Loki wasn't wrong, but he also wasn't quite right.
Tzeentch and God, individually, would have been unable to pluck the command protocols from the mind of a slumbering Phaeron. That was a true miracle, a great feat of magic beyond most others, even given a raging Warp Storm in the area to assist. Tzeentch and God were characterized as omniscient, and that was true in some ways, but teasing out the threads of the future was quite different from plucking out a hidden secret. Orikan would have understood.
However, in the incredibly rare occasion that Tzeentch and the Abrahamic God worked together, things changed. The combination of those two forces created something that was almost truly omniscient and omnipresent. Omnipotent? No… but far too close for comfort. That was part of the reason Tzeentch did not devour the Abrahamic God… then the great game might end, and that was the last thing he wanted.
So together, they plucked the keys to a Dynasty from the mind of a Phaeron and gave them to Ishtar. And now, it was time for her to fulfill her end of the bargain.
A small group of cultists had been left behind. Their deaths faked, with the help of a certain Cryptek, their identities erased from all records. Five mutants, all of them strong and terrible, and one beautiful priestess. Tall and proud, she walked through the central plaza of Hemingway, flanked by her mutant bodyguard. A heavy cloak disguised her form.
When she reached the centre of the plaza, a great mosaic of tiles that secretly formed a dark and profane symbol, she stopped and dropped her cloak. That attracted immediate attention, for she was wearing almost nothing. Only a long, filmy white skirt, caught at the waist with a woven golden belt. Her entire body was bedecked with gold and her face was bedazzled with fine makeup, her hair done in a beautiful, flowing style. It was the care a woman would take for her wedding day, which was a not inaccurate comparison.
"Inanna! Ishtar! Inanna!" She lifted her arms and called upon her Goddess. Then she began to sing in a dead language, unheard since the ancient days of humanity. But her Goddess remembered, and had taught her followers the proper methods of her worship.
The humans around her were beginning to realize something was horribly wrong. Women with children were grabbing them and hurrying away while many were calling for the authorities. Strong young men wanted to intervene, but the mutants were fully armed and ready to kill. They had arrayed themselves around the priestess, protecting the ritual.
The authorities began to arrive but it was already too late. At the culmination of the ritual, the priestess cut her own throat. There were screams from those still watching as she held out her arms, singing Ishtar's praises as the blood cascaded down her chest. Then she slipped to her knees before sliding to the ground, as death claimed her.
The blood slid in a way that disregarded natural laws, adhering to the pattern of the tiles. The godly sacrifice, the voluntary death of a truly devout priestess, was all that was needed and above the tiles the Warp Rift began to form as the real screaming began.
The Warp Rift was a direct window into the Immaterium. Loki could have looked at it perfectly safely, enraptured by what, to him, would be great beauty. Manric could have withstood it although it would have been difficult for him. Imotekh, with his rare mind, would have survived although been absolutely repulsed. For the regular humans still in the square, most of them went mad. They turned on each other in an orgy of insane violence and while the mutants were unaffected, due to Ishtar's grace, they had a difficult time defending themselves. And then Chaos began to spill through.
Chaos spawns, mutants and all the lesser armies of Chaos spilled out like pus from a wound. To those with knowledge, it was particularly terrifying because they were of all factions… it was rare for all of the Ruinous Powers to work together. This was Chaos Undivided and they were here for a purpose.
As Lorgar stepped through the portal, he carefully stepped over the fallen priestess, not sparing her a thought. Although he did vaguely notice that all of the Chaos spawn and daemons were avoiding the corpse, likely because of the powerful touch of Ishtar. If he had looked back, he would have seen the corpse stir and sit up. Tzeentch and God had both foreseen this, and God found it unfavorable but was willing to tolerate it. Tzeentch heartily approved, as it would increase Lorgar's chances of survival significantly and he still had use for the Chaos Primarch.
All was going according to plan.
Although he would never say it, Imotekh was actually fairly pleased with Loki and Calder.
