The doors to the cargo room swung open and a single man entered. Out in the hallway other figures could be seen lurking in the shadows. But the occasional jagged piece of armor or piece of shining hard metal was all that gave away their existence. Imisha could just about make out the shapes of raised guns and gleaming blades in the darkness. Despite Kalitha's assurances she gripped her witchblade tighter.
The dark eldar archon was not as she had imagined. She had imagined a large brutish man with a hard face. Armorclad in jagged spikes and armed to the teethy with cruel weapons. Instead the dark eldar archon was short, just above Imisha's own small stature and quite a bit shorter than Kalitha. And in place of armor he was dressed in a snug black tightly fitting robe in some glittering material. He wore no distinguishable jewelry or any kind of other adornments. His haircut was short and practical. All in all he looked more like an athlete than a warrior.
When he first laid eyes on Kalitha a river of sparks flew between the Solitaire and the newcomer in the warp. Like two parts of an apparatus connecting and humming back to life. The sudden spike or raw emotions made Imisha blush furiously. Her entire life she had been taught to bottle up what was inside her. She still had problems telling even those closest to her how the felt. She had been taught that emotions was the most private thing and displaying them in public akin to walking around stark naked. To be privy to such a blatant display of raw lust and desire up close felt like committing the ultimate taboo.
She wondered if the same thing had happened when she had met Davar in his tent that time. That made her blush even deeper. Anyone with the slightest warp sight would have been able to sense it. Like the human. And perhaps even the accursed princess.
As the man approach Kalitha his demeanor became a slightly amused, like the face of someone who had been bored for a long time and unexpectedly stumbled onto something interesting. Kalitha stood dead still in the center of her grotesque artwork. The dark eldar archon rounded her in a circle, as if inspecting the scene. When he had reached full circle he finally spoke. His voice was high, a trembling tenor. Almost higher than Kalitha's deep alto.
"Mundane. Boring. Uninspired. Just like you." Kalitha still didn't move. The dark eldar archon positioned himself straight in front of her. He shook his head and tut-tutted in disappointment.
"It seems that all that once made you special is long gone. Certainly what is left before me is nothing but an aging blown out candle. The world has chewed you up and spat you back out. And you think that I would be interested in the leftovers?" He looked around trying to fix her eyes with his his own. But Kalitha just kept looking straight ahead as if gazing at something at great distance. Unable to make eye contact he instead made a dismissive gesture at the bloody carnage around her.
"That you would debase yourself with such a pathetic display." He casually kicked away a ribcage from the star of flesh and bone, breaking the perfect formation. He kicked another piece apart, gauged the still solitaires reaction. Somehow the display looked even more monstrous now.
"It makes me question if there was ever anything special about you. Or if I must forever be ashamed that I allowed you to be the vessel for my seed." Kalitha simply refused to even so much as acknowledge the dark eldar presence.
"Do you have nothing to say in your own defence? Anything at all?" Yet again Kalitha remained dead still. Her old lover sighed theatrically and shrugged his shoulders. "No? Then I guess all that is left is for me to put you out of your misery". The archon snapped his fingers and a jet black rod came flying from the opening, apparently thrown by one of his followers. He caught it with ease and gave it a twirl. Imisha swallowed. She had seen one of those rods before.
"Do you know what this is?" He asked Kalitha, caressing the short black rod as he strode behind her. Not looking at Imisha he pointed a finger towards her.
"You there. Craftworlder. You seem like you know your history. Care to enlighten this little useless washed up bitch as to what awaits her?"
"Kalitha! That is a warp whip! You have to..." But the archon interrupted her with his high pitched calm voice.
"Very good, little seer." The archon asked in a sweet voice while flexing his arms and shoulders. He leaned in just behind Kalitha as if to whisper in her ear. Imisha could just barely make out his words over the pounding of the ship's machinery. Somehow she guessed he meant for her to hear them.
"Do you know what it does? It is like a normal whip in many ways. But instead of rending and flaying the body it lashes at the soul. I wonder if we can make you special again if we just beat you hard enough. What do you say? Together?" At his words Kalithas body shuddered in what looked like an involuntary reaction. Imisha felt so sorry for her, it seemed that even a solitaire could feel fear. The archon however smiled without a trace of pity, strode back a couple of steps and raised his whip. Before Imisha could act he whipped it forwards towards the still standing Solitaire. Through her warp sight Imisha could see the barbed whip rushing forward and striking Kalitha head on. The whip bit deep into her soul, ripping up a large gash. Her light wavered and flickered in pain as it tried to recover from the blow. He struck again. And again. And again. Kalitha's soul lit up like a bonfire of pain. But in the material plane her body stood perfectly still.
