Eldar Prophecy

by C. S. Goto

  Feet clattered on the steps outside as warriors ascended towards the broken doors. She could hear others dashing around to flank the temple buildings in case there were other routes of escape. She could hear the servos in the shuriken cannons on the Wave Serpents rotating to face the doors in order to cut her down if she showed her face, and she could feel the heavy impacts of Iden's boots as he trod the ground in front of the temple for the first time in his life. Iden has come, she smiled, perceiving an end worthy of her last stand. She chose death.

  С. S. Goto « Eldar Prophecy»

  The first Dire Avenger was dead before he'd even crossed the threshold. Aingeal lingered just long enough in the centre of the arena for the first wave to see her there. Then she blinked out of existence at the moment they opened fire with their shuriken cata- pults. She hissed back into the materium just as the leading Avenger crested the final step of the stairs outside, and she simply decapitated him with a swipe of the powerblades on her right arm. With the same motion, she spun and drove her other hand into the side of the next warrior's helmet, punching through and mulching his skull. Taking a moment to look down the cracked and crumbling steps, she saw at least six other Aspect Warriors charging up towards her, and then she warped back into the temple. The second wave was better organised than the first. They approached the doors in two teams, one on each side, covering each other as they advanced. Aingeal watched them in amusement, hidden in the shadows around the edge of the arena. She could sense their concentration on the space just inside the doors, as though they were already convinced that she would be there, waiting for them.

  She smiled evilly and warped back out onto the steps, facing the backs of the two teams as they cautiously advanced into the doorway. With casual abandon, she lifted her deathspinner and unleashed a hail into their backs, strafing her fire from one side the doorway to the other to ensure that she covered them all. There was a faint click as the gunners in the Wave Serpents behind her in the clearing charged the accelerators for the shuriken canons, but just as they opened fire at the step on which Aingeal was standing, she vanished again, leaving the rain of monomolecular projectiles to ricochet harmlessly off the masonry. From his position between the Wave Serpents, Iden cursed the incompetence of the Avengers' gunners. Then he heard their screams from inside the Wave Serpents, and he cursed the exarch as well, as he realised that she was in there tearing them apart with her hands.

  He flicked a signal to the team of Avengers that had taken up position on the side of the shrine to block off one of the possible escape routes, indicating that the exarch was not in the temple and that they should move in to find the farseer. To the team on the other side, he made the sign that they should enter the shrine and plant their plasma charges. Meanwhile, there was an electric fizz and a hiss behind him. It was a sound that he had grown to recognise, and his first instinct was to dive to the ground. His instincts served him well as a volley of fire from Aingeal's deathspinner whined over his back, shredding the material of his cloak as it billowed up behind him. He hit the ground too heavily and Aingeal was on his back before he could roll over. A piercing pain lanced through his shoulder as she thrust a powerblade down through it, pinning him to the ground. He snapped his head back abruptly and smashed the back of his head into the exarch's face-mask, making her lurch backwards. As her weight shifted, he rolled over, tearing his shoulder free of her loosened blade and kicking out with both legs. The kick lifted Aingeal into the air and sent her crashing onto her back on the ground. By the time she had found her feet, Iden was also upright. He had drawn his famous sword in both hands and held it horizontally through the space that separated him from the exarch. A stream of blood ran down his arm from the puncture wound in his shoulder, and it fizzled as it touched the hilt of his alien blade.

