Book Two: Corruption's End
Chapter 76: I Won't Leave You Behind
"When the days turn dark, and we start to fall / I will pick you up, and we will fix it all." - Hymn to [REDACTED]
Maion was a patient soul, a trait long-learned in the halls of the Shadowed Sword, yet despite her nature she found herself restless. This was not the waiting she was accustomed to, the slow and steady hunt. This was agony.
Ahriman inched ever closer, and their escape hinged on reaching Captain Ellamár. As the seconds dragged on without a sound from her uncles, the unfamiliar note of desperation began to claw at the edges of her mind. Even the mon'keigh assassin had retreated within the halls of the Black Library, leaving Yang behind.
The kasrkin woman fretted with her hellgun, while her grandparents said nothing, staring with furrowed brows at the encroaching ships. Asillar said nothing, his ruby-red eyes blinking slowly, a storm of emotions flickering behind his black expression.
What terrible fate have I wrought upon them?
Garnet had seen naught but blackness in their future, yet Maion pushed onward regardless, shaming her family and warband into action, railing against common sense and better judgement. They had found what they sought, true, but was it worth their lives? Maion was willing to pay that price, but she had dragged a dozen souls along with her, to say nothing of the entire Void-Whisper. And the Black Library itself. All would burn in the flames of Ahriman's ambition.
"Do not blame yourself," Asillar said, striding away from the edge of the jetty. Maion looked up, meeting the Swooping Hawk's troubled gaze. "You merely did what you thought was best."
"An ego project," Maion mumbled, glancing at her grandparents. "Had we not arrived, this could have all been avoided."
"That is likely," Asillar said, his metallic wings folding in on themselves and pressing into his back. "And though it would give me the utmost pleasure to crow that 'I told you so', I find myself unwilling to say the words."
"Yet you managed to regardless," Maion said, with a chuff of grim amusement.
Asillar blinked, before a half-smile reached his lips. "So I did. My apologies, it was not my intention."
"The amusing thing about intentions," Maion muttered, her eyes parsing Ahriman's flagship, "is that they mean little and less when confronted with their results."
"Though we are soon to meet with disaster," Asillar said, "I do not regret my decision to join you."
"Is that humility I hear within you?" Maion said. "A whiff of conviction?"
Asillar waved his hand dismissively. "The spawn of mon'keigh can hear whatever they wish, but the reality remains. I have been thinking of your words these past few cycles. The ones you spoke with such stubborn conviction."
Maion sighed. "Words set alight by blind, short-sighted arrogance."
"Yes, but I heard a note of truth within them, shrouded though it was. I have long looked at the Path of the Warrior as a means to quench my anger, to compartmentalize and assuage it. Direct it towards a useful pursuit. Now, I cannot help but look at my previous thoughts as... selfish." He huffed and donned another half-smile. "I curse you Maion Tou'Her. My life was infinitely simpler when you and your detestable family did not intrude upon it."
"Your words lack their usual venom," Maion noted.
"It is because I have decided to join you in your vainglorious quest. Long I have tread upon the Path of the Warrior, my rage unquenchable, hiding behind my war-mask. Escaping it is impossible, but finding absolvence and peace… I might do so in death. Or another Path, should I live to walk it."
Maion recoiled in surprise, his words finally tearing her eyes away from Ahriman's approach. "You mean you are not donning a Harlequin's mask?"
He shook his head. "No. Death will suit me better. And should we survive, I believe the council of Autarchs deserve an… objective report of this mission, one uncolored by your family's affectations."
"Thank you, Asillar." Maion said. Strangely, his dry and acerbic commentary brought her a measure of comfort. He would fight and die in pursuit of victory. As would she. As would they all.
A deafening crack sounded from Niurvenah, its source unmistakeable. The assassin.
"How?" Asillar said, his words echoing Maion's thoughts.
"Duulamor, most likely," Pyrrha said, not deigning to look at the dead city. Asillar considered her words and said nothing. Maion did the same.
Yang stirred in her sleep, her face flickering with troubled seizing. Her lips worked, their words half-formed and fleeting.
"I would not issue thanks so soon," Asillar said. "Blood is in the air. I can smell it."
Garnet leapt from his position, grinning and swallowing deep breaths. "A lander is on its way. Departure is imminent, and we must be ready." The visitors stirred to action, but Maion did not join them.
