Speculum Enigmate Chapter 49

The taskgroup broke warp in a flare of Unlight, translating from the nightmarish hell of the Empyrean into the blessed solidity of realspace. Sleek frigates rose from those haunted depths, their prows trailing gossamer filaments of impossibility. Behind them came slab-sided Strike cruisers of the Unnumbered Sons, accompanied by wallowing troop-ships, bulbous mass-conveyors, fuel barges and Forge Tenders. At the head of the fleet rode a mighty Battlebarge, covered in iconography of purifying flames and sinful souls writhing in torment. She was the Flame of Hades, flagship of the Fire Lords Chapter and all others followed as she turned her prow towards the tiny mote of the Pascum system's star.

Several hundred million kilometres away a vessel of a very different order was trudging through the void. She was no mighty warship, not even a bulky troopship or sleek frigate. This was a tiny minnow of the void, a system boat, pushing further into deep space than she had ever been intended to go. Her weary drives spluttered as they struggled to maintain thrust, pushing the vessel towards the orb of a cold dead planetoid. She had spent a week slogging towards this rock and she sank into the gravity well with one last gasp of thrust before her engines finally cut out.

Inside the vessel Manaar strode from the bridge with an eager step. Behind him the cooling corpse of the Mon-Keigh pilot lay, blood still gushing from the wound in his throat. Manaar had pushed the ape to keep the ship running but now they had arrived the pilot had no further use. Killing him hadn't even been an issue, bringing no joy or anger to the Aspect Warrior, it had been a task to be completed as swiftly as possible, nothing more.

He strode down the narrow passages of the system boat, sliding past blank-eyed servitors without them even noticing he was there. The cyborg slaves of the Imperium had not the intelligence to react to his presence, nor raise a hand against him so he ignored them, knowing their fates had been sealed long before he had stolen this vessel. Manaar hurriedly made his way to the small reactor room, where a decrepit plasma furnace struggled to keep the craft powered. Manaar stepped up to a control console covered in wax seals and yellowing parchment scripts and began to adjust the dials. Mon-Keigh technology was laughably simple to operate and it was a matter of a few minutes to disengage the safety protocols and set up a cascade overload. Power would build inexorably until the reactor tore itself apart, leaving only a cloud of atoms behind.

Manaar's tracks had been covered, now he needed to depart. He hastily made his way down to the bottom deck of the tiny craft, where the cargo bay lay. He moved into an airtight control booth and looked over the empty space. It was bare and unlovely, nothing more than a metal cube but it would serve for his purposes. A few deft button pushes began evacuating air from the bay, lacking even a basic atmospheric integrity shield the bay had to be completely depressurised to be opened. Manaar waited patiently as the vacuum stole the air, then when the cycle was completed he opened the exterior door to space.

From the star spackled black came a beautiful craft, an Eagle bomber, coasting into the bay. It seemed bizarre to see so elegant a craft coming aboard the crude boat, its sweeping wings barely fitting into the narrow confines of the bay. Manaar's heart soared to behold this example of his people's art and the promise of home. His artistic self longed for the graceful domes and sweeping vista of Furta-Rith, while his warrior side yearned to return to his shrine and resume the ways of the Path. After so long spent among Mon-Keigh brutes the peace of his craftworld seemed a paradise.

The craft settled down gracefully, then Manaar closed the exterior door and repressurised the bay. Atmosphere leaked slowly in, freezing on contact with the void-chilled Wraithbone of the bomber. A crust of ice formed over the Eldar craft but it soon melted as temperatures climbed and the air thickened. After several minutes the wheezing pumps stopped and Manaar set them to begin the cycle again in fifteen minutes. Then he stepped out of the booth and slid down a metal ladder to the floor.

When his boots touched the ground he heard a soft murmur and turned about to see Koshano awaiting him. The Farseer was standing at the side of the Eagle, hands laced before him in the Stance of a lord welcoming a conquering hero home with great approval. He seemed cool and stern, yet his greeting was one of welcome and his chin was lowered in humility. In the subtly of the Eldar tongue the warmth of his hail was plain. Manaar was not comforted, there was too much bad blood between father and son to ever be dispelled. He made the Salute of a soldier reporting to a superior, expecting brief and functional communication rather than florid gestures and long-winded discourse. A subtle snub, rebuffing their familial connection and proclaiming Manaar wished only to speak of recent events.

Koshano's hands moved in the Gesture of forlorn acceptance but he spoke aloud for the first time, "Your mission is complete?"

Manaar retorted gruffly, "You already knew that, else you would not be waiting for me."

"Yes," Koshano sighed, "Still, it is nice to hear the words."

Manaar tutted in exasperation but said, "The Mon-Keigh target is eliminated. Yones is dead."

Koshano lowered his head slightly and uttered, "Then the Skein is righted. You have achieved great things but I sense it cost you dearly. Your heart aches of loss."

Manaar sniffed, "It was nothing."

"No," Koshano whispered, "You formed attachments to your comrades, leaving them hurt you. A part of you wished to linger with them."

Something rattled behind the Warp Spider's mental walls, his feeble side protesting it was true, but aloud he said, "My heart is not for you to know."

Koshano's eyes filled with sadness as he elaborated, "Then it would not ease your burden to know your comrades survived. They defeated the spawn of the Great Devourer and imposed their Corpse-God's will upon that world. One of the least probable outcomes in the Skein but it was always a possibility."

