Coldwave’s Riptide flexed at the knees, flared its jets and launched itself upward, landing perfectly, gracefully, on the edge of the ramp.
Far below, Voss swore.
Over the vox, he heard Zeed. ‘We’re not finished, xenos! We’re not done!’
Metre by metre, the t’au ship ascended while they watched in despair.
The Razorsharks were about to begin their attack run.
Scimitar turned their weapons towards the jets. Chyron’s lascannons punched one from the sky. It plunged like a burning rock. But the others came on, pulse cannons cycling up to rain death down from above.
Ignoring the pain searing his nerves, Voss straightened, leaned back against the container behind him and watched the window closing on Operation Shadowbreaker.
All hope rested with Karras and Rauth now.
With no word or sign from either, it did not look good.
Fifty-nine
Karras was halfway across the lower hold, Epsilon still unconscious over his right shoulder, when the t’au ship started to rise.
Out of the back of the craft, he saw the horizon drop away. Cursing, he ran forward, determined to jump while the ship was still low.
‘Watcher,’ he voxed. ‘We need to get off this thing. Now!’
‘I hear you,’ said the Exorcist.
The ramp was just ahead. The sun was a quarter of the way up the sky, pouring its liquid light through the rear hatchway, almost blinding as it warmed his face.
He put on a burst of speed and stepped out onto the ramp.
As his foot made contact, a massive form materialised right in front of him, leaping up from out of nowhere to land deftly on the edge.
Karras halted, staring at the silhouetted shape of the Riptide just four metres from him, headless, weapon and shield ruined, white sparks pouring from damage to joints and torso.
Coldwave saw him in that same moment.
The battlesuit’s arm blurred in the air as it raised the ruin of its ion accelerator to smash down on him.
No time to throw Epsilon aside before they were both turned to paste.
Karras did the only thing he could.
He called forth a surge of power from the warp and hurled it, like a wall of white fire, straight at the Riptide’s cockpit.
Coldwave never knew what hit him.
One instant, he was primed to deliver a killing blow, and if the woman had to die too, so be it. He’d find a way to continue without her. The next, he was blasted backwards, smashed from the ship’s ramp.
The sky reeled. The ground raced up to meet him. He fired his jump jets, desperate to right himself.
Big mistake.
They drove him straight into the ground, smashing him against it.
The impact jarred the cockpit far beyond the limits of the shock-dampers. Neural connectors ripped free, causing a surge of pain. He cried out. Blue blood ran over his face and neck from a wide gash on his head. He lost all thought impulse control. AI support systems went down. So many warning glyphs were flashing he couldn’t process them all.
He stretched an arm back behind his head and scrambled for the interface cables, but he couldn’t grasp them.
The holo-vision array was still working, still showing him the world beyond his cockpit. He saw the t’au ship, saw its underside above him. It was still ascending slowly on one engine.
But there was something else now. Something new. He squinted at it, unable to comprehend what he was seeing.
Right above the ship, another shape, far larger and sleeker, was phasing into existence, melting into reality like liquid filling an invisible glass.
Its finished form was eerily familiar. It was a ship, and Coldwave had seen its like only once before. At the battle of Cor’lyth, where he had stood against the Y’he as a mere Fireblade officer, such a craft had been spotted observing the conflict from afar.
His commander had ordered t’au jets to intercept. The strange ship had vanished before they even got close.
Now they were here at Kurdiza, just when things had reached critical mass.
The Val’Sha had come.
Sixty
Karras stumbled backwards and fell to an armoured knee.
Epsilon slid from his shoulder and landed in a heap. He didn’t notice. His eyes were shut tight. He was breathing hard, desperate to regain his equilibrium. All his attention was turned inwards, on slamming shut his inner gates before a thousand dark entities poured forth, drawn by his violent use of the power of the warp.
Hepaxammon would have sensed it. The daemon would be racing towards him, driving others before it, eager to exploit any opening it could find.
