Platis V, Bhein Morr Subsector, 14:32
Two broken lengths of cord dangled from Izuru's hands. The twin identity disks she gazed upon, detailed, among other pointless information, the human's insignificant name.
How? Saeros crouched near the river's edge next to Izuru, water brushing the toes of his boots.
He fell. Izuru dropped the disks in to the water and left the body lying face-down. Launching herself up the slope in bounds, Izuru passed herself from branch to branch, springing up on to a rocky shelf and side-stepping along the lip. A breathless Saeros struggled after her.
What do your corsair eyes see? Izuru called to Derin.
The felarch, his long rifle pointed skywards, swept the faraway plain with a rangefinder. The humans placed the river beneath their feet and struck westwards.
Their trail dried out on the riverbank. Izuru took the monocular and glassed the plain. Nothing. If we keep to the hillside, we may descend upon them.
Well then. Lead on, Nightspear.
Nightspear? Izuru frowned, pausing in her descent to turn back towards the felarch.
Was the Nightspear not an outcast of the Craftworld Alaitoc, my lady? Derin stepped down towards her, Saeros following.
Ilic Nightspear was friend and battle-companion to my father, Amonther Numerial.
Your father?
Ilic is also the namesake of my son. My firstborn by but a few heartbeats.
And the other?
Izuru vaulted over a dead bough, opening the gap between the felarch and herself. The persistent drumming of her heart set her rhythm. Always the river was further down the valley on her right, and the open fields ahead of her. Sure as the humans believed they had eluded their pursuers, Izuru knew it was only a tiny intermission in this act of her unfolding song. Soon, worthless prey. Soon.
The shadows lengthen, Derin spoke after a long spell of fruitless tracking.
The afternoon has yet to mature, Felarch.
Would the princess really depart without us? Saeros, empty-handed, trailed the felarch and the ranger.
Her eminence will do as she pleases. It is not your place to question her, young corsair.
I would not be known as Nightspear please, Felarch. Rangers we both are, but I whither in his shadow and pale in the light of his glory.
I apologise, Lady Numerial. I have yet to observe a Pathfinder in action.
Izuru bit down on the inside of her cheek. Then you have come for naught. Once more, Izuru strayed ahead, opening her mind to the forest, letting the storm overrun her mental perimeter. Where are you, whelp? Izuru summoned the image of the young human looking up at her, defying her, spitting at her. How defiant will you be when I remove your fingernails one by one?
A whisper of wind lifted up the edge of Izuru's hood. Freezing on the spot, she lowered herself to her knees, unslinging her long rifle. There. Faint human-sized shapes hoved through the trees in the far distance. Only through her rifle's optics did she make out the general shape of the humans. See how the humans arrange themselves in single file.
I see. Derin shouldered his long rifle. Let us end their wayward flight.
There is too much cover for the humans to disperse in. We must wait for the right moment. Once they are on the plains we shall strike in unison.
A simple charge from here would not suffice?
That is not the ranger way, Felarch. The humans are unarmed. Yet together they can still pose a dire threat if we stray within their reach. Do not underestimate mob tactics and the desperation of cornered rats. I will have my kills clean.
Her pulse fluttering, Izuru stalked her quarry, keeping one eye on the humans, one on the path ahead. Hold. Izuru stopped. The human's movement ceased.
They've heard us. Saeros slipped behind a tree.
Impossible. Derin clasped Saeros's shoulder and pulled him out. The humans are loud, clumsy, round-eared swine.
No, I hear. Izuru raised a finger, closing her eyes. I hear… She tossed her long rifle to Derin and lay prostrate. With her cheek gathering dirt, Izuru listened to the earth. Tell me your secrets.
The humans turn north-west, my lady, Saeros chimed in.
Shackle your mind, Saeros. You intrude. Derin shot a glare at him.
Be still, my heart. Izuru sealed off the outside disturbances, easing her jumpy heartbeat. A faint rumble, like an earthquake, unsettled the ground beneath her. Does war have yet another world in its iron grip? Izuru listened. Artillery? No, it cannot be, for it is too constant; without pause or relent. What are you? No, you lie to me. Give me the truth! The corsairs, present though in body, were far-off insects, creeping across a void so wide and deep, they became lost in its vast depths. Still Izuru listened. The industrial plague of the Imperium rears its bloated, swollen head, carrying itself on grinding, clanking tracks of the blackest steel. Corsairs, human armour approaches!
Armour? Derin fumbled with his long rifle. Tanks? Walkers?
The disturbance is ever-present, as if a wave rolls up on us. No walker carries itself so. Steel tracks and armoured skirts guided by cruel hands make themselves known with the subtlety of the hammer on the anvil. Izuru pushed herself up with one hand, taking her long rifle with the other. After the humans.
Caution, Ranger, we invite greater danger upon ourselves, the further we stray from our people.
Your people, not mine, Felarch. Izuru pulled herself up in to the lower, thicker branches and sailed through the trees.
We are not equipped to fight a war with the Imperium of Man. We are commerce raiders. Derin took to the trees also.
Humbly spoken, for a pirate. I can think of three-and-a-half thousand reasons why you are wrong.
Our commanders would fight on their own terms. We pick our fights, that is the corsair way.
Through the treetops, the three hunters passed, leaping from branch to branch. Where Izuru gained a lead over the heavier-footed corsairs, she shimmied out along a branch and trained her sights on the humans. Have they heard it yet?
The crack of a dead branch preceded a rush of a body falling through boughs. Saeros! Derin swung down from the branch he balanced on, thumping in to a pile leaves the youth lay partly submerged in.
The trees wither from here on. Izuru flexed a nearby branch. We are close to the forest's edge.
