Incantator Congressus Chapter 42

Arvael could scarcely believe his eyes. Before him a creature of shadow and mist was birthed, a broiling mass of shades and darkness. Hatred was its blood, vengeance and wroth its bones but he had no label for this, no category for this phenomenon, and yet he had a name, Imix K'awiil, the Shade-Seer of the Smoke Jaguars. It was a manifestation of his will, as he had cast before, but this time working his arts from beyond the grave. His spirit so potent it had endured the expiration of his flesh.

Jubila backed off, waving the tainted length of the Daemon sword as his followers lifted their weapons. As if that was a signal the cloud of darkness exploded into action, leaping for the warlord in a flurry of black darts with a cawing shriek. The cloud broke up into thousands of tiny birds, razor-tipped beaks and grasping talons reaching for the enemy. Each was separate and yet they moved with the coordination of a single will, steered by one mind. The whirling tornado of feathers and claws engulfed Jubila, covering his form in a haze of darkness. Blood flew high and screams arose as Jubila was beset, his frantically waving Daemonsword useless in this fight.

Arvael's legs felt like jelly but he forced his weight upright, swaying drunkenly as he tried to see what was happening. Besides him Echeb leavered himself up on his staff and hissed, "What madness is this?!"

"Imix..." Arvael breathed, "He survives."

"We must intervene," Echeb spat.

"I don't think we need to," Arvael countered.

The broiling mass of blackness swirled high like a geyser, screaming in outrage as it reduced Jubila to death by a thousand cuts. Yet it was opposed. From the rear the Chosen advanced, bolters and blastmaster firing ceaselessly. Bolts smote darting shapes from the air and sonic wails struck birds by the dozen. It seemed Imix's shade didn't like this, as it turned from Jubila and confronted the new threat. The warlord lay prone on the ground, armour shredded and bleeding from every inch, if not dead then so close as to have one foot in the grave.

The Chosen stood their ground as the cloud tried to reach them, but the barrage troubled it. The Chaos Marines had fought in the Warp many times, their weapons were rune-marked with icons that even a Daemon-kin should beware. Frustrated the cloud condensed, flooding downwards to assume a new form. Thick legs and a muscled body appeared, twice as tall as a Space marine and corded with dappled muscle. A feline head grew, with fangs sharp as the chill before the dawn, and yellow eyes fixed on the enemy as it growled its challenge.

The Chosen concentrated their fire but the creature had mass enough to withstand their barrage and with a leaping pounce it was among them. Arms were torn from bodies, heads struck from shoulders and guts opened by razor claws as the Daemon-kin slaughtered all within reach. One Traitor, an especially fat one with a blastmaster, backed away, firing continually. The shade turned its eyes upon him and then jerked forward snatching him up in its jaws. The Traitor screamed in denial but then the fangs bit hard, tearing his body into chunks. The bestial head rose high and the jaw worked, gulping down the remains and the Noise Marine was gone, eaten by a monster whose hunger eclipsed his.

Far back Arvael was amazed at the display and breathed, "We are saved."

Ashuay however forced himself to his knees as he spat, "Don't speak too soon, there's no telling what that is."

"Didn't you see?!" Arvael cried, "It's Imix!"

"Is it?" Echeb cautioned, "The Shade-seer is dead, but his dream lives on... or is it his nightmare?"

Arvael watched as the creature finished off the chosen and set about the Chariot, ripping it to bits as the homunculus gunners frantically fired at the furry mass attacking them. With claw and fang the Daemon-kin wrecked a great slaughter, but Arvael was distracted by motion much nearer. He looked to the side and saw a small woman kneeling over Jubila's bleeding mass, picking something up. The Gladius Incandor, or what had become of it. As long as she was tall, she nevertheless picked it up with ease, its mass shrinking to match her form. She grabbed the blade in both hands and turned to run, leaving the slaughter behind.

Arvael tried to stand and go after her, but his strength was slow to return and his powers a mere feeble ember. He needed more time to recover and could not stop her fleeing. Even as he watched the woman ran straight at the standing ring, which was filled with unknowable blackness. She spat three accursed words and the ring flared, the infinite darkness spilling out, creating an oily pit. Into that well she dove headfirst, taking the Daemonsword with her, disappearing from Holdfast and she was seen no more.

