Book Two: Corruption's End
Chapter 64: Like No Other Human
"Questions are dangerous things. They may lead to heresy, or worse - an answer." - Commissar Ingrid Hauptmann
A white face, a laughing face, one that swallowed up everything. It was just beyond the glass cage, the one that imprisoned Yang. She hated its bright-toothed smile, its mocking sneer, its conceit, its arrogance, the alien tint to its livid green eyes.
She pressed against the glass like she always did. Once more, nothing came of her struggle. Only now the pure-white face giggled at her, a sound that filled the whole of the cage and drove itself into her ears and she couldn't hear anything else and-
fuck you she screamed
The laughing did not cease.
let me out she hollered
The laughing got louder.
Blood spilled out from her eyes, great rivers of red that filled her cage and threatened to drown her. She wanted Little-Yang to come and free her, allow her to escape, but as the blood filled her lungs the only thing she could see was a white face.
A laughing face.
Yang awoke to a world of black. Terror seized her before her face ached in pain, and she remembered what had happened. Groaning, she sat up, tried to take in her surroundings. Once more she found herself in a hospital of some sort, that, while not as creepy as Prexius' lair, still made her hackles stand on end.
Instead of dark machines and clattering servitors, this place was sterile and clean, devoid of medical tech or staff. She couldn't deny however, that whatever fuckery the eldar treated her with, it beat the hell out of IVs and wheelchairs.
Beds lined the walls, most of them full of sleeping eldar, each clad in a white silk robe. One that Yang wore as well. As befitting the eldar, it was disgustingly soft and comfortable. She tried to make more of the room, but her swollen eyes made it difficult - everything had been subsumed in a dark haze, and her head pounded.
A painful reminder of her arrogance.
Her fingers reached up to caress her face, checking for the worst of the damage. She brushed up against her face and winced.
Careful now.
Preliminary examination showed that her nose was badly broken. There wasn't more than a painful knot where her nostrils used to be.
I'm lucky that skull fragments didn't pierce my brain.
A long gash in her lip reached her cheek, and every inch of her face was purple and black. Only by the Emperor's mercy - or by some Eldar healing power - she was able to open a single eye.
Once more, she'd almost been defeated... by a single traitor marine no less.
Her hands hurt. A new sensation. She flexed her fist, inspecting the scrapes that marked her knuckles. Even guarded by Ember Celica and carapace armor, they suffered from her aura depletion.
Shouldn't have hit that serf so hard.
Sighing, she curled up, bringing her knees close to her chest. This is what I deserve. At least I managed some decent casting without going completely batshit.
She huffed, a weak laugh. Amat's words came back to her. 'You had no idea.' He wasn't wrong, it just didn't make her feel any better.
How long do I have to live in the Imperium before I learn? How long until I learn the old ways won't always work?
She wondered if Weiss suffered too when she first arrived. She'd grown old on Remnant, but arrived as a child. As did Pyrrha.
What makes me special? Why did I arrive on Woadia as an adult?
Yang grunted. Her head ached, and asking impossible questions didn't help. Swinging her feet off the bed, she sat up, steadying herself on the bedside. Blood rushed to her head, a purple haze that swallowed her vision. With a grunt, she hopped off the bed.
Bare feet slapped at the cold wraithbone floor. She shivered. Pressing on, she made her way out of the medbay and into the halls of the Void-Whisper. She'd gotten to know the ship well enough in the few weeks she'd spent aboard. Well enough to not get lost. It was still a dizzying collection of corridors and snaking hallways, all of them sparse and nondescript.
"Amat?" She called. No response.
Probably painting in the cargo bay. Her stomach rumbled, demanding her attention.
Well, I know where I'm headed.
Keeping a hand on the walls, she made her way back to the cargo bay. A pair of mariners passed her by, making an obvious attempt to avoid eye contact. She watched them stalk down the halls, backs ramrod straight and clad in black robes. Buncha assholes. The sooner she was done with this Black Library business, the better.
