Siege of Iyanden

Part V – Funeral Pyre

Written by Shateiel Spiritblade

All hell had broken loose on Iyanden. With multiple breaches within the Craftworld, and defences compromised, every crossroad and major junction and bridge had turned into a battleground. The Cratworld's heavy defences still lashed out, but many have been silenced. White lights flashed out into the darkness of space, lashing the tyranid ships with scouring white beams of death. Already, the zone where the defences were being manned were already becoming a battleground, with Guardians and Aspect warrior squads fighting with termagants, hormagaunts and genestealers. Unlike their monstrous brethren, these three classes of bio-monsters were well-adepted to fighting in close-confined areas. I was surprised that the Hive Mind had not released its bio-titans into the fray, for it obviously knew that bringing in the larger bio-transports, would cause them to be destroyed before it even reached the Craftworld. Not that the Eldar were resorting to playing fair, anyway. The Eldar Titans had marched out to the massive air-locks and had opened up upon the tyranid bio-ships, but seemed to scarcely make a dent on the alien fleet. Ultra-heavy plasma cannons unleashed balls of light capable of tearing up all but the heaviest armoured and shielded battle-cruiser. Before then, a majority of the mycetic spores that had been launched towards Iyanden had been destroyed by its automated lascannon defences; now, with more than half of those defences destroyed, greater hordes of tyranids were now capable of entering the Craftworld. With one of the bio-ship kraken transports that had latched onto one of the dome-cities, genestealers were pouring out like a tidal wave, drowning the defenders in a swarm of death.

Gewesen was holed up with the remnants of the Eldar defenders and what was left of his Ultramarines in the barracks within the centre of the fifth dome-city. Valkaze's hold on the fourth was close to collapse. The Phoenix Lords were fighting tenaciously with their warriors on the third, but it was as if they were trying to stop a sinking ship with a leaking bucket. I, myself, cannot say I was in a better position. The entire defence lines that I had set before the onset of the battle for the Craftworld had all but shattered. There was fierce fighting everywhere, and death lurked in every shadow and in every darkened corner and burning alleyway. Lightning forked down from the Warlocks of the craftworld, followed by Hellfire psionic attacks by the Librarians. The Eldar had pushed themselves to the extent that they demolished their beautiful spired buildings to halt the advance of the invaders for a few moments so that reinforcements could arrive. I gazed upon a scene of utter carnage. Nigh two dozen Striking Scorpions laid amongst a horde of 'stealers more than five times their number – but they were obviously overrun. I wondered, briefly, how Bennu was faring, and if she was still alive. I had suffered several wounds from deadly genestealer blows, and my left arm was near useless. It could be treated and put back to full use, yes, but only if it doesn't get hit again. The pain that lanced through my battered form sent me back on my knees. One of my Bloodguard said, "Brother captain, you're badly wounded. Rest a moment, and let me treat thy wounds."

"We cannot tarry here. The tyranids are close by. If we don't link up to the nearest defensive position – we are all dead."

Even from where I stood, the sounds of fighting was deafening from the distance. Explosions blossomed in a fiery conflagration. Above, swooping hawks fought with hordes of gargoyles, and the massive Eldar starships were locked in a violent firefight with tyranid bio-ships. But, it was clear that the Eldar starships were having the advantage of speed, while the living ships of the tyranid fleet had clearly superior firepower. If I were gambling on the odds, I would be wise not to put my bet on either side; but in this case, I smiled with dark amusement, I have to lay my bet on the Eldar fleet. Putting it on the tyranid fleet is a simple death sentence. A shout, mingled with fear and loathing, drew my attention back to the threat before me, "Captain!"

A swarm of genestealers, like a living wall of death, charged towards me. My Bloodguards and I hefted our weapons, and with a shout, unleashed a withering hail against the onrushing horde, felling many, but not stopping the swarm. I held my hellfire bolter in my still-usable right arm, sending endless hails of armour-piercing, explosive shells. Empty casings fell to the bloody ground of the Craftworld, that now laid thick with bodies of friend and foe, like a waterfall.

Then, laser beams flashed into the advancing horde, exploding amidst their ranks, and charring those caught in the path of its path. A war-cry, like that of a phoenix rising gloriously from the ashes of its former incarnation, split through the air. I whirled, and a smile pulled on my lips, wiping out the searing sensation of pain that flowed from my wounded left arm. There, mounted on a jetbike, like a descending angel, was Bennu and her squadron. Her shriek of rage resounded once more as she swooped down, sending another blast into the advancing horde. My brother marines cheered the reinforcements as they blasted the horde into oblivion. Bennu landed her jetbike close to me, and in a rare flash of emotion, she clutched me close to her strong, slender form, and cursed, "You stupid, mon-kei bastard! What were you trying to do, holding the dome-city when it is on the verge of utter collapse? By Isha, look at you! You look as though you have fought with the Avatar himself!"