Arvael's hearts ached with sorrow but he had problems of his own. The pit continued to grow, spilling out into the world to consume all it found. Earth and the stone ring disappeared into that sucking hole as the newborn rift sought to devour everything it found and it would not stop until Holdfast was consumed utterly. The pit rippled outwards, taking all. The Daemon Harbinger fell into that hole, barely able to move a tentacle he was sucked down and left no trace he had ever been there. Jubila's remains too were taken, the ground giving out under him as the pit ate its way into the world.

Arvael flopped back, trying to get away but he couldn't run. It moved too fast and was going to claim the Librarians too. Desperately he reached out with his aching mind, trying to undo it but found only emptiness. It was a void, a funnel into the universe, there was nothing there to affect. Even had he been at full strength he could have done nothing to stop it.

"I can't stop it!" he cried.

"Unite our powers!" Chamat called.

"We are drained," Sythah protested, "We can't light a candle let alone stop that!"

"Then allow me to aid you," came a sibilant hiss.

From the side came a dark figure, shaped like an Astartes but made of night itself. Imix's face was upon it and its eyes glowed with power. With a wave of a hand the creature gave of itself, replenishing the Librarian's warp-energy. Arvael's cells swelled with borrowed power and he leapt to his feet along with the others as Echeb cried, "Close the rift before it takes us all!"

Arvael reached out with his mind but found nothing to grasp as he wailed, "I can't find anything!"

But Imix's shade urged, "Breathe, simply breathe. Feel the world around you, feel its fabric. You are part of the world and it is part of you, the rift is not. It is emptiness, it is a void but you are more, you are greater. The world is you, take control of it and act!"

Understanding dawned and Arvael saw the pit was an absence of being, literally nothing, no space, no matter, no time. Like a hole in a piece of clothing, it was merely a place where the fibres had parted, reality splitting along an invisible seam. He forgot trying to close the rift and instead grabbed the fibres of reality, drawing them together as a seamstress would cloth. The others aided his efforts and the pit slowed its growth, then began to shrink. The blackness retreating as the world was made whole. With psychic needles the Librarians rewove the fabric of the universe, patching up the hole and leaving it marked but closed. The darkness shrank until it was the size of a man, then a fist and then it vanished, leaving a huge crater chewed out of Holdfast.

Standing on the edge of the shaft Arvael sagged, relieved that they had emerged alive, but the others seemed less enthused. Chamat spun about and hissed, "What are you?!"

Imix's shade wavered for a moment then solidified into human form as it replied, "Rude... I just saved your lives."

Echeb countered, "For what reason?"

"I..." the shade mused, "I don't know, it was an instinct but not mine."

Arvael stepped forward and rebuked, "Why are you being so aggressive, this is Imix!"

"I know not what that is," Ashuay hissed, "But it is not the Smoke Jaguar."

"Of course he is!" Arvael cried in confusion.

But the shade declared, "They are right, the Shade-seer is dead. I have his memories but they are foreign to me... like reading another's biography. I am his last conjuration, to cast while dead, it was a feat indeed."

Sythah's fists clenched as he growled, "I know what that is... a Daemon-Prince!"

Echeb however argued, "It is a warp entity, but not one born of Chaos. A being of the warp but with a human mind, born of pure psychic might. Self-Apotheosis, I never imagined I would see such a thing. Imix was more powerful than we ever knew."

"Semantics," Ashuay spat, "It is Daemon-kin!"

"That form it holds is but a memory," Sythah hissed, "There is no humanity in this thing."

But the shade corrected, "All are right, I am of the warp and the Smoke Jaguar in equal measure. I am not Imix K'awill, I am Imix Nightshade."

Arvael stepped forward and asked, "Can we return you to your flesh?"

But Nightshade's head rolled back to the pale sky as he breathed, "Do you hear that?"

"Imix, we need to restore your life. Your body is not yet cold, we can restore you, build a vessel for your spirit. You could be a man again."

"I hear a voice calling to me... a cry for vengeance and retribution."

"Imix!" Arvael cried, "Stay with us, we can save you!"

