Shadow of a Doubt

Chapter 30

On the small moon, the Word Bearers landed in three of their Thunderhawks and looked about at the environment around them. There was barely any atmosphere, only barren craters that made up the landscape of the moon. Nusku walked down the landing ramp with the zero gravity claws underneath his boots activated and glanced over at the nothingness around them. He was escorted by a squad of his chosen ones, the Octaivan who had survived their descent. He would take his vengeance on what he could only guess as members of the XIX Legion that had gotten the better of them. Or perhaps it could have been their bastard off springs, it mattered little to him. The Octaivan veterans around him held their bolters in their hands and stood behind him wordlessly. The Sorcerer exited the gunship behind them and chuckled, a disturbingly joyful sound coming from the throat of one that was used to mastering the unholy words of the warp. From the other gunships exited Word Bearer Legionnaires, each being marshalled to their squad leaders to form a skirmish line that would stand behind Nusku who gave a gesture to the Sorcerer. Ashakhet smiled and walked forward nonchalantly, humming a song from perhaps his youth, from before he had become what he is now.

He would lead them across the cratered surface of the moon, avoiding gasses that would vent into the atmosphere from small volcano like growth in the landscape. There would be a small trench that went all around the planet in an odd mannerism that seemed to be almost an etching onto the face of the moon itself. In the center of all this was a small structure, a single pyramid it seems shrouded by an odd fog that should not be possible on a moon. It was a deep blue fog that surrounded the place, but the Sorcerer would walk in without any hesitation. After a brief moment, Nusku looked at his troops and walked through as well. The moment he walked through, he could see what seemed like ghosts of different creatures, some humanoid and some not who stalked through the mists although they would dissipate harmlessly when he walked into one of them. As he walked further in, he could see the Sorcerer standing there finally at the entrance to the pyramid. The pyramid wasn't large; it was perhaps only slightly taller than two Land Raiders stacked together on top of each other. The entrance way was however quite large for the structure. The door frame was made of an obsidian black material with a large double door that seemed to have been cast from bronze that had stood the test of time remarkably well. Ashakhet looked at him and nodded once before lifting up his staff and he uttered a few words. It suddenly felt like the air around him was being sucked from him and every single of his Astartes, some collapsing down onto a knee even though they all had their full environmental features turned on in their power armour. Then with a burst of pressure that emanated from the sorcerers staff, the doors opened before them. From inside could be seen in the darkness of the entrance way a strange blue glow. The Sorcerer nodded, as if satisfied and stepped in.

Nusku followed him in to see a monument to what must have been the sights seen from orbit over Tizca, but cast in a series of illusionary lights. Around it stood three full squads of Thousand Son Astartes, all holding their weapons yet covered in a fine layer of dust that suggest they have not moved in a very long time. Their weapons were of patterns that had not been seen in almost ten thousand years, the intricate pattern carved into the receivers by long dead Prosperan forges still visible after all this time. Ashakhet smiled again, his black gums glistening in a sickening smile as he removed his helmet, the old style helmet releasing its seals with a soft hiss. "This… this is what I require. My brothers, brought back to me.." Removing a gauntlet from his left hand, he drew a black bladed ornamental combat knife and sliced it across his wrist and his palm, letting the blood collect in his palm before hissing out a few arcane words and throwing the blood in the air. The rich crimson droplets of Astartes blood would fly towards the Thousand Sons before collecting in a singular large globe, held together by a string of darkness that suddenly released, sending a tiny droplet towards each suit of armour. With a dark purple glow, the eyes of each suit of armour glowed, the seal upon them released as one. With loud creaky groans, all three squads would take a step together as one, before kneeling down in front of the Sorcerer.

Nusku looked around him at the other Word Bearers uneasily. Three full squads of XV legionnaires? One squad was difficult enough to deal with, requiring powerful munitions to destroy the bonds between the enchanted armour. The XVII legionnaires gripped their bolters tightly, while others had their thumbs resting on the activation studs of their Axe Rakes, ready to thumb the blades to life and sliced the armour open and rip them apart. The Sorcerer however, examined his "brothers" and nodded, the three XV squads getting up onto their feet and looked to him for direction. Having fully established the mental link that would control them, he turned to the Word Bearer veteran and smiled with almost child-like glee. "Well, I have what I need. Shall we be off then?" Nusku nodded without a word but before he could give a signal, the first burst of bolter fire cut through one of his men standing next to him. He would look and from beyond, there were a flight of Thunderhawks, their heavy bolters flashing as long streams of bolter rounds flew through the air akin to a lethal rain storm that was about to moisten the barren moon with their blood.

