A/N: Sorry for the short delay! Oh, and a kick-ass guy named Philip Moyer made some badass fanart for the fic! Go check it out!
Chapter 24, ENGAGE! :D
Book 2: Corruption's End
Chapter 24: Mind Splitter
"The mind of a psyker is labyrinthine, laden with traps, deceptions, and dead ends. It is a dark and horrid place, where only death and the warp await." – Commissar Ingrid Hauptmann
Ira's arrival was devoid of subtlety. The shocked gasps of the Archive Keepers reached above the din of the automated servitors and cherubim, pulling the Lady Inquisitor's attention away from her readings.
Her acolyte was soaked in gore, each footfall slow and ponderous, each step shaking blood from his augmentic limbs, spattering droplets on the stone floor of Totha's Archives. Across his back hung his prize: one of Josephus' Silverheart Guard. Amat had sighted them sulking around the enemy camp, waiting for word to advance. They were his prized soldiers, assault troopers that directed their master's unruly rabbles. Viciously trained and disciplined to a fault, they were his most effective troops. Where he obtained the means to equip and train them, she could not say. What mattered now was that they were not Ranshan.
With a grunt, Ira heaved the captive before him, where he skidded and rolled across the floor. As one, her kasrkin stood. Her glyphs were visible on each muscled soldier, each one bearing the stock of a raised hellgun.
Ira had bound the heretic in metal wire, which cut and dug into his wrists. Only a tunic and grey-blue fatigues kept him decent.
"M-my Lady," the senior Archive Keeper prattled, "You cannot profane the Sacred Archives with-" She rounded on him, psychic will inflating her presence well beyond mortal limits. When she spoke her voice steamed, vapor in the snap-frozen air.
"I will have silence." She said. The man fell to his knees, shivering in his thin and folded robe. "You will not presume to order me about, not when I am endeavoring to protect everything you hold dear." The man shook and quailed, staring at her with such fear, it gave her pause. I am over-doing it. You can't snap like this. You are not a rabid dog, and exhaustion is no excuse. She released her hold on the warp, and the man sucked in a breath, his hands kissing the frozen stone at her feet. "Do not question me again. Begone." The man's underlings recovered him, carrying him away from her presence.
"Neat trick." A new voice said. She turned to face the speaker. The Silverheart. His face was utterly devoid of emotion or expression, the picture of blankness. Foul tattoos ran up the sides of his arms, but his face remained untouched. His insolence earned him a sharp kick in his ribs. She felt the bones break under her armored toe. "Ow. What the fuck. Ow. Fucking bitch." The man said, trying to clutch at his shattered chest. His face remained placid and uncaring. Wasting no time, she ripped open his mind, uncovering a forest of cold stone. She backed out, surprised at her findings.
"My Lady?" Chera asked, her violet eyes full of concern.
"He has had a rubric cast upon him." She replied, parsing the heretic once more. Such spells were not given lightly, which meant the caster's secrets were precious.
"Ha. Ha. Ha. Ow." The heretic said. Time to test a theory.
"Break his finger, Ira." Ira obeyed, crushing the man's index finger in the palm of an augmentic hand. The Silverheart screamed a long, dull note.
"Ahhhhhhhh." He cried, again and again. The Lady Inquisitor's brow furrowed. He can still feel pain, but he's unable to emote. His personality remains intact, but his mind has been wiped. Her fingers swallowed his face once more, and she returned to his mind.
The seal was a powerful one. She had only encountered a few spells like these in her investigations, and they required a significant time investment to crack. Time she did not posses.
Only the memories since his arrival at Ranshu remained accessible, and even those were hazy to her. She'd have to make do. The barbarous way.
"What are the Silverhearts after on Ranshu?" She asked, stooping down to face the writhing man.
"Can't tell you. Won't. Ha. Ha. Ow." Smiling, she smashed his nose in with a flick of her finger. He gave a toneless cry, and the pictures in his mind sharpened, pushed between the stone trees that infested his mindscape. "You bitch. Ow."
They were here to direct the local forces.