But Nightshade breathed, "A voice among the stars, so familiar. My gene-father...I know where he is. We looked for him among the worlds of men but he was never there. I know where Corax is, and what he is..."

Suddenly a blazing fireball erupted, striking Nightshade in the chest. The daemon-kin lurched back in alarm as Ashuay strode forward, fire spilling from his hands as he cried, "It reveals its corruption, kill it now!"

"No!" Arvael cried in dismay but too late. Ashuay charged, flaming trails lingering in the air behind him as he struck again. Nightshade did not take it kindly; the creature blew apart into a flurry of dark birds, that flew high out of reach as it cawed in dismay.

"What are you doing?!" Arvael shouted, "Stop it!"

But Sythah advanced, purple smoke spilling from his hands as he snarled, "By its own words it is condemned. Voices call to it: Chaos, the Dark Gods call to their own. This thing is born of the Warp and the warp wants it back. We must stop it before Chaos gains a new ally!"

"Stop fighting!" Arvael yelled, "It's Imix!"

"Imix is dead and his last spell grows out of control!" Echeb barked, "We must stand against the wiles of the archenemy."

Fireballs shot high from Ashuay's hands but the flock evaded them, diving down to peck and harry at the Fire Lord. Blood flowed as he was beset and he cried, "You see, it fights us! It is the enemy!"

"He's only defending himself!" Arvael hollered.

But Chamat barked, "There is only the Emperor or Chaos, the warp or the real... pick a damned side!"

Arvael's heart turned to stone but he saw they were correct. Whatever its loyalties, whatever its origins Nightshade was a thing of the warp, not human in any way. Librarians stood against the warp in all its multitudes of forms, it was their duty to guard against its spread. The Emperor had decreed that entities of the warp must never rule over men, nor dwell among them openly. Imix Nightshade had no place in the Imperium, they could not bring it back to the worlds of men. It was other, alien, and the soldiers of the Imperium knew only one response to anything different.

"Damn you all," Arvael hissed as he formed a Kine-shield and joined the fight. His eyes filled with wings and sharp beaks, slashing and tearing at them all. Fire, smoke, lightning, hammer and kine-blasts fought back, striking anything within each but the shades were undaunted. Second by second they grew more numerous and more vicious, becoming more and more violent. Nightshade was shedding whatever lingering trace of humanity had been imprinted on it, becoming a violent whirlpool of mindless fury and vengeance. With courage and defiance the Librarians tried to break the Daemon-kin but they were too late. The dark flurries swelled into one overwhelming mass and then dove hard, sweeping across their ranks in a tidal wave of frenzy. Arvael felt sharp knives slash his face but the greatest ire was reserved for Sythah. The torrent of dark shapes engulfed him and rendered the meat from his bones, shredding ceramite and reducing muscles to mist. A black mass blotted out all sight and when it passed all that remained were scraps of armour and bleached bones, laid out on the ground without a single speck of meat upon them.

"Sythah..." Arvael breathed in horror.

"You die for that!" Ashuay roared.

But Imix Nightshade was not interested, its mass flocked higher, swirling overhead as a cawing multitude of voices cried, "I hear you my gene-father! I hear your calls for vengeance among the stars. Retribution unending and justice upon the head of traitors!"

"Get back here and fight us!" Chamat shouted.

Imix Nightshade had no care for the threats of the living, it flew higher and higher, passing beyond reach as the faint voice called, "I come father Corax, I come to join your eternal quest! Let betrayers beware, for their every drop of blood shall not be enough to slake our thirst!"

Arvael was left to stare in dismay as Nightshade left the atmosphere of Holdfast, flying away from all mortal concerns. If there was any trace of Imix left in that creature then it was a mere flicker of tolerance for men, or perhaps a cool disinterest in the affairs of the living. Wherever Nightshade was going it was somewhere mankind could not follow, and he could only trust its intent was not to join Chaos.

Left in the dust Arvael's hearts sank as the scope of their failure swept over him. They had failed to prevent a new threat from being unleashed among the stars, and allowed Sythah to be murdered. They had failed to defeat Harbinger or Jubila. They had failed to protect the Gladius Incandor and so allowed it to be defiled. Never before had he been so utterly defeated and the weight of shame made his head bow low as silence finally swept over Holdfast.