Asillar's words rang true. The day's violence had only just begun.
Yang broke through the haze that suffocated her mind, ripping it apart with force of will and a short, gasping breath. Before her stood the decrepit city of Niurvenah, ancient and broken. The golden walls of the Webway pulsed with danger, headache-inducing rifts splitting the air.
"Gah," she said, before realizing. "Ahriman!" She cried jolting upwards. Maion's hand landed on her shoulder.
"We know," she said. "We are leaving."
"Leaving?" Yang asked. Then she saw Ahriman's ship. Felt his strangling presence, smelt it in the air. It stunk of ozone and hate and envy and a terrible, grievous loss. "Yeah," she said eventually. "Leaving."
"Are you alright?" Pyrrha asked, approaching her.
"Yeah. It's just... fuck," Yang managed. "I wasn't expecting him to show up."
"No one was," Pyrrha rumbled, her milky-green eyes clouded with worry. "My kith and kin will not admit it, but they were similarly afflicted by that bastard's presence. You were unprepared. I'm sorry."
Yang sighed. "Wait," she said, realizing. "Where's Amat?"
Pyrrha said nothing. Caelus was silent too, minding his wife's silence with polite morosity. A crack of thunder sounded out through the dead city, a sound that Yang would never forget.
"No.' She sprinted to the edge of the jetty, searching, desperately searching. She saw it for only a moment, before an eldar landing craft docked, swallowing up Niurvenah in a sliver of Wraithbone.
"It's time to go, Yang," Pyrrha said.
No. Not this time.
Not again.
"I'm going after him," Yang declared as the visitors boarded the landing craft. No one acknowledged her. Not even Chera. "Are you fucking serious?" Yang demanded. "What the fuck is wrong with you people?"
"We need to leave," Maion said gently. "Ahriman draws near, and we cannot fight him. Amat has sacrificed himself so that the sorcerer cannot claim victory. Honor him."
"Fuck you," Yang spat. "Chera? C'mon, a little support."
Chera ran a hand through her undercut. "If we die here, Josephus wins. The eldar win." Even though she said it as Asillar shuffled passed, no one objected to her words.
Yang breathed deep of the Webway's air, poisoned though it was with Ahriman's coming. "Cowards." She said, a single word. Maion winced.
"Unjustly said," Garnet said, his face dour. "The Black Library is in danger. We are in danger."
"The bigger picture must be considered," Pyrrha concurred.
"It's a five-minute detour," Yang countered, the pleading words ringing with white-hot fury. This wasn't going to happen.
Not again.
"He could be dead," Caelus suggested. The thunderous echo of Amat's exitus rifle filled the Webway, deep and resounding. Yang crossed her arms.
"Yang..." Pyrrha said, pushing past her husband to meet her old friend's eyes.
Yang looked down at her friend, so bent and withered with age. Frail, but full of fire and determination. "Weiss looked into my mind," Yang said. Chera's gaze lowered. "She read her fill of me. Every secret, every thought, everything I've ever hidden. I want you to do the same thing, Pyrrha. I want you to root around as deep as you can go, and find a part of me that will leave the Webway without my friend."
Silence.
"Do it, Pyrrha. If you find something, I'll step aboard without a second thought," Yang continued. No response. "When you come up empty-handed, I want you to know that you'll have to drag me aboard the Void-Whisper if Amat's not with me." Another crack of the extius rifle. "I'll walk if I have to." Garnet's eyes met his brother's.
"The fabled Xiao Long stubbornness in action," he mumbled, to no one's amusement.
Pyrrha sighed. "My son is right. I… will not enter your mind. I hear the truth in your words, feel the weight of them in your soul. Very well. We shall aid you in your rescue of Amat the Vindicare Assassin."
"Grandmother-" Maion started incredulously before Caelus raised his hand.
"I am in agreement with her. You said it yourself - there must be goodwill between the eldar and humans. This is a gesture of exactly that."
"One way of putting it," Yang growled, stepping aboard. With one last look over her shoulder, she slammed the door shut and punched it twice. "Let's get a move on. I don't want to give Ahriman an inch of breathing space."
She looked out at Niurvenah through the window of the lander.. I'm coming, dammit, I'm not going to let this galaxy win. "I wasn't asking for permission," she said to Pyrrha as they soared towards the dead city. "But… thanks." A withered hand patted her back.