"Who commands you?" She demanded, her mind probing at the fragments of memory, reaching, grasping.
"Go fuck your corpse-god." He said. Loyal to the last, I'll give him that.
"Your autopistol, Darron." With a spin, he unholstered the weapon and handed it to her grip first. She took it, nodding in thanks. "I'll ask again," she continued, "who is your commander?"
"Go fuck your corpse-god." He repeated. The autopistol barked, echoing down the archive's countless rows of knowledge. The servitors continued their work, unperturbed by the blaring report. The bullet pierced his navy blue kneepad, shattering his kneecap into fragments and burying itself in the stone floor. "Ahhhhhhhhhhh. Ahhhhhhhhhhh." His head thrashed against the floor, his eyes rolling into the back of his head from the shock.
"Who is your commander?" She demanded. The thought raced across his mind before the grey haze of the rubric sealed it away. But it did not escape her. The name itself was meaningless, but it opened a few more pathways of interrogation. "Darron, keep him awake." He nodded, unfurling his medical equipment. "Ira, what do you think?" This was a valuable learning experience. Too often, she relied on her telepathy, and it could become a crutch if she was not careful.
"He won't speak, that much is plain." Ira said. "As you said, the rubric itself might seal his tongue and mind away from us." The Lady Inquisitor watched Darron work, scratching her chin. "Although it is curious why they sealed away his capability to emote, but not his sense of pain or personality." He chuckled to himself. "Expect unpredictability, I suppose."
"Quite." She replied with a smile. "Good analysis. I don't think we'll be getting too much from him, but it was a worthwhile attempt." There are still a few lines of inquiry to pursue, but the heretic is nearing his limit. She knelt to face his writhing form. "What does the name Jorak mean to you?" A glimmer she'd picked up, someone directly under his commander.
"Fuck you." She crushed his remaining arm, repeating the question. A sniper, given one specific task. It was completed successfully. Beyond that, it was impossible to tell, for his mind fell blank once more. His body was truly broken at this point, a weeping mess of compound fractures and twisted limbs. Her kasrkin, accustomed to the atrocities of chaos, felt nothing but hatred for the man below them. The remaining Archive Keepers threw up. Too long squirreled away down here, the Lady Inquisitor mused. Soft, spoiled men.
She spent the next five minutes grasping at other straws, but his mind had yielded all its secrets, and his body could no longer sustain the damage. He died, and his face remained unchanged as his broken form succumbed to pain and blood loss. The Lady Inquisitor snapped her fingers, and warp-frost ate at his corpse, encrusting it in ice.
"I suggest you dispose of him now, while it's easy." She said, nodding at the Archive Keepers. They obeyed, performing the sign of the Aquila before picking up the frozen body. Ira was right. The rubric was odd. Why wipe his memories, but leave it vulnerable to pain? That she could uncover anything at all was suspicious. She supposed he needed a baseline of names, squad mate's proficiencies, training to remain an effective soldier. But are they constructed memories? She growled in frustration. It felt like Josephus was feeding her information. It made her sick. Jala Prime had been a trap, and she could not afford to be outplayed again. She sighed.
"Ira, your report?" He stepped forward, nodding.
"At once. As requested, I brought you the Silverheart. However, the circumstances were unusual." He said. Her eyebrow rose. "The Valkyrie piloted by Serviceman Chung suffered critical damage, and fell to ground before the gates of Shao-la." The Lady Inquisitor considered this.
"What is his current state?"
"He is injured. It is possible his leg is broken, but since you prioritized the recovery of a Silverheart, I expedited my return here." He said. That's certainly true...he didn't even take time to cleanse himself, she noted.
"The Valkyrie?"
"Salvageable. With some supplies from the Scythe of Morning, the Techpriests will get it running in a few days." The unspoken: If we survive that long.
"And how goes the siege?" Ira smiled, tucking his sword away into his mechadendrites.
"As well is it can. The Woadians have repulsed every assault, each time inflicting massive casualties upon the heretics. Within the walls, I've ferreted out a few saboteurs. I handed them over the the Seneschal, who was all too happy to deal with them."