"Oh I forgot to mention didn't I? It's my old age. It's guarded by a small contingent of our cousins from the VI." He would cackle slightly mad as the Thunderhawks, now revealed to be painted in the storm grey and blue of the Wolves began dropping hirsute Astarte warriors after a long dive towards the surface of the moon. The minute the Wolves landed, the veteran members of the Vlka Fenryka set up their heavy weapons and began firing long streams of heavy bolter as well as bolts of plasma and the occasional torso thick beams of armour melting las bolts. Cursing the fate that had led him here, Nusku snarled into his helmet vox as the other veteran Octaivan Astartes sprinted for cover while returning bursts of bolter fire. Heavy weapon teams would begin to set up hastily in order to counter the effects of the VI Long Fangs, but the withering pattern of fire was enough to cause a delay even to the veteran Word Bearers manning the heavy weapons. Nusku fired off a blindly aimed burst towards the general direction of the Wolves as he looked at the Sorcerer with venom. "Oh do not fret my good friend, I have thought of this contingency." With a mental thought from the Sorcerer, the XV Astartes began to move as one. The utterance of a single word of power could barely be heard over the din of the battle yet it could be felt. A large bubble of light purple coalesced in front of the traitor legionnaires, slight dimples could be seen where the enemy fire hit the shield. Under the shield, the XV Astartes had set up their lascannons as well as their plasma cannons while those who carried the ornate and ancient autocannons fired long bursts of suppression. Too far away to be targeted by any of the Word Bearers, the autocannons had stitched a line of gore and puffs of red mist through a charging line of the Wolves, their number cut down almost half just by the initial volley. Once the lascannons were set up, the Long Fangs began to be disintegrated by las bolts fired by hands that no longer worried about a pulse while the plasma cannons exploded in sections of blue across the battlefield.

Grounding his teeth and unwilling to let the battle be won by a son of the Cyclopes, Nusku ordered his Octaivan forward. Charging across a straight line while chanting out the words of Lorgar, the XVII legionnaires activated their Axe Rakes and in moments, the two lines of crimson and storm grey collided, smashing into each other in a fury of whirring blades biting into ceramite. Nusku swung his power axe through the chest of a young pup, barely old enough to be weaned off of milk while dodging the sloppy attack of another, kicking a leg out and throwing out the original attacker off balance as he flawlessly changed the angle of the axe as he pulled it out of the dead pup and effortlessly sliced through the bearded head of the other. The tang of rich loyalist blood pleased him; this was the truest interpretation of the Word of Lorgar. But as he cut through another whelp that dove at him head first holding a whirring chain axe, he spat on the ground with slight disgust; these were not the Wolves of Fenris as he remembered them. Ten thousand years had diluted their bloodlines, no longer were they the feared executioners under Russ. They lacked the martial skill to back up their ferocity. He paused in his slaughter and curled his lips underneath his helmets. Only the heavy weapon operators seemed to have any true skill, firing in accurate fusillades against the Thousand Son husks as they withdrew, seemingly being wise enough to know when they have been outmatched. At the same time, their withdrawal was not a cowardly retreat. The remaining Long Fangs pulled out of visible range of the Thousand Sons and instead to a more defensible position where their remaining heavy weapons were put to devastating use, a Krak missile hitting one of the unthinking legionnaires right underneath the neck, the blast melting the torso, causing limbs of armour to scatter to the ground.

The Sorcerer didn't seem concerned, although he did take a wise step behind the advancing armoured screen of XV warriors. At the same time, the Octaivan began to surge up the left flank. The crimson fist had smashed through the storm grey, the young pups of the Rout no match for those with more than ten thousand years of war. Yet they died to a warrior, no retreat, no quarter given or asked. One of the Octaivan was brought down by a wolf pup who had an arm missing and both legs below the knee, a last act ramming a chain axe through the legionnaires stomach armour, shoving it through and up as the revving teeth of the axe chewed through the ceramite into the organs underneath, a bloody mess of pulped meat falling down along the shaft of the chain axe even as the legionnaire rammed his axe rake through the screaming cursing face of his opponent, the two collapsing against each other held up only by their respective chain weapons.

Advancing quickly up the left side of the small hills, the Octaivan began to bring more effective fire into the dug in Long Fangs who responded by doubling the rate of fire coming from their heavy weapons. A heavy bolter round hit close enough that it dented the left side of Nusku's helmet, making him duck and curse as he returned fire with his bolter one handed, a poorly aimed burst that fired high. The sound of a loud buzz saw could be heard as a Thunderhawk swooped in from orbit and began firing their quad linked heavy bolters through the Word Bearers advance. Las beams fired at it were dissipated easily by the gunships armour, although whenever someone did fire, a burst of heavy bolter rounds were fired in response.