And then what? You're just gonna ignore the fact that a few of these eldar are Pyrrha's family?
The Imperium... hell, the Milky Way was unfathomably large. What were the chances of her running into more of her friends?
Well, if they've been anything like they have this year, pretty damn good. She sighed. I suppose it's better to play nice. If Josephus doesn't have anything on Ruby, it'd be good to have another set of eyes poking around the galaxy.
But what if the Tou'Her don't play nice? Where do their ultimate loyalties lie? To their craftworld, or to their family? To-
"Golden fucking Throne, Yang!"
Yang turned to the voice, squinting with her one good eye. It was Williams, the kasrkin medic.
"Hey man," she replied with a wave.
"Captain said you got fucked up," he said with a low whistle. "He was not lying."
"You should see the other guys," Yang said. "What are you doing out here?"
Williams shifted his weight, purple eyes searching elsewhere. "Ordered to collect you, actually. Captain didn't like leaving you in eldar hands."
Yang blinked with her one good eye. By Darron's standards, he was either doing her a favor by 'rescuing' her from the clutches of xenos, or making sure she didn't spend too much time alone with them. Either way, she didn't like Darron's meddling.
"Well here I am," Yang said. "I was headed back anyway."
"Good to hear," Williams said. "This place gives me the creeps."
"It's too quiet," Yang concurred.
Williams appraised her. "That's exactly it," he said, voice dripping contempt. "It's like a graveyard in here."
"Well, let's not keep Darron waiting," Yang said, passing the medic. "He's bound to get antsy otherwise."
"About that," Williams asked, falling in beside her. "Before we get to the Captain, I have to ask… how'd the mission go?"
"We're still here, aren't we?" Yang asked pointedly. "Wouldn't be having the conversation otherwise."
"That badly?" Williams asked.
"What is it about medics being insufferable assholes?" Yang asked, a hint of a smile on what was left of her face. "It's almost as if it's a job requirement to have the bedside manner of an ill-tempered grox."
"It's part of the job description," Williams said. "We also come equipped with speciality bullshit detectors. So I'll ask again - off the record… how did the mission go?"
"You won't like the answer dude, so quit asking." Yang replied.
Williams scratched at the back of his neck. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Other than my face, it went pretty well," Yang said. "Turns out when you don't spend every minute snipping at the eldar, they're actually powerful allies."
Williams frowned.
"Told you," Yang said. Williams ceased his pestering, but he did to ponder her response carefully. Probably the best I can get from these guys.
Yang's predictions turned out to be accurate, as Darron was already halfway through his allotted lhos by the time they arrived in the cargo bay. He acknowledged their arrival with a grunt before grinding his stick into the floor. He made a concentrated effort to smear the ash around as much as possible. Even managed to get some on the walls.
"I got the mission report from Lossamdir," Darron said, spitting out the name. "He said you made a decent account of yourself."
"From an eldar, that's practically gushing praise," Yang said. "Can you spare a lho?"
"I don't have many left," Darron said.
"You also didn't get your face smashed in by a traitor marine," Yang replied. "And the eldar skimped out on the pain meds."
Darron looked to his wife, who gave him a noncommittal shrug. With great reluctance, he handed her a lho stick.
"Thanks," she said, igniting it with the light of her soul. The kasrkin radiated disdain, but Yang didn't care. Taking a drag, she did her best to block out the constant, droning pain.
"Lossamdir mentioned the traitor marines," Darron said. "Ahriman's lot."
"Yeah," Yang said. "If you wanna talk about warp fuckery, those assholes certainly count. Armor stuffed with dust, animated by magic and shit. Slaves," she added with a sneer.
"And you survived?"
Yang let loose a trail of smoke. "We kicked their ashes," she said. The kasrkin groaned, but she'd earned a shameful grin from the Lieutenant. "Fuck you, that was funny," Yang protested. Chera gave her a Woadian salute.
