Chapter 62: Patriot
Sweat beaded on his forehead. Wispy-winged moths crawled over his helmet. Ikharos tried to swat them away, but they scrambled right back in search of sustenance. They found it, too, in the blood he had unintentionally wiped across his helm. There was an open cut on his palm and he didn't dare heal it as he did the marks from the Witch. Not with his pursuer closing in on him. He'd cut it on a thorny sapling formed of biomechanical chitin - a terminal of sorts, one that required sacrificing an opponent to activate. Ikharos had done so with a Thrall he'd plucked from a near-vacant hatching chamber and used the brief opportunity to download a couple of gigabytes worth of information. Most of the files were Auryuul-styled prayers, but there were a few other choice tidbits he was looking forward to studying later - if he found the time, between all the running and fighting for his life.
The air was stiflingly stale down in the catacombs of the budding Hive nest - even his helm's filters couldn't mask it. It smelled like the sweet rot of death. There were bodies everywhere - living, dead, and those in-between. Despite their loss of a Broodqueen, the Hive were still repopulating faster than Ikharos liked. At least they were bunching up in little family units. It made sneaking past them a little easier. He was sorely tempted to loose a Nova Bomb on every group he scented with his Light, though. It was hard to resist the murderous urge.
"We should save it for a Warp," Xiān whispered.
Ikharos grimaced. "A Warp? From down here? We don't know how far below the surface we are. If I try on a whim, we'll more than likely get an intimate view of the local geology's composition."
"Then let's get up! Get to the surface!"
"I don't know how! These tunnels spiral in every direction!"
"You're not looking for an escape route," Xiān said sullenly. "You're just looking for a fight."
"I'm looking for a way to hurt them. To cut their Achilles' tendons and watch them fall."
"This is a trap."
"I know. They're idiots, aren't they? This is a good place to work from."
Xiān shivered from within the recesses of his mind. "It doesn't feel like it."
Ikharos didn't have an answer for her. He could feel the Dark slithering around them - tendrils of malice that felt like bladed chains pulling against his skin. It didn't help that the bandage he'd wrapped around his injured hand was one formed of Hive leather, stripped from the robes of a young and very dead Wizard, but it was the best thing he could find. Transmatting in new materials was only going to attract attention, since the process involved moving matter with minute traces of Light, so in the interest of remaining at least semi-hidden he'd opted for a more local method of patching up. Not that it worked all that well; the leather felt like sandpaper scraping against the oversensitive skin around the bare cut.
Ikharos held his knife at the ready in his uninjured hand. Néhvaët was sheathed. The longsword's blade was simply too bright to bare to the subterranean world around him. Hive eyes were sharp, and they had a lot of them. One less than Eliksni, most of the time - but that was comparing apples and oranges. Eliksni were able trackers where natural scents and electro-magnetic traces were concerned, but magic and Light was something only the Hive and their Dark ilk could sniff out so skillfully.
Much to his detriment, that. Ikharos grimaced. He was being hunted. He was being tracked. He was being pursued. The big stomper was getting closer, all the time. The noise of its footfalls reverberated through the tunnels like a steady heartbeat, as if he were wandering through the dried arteries of a gargantuan beast on the verge of death.
His predator drove him onwards. Ikharos came to the realization that he was being herded rather than outright hunted - but at least it gave him a fair idea as to what was going on. He stumbled through chamber after chamber, grasping at all-too-sharp rocks in complete darkness. Only the most lavishly decorated of rooms had luminous green crystals. Ikharos always headed for those when he could; his helmet had a nightvision setting, which he made heavy use of, but the suffocating presence of the Dark caused his suit's systems to short out at irregular intervals.
The last chamber he reached like that turned out not to be a nursery, but a vast atrium in which Knights snarled and corralled their Acolytes and Thrall into order. Ogres had been reined and muzzled with horrific torture instruments intended to keep them in check, and Wizards regularly checked them over. Ikharos's position was more like a balcony arrayed high above, one of many. Too many tunnels dotted the cavern's wall. There was even a raised podium at the other end, and a gaping corridor behind it leading up out of sight.
"I think I found our escape route," Ikharos murmured.
"Oh sure. We just have to get past a literal army. There's got to be... hundreds of Hive down there! And- crap, Darkblade."
Ikharos glanced back to the podium. "I see him. His half-Ogre brother too. And... are those Erechaani?" A group of hunch-backed creatures were bowed before the Darkblade, all offering up scraps of ragged flesh and bones in reverent supplication. They were giving the monstrous warrior... tribute.
"Looks like that Ruuskn guy."
"I think they're talking. Can you hear them?"
"No. Too far. I could make something up."
"I want to say no..."
"'Rargh, I'm real big and real evil. Give me something tasty, or I'll eat you.'"
Ikharos smiled despite himself. "Perfect. That probably sums it up."
"Oh, hey, and 'Rargh, here, look, see this Worm? It's a little git, but it's got fancy magic powers. Too bad you guys can't...' Wait... Ikharos, he's handing the Worm over."
"I can see that..."
"He's not going to... Ew! He's doing it! He's... sweet Traveler above, he ate the Worm whole!"
The big Erechaani, Ruuskn, doubled over onto all fours and retched horribly. The alien looked to be in agony. Ikharos stared, disturbed if transfixed on the scene unfolding before him. "This... this isn't good."
"The others are doing it too. They're taking Worms. Like... like Hive do!"
"We gotta-"
The Darkblade lifted his axe into the air. Silence fell over the atrium. Even the Ogres went quiet. The lumbering warrior-morph looked about, eyeless save for the green slash running down his helmet, and rolled his shoulders. Scars covered his ancient armour and leathery flesh, but he otherwise appeared to be in good health. Not crippled by their fight like Ikharos had hoped.