They were exactly as he'd expected from Manric's description. A high energy, slightly foolish but very bright Warrior and his down to earth companion. Loki was clearly on his best behavior, Imotekh was sure that he would normally be far more talkative, but for now he knew to keep his mouth shut except when he had something of value to say. Imotekh had checked their personnel files and knew that Loki was over a hundred years old, quite old for a pwi-necron. Likely he had learned restraint the hard way.
Loki was also a treasure trove of random information, gleaned from his great love of reading. Imotekh knew this well… he'd actually been similar, when he was young and drunk on knowledge, newly taught to read and taking in every piece of fiction to cross his hands. It had been a long time since his mind had been like that and Imotekh almost mourned the loss. He had been forced by circumstances to abandon that obsession, and now it was much too late. He still enjoyed fictional works, but now his standards were much higher.
Imotekh was also grimly pleased with the results of the investigation. He understood completely what had happened, now. Loki's rendition of the Crypteks was accurate… there were those among them who chafed at their limitations. Imotekh understood that, but did not sympathize with it. There was honor in serving well, no matter how humble your position might be. There was no honor in sacrificing the good of the Dynasty for your personal ambitions.
That was precisely what had happened and Sally's story was incredibly valuable at zeroing in on the culprit. If the 'lover of Ishtar' was literal, not figurative, Imotekh could narrow his focus to three particular Crypteks. All psykers, who had taken the new modifications. For a moment, Imotekh thought about that… they had decided not to make those upgrades available to the Immortals, Deathmarks and common warriors. However, Crypteks were a kind of unofficial nobility and they installed the upgrades, so it was decided they should have access. Either a reward for good work or something they could pay for, from their personal fortunes, they could have the upgrade if they wished. Most did not, content with their bodies as they were.
The suspects were one pwi-necron and two normal necrons. Imotekh carefully examined the pwi-necron but after reviewing contacts with the planet, his focus quickly shifted to a necron Cryptek by the name of Penemun. He'd had extensive contact with the planet and Imotekh noticed that at a certain point, contacts with the planet from the other two necrons also increased. But Penemun was the first. Imotekh sent a query to the networks, requesting additional information on this Cryptek, full personality profile and history. He also requested the other two, just to be sure, but he strongly believed he had found the source of the infection.
As they waited for the records to come in, as well as some other requests, Imotekh observed Ke'yanakh talking with Loki, taking him into a deep scholarly discussion about Ishtar. A lot of details that were completely useless for their investigation, but still interesting… Imotekh formed an impression of an extremely willful, arrogant creature that was nonetheless quite powerful. She could usually back up her arrogance, although she had a few spectacular failures.
"What other mythologies and legends do you know?" Ke'yanakh asked and Loki's eyes seemed to glow, more than usual. Calder made glyphs of resignation and amusement.
"My god, how long do you have sir? Loki reads literally everything. I think his collection of ancient myths from ancient Asia and Africa is quite impressive, that's not Hopian culture so he had to work hard to gather those up." Loki was ignoring his friend, pulling out his datapad and quickly tapping on it.
"Well Norse mythology is my specialty sir, but you can see the other categories and the red lines underneath tell you how far along I am reading the book. Oh, and the ones I've starred are the books I've had in physical form and had to give up, so if there's a star I've read it, probably twice." Loki offered Ke'yanakh the datapad and he took it, scrolling through it. "I think that's the easiest way to show you what I know… I've got everything neatly organized, see." Ke'yanakh paused at one particular spot before making a glyph for surprise.
"The War in Heaven, but you have other works?" Eh? Imotekh didn't think there was anything else, not using the contemporary necron language. It had been codified by the Silent King, everything earlier would be more difficult for an outsider to decipher. Even other necrons could have difficulty. "The poem of Ankal'sha… you actually do seem to be reading it?" Loki made a glyph poem about persistence against all odds.
