‘But why keep one of those mysteries alive?’ Caeligus asked.
Krevaan looked at both Caeligus and Behrasi before answering. He was sure that Caeligus knew better than his question suggested. The sergeant had a hunger for information that was laudable, but he was impatient, too. Krevaan wasn’t sure that, in his desire to know more, Caeligus had the wisdom to make proper use of the knowledge he had. Behrasi was no less curious, but more patient. He was willing to suspend judgement. Caeligus wanted an immediate verdict.
And what of us? Krevaan wondered. How do we gauge the worth of our own judgement?
By asking the question, he thought. By being aware of the gaps in information. By watching for his blind spots.
The eldar force had suffered badly at the hands of the orks. Even so, it remained a power to be taken seriously. It was based on mobility and speed. Krevaan surmised that the few warriors on foot were ones whose vehicles had been destroyed. All the others were mounted on jetbikes, or the last turreted skimmer.
Vyper, he thought, reviewing his store of knowledge about the eldar. They call it a Vyper. And these are the Saim-Hann. Xenos soldiers obsessed with speed. It occurred to Krevaan that the presence of one of the White Scars might have been useful for the conversation he was about to have. He gave a mental shrug and tossed the idea away. It did him no good, and so was not worth his time.
He knew what he had to accomplish. The task was distasteful. It would involve a measure of trust. It would be provisional, minimal, and fragile. It would also be necessary.
He eyed the eldar as he approached. They were a race that embodied mystery, but not, he thought, because of their mastery of the shadows. He did not believe that their motivations were shrouded. They were, as far as he was able to tell, perverse. That fact did not warrant his respect. It did demand his caution.
On the other side of the gorge, there was no road to the bridge. There were barely any paths through the forest. On this side, though, paving travelled east from the bridge, becoming a wide square after the first cluster of buildings. It was more than enough space for both the eldar and Eighth Company. They faced each other across the square, eldar to the north, Raven Guard to the south. The weapons of both forces were at the ready, though not quite pointing at each other. The fiction was that it would take either group as much as a second to rain death on the other.
Krevaan walked to the middle of the square, then stopped. He folded his arms and waited. An eldar carrying what appeared to be a sniper rifle over his shoulder walked forward to meet him. The xenos wore a cloak that had some sort of active camouflage, and Krevaan found it difficult to track his movements. On instinct, he reached for the shadows around him. He noted their location, their density, how they linked to each other. The lumen globes of Reclamation’s streets were harsh, and the shadows they cast were edged like blades. He decided how best he would kill the eldar walking towards him. He felt the impulse to clench his fist and slash with his talons.
He held himself back.
The eldar stopped a few paces from him, and made a respectful nod. ‘I am Alathannas,’ he said.
‘Do you lead?’ Krevaan asked.
‘No. I speak your language. Will you talk with me?’ His accent in Gothic was odd. It seemed to slip from system to system, sector to sector. It was made of layers, and beneath them was a core that belonged to no human planet at all.
‘I will listen to what you have to say.’
‘That is well. We can work together. We must. I am glad you are here, human. I hoped for your arrival.’
Krevaan gave Alathannas a hard look. The eldar’s face was unshadowed. It had the length and elegance typical of his race, and an openness that appeared to Krevaan to be unfeigned. It was a form of curiosity, an energetic inquisitiveness that was present even in the midst of war. Krevaan recognised and understood the hunger for knowledge that he saw in the eldar’s eyes. But he also saw before him a being who was eager to experience the new. That was an impulse he distrusted.
Alathannas had stopped with a lumen globe shining directly onto him. He had thrown back the hood of his cloak. He was inviting Krevaan’s scrutiny. He wanted the Shadow Captain’s trust. That made Krevaan even more suspicious. ‘Why would you hope that we would come?’ he asked.
‘We cannot stop the orks on our own. And they must be stopped. We must protect the city.’
Krevaan kept his surprise at the vehemence to himself. ‘The city,’ he said, ‘is already well defended.’ He lied to see how the eldar would respond.