"This is serious, Sergeant," Darron said.
"We all made it back," Yang growled. "An eldar got his leg blown off, but we survived. We won. There's nothing to talk about."
"Were you this disrespectful to Sergeant Jorvis?" Darron asked.
"Back the fuck up Captain," Yang said, pointing at him with the lit end of her lho stick. "Jorvis earned my respect. That salty son of a bitch was pushing eighty and he still fought on the front lines. Wasn't trained on fucking Cadia either." She sighed, taking another drag. The smoke scorched her throat and poured out from her ruined nostrils, but it tasted good. Took the edge off. "I'm sorry. We shouldn't fight. Not on board an eldar ship. Not on this mission."
"Wise," Darron allowed, his eyes narrow. "And I agree."
"Amat didn't tell you all of this though?" Yang asked. She huffed a short laugh, which sent a lance of pain arcing through her jaw. "I'm sure he'd be more cooperative."
Darron managed a smile as well. "I thought the same, but I haven't seen him since he dropped you off at the medbay."
The dining hall was quiet, unusual for this time of the cycle. Maion found it appropriate however, given the damage suffered by the Void-Whisper - many of the mariners were either busy with patchwork repairs or grieving their fallen brethren.
Amat the assassin was also quiet, staring at her from across the table. His face was blank, an oddity considering his mon'keigh origins. He kept it like an eldar - though she doubted the irony ever surfaced in his mind.
"Thank you for meeting with me," she said, pouring him a glass of summervine. He watched every scarlet drop fall free from the crystal decanter, his eyes like sunbursts that scoured her soul.
"What do you need?" He asked.
Maion pushed the drink towards the assassin. "This is summervine," she said. "This particular sample was brewed on the lower decks of Il-Kaithe."
He inspected it carefully, searching it for hints of poison or other such tamperings.
"I promise you it is safe to drink," she said. "Though it's not the finest I can offer… Il-Kaithe is not known for its pursuit of good summervine. An Alaitoc vintage would be a more generous offering, but they would probably pilot their craftworld into a sun rather than let a drop of it touch mon'keigh lips."
Amat took a careful mouthful, tasting it to its fullest.
"Yet you give it to me of your own free will," Amat said cautiously. "A mon'keigh."
"You are observant for your kind," Maion said. "A rarity."
"It is who I am," he replied.
"Well," Maion continued, "Il-Kaithe cannot afford the same luxuries as Alaitoc. We do not share the same priorities. Where they are the cultural touchstone of the eldar, we are militants, sworn enemies of chaos. We are far more willing to work with entities Altaioc would not even consider."
Amat took another swallow of summervine. He was handling it well, and appeared to enjoy it. "I doubt that tasting alien wine is the reason you're here."
"Correct," Maion answered. The purpose for serving him summervine was to determine if he could answer her questions without descending into dogmatic lines of thought, but the assassin did not need to know that.
"I know you have been stalking the halls of the Void-Whisper," Maion continued, "but there is also an air of curiosity about you, something rare for a mon'keigh. Questions fill your soul."
A huff of laughter escaped him. "I can't say you're wrong, xenos. But there is something troubling you as well. You eldar like to pretend that you are impenetrable and serene, but you are as opaque as glass."
Maion frowned. Perhaps the summervine gambit was not the best course of action. Perhaps I should have simply gone straight to Yang. What was most irritating was that he was right.
"Very well, assassin. I was never good at the liar's game."
"So you keep saying," Amat replied.
Maion took a sip of her own summervine. "You are not like your comrades," she said. "And Yang favors you with her attentions."
He shifted in his seat, eyes meeting his drink. The question made him uncomfortable. "I have seen Remnant," he said. "I have said this before."
"Yet you still drink 'xenos' wine, where any other mon'keigh would slit their own throats rather than swallow a mouthful. Why is that, assassin?"
"Because of Yang," he said, as if it explained everything. "She lives her life without fear or suspicion. Even if she should. She is…" he fumbled, unable to find the proper words. "Free," he said finally. "In a way no other human can be."
