Path of the Outcast

by Gav Thorpe

  Overhead, the sun was hot, sending steam rising from the primordial forest. It was a real sun, and its real heat also touched the skin of Aradryan as he stepped from the docking ramp onto the soil of a real world. The first planet he had set foot on in his long life. He had been raised on Alaitoc and during his travels aboard Lacontiran he had never left the starship. As his boot sunk a little into the mud, he wondered why he had never done this before.

  The wind tugged at his coat, his garments shifting to brown and green to blend with the surroundings, and it occurred to Aradryan that this wind was not generated by some hidden vent or artificially stirred by climatic engines, but the result of impossibly complex pressure and temperature interactions in the atmosphere of Eileniliesh. Far to his left, a dark smudge on the horizon could have been smoke, or perhaps storm clouds.

  Covering his eyes against the glare of the sun, which on second consideration he decided would benefit greatly from being dimmed a little, Aradryan thought about the sky. There was no dome to hold it in place. The mass of the world and the physics of gravity bound the atmosphere to the planet, with no force shields required. It was a magnificent thing, and listening to the squeal and screech of birds – really, truly wild birds – sent a thrill through him.

  ‘Ex-dreamers,’ muttered Jair as he walked past. ‘Always with their heads in the clouds.’

  Aradryan turned to respond, but his harsh answer died in his throat as he saw the smile on the other ranger’s face.

  ‘I once actually had my head in a cloud,’ Aradryan said, shifting the rifle slung over his shoulder into a more comfortable position. ‘It was on the skybridge above the Gorge of Deep Regrets.’

  ‘Fascinating,’ said Jair. He pointed to a slender tower not far ahead, rising above the canopy of the trees surrounding the clearing where Caolein had set down Irdiris. The Exodite building was a light grey spear thrust into the indigo sky, widening to a disc-like platform pierced by arched windows not far below its narrow summit. The deep blue leaves of the forest fluttered in the wind around its base, showing their silvery undersides, their whisper drifting to Aradryan’s ears.

  ‘This is where we were told to meet the others?’ said Aradryan.

  ‘The Exodite elders will be speaking to all of the rangers in the first wave,’ replied Jair.

  ‘And when will Athelennil and the others arrive?’

  The two of them started walking, passing into the shade of the immense trees. Having visited Eileniliesh before, Athelennil was amongst the outcasts who had remained with the craftworld army, to act as guides to the Aspect Warriors and seers. Aradryan missed her already, though Jair was proving to be a witty and informative companion.

  ‘Tonight, I expect,’ said Jair. ‘The Alaitocii battleships are not so swift as our ranger craft, and the autarchs deemed a night attack to be the best course of action.’

  ‘I am still not sure what I will be able to do,’ said Aradryan. The soft mulch of leaves gave way slightly under his light tread and the not-unpleasant fragrance of gently rotting leaves surrounded him. It was autumn here, due to the planet’s position in its orbit around the star and its particular axial tilt. Within the controlled climate of Alaitoc, seasons were a matter of whim or design, winter snows a marvel to be conjured up and then disposed of once the entertainment they provided grew wearisome.

  ‘We have to find out where the orks are, and if they are on the move,’ said Jair.

  ‘How do they cope?’ Aradryan asked. ‘The Exodites, I mean.’

  ‘Cope with what?’

  ‘The randomness of their world,’ explained Aradryan. ‘A storm could sweep away their crops, or an earthquake could topple their towers and swallow their cities. How do they endure such unpredictability?’

  ‘Some would say it is stubbornness,’ said Jair. ‘I think it is more deep-rooted than that. Once, before the Fall, our people commanded the stars and worlds were shaped to our whim. Like Alaitoc, there was nothing that we did not control. It was that laziness that allowed our bane to whisper in our ears, spreading the moral decline that brought about the Fall. The Exodites will never again trust themselves to be masters of their surrounds. Its capricious ways, the untamed weather and the vacillations of tectonic and volcanic activity, humble them and stave off the risk of idleness and ultimately a return to depravity.’