With a mad cackle, Ashakhet raised his staff and from it erupted a massive bolt of lightning, hitting the Thunderhawk dead on into the cockpit causing a sickening detonation that caused the gunship to crack in half, both sides falling onto the positions of the Long Fangs they were meant to cover. The battle was over in an instant, the only sound on the battlefield being the slight crackling of the chemical fires that burned over the position of what used to be Long Fang veterans of the Rout. Nusku grinded his teeth as he looked over the casualties the Octaivan had taken, it was time to recruit more. "I hope your brothers are worth it. It was a dear price that was paid."

"Oh all in good time my friend." The Sorcerer would reply with a carefreeness that annoyed the XV officer. "You will see… you will see what we will accomplish. The stars, no, the warp itself will ebb and flow at our actions. We will create the winds which will sweep aside our enemies…" With a sickening smile revealing his black gums, Ashakhet set his helmet back on his head as XV Thunderhawks began to land around them.

Memlock

The witch sat in her cell with her eyes closed, motionless for the past few hours since she had awoke. Of course, should she even attempt to do anything to the null collar around her neck, the two Sisters outside her cell would gladly shred her with the bolters they carried. Of course there were no cells that were truly made for Eldar, but this was as close to a secure facility as it would get. Sergeant Larhu had given orders for one of the wings of the barracks cleared out just for their prisoners. The rest of the Eldar did not receive such high level guards, merely secured with las-cuffs and detonation collars. Simple food and drink had been provided for them, each cell holding four of the xenos. Kyreg stood outside the cell and watched the witch, curious about what flowed through her mind right now. Of course he knew he could never understand the warped senses of a xeno witch but regardless, he looked at her with some envy at the peace she seemed to be able to attain so easily. He always wondered, if his progenitor the Emperor had ever intended for Astartes to be able to attain peace. Not peace for the galaxy but rather personal peace. He remembered when he was still a child, after holding the grenade in one of the mass conscription levies that came and how afterwards, he had been taught to channel every ounce of his will to completing the mission. Still, that peace is not something built into him. The closest thing that came from his Genefather which resembled peace was the patience to plan and plot, to create plans that would come into fruition years later, even decades and centuries later. He would make a gesture and Sister Superior Isibeal would open the cell door. The witch did not stir even with the door being opened, as Kyreg walked through. As the cell door locked behind him, he took his helmet off and glimpsed at her.

By mortal standards she would have been attractive, except for the oddity for her facial feature and her ears. Her limbs were almost impossibly long and lithe for a human, and he smelled none of the usual human scents on her. She smelled completely alien, which was the only way to detect an Eldar witch if she had disguised herself through witchcraft.

"I know you are awake. No real harm has come to you. There is no need to pretend to be otherwise." He would wait for a reaction, and when none came, he would hold up the bag of spirit stones and shook them slightly; the slight clack of the various stones hitting each other caused her eyes to snap open and glare at him hatefully. "There is no need to stare at me with such venom; I do not intend to do with them as you believe."

The witch glared at him before eyeing the stones. "You Mon'keigh are all alike, taking treasures which you have no business to handle, destroying those that you do not understand." Kyreg chuckled deeply, and set the stones in front of her, causing her to look at him suspiciously. "I do not care for these stones. They are useless to me, and meaningless. To you they have meaning. That is not why you are here however. You are here because I wish to know why my traitorous brethren wish to get their hands on them." The witch opened the bag, and examined the contents carefully before breathing a long sigh of relief. "It has been a very long time since my visions have proven me wrong. I have seen you in the ethereal before. I have sensed you." Kyreg looked at her impassively, waving a hand for her to continue on.

"I saw in my visions, of the battle to come where the hydra lurked, the many headed hydra binding around the planet. I saw the hydra but I did not understand what it represented." Her emerald eyes flashed over the symbol of the hydra on his armour. "I thought it represented a misfortune that could fall upon my plans, but no it represented a specific faction that I had not accounted for." She took a deep breath and wrapped her hands around the bag of spirit stones. "They wish to take them for the souls of my people contained within them. I wish to recover them to bring them back to where they belong, but the ruinous powers as always thirst for more Aeldari souls to slake their ever hunger for more. What they wish to do with them, I cannot tell you for I do not know nor do I have any inclination to find out. But what do they always wish to do with the souls of my people? That is something you are not unfamiliar with. I have seen your colours before, Mon'keigh. Yet you are not like those that I have met. I do not yet believe that I would see a Mon'keigh that had the capacity to understand the importance of the spirit stones. I sense my fallen comrades nearby. What did you do with their spirit stones?"

