Path of the Seer

by Gav Thorpe

  ‘You don’t believe me?’ said Thirianna.

  ‘You offer me no proof, and there is none to give, belief alone is dust,’ replied Morlaniath.

  This was proving even harder than Thirianna had envisaged. She needed a strategy, an approach that might appeal to the vestiges of Korlandril harboured inside the group-mind of the exarch. To give herself time to think, Thirianna stood and walked to the pool’s edge. She dipped her booted toe into the waters, sending a ripple across the surface. It was a subconscious act, but it created a reaction in the exarch. His thoughts were disturbed, just as the water was disturbed. Thirianna thought of the skein; of the ripples caused by action that spread across space and time.

  Korlandril was in there somewhere; perhaps she could bring him to the fore with something familiar to both of them.

  ‘I followed the fate of Aradryan,’ she said. She could not judge his thoughts, his face hidden from view, but she could sense another bubble of activity within Morlaniath’s spirit as he searched his memories. She pressed on, hoping that Korlandril still recognised the name. ‘Our three destinies are interwoven. More than we have seen already. Yours is not ended, but will soon; his is distant and confused. Mine… mine is to be here, to tell you these things to set in motion future events.’

  This last was not entirely true, but Thirianna considered herself an agent of destiny now.

  ‘What is it you have seen, what visions bring such woe, what do they mean for us?’

  A single personality was asserting itself; Thirianna could sense it in the skein, one thread growing thicker than the others. Her eyes confirmed as much; one of the spirit stones in the exarch’s armour glowed brighter while the others dimmed. It had to be Korlandril, becoming more focussed, drawn out by familiarity. That he had asked the question bolstered Thirianna’s confidence again. The exarch wanted to know what she had seen.

  ‘Aradryan dwells in darkness, but there is also light for him,’ she said, affecting the tone of language used in the council. If it was right for the autarchs it might work on the exarch. ‘But his darkness is not confined to him. It spreads into our lives, and it engulfs Alaitoc. I do not know the details; my rune-casting is very crude at the moment. I feel he has done something gravely wrong and endangered all of us.’

  ‘Your warnings are too vague, they contain no substance, we have no course of action,’ replied Morlaniath. He turned his head away, his attention straying back towards the shrine hidden somewhere in the dunes.

  Thirianna gave voice to her disappointment, finding no more support here than in the council.

  ‘That is what the council says. “How can we prepare against something so amorphous?” they asked. I told them that more experienced seers should follow the thread of Aradryan. They refused, claiming it was an irrelevance. Aradryan is gone from Alaitoc, they told me, and he is no longer their concern.’

  The exarch did not reply to this immediately. Thirianna felt a tremor of contact buzzing through her mind. She risked a glance into the skein and saw Korlandril’s thread touching upon hers. Korlandril’s, not Morlaniath’s. He was remembering her. Hopefully the memories were good ones. His next words dashed that hope.

  ‘Continue your studies, delve further into this, to seek your own answers,’ said the exarch.

  ‘I fear there is no time,’ said Thirianna. She had to force Morlaniath to confront the issue now. ‘This is imminent. I lack the strength and the training to see far ahead.’

  ‘Others have not seen it, your fresh cataclysm, who are stronger than you,’ remarked the exarch. Korlandril’s spirit was weakening again, moving away from Thirianna. ‘I must concur with them, who have trodden the Path, who see further than you.’

  ‘It is such a small thing, whatever it is that Aradryan does,’ Thirianna said quickly, making a last effort to establish a connection with the afterthought of Korlandril. She reminded herself that she had seen Morlaniath convince Arhathain to help her. It was possible, if she could find the right approach. She stooped and took a pinch of sand, rubbing her fingers to spill it to the ground until she held a single grain. She flicked it into the waters of the pool. ‘Such a tiny ripple, we can barely see it, but a ripple nonetheless. The anarchy of history tells us that momentous events can start from the most humble, the most mundane of beginnings.’

  ‘I have no aid for you, no council influence, and I agree with them,’ said Morlaniath. ‘Go back to your studies, forget this distraction, I will not assist you.’