Imisha drew her witchblade fully and jumped down from the crate the sat perched on top of. She was not about to let this continue. From the doorway she could see the shadows moving and weapon barrels aligning themselves against her. They didn't scare her in the slightest. If she flicked her fingers she would become the center of a storm such as these cretins had never seen. Her witchblade was pointed straight at the archon.
"Stop! If you hurt her again by Isha I will fry you and skewer you on my sword like a barbecued rat" Imisha had seen refugees catching rats and cooking them over open fires on sticks. It wasn't perhaps the most threatening metaphor but it was the one that came to her mind.
The archon stopped, threw his head back and laughed a high pitched ringing laugh. He dropped the whip and strode up to Imisha. The tip of her witchblade met his neck and he pushed the tip slightly into his flesh. A single drop of blood ran down his neck.
"Sad little craftworlder", he said mockingly. "How little you know". Then he walked back towards Kalitha, picking up the whip again from the bloodsmeared floor. He positioned himself behind her and positioned the handle of the warp whip under her chin, forcing it upwards. Imisha started picking targets. And she knew who would die first.
"What do you say my dear? Am I hurting you?"
At this point Kalitha moved and turned her head over her shoulder towards the archon. Her voice was perfectly clear. The daemon mask wore a face of mock pity.
"Oh! She didn't notice the small man with his small words and small toys. She mistook it for the wailing of children. But as she remember everything about him is so miniscule that she usually fails to notice. The dancer apologizes most profoundly. Was there something the little man wanted besides whining like a babe?"
The archon sucked in breath and his eyes lit up as he seemed to savour the humiliation. For a moment he just stood there, right behind Kalitha. Then he whipped Kalitha around and the two embraced in a blaze of passion. The solitaire wrapped her bloodsoaked naked legs around him and leaned in deeper as he lifted her off the ground. Imisha turned ash white in the face at the things the two started to do to each other. The hand holding her witchblade fell in awe as she gaped at the lovers like a simple minded fool. In the shadowy doorway the dark eldar raiding party was retreating.
"The seer might want to go with the others. Or she can stay and watch. She might learn a thing or two. Her call." Kalitha managed between the moans and gasps. Imisha shielded her eyes with her hand and ran out the doorway. But she could not shield her warp sight from the fiery joining of souls happening just behind her.
In the end the dark brethren allowed Imisha and Kalitha to travel back with them to their base of operations. Apparently they had met their quota of souls and slaves and were about to head back anyway. It was a journey so horrible that Imisha several times wished she was back among the human refugees. The dark eldar hated her with a passion. Not a craftworlder but as a seer. She was quite sure that Kalitha was the only thing stopping them from taking her apart piece by piece. Even with the phycosuppressants drugs they had forced her to take she could not shut out the suffering all around her. The blackened souls of her lost brethren, slowly draining away into the giant vortex that was She Who Thirsts. The desperate misery of the captives stowed away deep within the bowels of the raider's ships. They were heading to fate worse than death. Imisha clearly remembered the heads of the human female and her child rolling on the floor. How many more children had not had been so fortunate as to have someone kill them before they were taken? Several times Imisha had to stop herself from simply gripping her witchblade and going out in a blaze of glory to free them. Perhaps the harlequin had been right. Perhaps she had changed. Because this was quickly becoming unbearable for her. Ultimately she spend the voyage shut in a small room, alone with her thoughts.
Finally after what seemed like many hours the door opened and Kalitha walked in. Imisha gagged on the smell of fresh blood and sex as the solitaire entered the room.
"We have arrived. And we have been allowed to meet with her son." Kalitha simply said. The harlequin hesitated for a while. "But she must warn the seer. This will probably not be easy for she must leave her weapons here." She walked out the door and Imisha followed. How much worse could it get? The sooner she got this over with the sooner she could get out of this living hell.