The giant warrior bellowed something in the guttural Hive language. Ikharos doubted he would have understood if not for the Ascendent Tongue, forcing understanding upon him with searing clarity. "We must all be sharp! We must all be dutiful and honest, for that is the only truth in mortal and immortal existences! I see, now, that these flawed practitioners of truth are begging us for a righting of belief and existence. They are pretty-voiced chanters, but as great-god-king Oryx sayeth, 'The only way to make something good is to make something that can't be broken. And the only way to do that is to try to break everything.' He was a great speaker of truth, great-god-king Oryx, but I see now His failings. He tried to break these weavers of musical words and, though He shattered their worlds, their song lives on. Let the Worm and the Deep know this: I, Kirrnaka-Hul, will rectify the good King's mistake. I will mantle myself the Icon of Honesty, honest of all aspects worth being, and I will scour these silver orators of ugly weakness."
Blades raised into the air. Even the meagre gathering of Erechaani joined in, hefting chipped Cabal firearms and primitive tools carved from bones and rocks. The Darkblade turned around and, with his monstrous brother keeping pace, led the march out of the atrium. To the surface.
To their imminent invasion.
More Hive flooded in from adjacent chambers, most of them newborn Thrall. They cowered beneath the authority of the Acolytes, Wizards, and Knights herding them on. Xiān was right; it was an army. A big one, outfitted with Dark power and an insatiable lust for bloodshed. They were hungry and eager - and the Darkblade was offering them a feast of war.
"Oh hell," Ikharos backed away. He heard stomping from behind him, heavy and close and fast. He swiveled about, just an unarmoured Cabal hurtled out of the darkness. It was covered in dried blood and fresh cuts, drawn about the ripped skin of its torso in messy glyphs. There was a green shine in its eyes.
Ikharos gritted his teeth, bent his legs, and jumped to meet it. He slashed his knife across its neck, tearing out its throat, but it was close enough to slap a meaty paw around his midriff. The paw lit up with a special kind of rune formed out of wavering soulfire. The same one from earlier. DOOR and MOVE.
Ikharos bit out a curse as his surroundings shifted and changed for a second time.
Motion. Eyes in the dark. Eyes full of Dark. Bared teeth forged in shadow. The Broodqueen's leering visage, shrieking. Pain - around the wrist of his knife-hand. Barbed chains cut into his skin. Two Knights and an enthralled Legionary, working to pin him down.
Ikharos bellowed out a snarling roar and grabbed at unkindled flames. Solar sparked. A Knight lost its head and fell over. The Legionary lost an arm and kept on working, kept on pulling the chain. Ikharos swung his Dawnblade into the chain, but the metal held. It flexed with unnatural power. Hadium.
Shit.
The Broodqueen loomed close - out of range of his fiery blade, but close enough for him to see the macabre grin stretched across her misted face. There was someone else with her too, the height of a Knight but as slender as any Acolyte. It was the oversized Adherent. One of the leading siblings, Ikharos recalled. Its soulfire rifle was nowhere to be seen, but a long and thin blade dangled from one of its hands. It was like the Hive equivalent of rapier - a bit heavier, thicker, and overall larger than the human version, but the idea was there, buried under hadium flakes and sharpened chitin.
"Prepare for me its death!" The Broodqueen shrieked. "Return my form!"
Ikharos kicked at an Acolyte that ventured too close. Its skull caved in under the heel of his boot. There were others behind it, bright-eyed and cautious. And Wizards beyond them - Wizards ringing the room. It was the Broodqueen's personal coven.
The Adherent loped closer yet. Ikharos slashed at it, but it was quick on its feet and danced away. "I smell..." It tilted its horned head. Was that a family trait? They all had similar crests - barring the Darkblade. "I smell the blood of Osmium on it. The holy blood. The King's blood!"
Ikharos almost lost his footing as the Legionary and the remaining Knight tugged harder yet on the chain wrapped around his wrist. It felt like his arm was being pulled off by the jaws of a wickedly-fanged shark. With a great huff of effort, he viciously tugged back. Awoken-crafted armour-weave tore. Flesh ripped. Blood splashed. The chain bit ever deeper, but the Knight and Legionary stumbled closer, within reach. Ikharos mercilessly smote them, reducing them to ash.
Realizing he'd come unfettered, or something close to it, the Broodqueen flitted back and screamed. Her Wizards flew into action. Ikharos was quicker - and he filled the room with fire. Solar shields cracked, setting off a chain reaction. Wards imploded. Some Wizards died, while others were rendered immobile by crippling wounds and trauma-inducing burns. Only a few managed to remain floating - and fewer in a position to hit back.
Ikharos didn't give them the chance. He drew Néhvaët and grabbed at the limp, spiked chain the Hive had tried to bind him with. He charged his Light into his blood-slick hand - all attempts at stealth having flown out the window - and flooded the object with searing Solar energy. The thorned metal links glowed with heat.
000
"Palancar Valley belongs to me." Invoctol's light-formed image wavered and re-solidified. Formora forced upon herself a blank and uncompromising expression, though she imagined it was for naught; the Psion was focused entirely on Tarrhis. "Your... outlaws are to withdraw from the surrounding regions. If we find even a single Vandal sniffing at our doorstep, this armistice is over."
Tarrhis rumbled reluctantly. "You have your valley, then. Mine-people will not intrude."
"And our carrier-"
"Is Hive territory. You cannot claim it, One-Eye. Not while they have it."
"That ship belongs to us."
"Nama. To them. And all who fight them."
"That's our salvage. Ours." Invoctol leaned forward. "Not yours. I understand you scavengers make your lives through theft and vandalism-"
Tarrhis growled.
"-but this is a binding agreement of civilized parties. At least pretend to be civil. You can do that, can't you?"
"You push me, psesiskar."
"Oh, do save your petty insults for the Hive. That ship is ours - or we'll turn to your Ketch instead."
"You dare?"
"You people do so love your Ketches, don't you? It's your family. Your home. The carrier was home to my soldiers. It is their country. Their homeland. It's everything they fight for. Dirty it with your claws and we'll fall on you with cleaver and cannon."
"Keep your ship," Tarrhis snapped. He motioned to the hologram of the wreckage as seen from a Skiff. "It is useless as it is."
