This chapter should've come a long time ago. Sorry, I'm enjoying the holidays a little too much. Think of this as one of the many Christmas/ year end gifts I could give, and that's to my beloved readers out there. Enjoy!
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The rusted slabs of reinforced steel and ceramite creaked open for the first time in millennia, giving way to Horus and his motley band of Luna Wolves and Ynnari. If he was appalled by the unmatched pestilent nature of Nurgle's touch, he was even more unsettled to witness the unparalleled heap of filth, defiled mulch and all manner of unbearable abominations. This unwholesome realm is home to every pox and affliction imaginable and is alive with the stench of rot, the kind that could melt through the rebreather grills in the finest power armors in existence!
Above the pile of writhing, living pox-filled flesh that seeped through the visible cracks of the floors and walls, sat the Traveler upon the Throne Mechanicum. The Herald of the Fly Lord, the undisputed servant of Rot and Decay second only to Mortarion himself, Typhus hurled forth his challenge upon the encroached heroes. He welcomed them in a manner unbecoming of an avatar of the jovial Dark God Nurgle, a bristling and mocking irony that earned his patron's displeasure. All were welcome to death and decay, there was no need for spite.
"Futile, your attempts to deny the glorious embrace of the Grandfather of all!" His distorted voice, a storm of fluttering multitudinous wings of a thousand daemon flies, reverberated across the blighted chamber. "You refuse his gift of death, freedom from your cursed and weakened forms! Very well! Deny him at your peril, for now you are mine!"
At least, that was what the Fly Lord intended. Typhus roared and bellowed, his words falling on deaf ears as Horus quickly scanned the bridge for any that would give him and his sons an advantage. The Primarch whispered his commands to his sons, and they responded quickly to them. As soon as the Destroyer flies poured out of the bone-funnels in his back, a wave of cleansing, purging prometheum flame answered in kind. The power of Yvraine's crystal, the shard of the Burning One, intensified the fires of hell even further, and not even the blessings of the Warp could stave the wrath of the Luna Wolves. They weren't here to take their time, they hated every minute spent in this cursed place and wished to be gone as quickly as possible.
"Burn them all!" Captain Galio roared, "Let us finish this and be on our way!"
Suddenly, the murked air within the chamber shifted, swayed to the will of the Traveler. The power of the Hand of Darkness, of whose capabilities remained as enigmatic as its name, throttled many Luna Wolves and Ynnari warriors who were unprotected through time. They were thrusted a thousand years forward, causing them to age faster than their current rate. Before the eyes of their commanders, the valiant warriors collapsed under their own weight in bodies too old to hold them up. Bones grew brittle and cracked within their fleshy prisons, organs distended and burst from bile, and the blood within them ran cold as they ceased to move within rotted vessels.
Their armor rusted and cracked, and soon crumbled as the bodies within them turned to ash.
"Now do you see?" Horus barked at the Prophetess, "It must be destroyed!"
"I have said you are welcome to make that attempt!" She returned hotly, having grown impatient due to her efforts to control the C'tan at the same time dealing with her Mon'kei ally. "Be quick! The longer we stay here, the more powerful Typhus becomes from using the artifact!"
Horus whirled Soulrender about and sent a streak of raw psychic energy to lash out at Typhus, a strike that missed its mark when the Traveler leaned back and remained unharmed. Fortunately, the shot was not in vain, for the Throne Mechanicum burst into flames and exploded from the sudden rush of eldritch power. Typhus' control on the Terminus Est was severed for a moment, allowing the ships bombarding it from the outside to gain the advantage and shatter it down to the lowest level of shielding. Levels and decks caught fire and burned out, with many others breaking away from repeated hammering.
"Brilliant, you've managed to graze him!" Yvraine exclaimed sardonically, immediately earning herself the ire of the Primarch's captains. "What's next, are you going to mesmerize him with your bedazzling light?"
"Guard your tongue when you address our Primarch, witch!" Galio snarled, "Or else I will part you from it!"
Horus pursed his lips at this, then smiled. "That is...actually not a bad idea. Cover your eyes, Prophetess." He raised Soulrender and willed it to cast the most brilliant flash of light it could muster, causing the Warp-maddened creatures of the Empyrean and all those traitor spacemarines to shrink and falter from the sudden luminance that erupted in the bridge.