Out with you. Derin picked Saeros out from the leaves and brushed him down. Body remains intact, young warrior? Saeros spat out leaves in response.
With haste, corsairs, the forest borders are near. Izuru's boots touched the floor, propelling her onwards. From the thinning trees, strange shelves had been cut in the landscape, forming a giant set of steps leading down in to the valley, each one filled with water. Irrigation? Izuru stuck her foot in to the closest pool, the muddy water rising to her ankles. Khaine! Far below the terraces, another swell of forest stretched away, only then did the plains begin. Observe. Beyond the trees, a roadway. The foe patrols.
A moment, my lady. Derin set Saeros down. Saeros sprained his ankle in the fall.
Leave the youth. Observe with me. Izuru tracked her rifle across the dense greenery.
The prey eludes us once more. Derin surveyed the valley floor. This venture will yield little profit for us. Come, let us all return to the princess.
And let the humans warn the nearest Imperial outpost of our whereabouts? Izuru pressed a finger against her ear. Listen. Do you not hear what I hear?
Planting his riflebutt in the ground, Derin's brow furrowed. Yes, I hear as you hear, my lady. I advise you turn back. A half dozen ragged skeletons, spinning wild tales of murderous xenos in the hills will provoke laughter and derision from their fellow humans.
And the princess. Will it be the both of us lying to her face about how we split the tallies between us? Or will it be I that weaves the lies? Izuru glowered at the felarch, her mouth a tight line.
My lady. Saeros shuffled up behind the pair. I follow you.
Settled. Derin slapped his thigh. You will bear arms, Saeros. Take this rifle.
Do not!
Enough, Ranger. Saeros, I order you to take up arms.
Felarch. Saeros bowed his head, taking the lengthy rifle.
Seething, Izuru vaulted down the terrace, kicking up water. Damn you, pirate. I need only one long rifle to see this through. Isha be praised. Reaching the base of the terrace in bounds, Izuru pelted through the damp undergrowth, dropping to one knee on the sight of far-off specks tearing across the open ground. My, little humans, your speed is commendable. Izuru counted six shapes. All present.
"Hold!" Derin ploughed through the soft ground, showing a flat hand to her. "Take heed. The enemy armour approaches."
Where? And do not speak aloud. Izuru snatched the rangefinder from Derin. Atop the roadway?
Aye, I caught sight of eight human vehicles. They will appear to us momentarily.
Irrelevant. The height of the roadway will prevent the humans hailing their allies. I say engage. Izuru brought her long rifle to bear and wrapped the sling around her forearm, drawing it tight.
Beware, this may invite unwanted attention. Derin growled.
Engage with me or begone. Izuru drew her sights across a human, picking out his lower back. A little shy of three-thousand yards. No trouble.
Izuru's finger curled through the curving guard, applying an ounce of pressure upon the firing stud. The prey were jumping up and down and waving at the armoured vehicles above them, rolling along without pause. Izuru's breath caught in her throat when a puff of black smoke burst out from the lead vehicle, a tracked carrier. The rolling thump of the shockwave came a second later. By Asuryan… Izuru stared at the bright bubble of fire encompassing the carrier. Exploding from the inside, the carrier's turret leapt a hundred feet in to the sky. Identical strikes, one after the other, hammered the other vehicles in the column, cooking off their ammunition storage, turning them inside out, or just plain obliterating the boxy bodies, and whoever was inside. Seventy feet below the road, the humans were lying prone.
Tell me the princess did not just engage our foe! Izuru raged. Felarch, tell me!
Derin shook his head, spreading his hands wide. It was the princess's will. Ask me not, for her eminence does not consult me upon her decisions first. Saeros, put that rifle down.
Take your blasted finger away from the trigger, whelp. Izuru smacked Saeros on the ankle.
"Aah!" Saeros's rifle dropped. I… I apologise, my lady.
Next time, I strike you damaged ankle.
Torture him no longer, Ranger. Derin brought his butt down in to the mud, hard. I will not have it.
This – this show of force from the princess will not intimidate me. If she believes I can be cowed by her power, she is quite, quite wrong.
Weakened from the pummelling lance strikes, the chunky supports holding the road up collapsed, bringing the burning convoy down with it, and obscuring the humans in a wave of grey dust. Tumbling over one another like toys, the hunks of burning steel formed a pyre. I hope the six humans find themselves entombed. Heat-vision. A fuzzy grey filter occupied the transparent lenses of the long rifle's optics. Brighter flickers showed the heat from the derelicts underneath the demolished road. The tiny flecks upon the grass were the human's footprints leading up to the pyre, seemingly no further. No bodies, no kills.
"Onwards."
Dust brought upon tears, dribbling from my stinging eyes. Hands underneath my armpits hauled me away from the blistering heat, lugging my dumb carcass.
"Phew. You okay there, little fella?" Davir tilted my chin up and patted my cheek. "Ah, you're grand, son. Sit there for a sec. I'll be back."
Hair standing on end, I twisted to see Skargo, Bulaven and others dragging themselves over. "Bull!"
His beard a crisp white, Bulaven spat between his knees and staggered towards me. "This… now this I wasn't expecting. You okay, James?"
"Yeah." I dragged my sleeve underneath my wet nose. "I… I dunno."
"You look peaky. Maybe it's the climate?"
"Uhh…" I snorted. "Skargo?"
"My ears!" Davir banged a hand against his head. "What the hell was that, uh?"
My five companions gathered around me, blinking in the searing heat, sweat gathering upon their brows. "Alright, D and Renko, take Larn and get to a safe distance, case one of these tracks goes up. Bull and Vidmir, gimme a hand in this track."
"Bull!"
"Don't, it could blow!" Davir pulled at me. "God, I miss Bastille."