  There was a shout from the entrance to the temple above them as the two teams of Avengers reappeared, jobs done. The farseer shuffled along in the middle of them, leaning heavily on his gnarled staff and putting up no visible fight. Aingeal looked from Iden to the Aspect Warriors and back again, momentarily uncertain about which posed the greatest threat or presented the greatest challenge. She squeezed the trigger of her deathspinner, unleashing a half-hearted volley towards the Avengers, but Iden used the opportunity to lunge forwards with Soul-Slayer and hack towards the exarch's head. She dropped low and brought the deathspinner up to block the attack, but the exquisite blade crashed straight through the weapon, shattering it into explosive fragments as the ammunition detonated inside. Iden followed through, leaping into the attack as Aingeal staggered back. He sidestepped and brought his crackling, sinuous blade around in a horizontal arc, driving it into Aingeal's warp-pack as she tried to evade the strike. She fell as the warp-pack spluttered and burst into flames, hitting the ground hard. For a moment she seemed unable to move, and Iden stood over her with his blade poised, waiting for the moment of drama to grip him. His eyes gleamed with excitement as the thrill of Khaine coursed through his veins. Then Aingeal started to flicker. She seemed to jump in and out of existence without moving from her position on the ground, as though her sparking and burning warp-pack were malfunctioning in some way, but she couldn't move. After a few moments, the remaining Avengers descended the steps and joined Iden to watch the freak show, bringing the farseer in tow. They leered over her, enjoying the bizarre and sadistic suffering of the exarch of Khaine. You should see this before you pass, exarch, said Iden, pointing past Ahearn and up at her crumbling and ruined temple. A

  moment passed with nothing happening, and then the plasma charges inside detonated, instantly transforming the temple into a sphere of plasma, a raging inferno of atomic fire. The silhouette of the temple showed black in the heart of the firestorm for a fraction of a moment, and then it was incinerated utterly. Now you can pass happily, smiled Iden sarcastically, raising his alien blade above his head for the death blow. He let out a cry of

  focus as he brought Soul-Slayer down with all his strength onto the prone target, dosing his eyes to better feel the moment of death.

  A cold, burning pain ripped through his back and out of his stomach. Now I can pass happily, replied Aingeal as the Dire Avengers shredded her with their shuriken catapults. She had managed one

  final warp jump, appearing immediately behind Iden and punching her powerblades through his abdomen before collapsing down on top of him.

  She had chosen death.

  С. S. Goto « Eldar Prophecy»

  THE BATTLE WAS an anticlimax. Naois stood in the heart of the action but felt more like a spectator than a warrior fighting for his life. He saw Scilti engaged in one contest after another, hacking through his opponents at dose range with his powerblades or spraying them with his deathspinner from greater distances. Adsulata blinked and flashed through the melee, slicing a throat here and punching through a skull there, moving with a graceful ease that Naois could appreciate. The plains were beginning to run slick with blood. Occasionally he caught glimpses of little Ela wandering the battlefield like a ghost, untouched and unmolested by the weapons and hands of both sides. It was as though none of the combatants could see her at all, or that it simply did not occur to them to attempt to do her harm. She moved in an aura of inexorable safety. None had yet challenged Naois. He had not even drawn Khukulyn's witchblades. A Ione wraithguard had advanced on him a while ago, as though unaware of what it was doing, but Naois had dismantled it before it had even fired a shot at him. The Teirtu Guardians passed by him as though they couldn't even see him. He searched their ranks for a marshal or a leader of some kind, anyone that might consider themselves worthy, but there was no one. Their commander was hidden away at the very back of their force, cowering behind the Fire Prism tanks and a full squad of wraithguard. He was not even worthy of command, let alone of combat with Naois. This was not the War of the Ages that Naois had wanted. Then an icy Shockwave blasted across the plains, rippling out from the outer realms in the direction of Ansgar and crashing into the Styhxlin barrier. It co
vered the Faerulh Prairies in screams of agony and chilled the souls of all the warriors on the battlefield. For a brief surreal moment, all the combatants stopped, some of them in the middle of a strike, others already impaled on a lance or a spear. There was a pristine moment of silence, as though sound itself had suddenly become impossible. Then everything erupted back into fury once again, as though nothing had happened. Only Naois understood. He could feel the rage of violation beginning to build inside him. He could feel Khaine etching fire through his veins with the tip of his shining spear, and he could feel the terror of a hundred thousand eldar souls screaming in the labyrinth of infinity circuit. In that moment, he knew that his temple was gone. With slow deliberation, Naois unsheathed the witchblades and held them out at his sides like a cross, reaching out and opening his chest in a grand declaration of his presence and intent. He was issuing a challenge to the entire Teirtu army.