"It's really hard sir! I asked a Cryptek for recommendations, and he also gave me some supplemental works to try and learn the older glyphs. They are – " Loki stopped dead, his eyes going dim. Manric started, looking around like he had heard someone shout. "Oh no. Oh no. Nonononono!" Loki abruptly turned and lunged towards him, surprising Imotekh to the point that he held out a hand to stop the errant warrior. "Stormlord sir, left is right, up is down and the potion can make you big or small and it's happening RIGHT NOW! Right now sir!" Imotekh could easily recognize the panic and see that Manric was preoccupied with something. Deep worry prickled his mind as he grasped Loki's shoulder.
"Calm yourself. Explain. What is wrong?" he demanded, and Loki made a sound like a teakettle. Calder grasped his other shoulder.
"Loki, use your words!" he demanded and that broke through his friend's panic. Loki jerked before managing to spit out the real message.
"Chaos rift! Warp rift! Here and now and it's BIG sir! Army big! Chaos invasion happening RIGHT NOW!" Imotekh stared for a split second before entering the command net. Alarms WERE starting to go off and human klaxons began to blare. Manric stretched out a hand, pointing in a particular direction.
"That direction and far too close. It's not right on top of us, but perhaps ten kilometers." Imotekh took in that information even as the drop pods began to deploy and he took personal command of the human PDF, giving them orders that he trusted would be obeyed. He would command the defense of this planet personally.
Civilians were evacuated as they could, but Imotekh knew that millions would be lost. They could do nothing for them, as barricades were thrown up and buildings were used as part of the defensive lines. Drop pods came in hard and fast, to reinforce the wavering PDF forces. They were not bad, as PDF forces went, but they were not superhumans like the Astartes nor hardened by war like the Guard. Expecting them to handle the forces of the Warp alone was asking too much.
The addition of necrons stiffened their spines, and gave them hard support. Doom Scythes blazed through the air and Imotekh vaguely noticed Ke'yanakh doing what he could, taking over the civilian evacuation, which had been falling into disorder. He would get that taken care of. Manric was holding back, remaining by his side?
Why are you not entering the battlefield? Imotekh asked him with a small portion of his mind.
I believe this attack is aimed at you, in particular. It is all too easy to anticipate that you would come to investigate Ishtar's actions. Imotekh wanted to curse, that he had been so predictable, but he knew Manric was right. Forgive me, I must remain by your side. Your life is more valuable than this entire planet.
Very well. Imotekh hated it, but Manric was right and he would accept him as a Vargard, for now. Normally he spurned such things but this strike could indeed be a massive assassination attempt and while he was a hard target, he was not an impossible one. And Warp powers could cause recall failures.
Manric's wisdom was proven as before the entire force in orbit could come down, a vicious assault was launched on his command position. Imotekh could recognize the forces of the Word Bearers, the Chaos Marines of Chaos Undivided. And at their head was their Daemon Primarch. Lorgar Aurelian, fanatic of Chaos, was a ghastly looking creature. Immensely large and distorted by Chaos, his armor festooned with fetishes and symbols of the dark gods. Imotekh was vaguely aware of Loki and Calder fighting together as a team, employing power weapons, and Manric slicing through enemies as he joined the battlefield himself. He would meet this challenger head on, despite the danger, and count on Manric to have his back.
Then Lorgar lifted his fist and blue light erupted from it. Cold and pure and giving a strange impression of order, it flowed outwards and froze everyone in place. Imotekh could not move and with his incredible processing ability, he recognized that this was similar to a Chronomancer manipulating time, but done via Warp abilities. Not a physical restraint at all, they were all frozen in time.
/Imotekh the Stormlord, I bear the word of God/ Lorgar's voice was amplified by destiny, echoing with godly force. Imotekh was not impressed, he'd heard the C'Tan speak in such ways before. Yet, he was forced to listen. /God commands you to take Szarekh alive/ WHAT?! /Only he can use the Pariah Nexus. Only he possesses the Command Codes of the great Blackstone. Take him alive, promise him life in exile, and honor for his Dynasty. Use the Nexus to amplify the voices of the aeldari. Threaten the Tyranids with the closing of the Eye of Isha, the end of the Warp. Tell them that if they do not depart this galaxy, you will end all life, then use the Nexus to give them a taste of oblivion. You will panic them and they will decide this galaxy is no longer worth having, departing to find more fertile grounds. This is God's command to you/ The blue light faded and Imotekh's mind filled with an unfathomable rage.