"And everything inside too."
"Nama."
"No? Why ever not?"
"Hive growths."
"... That." Invoctol took a breath. It sounded like a hiss coming through the communicator's speakers. "We're going to burn that."
"All of it. It must all be destroyed," Tarrhis vehemently pressed.
"Agreed. And then, with them gone, the Singers will be next..."
"We desire the corpse."
"Merida-X8 said much the same. I want my people returned, safe and alive. I know you have them."
Tarrhis gave a one-shouldered shrug. "So be it."
"And I want to be informed of all developments made with the corpse. Your human pet wants to study it, and I want to understand these Singers myself." Invoctol made a thoughtful sound and nodded to himself. "I want oaths in the paracausal vocalizations used by the local reality-butchers."
Tarrhis paused. His inner eyes narrowed. "Ikha Riis is not under mine-command. This is not a demand you can make of me."
"Then I want one of my specialists there in person! This creature attacked my soldiers, my children. Either we both learn how to kill them, or-"
"That can be arranged," Formora said, if only to dissuade the two from verbally lashing out at one another.
"Can it?" Tarrhis challenged softly. He looked at her.
She nodded. "Ikharos will agree."
"But I will not. The Cabal propose spies; they are never as subtle as they believe themselves."
"Hostages," Kiphoris muttered. "Not spies."
Invoctol exhaled angrily. "Correct."
Tarrhis glanced at the Captain. "What do you mean?"
Kiphoris loudly clacked his mandibles three times. Formora presumed it to be a gesture of respect, given how his head was lowered and his arms held out. "Hostages, mine-Baron. The Primus has hinted towards the possibility of offering... ambassadors to one another. To guard against betrayal and assist in representation."
"A guarantee of good faith," Formora added. She was familiar with the practice; the dwarven clans often made special use of it to keep the peace between the noble families.
Tarrhis looked, for a moment, disgusted. His own mandibles flared out. "Cabal murder as easily as breathing. Any and all we send will die."
Invoctol groaned. "Do you truly consider us savage animals like Hive and Erechaani? An oath made on our honour is unbreakable. We would never stoop down to your level."
They were like bickering children, Formora reflected - albeit clever children with armies and war machines at their beck and call, but children nonetheless. Tarrhis growled again and turned his icy gaze back onto the Psion. "I will consider it."
"I hope you do more than 'consider'." Invoctol's eye flashed. Formora couldn't divine what it meant. The Psion's pallid face was incredibly unexpressive. "Now then; your people."
"What of mine-people?"
"Those who don't follow you."
"... Krinok..."
"Yes. It's become apparent to me that you are engaged in a power feud with the commanding power of your House. I want no part of that. My soldiers are to refrain from involving themselves in Riisan politics. We are not allies."
Tarrhis huffed. "I would have it no other way."
Kiphoris perked up. His eyes were trained on the corner of the holotable, where a little orange light was blinking. He pressed a couple of buttons, leaned closer, and announced, "We are receiving an emergency call from Javek-Splicer and Raksil Tarrhis-heir."
"Emergency?" Formora's eyes frowned. What has he done now?
"Eia." Kiphoris glanced at her; he looked just as grave. "I will put it through."
000
He shoved Néhvaët through the Wizard's sternum. She let out a choked shriek and doubled forward, falling to the ground. Her claws grasped at him, gouging marks in the steel casing of his helmet. Ikharos rocked his head forward, knocking out her teeth and dazing her long enough for him to turn the impalement into a bisection. The two Wizard-pieces fell by the wayside, slowly being eaten up by Void energy from within.
Smoke filled the air. It was his fault, really; he'd started a fire knowing there wouldn't be any way to clear the air. Not while stuck underground. Green flashed from the other side of the room. The Broodqueen sucked in a lungful of air. She was going to add her own flames to the mix. Ikharos buckled down - right up until, too late, he remembered she wasn't prone to Solar screams alone. Void caltrops lanced up out of the ground. One of them sliced into his calf, right through reinforced sabaton and personal shield. Ikharos stumbled. A shape reared up in front of him, complete with misted horns and five eyes alight with burning vengeance. He attacked on pure instinct, flicking out with Néhvaët. The Broodqueen made to catch it, as she had done with his Eternity Edge before - but the enchanted blade went right through phantom-flesh and lopped off the majority of her hand.
She shrieked, horribly, and flitted back. Ikharos took the chance to drag out the absent energies coursing through the Wizard he'd just killed and funnel it into a healing touch. The meat of his calf mended together and scabbed over. It still stung from where acrid air touched it, but beyond that he was doing fine. Ikharos formed the surplus Void into a broiling mass in his palm, enhancing it with a Chaos Accelerant offered to him by the calm of the nullscape. His fears were quashed and intentions honed to a razor-sharp edge. He tossed it - and the Broodqueen half-blinded by pain was caught in the inescapable gravities and ravenous matter decay of the vortex grenade. She painfully pulled herself out of the vortex's grasp and collapsed by the cavern wall.
Ikharos walked forwards, intending on finishing her off. Her brother, the Adherent, stepped in front of him with his sword raised in the air and pointed.
"What have you done to my King?" he rasped. Not a moment later he struck forward, lunging at Ikharos with as much speed as a hungry Thrall. Ikharos parried, but before he could mount a counterattack the Adherent pounced out of reach.
"Killed Him," Ikharos panted. The air was too thin and he was starting to tire.
The Adherent cocked his head to the side. "You slew my King?" He feinted a wide slash and thrust forth. Ikharos slapped the ugly blade aside, caught it on Néhvaët's crescent guard before it could cut into his side, and lashed at the Hive's face with the barbed chains still alight with Solar. He managed to land a solid welt before the Adherent disengaged with an agonized hiss.
Ikharos went after him. The rapier went for his head. He ducked, cast out the chain, and flicked his wrist so that it came back around the Adherent's blade and held it in place. He then darted in closer, crunched an elbow into the Hive creature's face, and dug in with his own longsword. The Adherent's chitin cuirass cracked and groaned, and he struggled to get some distance between them - only succeeding after Ikharos had heard the satisfying squelch of blade meeting flesh.