  ‘A slightly masochistic temperament, by the sounds of it,’ said Aradryan. They had come to another clearing, the solitary tower soaring into the sky above them, tall doorways open at its base. ‘Why did they not simply adopt the Path as the craftworlds did?’

  ‘You, who walk here as an outcast, ask that question?’ Jair’s laugh was of incredulity. ‘The Exodites see the Path as a trap – an illusory control that masks an inner darkness. They think that there is purity in their hard lives, and that only constant denial of their emotions will eventually set them free from the taint of... Well, you know.’

  ‘The Great Enemy? She Who Thirsts? The Prince of Pleasure? We both know to what you refer, why so suddenly coy?’

  ‘Even those names are best left unsaid, Aradryan,’ said Jair, stopping to take hold of his arm. ‘You are not behind the wards of Alaitoc, protected by the warp spiders and barriers of the infinity circuit. It is not wise to tempt the gaze of that power, especially in jest.’

  Aradryan was suddenly scared by Jair’s earnest warning and stepped back, pulling his arm free. For a brief heartbeat he thought his waystone glowed a little brighter in its golden setting, a moment of warmth touching his chest. It was probably imagined, but Aradryan glanced around nonetheless, disturbed by the sensation.

  ‘The trees are glowing!’ he exclaimed, thoughts of the Great Enemy dispersed by this sudden revelation.

  It was perhaps an overstatement, but there was a light from the trees around the tower, an aura strongest at the roots, gleaming between the folds of the bark, glimmering along the serrated edges of leaves. Now that his attention was drawn to it, Aradryan noticed the faint light elsewhere, similar to the silver glow that came from the uppermost storeys of the tower. Crossing to one of the trees, Aradryan knelt down and examined its roots. There was a miniscule vein of crystal running along the wood.

  ‘Careful, that is the world spirit,’ Jair said when he noticed what Aradryan was doing. ‘This tower must be some kind of node point, where the crystal matrix is close to the surface.’

  ‘And it delves into the ground, going deeper?’

  ‘A world spirit makes the infinity circuit of Alaitoc look small,’ said Jair, crouching to run his hand through the dirt. ‘It stretches across the whole planet, seeping into the cracks between rocks, like the rootlets of a plant.’

  Concentrating, Aradryan tried to feel the presence of the world spirit, as he would a ship network on the infinity circuit. He felt nothing, expect perhaps the slightest background awareness. Closing his eyes, he tried to home in on the spirit, opening his thoughts to it, but there was nothing to hear but the sighing of the wind. Aradryan remembered the moment of contact he had felt aboard Irdiris, but that shared experience created no connection here.

  ‘A matrix that size, that could send that message across the webway, must be powerful indeed, but I cannot sense it at all,’ he said, opening his eyes.

  ‘The world spirit is vast in size, but its potency is exceptionally diffuse,’ said Jair. He motioned that they should continue across the glade to the tower. ‘Originally, perhaps less than a thousand Exodites fled to this world. Even after generations, the energy that has been stored within from their dying spirits is a fraction of the millions of spirits contained by Alaitoc. Like all Exodite creations, it is a basic, rudimentary thing, which serves its purpose as a sanctuary for their departing spirits but nothing more.’

  A figure, clothed in red and white, appeared at an archway ahead. Her hair reached to her knees, braided tightly and tied with plain thongs. A belt of reptilian hide held the eldar’s robes in place. In her right hand she carried a staff of knotted, twisted wood, it
s top entwined about an irregularly-shaped green crystal.

  ‘Well met, visitors,’ said the stranger, opening her free hand in greeting.

  ‘Well met, host,’ replied Jair with a formal bow of his head. Aradryan copied his companion, keeping his eyes on the figure. ‘Are you Saryengith?’

  ‘I am Rijaliss Saryengith Naiad, the Pandita of Hirith-Hreslain. Please, come inside and join the others.’