I grinned despite the excruciating pain, "An honour I would rather reserve for later, if I survive." . Shaking her head, she helped my heavy, battered form onto the jetbike and mounted it herself, "I have to get you to an apothecary."

"What about my brothers?"

"They are in good hands," Bennu nodded as she sped away into the stars, streamlining her body so as to prevent herself from being too open a target. I followed her example, spraying the streets below with boltgun fire as we shot past. The scent of blood, by the halo of Sanguinius, was arousing, and it was nearly driving me berserk. My hold around the Phoenix Maiden tightened to the point she actually shouted, "By the gods, Sheik, loosen your hold! You'll squeeze the life out of me!". I forced it back into the darkest recesses of my mind. I do not wish to become like the Khorne berserkers – devoid of reason and compassion. By the Emperor, the day that happened is the day I enter the Death Company. I had seen several good brother marines under me being relegated to that brotherhood of the damned, all tied with oaths of duty to our Emperor and our people, and with the singular knowledge that it is better to die in battle than to become a rabid animal. The scent of Bennu's wounds made it far more difficult, and the sweat and strength that radiated from her lithe, strong form aroused another kind of lust that I had felt once before when Bennu had tended to my wounds. I saw Bennu's eyes then, and saw that they were filled with fear. She knew that her wounds were arousing me, her rich, warm blood, calling out to me like a siren song. Calling out to me to seize her and tear open her wounds and take the rich, warm liquid beneath her skin. The past of the Horus Heresy began to creep in, obscuring the visions of the burning Iyanden Craftworld to that of a Chaos-oozing battle-barge where my progenitor had fought against the Great Betrayer.

A song crept into my mind, as the vision retreated to the darkest corners of my mind. Bennu's voice. The song…..so familiar….and I lowered my head against her armoured back. With it, intermingled my mother's sweet voice.

Rest now, little one. Fear not, I am with you.

I heard my father, the man who breathed life into me, sensed the warm comfort as he clutched me tightly, calming the waves of terror that emerged from the throes of a nightmare. Sensed Sanguinius, smiling in some corner, giving me strength to battle my blood-lust.

Be strong, child. Fear not the Darkness.

Bennu relaxed as the Blood Angel captain's hold lessened in strength, and felt his head rest against her armoured back. She sighed in relief, knowing that the Blood Angel was in the near-throes of a Blood Rage. And with her controlling the jet-bike, it would have ended with the death of them both had he surrendered to his thirst. For a brief moment, she pitied the Blood Angel, not because of his weakness, but because she understood what it was like to fight yourself each day, praying that you would not become a rabid animal that you fought so hard, and yet knowing that one day, you may fall. She turned to look at her sleeping companion. The lines of responsibility, weariness and pain were gone, replaced by a look of childish peacefulness that made Bennu, despite what was happening around her, wonder what he looked like as a child. He must have been adorable. A hormagaunt charged out from a shadowed alleyway, landing right in front of her jetbike's twin-linked shuriken cannons. Bennu did not hesitate, and opened fire, sending bloody ichor splashing over a blood-drenched road. The defense of the Craftworld had come at a high price. Countless Eldar were slain or wounded, and the remnants of the elite Imperial force that had aided her people in the defense of their home had died here, hundreds of light years away from their homeworlds.

Her comm-line activated, as Alriel, one of her squad, reported in, "Exarch, we have managed to evacuate the Blood Angels and all the Imperial Guards we could find and carry. Karhedran has ordered all defenders to pull out of this territory."

"No! We cannot abandon this place to those creatures!"

"To hold this place is a lesson in futility, Exarch! Please, we must fall back!"

As though punctuating Alriel's words, a group of retreating Imperial Guards and Dark Angel Space marines led by Valkaze Stormguard were falling back in waves, making the tyranids pay in blood for each yard of ground. Their battle-tanks were sending heavy blasts down the roads at the advancing horde, tearing bloody swathes through their ranks, but not stopping them. Valkaze, seeing her and his childhood friend, shouted at her, ordering her to fall back. His assault squads had set demolition charges to every bridge to hamper the advance of the tyranids. The area could still be held, but he desperately needed reinforcements.

"What of the passages that link the dome-cities?"

"Secured. Karhedran has left the one closest to the Temple to allow us an escape route."

That, Bennu knew, could only mean the gate near the Temple of Isha. A shout made Bennu turn as the Phoenix Lord, Jain Zar, her voice a coalescent echo of a dozen voices thunderous in her war song, led three dozen Howling Banshees into a bloody close combat melee with hormaguants and genestealers. Above, Maugan Ra led his Dark Reapers, their rocket launchers giving the Howling Banshees covering fire. Bennu espied a group of jump-pack equipped forms leaping into the air, fleeing the heart of the dome city, moments before a shattering explosion heralded the destruction of the bridges.

