by C. S. Goto
stepped aside, revealing the hunched and aging form of Ahearn Rivalin, who shuffled past her towards the Warp Spiders with his staff clicking unsteadily against the polished floor. ON THE HOLOGRAPHIC optic-enhancer in the stomach of his Falcon tank just outside the Ula Pass, Iden saw it happen, as though in slow motion. He had filtered out the melee that had raged throughout the narrow corridor of the pass, and had focused tightly on the duel between his perfect Yseult and the warpling Scilti, spawn of the Ansgar. He had watched his champion prowling around her prey like a raptor, keeping her distance until the choice moment and then swooping in with her blade and leaving her mark. He could see that Scilti was scarred and bleeding copiously. It should have been only a matter of time. Just as Yseult had made her final move, dismembering the Ansgar and stepping inside his pathetic counter, knocking him to the ground and pinning him like a hopeless wretch, Iden had watched in confusion as a girl child had wandered onto the screen of his viewer. The stranger was little more than a childling, shaven-headed like a tyro of Yuthran, but dressed in the flowing, sumptuous and simple blues of Ansgar. She was like a ghost of something long forgotten, and she drew his eyes like a black-hole draws light. She was a disarming moment of peace in the storm. Ela? The name came to him like a repressed fear. He had not seen the abomination since Bedwyr's execution in the Plaza of Vaul, but his certainty grew with each of her tiny, shuffling steps. What was she doing there? Why wasn't she dead? Why wouldn't one of the Guardians just snap the tiny aberration in two and rid him of her? Then it happened. Yseult had raised her diresword for the deathblow, aiming its point directly into the neck of the fallen and pinned Scilti, but just at the last moment, Iden's champion had seen little Ela. She had paused for too long, somehow transfixed by the infant abomination. The hesitation had given Scilti just enough time to wrest his remaining arm free and plunge its blades up into Yseult's stomach.
Although he couldn't hear Yseult's cry, Iden himself screamed. He watched her rock back under the treacherous thrust and then drop her magnificent diresword. It fell slowly from her hands, as though reluctant to be parted from the grip of such a worthy warrior, but then it clattered down onto the deck next to Scilti. The Warp Spider ripped his gauntlet out of the marshal's gut, pulling long trails of tissue and blood out with it, until Yseult simply collapsed on top of him. She was dead.
Iden screamed and wailed in disbelief. The last time he had fought in the Ula Pass he had lost more warriors than he had thought possible, and Bedwyr had somehow managed to emerge out of the other side of the maelstrom that he had unleashed in that supernatural corridor. He would not witness a repeat of that failure. All gun emplacements open fire. His thoughts flashed instantaneously into the minds of the gunners in his Falcon, but also up to
the Guardians that occupied the elevated gun platforms above the pass. They had been under the orders of Marshal Yseult to contain the engagement so that it could be fought with appropriate honour, but they possessed the means to end it once and for all if necessary.
Zhogahn, your own Guardians are still in the pass.
С. S. Goto « Eldar Prophecy»
Leave nothing alive. His fury overcame his reason. Nothing. The etiquette of the engagement meant nothing. The glory of a
skilfully won victory meant nothing. All that mattered was blood and death. Kill them all. As he stared in furious, maniacal disbelief at the holographic projection of the optic-enhancer, he saw the little abomination Ela'Ashbel turn from Yseult's corpse and look up at him, as though suddenly aware that he was looking down at them from else- where. For an instant, he looked into her radiant sapphire eyes and saw horror itself. Why had Ione saved that sleehr-child?
С. S. Goto « Eldar Prophecy»
PART TWO:
METASTASIS
CHAPTER SIX: NAOIS
IT LOOKED AS though the Temple of the Warp Spiders had been bombed. The ornate, carved walls were cracked and crumbling. Lumps of masonry had slumped into piles around the base, crushing foliage and covering much of the surrounding greenery in dust. The central spire that had once risen out of the polygonal edifice was riddled with rifts and cracks, and it appeared to be on the point of collapsing. A thick, scaly layer of crystals clung to the spire, as though keeping it together. Beneath them, the leg- endary crescent doors of the Lhykosidae hung open and unguarded. They pivoted on their broken hinges, like little more than barn doors.
Even the steps that ran down into the clearing in front of the temple were lined with fractures and fissures. Gouges had been taken out of the metallic decking, and shards lay strewn throughout the clearing. Is this Iden's work? The farseer was genuinely shocked. I had no idea.