  The words were harsh, the essence of Korlandril fading away. Disappointment welled up from within Thirianna. She had failed to accomplish even this simple task.

  ‘I feared the worst, and you have proven me true,’ she said, trying hard to hold back the tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks. ‘Korlandril is not dead, but he has gone.’

  ‘Which you once predicted, that both of us would change, for better or for worse,’ said Morlaniath. Thirianna wondered if the exarch was throwing that sentiment back at her out of spite or merely making an observation. ‘I am Morlaniath, you are Thirianna, Korlandril is no more. Seek contentment from this, do not chase the shadows, only darkness awaits.’

  ‘Do you not remember what we once shared?’ she said, out of desperation.

  ‘I remember it well, we shared nothing at all, I have nothing for you.’

  Thirianna straightened and wiped a gloved finger across her cheek, a tear soaking into the soft fabric.

  ‘You are right,’ she said. ‘I will leave and think of you no more.’

  She bunched up her robe and strode up the encircling dune, heading towards the main portal. She felt the presence of Morlaniath behind her for some of the way, shadowing her progress, and then he stopped, leaving her to depart.

  She felt a trickle of psychic energy and the portal ahead opened. In that instant, the exarch’s mind was open, and out of desperate instinct, Thirianna made contact for a moment, propelling her sadness and shame into the mind of the exarch.

  The link broke and she passed out of the dome, at a loss as to what she would do next.

  It was late in the following cycle when Thirianna received a summons from Kelamith to attend him in the Chambers of the Seers. It was most definitely a summons and not an invitation, and Thirianna’s thoughts were quivering with trepidation as she made her way to see her mentor.

  She found him alone, standing in front of the Orb of Elmarianin, a great sphere of ruby-red crystal almost as tall as the farseer, which glimmered with psychic energy, motes of power moving slowly through its depths. The farseer’s face was reflected ruddily in hundreds of its facets, each appearing slightly different.

  Kelamith turned at her approach, expression stern.

  ‘It is a curious thing,’ said Kelamith, gesturing to the orb. ‘Created by Elmarianin before I was born, this device allows the seer council to combine their powers of divination. Its use takes a toll on the infinity circuit and those who employ it.’

  ‘Yes, I have read about the Orb of Elmarianin,’ said Thirianna. She was confused, unable to see the point being made by the other farseer.

  ‘Speaking of curious things, I have just returned from a gathering of the senior seers,’ continued Kelamith, eyes fixed on Thirianna. ‘We we’re called together by Autarch Arhathain. He has reconsidered your contribution to the council and feels it merits more attention.’

  Thirianna felt a surge of satisfaction, though she tried hard to conceal it. Then worry took its place.

  ‘I am honoured,’ she said. She kept her expression neutral, wary of betraying any sense of guilt. ‘Did the autarch explain his change of mind? Did my arguments perhaps persuade him to judge again what I have seen?’

  ‘He was reluctant to expand on that point,’ said Kelamith, still staring intently at Thirianna. She sensed curiosity rather than suspicion and relaxed a little. ‘It is almost without precedent, for the council to return to such a decision. Arhathain was most eloquent in his persuasion, insistent even. We have acquiesced t
o the autarch’s wishes, and will search for this doom you witnessed.’

  ‘I am pleased,’ said Thirianna, knowing that it would be strange for her to pretend indifference at such a turn of events. ‘I also hope that I am mistaken, and that more experienced minds brought to the matter will allay any fears the autarch may have.’

  ‘Indeed,’ said Kelamith.

  He turned back to the orb, laying a gloved hand upon its surface. When he spoke his tone seemed casual, but his words struck a chill through Thirianna.

  ‘It is a grave offence to mislead the council,’ said Kelamith. ‘The skein is not a plaything. It is a powerful force, one that we must always approach with due gravitas and dignity. To use its power for selfish means, to pursue self-aggrandisement, is to invite anarchy.’

