Tales of the Amber Vipers Chapter 47

Wyrmfang pulsed in his grip, the spear thrumming with potential energy. Elhyn could feel the life force bound within the crystal structure resonating to the rhythm of the Everforest. The spear was a part of the song, as was he, and he could feel the connections between them. The weapon was not wielded by him, nor he by it, they worked in concert, two dance partners both moving to the same music.

Before him lay his target, a fallen log of deadwood. It had taken time to find, for the Wind-dancers did not chop and hew. He had searched for a naturally fallen branch and the Everforest had provided; its bounty generous to those who treated it with respect. Elhyn drew in a breath and felt his heart beating and the softness of the mossy underbrush between his toes, then he struck. Wyrmfang flew in a dazzling arc of green light, bisecting the molecules of the air with its passing. Elhyn felt the harmony of weapon and wielder reach a peak then with barely a jolt the lethal edge carved through the log, splitting a three-foot piece of wood with no more effort than shredding parchment. The log fell into two pieces, split by a perfectly straight partition and Elhyn leaned back to admire his handiwork.

There arose a short peal of merry laughter as M'sgith called, "Hail Elhyn, defeater of logs!"

E'raye joined in, "Yes, we no longer need to fear dead wood!"

The pair were sitting upon a large boulder which was perched over a vast chasm. As far as the eye could see the vertical drop stretched, a rocky canyon filled with perilous slopes and vertical cliff faces. Far below the Glynsmere river churned, perpetually carving away the bedrock of the ground. Thunderous roars echoed from the depths and the scent of foam was intense. Somewhere down there the Drakes swooped and dove, snatching fish from the turbulent river and carrying them up to higher perches to swallow them whole. The Everforest did not come near to the canyon, the towering trees requiring plenty of space for their roots. Thus there was a narrow band of clear rock between the shadowy underbrush and the canyon's edge, enough room to spot a dangerous predator should one approach.

Elhyn stepped up to the broken log and examined the cut. The broken wood was planar smooth, sheared clean through and almost as straight as a beam of light. Yet in the shorn surface glittered tiny flecks of green crystal, shimmering like frost on a winter morn. Elhyn peered closer and saw they were fragments of his blade's edge, broken off in the strike and left behind like a broken-off hook in a fish's mouth. He held Wyrmfang up and saw tiny breaks in the edge, where shards had split off, but even as he watched they disappeared. The crystal was renewing itself, growing back the lost shards and in moments it was as perfect as the moment he had first grasped it.

His attention was drawn away as Panthiro called, "Is it everything the legends say?"

The tall warrior was watching the forest edge, his bow held ready in case of surprises. Elhyn was thankful he was standing guard and replied, "It is wondrous, with such a spear I could take down a Leviatatius."

Panthiro nodded solemnly as he said, "Let us pray to the ancestors it is enough for what's coming."

M'sgith snorted loudly, "Do you really believe in prophecies of doom and darkness?"

Elhyn lowered his eyes as he replied, "I saw my sister's eyes and the truth therein. Darkness comes to Athelling."

E'raye shook her head and declared, "The skein and tinkering with fate are for Craftworlders. The song of the Everforest has always led us true, and it will again."

Elhyn shook his head and said, "You did not see the vision unfold, I did. Something comes, something more dangerous than anything we have faced before. We must prepare."

M'sgith sounded unconcerned as she retorted, "Your humours are unbalanced by worry, come let us fly together. We shall enjoy the day and the wind in our hair."

It was tempting but Panthiro spat, "We are charged with watching these lands, we cannot stray from our vigil."

E'raye flicked a bit of grit at him and laughed, "Ever so dour, what harm is there in a flight through the canyon?"

Elhyn was sorely tempted, to fly free and unencumbered would be marvellous. His heart yearned for the rush of the wind and the sensation of freedom but he could not forget the sight of his sister's distress. The weight of responsibility hung upon him and no longer could he ignore it. He drew in a breath to explain this, yet he never got a chance to speak. Suddenly there was a flash in the sky and terrible roar, accompanied by the ground shaking under his feet. The Everforest reeled and the wild animals roared in alarm as more flashes descended from the heavens, hammering the world. Every Eldar present doubled over in pain as the song of Athelling turned into a shriek, a wild cry of agony that was torn unwilling from the World Spirit. The harmony of the Everforest turned into jagged discord, a clashing din that scraped over their nerves like red hot knives. The natural balance of the world had been upended, a priceless artwork shattered at the hands of an unthinking brute. It struck at the souls of the Eldar, a blow unto the essence of the World Spirit.

The discord was painful but thankfully brief and the Eldar staggered to their feet as E'raye wailed, "So much pain, so much destruction. Who did this?!"

Elhyn has already guessed and spat, "The mon-keigh, they have arrived. Come, the epicentre is not far, we must fly!"

From the depths of the canyon came the four Drakes, rising fast with furious beats of their wings. The Eldar dashed to meet them mid-flight, leaping from the rocks to land on their broad backs, so lightly that the Drakes barely missed a beat. Elhyn tucked Wyrmfang into a sheath across his back and held onto his Drake as Ilfavor cried, "Danger, danger!"

Elhyn sent soothing impulses through their communion as he urged, "Be brave my friend, I need you to fly as you have never flown before!"

