Locum Ignotum Chapter 19
All across the land the golden light wavered, the eternal radiance dimming and stuttering like a malfunctioning lumen orb. For the first time shadows crept in, edging everything with a sinister countenance and heralding the end of all things. On the edge of civilisation a black cloud arose, a shifting mass of unworldly forms so dense that they blotted out the sky above. It swept over the land like an oil spill, covering everything and leaving nothing untouched.
The mass of horrors fell upon any it could find, those who had refused to evacuate or been too isolated to reach. Mercurial Daemons raced to find the rich scent of lifeblood and feast upon the souls of innocents. Farmers screamed as winged monsters fell upon them from the sky and families wept as clawed monstrosities kicked in their doors to drag them away to fates worse than death. None were spared from the darkness, nobody could hide or run from this and the slaughter was universal and complete. Ten thousand souls fell and it had been less than an hour since the first Daemon had set foot upon this land.
Even those furthest away felt the touch of dread creeping into their hearts, men and women looking to the sky with an unnameable terror. None of them understood the scale of the threat, the depth of the nightmare coming to feast upon their souls but all feared it. There was only one who understood what was happening and he was currently staggering through the streets, lurching along in his armour like a drunk.
As people ran fearfully past Librarian Arvael gripping onto a wall for support. He was a terrible sight to behold, his face running with sweat and a look of nausea screwing up his features. Arvael had been returning from a strike when the invisible tide of corruption washed over him, drowning him in its rancid filth. Arvael grimaced and forced a glut of vomit back down his throat as he staggered over to the next building, feeling like he was going to die. It was impossible for a non-psyker to understand his plight, the battle raging within his soul. For months now Arvael had enjoyed the peaceful and calm flow of empathic power this land created, like the purest mineral water on his tongue. But then some idiot had punched a hole in the walls and the rancid energies of the raw warp now flowed unfettered.
Arvael could felt the fetid energy wash over him, staining his psyche and battering at his mental walls. It was vile and reeking, the slightest touch leaving one shuddering in revulsion and disgust. It was like drinking engine oil, like being thrown into a river of stinking effluence and left to drown. The sheer shock of it had nearly broken his sanity but his training in the Librarius had taught him to fend it off, to hold it at bay and draw upon only the most miniscule drops of power.
Arvael recited litanies of abjuration as he wobbled along, closing off his mind and sealing his connection to the Warp with unbreakable psychic locks. The stinking reek of corruption faded to a dull stench but before it did so Arvael heard the chittering of immaterial voices and knew the truth: Daemons walked free here. Arvael shuddered at the very thought and knew that the situation had changed; this was no lone Neverborn but a full blown incursion. A tide of ethereal nightmares walked like men and nothing would stop them, absolutely nothing.
Arvael hurriedly opened his vox and called, "Captain Toran, this is Librarian Arvael, come in."
The vox crackled and a voice returned, "Arvael, thank the throne! I'm getting reports of a counterattack on all fronts, what the Feth is going on?"
Arvael replied, "Captain, you must pull the Company back to the shadow of the Thunderchild, pull them back now!"
"What?!" Toran barked, "The evacuation has barely begun, we have got less than one in ten of the population to safety. There hundreds of thousands of innocents still out there, if we withdraw we leave them to die."
"Captain," Arvael uttered, "The enemy has summoned a host of Daemons, its too late to stop them, they are already here."
There was a long pause at the other end of the line and then in a grim tone Toran replied, "Understood, Third Company is falling back to a defensible position now."
"Make haste," Arvael said, "I must seek wiser council."
Arvael cut off the link and moved on, some strength returning to his stride. He was greatly concerned by these events, more so than he had told Captain Toran. Arvael was acutely aware of the tension being placed upon the structure of this land, on the empathetic matrix that held it together. The whole fabric of this place was rolling and heaving around them and it defied belief that its creators would not notice.
Above all Arvael dreaded the Old Ones being stirred to action. Their power surpassed belief and there was nothing he could do to stop them should they move. The intelligence he had felt in the pit had been utterly alien, incomprehensible to him and foreign in nature. A human mind would have at least been predictable but he had no way to know how the Old Ones would react, what they would do. The only certainty was that they would respond, which was why he desperately needed to talk to Samandriel.
Finally Arvael spied the doors to the local archive and hastened to them. He pushing his way inside without pause, yet he was brought up short when he saw what awaited him. Across the bare floor was laid out a pile of bodies, men, women and children scattered everywhere, each one with their throats torn out and strewn about wherever they had happened to fall. The bodies all bore similar wounds yet there was a surprisingly small amount of blood to be seen. The work of a Daemon, Arvael concluded.
Arvael saw instantly that they had come here seeking sanctuary but been met by a monster. He pulled free his Force-Morningstar and stepped to one side, warily probing the darkness of the hall. He opened his mind a fraction and scanned ahead, seeking the spoor of a Daemon but found no traces at all. Yet he did find a single living soul, with two hearts, it seemed Samandriel had survived the attack. Arvael quickly moved towards where he detected his cousin's life-force and called, "Samandriel?"
