Hello again chaps, a combination of factors slowed down the writing of this chapter. Firstly, I have been extremely busy with Uni work. Secondly, the chapter itself was one that I really had to grapple with. I just kept finding myself unhappy with it, fortunately now, I think I've managed to get it into a nice spot. Not much action in this one, as I needed to set up the Eldar perspective. Don't worry though the next chapter will really start to get the ball rolling…Hopefully!


Chapter 3 – An Aspect For Every Future

Aristriel watched as the mon'keigh mounted on his injured beast of burden rode out of sight. He'd been lucky, if his mount hadn't tripped, her shuriken would have taken his head off. She scowled in vexation underneath her mask at the enemy's lucky escape. Farseer Ullaryne had given strict orders that none of the mon'keigh must escape to warn the rest of their comrades at the temple.

She had first picked out the soldier after he'd managed to drop one of her fellow banshees, from then on, she had hunted him across the battlefield. The whole thing had been a source of endless frustration, every time she seemed to get close enough to strike him down, another mon'keigh would move to block her path, slowing her down. Her last chance had been to kill him in the saddle but alas it was not to be.

Surveying the wooded expanse around her, it was obvious that the battle was coming to a close; the corpses of Imperial Guardsman littered the ground. Any of their wounded were being quickly dispatched by prowling rangers, their mulling cries abruptly silenced.

Sighing at her failure, she walked back through the woods to where the Farseer overlooked the battlefield. The mist, summoned by the master sorcerer, was beginning to dissipate now, it's purpose having been fulfilled.

The Farseer, wearing a dark blue robe with her pale-yellow winged helm, was standing alongside Autarch Bararos equally well adorned in dark blue armour with great wings of blue and yellow feathers sprouting from his back, his face hidden by a pale-yellow war mask.

Aristriel approached them, "My Lord and Lady, I bring poor tidings indeed, a mon'keigh was able to escape, much to my shame." She said apologetically.

The Autarch and Farseer stood as still as statues in absolute silence, the only movement being that of the wind, catching at the feathers of the Autarch's wings and the Farseer's robes. both looking down the slope at the aftermath of the carnage. Aristriel knew they were most likely speaking telepathically to one another, after a few moments the Autarch spoke. "Hmmm, this changes things." He said thoughtfully. His voice confident and haughty; used to the burden of command. "It is as you foresaw my Lady." He said addressing the Farseer.

More silence followed, Aristriel was about to beg her leave when she heard footsteps behind her. Turning around she was confronted with a dozen of her fellow sisters of the Howling Banshee Aspect shrine; in their midst was a dishevelled and battered mon'keigh.

Another oddity that Aristriel had noticed was that all the mon'keigh she had fought in the ambush had been almost as tall if not the same height as her and her fellow Eldar. From what she had read, unaugmented humans should have been far shorter. How bizarre.

As the group halted the prisoner was shoved onto his knees, his tattered clothes bearing the various symbols of authority.

Exarch Teltera moved past Aristriel to speak to the Farseer and Autarch who only now had turned to see what all the commotion was about. "My Lord and Lady, we have captured the mon'keigh commander, as you instructed" she said confidently while offering a low bow. "Very good, Exarch you have performed admirably once again, as have your sisters." He said, turning his attention to the kneeling captive. He quickly fell into silence once more whether he was in quiet contemplation or he was communicating with the Farseer again, Aristriel couldn't tell.

As for the prisoner, Aristriel took in his details. She had never properly inspected a mon'keigh before. What shocked her was that underneath the layer of blood and dirt was a handsome face with bright blue eyes and blond hair. Not exactly the ugly violent barbarians she'd always envisioned.

The silence was broken by the Autarch who spoke in the savage's harsh guttural tongue. Aristriel flinched at the strange language as if it were a physical blow, grating against her ears. She could tell by the Autarch's manner that he was just as revolted for having to use such a lower form of communication. The human remained silent, undisguised hatred and disgust plastered on his face. Bararos tried once more but his only answer was more silence. He turned to the Farseer, giving a slight nod, before taking a pace backwards.