"Good." Seneschal Lao Shuryan was a capable man, and obeyed her without question. No doubt he knew the proper course of action to take regarding captives.
"However, many of the defenders have suffered casualties as well, and there appears to be a sickness spreading among the injured." The Lady Inquisitor frowned.
"Is it born of the arch-foe?"
"It's impossible to tell. I say we err on the side of caution," he said. She nodded. As always, she carried a few tinctures and remedies for those inflicted with plagues from beyond the warp, but such medicines were far from plentiful.
"Save who we can and quarantine the rest. Burn the dead. Anything else to report?"
"Lieutanant Varo was insubordinate. The Ruin of Heresy was destroyed while accomplishing the primary objective. He resented my involvement." The Lady Inquisitor retrieved her wine from her duster, working the top off without effort.
"You employed the tanks?"
"It was necessary. They were required to haul the Valkyrie back, and they also managed to defeat a considerable number of enemy soldiers." He explained. She met his gaze, and found no dishonesty in his metallic mind. He had acted to the best of his ability in order to perform his task. She thanked the Emperor for sending her Ira. A hatred for incompetence burned in her heart, and there was none to be found in her Acolyte. Dealing with inferior subordinates would only compound the painful pitched battle that thrummed within her skull.
"I shall have words with him then, in due time. I have more pressing matters to attend to." She said, taking a swig of wine.
"There is also the matter of Trooper Yang..." Despite herself, the Lady Inquisitor chuckled. Her former teammate never failed to stir up trouble.
"Oh?"
"She leapt into the fray, just as you said she would." He said, wearing a small grin. "She is a tenacious fighter. The natives were quite impressed when we sallied forth." That brought a genuine smile to her face.
"I thank you for your service, Ira." She said. He nodded, about to return to his command before a thought stopped him.
"Amat would also like to report that he killed the Silverheart sharpshooter." His words sent piqued her interest. The sniper, a heretic named Jorak, who completed an unknown mission. But what the mission consisted of was still a mystery, although several theories presented themselves.
"Tell him I said thank you."
"I shall do so." He left, bloodied red cloak swishing behind his fleet footsteps. The Lady Inquisitor closed the tome she'd been poring over with a dusty thud. The Archives had been an insight to Josephus' actions. His movements across the Segmentum Obscurus appeared random and chaotic, scattered by the eddies of the warp, but such an observation would be patently false. Once she factored his historical engagements and seditions, a clear pattern emerged: he was searching for something. However, the veritable tsunami of text spoke nothing of Ranshu itself, nor the Archives it contained. It was time explore outside the realm of ink and parchment.
Buckling her powersword to her armor, she gestured to Darron. The Captain strolled over to her, scooping up his hellgun. "Captain?"
"Yes, my Lady?"
"Send a few more of your men with Ira. I need six of you to accompany to me out of the Archives." He nodded, quick, flickering hand movements sending his subordinates to their tasks.
"Are we leaving?" Chera asked, fingers drumming against her weapon.
"Not yet. But I think I have a lead." The Cadian woman grinned.
"Captain, Lieutenant, Malik, Rodric, Astrid, come. We must speak with the King. It's possible he can help us." Unbidden, the image of Ruby returned, bringing a smile to the Lady Inquisitor. It was unnatural how much the two resembled each other.
After recovering Chung, Yang sprinted back to her post, finding nothing but panting Woadians and a clear battleground. The shock troopers had fled, and their failure sent the Yǒng-lo scattering. However, Gamma platoon and the other members of First Company were exhausted. Their ammunition was spent, and many sat with hollow stares, coated with soot and reeking of ozone. So much killing in such a short amount of time had worn them down into shambling parodies of soldiers.
"Hey guys," Yang said, throwing them a wave.
"Nice moves out there," Caolin said, trying to grin around his lho-stick. "I'd have more critiques for you, but I was too busy killing half the bastards myself." Yang laughed, slapping the back of his flak armor. Ros rolled her eyes.