Maion blinked. Not the answer she had been expecting. Perhaps this is why I am destined never to walk the Path of the Seer.
"And you seek to emulate her?" Maion asked.
"Understand her," he said, clearly unwilling to discuss the matter any further. "Why did you seek me out, Maion?"
"A simple question Amat," she said. "Do you believe this mission will be of any use?"
"To the Black Library?" he asked. She nodded. "I can't say. And it doesn't matter if it is or isn't. I go with Yang."
"Such uncommon dedication," Maion said, hoping to pry deeper.
"She cannot fall to chaos," he replied. "No matter what. And she is my friend. She is… brighter when I'm around."
"Oh?" An interesting line of questioning for later perusal. "And the fact that it was proposed by eldar doesn't bother you?"
"Of course it does," Amat said. "It was Garnet's idea, wasn't it? And for that matter, why didn't he explain himself? Are you not family?"
"That's not... " Maion frowned, caught off-guard by the assassin's pointed questions. "Garnet is a seer. Mon'keigh often mock eldar for their obtusity, but it is not uncommon for eldar to think the same of our most revered mystics."
Amat found that amusing, picking up his glass with a hint of a smile. "To the mysteries of witchcraft then?" He asked, extending his glass.
Maion smiled wide. Now she understood why Yang was so attached to him. In a galaxy overflowing with mon'keigh, Amat was the closest thing to a real human she could find. A source of comfort, a beacon of succor in a benighted world. The implication that she could not find the same in Weiss spoke volumes about the direction of the Ice Queen's life.
"To the mysteries of warp-craft," Maion concurred, meeting his glass and drinking deep. "Personally, I cannot see the end of the road Garnet has set us upon. He seems convinced, but he was always given over to flights of fancy. Even Grandmother knew that."
They sat in silence for a moment, relishing the quiet of the dining hall. Their eyes met, and a shiver of discomfort ran up Maion's spine. Had Amat the fate to be born an eldar, he would have certainly been among her comrades at the Shadowed Sword - no matter what the oversized rifle on his back said.
"And what questions currently beset you?" Maion asked.
"Your semblance," Amat answered immediately. "It was not difficult to deduce, nor was Garnet's. You flit between the shadows like you were born from them."
Maion nodded. "A fortunate boon, considering the Path I walk upon."
"And Garnet's is his shield?"
"Sort of," Maion answered. "It is a form of soul projection, but he has always been tight-lipped about the details."
Amat nodded. "If you say so. Honestly, the concept of auras and semblances still troubles me."
"It is simply a matter of the soul," Maion explained. "Surely Weiss showed you that?"
"Yang told me that, but Weiss showed me none of it," he replied. "And though she showed me quite a bit, the more intricate details elude me." He waved his hand. "But that's not what's eating at me. It's Lossamdir."
"Oh?" Maion prompted.
"Yes. I realize he is an exarch now, and there is little left of your Uncle within him… but he has to realize the benefits such power could provide. Why did he not use his semblance? He has surely discovered it by now."
Maion frowned as bitter, terrible memories surfaced.
"Maion?"
"Obsidian's semblance was not… suited for the work at hand. It is a great and terrible thing, one he discovered at a great price," she said. Even now, she could see Aunt Faenys breaking down, hands pulling at her luscious black hair, tears streaming down her cheeks when she realized her husband would not return to her. "The moment he unlocked it, his war-mask swallowed him whole."
A/N: We'll be taking a break from Yang's Gang next chapter, and go see what's up on Weiss' corner of the Galaxy. Hope she's doing well!
Also, leave a review to let me know what you thought! Feedback is the best. :)
One last thing for 40k lore nerds like myself - here, I described Alaitoc as the 'cultural touchstone' of the Eldar race, which I feel is consistent with their portrayal in the Path of the Eldar series, though it might contrast with other portrayals in other Black Library publications.