Outside her tiny quarters the dark eldar archon joined them. He elegantly offered his arm to Kalitha who eagerly accepted it. And so the three of them walked through the dark corridors of the dark eldar base. Archon, solitaire and farseer. Seeing the couple in front of her made her jealous. Twisted as they were they at least had each other. If only Davar had been here aswell Imisha thought bitterly. Then all of the eldar peoples would have been represented. The thought bit deep. By Khaine she needed him right now. But he wasn't at her side. And he probably would never be again. These constant thoughts of regret and longing did her no good. She had to get over him once and for all.
Imisha walked pass screams and laughter. Sometimes is was hard to tell them apart. She tried not to look. In the end she just looked at her feet and tried her best to shut it all out. Once in awhile she closed her eyes and tried to image the grass on the verdant moon under her feet instead. Thus she didn't even notice when they reached their destination. But finally the couple in front of her stopped.
"Behold! Our son!" The archon exclaimed proudly.
Imisha raised her eyes off the floor. There stood in a round chamber with slick metal walls. It was dimly lit as if in a state of perpetual twilight. The floor was covered with metal gratings. They were quite alone. All was quiet except for a slight whimpering sound that she could not locate. For a split second terror overtook her. Was this were her life would end? Had she been betrayed? But then she saw the over two looking upwards and raised her own head.
High above them, hanging from the ceiling, suspended on a hundred wires hung a naked screaming eldar. Each wire ended in several barbed hooks that were embedded into his flesh. The wires constantly twisted and turned, pulling at the open wounds. Imisha could find no words.
Kalitha stood transfixed in front of Imisha. The seer looked incredulously at the Solitaire. Why didn't she do something? Well if she wouldn't Imisha sure as hell would. Finally Imisha snapped.
"You monster!" she howled and lunged for the archon, catching him off guard from behind.
"Your own son! Your flesh and blood! How can you do this?" Imisha spat at the archon. She grabbed the man by the collar and lifted him off the floor. He didn't resist, instead staring back at her with disdain. They may have taken her witchblade and her warp powers but Imisha was never without weapons. Her fingers itched to close around his throat.
"Your ways are not our ways," the archon simply reminded her. "I honor his determination and his choice". From behind Kalitha gently put her hand on Imisha shoulder. If it was a threat and meant to calm her Imisha couldn't determine. Regaining control she threw the dark eldar down and stepped back in disgust. He landed on his feet like a cat and adjusted his clothing.
"My son is trying is to purify himself through pain. It is an ancient ritual. Older than the world in which you were born, craftworlder."
"Do you even know why he is doing this to himself?" Imisha demanded.
The archon nodded solemnly. "He spoke of his daughter and his wife. He says he killed them both. He wanted to end his life and forever damn his soul. I convinced him that this was a better alternative."
Above them the poor soul screamed in pain as the hooked wires grew more and more taunt again. Small automated probes soared in the repair the gashes in the flesh that opened up. Tubes of blood and nourishment rushed in to strengthen him.
"Take him down now this instant!" Imisha demanded.
"No" It was Kalitha who responded.
"That is your son up there!" the farseer continued. "Doesn't that make you feel anything?"
"It does" Kalitha responded. "She is glad her son is safe for now." She took the archon's hand in her own and squeezed it affectionately.
"Whh...what?" Imisha shook her head and threw out her arms in shock.
"The mistress has marked her son as her own. He belongs to her now, just as she does. But he has no master to protect him. Right now the pain is all that keeps them apart. So if pain in the body keeps the spirit intact she finds that a small price to pay. If we take him down she might very well lose him forever."
"How can you be so sure?" Imisha blurted out.
The solitaires daemon mask raised a painted eyebrow. Oh yeah, right.
"You can't possibly tell me you approve of this?!"
"And would the seer prefer the alternative?! That he just let go. Just like the seer wanted to do when the dancer found her? This is the way of his people."
"His people?"
The daemon mask smiled in what looked like a sincere if somewhat tired smile.
"The seer still doesn't understand, does she?"
Imisha frowned. Kalitha used that voice again. That young voice. That actually sounded like there was someone behind that mask.
"The seer think that the dancer endures this life. She doesn't. She likes it. She craves it. The blood. The sin. The pain. So how can she fault her son for wanting the same?"
Imisha just gaped in response. Not knowing what to say. Kalitha smiled at her apparent confusion. Or at least her mask did.