Karras would not risk possession again, but there had been no time, no choice. Coldwave’s Riptide would have smeared him and Epsilon all over the deck.
With a powerful mantra on his lips, he managed to seal himself off from the flow of the Empyrean. His mind settled. He sighed with relief, opened his eyes and looked up.
The sky above had grown dark.
His relief bled away the instant he saw the unmistakable form of an eldar ship materialising above him – long and sleek, its prow pointed like the blade of a spear.
He watched hull-mounted weapons swivel around. There was a sharp crack, like a thunderclap. Lances of light scored the air in a dozen directions.
Razorshark jets dropped from the sky in ruin. They crashed hard, smashing into the ground in balls of black smoke and bright flame.
As Karras watched them burn, a voice sounded in his head, familiar but unwelcome.
‘Fate draws us together again, Death Spectre. It is time to honour your oath.’
Zeed pushed himself up. He felt fire racing along his nerves. A dozen broken bones were already healing thanks to his Adeptus Astartes implants, but that didn’t stop it hurting like all hell. Red runes on his heads-up display told him what he already knew – his power armour was in a poor state.
He’d seen the Riptide blasted from the t’au ship’s ramp, had seen it fall to the ground and hit hard. It wasn’t getting up. And now he saw an eldar warship materialise in the sky overhead. He watched it shoot the t’au interceptors out of the air. He scowled. If the eldar were here to fight, it wouldn’t go well for the remains of the task force.
‘Omni,’ he voxed through teeth clenched in pain. ‘Are you still standing? Are you seeing this?’
‘Looks like another player wants to enter the game,’ said Voss.
Broden cut in on the command frequency. ‘Talon Alpha, report!’
Nothing.
‘Karras. Answer me.’
Karras wasn’t answering.
Zeed scanned the wreckage-strewn landing field, looking for any sign of the others. He saw Scimitar Squad standing with Chyron some three hundred metres to the south, weapons lowered, just staring up at the t’au and eldar ships.
Someone broke into a fit of coughing behind him.
Zeed turned and saw Major Copley and one of her men, Triskel, walking slowly towards him, both in obvious pain. He nodded. ‘You look like hell.’
‘So do you,’ Copley replied. ‘Your armour’s a mess.’
Zeed shrugged. ‘I’ve seen it worse.’
When they stopped at Zeed’s side, Triskel pointed to the ships. ‘What does this mean?’
Copley and Zeed exchanged a look.
‘Whatever it is,’ said Copley, ‘it’s not good.’
Zeed was about to lead Copley and Triskel off to join the others when six tall forms rezzed into view about seven metres away. They formed a semi-circle around the humans and levelled their strange, fluted weapons.
‘Stay where you are, mon-keigh,’ said the tallest, his voice harsh. ‘This will not take long.’
Sixty-one
The t’au ship began to descend.
Whether by force or by choice, Karras didn’t know, but it moved in a steady, controlled manner as the eldar craft hung motionlessly above it, guns tracking it all the way.
Beside Karras, Epsilon groaned and rose to her feet, still groggy from being knocked out. She squinted up at the underside of the eldar ship.
‘You are Deathwatch,’ she told Karras. ‘In the name of the Ordo Xenos, I order you to protect me.’
Karras glared at her. ‘Woman, were it not for my orders to bring you back alive, I would execute you right now for the Adeptus Astartes deaths you have caused. If we survive this, I will petition Sigma to have you burned after your interrogation.’
She snorted at that. ‘Fool of a Space Marine. I am a core member of the Blackseed project. Why do you think so many lives were risked to recover me? My worth to the ordo is beyond your comprehension.’
She made to walk away from him, towards the edge of the ramp. Karras shot out a hand and grabbed her neck from behind, halting her, almost lifting her from her feet.
She froze. No struggle. Such would be futile. No threat needed to be spoken. Karras could crush her vertebrae with a simple squeeze, and she knew it.
A voice rough as gravel sounded from behind them both. ‘Though Janothe’s heart soared on wings of vindication, he could not strike the final blow.’