"They know what they signed up for, you didn't." Renko shouted. "Simmer down, big man."
Bulaven, Skargo, and Vidmir tumbled out of the rear hatch of a Chimera, bringing clouds of smoke with them. Skargo tripped, landing on top of a wooden carbine slung across his chest. "Ow!"
Bulaven and Vidmir picked Skargo up by his armpits and brought him with them. "Come on, come on!"
"PDF might have these if their budget was worse than ours." Vidmir shook an automatic rifle with a folding strut stock at me. "Certainly looks like it!"
"Yeah, them stickies and the rest of the neighbourhood heard all that for sure." Davir plucked a carbine from Bulaven and swiped the chamber open. "Won't be shooting my load off any time soon. I'm dry."
"Your jacket's on fire!" Vidmir beat at the back of Bulaven's jacket. "Roll, man, roll!"
A whump from something exploding bowled me over, the shrill screams of the Vardans beating tattoos against my eardrums. "Get away. Get away." Skargo's urging voice prompted me to find my feet. Six coughing, spluttering ghosts stumbled out of the inferno. Bulaven's grating voice, I followed. "Wonder if a flaming Vardan wouldn't have worked to our advantage?" Bull slapped at the flicker of flame on his sleeve. "On me, James."
"Where's Skargo?" I screwed up my smarting eyes, rubbing at the tears on my cheeks. "Where's D?"
"S'alright, I'm here, Larn. I've got you." Skargo's steadying hand supported me. Once the air was devoid of any ticklish smoke, we flopped down, panting like hounds. "Ammo, take it." Bulaven passed out ten-round clips of steel-cased rifle cartridges. "D, Scholar, Vidmir, load up."
"Uhh, handy." Vidmir fiddled with the bolt of his rifle, locking it open and feeding the cartridges in. "Gimme two more clips."
"This thing is obsolete." Davir unfolded the bayonet attached to his carbine. "I hate bayonets too."
"Hey, we could have nothing at all," Renko said. "Blessed, ain't we?"
"Yur…" Davir shook his clip, shoving the rounds inside the magazine. "Is this bayonet stuck on?"
"You'll be obsolete in a minute when those stickies catch us." Vidmir cycled his bolt, the weapon giving a solid, comforting, cha-chink. "Feels good to have a piece to hand again. See how the stickies like hot Imperial lead."
"I want my Triplex back…"
"James." Bulaven passed me a bandolier. "Wear it."
"Where we humping to then, Scholar?" Renko pried the carbine out of Davir's hands. "It doesn't come off, ballbag."
"West." Skargo seated the bolt of his own carbine with the palm of his hand. "As far away from the stickies as possible. We stay off the roads too. Haven't got a clue what just rinsed those grunts back there."
"Have the stickies got sights on us?"
"On the ground or up in the sky, Larn?"
"Why didn't they waste us then?"
"I don't know, D." Skargo motioned us to move out. "Hurry, hurry."
Dark sweat stains spread under my armpits. The itchy warmth from the fires back at the collapsed highway stayed with me, smothering my body in a throttling blanket. How many are coming? Are they still coming? I thought of asking for one of the three weapons. Will that protect me at three or four-hundred yards though?
With fear churning up my stomach, I trod after Skargo, taking peeks behind us at the heap of concrete and burning vehicles, imagining stickies advancing from the flames; cloaked and hooded ghosts. The highway itself overlooked a sprawling industrial facility. All towers, interconnected with one another, warehouses, railway tracks, overhead cranes and gantries. At a chain link fence on the corner of the compound, Skargo halted and cupped his hands. "Go on, Larn, up you go." He pushed my foot upwards, boosting me over the top of the wire. "Catch. Mind the blade." His carbine followed next. The marriage of steel and wood I caught in both hands, drawing it back in to my chest. "Oof."
"Coming over." Bulaven, once Vidmir, Renko, and Davir gave him aid, got his leg over the fence. "Shit, it's going." Underneath his weight, the fence collapsed inwards, sending Bulaven toppling inside the compound.
"Bull?" I set Skargo's carbine down, patting Bulaven on his shoulder. "Bull, you okay?"
"I will be if you stop poking me." Bulaven grunted. "Who built that, uh?"
"Bone-headed techpriest or summat." Vidmir tested the bent section of fence with his foot. "Bull, catch my piece."
Skargo, Vidmir, Davir, and Renko scaled the damaged fence without a hiccup. It left only the forced point of entry behind us. "C'mon, push." Skargo's voice grated in my ear. "Push it back up."
"Aw, you ever tried to bend steel with your hands, Scholar?" Davir spat. "It's not working."
"Leave it, just leave it. Can't be arsed." Renko broke away, kicking at the dust-swept tracks.
"Alright, we're done here, boys. Vidmir, cover our arse. Bull, on point with me."
Something about a deserted manufactorum disturbed me. Where there should have been the noise and bustle of an active plant hanging over the industrial landscape, only silence occupied the buildings and streets we wandered through. Patches of chill wind blew spirals of blackened paper fragments at us, the singed, burnt smell tickling my nose and making me sneeze. "Ssh." Davir shot me a look. Screwing up my face, I shuffled my feet, sticking my hands in my pockets. The others were poking here and there at anything that looked remotely useable. Scattered buckets, a single tap with a rubber hose attached. Even a water butt that received rain from containers on top of the warehouse. "Crap." Skargo dropped the lid back on the butt. An evil, black muck had congealed at the bottom. Solid kicks upon doors on either side of the street yielded nothing. Each was shut tight, with the only windows many stories above ground level. Leaning across the thirty-foot gap between the warehouses, a skeletal pylon sat, forming a makeshift bridge. Severed cables, manmade vines with deadly tips, hung down to the ground, the ends swaying. I eyed nearby pools of water, stepping around them and ducking under the cables.