‘Not well enough,’ Alathannas said. ‘I believe we both know what route the orks are taking at this moment.’
Krevaan could see strain on his face. That was unusual. When he had served in the Deathwatch, Krevaan had had dealings with the eldar. Violent ones. He had needed to acquire a certain familiarity with the enemy, insofar as it was possible for any human to fathom their alien minds. Alathannas was on the verge of pleading.
We must protect the city. What did he mean by that? Was that the eldar mission on Lepidus? Why? It defied all logic. He did not ask why Reclamation was so important to the Saim-Hann. He would have no faith in the veracity of the answer. He would have to find it himself. He would have to observe the eldar, and see how best to strike. In order to observe them, he would have to offer the simulacrum of trust.
‘The orks must be destroyed,’ he said.
‘Yes,’ Alathannas said. ‘Above all things, yes.’
More strain. Desperation perhaps.
Krevaan nodded. ‘Then cooperation between our forces would be to our mutual advantage.’
Alathannas’s relief was as evident as his tension had been. Krevaan began to feel contempt for this warrior, along with suspicion. He was giving too much away. He should not be so easily read by an opponent. ‘You will liaise?’ Krevaan asked. He looked beyond Alathannas to the eldar host. One figure stood apart, its armour more ornate. You, Krevann thought. You are the commander.
The warrior said something to Alathannas, and though Krevaan could not understand the words, he sensed that they were spoken for his benefit. The voice was female, and rich in authority.
Alathannas acknowledged the commander with a solemn nod. To Krevaan, he said, ‘I will be the bridge between our people.’
‘You understand that you are standing on Imperial soil?’
‘I do. We all do.’
The agreement was too quick in coming. I see, Krevaan thought. You were passing by, noticed the orks invading an Imperial world, and decided to give your lives in an act of transcendent selflessness. Alathannas was lying.
Krevaan added that fragment of information to his store. Then he said, ‘Then I believe cooperation is possible. Speak to your commander. We should discuss our next move.’
‘Did he believe you?’ Eleira asked when Alathannas returned. She removed her helmet.
‘He will work with us, autarch.’
‘That is an equivocation.’
‘I apologise. I don’t know whether he believed me or not. He has extraordinary self-discipline.’
‘For a mon-keigh.’
Alathannas bowed his head. ‘I used body language that should have been interpreted as great eagerness and a certain naïveté. If he thinks his judgement superior to mine, I think he will trust me more. Or at least distrust me less. But I could not tell what he was thinking. I have failed in that regard.’
Eleira drummed her gauntleted fingers once against her armoured thigh. ‘You have had much experience with the mon-keigh on your travels, ranger. I would have thought it useful at a time such as this.’
‘I have never encountered a human like this one.’
‘Then we are hardly better off.’
‘With respect, autarch, we are still alive, capable of fighting, and the orks have not taken the city.’
‘But now the forces of the mon-keigh are i
nvolved.’
‘The city was always in their hands. What is different? With their help, we might be able to stop the orks.’
‘That is not our only goal,’ the autarch reminded him. ‘You are far too sanguine about the human occupation. I wonder if you have been too long within their influence.’
It was difficult to remain upright beneath her gaze. Defiance was out of the question. Eleira’s centuries were visible in the scars she had acquired in countless battles. Their lines, most faint, some fresh, made her face a tapestry of war, and accentuated the sharpness of her skull. Her age was most apparent, though, in her eyes. They had accumulated so much experience, so much pain, and so much anger, that they were the colour of cold metal. They had had all hope scoured from them.
Alathannas chose to think that this absence was an error. He had no illusions about humans. They were a race of violence and waste, one that could be trusted to act, with demoralising consistency, against its own interests. That self-destructive instinct would make them merely pathetic if it did not also have catastrophic results for the rest of the galaxy. Alathannas knew all this, but he had also encountered individual humans who shared his desire to hope. Small as those slivers of optimism were, they were no less real. The alliance he had just forged was of the moment, yes. It was driven by necessity, riven by mistrust. But it had already produced a tangible result. That was worth something.