‘He felt his son’s eyes upon him,’ replied Karras, ‘and feared above all things the dimming of his light in those eyes.’
‘Cordocai’s Vindictum,’ said Rauth.
The ramp of the t’au ship struck rockcrete. It had returned to the ground.
‘I don’t plan on killing her,’ said Karras. With a grin, he added, ‘You can keep me raised on that pedestal, my son.’
Over Epsilon’s shoulders, Karras could see eldar warriors everywhere, encircling Striggo and the members of Talon and Scimitar. The gore-spattered Carcharadon was all that remained of Sabre Squad.
Karras saw Copley and one of her men, Triskel, with Zeed, surrounded like all the rest.
There must have been a hundred eldar.
He searched for Chyron, certain the Lamenter would launch himself into gleeful slaughter despite the odds. When his eyes settled on the hulking form of the Dreadnought, however, Karras saw that he was powered down. The eldar had neutralised him somehow. He stood utterly quiescent.
Karras shifted his grip to Epsilon’s upper arm and forced her off the ramp. Rauth walked abreast of them on the inquisitor’s far side, bolter in hand.
‘To your left, Death Spectre,’ said Aranye’s voice in Karras’ head. ‘Bring the woman with you.’
Karras turned to see a tall, slender figure in shimmering white robes. Her hair shone like pale gold around her almond-shaped face, falling and cascading like a waterfall from her fine-boned shoulders.
As tall as she was – easily as tall as he, even in power armour – she looked fragile, delicate. The contrast of her physical form with the overwhelming psychic power she radiated could not have been greater.
Karras, Rauth and Epsilon passed the wreckage of the Riptide as they moved towards Aranye. Karras glanced at it. The damned thing had almost been too much for Talon, especially given his new reluctance to rely on the power of the warp.
The Deathwatch would need new weapons to combat such suits. The t’au were constantly evolving their technology. If they were to pull too far ahead…
‘Your companion is a curious specimen,’ said Aranye, glancing at Rauth, knocking Karras from his train of thought. Though within verbal speaking distance, she continued to talk mind-to-mind, her lips unmoving.
‘I wonder where he deposited his soul,’ she continued. ‘I wonder yet more why there was any need, though I can hazard a guess.’
‘I am not interested in your guesses,’ said Karras aloud.
Rauth glared at him. ‘You are speaking with the Xenos witch? Mind to mind? Have a care, Scholar.’
Karras threw him a sideways look. ‘Don’t worry about it.’
‘Only you and the woman may approach from there,’ said Aranye.
‘You do not command me, xenos,’ replied Karras, his expression darkening.
‘You think it a choice, mon-keigh?’ pulsed Aranye, mild amusement tugging at the corners of her mouth.
She looked at Rauth, mouthed something and made a fist over her heart.
The Exorcist dropped to the rockcrete like a felled tree.
Karras halted, pulling Epsilon to a stop with a yank of her arm. ‘What is this?’ he demanded.
‘He is unharmed,’ said Aranye. She gestured at the other survivors of the assault on Kurdiza, all surrounded by her troops. Again, she spoke sorcerous words and made a fist. Shimmering white witchfire danced briefly from her eyes.
With the exception of Karras, every last surviving member of the Imperial forces dropped to the ground.
Karras glared at the farseer. The extent of her power unsettled him deeply. Could even Athio Cordatus stand against such as she?
‘This way,’ Aranye told Karras, ‘they can no longer endanger themselves. My interest is in you, Death Spectre.’ She gestured at Epsilon. ‘And in her.’
Karras and Epsilon stopped three metres away. For a moment, the farseer and the Librarian stared at each other. Aranye’s face was expressionless. Karras could not keep the dislike and distrust from showing clearly on his own.
‘I cannot give her to you,’ he said flatly.
The farseer cocked a thin eyebrow. ‘You must. You made an oath to me. I saved your immortal soul, the soul of your Chapter’s long-awaited Cadash. What is the life of this woman against that?’