Vidmir squatted in front of a puddle and stared down at his reflection. "Ain't seen you in a while, scumbag. Shave and a whore's bath for you." Vidmir's fingers swirled the rainwater. "What d'you think, Scho—" The passing shriek of a lasbeam cut Vidmir off. Cracks bombarding my ears, I tore away from the swinging cables, my insides liquified. Sharp, single shots punched through the air, scything between us. A crackly punch and a body toppled over, a single grunt escaping a Vardan's lips. Not a sound came from the others as, one by one, the searching shots found their mark. Smack after smack came from bodies slamming in to the ground, their legs carrying them on until they gave way. The panting Bulaven and Skargo beside me, I made towards a brick wall at the end of the passage; a dead end. "Up and over!" Bulaven threw his carbine aside, heedless of the zipping lasbeams igniting the air, and cupped his hands at knee-level.
Skargo lobbed his own weapon over the wall before imitating Bulaven. "Dammit, Larn!" Both men nearly launched me over the wall entirely. I caught myself in the waist upon the parapet and threw a leg over, turning around completely and dropping down with my back scraping the bricks. Heels sore and sweating, I scrabbled for Skargo's carbine and shifted a few paces to the right, crying, "Bull!" I found grip on the knob jutting out of the bolt carrier and jerked the steel back. A rusted cartridge flew out of the chamber. On the return, the bolt locked mid-battery. "Shit." I jammed my fingers into the magazine, pressing the rounds downwards. Thick fragments of smouldering brick burst outwards, inches from my left shoulder. Hot flecks spattering my arm, I fell to the side, my grip on the carbine slipping underneath the body. Slick hands jiggling the underside of the magazine, the latch popped, spilling the unfired rounds out at my feet. Engulfed in heat, I scooted forwards, my searching hand gathering a single cartridge from the stones and shunting it into the vacant chamber. With the magazine still flapping loose, I spun around and fired back through the tattered bricks. A torrid hail of fire pummelled the wall in retaliation for my pitiful token of defiance. Gasping, I dropped the carbine and fled, shaking my arms free of the parka, letting it go.
Stacks of clay pots I hared past shattered in to a thousand pieces. Boiling pieces of rubber popped, as the piles of tyres choking my path took the brunt of the lasbeams. Dust and dirt flew in my face zipping through the cracks in my eyelids. Not a single door in either warehouse gave way to my shoves and kicks. Run, damn you! A broken pane of glass at ground level caught my eye. A cellar window, far too dirty to reveal what lay beyond, gave way to the toecap of my boot, allowing me to dive through. Announcing itself with a taste upon my tongue, the odour of a million crushed pieces of rotten, festering fruit invaded my senses, overwhelming them with the force of a four-tonne lorry to the face.
God-Emperor… On my hands and knees,I gaped at the carcass heap of green-skinned, eyeless corpses, whose grave I had just invaded. My limbs locking up, I peered around, glassy-eyed at the morbid scene. Laughing faces with wide, toothy grins, leered at me. Bony fingers reached out, inviting me to join their company. What the…? Broken beams jutted out from the walls above me, as if every single floor had collapsed under a massive weight, leaving nothing but the barebones of the warehouse's interior left. Yawning holes in the roof cast cold, grey light upon the open grave. A shrill squeak from a rat, scuttling between my legs, set my pulse racing. My legs wavering, I picked my way through the tangle or arms, legs, and scurrying balls of fur, pressing my sleeve against my mouth. God, they're so fat. How did they get so fat? I smothered a sniffle. "… Oh fuck." I nudged an arm out of my path. The papery skin around the wrist crumpled, underneath it brittle bones cracked and splintered in to little more than tiny fragments, severing the hand from the arm entirely. Who did this? Why? Clutching my other hand to my belly, I teetered through the bodies, reaching a set of concrete steps that led out of the cellar. "Bloody…" I leant against the wall, my shoulder dragging across the bricks. "Oh…" My knees gave out. Bending over double, I threw up on the steps. An alien cry outside the walls drove me on. Wriggling through a cubbyhole, I bellied through a vent, tight enough to squeeze my shoulders. Bathed in dust, I didn't hear the groans of protest given by the crawlspace. A tortured creak and the vent tilted downwards. "Shit!" Disgorged from the vent, I slammed in to a mound of ballast, careering down the steep slope and rolling off. The stickies! The crescendo of blood booming in my ears, I tottered upright, spinning around in circles. Dizzy, I ran in a skewed line in to an alleyway, the shadows rushing at me. The rough surfaces grating along my shoulders and sleeves, I broke free of the passageway, splashing through puddles. Beset with tunnel vision, I heard the blast of a horn, turned and stood on the spot, rendered impotent as four tonnes of lorry bore down on me. A giant, squealing fist hit me dead-on, knocking my body flat on its back. Landing in water, my head lolled upwards, the broken skyline of the factory blurring in to nothing.
Lost livestock, the humans stray without hound or shepherd to guide them. Izuru tracked her sights across the six humans, all wandering carelessly about between the two buildings. Saeros, gauge the range.
Crouched next to Izuru, Saeros adjusted his grip on the long rifle. One eye was pressed to the optics, the other squeezed shut. One-hundred and forty paces, my lady.
Look again, Derin said, though he faced in the opposite direction. Saeros?
Two-two-five paces. Izuru sighed to herself. Kaela, this runt is work. Heed me, Saeros. Mark your target and await my command. You will initiate contact. Do you understand?
Yes, my lady. Saeros pressed his eye against the cushioned eyepiece. I have a human in my sights.
