that styhx-tann to rule your craftworld. Perhaps your son was correct to place his faith elsewhere?
Ahearn showed no sign of listening. He quietly poured himself a glass of Edreacian from the smoking carafe in the main section of the cabinet, and then took a long mouthful. Turning the glass thoughtfully in his hand, the farseer turned to face the others. You would have me turn against House Teirtu? There was a pause. And you would say this i
n front of this Teirtu Guardian?
'My radiance, Lord Anyon is right,' said Lhir, dropping to one knee as though making a pledge. 'I cannot stand for this abomination. Iden has wronged the Rivalin dynasty, and he has wronged Kaelor. I am no longer his to command.' You are too good for this world, Lhir of the Radiant Star, replied Ahearn with a weak smile.
Iden already suspects that you are in league with the Warp Spiders, my radiance, offered Triptri. Its suggests that he assumed you
had already discovered the truth about Kerwyn, or, perhaps, that he feared you might see some justice in your son's cause.
Perhaps this is the time to bring his fears out of the realms of conjecture and into the present?
Looking from the Knavir courtiers, Uisnech and Triptri, to the kneeling and immaculate Guardian, Lhir, Ahearn felt a smile creeping across his face. Lhir was like a breath of fresh air in the foul stench of House Teirtu. Of course he aspired to more refined and better things. He had just needed a little guidance. It never ceased to amaze Ahearn how simply an eldar soul could be tempted to change its path. Somehow, events had conspired to make this devoted and dutiful Teirtu Guardian drop to one knee and beseech the farseer to call on Teirtu's enemies for aid. A good seer should have seen this coming. You may be right, each of you. Lhir, can I ask you for one further duty? Ahearn wondered how far this valiant young Guardian
was willing to go. Perhaps some good could come out of this after all. 'Of course, my radiance.' Lhir didn't look up. Go to the domains of Ansgar and explain what we have discovered. Ask the Warp Spiders to come to the aid of the Rivalin
dynasty, as once they thought they assisted our ancient lineage in allegiance to my son. Tell them that we seek to remove the
Teirtu from their privileges in the Sentrium.
Lhir flinched visibly at the instructions. The life-long conditioning of hate and distrust towards the Ansgar and the Warp Spiders riddled his thoughts, but he held his will in check. Give them this, added Ahearn, unclipping his cloak and tossing it over to him.
Lhir looked up and caught the luxurious fabric. He folded it to his chest as though it were a holy relic. 'It will be as you wish, radiance.' He bowed more deeply, touching his forehead to the ground before rising and striding out of the chamber. THEY WERE DIFFICULT to see at first, emerging from the thick trees in the half-light of the down-phase. Their deep green cloaks served as excellent camouflage, and their movements were naturally in tune with their surroundings, like predatory animals in their native habitat, and they were silent as faerulh. Scilti simply waited. He stood at the foot of the steps of the Warp Spider Temple in the middle of the clearing, gleaming like a crimson beacon for all to see. His deathspinner was cradled lightly between his hands, like a baby, and beneath his fearsome helmet his eyes shone with excitement.
After a few moments, the attackers realised that they had been seen and that any pretence at stealth was a waste of effort. Instead, they emerged out of the tree line and formed into single file along it, as though they were part of the foliage. There were, perhaps, two dozen of them, each marked out of the shadows by the brief burst of gold from the serpent mark on their chests. There was no announcement and no battle cry. None of the Guardians stepped forward from the Teirtu line to declare itself to its foe. The Rituals of Commencement were simply ignored, as though they had no place in this fight. Scilti realised immediately that
С. S. Goto « Eldar Prophecy»
the House of Teirtu would deny that it ever happened, or perhaps the crafty Iden would declare that the Warp Spiders or the residue of the Ansgar had risen up against them and attacked the Guardians unprovoked. The Warp Spiders should not have moved against Teirtu at the Rivalin Gates. It was a mistake. The vengeance of the Zhogahn
will be swift and terrible. The suffering of House Ansgar has not yet begun. Lord Iden has shown great mercy, but that mercy ends
here.
Scilti could not identify the source of the thoughts. It was as though they flowed out of the Guardians en masse, rolling over him like a wave. For a few moments he considered a repost. He wanted to tell them that they were mistaken, that Aingeal had meant only to pay her last respects to the beloved Lady Ione, but he knew that these soldiers were neither empowered nor predisposed to negotiate.
Is this really all that is left? One paltry Warp Spider to defend the domain?
This time the mocking thought came from an identifiable source, from an individual in the centre of the line, emboldened by Scilti's apparent reticence.
Unseen inside his helmet, Scilti grinned in response. Without a moment's hesitation, he clicked his warp-pack, vanishing from the clearing like a suddenly extinguished flame, leaving a wisp of sha'iel like glittering smoke in the shade. There was an instant of confusion amongst the Guardians as they tried to find their bearings. The clatter of shuriken catapults being braced and snatched from side to side rattled through the half-light. Then there was a shriek. It gurgled sickly and then broke into a shrill scream. It was followed quickly by a dull, heavy sound, like a dead body slumping to the ground.