A vice twisted Manaar's heart but he lied, "I care nothing for any Mon-Keigh. They are a lesser race, born to serve our ends. Their species is useful as a shield against the Dark Gods, nothing more."

Koshano tutted, "You lie poorly but let it be known you shall see them again and not as comrades. They have learned of your deeds and they seek vengeance. The Inquisitor will chase you across the stars, hounding your footsteps. Terrible losses shall you both experience and you shall be betrayed by one you trust absolutely."

"You and your riddles," Manaar scoffed, "Yet I was not the only one stung by loss. The Inquisitor must understand that you arranged all of this, she will have your head if she can but claim it. Your arrangement with her is at an end."

"A sacrifice that needed to be made," Koshano confessed, "A shame, it took me a long time to cultivate her trust. Feeding her titbits of information, assisting her to eliminate trivial threats to her race. I had to ensure she lowered her guard enough to allow you access."

Manaar probed, "Then this was all a scheme in the Skein. You weren't helping her out of charity?"

"Charity for a Mon-Keigh?!" Koshano laughed, "Hardly, I would sacrifice a billion Mon-Keigh for one Eldar life. Still our arrangement had its uses, some of those threats I steered her towards would have irritated the Eldar someday. Now her outrage will make her a potent enemy, Furta-Rith must tread carefully."

"So was it all worth it?" Manaar asked.

Koshano didn't answer, merely looking up at the Eagle as he said, "We should be making ready to depart."

Manaar's eyes narrowed under his helm as he pressed, "No, first you tell me what this was all about."

Koshano shook his head and deflected, "We need to leave before this vessel explodes."

Manaar gritted his teeth in annoyance and hissed, "I am not going anywhere until you explain why Yones had to die."

"You wouldn't understand," Koshano demurred.

"I am no blind Mon-Keigh," Manaar retorted, "Explain it to me, truthfully."

Koshano lowered his head in sadness then drew in a deep breath and said, "I told you of the Rhana Dandra and the games of Gods and Demi-Gods."

"You said the Corpse-God has revealed the first of His weapons who think they are sons," Manaar agreed.

Koshano nodded as he elaborated, "The Statesman. A rather banal choice, the Hunter of the Forest or the Eternal Guardian would have been my preference, but the Ultramarian tool was chosen instead and the fates aligned around him. Galactic wheels pivot upon this one weapon; the balance of Order and Chaos is measured by the beating of his hearts. Schemes to manipulate or eliminate him swirl in the Skein, the later growing more prominent with every hour. The Primordial Annihilator needs him removed from the gameboard, before the others like him return."

"Chaos seeks to eliminate the Corpse-God's most potent weapon," Manaar concluded, "How did Yones figure into this?"

Koshano explained, "The Cupbearer of Tzeentch offers a poisoned Chalice, but another stands opposed. The Least Favoured Son shall race to rescue his beloved father; little knowing the Statesman holds him lowest among his offspring. This confluence of probability was laid out long ago but an obstacle arose, a misplaced fulcrum upsetting the gradations of predestination, changing fate to an unwelcome future."

Manaar parsed this down into terms he could understand, "Yones stood in the way of another achieving his destiny. He was interfering in the Skein."

Koshano sighed, "Simply put but accurate. Not intentionally but Yones would have upset the delicate dance of events that we need to play out. His continued existence was intolerable, for Furta-Rith to survive, for the Eldar to survive, he had to die. The plot of the Primordial Annihilator must be thwarted."

Manaar accepted this and said, "You could have just told me this from the start."

Koshano sighed, "If I told you this you could not have done what needed to be done. You could not have formed the attachments you needed to reach your goal. This is why it had to be you, only you are divided between two paths, no other Aspect Warrior could have walked this Path."

Manaar frowned under his helm as a terrible thought occurred, "Wait… you foresaw this, you knew this was coming long ago. Is… is that why you allowed Mother to fall? Is this the reason you left our family, so I would be torn in my heart and could play my part in your scheme?"

Koshano didn't answer that, merely turning towards the Eagle saying, "This bay will depressurise in two minutes, the ship will explode ten minutes after that. If you wish to live you must come with me."

Manaar's anger grew and his phase-blades shimmered with wroth but he was impotent to act. Koshano was still his father and despite Manaar's violent aspect he could not stab his own father in the back. Still his soul filled with resentment, knowing he would never get an answer to the question and that the doubt would gnaw at him for the remainder of his days. This bitter feud was far from over but for now he had no choice but to follow.

Reluctantly Manaar climbed into the Eagle Bomber and sealed the cockpit closed. He began his preflight checks with practised motions, the bulk of his Aspect Armour no impediment. As the craft responded to his touch he clenched his hands and swore that when he returned to Furta-Rith he would seal himself in the Aspect Shrine and dedicate himself totally to his Path. Yet it was a hollow promise, he knew Koshano would entice him out again, pushing him around like a game piece. If the Farseer was right then he would be seeing Vevara, Eirk, Lumix and Mortula again someday and blood would be shed. His feeble half regretted it but his violent nature looked forward to that conflict. His pain could only be expressed through violence and he would remain on the Path of the Warrior for many years to come.

Then the bay began to depressurise and Manaar looked to the stars as he began the long journey home.