The Drakes rose above the lip of the canyon and banked towards the rising sun, heading towards the source of the calamity. In moments they passed under the shadows of the Everforest, flying between the widely spaced trees with arcing banks and sweeping rolls. The passing air streamed through Elyhn's hair but today he found no joy in it, the looming sense of wrongness drawing him ever on. The four Drakes wended their way through the forest, a line of brilliant hues in that eternal gloom. Their passage was swift and sure and all the while Elhyn scoured the reaches ahead, seeking the first sign of disruption.

Suddenly he saw it, a smoking charred mass of broken bracken and he urged Ilfavor to climb into the canopy, alighting upon a thick branch within viewing distance of the mess. The others landed moments later and together they dismounted, leaving their Drakes to perch with their wings folded and heads tucked low. Elhyn led the party on, leaping from branch to branch until he reached the furthest part of the tree. Here the leaves were thin and the branches flimsy so he flattened himself low and inched forward, presenting as small an aspect as he could as he tried to see what was happening.

What he beheld was shocking, a massive square of the Everforest had been razed to the ground, scorched bare by celestial fires. The ground had been charred to ashes and the great trees toppled, the tiny lives of insects and animals snuffed out without care or remorse by uncaring brutality. The sheer ignorance and disrespect of such an act galled him, the callous disregard for life and beauty anathema to his sensibilities. The mindless destruction had changed the song of Athelling, like missing notes in a symphony the absences were jarring the harmony. And in the midst of the destruction were the authors of this tragedy.

Mon-Keigh strutted across the burnt remnants of their handiwork, heads held high with self-righteous arrogance. They were directing ugly clanking things across the ground, completing the desecration of the Everforest with meticulous ardour. The ground was being churned up by threshing blades then coated in hardening rock, while metallic objects were dragged out of the maws of looming craft and piled up ready to be pieced together. The noise of it was horrid, an obnoxious clamour of bangs and grinding wails, unnatural and discordant. The song of humankind.

Panthiro hissed, "Dirty Mon-keigh, they sully the stars with their ignorance and blind hate."

E'raye's face wrinkled in disgust as she whined, "They smell awful."

Elhyn agreed with her, even over the harsh stank of machine oil, burnt wood and industrial fumes the raw stench of the invaders soaked through, sweaty, dirty and crude. It was bizarre that they so resembled the noble Eldar in appearance and yet were so mockingly inferior in every other respect. At least Orks were wholly alien, as misshapen as they were savage, the Mon-Keigh had no such excuse.

M'sgith peered at the tiny figures below and mused, "They act as kings of the world, as if none dare challenge them. But even if they haven't seen us, they surely must know they are being watched."

Panthiro shook his head and said, "Mon-Keigh are half-blind and almost deaf. They cannot hear the song of Athelling. We could practically walk up behind them and slit their throats before they noticed we are here."

E'raye urged, "Then let us sally forth and drive them from this world, send them scurrying back to the stars as a warning to the rest of their filthy kind."

E'lhyn shook his head in denial and said, "They are many and we are but four, it will take all the Wind-dancers to drive them away. We must summon the kinband."

The others nodded but Panthiro leaned in and said, "What's this?"

Elhyn looked almost straight down and saw a kilometre below a knot of Mon-keigh being attacked by a crystal spider. The stupid humans had been snared by its hypnotic power and were about to be eaten. Yet before it could sink its fangs in it was intercepted by other beings, of an order wholly different to Eldar and Mon-Keigh. A trio of strutting giants wearing hardened shells of smooth material, intercepted the spider, driving it back and piercing its heart.

E'raye peered closer and said, "What is that? It looks like a Mon-keigh but it is too big and too broad. I have never seen the like."

M'sgith mused, "Some form of leadership beast? Like Orks, where the biggest commands."

Elhyn peered at the figures below, trying to discern what he was seeing. They oozed threat, everything about them screaming hostile intent and deadly power. They looked built for war and something about their silhouette reminded him of a half-forgotten memory. He cast his mind back to his infancy, when he had been less than forty cycles old and sat at his father's knee to hear the old tales. Slowly Elhyn thought aloud, "When I was a child my father told me tales of his youth. One tale always made me scared, of a battle in the Everforest against a most terrible invader. A force unlike any other, who drove through our lands trying to penetrate the Vale of Midnight Tears. They drove the Wind-dancers back with relentless force and nearly reached their goal. It took a union of many kinbands to stop them."

Panthiro gulped, "You think these are them?"

Elhyn replied, "I hope not, but I cannot shake the shadow in my heart."

E'raye looked thoughtful as she mused, "The Craftworlders speak of the Mon-keigh having a warrior-caste, a band of savages built for nothing save war and destruction. Could these be them?"

Suddenly M'sgith started, "Look, look there. They bear the mark of the serpent!"

Elhyn peered at the remote figures and even from a kilometre above his sharp eyes picked out the icon each of them bore. A black serpent wrapped around a goblet, then it struck him that their shells were a deep orange hue, exactly as was prophesied. "Serpents of orange," he breathed, "This is what we were warned against, they are here."

Panthiro swallowed nervously then asked, "What do we do?"

Elhyn made a decision and said, "We cannot wait for my mother's Kinmoot, we must stop them before they reach their goal. We shall call forth the Wind-dancers at once and confront this danger. We must strike the head off this serpent before it can sink its fangs into the world."