The Adherent collapsed, coughing blood. Ikharos kicked the chain-wrapped rapier away and angled Néhvaët at the alien's throat. "What do you care about Oryx?"
"I..." The Adherent coughed wetly. "I am Cheirrlok-"
"I didn't ask for your name."
"I served with the King's Blood as a learner of philosophy and language."
Never underestimate a scribe. Ikharos pressed the sword tip closer. "You're awfully talkative."
"Only with those who bear the blood of Osmium."
Ikharos scowled and, in one quick motion, beheaded the Adherent. Its remains burned away as crackling soulfire. Which left none but the Broodqueen. He looked at the keening creature, scarcely capable of keeping herself aloft. Her body was false, shadow as opposed to true flesh, and it was depleted. It had been a neat little trick, separating her soul from her body, but it wasn't to last. Not if she was so intent on facing him.
The sounds of claws on stone reached him. A mob of Thrall were racing down one of the adjacent tunnels. Ikharos raised a hand towards the dark corridor and loosed. Arc roared from his palm, snapping through the air and disintegrating every Hive-morph it reached.
"You shouldn't have brought me here," Ikharos whispered. The Broodqueen's five eyes darted to him, full of searing hatred. "You have no idea what I am. You're just digging your own graves."
"Skyborn coward," she seethed.
"This coward's going to hunt you all to extinction. And, Light willing, I'll even be there to see your kind eradicated from this universe entirely."
She pointed a shaking claw at him. "You... are dishonest."
Ikharos raised an eyebrow. "Oh no," he drawled sarcastically. "How awful."
"You are-"
He jetted forth on plumes of Solar and ran Néhvaët right through her phantom skull. The Broodqueen jerked and twitched, limbs going limp. Ikharos held in place until her body dissolved entirely, just to be sure she died for good.
A dull roar rebounded through the corridors. It was distant, but it was there.
"We gotta move," Xiān urged.
Ikharos moved.
Any and all attempts at remaining hidden ceased to be. The Broodqueen's ill-conceived gambit had failed, so as far as the rest of the shared brood was concerned it was open season - on him. Ikharos found himself faced with resistance almost every step of the way. The Darkblade had left with a massive force, sure, but there was still a heavy Hive presence left within the nest - those who were still raising new generations of killers and cultists; Knights with notions of independence, Acolytes who thought they could gorge themselves on the undefended newborns, and Wizards owing loyalty solely to a then-dead queen.
They all came for Light. It was irresistible to them. In response, Ikharos killed them all. He walked with a perpetual sheen of violet, loosing gouts of black-indigo flames whenever he spotted movement in the dark subterranean. Where the tunnels twisted and curled around one another, he forcibly opened shortcuts between them, cutting through rock and earth with Void . He followed them up, up, up, right to the carrier. There were more Hive there, what with the Knights present having rallied others together to kill him once and for all.
Ikharos, tired of the fighting, called on his Solar and spread out scarlet wings. He burned those closest to him, but otherwise ignored the rest and soared out over their heads to the gaping wound in the carrier's side. A few Thrall skittered here and there, looking for something, anything, to eat. The moment they caught his scent they came for him. Ikharos allowed the blind creatures to pounce on his wings, only to burn up before they could even reach him. It was mildly satisfying.
Finally, he stepped outside into the brisk air of the Spine and, for a second time, took flight. It didn't last long; his Solar couldn't keep up with his demands being so far from the Traveler, but at least it gave him some distance. He landed by the banks of a small stream, checked his radar, and told Xiān, "Call them."
"Signal sent. If they're around to pick it up, they'll hear it loud and clear."
Ikharos sat down by the water's edge and removed his helmet. He sucked in the clean air and laid down against the bank. The reeds tickled the back of his neck. Its touch was soft, considerate, gentle. Nothing like the place he'd just left.
Nothing like the place the Darkblade had left.
"They've got an army," Ikharos murmured. He closed his eyes, exulting in the feeling of standing on the precipice of sleep. He couldn't, though. Not for a while yet. "An army hatched for one purpose: for war."
"This is bad."
"Very. They're changing the board. Changing how we fight them."
"We crippled them, though. With the Broodqueen dead, everyone left in the nest is going to rip each other to shreds for her position."
"Darkblade's still in place. Broodqueen was going to give rise to too many Thrall to fight, but he's on the path to lead the Knights and Ogres to a feast."
"Where, though? They had to have a place in mind."
"Where do you think?" Ikharos shifted. "He wants to surpass Oryx in the eyes of the Worm. How do you think he'll go about doing that?"
"... Nezarec."
"Yep. Now there's a sacrifice worthy of Yul's attention."
"We have to get involved. We have to- you're not alone."
Ikharos sat up. There were pink lights in the treeline opposite him, across the stream. Two eyes and a glowing mouth. The Exo stepped out with its rifle aimed right at his head and marched to the water's edge. Ikharos pulled his knees to his chest and deeply breathed in and out - and he Blinked beside the Exo, tore the rifle out of its grip, and kicked out its knees in a single savage motion. The transhuman let out a surprised yelp and pained hiss full of static as it fell.
As he fell. It was a person, with gender and identity and personality.
Ikharos turned the rifle around and aimed it at the robot's head. The Exo froze and, slowly, held out his empty hands. "You survived," he said with some surprise.
Survived the Hive, Ikharos gathered. "Seems so."
There was a long pause. "Are you going to kill me?"
"Were you?"
Another pause. "Yes," the Exo said.
"Why? Because the Harmony told you to?"
"Because you killed my friends."
"Your friends attacked first."
"I don't care."
Ikharos grimaced, heaving a sigh. "Neither do I." He pulled the trigger. The Exo's head snapped back. His body shuddered and went limp. Ikharos looked up; there were other pink lights in the forest. Glaring. At him. Ikharos tossed the pulse rifle aside, gathered in the Void and activated his focused Nova Warp just as the other transhumans opened fire.