Izuru took her forefinger from where it rested upon the rifle's curving body and hooked it around the firing stud. Her crosshairs centred upon a human. Send it. The long rifle's report split the air. Izuru's left ear twitched in irritation. Kaela, you missed! Not a single human had fallen, the bark of the travelling beam sending them running pell-mell down the corridor they were trapped in. Damn you, pirate. Izuru seethed, sighting upon a fleeing back and dropping the first human she fired at. Clean kill. Not a single one of Saeros's shots hit their target, though none of the five humans even made a passing attempt to evade Izuru's shots. Kaela, they make it too easy.
What is happening? Derin, still covering the opposite direction, asked. My lady?
At the lightest touch, the long rifle sang its tune, finding its prey. Three tallies, Izuru counted, eyeing the remaining three that reached a brick wall. The broad, bearded human who had disrespected her dropped his weapon, another human throwing his over the wall and building a stirrup for the third human, the whelp, to scale the bricks. Saeros's shot put the bearded human on the ground, just a moment too late to prevent the whelp from dropping behind the wall. Ahh, curse him! Izuru shot the last of the prey still standing. With me, corsairs! She charged at the bodies, slotting shot after shot through the bricks, blowing bright holes in the brick and cement. Izuru flew the 200 paces, placing insurance in each of the bodies she approached and kicking away the automatic that lay beside the first human she had killed. A sharp whizz-crack next to Izuru's ear dropped her to one knee. He is shooting back at me! Saeros, fire on the wall. The long rifles drowned the single answering shot out in a flurry of heat and exploding brick. Over, over! Izuru bent her knees and sprung off from the ground, catching the ledge and vaulting over to the other side. The soles of her boots scattered unfired slugs around. Aah, the human flees unarmed. Izuru nudged the wooden rifle over with her toe. The latch holding the steel magazine shut had opened, whether by accident or not, losing its contents. Just beyond it, a grey, fur-lined parka smouldered gently. The left sleeve bore many blackened holes.
You have your prey, let us return to the princess. Derin approached behind Izuru, his lasblaster trained at the path the human had fled along. Saeros followed shortly after.
You! Izuru barrelled at Saeros, shoving him back against the wall and driving a hand in to his cheek. You missed with intent! Izuru wrenched the long rifle from Saeros and passed it back to Derin, hitting him in the chest with the wide butt. Had this pirate not hardened his heart against the enemy, I would have six tallies, not five.
Let it go, my lady. We have proof of the human's demise. Derin lifted a corner of the parka with the tip of a wraithbone knife. The princess need not know of this one's escape.
Izuru pointed at the sky. Do eyes not observe out every move? Or does she tire of this exercise?
Derin shook his head. I do not know. Pursue the human no further, I beg. Who would believe him?
This will return to haunt me, Izuru thought to herself, hurrying after the human's trail. It led straight only a short way before veering left. He entered this building through the window. Izuru stooped, her hand wiping a thick layer of dirt from the broken panes. Kaela, what manner of beast would smell so turgid?
I smell it too. Derin squatted at Izuru's shoulder.
The tang of dead prey. Izuru pulled her hand back from the opening. A sickness taints the air.
Carry it back and the princess will liquidate you. I do not wish that for you.
Nor I. Saeros covered his nose, turning away and squinting. Have enough humans been murdered today?
Izuru came about and glared knives at Saeros, taking a step towards him. We do not murder, we kill. Derin moved between them, warning Saeros to retreat. To murder is to take the life of one of our kin. A human is not murder. Do you understand me, corsair?
Let us be away. Derin motioned for Saeros to move off. In peace please. I warn you, my lady, physical abuse against us will not be tolerated.
Brave words. Izuru looked down at the lasblaster's muzzle pointing at her chest. Bravely spoken from behind the muzzle of a pistol. Snorting, Izuru swept past Derin, heading back the way they had come. Saeros scurried to keep up with her. Walk at your felarch's heels, quivering-handed-one!
The gap between ranger and corsairs widened to such an extent Izuru cast the issue of the corsairs from her mind, cleansing it of all trouble. It was well away from the deserted manufactorum when the rasp of approaching engines disturbed the peace and brought her back to the present.
Kind of the princess. Derin raised a hand in greeting at a small personnel shuttle approaching. Performing a lazy turn, the shuttle touched down upon spindly legs, a short ramp extending from its hull. Armed corsairs jumped out and formed a perimeter around the vessel. Rather than Saarania or Ulthyr aboard, it was the white-haired Vliss who beckoned. Hail, Felarch. Izuru passed Vliss the long rifle and climbed past him. You were successful, lady?
Only in part. Derin chivvied Saeros aboard. A solitary human eluded us. His tall tales of evil-eyed xenos will invoke nothing but amusement, I assure you.
Ha! Vliss leered at Izuru. The hunter is not without chinks in her armour.
Izuru bit hard upon the inside of her lower lip, sitting herself in a seat with narrow partitions on both sides. She leant forwards and rested her arms on her knees, linking her fingers together. Saeros hovered before taking a space opposite her. Izuru bore Saeros a stony look, willing the ice in her eyes to chill his heart. After a few moments spent looking elsewhere, Saeros found seating elsewhere. Corsairs filled the hard seats around Izuru, Vliss himself taking the space of the youth. Not a word passed his lips. His mind remained guarded. Only his eyes betrayed his insatiable curiosity, never leaving Izuru; sizing her up and down. The queer sensation turning her stomach over, Izuru turned inwards. Nobody has ever escaped me before. Why did I not pursue further? Damn myself, damn the corsairs, and damn the whelp.