"Anything for a friend."
It didn't take them long to find Amat - following the carnage and the report of his exitus rifle was child's play. Yang's fury had not abated. It seethed within her, and she bounced on the soles of her feet, worried that each thunderblast would be the last. The others watched her, resigned. She was being selfish. She knew that. She didn't care.
There wouldn't be a repeat of Ros. Of Ruby.
As they neared the assassin's perch, Yang felt a sinking-stone feeling in her gut, the taste of copper heavy in the air. Daemons. Nothing like what assaulted Shao-la, but daemons nonetheless.
The war-party tensed, slapping shuriken canisters into place and avoiding Yang's eyes. Pyrrha simply rested against her husband, fingers rapping on her walking staff. She wore a small grin.
"Swinging around," the pilot called, the sound singing through the landing craft.
"Get him and get out," Chera said, donning her helmet. "And for the love of the Emperor, be quick about it."
Yang nodded. The doors shot open, revealing the Webway once more. She wasted no time meeting it - she launched herself from the landing craft, taking in the carnage before her. Amat was hurt, clutching his leg. His other hand clasped his smoking rifle, its barrel flicking between the score of daemons that lunged for him.
They were hideous creatures, crimson-skinned beasts with twisting horns and backwards dog-legs that ended in cloven hooves. Each one carried an obsidian-hued sword that flickered red, their pommels decorated with the Mark of Khorne.
It was always fucking Khorne.
"AMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT!" She bellowed, soaring through the air. The assassin's head jerked up, away from the daemon that was about to pierce him. It tried to finish its work, but Yang's plummet was faster.
Her fist descended, mashing the daemon into a bloody paste against the wraithbone tile. Its remnants dissolved, floating away on a non-existent wind. She spun, fists at the ready, waiting for her next challenger. None approached.
"Amat, you fucking idiot!" She cursed, eyes as red as the daemons' skin.
"Yang, you need to leave!" Amat protested, still clutching his leg. The landing craft was banking around into a turn. Just over a minute before it arrived. "You-" his complaint was bit off by a groan of pain.
"I'm not leaving you," Yang said. "I'm not leaving anyone, not any more. Never again."
"I don't think they care," Amat said, taking advantage of the lull to reload his exitus pistol. "Leave me."
"Lisssten to the assssasssssin," one of the daemons hissed. Yang couldn't tell which one spoke, they were circling too fast. Too many shifting bodies. Their bloodlust hung heavy in the air, thick enough to choke Yang's tongue. Only absolute loyalty to their god kept them in check. And then, only by a fraction. "Come with ussss," another one said from behind her. "Leave thisss place. Follow your desssstiny, your truessssst masssster awaitsssss."
"I'd rather piss broken glass," Yang said, each word ringing true, thudding against her heart with clarity and purpose. These creatures were her demons made manifest, and today she would deny them.
The daemons growled and snapped at that, a mixture of eagerness and frustration overcoming them. "Then you will die," one hissed.
"You wanna dance?" Yang scoffed, knocking her fists together. "Then let's fuckin' dance!"
She burst forwards, Ember Celica granting her unrelenting speed as she rocketed towards the largest daemon. A leaping punch caught it unaware, caving its skull in with a blast of pellets.
Howls split the air, and the daemons charged her.
Good. Fight me. Feed on my fury.
Leave.
Amat.
ALONE.
She met them head on, her power sword scything through the first challenger. Ten surrounded her, teeth flashing, forked tongues flickering. A sword came for her neck. Yang ducked under it, planting her sword in the ground to act as a pivot point. Spinning, her boot cracked against a daemon's jaw, stumbling it.
"COME ON!" Yang roared. She felt the blood rise in her chest, the thrill of murder within her. It was not her. But she owned it. And she would use it. "You're barely daemons! Weak! Pathetic!"
A sword howled for her head, but she turned it aside with Ember Celica, using the other gauntlet to punch its chest. The shotgun blared, but the daemon still stood. Yang roared wordlessly, bringing her other fist around to follow up the first strike. The second punch tore through its chest, while the third was rained upon its head, blasting it into the slick wraithbone.
Two rushed her from opposite sides. Wasting no time, she hurled her power sword at the first, where it sailed through its chest and the daemon behind it, clattering to the ground beside Amat. The other daemon swiped at her, the blow close enough to taste.