He stumbled and retched; there was a hole in his chest, right beside his heart. Good shot, that. Not that he expected any less from military-grade Exos. Xiān briefly flashed out, doused him in warm Light, and then summarily disappeared. It was all very efficient - the sign of a Ghost who knew what she was doing.
"I ever tell you you're the best?" Ikharos said. He wiped his mouth with the back of his glove. It came away sticky and red.
"Sure, but you can keep saying it."
"Best Ghost."
"Aw. Javek's calling back."
"Put him through." Ikharos donned his helmet. "Javek?" he rasped. He was thirsty. And hungry. And tired. "Javek, come in!"
The inbuilt speakers fizzled. Then, "-kha Riis! Where are you?!"
"On the move. What about you? Anyone hurt?"
"Nama, we are fine. The Hive lost all courage after..."
"Yeah, after the Witch caught me." Ikharos coughed again. He hated the taste of blood. It was something awful. "She tried to drag me back to her brood. These tossers don't know how to work around Lightbearers..."
"Are you well?! You sound hurt!"
"I'll survive. Can't stick around. Killed the Broodqueen - again. Here's hoping she stays down this time. Bunch of Exos around, though. Tried to kill me. Lay low, understand? There's bound to be more of them about. Keep quiet on comms too. Don't know if they can track our signals at this range. Best not take any chances."
"I understand. Where-"
"The old place."
"Ah. We will meet- Melkis, away! Nama, back! Kirzen, be safe." The speakers went silent.
Ikharos started walking.
He made it back to the first place they'd set camp in the Spine since the Hive-hunt had started with time to spare. Melkris ambushed him by the edge of the camp, shouting and chirping with relief and incessantly pulling at Ikharos's sleeve to hurry him up. Everyone else was there - Kida, Narí, Raksil, Beraskes - and they all looked to be in good health. A couple of scratches on their armour, but beyond that perfectly fine.
"Ikharos!" Narí exclaimed. "You're-"
Beraskes approached, embedded her swords into the ground, knelt down, and held out one of her secondary arms. "I failed to consider Hive trickery," she said, voice thick with shame. "I offer mine-arms as compensation for mine-lapse in judgement, mine-Captain."
Ikharos took a surprised step back. "I'm not your Captain."
"You are acting-commander."
"I'm not docking you." Ikharos took her shoulder and stood her up. "I can't and won't."
She gave him a look of bewilderment. "But I-"
"I should have spotted it more easily than you. The trap was Dark, and I should've known better than to expect an easy job of this. The fault is mine. Besides," he shrugged, "no harm done." The sight of dead humans - travelers probably - flew through his mind. "To me, anyways," he amended, more quietly.
Raksil wandered over. "You look harmed, Kirzen."
Ikharos glanced down at himself. "My armour's in a state, sure, but I'm in one piece. That's all that really matters." He looked up. "Javek? What happened?"
The Splicer glanced up and performed a miurlis salute. He was crouched over one of the Shanks, fiddling with the wiring of its communications node. "Hive slew stray humans. The Witch took a form like theirs."
"Yeah, I figured." The reminder dampened his mood. More dead civilians, Ikharos thought with a grimace. "I mean... have you noticed any recent Hive activity around these parts?"
"Uh, nama?"
"This place is a headland. Unless they're planning to cross the fjord at the deepest part, then they can only head north or south..."
"Kirzen?"
"Broodqueen's dead. Same for one of her brothers - I think, but some these morons are more resourceful than they look, so..." Ikharos took a breath. "Hive are on the march. The Darkblade rides to war. The Erechaani ride with him. Call Tarrhis. Call him now."
"Tarrhis?"
"Kirzen! I heard you were taken!"
"Yeah, sure, killed those responsible. Look, there's no time; the Hive are moving."
"Repeat."
"Invoctol? The hell are- nevermind. Broodqueen's dead, nest is in chaos, but Kirrnaka-Hul and his abomination of a brother are leading an army. The Erechaani are with them, and they've... they've taken Worms."
"Impossible."
"Oh, we got a good look at it. Sending recordings now."
"Received... What are they- By Acrius's gleam. Those barbarians!"
"Ikharos?"
"Formora, hey."
"What happened? Are you alright?"
"I'm fine and the Hive are moving."
"Where?"
"North. They're going north."
"What's- Oh. Albazad."
"Albazad? What is this place? Shu'av! Fetch me a human map!"
"It won't be there. Too far and too well hidden. It's a Harmony fortress, somewhere north. That's all we really know - but my money's on the Hive having used their magic to divine its location. They know the Dark better than anyone, and that place should be saturated in the stuff."
"Let them slay each other."
"You're a Psion, right? More brain than brawn, supposedly. Just think about this: these two peoples employ Sword Logic. They grow on murder. What do you think will happen when Hive or Harmony kill each other?"
"... They will grow."
"A Hive victory will kill us all, but a Harmony win will keep us here to the end of our days. They're going to eat each other and hand up whatever's left to their god. Worm or Nezarec, it doesn't matter - both stand to eradicate us."
"What of the nest?"
"What of it?"
"What is its state?"
"Utter fucking chaos."
"Good. My soldiers will strike immediately. We'll burn the Hive out and reclaim what is rightfully ours."
"Invoctol, don't-"
"He's gone. Ikharos? What do we-"
"I gotta get in there."
"Kirzen, we cannot go near the Cabal ship. It is one of the terms the Primus laid out."
"I'm not one of your warriors, Tarrhis." Ikharos disconnected. He turned to the wide-eyed Eliksni behind him. "Stay here. Narí?"
"Yes?"
"Stay."
"Where are you going?" The elf pressed.
Ikharos plucked up Néhvaët. "To make the most of a bad situation. Keep quiet and keep hidden; I'll probably be another few hours."
"Kirzen-" Beraskes began, but Ikharos cut her off.
"No. Stay. You heard your Baron."