He wished he could be certain what it was worth.
‘If you think my judgement is flawed,’ he said to the autarch, ‘then disregard it. But please consider the fact that we are having this conversation. If these humans had not arrived, we would have failed in every aspect of our mission. We would be dead, and the orks would be in the city. How long would it be before what we fear came to pass? The effect on the orks is already great. It is calling them. They–’
Eleira held up a hand, silencing him. ‘What do you take me for?’
‘I–’
‘Do you think I am unaware of our situation?’
‘No, autarch. I know that you are.’
‘Then spare me your lectures.’ She gestured to Passavan, who stood a few metres behind. The farseer left the side of his jetbike to join them. As far down the path of the seer as he had travelled, he was still young. There was still a healthy materiality to his frame and his flesh. ‘Your evaluation of our current path,’ Eleira said.
‘The skein is tangled with disaster.’
When Eleira turned to look at the farseer, her lips thin with displeasure, Alathannas saw how exhausted she was. ‘I could have told you that myself,’ she said to Passavan.
Passavan bowed his head. ‘I understand. I wish I could be more precise. But the path we are walking is so frayed, so crossed with conditions and divergence, that any outcome beyond the most immediate is impossible to divine.’
Eleira snorted. ‘I can divine that if we open fire on the force before us, we will be annihilated. You will have to do better. I need to know if this path has a chance of succeeding where it matters most.’
Passavan said, ‘There is a chance.’ He did not sound happy.
‘But?’
‘The route there is so reliant on elements beyond our control. There is very little we can do at this stage to be assured of its outcome. The alliance that lies before us is, however, the only path that has even a remote possibility of success.’
‘We will have to walk carefully, then.’
‘Yes. I will guide us as much as I can. But no matter how cautiously we tread…’
‘Yes,’ said Eleira. ‘That might not make any difference.’ She looked at the humans on the other side of the square. ‘Well. So much for choice, then.’ To Alathannas she said, ‘Do what you can to earn their trust. Without it, much more than our lives is forfeit.’
Chapter Three
The task he had set himself was futile. Behrasi knew this. Even so, he tried to divine the reasons behind Krevaan’s move.
Eighth Company was back at its original base in the land to the south of Reclamation. Behrasi stood outside the command tent, waiting for the Shadow Captain to finish speaking with the commanders of the other missions. Contact had been re-established with Temur Khan and the White Scars. This was a good sign.
Being outside the city, with the eldar inside, on the other hand, was less reassuring. The situation was also too bizarre for Behrasi to dismiss it as a disaster. They had not been forced out, after all. The departure had been Krevaan’s decision. It was the most baffling one that Behrasi had ever known him to make. ‘The orks have a long road to travel,’ Krevaan had said, as the Raven Guard and the eldar discussed strategy. ‘But they will come. We need a more detailed sense of the environs.’
The leader of the eldar had said something to Alathannas. ‘The city must be protected,’ he had translated.
And then Krevaan had said, ‘We will leave it in your care.’ The reaction among the other Raven Guard was one of acute discomfort. The move went against every instinct. It had also not gone over well with the authorities in Reclamation. Governor Kesmir had come to meet Eighth Company as it marched towards the southern exit from the city. He had been accompanied by Cardinal Reithner. The ecclesiarch had been apoplectic.
Krevaan had stood and listened to the duo’s remonstrations for precisely one minute. At the sixty-first second, he had said, ‘My decision is final.’ Then he had resumed walking, and ignored the indignant squawks of the two mortals. They had howled, and the selfishness of their fears had been so clear that Behrasi had, for a moment, rejoiced in the fact that he and his brothers were leaving these two bellowing non-combatants to what they believed to be their fates.
Now, though, his concern had returned with a vengeance. Around him, most of the other sergeants were pacing. Some spoke in groups of two or three. Others kept their thoughts to themselves. Caeligus moved between all of them, demanding answers that none could give. At last, he reached Behrasi’s position.