Yang could feel the hatred that rippled off the creature's sword, the unquenchable thirst for blood behind it. She leapt upwards, catching one of its horns. Swinging around, she planted her feet on its shoulders and grabbed the other horn. It screeched in fury.
It was the last thing it would ever do.
Yang pulled, bellowing all the while. The daemon split in half, its body rent in two. She tossed the halves aside, a blood-spattered grin on her face. Just as she wished, the daemons had abandoned Amat. The spilt blood of their comrades and the killing lust that scoured her veins was too tempting to ignore.
Predictable.
Her grin widened. More came at her. She welcomed them with bared fists. The first one died in seconds, Ember Celica tearing its mouth open and allowing Yang access. She filled her fist with the daemon's insides, ripping them out the creature's shattered jaw.
Tossing the body aside, she used the momentum to land another kick, her aura-enhanced blow snapping a daemon's horn in two. They caught her then, a blade landing against her collarbone.
The black metal hissed and spat against her aura, the taste impossible to ignore. It sang to her of a new galaxy, one ruled by blood and her fists and violence and-
Screaming, she thrust her forehead into the attacker, sundering its elongated skull. Catching its arm as it fell away, she threw it into its comrades. They tore it to shreds in the effort to reach her.
Amat fired his pistol, the noise like a volcanic eruption. A bank of daemons dissipated, bursting apart under the Officio Assassinorum's most lethal round.
"Amat!" Yang said. "For fuck's sake, man!"
The noise shook the demons from their blind fury. They pivoted, bearing down on the forgotten threat.
"Oh no you don't!" Yang cried, bursting forwards. She caught one of their horns, yanking it back and throwing it on the floor. Her boot met its face, crushing it beneath her heel. Amat's pistol barked again, shredding a pair of daemons. A third raised its sword, ready to cleave him in half.
Yang screamed, but it was too late - Chera's hellgun speared the creature's skull, splattering the assassin in scarlet ichor. A hail of shuriken followed, scything into the collected daemons from above.
Thank the Emperor. It slowed them down, but there were still too many. Where are they coming from? Were they all sent here for me?
"You will ssssserve wonderfully," one spat, its sword couched.
Yang closed her eyes. She reached far away and found her fear again. Her fear of Ros and Ruby, her fear of what happened when she could not protect them. Her fear of the all-consuming grief. The feeling when Amat had tried to leave her, to die on some stupid self-sacrificing bullshit. She recalled Garnet's lessons, to shape the warp to her whims, to draw on positive emotions. Yet she could not.
Guilt and fear suffused her - if she failed here, she would have rendered Amat's sacrifice pointless, and doomed Pyrrha and her family to damnation. Raw power swelled within her, checked by a mental hiccup, a hang-up that barred her from dousing the Webway in flames.
Fear would do for now.
She pushed it through her lips, and a blast of golden flame engulfed the daemon. It screamed and writhed, slapping at the flames that swallowed it whole. Regret pulsed through her, not for the daemon's fate, but for how she'd banished it. She wanted to feel it die, feel her knuckles bruise on the otherworldly skin.
No! No, no no!
That wasn't her. Remember the fear. Fear is human. Fear is natural.
But isn't it so much easier to murder? To seize victory, to grind your boot into the defeated, feel them squirm and know that they are beaten?
No!
"Shut up!" Yang screamed at no one, lashing out at a daemon. Her punch caught it across the jaw, and it stumbled back. She grabbed its arm and pulled, yanking the unnaturally long limb from its socket.
Blood painted her, painted everything.
Advancing, she laughed, a low rumble building in her throat. Who was next? There were so many to pick from. She made her choice - the one whose eyes had parsed Amat.
The daemon sensed her hatred and desperation, its head snapping around to face her. It roared, but she found its voice pitiful and weak. Yang met its roar and charged, boots pounding across the floor.
A daemonic sword lunged for her heart. She sidestepped it, spinning around and planting a boot in its face, relishing the crunch of teeth on her heel. This was good. Great, even. It felt so much better than being pummeled by a blue-and-yellow geist, helpless and hurting and-
Yang bellowed a war-cry, pushing her weakness away. Grabbing the daemon's arm as it bent under the force of her blow, she hurled it in the air. Pivoting, she blasted another with Ember Celica, the aura-enhanced pellets dissolving its face into a red mist. Catching her first victim, she raised it above her head and brought it down on her knee, snapping its back in two.