"I care not for this little brown speck of prey, Ranger. We are away from Platis," said Princess Saarania. "We are turning over new dirt." As she spoke, her corsairs hastened to take down the marquee and clear away the remains of their excess. A pink tinge occupied the sky. Izuru would have called it a fine evening, if not for the company.
"I have a new mission for you…" Saarania took an uneven step forwards. "Uly…" The bright-eyed Ulthyr, back on his feet, applied a sharp slap upon her rump, grinning. "Ulthyr, you forget our company."
"Your eminence." Ulthyr performed a mock bow and blundered away, a brimming goblet in one hand and a lasblaster in the other, shouting incoherently at anybody nearby.
"I have a new mission for you, Ranger." Saarania left the marquee, indicating Izuru to follow.
"At your beck and call now, am I?" Izuru frowned at her toes.
"If you so wish, quarters with my warriors can be arranged. Perhaps they might find a better use of you?"
Izuru took a look behind her at the sober bodyguards. "Afraid of speaking such a gutter-bred word aloud, Princess?"
Saarania's lips parted audibly. "For the uneducated, by my order, the ranger present shall be – from bows to stern, top deck to bottom – passed around the ship's company to use as they please. One by one, you will come to understand what it means to defy a princess. Then, once my warriors are satisfied, I will hand you to Dragut. You will beg me to kill you, half-caste. Thrown yourself at my feet, kiss them and plead for a merciful death, If the crew are appeased, I shall grant you the death you seek. If not…"
Izuru stared Saarania down, her voice lowering. "Then you will find yourself wanting. Rangers do not beg."
"Gang-rape or gather knowledge, Ranger. How can such a simple choice fly away from you? I tire of this stubborn streak of yours. I am the mistress. You are the servant."
"My children—"
"Are cared for." Saarania smiled, tucking her hands inside her sleeves. "Soon they will come to love me as their mother. Now, strike me. I know you wish it."
Both women faced one another. Two pairs of eyes, one pale gold, the other deep violet, locked, neither blinking, neither deviating. "So, your civilised side triumphs." Saarania showed her teeth. "Now, be a good girl and keep the barbarian within hidden. On the morrow." Izuru held her breath until her lungs were bursting, only letting it out once Saarania had embarked aboard the Rhazus.
"Our commander has yet to make an idle threat." Derin spoke. "She is ruthless…"
Izuru turned her back on the felarch, shutting her ears to him. I will see you imprisoned in eternal torment, serpent. May the Great Enemy feast forever on your soul.
The Gorynych, Night Cycle
Faint traces of blood remained upon the tiny dents in the wall. Izuru clutched her hands underneath her armpits, sitting at right-angles to the door in her quarters. Red and swollen, her hands throbbed. Without creases, her bed was vacant. Staying awake long in to the small hours, Izuru kept her eyes and ears open. Awaken. The enemy approaches! Do no locks exist on this ship? Izuru padded to the door, rolling her wrists. One being. Why only one? Izuru readied herself, drawing back as the door opened.
"Lady Numerial?" A voice whispered.
Izuru sprung, swinging a fist around and hitting the intruder in his windpipe, following up with a forearm strike across his temple, wrapping her arm around his neck and placing a hand against the back of his head. With the air sapped from his lungs, the intruder writhed in Izuru's hold. "Do not struggle. Do not struggle." Izuru pressed harder, slapping the door release and booting the back of the intruder's knee. His thrashings ceasing, the intruder relaxed. Izuru lowered him on to his back and placed a knee upon his neck. "Enough nightcalls!" Izuru spat, flecks of phlegm spattering the intruder's face. "Talk."
"Ulthyr."
"Come to have me, lech?" Izuru moved her knee away, grabbing at Ulthyr's ear and lifting his head up by it.
"Aaah, p-please…" Ulthyr's crumpled face rose from the floor. "I bear no malicious intentions, lady."
"You and every one of the Void Dragons, pirate!" Izuru twisted Ulthyr's ear.
"Your – your children are well kept, Lady Ranger."
"Where. Where?" Izuru let go of Ulthyr's ear and took a handful of his topknot.
"I cannot tell you."
Izuru balled her other hand and drove it underneath Ulthyr's groin. "Hoping to make use of it this night, pirate?"
A rush of colour turned Ulthyr's face purple. "She will do them no harm, I swear," he groaned.
"Every word you spoke I know already, pirate. Tell your child-snatcher mate I will do as she commands. Deliver her this from me as well: when it comes, she will not see it. Do you understand me?"
"I understand." Ulthyr whimpered, nodding. "I bring tidings. Tidings you would do well to heed."
"Recite not what the princess told you to tell me. It does not interest me." Izuru moved her face closer to Ulthyr.
"Grendel. Her eminence has chosen Grendel for our next destination. Insurrection rages in the system. Her eminence would bring the fleet to the Lysades Subsector. Surely rich pickings will be had upon the shipping there."
"A single subsector away from Port Maw invites trouble from the Imperial Navy. Are you not commerce raiders?" Izuru sneered. "How does this concern me?
"Her eminence will employ you as a reconnaissance operative and gatherer of knowledge on the planet's surface."
"Again, knowledge I am aware of. Were you aware of this ultimatum?"
"Ultimatum?"
"Saarania would watch as her crew takes me one at a time. How can you be wed to such a cruel creature?"
"I… I did not know. I did not know." Ulthyr's head shook. His voice wavered. "Such barbarism belongs only with the Druchii, the humans, or the Orks. I would stand in her path, were she to pass such a decree."
"Lies. Lies and deceit, snake. You are coiled around one another, serpent. Do not come to me with amiability, liar." Izuru picked Ulthyr up and propelled him from her quarters. "Get out of my sight, drunken lech."