Ullaryne stepped forward to stand in front of the kneeling human, the savage barely even registered his new interrogator, his eyes closed as his mouth moved in whispered prayer. Ullaryne spoke to the human, a clear edge to her noble voice. Even though Aristriel didn't understand the language, she understood enough by the tone of her words. Ullaryne was giving him one last chance to answer their questions. This time in way of response, the stubborn brute spat a glob of spit and blood; the liquid projectile hitting the Farseer on her left shin.

Aristriel and the small group held their breath, the insolence of this creature was beyond mere words. The air suddenly became incredibly cold, even the light from the sun seemed to dim. The red lenses of the Farseer's winged helm shone brightly as white lightning appeared to dance across her forearms. The mon'keigh's eyes grew wide with fear at the sight of the enraged sorcerer. Ullaryne held her arms towards the human, who was desperately trying to wriggle out of his bonds. White lighting shot from her hands and struck the human instantly, his face a rictus of pain as his mouth opened in a silent scream. His eyes moving rapidly in random directions as his brain tried to comprehend its own suffering. Despite Aristriel's hatred for the lesser races, even she felt a sliver of pity for the savage.

For almost thirty seconds, the human was made to endure the agony, after which the Farseer relented. Even after she stopped, white lightning continued to sporadically dance across the man's torso; causing the man to spasm whenever it did so. The question was put to him once more and to Aristriel's disbelief he still refused to answer. Bravery or idiocy? It's a mon'keigh…so the latter. The lighting sprang forth once more from the Farseer's hands; on and on the cycle went but eventually the mon'keigh's resolve broke. Tears streaked down his face in defeat as he finally answered the Farseer, his entire body sagging, utterly crestfallen.

The Autarch nodded to the Farseer that he was satisfied with the human's response. "Exarch Teltera, kill him!" ordered Bararos, reverting to Aelderi.

"It shall be done my Lord" replied the Banshee in an obedient tone. The approach of the Banshee with a drawn power sword made the human give a sickly grin, he shouted a challenge towards the retreating Autarch; walking away with the Farseer in tow. The human's defiance had quickly returned, Aristriel noted, much to her own annoyance. His impertinence has lasted long enough. She thought.

Bararos called back over his shoulder, "Exarch, the mon'keigh has requested to die like a true warrior. That decision I shall leave to you." He continued to walk away. The Exarch stared at the human through the lenses of her Banshee mask, considering his plea. Aristriel's own thoughts were interrupted by the Farseer's voice, "Aspect I have need to speak with you, time is of the essence!"

"Yes, my Lady." Thought Aristriel.

Aristriel made to follow the two leaders but the mon'keigh's arrogant manner stopped her, without thinking she called out to the Exarch, "Exarch Teltera, I request the honour to duel the savage!"

The banshee switched between the human and her subordinate with a quick turn of the head. "If that is your wish Aristriel, although I wouldn't call it much of an honour." She looked down at the kneeling mon'keigh, "An infant would put up more of a challenge" her voice dripping with derision. The human returned her glare with one of his own.

Word spread quickly among the Eldar forces that a duel would take place. Within a few minutes a circle had formed, made up of Banshees, Rangers and Dire Avengers. Aristriel found herself inside the circle staring at her opponent. The human had been released from his bonds, but was still kneeling, his mouth moving silently. Evidently, saying the last writes to his corpse Emperor. Once he had finished, he stood slowly.

Aristriel was no expert on human anatomy but even she could see he was exhausted, his body even more sluggish and ungainly than usual for those of his kind. She surmised that his injuries were only amplifying the effect. Despite this though, his face remained impassive, hiding his thoughts and his pain. She begrudgingly respected that, to embrace one's own demise with a straight face was no easy feat.