Kyreg stared at her for a moment. "I gave them to your comrades. Like I said, I have no desire for them. Nor do I care to possess them; their powers are not something that should be taken lightly. Even your people acknowledge that fact." Lilithfeon's face had a slight flicker of surprise at the knowledge displayed by the Mon'keigh standing in front of her. "I am here to recover those stones and those stones only. I care not for your machinations, Mon'keigh." Kyreg nodded and set his helmet back on to his face. "Tell me, what would happen if the souls in those stones were sacrificed all at once to the ruinous powers? What effect would that have?" Lilithfeon made a horrified face. "It would be disastrous, all those psychic signatures suddenly being devoured by Chaos, it would be a tremendous loss. However, I believe that you are less concerned about my peoples loss and more concerned about what benefit it would give them. Well Mon'keigh, it would allow them to power a massive warp gate into the warp itself. Unlike the ones they can simply summon, they can use the power of the spirit stones to keep the warp gate open. It would not be a temporary one." Kyreg nodded in understanding. "I thank you for your answers. Bring the spirit stones back to your people. In return however, I will ask of you a favour. One that I have not yet decided on." The Aeldari witch looked at him, her face a calm surface but underneath where emotions crashed in waves and peaks before she gripped onto them with her ferocious mental strength and forced them into calmness. "Very well Mon'keigh. Very well. But be forewarned, do not expect me to betray my Craftworld for your favour." Kyreg laughed as he turned and exited the cell, the two Sisters of Silence standing outside locking the cell door after him.

Memlock orbit

"Inquisitor, the psychic signatures came from the planet here. No contact has been made for a very long time with the Imperium." The bridge crew member reported. The silver haired inquisitor nodded, his physical appearance of around fifty hidden by the multiple rejuvenat treatments he has had over the years. The cruiser Titans Judgement floated through atmosphere slowly, matching its engines to the rotation of the planet. Behind the Inquisitor stood a full squad of Astartes, clad in purple and bone. On their shoulder pauldrons were painted stylized chalices, painted in gold. "Have the scanners picked up any signs of civilization?" Inquisitor Dion asked as the ship's crew worked furiously plotting out various instruments and activating multiple frequency scanners. "It appears my Lord, that there is one major hub of civilization."

The Inquisitor nodded. "Then prepare a Thunderhawk. We shall make planet fall." His orders were quickly obeyed, and in only half an hour, he stepped on board the Thunderhawk with his Astartes escorts.

"What do you think we will find, Inquisitor?" Sergeant Bronchius asked. He was a veteran Sergeant from the Sarpedon faction, although the last he had heard, his brothers had long been written down in the annals of history. "I think, that we will find Eldar, my friend. The psychic signature is too pure to be one of a human psyker." The Astarte nodded, and gave brisk orders to his squad to prepare their weapons.

Memlock

"My Lord, our ground defensive scanners have picked up a vessel incoming. It's markers are unknown, actually a more accurate description would be the markers are hidden." The Rogue Trader looked at the data slate offered to him by Lieutenant Klara, and looked a bit troubled. "Hidden is never good news. Hidden implies Inquisition." He looked over at Kyreg who smiled thinly at the news before activating his power armour's built in camouflage effect to hide the dusk blue of the XX, replacing it instead with the midnight black of the Blackshield. "Well then Master Rogue Trader, let us bade them welcome." Behind him stood Sergeant Larhu who's lips curled slightly at his words. The XX Veteran Sergeant would move off to brief his squad; there were preparations to be made.

An hour and a bit later, the Inquisitional Thunderhawk landed in the town square, in front of the palace where an honour guard of Memlock Rifles stood in full ceremonial gear. However, no one waited to greet them. The Inquisitor chewed on his lips for half a second before chuckling and walked into the main hall where the new ruler Ulysses sat on the throne along with the white uniformed members of the Palace Guard.

"Lord Inquisitor, what a distinct honour I have of being able to greet you. Have you come to investigate the missing tithes? I assure you that the tithes will continue immediately, we have had a chance of governance lately you see and –." He was cut off abruptly by the Inquisitor raising a hand. "No hardly, Lord Governor, I am here to investigate something else completely although the statues of the Emperor bring warmth to my heart. I was worried that I would be descending into the dens of heretics.. allow me to introduce myself. I am Inquisitor Dion Ephemeris of the Ordo Hereticus. And I am here to investigate the massive influx of psyker energy that has come out of here."