The Guardians didn't fire a single shot. They saw their comrade fall from his position in the centre of their line. They saw the blood pouring out of the multiple wounds that had suddenly appeared in his chest; but they had not seen anything happen. There was another cry. This time from one end of the line. It was cut short into a sudden hiss, as though a throat had been slit. Then another Guardian fell forwards into the dirt, blood gushing from a gaping wound across its neck. The others turned instantly, just in time to see a glimmer of sha'iel dissipate from just inside the tree-line. They turned, opening up with their shuriken catapults and cannons, unleashing a hail of monomolecular projectiles into the shadowy greenery, shredding the plants mercilessly.
At exactly that instant, Scilti jumped back into the material realm, leaping back into the middle of the clearing where he had started. For a moment, he let the blood drip quietly from the tips of the powerblades that ran along his forearms. He inspected them with impressed satisfaction, as though they were new toys that he had been testing. The blood thrilled him. Looking up at the Guardians, he saw that most of them had turned their aggression into the forest, presumably thinking that he had been attacking their line from behind. The short-sighted fools, he snarled, realising the violent superiority of the multidimensional thinking of the Warp Spiders for the first time. Without hesitation, he lifted his deathspinner and squeezed it into life, unleashing floods of lethal fragments in a wide arc, dragging the rapidly discharging weapon across the confused line of Guardians, peppering their armour with clouds of pain. Then, as they snapped their attention back into the clearing Scilti powered up his warp-pack and blinked out of existence, leaving the Teirtu tracking their weapons uselessly through the empty glade. A moment later he was among them, standing in the middle of the line as though he were a Guardian himself. In the time it took those next to him to register his presence, he had punched a blade through the neck of one and had cut another in two with a rapid spin from his gun. Dropping suddenly to his knees to break the line of sight, Scilti left his deathspinner firing through the line to his left, shredding the legs of two more Guardians before something struck him from behind, knocking him forwards onto his face.
He rolled instinctively, but he was not used to the presence of the warp-pack and his roll was ineffective, leaving him lying on his back like a stranded spider. He lashed out with his arms, throwing his weight over to the side in an attempt to right himself, but he couldn't do it.
Above him, one of the Guardians crunched his foot down against his chest, pinning him helplessly to the ground. He could hear the others gathering around for the execution, and he cursed his own stupidity. This was his fault. His arrogance had gotten the better of him yet again. Only he would believe that he could take on more than twenty Teirtu Guardians on his own. The Guardian above him lowered the barrel of his catapult and hooked it under Scilti's helmet, prying it off to reveal the young Warp Spider's
face. There was a moment of pause, as though the Guardian wanted to impact a dramatic gesture, and then it placed the barrel of the weapon deliberately between Scilti's eyes. The Warp Spider determined that he would not flinch. He would not close his eyes. He would die with his eyes fixed on his enemy, so that they might remember his fury for the rest of their days. As he stared up at his executioner, he heard a shout and then a rallying cry. Shots suddenly erupted from all around them, clinking and ricocheting off the Guardians' armour. He only needed that instant of distraction. Scilti lashed up with his powerblades, hacking through the barrel of his executioner's gun and then following through into his legs. The Guardian's weapon exploded in his hands even as his legs gave way and he started to crumple to the ground. Before the body could slump down on top of Scilti, the Warp Spider blinked away, reappearing on his feet about twenty paces into the forest. The tree line was alive with fire. Warp Spiders from the temple were everywhere at once, blinking in and out of the materium like flashing lights, hacking at the Guardians with blades and mowing through them with deathspinners. They were not alone. The ragged Guardians of House Ansgar were there too. Khukulyn was a blur of motion as he danced and spun his twin witchblades through intricate and lethal patterns, slicing one of the Guardians into six neat, evenly sized pieces. He turned and nodded at Scilti, his eyes glinting with the exhilaration of the fight and his unusual blades, which had been awarded to him long ago by the Seer House of Yuthran in special recognition of his prowess at the two-sword style, flashed with the promise of death.
С. S. Goto « Eldar Prophecy»
After only a few moments it was over, and the Teirtu Guardians of the Reach lay dead on the edge of the forest of Ansgar. Not a single Warp Spider or son of Ansgar was as much as injured. A movement in the foliage behind him made Scilti turn, snapping his deathspinner up before him instinctively. There was a heavy shadow in the darkness, standing upright and unafraid, its position exposed completely and deliberately. This was not the stealthy approach of an assassin, nor the frenzied last stand of an embattled foe. Scilti held his fire as the figure approached, but he did not lower his aim. The approaching eldar was in the colours of Teirtu. 'Waгр Spider and son of Ansgar,' said Lhir, dropping down onto one knee when he was close enough to perform a formal greeting. He threw his deep green, Teirtu cloak over one shoulder in a mark of respect, and then he held out the cloak that the farseer had given him, folded neatly into a perfect bundle. 'I have come as swiftly as I could, but I see that the Zhogahn's messengers are fleeter of foot than am I.' There was a tension in his voice that betrayed his anger about the slaughter of his kin. I bring word from the radiant farseer, and I bring his colours as a gift. He requests your aid, Warp Spider. He asks that you liberate him from the control of the Zhogahn. He asks that you fight in his name.'