  Saryengith spent some time explaining what had happened to the seventeen rangers who had arrived ahead of the Alaitoc fleet. The orks had come to the maiden world thirty cycles before – Aradryan had a strange thought that the length of the cycles here were as fixed as the seasons – and while Alaitoc and the outcasts had readied their response, the settlement of Hirith-Hreslain had been overrun.

  The Exodites of Eileniliesh were few in number, and not disposed to conflict. What armaments they possessed, and the warriors capable of wielding them, were sufficient to keep at bay carnosaurs and razordons that menaced their herds, but the orks had crashed down onto the planet with bikes and buggies, cannons and tanks: a horde of battle-hungry beasts bred for battle in an age long past.

  Hirith-Hreslain had been invaded four cycles ago, and though Saryengith and her fellow elders had evacuated the town before the wrath of the orks had fallen upon it, there had been many of the warrior sects too stubborn to retreat. They had been slaughtered defending the town, rather than waiting the extra time for reinforcements to arrive from other settlements and nearby Alaitoc. From what little the scouts of the Exodites had seen, the orks were keeping themselves occupied and amused by looting and smashing up the ancient buildings; there were guarded whispers that some of the Exodite knights had been taken alive too. No party had been sent in the last cycle, though, so whether the orks had tired of their sport and started another rampage into the forest or not, was not known. What little that could be gleaned from the pain of the world spirit indicated the orks were still in Hirith-Hreslain in some numbers, but it was impossible to say if they had split their force.

  Hirith-Hreslain was a paired-town located on a wide river, Hresh on one side of a connecting bridge, Selain on the other. After a quarter of a cycle with Saryengith and her scouts, discussing the best approach to the overrun town, it was down this water course that the rangers ventured, split into three bands. Dusk was some time away still, they had been assured, leaving them plenty of opportunity to reach Hirith-Hreslain and return.

  Running effortlessly along the river path, Aradryan and the rest of his group covered the distance quickly. Though he enjoyed stretching his legs and the openness of the limitless sky above, the trek seemed a little pointless to him.

  ‘Why do we not just take Irdiris and fly to Hirith-Hreslain?’ he asked Naomilith, a female ranger who was running beside him to the right. ‘Or one of the other ships, perhaps?’

  ‘It is best that the enemy remain ignorant of our presence,’ replied Naomilith. ‘They must have arrived by starship, and so if we wish to destroy them we should give them no cause to return to their vessel.’

  ‘How long have you been a ranger?’ Aradryan asked. He glanced at Naomilith, admiring the way the shade and light of the tree branches overhead played across the delicate features of her face.

  ‘Long enough to know when to keep quiet,’ she replied with a cold smile.

  Silenced by this retort, Aradryan ran on. Ahead, the smudge he had thought might be a storm cloud was revealed to be a column of smoke; several smaller columns in fact, merging into one cloud that lingered over the burning forest. They approached from upwind, and so the smell of the burning was absent, but the sight filled Aradryan with foreboding. It was obvious that Hirith-Hreslain had been set ablaze, and he was not sure how he would cope with the evidence of such destruction. What if he saw bodies? Would he be rendered almost incapable, as he had been all that time ago, before he had left aboard Lacontiran?

  His apprehension increased as they neared the settlement. The roar of crude fossil fuel engines and raucous shouts and laughter announced from a distance that the orks had not left the town.

  ‘That’s that question answered,’ Aradryan said to Naomilith. ‘We can report now, yes?’

  He was only half-joking, but the withering stare from Naomilith silenced further comment before it was made. A whistle from across the river attracted the attention of the rangers, and Aradryan looked over the waters to his left and saw another group beneath the eaves of the forest on the far side. He raised a hand in greeting, just as the communicator he wore as a piercing in his right ear tingled into life.

  ‘Gahian is leading the third group around to the left, to come upon Hirith-Hreslain from the opposite direction,’ reported Khannihain, the most experienced ranger in the group upon the far bank. ‘I suggest that you move away from the river to explore the remnants of Selain, while we go into Hresh.’

  All of the rangers had heard Khannihain’s words and they looked at each other, seeking consensus.