Ulysses blanched for a moment. "Lord? We do not have psykers or rather they are not a common mutation amongst this planet." The Inquisitor shook his head. "Now is not a time to be lying to me, Governor. Interesting fact for you, I highly doubt your position has been fully ratified yet but I can ratify it for you on the spot. Or I can remove you from power, citing reasons of incompetence or worse, standing in the way of an Inquisitor." Ulysses paled and shakily gestured towards the various lackeys that hung around his throne room. "Whatever you require from me, Inquisitor, I will provide. However I truly do not know of any psyker cults here. I have taken over for under a month and we are still rebuilding. That's why I ask for leniency with our tithes.." The Inquisitor laughed with a friendly smile on his face. "Relax Governor, I only jest. Yes, I will ratify your rule seeing as it is obvious you are a man loyal to the Imperium. I hardly need to say that it is the job of the Inquisition to root out the problems which even the rulers would have a hard time distinguishing. After all, that is what I am trained in." He would reply smoothly. The governor looked more reassured at his words. "Worry not Lord Governor, these anomalies happen quite often, especially around planets that have been cut off from the Imperial Fold for a while. I'm sure it is simply a disturbance in the warp, nothing unusual. But you understand of course, that is something that I as an Inquisitor must investigate just to be sure."

"Of course Lord, I understand. Please, allow me to render any assistance you wish." Ulysses looked to have recovered his colours after the reassuring words of the Inquisitor. After a few more polite exchanges of words, the Inquisitor would depart from the palace, and headed to a rather high end inn where he would take over the entire structure, kicking out the other customers to leave only the serving staff.

As the night approached, Dion sat in his chambers with two of his Astartes bodyguards outside as he poured another measure of amasec into a crystal glass and took a large sip. There was something here, he was sure of it. The shuriken pistol in its custom holster sat at his hip concealed by his long trench coat was only one of the many xenos artifacts he possessed. In his boot was a wraith bone power dagger that he had taken off a Rogue Trader he had executed decades ago. Something was at work here, he was sure of it. As he moved to pour another bottle of amasec, he noticed something. A wax paper note inside the bottle itself. Well it wasn't toxin, otherwise the first half of the bottle would have killed him already. Using the power dagger, he would slice the top of the glass clean off and reached in to retrieve the small note and read it. It had a simple message and it made him smile.

"The Eldar are in the barracks."

In the morning, after his breakfast of scrambled eggs and wheat chunks with some delicately smoked fish, he poured himself a large mug of recaf and then exited his room. The guards outside have not been replaced, after all the Astartes hardly needed too much rest. "We head for the barracks."

The barracks were left empty, devoid of any guards. The doors opened for them rather simply, although the cells still had the Eldar in them. The Eldar sat in their cells, staring at him sullenly as well as giving glares of disgust at the Astartes that accompanied him. He would walk from cell to cell like a child at a toy store, staring at the Eldar in unhidden delight. He went so far as to take out a note book and take notes at the appearances of the various Eldar that he could see. Of course there was one room where he could sense the psyker energy coming from and he would head towards it, seeing into the cell that held Lilithfeon and smiled to himself. This was truly a treasure, a captured Eldar. However his mind quickly raced as to how it came to be that it seemed an entire group of Eldar have been captured. The technology here it seemed were still bolt action rifles and a few autoguns, nothing that would stand a chance against Eldar shuriken weapons. Sergeant Bronchius looked at him questioningly but before the words can come out of his mouth, the lights went out. The autosenses of the Astartes helmet would adjust to the sudden lack of light indoors but something was clouding their senses, a slight hiss of a smoke grenade could be heard as the room they stood in was filled with a chemical smoke that obscured low light vision, filling the room with millions of micro-reflectors in the smoke that would make the room appear to be so bright so as to prevent any detail from being shown. When the smoke finally cleared and the lights came back on, the Inquisitor along with all the Eldar had simply disappeared. Sergeant Bronchius snarled and ordered his squad to clear the rest of the barracks, the purple armoured Astartes moving like a well-oiled machine as each room was checked. Nothing remained in the cell that held the Eldar witch other than a single disruptor, a single small cube that emitted immense psyker energy.

"Sergeant, this is a trap if I ever saw one." Ryazan, the squads second in command would state out loud. "Damn Inquisitors, always charging in. Every Inquisitor believe themselves to be untouchable." The Sergeant replied. "Who is our enemy then, that would dare to touch an Inquisitor in the first place? The ruinous powers?" Belefont, the squads plasma gunner would ask. The Sergeant shook his head. "No, the only ones who would dare lay a hand on an Inquisitor escorted by a squad of Astartes.. is another Astarte.