"She told the seer that there was a time before she became a dancer. These were her people. This was her home."
"She knows it is an extreme. She knows it is not in harmony. But it is who she is. That is why she became a dancer in the first place. She needs both master and mistress to find balance."
"Do not pity her. She would be damned either way. At least as a dancer she can do some good. And do not pity her son. She is proud of him. Instead make sure that there is still hope for him. Find the princess."
"Just exactly how am I to do that?" Imisha threw her hands in the air. "This was a dead end! I just wasted weeks on this wild goose chase!"
The archon snapped his fingers and an acolyte rushed forwards carrying a box.
"Kalitha tells me you are looking for one of my son's companions. I assure you he never spoke of anyone except his wife and daughter. However, these were the things my son had on him when we found him. Does any of them tell you anything?"
Imisha rummaged through the box. A dirty dress. A broken doll. Ranger gear.
"Nothing" Imisha felt weak. She wanted to sink to her knees. The screaming eldar above her surely didn't help the mood. Then she saw it.
"Wait!" In the corner of the box lay a small worn book. The title caught her eye. Da lusty orcish maiden and her virile stablemasta. Surely it couldn't be? But then again, wouldn't it be just like her.
"Has the seer found something?" Kalitha wondered. Imisha picked up the book.
"I...I think this book might have been the princesses. She said it was her favorite. I think..." She sighed and shook her head in embarrassment.. "I think she named one of our battleships after it." The archon looked over at the book's cover and just barely suppressed a laugh. Imisha glared at him.
She opened the book. It was apparently signed by the author. Imisha squinted at the crude writing and could just about make out. To da little funny pointy one. Muffmasher Megamember. The little funny pointy one. It had to be her.
"Are you sure your son mention anyone else besides his family that he was in contact with?" Imisha tried passing the book to Kalitha for further inspection.
"None" the archon answered gravely. But at the same time he looked at Kalitha.
"This is where the seer and the dancer must part ways. She already has two masters. She can ill afford a third." Kalitha said at last. She lined up her masked face with Imisha's own.
"Listen carefully. Her son says that he killed the princess. She very much doubts that. This is likely her mistresses doing. That is why the dancer can't go with the seer. She can no longer be trusted."
"But if the princess is gone..." Imisha started in panic, visions of fire filling her mind.
"She isn't. Her master has told me that when she dies the children will go with her. We are still here. So she is still out there somewhere. The seer must carry back to her the torch that she seems to have dropped." Kalitha thrust the back into Imisha's hands. In her mind the golden thread of hope grew stronger. Kalitha turned back to her screeching son, hanging high above them.
"The dancer will stay here and try to convince her son that his daughter still lives. Perhaps then he will come back to his senses. Perhaps he can yet be stolen away from her mistress."
"Wait!? His daughter?! Are you telling me..."
"Her son considers the princess to be his daughter yes." Beside Kalitha the dark eldar archon drew a sharp breath at this statement.
"But that doesn't make sense! She is an exodite princess! Surely.." Kalitha placed a finger on Imisha's lips, silencing her.
"The princess is many things. It is not the dancer's place to explain. The seer should ask her master herself. And when she does tell her the princess that if she is to be rule over what is left of the children of the stars she must accept us for all that we are. Not just the elegant, pure and polished parts. But also the hungry, wicked and spicy parts." The solitaire smiled at her lover and then bent down to kiss Imisha hand with a impish grin on her mask.
"For it takes two halves to make a whole." With that the Solitaire smacked playfully Imisha on her bottom and turned around towards her family. The farseer watched as the solitaire again took her lover's hand and the two of the watched their only child together as he continued to scream and flail high above them. Imisha turned to walk away.
"Kalitha?"
"Yes?"
"What is your son's name?"
"Tiohja. It means little singer in the old tongue."
Imisha nodded and left rather than to intrude further on the private and frankly rather disturbing moment. To her great surprise the dark brethren let her leave unscathed. Once on her way she looked at the book in her hand. It was her only lead forward. The absurdity of all it all was breathtaking. But despite everything Imisha soon once again found herself in the right place at the right time.
Hope, it seemed, even in this dark and twisted galaxy, simply refused to flicker out and die. Tooth for nail, it would not go down without a fight.