There was no logic or real thought in his mind at that moment. Images of Khamus as a child, a young man, an adult by his side filled his mind. The moment of his death, as the machine he had become was forced to kneel before him and Imotekh struck the head from his shoulders, all unknowing. The rage was utterly breathtaking, at the thought that there would be no vengeance for that. The thought that the ultimate author of his pain would go unpunished.
Imotekh attacked Lorgar with what, for him, was a berserker rage. Even in the grip of immense fury he still employed his tactical mind, evaluating Lorgar's style and abilities and adjusting, but that was the only logic involved. He cared for nothing but destroying the creature who had dared utter those words. Lorgar grinned as their weapons crossed and green light blazed against red, fanning Imotekh's rage.
That grin abruptly disappeared as wings of light crossed their vision and a glowing spear clashed with his hammer. Imotekh adjusted himself with consummate skill, double teaming the Daemon Primarch and while it was annoying that Lorgar seemed to take Manric more seriously than himself, it was fine to feel that he had the upper hand.
Other Word Bearers tried to interfere and paid for it with their lives. One, a younger one, survived by pure cleverness and Imotekh noted him in particular, yet paid him no true mind as Calder and Loki moved to engage him. All of his attention was on the focus of his rage.
The battle raged back and forth. Imotekh could not know, but Lorgar was now trying to figure out how to disengage and take his forces back into the Warp without getting absolutely mauled by the necrons. More forces were coming down from the fleet, so the situation was getting progressively worse for him. Lorgar wanted to use the chaos spawns and lesser demons to cover their retreat, but he could not extricate himself and even if he were to order them, his sons would not leave him behind.
The end of the battle came with brutal suddenness, as Lorgar tried to employ his psyker abilities and failed spectacularly. It really shouldn't have been that way, and Lorgar would be puzzled by it later but attribute it entirely to the (horrible) revelation that the necrons had a shard of Sanguinius and were fully using it. He would never realize that there was something else in play, in the form of a powerful and erratic psyker who was actively rejecting all the chaos around him and thus, nullifying it. Loki wasn't aware of what he was doing either, he was just trying to make sense of what was happening around him and that was easier if it wasn't so complicated.
Manric and Imotekh took full advantage of the lapse. Imotekh unleashed his staff and Lorgar just barely managed to counter it, but that left him open to Manric's spear. Manric could have ended his life, but chose not to, slamming down the Chaos Primarch instead and snugly fitting the tip of his spear beneath his chin. And as he did, he spoke to Imotekh via interstitial messaging.
My people having a saying, Stormlord. Do not kill the messenger. I believe this is a true message from God and he showed great courage in delivering it. If you wish, I will end his life but I believe his courage deserves acknowledgement. Imotekh's eyes flared and his hand tightened on his staff. Lorgar stayed completely still, sensing that the weapon in Manric's hands was the thing that could claim not just his life but his essence, his soul.
For a moment, things hung in the balance. Imotekh recognized the fairness and honor of Manric's request, but his rage was unfathomably deep. Also, it would be wise of him to disregard fairness, even if they could only banish Lorgar for a thousand years. A Daemon Primarch was nothing to toy with.
For a moment, the decision hung in the balance but they would never know what the outcome would have been. Because Tzeentch had rolled the dice of fate, and they came up in his favor.
Manric looked sharply aside and so did Lorgar, suddenly heedless of the spear against his throat. A woman was walking towards them. The chaos of battle stilled around her, all warriors she passed turning to look at her in awe, caught by her aura of godly radiance. Naked but for a long, filmy white skirt, she was adorned with precious gold and her face was beautiful beyond words, decorated with flamboyant makeup. Great golden horns adorned her head and her hair flowed behind her in a spectral wind. Her eyes glowed brilliant blue, the fires of the Warp.