"Did you see Lord Ira though?" She said, jerking her thumb at the piles of severed limbs that decorated the grounds outside Shao-la. "He could hold these walls by himself." She shivered.
"Ain't natural," Caolin agreed. "Damn effective though." He made the sign of the Aquila.
"Damn shame about the armor too." Asgeg said from her firing slit. "Though it was pretty awesome watching the Yǒng-lo eat it." Yang nodded, chuckling. Chung better be damned thankful. That flier, its pilot and the captive shock trooper cost them a Leman Russ. A steep price to pay. She sighed, rubbing at her eyes with bloodied knuckles.
Keeping her aura activated all the time was exhausting. Death was everywhere on this planet, and the constant danger eroded its protective edge, a constant gnawing sensation that kept her on constant alert. A lack of proper sleep worsened the problem.
The deluge of rain continued, and there was little cover from its onslaught. Ros shook, rubbing her arms in a desperate attempt to warm them. Yang gave her a spare tunic, which she'd kept tucked away in her guardsman's pack.
"You sure?" Ros asked. Yang shrugged, smiling.
"I run hot," she said. "I'll be fine." Her friend was too tired to argue, and slipped the dry tunic on. "Any sign of that sniper?"
Caolin shook his head. "Ain't seen anything outta him. We're keeping our heads down anyway."
Jorvis left the gatehouse, clenching his coat tight in the vain hope that it'd keep him dry. His artificial eye raked over Gamma platoon, and an unlit cigar hung from his scarred lips.
"Just got word on the vox." He boomed over the driving rain. "The Captain's got orders for us, and he'll be along shortly." Straightening, his hands went to his hips. "Stay in cover, but for the Emperor's sake, try to look presentable." They gave him a mumbled 'yes Sergeant', and for once, he didn't seem to care. Yang scrubbed her hands together, using the rain to wash away the latest splashes of blood.
Captain Lyrasson arrived on the elevator a few minutes later, command squad in tow. His warpaint was fresh and untouched. He was about half of Jorvis' age, if not younger. The Company Commissar accompanied him, wearing the patented 'Commissar Scowl'.
"Stay down, sir." Jorvis said. "There's rumors of an enemy sniper." Nodding, the Captain hunched over, crawling on his hands and knees to address First Company.
"The Colonel's in a strategy meeting for the next few hours, so the Major's been given command of the walls. Until Colonel von Israfel gets back, we're rotating positions. We're headed over there." He said, pointing at the eastern walls. "Third Company will hold the gatehouse. You've done an exceptional job of holding it so far, and I'm damn proud of you." This earned a few smiles, tired though they were. "But you guys need some rest. The flanking walls haven't been hit as hard, so we'll get some sleep over there, huh?"
"And if the Colonel comes back?" Jorvis asked, his voice a low rumble. "With all due respect sir, he won't like his orders being fucked with." Captain Lyrasson shook his head.
"Major Hraksson gave the call. If the Colonel keeps us here, we'll get ground up into grox-food before too long." He said, putting on a fake chuckle. He slapped Caolin's pauldron. "Right, son?"
"Right, sir." Caolin managed, swallowing.
"By the Emperor, of course I'm right! I'm your commanding officer!" Lyrasson said with a wry grin. The Company Commissar's frown deepened, his fingers working at the grip of his bolt pistol. Yang watched him with care.
"Captain," he began, eyes shifting over to Gamma platoon, "You'd-" Lyrasson waved him off, laying a hand on his shoulder.
"Commissar Eberil, please." The political officer rankled under his cape, irked by the Captain's flippancy. "Like I said, it's the Major's orders." He turned to the Sarge. "You and your boys ready to move?" He asked Jorvis.
"We are, sir," Jorvis said, readjusting his officer's beret. "Just give the word." Yang scooped up her gear, slinging her pack on her shoulders. I'm sure Third Company is more than capable of holding the gatehouse…. but I'd feel better if I stayed here. She thought, frowning.