  Thirianna said nothing, though her heart beat faster. She calmed herself quickly, rationalising that if Kelamith and the others believed she had acted wrongly in some way, they would not have agreed to Arhathain’s request for further investigation. Kelamith was baiting her, she decided, trying to get her to reveal her secret.

  ‘Do you know the punishment for such a transgression?’ said the senior farseer. Thirianna could see him watching her in the reflections of the orb. She shook her head. ‘It is a cruel thing, one that we each despise, yet it is one of our oldest laws. One who misuses the skein in a grievous manner is banished from the council of seers.’

  ‘That seems justified,’ replied Thirianna, unsure what was so heinous about such a punishment.

  ‘The offender is barred from all rune-casting, and to ensure compliance the perpetrator is taken to the Halls of Isha,’ continued Kelamith. His voice was quiet, filled with sadness. ‘He or she is subjected to a procedure that removes the parts of the brain that bolster our psychic strength. The criminal is cut off from the skein, unable to interact with the infinity circuit.’

  That sounded a lot worse to Thirianna, though she still did not understand why Kelamith seemed to loathe it so much. His following words brought home the full extent of the injunction, as he turned and looked at Thirianna directly.

  ‘It is a far harsher punishment than death,’ he said. ‘It is the ultimate banishment, Thirianna. Forget for the moment the power to traverse the skein and witness the future. Think on those things that you take for granted, small acts you perform every day. Your chambers respond to your thoughts, warming and cooling, lightening and darkening as you desire. You would only be able to communicate through the spoken word, unable to access the infinity circuit.’

  He took a step closer, eyes boring into Thirianna.

  ‘Even more than that, you do not see what you would lose by such a punishment. We each touch upon one another in subtle ways. We read each other not just physically but with our thoughts. We have bonds between us stronger than family and friendship. Every Alaitocii is bound together through the infinity circuit, and every craftworld tied to a single fate through the eternal matrix. To be cast from that is to be something other than eldar. Loneliness and despair, cut off from that most instinctive of contact, will haunt the criminal. They will watch and hear life around them, but they will not feel it.’

  It was truly a greater punishment than Thirianna had appreciated. To lose one’s sight, one’s hearing, one’s sense of touch or smell would be unfortunate enough. To have part of one’s spirit taken away, to be rendered mundane, to lose a huge part of the essence of being eldar, would be crippling.

  ‘That is severe indeed,’ she said, keeping her tone even. ‘With such an injunction as a threat, I cannot imagine anyone wishing to transgress such a law. I cannot imagine it has ever been put into practice.’

  ‘Then your studies are incomplete,’ said Kelamith. He waved a hand to the orb. ‘Elmarianin suffered such a fate. His genius in creating this device was marred by his motives for doing so. He did not like the idea of the council holding power over him and so he sought to place himself above the other seers. He was the most powerful seer Alaitoc has known, and could wield the orb by himself. He used its power to interfere in the lives of the council, placing them in his debt, creating weakness and division.’

  ‘How was he stopped?’ Thirianna asked. She was horrified by the tale and wondered why she had not heard it before.

  ‘One of the seers, Aranduirius, was brave, and spoke to the others of Elmarianin’s manipulation of her,’ said Kelamith. ‘Each put aside their pride and confessed Elmarianin’s control, spurred by Aranduirius’s example. Together, as a council, they confronted him and subjected him to the law.’

  Kelamith came closer, seeming to grow in height as he approached, until he was standing less than an arm’s length away; his presence invaded the space around Thirianna but she could not step back. The witchlight gleamed in the farseer’s eyes and when he spoke, it was with the distant tone Thirianna recognised as his voice of prophecy.

  ‘Thirianna is taken to the Halls of Isha, where she undergoes the Ritual of Cleaving,’ intoned the farseer. This was not idle threat; this was a vision, one of Thirianna’s possible futures. She backed away, frightened by the pale blue orbs that stared at her. Kelamith followed, taking a step closer, keeping within touching distance. ‘She is shamed, cast out of the council. Her mind is broken, her ambition crushed. In atonement she seeks the Path of Service. Still she does not find peace. Her empathy has been taken, her telepathy stolen. She wanders Alaitoc, a ghost-like creature subjected to scorn and pity in equal measure. Alone, cast out, terrified by the long half-existence that stretches before her, Thirianna takes the star-walk, casting herself into the void from the Bridge of Tranquillity.’