  ‘Seems a reasonable plan to me,’ said Jair.

  ‘I concur,’ said Lithalian, from just behind Aradryan.

  ‘Are there any objections?’ asked Naomilith. She looked at the rangers in turn, each shaking his or her head, until Naomilith’s gaze fell upon Aradryan.

  ‘How would I know whether it is a good plan or not?’ Aradryan said with a quiet, self-conscious laugh.

  ‘Your voice is equal,’ said Naomilith, ‘despite your lack of experience.’

  ‘What if I do not like this plan?’ said Aradryan, bemused by the situation.

  ‘If you have a counter-proposal, let us hear it,’ said Jair, impatiently. ‘If not, you are free to come with us or leave and follow your own course.’

  ‘That does not sound sensible, I think I will stay with you.’

  ‘So you are in agreement with Khannihain’s suggestions? You will come with us into Selain?’ said Naomilith.

  ‘If that is what Jair or Khannihain say we should do.’

  Naomilith let out a short hiss and shook her head in exasperation. She stalked away from Aradryan and whispered something to Jair as she passed. The older ranger approached Aradryan.

  ‘I hope that you genuinely do not understand the proposition, and our situation,’ said Jair, talking softly as he placed a hand on the younger eldar’s shoulder and led Aradryan a short distance from the others. ‘Naomilith wants to be sure that you are acting of your own will.’

  ‘So I could really just leave now and do whatever I want?’ said Aradryan.

  ‘We hope you would not pursue a course of action that would endanger the rest of us,’ said Jair. The other eldar frowned with thought as Aradryan stared blankly at him, still not quite comprehending why the others were so agitated about getting his approval. ‘Let me see if I can make you understand. To be outcast is to make a choice, and to continue making choices without the guidance or the restraints of the Path. We are each free – free in a way that perhaps you still do not picture. We are free from everything. We are free from hierarchy, from any authority we do not choose for ourselves, free from orders and doctrine. Every spirit is equal as an outcast, there can be no coercion or subjugation.’

  ‘Why is there such a delay? What are you discussing?’ Khannihain asked over the communicator.

  ‘I am sorry for the misunderstanding,’ said Aradryan. He touched a finger to the ring at his ear, so that he could transmit. ‘We are in accord with you, Khannihain. Explore Hresh while we see what there is to find in Selain.’

  ‘Very well, it is advisable to reconvene here at dusk,’ said Khannihain.

  There came a chorus of affirmatives from the other rangers, and Aradryan added his own consent to the replies.

  ‘Ready your weapon,’ said Jair, turning away. ‘We will be getting close to the orks.’

  His fingers trembling just a little at this thought, Aradryan slung the rifle from his shoulder and carried it in both hands. The wind was turning and he tasted ash on the air, reminding him of the slaughter
that the orks had already perpetrated. Licking his lips, which had become quite dry in the last few moments, he glanced around and then headed after the other rangers, whose coats were quickly disappearing into the scrub ahead.

  The river curved sharply, and as Aradryan’s group rounded the bend, the settlement of Hirith-Hreslain came into view. The town spread from both river banks, linked by a long bridge. On the far bank, the part known as Hresh rose up as a group of towers and elevated walkways from amongst the trees themselves. Selain was more open, and the buildings generally of fewer storeys.

  Even from this distance the destruction wrought by the orks was plain to see. Some of the white buildings were marked with soot and burn marks, their shattered windows reflecting low flames still burning in the settlement. Smoke choked the air.

  A splash drew Aradryan’s attention to the river. Something long and grey, like a giant finned eel, slid through the water just below the surface. There were other things in the water too: corpses. The dead of Hirith-Hreslain floated amongst the reeds, bodies bobbing on the gentle waves.

  Aradryan wanted to look away, but he could not. Morbidly, he watched as the river beast rose to the surface, jaws opening to reveal rows of small serrated teeth. It clamped around the arm of a floating corpse and turned, plunging into the water to drag its meal into the murky depths.