Ahearn Rivalin emerged out of the sleek, low transport with difficulty, hanging his weight off Adsulata on one side and another of the Warp Spiders on the other. Exarch Aingeal was already ahead of them, standing out in the clearing and staring up at her decimated temple. For the briefest of moments, she wondered whether the Zhogahn really had the power to do this, so deep into the outer realms and so far from the Styhxlin Perimeter. No, farseer, she replied at last. We cannot lay this at Iden's feet... at least not directly.
Without waiting for the farseer, the exarch sprang up the ruined steps and rushed through the crescent doors. She could feel that something had changed. It was as though the temple had done this to itself. The atmosphere was charged with power, fizzling between the molecules and atoms in the air, giving the whole scene an electric thrill that filled the exarch with anxiety. She realised suddenly that her ancient temple had exploded from the inside out, as though something inside had expanded beyond its confines and burst through the edifice like a spider fighting its way out of a cocoon. It felt as though something had been transformed. The energy of the temple itself had been assimilated into a metastasis, leaving something other than the shrine in the place where the shrine should be. As she passed through the wrecked doors, Aingeal slid to an abrupt halt. In the light-streaked shadows inside, a vast complex of glittering, crystal threads were spread into a series of concentric spirals that rose towards the centre of the once immaculate domed ceiling. They formed a breathtaking funnel-web that made the famous threads of the Shrine of Fluir-haern appear random, paltry and flimsy. The huge expanse of shimmering wraithweb encompassed the entire arena, blocking access to all the other corridors into the interior of the temple, and opening up into a massive funnel-mouth just inside the threshold of the shattered crescent doors. It drew the eye naturally up to the narrow focus of the funnel, where the body of an eldar warrior was held suspended like the captured prey of some monstrous spider. Beyond the outstretched body, Aingeal could just see the veins of the dome glowing with energy and life.
For many long years, the Exarch of the Warp Spiders had felt no fear. Indeed, immunity to fear of enemies was one of the effects of her ascension to the position of an Exarch of Khaine. Death no longer held any mysteries for her. However, staring up into the incredible web, Aingeal felt an uncomfortable and destabilising mixture of emotions. She was in awe of her own Aspect, as she saw what her temple had generated with its own essential and unbridled will. There was a flicker of resentment as she realised that it had never done anything like this for her, its chosen agent on Kaelor, its dedicated exarch. There was also the unfamiliar and frosty touch of fear, wisping around her waystone like an icy breeze. What creature of the warp had been given life in this realm? The Arachnir Adsulata appeared at Aingeal's shoulder, supporting the farseer's weight as he shuffled up the steps. They were curious to see what had brought the impressive figure of the exarch to such an abrupt halt on the threshold of her temple. Adsulata gasped. The Lhykosidae?
Aingeal offered no response, for the question had been turning over and over in her own mind, tumbling like a hot coal through snow. She didn't want to touch it.
For a long moment, Ahearn said nothing at all. He surveyed the ruination of the temple and inspected the bizarre wraith-crystal webs that coated everything within, like a delicate la
yer of frost. Then he turned and looked back out over the steps, through the clearing outside and into the dwindling forest beyond. There were stains on the ground and in the foliage where blood had been spilt recently, and the greenery was already crisping into toxic browns. He had expected blooms and unusually beautiful creatures speckled through heavenly glades, mirroring the natural splendour of the lost domains of the Eldar Knights, the Knavir of legend. Despite himself, his mouth curled into a snarl of displeasure. Why have you brought me to this? he asked. I cannot live in this... mess.
С. S. Goto « Eldar Prophecy»
The Warp Spiders ignored him. They were staring up into the funnel-web, watching the suspended and intertwined body in the eye begin to move. They could only see its back as its arms and legs flexed slowly. It turned on an axis, rotating as though free of the effects of gravity, and then it bent its neck back so that its face pointed down towards the doors. Its silver eyes flashed down from amongst the glittering scales.
Naois. Aingeal put a name to the creature suspended in the dome of the temple. The comfort of putting a name to the unknown
was cold. There was a horror in the recognition that she hadn't known since she had felt the inexorable calling of Khaine. We should not have left him alone. It was a confession, as though she had known what would happen.
Adsulata was struck with awe. Naois? Naois is the Lhykosidae? There was a long silence as Naois glowered down at them from his position in the eye of his funnel-web. All the light in the crumbling temple seemed to emanate from his silver eyes, as though all other sources had been extinguished or were somehow irrelevant. He drew in their gazes as though he were drawing prey to bait. He held them. The farseer pushed back between them, easing through into the interior of the temple and following the gazes of the Warp Spiders up into the heart of the chaotic array of threads and wraith crystals. He tilted his head, as though the angle would help him to see more clearly.
