Umbram Ignis Chapter 27

In the very heart of the Dark Eldar base a battle raged in the shadow of the Wraithbone pillar. Depraved Xenos poured into the chamber with weapons held high and harsh cries upon their lips. Facing them ceramite clad giants met the charge with roaring weapons and equally fierce bellows, denouncing the alien and called upon the Emperor to witness their deeds. In the heart of the melee Captain Toran hewed at scurrying foes, they were quick enough so that most of his blows missed yet whenever he did manage to make contact his relic blade scythed pale flesh into gory ribbons. All around him were the slender forms of Warriors and Wyches, who darted in and out, striking at him and his brothers before withdrawing. The Space Marines tried to follow but before they could move another Eldar would dash in and another and another.

Lorath's squad was beset by Xenos but refused to be cowed and fought on like lions, they slammed shoulder to shoulder with the surviving Smoke Jaguars and together formed a wall of Ceramite resistance. Meanwhile to the Captain's right Jediah was being confronted by a Wych who held long knives inverted in each hand. She weaved around the Marine's attacks as her blade nicked at the plates of his amour and she laughed contemptuously at his clumsy efforts. She dived under a roundhouse blow from his Fractal blade and tensed before jumping straight up and over Jediah's head, but she had made a fatal mistake. As she reached the apex of her arc the Marine's gauntlet shot out and grabbed her ankle in a vice like grip. The Wych fell the ground in a crumpled heap and her screams changed from delight to horror as Jediah reeled her in like a fish on a line. He gathered her up and slammed his blade into her open mouth, angling upwards to destroy the brain.

Meanwhile Persion was hewing about with a red-hot Friction axe. He was hacking at an Eldar with a long top knot of hair running from his elongated helm, but with every swing the warrior would step out the line an instant before impact. There was an elegant grace to his movements that surpassed the finest human ballet dancer and nothing Persion could do managed to make contact. Frustrated the Space Marine raised his axe high and the Eldar sneered as he stepped right to avoid the blow, but realised too late the Space Marine's intent. As he moved to the right he encountered Persion's boot lashing out and the kick met the Eldar's knee like a jackhammer. The warrior shrieked as bones shattered but that did not last long, before he could hit the ground Persion's axe swept down and cleaved his head into two.

Elsewhere Bylan was confronted by a trio of warriors who came at him with murder in their eyes. He gripped a gladius in one hand and the Company Standard in the other as he fended them off, the weight of the banner slowed him down and he struggled to keep them at bay yet he refused to drop the flag in his determination to uphold the honour of his brotherhood. He was saved by Furion who came barrelling into the fray like a Grox stampede. The Eldar instantly changed the focus of their attacks but the Sergeant was relentless as he smashed into them and the doughty weight of his Mark III armour snapped limbs with the sheer heft of it. Bylan renewed his attacks and between them the two Marines smashed the Eldar apart. Unfortunately there was no time for thanks for the next wave of attackers struck forcing the brothers to fight shoulder to shoulder in a struggle to survive.

While his Marines were fighting for their lives Toran found himself confronted by none other than the Archon himself, Athra J'rect coming at him with sword and whip in hand. He was not alone though, for with him came his bodyguards, a half dozen of his best warriors. The Captain raised his own blade and prepared to fight these elite guards, determined that even if it took every last drop of his blood he would carve a path to the Archon and end this battle but it seemed that was not required. Just before the Captain could reach the guards a blue-clad figure ran past and dove straight at the guards, it was Novak and he raced to intercept the best of the Dark Eldar with his shining blade in hand.

The half dozen guards met him with a wail as they matched his blade stroke for stroke and thrust for thrust in a dazzling whirlwind of flashing steel. It was incredible to see such a display of skill, the best swordsmen that two species could produce engaged in a struggle for supremacy. Novak's blade and combat shield were everywhere as he thrust and defended simultaneously, using the edge of his shield as a weapon as often as the edge of his sword and he cried, "This fight in mine Captain; you take the head off that viper!"

Toran forced himself to turn away from the duel and face the Archon, knowing that if he aided his Champion then Athra might escape, but found that flight was not the Eldar's intention. Even as the Captain came about Athra's sword was hurtling towards his face. Toran barely managed to get his sword up in time to deflect the thrust and was instantly forced to twist away as the blade rolled around his defence and came down in an attempt to cut him open throat from to groin. The next blow came out of nowhere and Toran barely managed to duck in tim,e so that it merely scored across his helm leaving a deep groove. Athra's speed was amazing, his style flawless and only the thickness of the Captain's armour had saved his life. The Captain fell back, hurriedly defending himself as the Archon came at him in a blizzard of attacks and Athra laughed, "Exhilarating is not?! Can't you feel your blood rushing faster, your hearts beating louder at the knowledge that your death is moments away!"

Toran had no wish to engage in banter but desperately needed an opening and in an attempt to distract his foe called, "It is you who shall die filth!"

Athra was relentless in his attacks as he called, "Idiotic Mon-Keigh, the skein will not allow me to fall this day and surely not to the likes of you!"