‘What is he thinking?’ Caeligus said.
‘You don’t really expect me to know that.’
‘Do you realise what we’re risking?’ Caeligus wasn’t listening. ‘How can we walk away from–’
‘Brother,’ Behrasi interrupted. He clamped a hand on Caeligus’s shoulder, hard enough to jolt the other out of his rant. ‘Yes. I am aware of the risk.’
‘We have to do something.’
Behrasi hissed, ‘What are you saying?’ Now he was furious. Caeligus was one very small step away from outright mutiny.
The other sergeant seemed to realise this. He looked at Behrasi as if he hadn’t been seeing him properly until this moment. ‘Your pardon, brother,’ he said. ‘I don’t know what I was saying.’
‘Clearly not.’
Caeligus sighed. ‘That was frustration and ignorance talking. Not me.’
‘It was your voice.’
‘Yes.’ He paused, looking towards the lights of Reclamation. ‘But why, in the name of the Emperor, would he have us leave the city?’
‘The city is not the mission,’ Behrasi said. He felt that he was on the edge of revelation.
‘What?’
‘The city is not our mission. It never was. Remember the larger goal, brother. The orks are our target, and even then in the service of luring the Overfiend. In that context, the city is unimportant. We could achieve our strategic ends even if the city were destroyed.’
‘Maybe,’ Caeligus admitted. ‘But how is our greater purpose served by leaving the eldar in control?’
Behrasi had no answer. He knew he was right, though. He struggled to grasp the truth that hovered just at the limit of his reach.
Krevaan stepped out of the command tent. ‘Please join me, brother-sergeants,’ he said.
Inside, the tacticarium table’s hololith was showing the landscape to the east and north of Reclamation. ‘The greenskins have been
busy,’ Krevaan said. ‘So have our allies. Vox contact has been restored. The White Scars have destroyed their manufactorum on the moon. They have also managed to kill a powerful ork psyker.’
‘That is welcome news,’ Sergeant Klijuun said.
‘Not all of it is. The ork engineer escaped. Temur Khan believes that it has teleported to a planetside location.’
Caeligus said, ‘I don’t see how a single ork tech is of much concern.’
‘This one is. You have paid attention to the tanks we have seen here?’
‘They do seem bigger and more resilient,’ Caeligus admitted. ‘But they are not indestructible.’
‘But do you know how the ork heavy armour has been arriving on Lepidus?’ Krevaan asked. ‘It was being teleported. Do you know what powered the teleporter? A device that turned dozens of captured eldar psykers into a massive battery.’
‘An ork did that?’ Behrasi was stunned.
‘In cooperation with the witch, yes.’
‘If the manufactorum is destroyed,’ Caeligus said, ‘surely the principal means by which this ork could trouble us are gone too.’
Krevaan gave him a sharp look. ‘Do you speak from a position of knowledge, brother-sergeant?’
‘No.’ Caeligus looked defiant. ‘I am basing my conclusion on what we do know.’
‘What we know is that these orks are far more unpredictable, powerful and resourceful than we could have imagined. They had a Stompa on the moon. I, for one, would have been surprised by the sudden arrival of that war machine. Surprise is what we inflict on our enemies. I do not accept being subject to it.’ He turned from Caeligus and addressed the sergeants as a group. ‘We will assume that the greenskin engineer is here, and active in the ork campaign. Expect an increase in heavy armour.’
Caeligus looked like he was on the verge of saying something more. Behrasi willed him to silence. Caeligus seemed to read his mind. He closed his mouth.
Krevaan returned to the table. The hololith had a line running, tracing the circular route the ork army would have to take to get around the gorge. The greenskins had gone north from the fallen bridge. That meant dozens of kilometres before the land dropped enough for it to be possible to ford the river. After that, the orks would still have to travel far to the east as the north boundary of the city was a sharp escarpment. Even allowing for the faster speed of these orks, it was unlikely that the shortest route would bring them close to besieging Reclamation before daylight.
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