  The first Guardian to die was almost an accident. Duelling with one of the Warp Spiders, the hapless Teirtu had retreated right onto the point of one of Naois's blades, impaling himself. With a brisk, irritated motion, Naois lifted the blade and swept the dead Guardian off onto the floor, as though merely cleaning his sword. Then he started to run. His burning eyes were focused solely on the command unit at the back of the Teirtu force, and he ploughed his way through the fray in grim determination to get there. He was like a ball of golden flame, roaring through the las-riddled quagmire of battle.

  He parried swords, ducked shuriken and evaded lasfire, leaping and rolling with breathtaking grace. His own blades flashed in coruscating patterns of psychic fire, leaving a trail of the mutilated and the dead in his wake. The Teirtu could no longer ignore this manifestation of war as it rampaged and raged through their ranks, but it seemed as though Naois was engaging them and ignoring them at the same time. He showed no signs of attachment or investment in any of the combats, and his eyes never deviated from the command post. Even when he dropped and spun under a volley of cannon fire, springing up again to decapitate the gunner with a single swipe, it was as though the movements were simply part of his run. He was just clearing obstacles, like a hurdler clearing the gates to get to the finishing line. The obstacles themselves had no meaning to him; they could have been anything, or nothing, it didn't matter. Eventually, the Teirtu Guardians began to scatter out his path, clearly aware that there was nothing they could do to stop this force of the gods. So the field of battle parted before him as he charged onwards, but this seemed only to drive Naois to greater rage, as he was deprived of a vent for the violence that roared untamed in his soul. 'WE MUST RETREAT!' gasped Morfran, staring at the holo-projection of the battlefield from within his armoured transport at the back of the field. The battle was not going as planned. The smaller Ansgar force seemed to be well organised and inspired. It had pushed up into the heart of the Teirtu lines and broken their formation, shattering the battle plan into a free-for-all of close combat. There was something else. He couldn't tell what it was, but a burning image on the projection was ploughing forwards through the battlefield towards his own position. Perhaps it was a tank or a giant war walker? Whatever it was, Morfran could see that his own forces were weary of engaging it, and he was sure that this meant that he didn't want it to reach him. 'We may never be able to muster a force of this size again, Lord Morfran,' answered the rugged old Guardian at his side. Iden had left the veteran Turyae to counsel his inept son in case of need. 'To retreat now may not be wise.' 'Look!' cried Morfran, poindng at the ever closing burning image on the projector. 'If we don't retreat, we'll be dead!' 'There are worse things than death, my lord,' countered Turyae, whispering the warrior's truism. 'You think I'm a coward?' Morfran's eyes narrowed with hatred as he faced his accuser. 'I did not ask to be here, Guardian. I was sent. I have other things to do, more important things!' 'As was I, my lord. That is the fate of the warrior: to be sent to his death.' Morfran snarled, his panic shifting easily into contempt. 'You fool! You blind and misguided fool! Death may come to us all one day - it may not - but you should not accept it on the whim of another. You should not lay down your life for my ridiculous father and his pathetic warrior codes. You should live while you are alive!' Turyae slapped him abruptiy across the face. 'Sound the retreat, Turyae,' said Morfran with calculated calm. 'As you wish. I will command the rear guard action myself, my lord. Do I have your permission to take one of the Soulguard squads?' Turyae spoke through gritted teeth, refusing to let the Morfran's cowardice ruin a lifetime of honour and devotion. 'Fine, whatever you like,' said Morfran, waving a dismissal. 'Just get this vehicle back through the Ula Pass as quickly as possible.'

  С. S. Goto « Eldar Prophecy»

  NAOIS SAW THE commander's tank peel away from the rear of the Teirtu lines and accelerate back up the curving ramp that led into the Ula Pass. A trail of Guardians, vehicles and weapons platforms followed suit, falling into retreat, and he knew that the battle was won, but his soul was unsatisfied and he threw back his head to scream his frustration across the blood-slicked battlefield. As the Teirtu army's retreat degenerated into a rout, Naois scanned the decimation that surrounded him. Emerging out of the smoke and flame ahead of him was a single figure, a Guardian of Teirtu who announced himself in the manner of the old custom, declaring himself to be Turyae Teirtu-ann. As he bowed, a full squadron of wraithguard emerged from the smoke behind him and opened fire at Naois.