Yvraine was at a loss for words at this response, earning herself an amused chuckle from the Lupercal as he walked forward to force Typhus down from his throne on high. "Thank you for your suggestion, Prophetess."
"Despair in darkness, Horus Lupercal!" Typhus roared, making a wide slash with the Manreaper in an attempt to lay the Primarch low. The rusted scythe uttered a loud clang as it struck the hallowed spear, hooking onto it as both contenders tugged and pulled.
"A scythe? A scythe?!" Horus taunted, "Are you planning on murdering fields of wheat?"
"Yes! For you are that wheat, Primarch!" The Herald snarled, dislodging the Manreaper that he may recover his stance. "Tall and golden, ripe for the harvest! Pray to your ailing father upon his Throne, for the locusts are upon you! I will shatter you in two, I shall take your head and mount it upon a spike! Your bones will pave my road to Terra, and your skin shall become my standard!"
"Quite a lot of plans coming from a dead man, I shall take much pleasure in their ruination." Horus said, twirling Soulrender deftly between his hands.
"Fwaah!" The drukhari warrior's mouth hung open, blood spilling out of that gaping hole as another yawned open from a round that discharged close to his face. He glared daggers at the last position he saw the sniper and lobbed a grenade in its direction, only to expose himself further to Liivi's killing shot. The marksman followed up quickly, dispatching the warrior with that single shot as he slid down the hill to fade into the treeline.
The raiding band was large enough to overwhelm the little family, and they would've succeeded in doing so had they stuck to their more formidable tactics instead of swooping in like greedy ravens they were on a slab of meat.
Liivi ran swiftly, but not enough to escape the faster, more agile elite of the drukhari pirates. Indeed, no amount of genetic enhancements or adaptations could fall on par with the superior bio-modifications of the aeldari, how much more for the dark eldar who had little to no boundaries in the pursuit of martial excellence?
The Vindicare assassin grunted as a violent blow struck him at the back of his head, breaking through the sturdy helmet and wounding him critically. He fell, instinct and training commanding his body to dive agilely across the brush and into a defensive crouch. Liivi closed his eyes, both of which were blinded momentarily from the drukhari reaver's strike, and thrust out his guns in preparation for a fight.
His chest ached as his heart relentlessly hammered against his ribcage. His wife and daughter were only a few hundred meters more from where he stood, ready for departure as soon as he could reach them. He couldn't risk dooming them to the same fate if he were caught here. No, he made that promise to himself a long time ago. They will be safe, even at the cost of his own life.
Liivi felt that warm trickle of blood oozing out of the gash on his head, that thin little stream sliding down his neck and onto his back. He braced himself as his ears warned him of an approaching band of jetbikes.
The enemy was fewer this time, their numbers cut down by his previous attempts to drive their attentions away from his family. They were few, but still a threat to take seriously.
In the latter days, Liivi relied on stealth to carry him through the missions he was tasked. Very rarely did he have to go toe to toe with the enemy like the average military grunt. Nevertheless, he was trained for situations like this. Trained to fight, and win.
"What to make of this one?" A high-pitched, whiny voice from a drukhari pirate called as he conversed with his fellows. The shrill cry of his jetbike's engines nearly drowned out his whole sentence as he circled the crouched Vindicare, like the others. "He won't do any good as a slave, much less a gladiator in the Pits!"
"Oh yes he will! We just lobotomize him, then we have a formidable soldier to help with the raids!" The answer came quickly, "Take him. Then we'll have some fun with the woman and her little one!"
One eye snapped open, and Liivi felled the last speaker of the two with a single shot, expending the last of his Exitus rifle's rounds and leaving him only with the pistol.
"Alright, new plan! We kill him, then we'll lobotomize the woman and her little one!" The first yelled, dismounting from his jetbike and brandishing hands fitted with wicked looking lightning claws. "I claim them for my bedchamber!"
Suddenly, a shaft of lightning shot out from the forest, throwing the warrior off his feet as deafening clap of thunder followed! The drukhari warrior fell to the dust, leaving his other four companions bewildered at the unexpected turn of events. Taldeer emerged from the thicket, carrying her spear in one hand and a handful of eldritch powers in the other.