  The horrifying gleam of Kelamith’s eyes seemed to envelop Thirianna as he projected the vision. She drifted for a moment in the freezing vacuum, as empty as the void that consumed her.

  Thirianna shrieked and fell back, landing heavily. When she looked up, Kelamith was standing over her, the witchlight gone, one hand extended to help her up.

  ‘That future will not come to pass,’ said the farseer, pulling Thirianna to her feet. He shook his head with disappointment. ‘You think I am so vile as to heap such a punishment upon a misguided act?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Thirianna. She trembled, the memory of her freezing death still grasping her heart with its cold touch.

  ‘What you did was vain, and foolish, but no more than some of the other things you have done since coming to me,’ said Kelamith. He laid a hand on Thirianna’s shoulder and squeezed gently. ‘I must believe that you acted out of genuine concern for Alaitoc, and your persistence does you credit. So too the manner of your manipulation. Now you have witnessed properly the power the skein grants to us, and I trust that you will not abuse it again.’

  ‘Does the council know of this?’ Thirianna asked, wondering if Kelamith’s forgiveness might prove irrelevant.

  ‘They do not,’ said the farseer. ‘They are quick to put down Arhathain’s change of heart to a whim of interest. You must recover yourself; other members of the council will be arriving soon.’

  ‘They are coming here?’ Thirianna glanced at the glowing orb.

  ‘It will be the quickest way to put this matter to rest. If there is some echo of Alaitoc’s doom to be found, we will find it.’

  The skein was alight with the prying minds of the eldar. They stood in a circle around the Orb of Elmarianin, each surrounded by a small constellation of orbiting runes. The air glowed with the ruddy power of the orb and the witchlight of the seers, casting marbled reflections of red and blue across the chamber. The facets of the massive gem reflected the assembled seers, picturing them from every perspective, alone and together. The bright points of light shifted in its depths, converging and splitting, forming arcs of light that mirrored the patterns being woven by the seers’ runes.

  The gleam of the orb grew stronger as each psyker moved his or her mind into its crystalline form, refracting their spirits through the prism of its construction, their foresight multiplying and diverging.

 
Thirianna channelled herself through her rune, letting consciousness slip into the orb, feeling its cold edges breaking apart her thoughts, disassembling her mind. Ignoring the strange sensation, she did her best to guide her fellow seers to the location of the event she had seen.

  She cast the Wanderer, attaching it to her own rune, so that it would bring her to the thread of Aradryan. She felt the minds of the council nearby, watching her, judging her. She tried to put aside their scrutiny. It did not matter if they faulted her technique as clumsy or her divination as naive; all that mattered was finding the glimmer of Alaitoc’s death.

  Aradryan’s life unfolded rapidly as Thirianna surged across the skein, following the winding trail of his fate. She felt a little guilty, exposing her friend’s being to the observation of so many, but she knew no other course to take.

  Some of the seers were already branching off, intrigued by spiralling possibilities hinted at by the outcast’s actions. Having agreed to Arhathain’s wishes, they put their full effort into resolving the problem. Thirianna would have felt pleased by this dedication had not a few of them remarked beforehand that they were keen to get this nonsense dealt with quickly so that they could return to their normal studies.

  Aradryan’s immediate future settled quickly, the disparate strands melting away as possibilities were ended. His fate was narrowing to a point, a single strand from which he could not escape.

  The farseers crowded close, eager to see this pivotal moment.

  A pulse shook the skein. To the eye of Thirianna’s mind, it took on a blood-red hue and a deep rumble echoed across its length and breadth. Crimson blood flowed along every strand, dripping from life to life, while fire sprang into being, burning vast swathes of the skein.

  A single rune blazed above all others. Like a beacon of white fire, the symbol of Khaine the Bloody-Handed obliterated the skein, devouring all life.