  Yes, hissed the Wraith Spider as he felt death calling once again.

  С. S. Goto « Eldar Prophecy»

  PART THREE:

  THE INEXORABLE

  CHAPTER NINE: DEFIANCE

  THE PLAZA OF Vaul had hosted so many great events over the last few days that the eldar of the Sentrium could have been forgiven for reaching the point of numbness or emotional saturation, incapable of feeling the grand emotions of regal ceremony. For the eldar, emotions were a cumulative phenomenon, each one stacking up on top of the last until they exploded into a fury of expression or were fundamentally confronted, contradicted and deflated. Hence, a sequence of great victories would bring ever higher tidal waves of euphoria crashing over society, but a number of consecutive tragedies would rapidly push whole communities to the verge of virtual suicide. They called it emotional contagion, and it was the natural affliction of a psychic race. The atmosphere in the Plaza of Vaul was dark, and the light-phase of the sector seemed to dim in dramatic sympathy as though the Fluir-haern could feel the sinking mood. There had been so much death, and so many of the brightest lights of the court had been extinguished. It had started with the fair Lady Ione herself, but then there had been the valiant young Marshal Yseult. The courtiers in the Farseer's Palace also remembered the gallant Guardian Lhir, but recent reports suggested that he had been slaughtered in battle.

  Then Morfran had returned from battle, unscathed but bathed in the ignominy of defeat. The irony was not lost on many. For many of the most refined eldar of the Sentrium it felt that the best and the most beautiful were gradually being taken from them, leaving only the crude and vulgar dross of the Teirtu to pollute the stately boulevards. It was bad enough that the styhx-tann warrior house had to be there in the first place, but it was even worse to see the most acceptable of them gradually perish in such barbaric ways, and to see the most vulgar survive through it all. Now it seemed that even the Zhogahn would join the ranks of the passed. News had got back to the Ohlipsean in advance of the party of Dire Avengers that escorted the wounded patriarch. Exarch Lairgnen had delivered the message to Uisnech Anyon of the Circular Court, explaining that Iden had been injured in a battle with Aingeal of the Warp Spiders during his attempt to recover the farseer from his imprisonment. He said that the wounds were serious, and that the Warp Spider's blades had been laced with a psycho-toxic venom that had made the patriarch of Teirtu delusional and fevered. The Aspect Warriors that were with him suspected that he would not last through the next down-phase of dharknys, if he made it back to the Sentrium at all. When Morfran had heard the news, he had ba
ttled to control his sense of relief. Had there been some way for him to ensure that his father would die on the road before re-entering the Sentrium, he would have done his best to make it happen. He simply could not face the prospect of his father's fury when he returned to discover that not only had he failed to crush the Ansgar before they could reach the Ula Pass, but that he had also fled from the battiefield to save his own life. Iden would tell him that Yseult would never have acted so shamefully, and he would be right. Turyae had not acted so shamefully.

  Morfran had never claimed to be a warrior. It was a mere accident of fate that he had been born into the Teirtu line. It was the worst of all possible things: a coincidence. So, it was bad enough to have been forced to march into battle in the first place, not to mention to have to return to the already gloomy Sentrium with more depressing news for the Knavir, but then to have his overbearing father berate him for his cowardice was more than he could stomach. It was almost enough to make him grasp his courage in his hands and attempt to organise an assassination. It couldn't be too hard to arrange an accident to befall the injured and feverish Zhogahn as he travelled through the increasingly unstable sectors outside the Sentrium. The effort, small as it might have been, and the risk defeated his will. Instead, he contented himself with a show of concern and a public display of preparation for the return of the Zhogahn. He organised a summoning, drawing in all the eldar of the sector and crowding the Plaza of Vaul in anticipation, filling the domain with a pervasive sense of doom and foreboding. If Iden was not already dead by the time he arrived, the atmosphere itself would probably be enough to kill him.