"Bastard…" she muttered, once Ulthyr had slunk away. But immediately, her mind began to whirl. Grendel, Lysades Subsector. What could lie there that interests the princess? Izuru's bed stayed cold for the rest of the cycle, her dead-eyed vigil remaining unbroken until a distant gong ushered in the morning cycle. Izuru heard a knock upon the door as she fitted her boots. "Enter." A clatter outside brought a frown to her face. "Come." A circular tray, bearing her breakfast, sat on the deck. Black robes flashed around the corner down the corridor. "Saeros!" Izuru strode after the corsair. "Saeros, I did not dismiss you!" Her voice rose, "come back," and fell just as quickly. Saeros skulked in a recess, hoping the shadows would conceal him. "Stand up straight when I address you." Saeros stood up, looking everywhere but at his mistress. About to lash out verbally again, Izuru caught her tongue and, instead, adopted a softer tone. "The platter you delivered. Bring it inside my quarters."
Saeros did as he was told, leaving the platter upon the folded bedcovers and retreating to the doorway. Showing Saeros her back, Izuru ate. Such a peculiar predicament I find myself in. Alone and without allies. She swallowed a date and looked across at the damaged wall. "Striking you was unprofessional. It will not happen again." Izuru broke bread and dipped it in the thick paste, sitting in a small circular dish. "Speak truth now. Did you miss the humans on purpose?"
"Whether I speak truly or falsely, it will not change me in your eyes, my lady. What's done is done."
"Please answer my question."
"I… I did not become a corsair of the Void Dragons to shoot unarmed youths in the back, my lady."
Izuru gestured with her hunk of bread. "Three of the humans carried firearms, marking them as a threat."
"The young human in grey ran for his life. They were all running for their lives, my lady."
"And the very same human you let slip away. This human then armed himself and returned fire on us with intent to kill. Does that not give you motive to end his little life?"
"They were panicking. Where they could have made a stand, all chose to run instead. Put yourself in their place, my lady."
"Compare me not with the prey." Izuru's hand tightened upon the platter in her lap. "Compare me not." The thud-thud staccato in her chest receding, Izuru spoke evenly once more. "You cannot answer for yourself, so I shall place my trust in you, pirate. Never betray me."
"Yes, Lady Numerial. I am your steward."
Izuru snapped a thin wafer with her thumb. "Ever."
Rough leather boots pressed against my sides. From beneath me, the floor jumped and jostled. Above, a thick bulk of a body applied its weight to my torso. The persistent growl of a motor engine shook the surface I lay against, jarring the sore mess that was my face. Short pops punctuated the noise, each one a blunt stab at my heart. "Ah, 'ello, he's awake." Steel toecaps prodded me up and down.
"Thought he'd come a cropper after going hand-to-hand with the lorry." Somebody laughed.
The man sitting atop me poked at the back of my head with a muzzle. "Ah-ah. Head down, my friend. Better for you not to move, eh?" The voice belonging to the man had a peculiar accent, fairly prominent, and quite alien to my ears. Xenos? I thought for a wild moment. Oh, please let it not be the stickies! Hearty curses were given when the lorry rolled over a particularly nasty rut. Through swollen lips, I moaned, receiving another poke from my captor. "Shush now. You'll upset the men."
On an on this went, an endless ordeal of pain, interspersed by the jab of the feet on either side of me. Rows of brown leather boots made up my world, the legs and bodies above them outside my field of view. What the hell's going on outside? Thumps and bangs came more and more frequently, culminating in the lorry pulling to a halt, unseating my captor and bringing about another volley of curse-words from the passengers.
"Debus, debus!" A crash of a tailgate being flung open was followed by a hammering of boots.
"Grab the boy. Grab his legs and arms."
Brusque hands took hold of me. Wailing, I was thrown from the rear of the lorry, in to the arms of soldiers in smudged, faded khaki camouflage jackets and helmets with thick netting. Brown-skinned hands carried me over to a ditch at the side of the road. The ground rushed up to meet me as the soldiers plonked me down among them. Face up, I could see only the grey sky and the ducking and bobbing helmets belonging to the strangers. Dirt thrown skywards showered me, falling in to my mouth and eyes. My palms came down upon my ears as crisp bangs shook the ground beneath me, the pain worse than the incredible ache gripping my bruised body, so much so that I tried lifting my head off the ground. A hand forced it back down in to the yellow grass. A bulging backpack found residence upon my face, its owner hugging the bank. Slow-moving, fixed-wing aircraft roared overhead, their pale-grey underbellies nestling with bombs. Scrambling feet dug in to my sides. Hoarse shouts were given. A pop-pop-pop of an automatic cannon jarred my teeth. Bright streaks flashed through the sky.
"Okay, mount up, move out!" A voice cried after the planes had cleared off. "Alla-see!" My impotent body received the same rough treatment on its transferral back inside the lorry. The four-tonner was part of a column of troop transports, each in the midst of receiving the same brown-skinned soldiers. Fields of yellow grass surrounded the dirt road, pockmarked with water-logged craters. In the far distance, yawning towers of black smoke rose to tickle the heavens. A continuous rumble of artillery rattled the glass panes in the lorry's cab and made the suspension creak. Dragged along the floor of the troop compartment, I yelped at the stampede of boots coming down on my arms and legs. "Shuddup, boy." A grunt kicked me in the side.
"Be silent, uh?" Another threw a haversack over me face, stifling my sobs. A jerk underneath and we were underway again.
"We're out of 'ere, boys."
"'Bout fucking time, I say."
"Ah, say foo-too." A snick of lighter firing was followed by a flick of the lid shutting. "Mm."
Say what? What did he just say?
Watery thuds came from artillery falling outside, heaps of earth spattering down upon the lorry's canvas roofs. "Shit, I lost it." A knee touched me. "Aha, the boy's got it."