The Ansgar heir, he nodded, unphased and calm as though merely impressed by the logic of what he saw. It seems that Ione was
right about this one. The Lhykosidae? I can recall an early cycle from the days before the coming of war to Kaelor. Perhaps it
was even Bedwyr who shared the tale with me, although it may have been the long-passed Kaswallan.
He paused, as though recollecting the story, apparently unaware of the magnitude of the event unfolding around him. The Lhyhosidae is some kind of exarch, isn't it? It is said to manifest the bellicose force of sha'iel itself, in the form of a Warp Spider?
Ahearn looked from Adsulata to Aingeal, as though expecting one of them to confirm or rebuff his memories, but they were ignoring him utterly, as though hardly even aware of his presence between them. Their eyes were fixed on the figure of the spider- like Naois, who held them in his silver gaze as he stalked closer through the web. 'I thought that this was just a myth,' said Ahearn out loud, feeling like a child being ignored on a momentous occasion. 'It's a story told to frighten childlings when they act disrespectfully towards the Fuir-haern. The Lhykosidae is supposed to be the Guardian of the spirit pool of Kaelor!'
It is no myth, Farseer Rivalin, as you can see, replied Aingeal without shifting her gaze. The Lhykosidae -the Wraith Spider -
appears to us at the time of our greatest need. Its armour lies enshrined in the sanctum of this very temple. It is said that it fought
at the side of Gwrih the Radiant during the Craftwars, your radiance, but it has not been seen over the long eons since that time.
'Where has it been?' mocked Ahearn, as though deliberately refusing to believe what he could see with his own eyes. His whole life had been spent in the refined isolation of the Sentrium, and he was not willing to sacrifice his sanitised sense of reality so quickly. It was bad enough that he had been forced to come to this vulgar and brutal outer realm, but he did not have to accept its violent and uncultivated cosmology.
It awaits the appropriate time, explained Aingeal, conscious of her duty as the Guardian and keeper of the temple and yet still
transfixed by Naois's eyes, and the appropriate host. 'It has come to help in the fight to rid me of the disgusting Teirtu!' announced Ahearn conclusively, instantly appropriating the imagery of the legend for his own purposes. 'Perhaps,' said Aingeal, turning reluctantly from the horror-infused sight as she heard the approach of vehicles through the forest outside.
Following the exarch's gaze, Adsulata also turned in time to see the Falcon grav-tank emerge from the battered and tattered tree line. It was pocked and scarred, as though it had suffered a severe bombardment. The sleek, midnight-blue fuselage was dented and bent out of shape, and the gun turret had been blown away, leaving the tank open roofed and ruined. Its engines spluttered rheumatically, and whips of smoke rose from the exhaust arrays. As it eased to a halt at the bottom of the temple steps, pulling up along side the Warp Spider's transport, it lurched and trembled erratically, like an animal on the point of death. The hatch on the rear of the Falcon fell open, crashing to the ground like an uncontrolled ramp. After a few seconds, the tiny figure of Ela'Ashbel walked down the ramp into the clearing, turning her sapphire gaze immediately up towards the farseer and the terrible sight of the ruined temple. Behind her came a motley procession of eldar warriors. A bloodied Scilti limped down the ramp, hanging off Khukulyn's shoulder, but there were only three others behind them. All of them were slumped and exhausted, as though they had faced the wrath of Kaelis Ra, the Bringer of Death. Seeing the small numbers, Adsulata looked out over the Falcon's wrecked roof towards the tree line and waited for the Ansgar Vypers and jetbikes to appear, but nothing came. The Falcon was the only vehicle to return from the Ula Pass. FROM THE KNAVIR balcony of the Farseer's Palace, Cinnia watched the procession of Teirtu warriors as they marched down the wide boulevard of the Tributary of Baharroth that fed into the Plaza of Vaul. A squadron of deep jade and gold Falcon grav-tanks were followed by a small fleet of Vypers and jetbikes. They were shining and bright, as though freshly prepared for a parade of strength, and the light that reflected off them filled the grandiose Tributary of Baharroth with an emerald atmosphere of luxurious colour.
