Wild Rider - Gav Thorpe

by Warhammer 40K

  ‘Why have you contacted me in this way?’ she asked, almost within reach of Yndrathias. ‘I understand why you might not wish to physically leave Saim-Hann, but there are other means by which we could communicate. My fleet lies just within your main webway gate, after all.’

  ‘I wished to be in your presence,’ said Illiaca. She met Yvraine’s eye with a ghostly stare. ‘To be able to sense the nature of the Opener of the Seventh Way.’

  ‘And what do you feel?’

  ‘Power,’ said Illiaca.

  ‘And emptiness,’ added Yndrathias. ‘The power is not yours, it is Ynnead’s.’

  ‘I make no argument against that,’ said Yvraine. ‘I am the emissary, not the Whispering God herself.’

  ‘The emptiness is not Ynnead,’ said Illiaca. Her image fluttered for a moment as she drifted closer. ‘Is this the aeldari future you promise us?’

  ‘Your soul burns bright,’ replied Yvraine. She reached out, the back of her hand gently caressing the wraith-like cheek of the farseer. Psychic static crawled across her skin and the farseer flinched, tiny black drops of flame falling from where the Opener of the Seventh Way had touched her soul. ‘What will it be like when it is locked away in the infinity circuit? Will you feel the coldness of the crystal? When eventually the defences of the craftworld break for the last time and the Great Enemy sups deeply on all within, what then for Illiaca of Saim-Hann?’

  The shadowy figures moved away as Yvraine advanced into their midst, trying to avoid her, tendrils of their power flowing like black mist from the gem. Yvraine lifted a hand to the crystal, careful not to set her fingers upon it but feigning as though she would snatch it from the air. The farseers made hisses and squeals of protest, their forms becoming even more insubstantial.

  ‘What I promise is the chance to avoid that fate,’ she continued, retreating back to her throne, eyes fixed on the materialising spirits. She sat down, immobile once more. ‘The Rhana Dandra will not work. The last battle against Chaos will end in defeat. Only in the embrace of Ynnead can we continue.’

  Silence descended. The formless seers wavered back and forth for several heartbeats. Yvraine could feel the communion between them but not discern its content. The silhouette of Illiaca thickened again, forming her face in some detail, her brown eyes fixed upon Yvraine.

  ‘Why Clan Fireheart?’ the farseer demanded. ‘Of all the families of Saim-Hann, why choose one of the weakest to lead?’

  ‘It is because you think to dominate them in their vulnerability,’ said Daraesath.

  ‘Does it matter?’ asked Eldrad.

  ‘Of course it matters,’ replied Yndrathias.

  ‘Really?’ Eldrad stroked a finger down the side of his nose in contemplation. ‘So you admit that there exists an argument that would convince you to put forward Clan Fireheart as windrunners?’

  ‘I suppose,’ admitted Yndrathias, withdrawing slightly from Eldrad, gaseous features twisted in perturbation.

  ‘Then let us presume it is so and dispense with the need for the debate,’ said the exiled seer. ‘Do not think that I make such a demand on a whim.’

  The trio of farseers flowed around Eldrad, their eyes alight with ghostfire. He regarded them not with wariness but weariness, evidently tired of their scrutiny.

  ‘It is the cost of our alliance,’ said Eldrad. ‘If you will not agree to this simple condition, our fleet will depart and you will face the necrontyr alone.’

  ‘Monstrous!’ declared Daraesath. The diaphanous figure thrust an accusing figure at Druthkhala. ‘Your messenger stirred up the Endless Dead and now you would abandon us to the destruction caused by your meddling?’

  The Bloodbride smiled.

  ‘It was Nuadhu Fireheart that awakened the tomb,’ she replied. ‘Not I.’

  ‘And you think that he must lead the attack to make amends?’ said Yndrathias. ‘That is why you insist on Clan Fireheart being windrunners?’

  ‘No,’ said Yvraine, the last of her patience worn thin. ‘I insist because I can. I want you to understand that we are not upon the Path of the Trader, bargaining for wares at a market stall. I am the Emissary of Ynnead, the chosen vessel of the God of the Dead. Understand that your craftworld now lives or dies by my will.’

  Daraesath and Yndrathias responded with shocked gasps, and Illiaca pulled her staff close to her chest, both hands clasped about it, head bowed.