She was still laughing.
"Yang!" Amat cried.
Her head whipped around to look for him, but she didn't catch Amat's meaning - a sword bit into her shoulder, her aura pushing it away reluctantly, the kasrkin armor keeping her alive. But how sweetly the sword sung... Blood was its endless, droning chant. Victory and strength.
And what was wrong with that?
"They're EMPTY!" Yang screamed, lashing out at the wielder. She missed, Ember Celica soaring through the air unsatisfied. "Lies! They don't mean anything!"
"Ussssselesss," a daemon hissed, its tongue flicking out between its teeth.
There are too many.
The realization struck Yang with the force of a Thunder Hammer. Her semblance coursed through her veins, reveling in the rivers of blood that poured down her arms, the adrenaline that swelled her chest.
But it wasn't enough. Amat was going to die. She was going to die. Her desperation to save a friend would cost the Imperium everything.
I'm such a fucking idiot.
Pushing aside another attack, she grabbed the daemon and hurled it off the tower. A brief glimpse at the roar of shurikens and hotshot blasts gave her the trajectory of the eldar lander. Hope was not yet lost.
Wasting no time, she collected her power sword in one hand, and Amat in the other. "Ready to fly, assassin man?" She asked.
Amat said nothing, clutching his leg in one hand and his gear in the other.
"Glad to hear it." She cut down a daemon that neared them, power sword humming with blue glee. Blood painted the decrepit wraithbone, both demonic and human. So much goddamn fun.
Amat pressed the muzzle of his exitus pistol into her neck. It was searing hot, hot enough to sizzle against her skin.
"Yeah." she said, shaking the blood out of her eyes. "Yeah. I know."
Pouring every inch of her aura into her legs, she crouched. The daemons neared, believing their prey defenseless.
But then their prey was gone, soaring through the air. Yang sheathed her power sword and reached, snagging the lip of the lander door with one hand. Amat grabbed her belt with all his might, but his grip was slackening.
And so was hers.
Maion hooked an arm under Yang's, hauling them aboard while her shuriken pistol hissed.
"You thrice-damned fools!" Maion cried over the roar of combat.
But Yang couldn't let the admonishment get to her. She was wearing the biggest smile of her life. A real and honest smile.
"We're getting the fuck out of here!" Chera bellowed, her face stained with las-soot.
"Sounds good to me!" Yang said. The lander peeled away from the tower, giving her one last look at the daemons. They howled in impotent rage, their failure and unsated bloodlust rippling off them like sweat.
Yang gave them the Woadian two-fingered salute, grinning all the while. She did it.
She did it.
"I fucking did it," she said. She laughed. Pyrrha cocked her eyebrow at her, but the old champion could not contain her smile either.
"You came close, you know," Obsidian said.
"I know," Yang said. "But I managed to shut them up. Put them away." She laughed again, slapping Amat on the shoulder. Her hands were shaking. "Emperor, I feel amazing. How we doing with the whole Ahirman situation?"
"Poorly." Caelus said. "He's near. Far too near. Our escape is not guaranteed."
"Fuck that," Yang and Chera said simultaneously. They glanced at each other, but said nothing. "We're getting out of here no matter what," Yang continued. "We came too far and learned too much." Silence met her words. "And I'm sorry. I couldn't…" she glanced at Amat, who was still clutching his leg. "This is my fault. I couldn't leave him behind."
"You should have," Amat said, a sentiment echoed by Obsidian and Asillar.
"And you should have domed me on Uriel," Yang said. "So I'd say we're even."
Her grin died quickly when a blade of ice cut through her memory - 'one wound from a corrupted weapon will send you spiralling down into damnation'. Weiss' words.
Yang's power sword flashed once more, severing Amat's leg at the knee.
He screamed in heart-wrenching agony, and the war-party shrunk from the sudden rush of smoking blood that splattered across the cabin. His wound had been severed from his body. Hopefully it wasn't too late. Yang deactivated her sword, tucking it into its scabbard once more. Amat's eyes were wide, his training keeping him conscious.
"Sorry, man."