The walls of Shao-la bustled with activity as First Company prepared to leave. Yang watched her comrades hustle about, enjoying the rain as it ran down her skin and soaked her hair. The transition from Huntress to Guardsmen was an odd one, now that she thought about it. Hunters were Remnant's heroes, teams of highly-trained and specialized killers. They went where they must, beholden to nobody and nothing but their own initiative. But a guardsman's life was not his own. Far from it, really. A few words from one man, and a thousand soldiers leaped into action. Lyrasson could have said, 'march out and kill all the heretics', and they would have gone. Well, I would have… dissuaded him, Yang thought, cracking her knuckles. But she was a part of it too, the billions-strong war-machine that was the Imperial Guard. She saluted now, did what she was told. It sucked (and she'd come close to telling Jorvis to fuck off more than a few times), but it was easier just to go along with it all. The price she paid for the ability to traverse the stars. A small smile and a bitter laugh escaped her. Weiss is the one who's got it made. I should ask her about being an Inquisitor!
"What's so funny, Yang?" Ros asked, shouldering her own pack.
"I'm thinking I should be an Inquisitor," she replied with a wink, earning her a chuckle.
"Alright First Company," Lyrasson boomed over the rain, "let's get a move on. Report to spire six in the eastern section of the walls in ten minutes! Let's go, go go!"
"AYE!" They bellowed in response. They obeyed, a thousand boots pattering against the stone walls.
"An Inquisitor? Really?" Ros asked, hustling into a small jog.
"I'd get my own ship," Yang replied with a grin. "And with a shiny little 'I', I could get whatever I wanted." And the freedom to explore the stars. Caolin gave a low whistle, keeping his hand on the strap of his long-las as they marched. "Tell you what, first thing I'd do is confiscate some real food. If I have to eat another protein gel, I think I'm gonna hurl."
"It does sounds pretty nice." Caolin said. "Although you'd probably just get stuck doing this shit for the rest of your life." He said, nodding at the heretic camp. "Least I'd get to wear more than flak armor."
"It stopped a few arrows." Asgeg cut in with a wide grin.
"If that's the best it can do, I'm surprised you're even defending it," he said. "And even then, it doesn't protect you all around." They fell silent, remembering their fallen comrades who'd been pierced by the primitive weapons.
Quiet possessed them. Fatigue sat on their shoulders, heavier than all their equipment combined, but Yang could tell they were glad to get a rest. She didn't know what business the Colonel had placing them in the crucible of this whole fiasco, but she was glad the Major had the good sense to give them a rest. A few more battles, and she wasn't sure she could perform at 100%... if she wasn't already lagging.
It took them ten minutes of shouldering through other marching Woadians and careful treading on slick stone walls, but they reached their destination. Shao-la seemed more peaceful from the side, without the constant drone of drilling and preparations that sat underneath the gatehouse. The Yǒng-lo camps were thinner on this side too, and didn't stretch so far out into the sea of mud. The bodies were still here though, strewn around the battlefield and piled at the bottom of the walls.
The Ranshan soldiers were more numerous here, clad in black armor and tattered scale cloaks. Their yellow eyes appraised Yang as she approached, and they whispered among themselves, leaning on long, angular bows as they spoke.
She gave them a wave, and they nodded before returning to their posts. Weird.
"Get settled, Gamma!" Jorvis cried, pointing to the ramparts. There was no gatehouse now, no shelter to shield a single member of First Company from the downpour. "Set watches, and try to get some rest! Captain's orders."
"Get some rest," Svyr grumbled, "as if we can in this misery."
"Well then, thanks for volunteering for the first watch." Yang said, giving him a grin. She sat against the rain-slicked ramparts, nestling herself between a few firing slits. It was a tight fit, but she made do.
"You don't mind if I take a nap, do you?" She asked. Ros shook her head before letting out a long yawn.
"Not at all. I think I'll join you. Caolin, why don't you and Svyr take the first watch?" Ros said, pointing at the heretic camps. "Give us a shout if you see anything."