Toran realised that the Eldar's staggering overconfidence was his weakness and he momentarily lowered his guard. Athra grinned wickedly at the sight and went for the opening, immediately Toran swung about intending to break his foe with one mighty blow, but realised too late that it was he who had been tricked. With his eyes fixed upon Athra's sword he had not seen the Archon's whip coming about until too late and before he could think about what he was doing he raised his arm to block. The agoniser curled around his limb and instantly Toran felt a debilitating frenzy of electric bolt carving into his nerve endings. The agony was intense, making him feel like he was on fire and his muscles went into involuntary spasms. He convulsed in the whip's embrace as it burned his insides, making every moment a unique torture all its own. The suffering to his body was intense but pain was no stranger to an Astartes, the real hurt was to his armour's spirit and it was ten times worse. The plate quivered as its neural interfaces were overloaded, while the fibre bundles jerked and convulsed from conflicting orders.

Toran was completely disabled by the whip's spiteful energies and Athra J'rect threw back his head in ecstasy as he beheld one of the Emperor's own Space Marines in torment. Pain was a banquet to his warped senses and it fed his soul as he paused to drink in every last morsel before killing his prey. It was a moment of hesitation that would cost him dear because far behind the Archon Shade-Seer Imix had seen the Captain's distress and knew that only he had the power to intervene. In a moment of desperation Imix dropped his self-imposed limitations to reveal the true depths of his power. His psychic hood blazed and armour misted with unnatural hoarfrost as he let a tsunami of power fill his being. He could hear Daemons chittering as they clawed at his defences but he shut them out and focused upon shaping his stolen power. He heated it with his fury, he hammered it with his will and he quenched it with the disciplines of the Librarius, to create an avatar of his very self.

Reality blinked as a Daemonkin manifested from Imix's mind, it was a mighty feline predator as large as a Dreadnought, with fangs the size of swords and claws that could rend a Rhino. Imix cast it forthwith a gesture that sent the avatar of his will rampaging into the battle. It moved like lightning, tearing and crushing anything that stood between it and the target: Athra and the helpless Captain. The Eldar scattered as the Daemonkin tore through their ranks, instinctively recognising the deadly threat the psychic projection was to their minds and souls. Still many of them were too slow and they were torn asunder as the beast charged through them. Athra saw the beast coming and tried to twist out of its way, with his dazzling speed he actually managed to succeed in evading the monste,r but in doing so forgot his prisoner. As the manifestation hurtled past Toran gathered his remaining strength into one last effort and with a sequel of punished servo motors he wrenched his arm backwards and snapped the agoniser whip.

Athra was stunned by the sudden change in circumstances and reacted instinctively by thrusting his blade at the Captain's heart but Toran struck first. With an inelegant swep he brought the Sword of Thiel around like a cleaver to hack into the Eldar's arm. Crude and ungraceful the strike was but thin Xeno plate met a relic of the Great Crusade and was parted like damp leaves and in one great sweep Toran cut off the Archon's arm. Athra screamed in outrage more than pain as the Mon-Keigh humiliated and disfigured him, falling back with a furious aspect. Toran lurched drunkenly and fell to his knees, with his strength spent and for a moment the two lords were equally vulnerable. Athra retreated, clinging to the stump of his arm with his remaining hand, as he cried, "You shall pay for this, I shall claim your head yet Mon-Keigh!"

With those words the Archon jumped backwards towards the creamy wraithbone pillar and as he did so he spat a single eldritch word. The air shimmered for a moment and then a perfect circle of darkness blinked into being and swallowed Athra whole. Instantly every Eldar in the hall threw down their weapons and ran to follow, turning their back on the Space Marines who were left hacking at thin air. They sent bolt shells chasing their foes and as each one passed into the blackness they too disappeared. Toran heaved himself back onto his feet as his implanted organs flooded concentrated hormones into his bloodstream and drunkenly called out, "After them!" ]

But Imix cried, "No, whomsoever enters the Labyrinthine dimension shall be lost!"

"We can't let them escape," Toran wheezed as his strength faltered.

Imix barked, "You have no choice, where they have gone none can follow."

"What does that mean?" Toran asked, still bewildered by the unexpected retreat of the enemy.

Furion stepped up and said, "The enemy has been routed and the field is ours. It means this war is over, the Emperor's own have won!"

Toran could scarcely believe what he was hearing, the enemy had simply quit the battle and fled. It felt wrong, surely they should pursue the Xenos and annihilate them utterly, but as always with the Eldar it was no possible. The perfidious aliens were as elusive in defeat as they were in battle, leaving only blood and tears in their wake. Toran knew he should be exulting in victory, but it felt hollow and bitter. Brave souls had laid down their lives, Storm Herald and Smoke Jaguar alike. Toran did not punch the air, neither did he lead rousing hurrahs or make a stirring speech. Instead, he placed his sword point down on the ground and knelt before it. In a position of humble prayer he placed his forehead to the crossguard of his ancient relic and breathed, "My Emperor, your work is done, I can only trust it is enough in your eyes."