  ‘Well earned is the title Daughter of Shadows,’ said the farseer. ‘There is darkness in you, a love for death that has nothing to do with Ynnead.’

  ‘We are all dead, Illiaca. I have accepted this. All that remains is to embrace the chance of glory beyond that point. Only from Ynnead does that light shine.’ She softened her tone. ‘I did not wish this. Do not think that what has come to pass was orchestrated to manipulate Saim-Hann into a position of weakness. I desire only to discover the cronesword yet to be found, and Agari­methea is just one of scores of worlds that drew our interest. Yet I must think of my people, as must you. Ynnari will die to protect Saim-Hann from the necrontyr, if I choose to intervene. All I ask is a show of… faith? Name Clan Fireheart as the wind­runners of your host and the considerable strength of my fleet and army will stand at your side.’

  There was another flutter of psychic communication between the delegates. Yvraine held her breath, wondering if she had pushed the Saim-Hann seers too far. She exhaled slowly to mask her tension, just as Illiaca nodded sombrely.

  ‘We cannot promise that the council will endorse Clan Fireheart,’ the seer warned. ‘If they choose another, will you still fight?’

  ‘This thread of fate was unwittingly spun by Nuadhu Fireheart, only he can sever it,’ replied Eldrad. ‘The expedition shall amount to nothing without Clan Fireheart as windrunners.’

  Yvraine noted that he had avoided the question, but the seers of Saim-Hann were not inclined to pursue the matter directly. Their desperation was almost palpable even across the spatial divide. Eldrad was not prepared to give them any leeway.

  ‘The clans will react poorly to this coercion,’ added Yndrathias.

  ‘Then do not tell them,’ Eldrad said sharply. ‘They know that the craftworld is in danger. Feed them the truth they desire to hear. Tell them that fate demands that you follow a certain road.’

  ‘Your underhand tactics may still work on Ulthwé, Eldrad, but Saim-Hann is not so easily deceived again,’ argued Daraesath.

  ‘Druthkhala will be present,’ said Yvraine, indicating her Bloodbride with a hand. Alorynis bounded down the chamber and up into the surprised warrior’s arms. ‘My fleet will not enter the starspace of your craftworld unless invited, so she will be the sole judge of whether you live up to your part of our agreement.’

  ‘Then we have a pact,’ said Illiaca. The other two seers bowed and dissipated back to the crystal. Illiaca remained a moment longer, her dark eyes turned to Eldrad. ‘I had hoped to say it had been an honour to meet you, but I cannot. It is a disappointment, Eldrad, that one so venerable has become party to these tricks and violence.’

  ‘I accept your rebuke,’ the farseer said calmly.

  ‘We will be ready for when Druthkhala sends word, and shall begin preparations for travel to Agarimethea immediately,’ said Yvraine.

  She flicked out her fan and raised it to her face, ending the discussion. The Emissary of Ynnead felt rather than saw Illiaca withdraw her presence, and a heartbeat later the warlock upon the couch let out a shuddering breath. Eldrad caught the gem as it fell out of the air, and hurried to her side.

  ‘What do you remember?’ he asked, pressing the crystal into her palm as she sat up.

  ‘Nothing,’ the warlock replied. ‘I was asleep?’

  ‘Very well.’ Eldrad helped the warlock to stand. ‘What is your name?’

  ‘Nepharua,’ replied the warlock. She seemed untroubled by her experience, standing without effort
or instability. ‘Of Clan Goldwind.’

  ‘You have done your craftworld a great service today, Nepharua Goldwind,’ said Yvraine. ‘Return now to your people with the good will and best wishes of the Ynnari.’

  When the warlock had departed, Alorynis slipped back to Yvraine, rubbing his cheek against the leg of the throne. She reached down and he used her arm to climb into her lap, where he curled contentedly. Soft snoring swiftly followed.

  ‘Is Nuadhu Fireheart really that important?’ asked Druthkhala, looking first at Yvraine and then Eldrad.

  ‘His thread has become bound to Yvraine’s,’ said Eldrad. ‘Only time will reveal how that will transpire, but it is better to keep him an ally than an enemy, and an ally should always be granted power to act rather than be dominated.’