"I thought you said you were just going to cripple them, dear husband." She referred to the downed Vindicare disapprovingly.
Liivi shrugged, "I got carried away."
The reavers leaped off their mounts and attacked the Farseer, screaming bloody murder as they did so. The years had not rendered Taldeer dull, as she so proved with each deft strike and parry of her spear. Her husband joined in the fight not long after, and together they repelled and dispatched the raiders for good. The bodies of the slain lay in a wide circle around the pair, and the two were left breathless and in disbelief at the swift conclusion of the ordeal. Nevertheless, Liivi was thankful it was over.
They moved back to the little ship, where Senua waited impatiently for her parents to return. Upon their arrival, she embraced her father and immediately got the first aid kit in the storage compartment. Soon, the little ship fired up its gellar field and the family was throttled through the safe passageway of the Webway.
Liivi closed his eyes as he felt his wife's tender hands slip under his mask to remove the helm, that she may inspect the gaping wound in the back of his head. He didn't feel the pain much, just the soothing touch of Taldeer as she worked to restore the ruined flesh there.
"They were close to killing you, you know." He heard her speak softly, almost as if she dreaded to say it. "Another inch and all that's left of you is a hollowed husk."
"If I hadn't bought you the time, it would be you and Senua in my place, and in worse conditions..." Liivi replied. "I'd rather die than let that happen."
"I know." Taldeer sighed, "That doesn't make it easier, though."
Liivi gazed into those sad eyes as the Farseer looked out into the stream of lights flashing outside the port window. He reached for her hand and placed it gently on his chest that she may feel the faint hammering within, "Feel that? It beats for you." He turned his head towards Senua, who was busying herself with the controls of the ship. The little girl had the knowledge, so she would have something to do in the long trip. "And for her."
"Then let it beat longer." Taldeer pleaded quietly, "Don't do that to us again. I can't bear to lose you, neither can she."
"I may not have that choice." Liivi replied with a shake of the head, "It is a promise I cannot keep."
"But try." Taldeer said as she nestled her head on his shoulder, "Just try..."
"I feel your guilt! I feel the crushing weight of your sins! You struggle too hard to hold them up! Let go, let it consume you and I promise that relief will soon follow!"
Every fight against an aspect of Chaos was like this, more than a mere struggle of arms or cross of blades and barbed taunts. It was a debate of ideals, symbols that held power more than weapons or martial prowess could ever muster. Horus was adept at it as much as he was with the spear in his hands, and so he prepared a counter-argument.
"Why should I seek relief, I a Primarch, when even the lowest of mankind's defenders refuse to back down in the face of Chaos?" Horus spun around and out of the Manreaper's reach as he threw back his answers. "As for guilt, I am human, and I do not seek perfection!" His next blow sundered Typhus' armor and opened a gash in its middle, exposing the horrid hives of the Destroyer daemon-flies within to all! Horus did not recoil at this sight, however, and blasted the foul foe with the cleansing fires of his weapon.
"Enough!" Horus declared, eager for an end to this prattle. "Let what is befouled be cleansed forever!" The eldritch energies burned out the flies as they sought escape, the flames hungrily devouring every trace of the hated enemy as Horus buried Soulrender further. Even as Typhus desperately attempted to curse Horus with such foul sorcery by the Hand of Darkness, the Lupercal merely slapped it aside as he willed his weapon to fully purge the Traveler out of existence. "Begone, spawn of the Warp!"
The remains erupted in a ball of flame, and the destroyed carcass of once-living terminator armor collapsed into an ashen heap. Upon the pile sat the Hand of Darkness, barely used since its theft from the Black Library. Typhus, thankfully, never realized its true power. The Ynnari, on the other hand, knew the risks involved but were satisfied in their decision to trust the Mon'kei on this endeavor.
Horus commanded the Nebula Gauntlet to hold the Hand of Darkness in the air, threw a casual glance at Yvraine, and motioned for her to approach. The Prophetess walked over the scorched, cleansed ground of the Terminus Est bridge and offered up her hands, covered by a shimmering misty veil of unknown origins. Horus bestowed the artifact into her care, showing a great amount of trust in the gesture, and bid her to guard it better than the last.