A Banshee threw a power sword into the ring which landed at the man's feet, kicking up dirt and pine needles as it landed. His face split into revulsion at the idea of handling an alien blade and refused to pick it up. Instead he reached behind his back to draw his own short sword that every one of the tall human soldiers carried. A symbol of honour or some sort of subculture perhaps? She sheathed her own sword and drew her wraith bone dagger in an honourable gesture; the human recognising the gesture gave a curt nod.

Both parties began to circle, sizing one another up. Aristriel could hear the sound of her own elevated heartbeat echoing inside her helmet. The tension of promised violence, causing knots to form in her stomach. The familiar feeling, one she had experienced countless times. The crowd around them was silent, watching intently from behind their helmets, masks, or hoods.

Without warning the human burst into motion rushing towards her in a head long charge roaring his war cry. He swiped across with his blade in wide arc, aimed towards her neck. She ducked beneath the blow and lunged towards the man's chest. For an injured man he moved quickly, sidestepping her lunge he replied with his own. Aristriel dodged the attack with a small back step. Expertly passing her dagger from her right hand to left, she grabbed the man's sword arm: locking it with her own, trapping him with her at his back. In a blur of movement, she reached over the man with her left hand, the dagger gleaming in the sunlight before she rammed the blade into the brute's rip cage: passing straight through his pitiful excuse for armour.

He shuddered at the impact, a stream of blood flowing out of his chest as Aristriel retracted the dagger. He tried to recover, but his strength failed him, dropping his blade, he fell on to his back. His breath ragged while his lifeblood drained from his body. Must have punctured a lung. His right hand feebly dragging around in the pine needles, desperately trying to grab the handle of his short sword.

At first Aristriel thought that he was trying to continue the bout, but she quickly realised that he merely wanted to die with a sword in his hand. She hesitated but after how he'd been tortured and been forced to watch those under his command perish, Aristriel believed he had earned this small comfort. Picking up the sword, she placed it into his palm. His fingers immediately curled around it. She was wary that he might try a last parting shot but instead he grasped the hilt and locked eyes with the red lenses of her mask. His blue eyes full of thanks before glazing over in death.

The whole fight had lasted less than a minute, using the unsoiled parts of the man's khaki coloured shirt, Aristriel cleaned the blood from her dagger. Once she was satisfied that the blade was clean, she stood up and slipped the weapon back into its sheath on her forearm. The crowd that had gathered to watch, were already dispersing to go about their own tasks. Aristriel headed towards the Autarch and the Farseer who were now standing on the road. Not wanting to keep them waiting, she moved down the slope to join them.

Bararos turned mid-sentence at the sight of Aristriel, "Ah, is this your Aspect, Lady Ullaryne?"

"She's the one." She said calmly. "Thank you for coming my dear, we have a task for you. Thanks to your warning we now know that our plan must change accordingly."

Aristriel unsure as to how to respond was saved the need for response as the Autarch unexpectedly asked her a question first. "Aspect, you were a ranger were you not, before you joined the Howling Banshees?" asked Bararos.

"I was my Lord." Replied Aristriel, hints of uncertainty creeping into her voice.

"Very good, then you will have no trouble navigating the wilds of this place. Now, I'm sure Farseer Ullaryne can properly brief you for your mission. I must bid you farewell, warriors won't marshal themselves." He snorted at his small jest before turning on his heels and marching away, calling out orders to various groups of assembled warriors.

"You must excuse him my dear, he has always been restless, never capable of staying in one place for long."

"An Aspect warrior through and through." Replied Aristriel wistfully. The Farseer removed her winged helm, revealing a beautiful face with dark purple eyes and raven black hair. She smiled at Aristriel, "A very apt description" she chortled.

"My Lady, what is it that you have planned for me?" Aristriel asked curiously.