"I swore to-"
"Obey my orders, right? I'm telling you to stay. No backchat." He double-checked that his Lumina was loaded and his knife was on his person. "Wish me luck."
"You're in no state to fight."
Ikharos hardly slowed. He had his bow fitted and drawn. If the Exos made a reappearance, he was going to be ready for them. "Well, isn't that unfortunate. It looks like I'm already en route, so... might as well try."
"What's wrong with you?!" Xiān crossly demanded.
Ikharos frowned. "Is something the matter?"
"Pride? Is that it?"
"What the hell are you on about?"
"We've thrown our punches already. We're done."
"We're never done."
"Why not?"
"Because a little Ghost rezzed me a few centuries back to fight a xenocidal war between living, breathing philosophical concepts." He relented. "I'm not going to take risks; just prowl around the battle and bruise the Hive if they try something sneaky."
"You're playing with fire. What if the Harmony get involved? There's Exos in these woods!"
"Then I'll kill them too."
"So... what? Cabal are the lesser evil? Now you pull back from the line, afraid to cross?"
"Can you tell me with a straight face that they aren't?"
Xiān shivered. "It'll be me pulling you out of the ditch if this goes wrong. Last time we fought a battle here you almost didn't make it."
"I'll be more careful," Ikharos promised. "I know what to expect now. They won't be taking us by surprise."
He retraced his steps. Ikharos kept a close eye on his radar, but it didn't ping red even once. Either the Exos had cleared out or they were simply out of range. He reckoned it was the latter; no way they just fled. Not with Nezarec's words in their heads.
A dull, distant roar and the tingling sensation of roaming electromagnetic tracers passed over him. Ikharos slid to a stop and looked up; Threshers and Harvesters were slinging themselves across the darkening sky. Their paint was scratched and worn, but their fury was palpable. The Cabal had come looking for vengeance.
And judging by the rumbling hiss from a hundred different throats ahead, the Hive were ready to meet it. A small horde was already in the midst lurching out of the carrier's belly, possibly having been baited outside by what residual Light had been left in Ikharos's wake. A quick glance told him that beyond a couple of Knights, a pair of shrieking Wizards, and one unchained Ogre there weren't all that many major Hive morphs present. The Darkblade had drafted the cream of the crop into his army and left behind a garrison of the unworthy.
000
"Hot drop in five," Shu'av grunted. His soldiers - veterans all - shuffled and unlocked the safeties on their slug rifles. "Four... three..."
There was a metallic pounding emanating from below - from the dropship's primary cannon firing on enemy positions. Each shot was slow and lazy, and culminated in a satisfying bang. He could almost hear the screams of Hive being crushed under the barrage.
"Two..."
The doors clanked and shuddered.
"One."
The doors opened. Shu'av tossed himself out of the Harvester's belly. Gravity caught him and dragged him down. His personal Arc shield took the brunt of the impact. His soldiers slowed their falls with brief bursts of their propulsion-packs. Fresh craters pockmarked the ground, but the Hive still surged. They were a wave of emancipated bodies and chattering jaws. Shu'av whirred up his slug-thrower and pulled the trigger. His rotary cannon spat death. The other troop-carriers touched down and unloaded their cargo. Legionaries formed firing lines. Centurions barked orders. The ranks Phalanx jammed their shields into the ground and braced as the flood of Thrall hit them. Bones cracked and skulls crunched. The Hive didn't let up. They didn't know how to.
Threshers soared overhead and strafed over the battlefield that had once upon a time been their old war-camp. The ground was painted afresh with new blood - though this time instead of the black of Uluru it was the green of Hive. Three Goliaths slammed down behind them. Almost immediately they began pounding the Hive position. Dirt, fire, and body parts careened through the air.
It was glorious.
"This is how I want to live," Shu'av told his Psion Optus. He had to shout to be heard above the din of war. "Every day of my life."
The Operant nodded and refocused on her datapad. The BattleNet came to life on the screen as roving lines of spiking data. "They're going to charge."
"Are they?" Shu'av watched as a pair of Knights rallied their children around them. One of them was torn apart by slugs before it could do much of anything, but the other made it to the Phalanx line and sank its cleaver into a shield. The Phalanx soldier wielding the mobile barricade flinched and stumbled back - letting the Hive seep through. A trio of Thrall pounced the soldier and ripped out his throat.
Shu'av groaned and activated his suit's missile pods. The explosives shot out from tubes behind his back and hit the rushing ranks of Hive. The Knight lurched as a missile took out one of its legs. Shu'av stomped forward and crushed the gargling warrior-morph's head beneath his boot. He used his Arc shield to fill in the gap and resumed firing. His Optus trailed after him, relaying all relevant news seeping through the Net.
Eventually, the Hive horde thinned out. Shu'av called an advance. He and the line of Phalanx lumbered forth, stamping down on what few morphs still struggled despite their mortal wounds. There was no mercy to be had. No quarter to be given. It was vengeance, righteous and pure.
Then the carrier's hull burst open as three, no four, five, six Ogres climbed out and groaned terribly. Their heads were bulged with rotten sickness and their claws were made to rend flesh from bone.
"Shields up!" Shu'av roared. The Void blasts from all six abominations hit them hard. He heard screams from down the line. "Call a thunder-run!"
The strafing Threshers above purred with delight. They swerved away, far, and raced back with cannons primed, missiles locked, and bombs ready to be dropped. They hit the Hive for all they were worth - and in the middle of it all, Shu'av roared wordlessly and charged. His retinue of soldiers followed him as a stampede of steel-capped sabatons and flashing rifles. Wrist-blades engaged and slashed, fists were thrown, guns were fired; they made of themselves the tusks of their offensive and stabbed deep into the flesh of the Hive mob.
Some of the Ogres had died, but a couple still stood, still fought on. Shu'av ran for the closest one, tossing Thrall and Acolytes out of his way. The giant beast noticed him, but not until he'd cracked an armoured fist across its jaw and pushed the barrel of his slug-thrower up underneath its chin. He fired. Brain, bone, and dark pus splattered all over him.