"Our alliance is hereby concluded." Yvrain declared, "On behalf of the Ynnari, I thank you for your aid in the retrieval of this artifact."
"Concluded?" Horus asked, just as she turned to leave with her entourage of Ynnari warriors. "Oh. A pity, I was just about warming up to you."
Yvraine threw him a puzzled stare, "You hoped for anything more?"
"Oh I don't know." Horus shrugged, "Seeing human and eldar fighting alongside each other, against a common enemy. It leaves even the most hateful mind bewildered at the possibilities." He noted Captain Galio's uncomfortable twitch as he looked away.
"Yes, it certainly does..." Yvraine echoed, lost in thought at the idea.
"I do not seek to burden you with immediate requests." Horus reassured, "Perhaps one day in the near future, if any one of us is in dire need for aid, the other would be quick to answer?"
All Ynnari warriors present snapped their heads to the response of their Prophetess, and hers drew a host of surprised gasps, whispers and an approving smirk from Farseer Eldrad. "If that day comes, it shall prove rewarding for both of us. Safe travels, Primarch."
"Likewise, Prophetess." Horus nodded.
Once the Ynnari took their leave and sped back into the Webway, the captains of the Luna Wolves Legion gathered to discuss with their Primarch about the where they stood in the current war. Half were confused whether they still should consider the eldar as enemies of mankind or potential allies to the Imperium, of whom they would give a wide berth if the latter proved true. Alas, Horus gave more questions than answers, for even he found it baffling to say the least.
"We must be wary of them, for the eldar have a lot of bad habits that they can never fully shake off." Horus replied, to most of which came from the bristling Captain Galio. Of all the captains under his command, he remained ever so stubborn at his take on the matter. He represented what the Imperium would do in the face of this decision, and so Horus let it pass. So far, Galio served him faithfully, albeit faithfully with a lot of reluctance on this particular issue.
He had no doubt Yvraine acted solely on what she felt was best for her people, which was what any good leader would do. He respected her for that, and so he gave her the benefit of the doubt. He knew she would act as honorably as the eldar nature would allow, and that was good enough. In the war against Chaos, mankind would need the aeldari people's help.
This was the start of something good, and he knew the Emperor would approve of how it turned out.
"Now that the Traveler is dead and the witches are gone, where should we head out next?" Alduin inquired.
"First, we go to Fenris to confirm the visions of the Rune Priests." Horus said as he commanded Admiral Maranda Goodwill to begin rallying the fleet for the jump. "Then we gather my brothers Guilliman and Corax for the journey into the Eye. Remember our mission and remember it well; Leman Russ is the key. Without him, we're flying blind in the Realm of Decay." He sat on the throne and motioned for Goodwill to initiate the departure sequence, "Admiral, take us out."
"At once, my lord."
They were all dead.
He was all alone, here in this godsforsaken realm of shadows, gnashing spirits and howling daemons. But where others saw themselves locked in with the foul denizens of the Warp, Leman Russ of Fenris saw it differently. The Eye had closed upon him more than what felt like ten thousand years ago, and they had no escape.
The daemons were locked in there with him.
"RAAAAAHHHH!" The barbarian king leaped onto a greater daemon's back, a khornate servant judging by the reddish hue of its skin and the prickly spires sticking out of its back. Khorne had a fetish for spikes as much as Slaanesh, he observed. Today, if there was ever a day in the Warp, he fought as a single Primarch against a horde of the War God's most powerful lesser daemons- an insult to the Fenrisian's honor, but a welcome meal to his ever-hungry and insatiable savagery.
All that fighting drove him to the brink of insanity, and he had been fighting since the day he got here. The chaotic nature of the Warp kept him from tiring out, or perhaps it was the will of Khorne that kept his body from giving out after so long? Whatever the reason, Leman wasn't in it for the battles. He was close now, very close to his goal.
The Tree of Life, the boon that would give his father everlasting life and restore the Imperium with his return, was within reach!
That is, provided that he cuts his way past the guardians standing at the gates of the Foul One's Realm. But fixed was his eyes on it, like a starved wolf on a towering moose.
He would have it, one way or another. He just needed to push further, one swing at a time.
With this in mind, to keep his sanity intact, Leman bellowed out a thundering warcry and severed the greater daemon's head from its shoulders.
Life was good.
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