"You're just giving me the bitch-work because I said your sense of humor sucks." Caolin said, leaning against the battlements.
"Okay then, try this: jump off the walls." She said, slapping the back of his helmet.
"That's-"
"Yeah, it was a joke. Now get on it." Ros said, rubbing the bridge of her nose.
"For what it's worth, I'm still with you Caolin." Yang said.
"You wanna stay on watch with him?" Ros threatened. But she was too late. Yang let her aura loose, and exhaustion hit her with the brute force of a boarbatusk. The light of her soul ebbed away, and she was asleep in seconds.
Patch was dying, buried under the weight of snow. Yang shivered, naked feet sinking into the snow drifts that swallowed her whole. The blizzard was angry, furious even. It sent cold sinking into her heart, a hate that was as full of fear as it was
She opened her mouth to scream, and shards of ice shredded her cheeks and tore into her throat. Something was wrong.
where am i going
Yang didn't know, couldn't know. Ice crawled through her veins, and her skin cracked and split and fell into the wind.
She fell to her knees, cowering under the voice that boomed across her ruined homeland.
WHERE IS SHE? WHERE? WHERE?
The question consumed her like the cold, a thrumming, slicing ache. The white faded for a moment, revealing a figure in black. A woman that was Red like Roses.
ruby
Yang bellowed, shattered stump arms dragging her along.
ruby please im right here
Ruby didn't answer her. She was playing with Little-Yang, happy and ignorant of the frigid hate that whorled around them.
ruby
Yang cried, tears freezing to her cheeks. The two turned to face her, smiling as they froze in place. It was wrong, all wrong. It hurt. It hurt so fucking bad. Slowly, slowly, ever so slowly, she tried to stand, and found a horror staring back at her.
Pain. A rail-spike that thundered against her skull, desperate to smash her head open. Yang's eyes opened, weighed down by pain and grogginess. Her head was pounding, and something was poking her foot. She rubbed her eyes. Another nightmare, she thought, shivering.
"Quit it Ros, I'm up." She mumbled, rubbing at her eyes. Dusk had come during her nap, and Shao-la was bathed in the purple glow of twilight. Exhaustion no longer ate at the edges of her perception, but it had been replaced by a blinding, nauseating headache. "Fuck that hurts." She spat. As her hands fell away from her face, she saw that it was not Ros poking her foot, but Sergeant Jovis.
"Sergeant?" She asked, puzzled.
"Trooper Yang. Now that you've joined us, would you kindly explain what the fuck is going on with your tats?" Yang whipped around to examine her glyphs. They were bathing her squad in a golden glow, each pair of eyes regarding her with mixed awe and fear. And they burned. It was like someone pressed a brand into her shoulder, searing her skin away under the press of red iron. Not good. Not good at all.
"Yang?" Ros asked, face full of pleading.
"Is this something the Commissar should know about?" Jorvis asked, resting his chainsword on his shoulder.
"Don't look at me, it's one of Wei-" Yang started before catching herself. She took a deep breath. "It's one of the Lady Inquisitor's spells or something. It's a…" She stopped, pain rippling through her mind, trying to tear her temples apart. Her hands kneaded her long blonde hair, yanking and pulling as she screamed. A great cry went up along the walls of Shao-la, letting her know she was not alone in her agony. It was a cry of hatred. A cry of revulsion and despair.
Yang stood, panting as she leaned against the ramparts. As the sun faded behind the heretic camp, only one thing penetrated her pain-fogged mind.
"Where are the bodies?!" She demanded, binding her fist in Jorvis' coat. "WHERE ARE THE BODIES?" Then, for the first time, fear filled his singular eye, etching itself in the lines of his weathered face.
"DAEMON," someone cried. "DAAEEEEMMOOOONNN!"
A/N: inb4 "how do guardsmen know what daemons are? Well, now that they're part of the Inquisition, it'd be safe to assume they had a crash course in nasty beasties that they might come across.
Also, you guys are gonna shit your pants next chapter. Can't wait to see your reactions! :D
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Magisking: Theories, theories abound.
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