"Flee, little one," spoke a powerful voice in her mind, and Bennu turned towards the direction of the mind-voice. The green robes of a Warlock fluttered above a building, accompanied by the blood-red armoured form carrying a force sword. A Blood Angel Librarian. The Warlock pointed towards the Temple of Isha, an unmistakable order to leave. Bennu gritted her teeth, part of her wanting to stay and fight on, part of her realising that if she tarried here, her companion would pay the price. As she was about to apply the throttle, a soft moan emerged behind her, as her wounded companion stirred. She looked at his wounds, and realised that they had stopped bleeding. He looked up at her, and saw that, to her horror, the eyes blazed with barely constrained power. Psionic power. His expression frightened her, and she realised that he had no idea who she was or where he was.

Psionic power erupted forth, arcing into a streak of lightning as Shateiel Spiritblade of the Blood Angels' dormant power erupted forward, slamming into the heart of the tyranid host, leaving bloody craters where the lightning bolts smashed. He screamed, "I'll kill you, Horus, you bastard! The human spheres do not deserve the rule you intend to impose on them! Your bastard Dark Gods shall not hold the galaxy while I draw breath!"

Eldrad Ulthran of Ulthwe touched the wraithbone core of the Craftworld, feeling its pain and agony at the battles that raged throughout its form. He concentrated his energies upon the injured Blood Angel Captain, attempting to unlock his psionic potential that was kept locked in his mind. The memories touched the ancient farseer, and he was impressed at the noble deeds worthy of even the Phoenix Lords themselves. The planet of Kharn-Tauragh, the siege of Morion IV, and hundreds of battlefields across the Imperium, the Blood Angel rose through the ranks of his Chapter by emulating the ideals of his Primarch, and his mortal father, hoping to someday be worthy of them. But, the farseer could feel the loneliness that ate away at his soul, and even though he was surrounded by his brothers, the yearning for companionship never left him.

Duty, he knew, was a harsh mistress; she demanded everything, offering little in return. He had lived long enough to know that. The Emperor of Mankind locked himself in an eternal vigil for his people, seeing to it that the Imperium remains united, whatever the cost, to hold itself against those who would destroy mankind. The race, true, was young, and had a long, long way to go before it reached the same maturity as the Eldar.

The mindlocks mystified Eldrad, for the subtle psionic emnations bespoke of the mental work of another space marine – and from its aura, he could tell it was a Dark Angel space Marine. Why would those reclusive, secretive marines have anything to do with this lad? He traced the emnations carefully. No, something about this particular Dark Angel was different from the rest of his brothers – something shameful scarred that aura terribly, granting the man little respite from whatever that damned him to an eternal hell of dishonour. He had heard of these Dark Angels before and knew of their deeds. Fallen Dark Angel sprang into Eldrad's mind. But why? He remembered meeting Cypher, remembered the painful aura that surrounded the massive marine like a funeral shroud. Even though his Order had cast him out, Cypher and his brothers went forth on a quest, hoping that one day, the Emperor would forgive them for their act of betrayal. Wait! Eldrad put the Blood Angel captain's features, and put Cypher's alongside it. By the Gods….they're identical! Yes, the Blood Angel was the younger version of the Fallen Dark Angel, but the features were there! Possibilities went through Eldrad's mind as one part of it attempted to unlock the psionic mindlocks, while the other probed the timestream. Eldrad had to be very careful. One mistake was all it will take to see him slain and his soul dragged to the maw of the Great Enemy, Slaanesh. He probed the timestream on the past hundred hundred years, searching……..and found what he was looking for. There, a woman clutched a tiny form wrapped in cloth, looking up at her companion. There, standing beside her, was Cypher himself. She, like her companion, was clad in armour – but her armour was that of the Sisters of Battle, and unlike those warrior-priestesses of the Emperor, this one wore her hair long and cascading, the golden locks tumbling over her armour. The inherent, stubborn nature, no doubt, of the Blood Angel captain came from his ancestor.

But the memories were happy ones, and the farseer knew that each day, to gain strength, Cypher would look back upon this day with joy as he fights to regain his lost honour. The memories of his beloved, of the child he shall never see, but knows whom shall grow safely and sire children of his own. And, like him, they shall take the path of the warrior, unable to deny the Blood Call. Whatever shame Cypher had borne with him, his descendants seemed to share it, unable to explain what or why forced them to take up arms to defend the Imperium.