It stank.
It was wonderful.
They made it inside, covered in viscera and soot. The thunder-run had been a resounding success. Shu'av couldn't wait to regale his friends in Torobatl of the glory he had d reaped on this far-flung frontier world - but the battle was far from over.
He had a nest to burn out and a prize to reclaim
The hanger was a wreck. Many of the war machines within - Goliaths, Interceptors, Threshers, and Harvesters - were never going to see action again, but they weren't his focus. No. Shu'av looked for one thing in particular, and the moment he caught sight of her wide nose peeking out of the darkness on the other side of the gargantuan chamber, he knew everything was going to be alright. She still stood. Even covered in Hive gunk she was a beauty, a masterpiece of Uluru craftsmanship; colossal, weighty, and thick-hulled. She was everything to him and his brothers and sisters. Their home might have been lost, but they had an island to remember it by. Shu'av pointed at her with a heavy fist and bellowed, "Secure the Amarz Amalz! For the Primus! For the Empire!"
His soldiers echoed his call with a raucous cheer.
The Hive took it as a challenge. From all around the dark hanger hungry monsters crawled into the light, into their sightlines. Many were put down, but there was always another waiting just behind. Always another Thrall, always another Acolyte, always more Knights. The latter came in force. Boomer-wielding warriors fired down at them from alcoves above while their sword-bearing brothers closed in on Uluru ranks. Shu'av crushed the first cleaver-Knight to approach and laid down suppressing fire on those taking the role of artillery units. He cut down two more warrior-morphs, but a third raised a Wall of Darkness. The black floating shell-like material ate up the slug rounds and spat them out as shrapnel.
Another two sword-wielders came for him. He caught the strike of the first one on a pauldron and parried the second with his slug-thrower. Shu'av bit out a curse; he could see the Boomer-Knight peeking around its barricade and taking aim - taking aim at him. He hadn't the time to-
The Knight was forcibly pulled back, then fell out of cover in three separate paces. The Wall of Darkness moved, somehow, like a force was acting on it. It clattered down against the slope formed of dead chitin and started sliding. The Knight's killer lunged onto it and rode it down, firing a single-handed gun as it went. As it reached the bottom, the Psion-sized warrior jumped and rolled off, but the barricade kept going, flinging up and embedding in the spine of one of the Knights assaulting Shu'av. The small humanoid then moved, somehow - teleported - right by the second Knight and reached into its chest with a hand covered in bright purple energy. It pulled out the Hive-morph's very life, leaving nothing but bone and shell. It glanced up at Shu'av with a familiar silver helmet.
"Merida-X8," Shu'av grunted. He leveled his cannon with the human's head. "What are you doing here?"
The human, though, merely groaned with exaggerated exasperation. "I'm beginning to believe Uluru stupidity is contagious. Does Invoctol seriously think," he lazily raised his free hand in the other direction - where a new wave of Hive was rapidly approaching - and unleashed a river of potent flames out of thin air, "that this is a good idea? We could spend weeks here and never be rid of them!"
The Hive popped and burst under the intense heat. Not even an Incendior's magma launcher had that much reach.
Shu'av narrowed his eyes. "The Primus is wise-"
"I bloody told him! I told him that this place was dealt with! I said 'utter fucking chaos'! How clear do I have to make myself?!"
A Knight disengaged from the Phalanx nearby and went straight for the human. Its fixation was... irrational. It slashed - and the human ducked under the strike, delivering a twofold slice with a starry sword that both disarmed the warrior-morph and opened up its belly. Entrails - and a little wriggling Worm - fell out. The human stomped on the parasite and cut the Knight's throat just to put it out of its misery.
"Chaos! I said chaos!" The human turned back around to face Shu'av. His Ulurant was, admittedly, very good. "These guys were going to do our jobs for us, but no! You lot just had to make things difficult. Do I have to babysit you all the time?! First the Harmony, now this!" A Wizard flew towards the human, a scream building up in her jaws. The human twirled around and shouted, "JIERDA!"
The Hive sorceress shattered into a thousand little pieces. The human took a step back, head lowered with sudden exhaustion, but he rallied his strength and assumed his battle-stance quickly enough. "Well?!"
"Well what?!" Shu'av barked back, not a little bemused.
"The Darkblade's moving with his Traveler-forsaken army, and here you all are playing pest-control! I had this under wraps, but you morons... ARGH!" The human jumped into the air, gathered in a massive orb of Void, and tossed it down one of the tunnels from whence the swarming Hive came. The result was far from pretty. "Bloody hell! We've got bigger worries right now! Tell your Primus-"
"We only came to reclaim what is ours!" Shu'av snapped back. An Acolyte with a Shredder was bearing down on him. He swung his cannon around and clipped it hard on the head, then opened fire on the Thrall pack behind it. He kicked the Acolyte for good measure, crushing its chest and organs - and hopefully the parasite within.
"The carrier will take forever to flush out!" The human moved like a wraith, weaving between targets with a methodical sort of grace. His gun had been fully swapped out for the glittering dusk-bladed sword, and he used it to devastating effect.
Shu'av growled; he was stretched between grimly amused and deeply insulted. He was a Valus, after all. The human had no right to speak to him so openly, so rudely, particularly where his bond-brother was concerned. "It is not the carrier we seek!"
"What the hell could you be-?!" The human glanced around. His sight finally found the Amarz Amalz. "Oh. Oh! Traveler above!"
Amusement won out. "She's gorgeous, isn't she?!" He slammed his metal-plated head against the face of a snarling Knight. The warrior-morph's skull caved in with a gratifying crunch.
"Fine!" The human - wasn't his real name Ijoras, or something along those lines? - splayed out the fingers of his free hand and annihilated five hungry Thrall with a brief flash of shining Arc. "Get the bloody thing and clear out! I had these guys right where I wanted them, and you... Agh, just move!"
The amusement didn't last. Shu'av snarled, but he couldn't do much else other than comply. Primus's orders, after all. But then Merida-X8 killed another Knight and took its cleaver, wielding it alongside his own longsword. He shouted at the Hive, challenging them in his own human language.