Karras shook his head. ‘I swore not to obstruct you. I did not swear to dishonour myself and my Chapter to do it. You ask too much.’
‘The woman is a danger to your people, Lyandro Karras. To all peoples. She imagines herself a saviour on a desperate mission to change the fate of your race. In truth, she is on course to bring about a cataclysm beyond your imagination. She has already set the t’au down a dark and dangerous path. It will cost much to undo that. Next, she will damn your people and mine. I must take her. I must gain her knowledge so that I may prevent any other from following such a path.’
Karras shook his head. ‘Even if I believed you, I have oaths that far supersede the one I made to you. Do not think me ungrateful, Aranye. But I am a Space Marine. I serve the Imperium.’
He released Epsilon and slung Arquemann from his back. ‘Withdraw your forces in peace,’ he told the eldar witch. ‘I would not have bloodshed between us, but I will fight if you force my hand.’
A gunshot sounded.
Karras heard a grunt. The smell of ionised air and burned flesh reached his nose.
Aranye’s brows lowered. Her eyes narrowed. The light of day seemed to suddenly dim.
Epsilon collapsed, folding over on herself.
Karras spun.
On the ruin of his battlesuit stood Coldwave, his sidearm raised, its muzzle glowing. The shas’o was covered in blue blood. His tooth-plates were bared in a rictus of hate, but he didn’t move. He just stood there, staring at the crumpled body of the woman he had just shot.
Aranye made a gesture with her right hand. Coldwave was hoisted three metres into the air.
He hung there a moment, then, as Karras watched, was pulled apart by an invisible force. The t’au commander didn’t even cry out. His blood splashed the Riptide’s carapace. The pieces of his body fell, hitting it, rolling off.
Karras turned to the fallen form of Epsilon, rage writ large on his features. We had her, damn it. We had her!
On impulse, he reached down and grabbed her by the hair. He twisted her head round roughly so that he could look down into her eyes.
The light was still there, but it was faint and dimming fast.
On impulse, he placed his right palm on her forehead and grippe
d it tight.
‘Death Spectre! You–’
‘Be silent,’ he barked at Aranye. ‘I have never done this before, but it is the only option left to me now.’
He marshalled his power carefully, no great surge, but he was conscious, too, of how little time he had. Her soul was departing. He knew he had to follow.
He dived.
A roaring sound filled his head.
He opened his mind’s eye to a scene he knew well. Black waters raged all around him. They formed a circular tunnel that defied gravity, defied sense, defied logic and physical laws. This was a place that did not exist in the realm of matter and energy. It was the Black River, and it existed to pull disembodied souls towards the eternal Afterlands.
Almost immediately, Karras sensed a monstrous presence trying to break through the walls of the tunnel, desperate to force its way through, to get to him.
Such anger.
Such hate.
There would be little time. The daemon had broken through before, back on Chiaro. It would break through again.
Ahead, Karras saw a sphere of light, colours flowing and mixing within it. It was proceeding down the tunnel, pulled along by the ethereal waters.
‘Go after her,’ echoed Aranye’s voice. ‘I will hold back the abomination. Hurry, before she passes beyond reach!’
Karras impelled himself forward at speed, his psychic essence riding the currents, adding his will to that momentum, the combination giving him great speed.
Behind him, he felt two formidable powers clash, one of darkness and pain, the other of wilful light and a cold, acidic nobility.
He caught up to the essence of the inquisitor and reached out to grasp it, halting its headlong rush towards the next world.
The inquisitor’s soul protested, snatched from what she fully believed was a promise of infinite peace and unlimited knowledge, of unity with the Emperor, of reward for a lifetime spent serving His Imperium, even if few understood the true depths of her service. She struggled to break free of Karras’ grasp.
But Karras held on. There was only one way to salvage Shadowbreaker. He was not sure what it would do to him, but he had to take that gamble. It was the only shot he had.
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