"Ah yes that, our original plan was to destroy the garrison using the element of surprise to secure the Artefact, unfortunately that is no longer possible. So, this is where you come in. Just South West of here lies a river that flows from the Black Craggs. Part of the river runs underground, flowing right underneath the Old One's Temple. The human garrison are using it as a well inside the temple to keep themselves hydrated and I'm sure you can work out where the water comes from. "

"The underground river." The Farseer nodded. "You want me to infiltrate the Temple, using the well. Won't the area be crawling with mon'keigh, how am I supposed to get past them?"

"Very perceptive of you" beamed the Farseer. "Bararos will feign an assault on the Temple, which will draw the mon'keigh away from the Omnicron giving you the chance to take it, right from underneath their very noses."

"Understood Farseer."

"As for the Omnicron, do not attempt to pick it up with your bare hands. There are very few capable of doing so. Instead use this, be careful mind, it's very fragile and I doubt I'll be able to make another one anytime soon" she said, handing over a small wraith glass capsule. Upon closer inspections, Aristriel noticed a strange blue aura slowly orbit the fist-sized box.

"Thank you for this honour my Lady, I shall not fail you!" said Aristriel in awe, carefully placing the gift inside a pouch on her side.

"I'm sure you will not. One last thing Aspect. I noticed you eagerly volunteered to duel that mon'keigh commander. Why did you do it?" She enquired, her eyes studying Aristriel, keen to gain an insight into the young Eldar's actions. Even underneath her mask Aristriel could feel the intense scrutiny of the Farseer's gaze as if it were a pressure weighing down upon her.

"I lost my family when the Imperium attacked our home, I wasn't there to help them as I was on the far side of the galaxy. As soon as word got to me, I moved as quickly as possible to return to defend Alaitoc." Aristriel fought fiercely to keep her emotions under control at the resurfacing of those bitter memories. "Regrettably, by the time I arrived, the mon'keigh had fled and my kin… they lay slain."

"You duelled him as an act of vengeance?" She asked, her voice full of concern.

"No, as a way of proving to myself that the pain these beasts inflicted on me that day has only strengthened my resolve." Aristriel could feel the anger rising within her but she pushed it back down.

The Farseer gave a sad smile at her response, "Our people have been forced to endure much, your story is but one of many. You have suffered greatly at the hands of these revolting barbarians and I can understand your feelings. However, never allow your emotions to cloud your own judgement or to push you towards action that would be considered reckless."

Aristriel nodded along, taking in the Farseer's words. "Your sage advice is always welcome Farseer Ullaryne. If it is not too much to ask, may I ask something of you my Lady?"

"Of course, my dear. What is it?"

"Why choose me for this task? There are many warriors who are considerably more experienced and skilled than I. Are they not better suited?" The Farseer bristled at this, raising an eyebrow.

"It is true, you are not the best swordsman or the best marksman, nor are you the stealthiest of our warriors." The Farseer paused, reorganising her thoughts.

"The reason you have been chosen is because in all other futures where other warriors have been selected, leads to failure. You on the other hand, are the only one that has the possibility of success in our endeavour, although that future is…unorthodox." The way the Farseer's eyes seemed to glint at the words 'unorthodox' made Aristriel pensive. Unorthodox? By Asuryan, what does she mean by that? Aristriel decided it was best not to pry, she had her orders now, she would carry them out.

"By your leave my Lady, I must journey onward."

"May Isha's light guide you Aspect." Smiled the Farseer. Her smile genuine and full of warmth.

Aristriel bowed once more and left the Farseer to her own machinations. She took off at the jog, heading South West, through the trees and the undergrowth. The world passing by her in a blur. She had her mission and by Khaine's blood, she would not fail.


Review responses:

Deadmanforever90 – Wow, that's high praise indeed, thank you. You have no idea how many times I've written and rewritten chapters. Setting the scene, making sure the story flows is one of the biggest challenges.

Hathagat – Ha-ha, love it! I'm quite interested in Medieval/Dark Ages history, so I thought I'd link Narvos with a sort of Saxon/English culture.