Something other than amusement began to surface.
"Sir!" His ever-dutiful Optus yelled, hiding behind his bulk.
Shu'av shook his head and refocused on the task at hand. Damn human had him all confused. "Warriors of the Empire! With me!"
000
The Hive were bold. Or maybe they were just acting more recklessly than usual with no one left to clip their wings. Ikharos didn't particularly care; he just went with the flow. The Cabal were putting up an admirable effort, what with Phalanx covering their flanks and Incendiors at the forefront of their offensive. The latter were more effective than the rank-and-file, and their courage was inspirational, but their impact? Not quite what Ikharos wanted, so he tapped into his Solar and subtly guided the ebb and flow of their flames. It worked better than he imagined, cutting the Hive counterattack into more easily-managed gangs rather than a full-on horde. And if a Psion picked up on it, so what? It wasn't like it was harming anyone.
Anyone that counted, in any case.
A shrieking Boomer round almost took his head. Ikharos vaulted out of the way - Traveler above, he'd spent far too much time with Hunters, hadn't he - and retaliated with a tiny lightning bolt. The over-armoured Acolyte spasmed and dropped. He lobbed a Voidwall grenade after it. Purple flames sprouted up and cut a swathe through the press of Hive bodies.
The Cabal weren't sure what to make of him - same as him, really. Some took potshots when his back was turned - the gits - but it was relatively easy to avoid. Ikharos just moved so there was always a wall of Hive bodies in between him and the Uluru strike force. The place was saturated in Dark and all the hungry monsters hungered for his Light, but without a Broodqueen or Darkblade to worry about Ikharos found he could manage his fights well enough. Thrall wanted to pounce, Acolytes wanted to shoot, Knights wanted to slice him up, and Wizards wanted to run him through with sharpened spells - all very predictable.
His Solar ran out, though. It was Void from there on out. Not that he much minded; the Void was second nature to him. It was one of the few constants in his life he knew he could count on. Ikharos drenched himself in it, becoming the anchor for its influence on the world around him. Slithering currents of Void needled through the closest Hive and hollowed them out. Tears in reality popped here and there, collapsing gravity and matter-cohesion everywhere they struck. Ikharos wove it around him with Néhvaët. It was less a blade in his hands and more of a wand - allowing him to direct the gluttonous force as a conductor would an orchestra.
Not that it being sharp enough to slice a Knight open from throat to groin wasn't useful, because it very much was.
"They've got their tank."
Ikharos glanced over, but an Ogre was in the way. He tossed a Nova Bomb just to clear the way. Glaringly bright searchlights burned to life across the giant war machine's front. It was colossal. Daunting. Powerful. "So they do."
"Yeah, they've got this in the bag."
"Then we're done here."
"Thank goodness. I can hardly breathe in here."
"You don't breathe anyways."
"Oh, you know what I mean."
Ikharos exhaled heavily. He was exhausted. A Knight powered through his Void maelstrom with a sword raised high. He lanced a spike of violet energy through its centre, then pulled the energy back - and all the rest. The Void flowed back into him, gathering into a bright singularity within his hands. Ikharos molded it into a Warp and left the carrier entirely.
He never wanted to see the inside of the Hive nest again for the rest of his life.
Ikharos wandered back into camp with heavy eyelids threatening to cut off his vision and sentence him to dreamland. He needed to sleep, but- no. No. He couldn't. Still so much to do.
"What now?" Javek asked.
Ikharos gratefully accepted an offered canteen of water from Narí. He drank deeply. "Thanks." He sighed. "Now? We need to get eyes on the Darkblade's force, or... at least get a confirmation on their heading. It won't do if we miss them turning right around and heading into the Broddring Empire - or worse, Du Weldenvarden."
"Cloaked Skiffs can track."
"That they can. I guess I need to have a chat with Tarrhis, requisition a ship for myself. But we..." Ikharos grimaced. "They're going to attack the Harmony in force, with all they have. And the Harmony are going to fight back, just as hard. If we can't cut the Hive off, then... well, we have to."
Raksil shuffled over. "Kirzen. What of the Cabal?"
"What about them?"
"Did they attack the Hive?"
"They did. Still are."
"Why-"
"I had to make sure it wasn't a suicide run. They'll... well, they're not going to be fine, but it doesn't look like they're going to stick around too long."
"Then why would they make the effort?" Beraskes questioned. "To send a message?"
"I think they just wanted to grab their Imperial Land Tank. I couldn't stop them - nor was I going to try. Hive take priority."
"Land Tank?" Raksil groaned. "They have a fortress to fight from. We cannot take on a Land Tank as we are, Kirzen."
"Good thing your father's negotiating with them."
Raksil sat down heavily. "Eia, but now they have a strong position to negotiate from."
"You have magic. I'd say you're on equal footing." Ikharos turned back to Javek. "Call your people. We need to organize a plan of action."
Javek dipped his head and quickly moved over to his Shank-communicator. After a minute he announced, "Nyreks will fly to us and-"
"No."
"Kirzen?"
"Can't go back yet." Ikharos jutted a thumb over his shoulder. "Still gotta make sure this goes how I expect it to." He paused. "Actually... Raksil. You should probably head back."
"Kirzen?" Raksil looked affronted by the notion. "I am no coward. I will not run."
"This isn't about running, it's... Look, I'm doing clean-up. With the Broodqueen out of commission there's going to be a power vacuum. Cabal riling them up doesn't help me any..." He took a breath. His heart was hammering and his nerves were alight. He could barely think - but there was still so much to do. Still a Hive cult leader to kill and an alien plan to foil. "No, you and Narí head back. You've both seen what things are like out here. Go tell your peoples. Get them on board. We gotta kill that Darkblade, and quick."
AN: Thanks to Nomad Blue for the editz!
Finally got through Master Presage. Scorn don't need champions; they're scary enough as is. I don't think I ever crutched so much on Hard Light as I did there.