"Ow!" A red-hot finger brushed the back of my neck.
"Nah, he's lost it." The same knee thrust against my head. "Little anus. Throw him out."
"Yeah, toss him!"
"Hold tongues, the lotta you. Rats and wolves, you're like animals!"
Subdued, the grunts continued their bickering and back-and-forth banter, now ignoring the olive grey speck of insignificance lying beneath them. Throne, what the hell am I getting in to now?
What seemed like hours later the lorry made a tight left turn, driving around in a shallow curve. Over the screech of the brakes, jet turbine engines howled.
"Okay, off-off, debus!" The tailgate lowered and grunts leapt out, their feet slapping upon steel decking. "Get the boy on a stretcher." Borne out of the lorry in the same splayed manner, I was lowered on to a foldout stretcher and lifted up by two brown-skinned, dark-eyed grunts. Nothing more than shouts was passable now. The coming and going of air traffic trumped even the wham of the big guns, though the latter still made it their mission to punch my heart out with an invisible fist.
"Alley, alley!" One of the grunts carrying my stretcher squawked, his netted pot bouncing up and down upon his tiny head. Files of queuing grunts flew past me. The fat arse-end of a transport blocked out the sky. Two jabbering figures, one in dirty combats, the other in a one-piece flightsuit, blocked the grunts from boarding.
"No-no-no, my friend, wounded only—"
"Ah, this little rat gets a free pass, does he?" The grunt – an officer – shouted. "Hold there, Private. He's not even wounded."
"Okay, one moment." The crewman turned away from the white-faced officer and shook my shoulder. "Can you walk. Can he walk?"
"No." One of the stretcher-bearers replied.
"Not a chance," said the other.
"Well, where's he hit?"
"He's not."
"What?"
"He's not. He got hit by a lorry."
"What?!" The crewman leant forwards and the stretcher-bearer shouted in his ear.
"He got run over!"
"Get him on. Make sure you rejoin the line afterwards. I want to see you back out here."
"Okay. Alley!"
"Hey, he's not wounded. I've got a whole platoon waiting here."
My head tilted upwards. Looking down the slight slope at my feet, I saw the continuing argument between the crewman and the officer, whose hand was moving in the direction of the leather holster at his waist. Beyond the officer, two long lines of grunts queued up to board. Behind them and across the makeshift runway, bombed-out carcasses of hangars sat; now nothing but skeletons. Bulldozers and teams of men worked to clear corpses of aircraft, some still burning, some simple wrecks, off the landing zones. Other similar exchanges between grunts and aircrew were happening all over the rubbish-strewn airbase. Neat lines of grunts waited for ships to pick them up, in most cases they were simply standing around as if their destruction wasn't nigh. God, it's worse than Butcher's Rock, my sole thought before the two grunts dumped me in the darkness and hurried back towards the circle of light.
Cool air brought the wet to my eyes. Around me, the breathing of other wounded cases tussled with the artificial cold pumped out by the ship's ventilation. Coughs and sneezes made echoes. Am I safe? What do I do now? I stuck a trembling fist inside my mouth. "…God."
"Hello?" A grunt lying next to me turned his head in my direction. "You alright there?"
"I've… I've…" All notion of clear-headed speech deserted me. In rapid-fire sobs, I cried aloud, burying my screwed-up face in my sleeve.
A thin hand found mine, took it and held on. "I'm Arthur. They call me Art."
"J-J-James."
"We're safe here, James. We're all gonna be okay. I'm Art, remember?"
"Art." I swallowed, feeling the swollen lump welling in my throat. "I'm James."
"Got it good in the shoulder, so I did. Can't lift my arm up high enough to hold a rifle. Puts me out of the fight. Hang on there, pal. We're getting looked after now. Don't have to be looking out for ourselves anymore."
"I… I… I got hit…"
"Yeah, so did I, James."
"Got hit by a lorry."
"A lorry? Throne of Terra…"
"Felt exactly like what I thought getting hit by a lorry would feel like." I drew a sleeve across my eyes, working the cotton like a tissue. "Mmm, xenos… run."
"S'alright. Get some rest now, James." Art let go of my hand. "I'm right here for you. Won't be going nowhere. Promise."
The sobs subsiding, I tilted my head up to look at the closing hatch. "Are we…?"
"Oh, finally." Art flopped down on his stretcher. "Thank the Emperor, we've been here hours."
"Art?" The light cut out completely. "Where are you?"
"Right with you, James." Art reached out to me, taking my hand. "Got a family?"
"Mmm, yeah."
"Eh, so have I. Got something in common then, 'aven't we?" Art worked his stretcher closer to mine. "Hang on… there we go. You like football?"
"Uhh, parents don't like it. 'Aven't really had a proper kickaround for years."
"Aeolus Aces for me. Kinda like the Jaws too. Jaxos Jaws from Port Maw. They've got a good line-up going."
"I dunno, I didn't see much on the telescreens or the net. None o' that in my area." I worked our held hands in to a handshake. "James Larn."
"Art Drow." Art shook back. "You have any idea where we're going?"
"Nah, none."
Art sighed. "Me neither. I've – I've never been away from home before. I'm Nineteen."
"Eighteen. It's my first time too. I've… I've had a bit-bit of a time." My face contorted. I bit on the side of my fist. "Can I talk to you about it?"
"Course."
Over the growing roar of the transport's engines, I spilled everything to Art, withholding nothing. All the time he listened to me, captive, never losing interest or interrupting once. The long, convoluted, babbled tale I spun, did something I believed was an impossibility; it eased the deep ache inside me, granting me respite and a deep slumber without fear of the twin pin-pricks of gold creeping at me in the night.