Two squads of towering wraithguard marched at the head of the convoy, each loping along with an organic fluidity that belied their artificial construction. Their sophisticated sensor arrays glowed across their teardrop helmets, and the spirit stones of once great Teirtu warriors sheened on their chests. Each of the giant Soulguard of Teirtu bore a massive victory standard, bearing either the serpent crest of Teirtu or the radiant star of Rivalin. Nearly twenty such banners fluttered impressively over the head of the convoy, filling the boulevard with a fabricated wash of pride and majesty. Iden Teirtu rode between the two detachments of his Soulguard, on an open-topped gun deck, soaking in the dulled enthusiasm of the crowds that had been primed and ushered into the street to welcome their returning Zhogahn.
С. S. Goto « Eldar Prophecy»
Watching from her balcony with the other Knavir, Cinnia realised that Iden had not yet been informed about the loss of the farseer. It seemed that none had dared to share the news with the great and terrible Zhogahn. He was returning as the Rivalin - decreed Vanquisher of Sin, and yet he was returning to a Sentrium devoid of the Radiant Rivalin himself. Even from the height and distance of the balcony, Cinnia could see Iden's frustration with the lukewarm and forced reception. His pain and indignance was clearly heightened by the fact that the procession was also the funeral cortege of the much loved Yseult Teirtu-ann. If the truth were known, it was only because of this last fact that any of the Knavir had deigned to attend the homecoming. After the passing of Ione, Yseult had been the last member of House Teirtu viewed with anything like admiration or respect by the courtiers of the Ohlipsean. Her loss was felt as a genuine tragedy by most of the eldar of the Sentrium, although the manner of her death would mean that many would blame Iden rather than sympathise with him. Such an immaculate and disciplined soul should not have been shredded in a pointles
s show of military dominance. There had been no need for the elaborate and almost ceremonial combat in the Ula Pass, since the Styhxlin Perimeter had been more than sufficiently fortified to repel such a small force.
The Knavir whispered that Iden had grown so forlorn after the onset of peace following his triumph in the House Wars that he was desperate for any chance to unleash the violence that roiled in his dhamashir-soul. They said that he was growing unbalanced, forced to live a sedentary life in the Sentrium. The Battle of Ula Pass was seen by some as nothing more than an indulgence. Iden was merely playing at being the great warrior. He was flexing his muscles in a vulgar, theatrical display of power, risking the lives of his eldar, including that of the valiant and much-loved Yseult. It was ostentatious and counterproductive, like using a brightlance to carve a mornah. It had been vengeful beyond reason, like the wrath of Asur-men, who was said to have trapped the soul of his brother Tethesis in the first ever diresword in order to inflict greater pain on his enemies. Beloved though Lady Ione had been, none could believe that Iden's actions were inspired merely by the Warp Spider's interruption of Ione's Ceremony of Passing. Iden's hatred of Bedwyr and the Ansgar had made him into a monster of Khaine, and it had cost him the soul of his champion.
If they had been asked, a number of the Knavir eldar on the balcony of the Farseer's Palace would have voiced some sympathy and admiration for the paltry force of Ansgar warriors who had stood their ground in the face of vastly superior firepower, defiant to the last. They had marched into the Ula Pass knowing that it was the march to their deaths. They had chosen to die rather than live in the conditions to which the Teirtu had condemned them. The account of how Yseult had attempted to fight them honourably in the conventional fashion, doing justice to their stature and showing due appreciation of the precious value of all eldar souls, had already spread around the Sentrium like a gust of faerulh. Everyone knew that Iden had ordered the massive bombardment, disregarding the ceremonies of battle because of the terrible loss of Yseult, disregarding the cultivated and disciplined aesthetics of war because of personal loss. Uisnech Anyon watched from the balcony as the parade advanced into the Plaza of Vaul, undisguised disgust on his face. His simple grey cloak belied the sophistication of his mind, but it also spoke of the austerity of one who had once been a warrior himself. Many dhanirs before, Uisnech had turned a cycle in the Aspect Temple of the Swooping Hawks, one of the most exclusive and ancient of the Aspect Shrines on Kaelor. Perhaps because of the natural elegance of the Winged Phoenix, Baharroth, who founded the Aspect, the Swooping Hawks had always been the most respectable and admired of the Aspects amongst the Knavir of Kaelor. Initiation into the temple, which lay within the bounds of the Sentrium, was restricted to members of the Knavir, on the rare occasion that any of them should ever feel the draw of Khaine. Whilst Uisnech was aware that this kind of social control over access to a warrior aspect was one of the idiosyncrasies of Kaelor, he also approved of the way that it ensured that the cultivated Knavir would be able to pass a dhanir as a warrior without losing their sophistication and well-developed aesthetic values.