"FFFFFFFFUCK!" Amat cried, clutching his stump. "THANK YOU!" He managed. Yang grinned, collapsing next to her friend. He understood.
"Woulda sucked if you just scraped your leg on some rebar, huh?"
Despite himself, Amat forced a laugh through gritted teeth. "Just a bit."
The rest of the war-party put their weapons away, realizing Yang's intent. Obsidian clucked his tongue.
"There are better ways to do that," he said. "But I digress." Gingerly, he picked up Amat's leg and said a few words, electric-blue runes swirling around the severed limb. The flesh within turned to ash and blew away into nothingness, leaving a scrap of synskin. He tossed it to Amat. "Figured you would want it."
"Thanks, eldar," Amat said.
"You are a great fool, assassin," Pyrrha said, milky green eyes staring through the bulkhead behind them. "A great fool indeed."
"Maybe," Amat returned. "I should have died."
"You did your damndest," Yang said. "Sorry about your leg. You'll probably have to go see Prexius now."
"Put me back," Amat said through clenched teeth. Yang laughed, offering him her hand. He took it, pain causing him to clench with all his might. Chera stooped next to him, med-kit at the ready.
Yang helped the kasrkin tend to Amat's wound, yet she couldn't help but notice Pyrrha growing ever more distant. She leaned against her husband, who held her head against his chest, his hand resting gently against her circlet.
Pain entered her like a lance, spearing her to the floor of the lander.
ARE YOU FINISHED WITH KHORNE'S INTRUSIVE PESTS?
Sand filled Yang's throat as the sorcerer's words thundered through her mind. Not again.
YES, AGAIN.
The only noise that filled the landing craft was Chera treating Amat's wounds, both of them oblivious to the voice that thundered through Yang and every eldar aboard. But still, the assassin knew. He squeezed his friend's hand even tighter.
Begone from here, thundered Pyrrha's voice, devoid of all age and weariness. Today is the day of your ultimate failure.
I DISAGREE, CONSORT.
Fuck off! Yang tried, the response a peal of dark, uproarious laughter. Laughter that filled her mouth with blood. It leaked out of her mouth, spilled from the corners of her lips. Her shoulder burned, burned, burned - the Eye of Ahriman was upon her.
AND WHO IS THIS?
Yang screamed, clawed at her hair, desperate to shake off the probe that shredded her soul. It felt like a million cockroaches crawling under her skin, burrowing into every orifice and chewing at her very essence.
Amat's eyes went wide, but bloodloss kept him from aiding her. He too, was fading.
NO USE, YANG.
Ahriman tore through her memories, opening her mind like a book and devouring the pages. Only the weight of her soul and the Tou'Her's assistance kept him from seizing control.
BOTH OF YOU FROM… ELSEWHERE.
Images of Ruby flickered through her mind before she could stop them, every smile, every treasured moment, every tragedy.
AND THERE ARE MORE?
"NO!" She bellowed. Chera flinched, backing away from Yang, hellgun raised.
LEAVE HER ALONE came the cries of the Tou'Her, united and furious.
YOU ARE NOT MY GOAL, Ahriman answered. MY PRIZE IS BEYOND YOU ALL. BUT AS CURIOSITIES, YOU MUST BE… DETAINED.
"Ten seconds to docking at the Void-Whisper," the pilot cried, a moment too late.
A SHORT DELAY, I PROMISE.
The lander screeched to a halt mid-flight, the sudden shift in gravity throwing its occupants about like ragdolls. Yang caught Amat and put herself between him and the hull, the impact jarring her bones and depleting her aura.
He knows, he knows, he knows, he
A rift in reality split the lander in two, spilling its occupants onto the hull of the Void-Whisper and vomiting twisted daemons. Wraithbone fragments rained down from above while an explosion flattened them, a deafening, ear-shattering roar.
SEIZE THE INTERLOPERS. SLAY THE REST.
AN: I feel like I'm starting to rival Rooster Teeth in terms of 'terrible cliffhangers', but here we are regardless. I wish I could just release this whole story at once and spare you all the agony, but it's beyond me at the moment.
Also, in retrospect, I think I made the bloodletters a little weaker than their typical canon appearances. Honestly though, this is one of the few lore gaffes I don't care enough about to adjust.
If you're the type who likes to listen to music while reading, you can't go wrong with Rip and Tear from the Doom OST.