He worked carefully, unlocking each layer, until finally…………..RELEASE! The psionic powers long hidden in the Blood Angel captain erupted forth like a volcano, nearly overwhelming Eldrad with its passion and intensity. He saw the Final Hour of the Horus Heresy, the dread sight of the noble, angel-winged Sanguinius falling before the Great Betrayer himself. He heard the psychic scream that embedded itself into the Blood Angel's gene seed, damning them all to an unholy thirst for blood and recalling the death of their Father. He saw Sanguinius's smile, and Eldrad, who had lived for nigh ten millenia, felt as though he was facing his father yet again, and it warmed the ancient farseer's spirit. Yes, one day, the Eldar will regain their lost power. The question if it can be a reality nagged at him.

But, for now, bathed in radiant power of the newly risen psionic, Eldrad aided the Blood Angel captain in controlling his newfound powers. It would be a waste of a good human man if he was consumed by his own soulfire.

Bennu stared in shocked horror as psionic power exploded from the Blood Angel captain. She had touched it, briefly, when she had made him her own, delighting in the pure, raw soulfire that he radiated. The scars of war had not diminished any humanity in his heart, despite the fact he was grim, stern and cold and given to brooding rages. Psionic fires erupted, turning even the largest tyranid bio-monster into dust. The massive zoanthrope, renowned for its unbelievable psychic powers, was turned to ashes as a blast of fire was shot in its direction. It had raised a barrier for its protection, but the psionic-caused fire cut through it like a knife through hot butter.

She covered her eyes, half-awed, half-terrified by this display of power. Bennu knew that most newly-elevated psionics could barely control their power – but Sheik was controlling it, of all things! Even the most promising Farseer needed much training to control their powers. Lightning and fire blasted outwards, and both Eldar and Imperial defenders took cover. Sheik had lost control of himself, and the unholy Black Rage mingled with his newfound psionic powers made him a person to be trifled with. Not that she had ANY ideas.

Her communications device crackled to life as a voice said, "My lady, there are fluctuations in the warp."

"What is coming through?"

"Unknown, my lady. But, whatever it is, there are many of them. Eldrad senses it, but with the bio-ships emerging from the warp, he cannot tell if they are tyranid, Imperial or our own."

"Damn it, I hope it is not the first. If more arrive, our home will be destroyed."

"Let's hope it is not."

Then, above the heavily embattled and besieged Craftworld, a great rent in the fabric of space heralded the new arrivals. Huge warships with concave prows that looked as though they were equipped with battering rams sailed into the vast emptiness of space. They sped towards the ships, and under the light of the thousands of stars that filled the void of space, Bennu could recognise them. Their distinctive concave prows that emulated the shapes of battering rams, and their cathedral-like shapes and double-headed eagle emblems, visible even from where she stood, heralded the coming of the Imperium's fleet. There, amongst them, stood the sleek, beautiful warships and destroyers, all bearing the mark of Yriel, the former, banished admiral of the Iyanden fleet. As one, the allied armada, numbering over three hundred ships, unleashed a withering barrage of torpedoes and cannon fire upon the living ships of the tyranid bio-fleet.

Bennu, along with hundreds of others upon the embattled Craftworld screamed in joy, the shout of a phoenix taking flight as it flew upon wings of fire against the darkness that sought to enfold the realm in

Shadow, as they took up their weapons and fought with renewed vigour against the monstrous invaders.

And victory was won this night.

Iyanden was safe.

Epilogue

I turned to gaze upon the beautiful Craftworld I had defended with my life, along with that of my comrades-in-arms. Even though it was badly damaged, I was still astounded by its beauty. Admiral Yriel, who had aided the Imperial fleet in repelling the tyranid bio-fleet, was welcomed back to the Path, and dozens of ships stood guard as ships bearing the Eldar who had been evacuated before the start of the battle, re-entered its docks.

I looked down at Bennu's gift. The blade was beautiful, engraved with runes of justice and life, and the two-handed hilt was made of rare wraithbone – and that it was capable of channeling my newfound psionic powers better. She had promised that the sword would serve me well before she gave me the final farewell present. My lips still tingled with the kiss she had given, amidst the wolf-whistles and cheeky grins – and Mephiston, the smirking bastard, I knew, was going to blabber his mouth off to Dante and everyone else in the Chapter. By the Emperor, I'll make him swallow his teeth before we even got back to Baal!

As the Wrath of God turned towards the jump-point, I caught sight of a beautiful, slender figure upon the main lanch platform of the Craftworld, clutching a golden-bladed power sword – an imitation of my broken Concilliator Power Sword. Her mane of silver hair identified her, and my eyes widened as she raised the sword high, catching upon it the gleam of starlight that made her hair burn with silver fire. I touched her briefly, feeling her joy, the richness of her fiery spirit embracing me for one last time.

I chuckled despite myself, hearing Mephiston's sarcastic voice after the ceremony, but his eyes were warm, "Sheik, my hot-headed brother, you have better taste in women than I do."

And I heard a mental voice, along with rich laughter, That you do, my love, that you do.

As the ship slipped into the warp, I threw my head back and laughed.