Ahriman's declaration sent panic among the various factions of the Rings. Each of the Dark Mechanicum lords with estates upon the First Ring believed the message was intended for him or her, the possibility of having the Arch-Sorcerer of Tzeentch working for them blinding them with greed. Speculation was rife as to the reason behind his arrival. By now all had heard about the siege of Sortiarus, about the armies of the Plague God being mobilized throughout the Eye to crush the rising Thousand Sons. Warbands coming to obtain weapons had brought word of the war with them – some had even tried to convince the Dark Mechanicum to take part, but the dark magi of the Rings had little interest in the blessings of the God of Life and Death.
Given Ahriman's fanatical devotion to his Legion, it was supremely unlikely that he had abandoned it and chosen to walk his own path across the Eye of Terror, forsaking his oaths to his Primarch. Surely, he must have come seeking allies to go to the aid of his beleaguered homeworld. Within their fortresses they plotted and schemed, pondering how much they could ask from the Thousand Sons in return for their assistance, each lord dreaming of the absolute rule that could be his if he played his cards right.
Khayon sat upon his command throne on the bridge of the Tlaloc, watching as the ship drew nearer to the Azurean Well. Ahriman stood to his right, Ashur-Kai and Sanakht a step behind him. Though the Arch-Sorcerer was in command of the warband, the ship was still Khayon's. Ahriman knew better than to try to take the Tlaloc away from his brother. Savior of the Legion or not, Ahriman suspected Khayon would try to kill him without hesitation should he ever try to take his sister from him. Such loyalty was to be admired.
Through the occulus, the Arch-Sorcerer could see both the First and Second Rings, as well as the singularity beyond them. The warship was surrounded by hundreds of other craft gathered in armadas that held each other at bay. One shot would be all it would take for this to degenerate into a space battle the likes of which the Rings had rarely seen, Ahriman's plan shattered beyond any hope of recovery. Which was why the Sorcerers of the Tlaloc were currently sending their spirit bodies outside the ship and across the fleet, subtly appeasing over-eager minds and preventing accidents they foresaw before they could happen. It was a psychic undertaking worthy of praise, only made possible by the fact that none of the Dark Mechanicum lords had ordered hostile action. But it wasn't perfect, and tension rose as the ship drew closer and closer to the Second Ring.
'We are getting more vox-hails,' said Khayon calmly. 'And they are getting more desperate in their demands that we set course toward specific domains.'
So far, Ahriman hadn't replied to any of the vox-hails, which the dark magi had interpreted as a clever ploy to avoid being targeted by their rivals until the Tlaloc was close enough to their Second Ring's domain to be under their protection. To preserve that impression, Khayon had kept the ship on a direct course straight for the singularity.
'We will pass the Second Ring by in nineteen minutes,' continued Khayon. 'At that point, what our hosts will do is impossible to predict.'
Ahriman merely nodded in response. Khayon sighed.
'I hope you know what you are doing, Ahriman. This plan … I know we have run longer odds before, but it still feels dangerous to me.'
Do not worry, Ahriman sent to his brother. All is going as planned.
Nineteen minutes later, exactly as Khayon had announced, the Tlaloc passed across the Second Ring without turning toward any of the fortresses upon it. Almost immediately, a torrent of vox-hails erupted from the fleets arrayed around the ship, with open threats now being spoken in cold, mechanical voices. Alarms rung across the bridge as the ship's systems detected weapons being locked upon it. The crew – a melange of augmented humans and Sortiarus-born mutants – held to their station, their fear washing over the four Exalted Sorcerers.
Now, pulsed Ahriman to Ashur-Kai and Sanakht, and through them to the hundred Sorcerers dispersed across the Tlaloc.
As one, the sons of Magnus withdrew from their efforts to influence the minds of the Dark Mechanicum ship-masters, and channelled their power through the smaller circle of three that stood upon the bridge. Under Ahriman's leadership, Ashur-Kai and Sanakht weaved the sorcerous energies, ripping the very fabric of reality apart in a manner as precisely calculated as it was brutal. The chorus of alarms on the bridge intensified, and the occulus' display flickered. For a maddening second, all that could be seen through the reinforced window was pure, undiluted blackness – then the ship's prow was facing the surface of the Second Ring, still going at full speed.
On the other side of the Ring, the Dark Mechanicum fleets reacted to the sudden burst of Warp energy and the disappearance of the Tlaloc in the only way they could. With the pacifying influence of the Thousand Sons removed, the vessels opened fire, flotillas tearing each other apart in a deluge of lance-fire and solid ammunition, while boarding parties were sent in pods or teleported through Warp-touched technology. Repressed agression bloomed in full strength, and soon the void battle raged with all the fury of any other war ever fought in the Eye of Terror.
The target of the Thousand Sons was now visible through the occulus, and auspex scans had been compiled by the Anamnesis to form a three-dimensional image that was projected on the bridge's main hololith. It was a vast fortress, made of concentric circular walls, all centered around the main lair of the Dark Mechanicum lord, a grand baroque cathedral filled with the blasphemous imagery of the Eightfold Omnissiah.
Around the Tlaloc, orbital defenses were in disarray as psychic attacks wreaked havoc with both living and mechanical components, frying the brains of gunners and filling their auspexes with ghost readings. The ship finally ceased its approach, hanging barely twenty kilometers above the Ring's surface. Had the object beneath the Tlaloc been a planet, no sorcery of the Thousand Sons could have prevented its fall, but the Ring's gravitic pull was much weaker than that of a conventional planetoid – at least once you left its surface, where it was as strong as Terra's own.
'Open fire,' commanded Khayon, and the weapons of the Tlaloc roared in answer. The bridge deck shuddered as lance-fire burst forth from the warship, slamming directly into the grand forge-cathedral, piercing through its shields thanks to the sorcerous enhancements that had been brought to the Tlaloc in the decks of the Gift of Thot.
Ahriman watched as part of the cathedral collapsed, tearing away from its melting part and crashing onto the surroundings buildings. He felt the terror of those caught beneath the falling structure, their horror at their inevitable doom and their urge to flee. But even those who had been in reach of safety were unable to move, locked into their pre-established routines by the cybernetic implants through which they were enslaved to their overlord. Such slavery revulsed Ahriman. For a sentient being to be reduced to nothing more than a puppet – there were few greater crimes.
Brothers, the Arch-Sorcerer pulsed to every Legionary aboard the ship. Prepare for planetfall.