  Yvraine was tired and stroked a finger across her brow as though to soothe her troubled thoughts. Interacting with the farseers had drained her of what little stamina had remained after her audience with Clan Fireheart.

  ‘I must rest,’ she told her companions. ‘You may go.’

  ‘I will remain,’ said the Visarch. As sometimes happened, so silent and unmoving had he been, Yvraine had nearly forgotten he was present.

  ‘Of course you will,’ she said. She stood, carrying Alorynis, who did not stir, and turned towards the curtain draped across the archway to her private chamber. Her eyes fell upon another, lost deep in thought for much of the conversation, so much so that he had passed the audience entirely without remark or notice – Meliniel. The autarch sat in one corner, hands in his lap, regarding the floor with deliberate interest. Yvraine let her attention flow upon the Whisper and Meliniel looked up, the blood-red gem embedded in his chest gleaming with a pulse of energy. ‘I have no intention of allowing an ill-disciplined Wild Rider to command our host. Meliniel, find out all you can about this tomb world and devise suitable stratagems for the attack.’

  With that matter dealt with, she pushed through the curtain into the welcome solitude of her chamber, trying to calm her whirling thoughts.

  Chapter 11

  DISPUTES

  Even as the starship docked, Nuadhu felt the mental embrace of the ever-present infinity circuit. While the conduit of the Eltereth allowed him to share his presence with those of his family onboard, there was no sensation quite like regaining contact with the mind of the craftworld. It was one of the reasons he was glad to be a Wild Rider rather than exploring his inner nature as an outcast away from Saim-Hann. The thought of spending his life isolated from the place that had raised him set a cold shiver in his heart.

  With the questing aura of the infinity circuit came the connection with what had transpired in their absence. Even before he knew any details, Nuadhu could tell that the mood of Saim-Hann had changed. Explanation came from Alyasa, who entered the chambers of Naiall with a respectful nod, taking his place at the bedside of the comatose lord. The chieftain’s elixir had sustained him long enough to return to the starship, but his condition had rendered him unconscious ever since. Nuadhu sat at his father’s side. His aunt and cousins were close at hand on couches, the tables before them set with the remnants of the last meal.

  ‘I have briefly communed with Almic the Wise,’ the windweaver told them. ‘The seers have called upon the clans to act against the necrontyr of Agarimethea immediately. They have nominated Clan Fireheart to be given the role of windrunners.’

  ‘They want us to lead the warhost?’ Marifsa stood up and crossed the chamber, eyes narrowed in suspicion. She laid a hand on her brother’s arm. ‘Almic and the others must know that Naiall is in no condition to speak for the clan.’

  ‘Is that their intent?’ demanded Neamyh, arms crossed tightly. ‘They would make pawns of us in the absence of our chieftain.’

  ‘Or they know that I will lead in battle,’ said Nuadhu. ‘Or did you think they would dismiss me as easily as my own family, it seems?’

  ‘To be windrunners is more than to form the vanguard of attack, Nuadhu,’ said Alyasa. ‘It is to be in command of all the forces of Saim-Hann.’

  ‘I don’t know why they would pick us,’ said Marifsa. ‘It seems almost antagonistic, given that we have been turned back by the council already.’

  ‘Yvraine demands it.’ They all turned to Druthkhala, who was sat on a chair on the opposite side of the room, long legs stretched before her, hands in her lap. She stood up, hand on hip. ‘Or rather, Eldrad Ulthran has cast your runes and determined that you give Yvraine the greatest chance of victory.’

  ‘I sensed as much when Yvraine spoke of me,’ said Nuadhu before the full content of her explanation settled in his thoughts. The involvement of Eldrad could bode well or poorly given recent events on other craftworlds. ‘What has the seer of Ulthwé to do with this?’

  ‘He is of the Ynnari now, not Ulthwé, and travels with the fleet. Your seers contacted him after your audience with Yvraine.’

  ‘But the clans will refuse to follow the will of Eldrad,’ said Marifsa. ‘They are suspicious enough of our own seers. The fear of being manipulated by Eldrad will outweigh any good of acting against the necrontyr.’

  Nuadhu thought it odd that his aunt talked about the clans as though Clan Fireheart were something apart from them. Had she already surrendered any thought of a return to influence?