From the shadows a voice arose, "I know you're there but I need it, I need it all."
"Samandriel?" Arvael repeated cautiously but words failed him when he saw what was lurking there.
Samandriel was crouched over a pile of bodies, naked and hunched over like some macabre vulture. He gripped a cooling body in his hands, with its throat torn out, one more among dozens. Samandriel's chin was covered in gore, a trail of blood so thick that it was practically black and his eyes burned with the intensity of the truly insane. Samandriel's mad eyes fixed upon Arvael and his mouth opened, revealing long fangs jutting from his gums as he hissed, "Blood… must have blood!"
Arvael was shocked into stillness and in that moment Samandriel pounced, surging at him like a great predator. Arvael didn't even have time to respond as a great weight slammed into him and a hand swung at his face. Black nails extended out wards like claws and tore his brow, spilling rich transhuman blood into his eyes. Arvael instinctively fell back, blinking to clear the blood from his eyes but another blow rocked him as Samandriel chased him. The Librarian desperately drew upon the Warp and formed a wave of telekinetic power, throwing his opponent away. Arvael saw his cousin hit the floor but Samandriel instantly roll back to his feet, crouching low like a spider.
Arvael kept a Kine shield up before him and circled right as he said, "Samandriel, you're possessed. The power, you weren't expecting it, it caught you off guard. Something's got into your mind; you have to cast it out!"
However Samandriel hissed, "Your words mean nothing Horus, I saw the way open and I have come for your head. You shall not harm our Father."
Arvael was confused by that, Samandriel didn't seem to know where he was. What sort of madness was gripping him? Before he could work it out Samandriel leapt, smashing into the Kine shield. The madman crashed right through it, a feat that must have caused him depthless pain but he seemed not to feel it. Arvael lashed out with his weapon but the blow rolled off Samandriel as if it was nothing, it was like he could feel no pain.
Arvael felt fists battering at his armour and struggled to fight back, hitting out with knees and elbows but making no impression. In return Samandriel fought like a berserker, holding nothing back as he battered at the ceramite armour. Arvael had no doubt that his plate was the only thing keeping him alive and without it he would already be dead. Arvael reached out with his telekinesis and grabbed a foot-long shard of wood with his mind. He levitated it and then hurled it at Samandriel's back, plunging it in like a knife. The madman at last felt something and howled as he lurched back. He reached behind him and pulled out the shard, snarling, "Your legions may batter at the walls of the Palace, traitor but I am undaunted. The way is open and I am free."
Arvael gathered his power and charged forward; swinging his Morningstar and Samandriel met him head on. They met in a thunderous crash, exchanging blows faster than a mortal eye could follow. Arvael was armoured and armed but Samandriel was inhumanly strong and ferocious. In moments Arvael had been overpowered, thrown to the floor as Samandriel stood over him snarling, "I shall present Rogal with your head on a pike."
Arvael looked up at his cousin and saw no trace of the noble sage he had known. For a moment Arvael brushed the madman's mind with his own and was shocked by what he found there. Samandriel's mind was lost in a sea of black rage, twinned with a terrible thirst for blood, but neither was foreign to him. This madness came from within, not without. It was born from his gene-seed, as intrinsic to him as his enhanced muscles. This had always been within Samandriel, just waiting to be let out.
Arvael looked up at his fallen kin and knew there was no hope of recovery here; Samandriel was truly cursed, utterly lost in his insanity. With grim resolution the librarian opened his mental locks and drew upon his power, forming it into a razor-sharp blade of thought. This was far draining than foccussing his power through a weapon but it was all he had left. Samandriel was leaning down; opening his mouth to reveal his fangs but Arvael was ready and with a cry of defiance drove the telekinetic blade upwards. Arvael felt muscles and bone part before his telekinetic blade and he pushed harder, penetrating the thick ribcage. He focussed his will and his unyielding resolution as he thrust ever deeper and drove the blade right into Samandriel's twin hearts.
The organs quivered under the force as Arvael twisted his thoughts, ripping the hearts apart from the inside out. Samandriel froze in shock as he felt his life being cut off and he swayed drunkenly for a momen, then he toppled like a great tree. Life faded from his eyes and he hissed one last time, "The way is open…"
Silence fell and Arvael flopped back, exhausted and sickened in equal measure. His blood poured from his wounds, even as his Larraman cells fought to stem the tide. He was shocked and appalled by what he had seen, by the glimpse of the curse locked within Samandriel's genes. Had the warrior known this was within him, Arvael wondered, had he been fighting to suppress it all along or had it struck out of nowhere? Slowly Arvael forced himself to his feet and stepped back, then he walked away. He had no words for what had just happened and needed time to process it, he couldn't even look at the bodies all around, so sickened was he. He was half-way to the door when he froze, remembering Samandriel's last words and their meaning hit him, Arvael gasped, "The way is open!"
Then he was running out of the doors desperately trying his vox. He had to reach Captain Toran and tell him: Chaos had opened a door but doors swung two ways. If Chaos could get in then they could get out.