  ‘I am certain Eldrad’s name will not arise in the debate,’ said Alyasa. He glared at Druthkhala. ‘I was unaware of any communication between the seers and your fleet.’

  ‘They sent an emissary to act as a conduit, so that their purpose would be hidden on the skein,’ explained the Bloodbride. She looked at Naiall. ‘Not unlike our own expedition.’

  Reminded of their subterfuge and, it might be claimed, underhand dealings with Yvraine, the highest members of Clan Fireheart offered no further complaint and instead prepared to disembark. Nuadhu took Marifsa, Druthkhala and Alyasa to one side.

  ‘My father is in no state to attend a council,’ he told them, looking at Naiall with a sad glance. ‘I am a Wild Rider, unable to speak for the clan. Alyasa, as our windweaver you can act as Naiall’s proxy.’

  ‘And when demand is made regarding your father’s absence?’ said Alyasa. ‘When not ten cycles past he attended council?’

  ‘His indisposition is no secret, we do not have to offer details,’ replied Nuadhu. ‘When does the council start?’

  ‘The seers awaited our return before extending their invitation to the Hall of Considered Light. Debate will commence with the start of the next cycle.’

  ‘Then we still have half a cycle to ready ourselves.’ Nuadhu looked at Druthkhala. ‘Is there anything else we should know, about Eldrad and Yvraine? Have they said why I am key to victory?’

  ‘I did not say you were the key to victory,’ replied the Bloodbride, puncturing his pride. ‘Only that your leadership grants the best probability of a favourable outcome for all of us. You should know better than to read personal success into the foretelling of the seers. Where Eldrad is concerned, only Ynnead’s raising matters to him. He sacrificed millions of your people’s souls in his attempt to awaken Ynnead. Do not think for a moment that the life of one Wild Rider overly vexes his deliberations.’

  Nuadhu wanted to know whether her warning was specific to him, but knew she would not say. Instead he leaned closer, trying to ignore the intoxicating smell of her. ‘Not just a Wild Rider, but Lord of the Wild. When I call, the Wild Riders answer. What support from Yvraine can we expect?’

  ‘All that she has,’ said Druthkhala. ‘As she told you herself. An army the match of anything that you can muster, be sure.’

  ‘Even so, I will speak with some of our allied clans,’ said Alyasa. ‘Yvraine and Eldrad count for nothing in the council. The voice of other chieftains will hold more weight alongside the seers.’

  ‘I will speak with the exarchs,’ said Marifsa, a reminder than she was currently upon the Path o
f the Warrior, a Fire Dragon from the Shrine of the Golden Flame. ‘The avatar does not stir, but the chosen of Khaine are always eager for battle. It will mean nothing in the debate, but if we are to go to war, the support of the shrine-squads will be very welcome.’

  Nuadhu watched the two of them depart, joined by his cousins at the door, leaving him alone with Druthkhala and his father.

  ‘There is much going on,’ he said with a lopsided smile. ‘I fear I have little chance to acquaint myself with you better.’

  ‘Should all go well, you have your whole life ahead for us to become better acquainted,’ Druthkhala replied. She threw a glance at Naiall. ‘Look after your father, Nuadhu. Be sure of what you want, for when we enter battle you must be focused on our goal and nothing else.’

  ‘I shall hold you to that promise,’ he said, ignoring the second part of what she had said. He started to reach out to her, but she slipped past.

  ‘I will see you in the Hall of Considered Light,’ she said over her shoulder.

  And then she too was gone and he stood alone in the chamber, the stillness broken only by the laboured breathing of his father. He recalled not only Druthkhala’s reaction but Yvraine’s extraordinary conduct towards Naiall. He bent over his father, brushing a bead of sweat from the chieftain’s face.

  ‘What did you do?’ he whispered. ‘What claim does the God of the Dead have over you?’

  He wished he could stay longer, drawing strength from his father even in his beset condition. There was no time; he would have to rouse the Wild Riders soon and needed to be ready for the challenges of the council.

  With some trepidation, Caelledhin stood at her father’s side in council once more, though on this occasion the venue was not the Flameglades but the Hall of Considered Light. The dome was small compared to most on the craftworld, one of a handful clustered close to the infinity circuit hub nestled within the substructure of Saim-Hann.