She had eyes only for Imotekh and approached him with a mysterious smile on her lips. Manric sensed a much greater danger approaching and disengaged from the Daemon Primarch to face her. And she truly was a greater threat… not quite on the level of a Ruinous Power, no, but she was still a goddess. Divinity radiated from her, capricious yet compelling. Imotekh turned to meet her, hostility in every line of his body and the way his eyes flared. He recognized what she had to be, and Isthar's theft from him was a great affront to his Dynasty and his might as a Phaeron. He was more than willing to meet her assault head on.
But someone else had other ideas.
"No you don't!" Loki jumped in front of Imotekh. He hadn't brought his gauss flayer, because this was not supposed to be a combat situation, but he had brought his cross, tucked away against his necrodermis. It had his pendant of Yggdrasil, glittering on the black of the cross as he held it up to ward off the goddess. Ishtar paused to regard Loki like some unsavory insect, while Imotekh irritably tried to push him aside… yet found he oddly couldn't. Instead of the harsh gesture he intended, his action was involuntarily gentled and his hand just touched the rogue Warrior.
"I order you to step aside, and I will deal with you later for your insubordination," Imotekh growled at Loki. Yet he was completely undeterred.
"You don't understand sir! She doesn't want to fight you, she wants to fuck you!" What? "I know what she's up to and I won't let her sir!"
"You speak nonsense. I do not even have that upgrade," Imotekh said, although he was aware that he was planning to get it soon. Udjemka had approached him and they had lightly engaged in the ancient courtship rituals of the necrontyr. Imotekh found it quite charming… yet what did that have to do with this? Even if he had those upgrades, why would the goddess desire such a thing? Did she think she could corrupt him? What a laughable thought!
/To you mortals, time is a straight arrow, a river flowing only one way/ Imotekh's mind hurt, listening to her. Her voice was almost unbearable, a chorus of voices, all of them female and throbbing with alien desires. /It is anything but to me, and what will be done has been done and what has been done will be done. Great King, I - / Ishtar started but Loki interrupted. And while his voice did not have the resonance of Ishtar's and should have been easily drown out by her godly sound, it wasn't. Imotekh could only assume that was his psyker abilities at work.
"NO YOU DON'T! Get thee hence, whore!" Loki shoved his cross at her and she was starting to look angry indeed. Yet, for some reason she did not strike at him. "She's trying to make you Gilgamesh sir! She doesn't want you to say yes, she wants you to say no so she can summon the Bull in Heaven!" Imotekh's mind went to the legends Loki had told them. So she was trying to fulfill the conditions to complete a great summoning? Imotekh hated Warp sorcery with all his being, but he could see how that might work. "She's putting Manric into the role of Enkidu! She means to kill him sir!"
"Clever. That would work…" Why was the Daemon Primarch still here and alive? Imotekh made a mental note to kill him if he didn't have the decency to slink off. Ishtar's eyes narrowed and Imotekh could feel nothing, he wasn't a psyker, but he saw Loki pushed back like he was standing in a gale. His feet dug into the ground as he struggled to maintain his balance and his cross began to glow with soft blue light, while the pendant on it had a greenish hue.
/How do you think to stop me, you tiny thing?/ Ishtar asked, looking at Loki like she was thinking of upgrading him from an insect to a minor threat. Loki hesitated a moment before squaring his shoulders.
"If you're trying to start a story, I can start one too. How would you like to meet your sister again?" Loki asked and Ishtar frowned, a slight pout of her perfect lips.
/Ereshkigal is long dead, devoured by Nurgle. What nonsense do you speak?/ Yet there was a trace of unease in her voice. A sense that perhaps, just perhaps, this was not an idle threat. Loki nodded.
"I know. That's going to make this very, very dangerous. But losing all of Hemingway to Nurgle as a Daemon planet is better than losing Manric, so God help me I'm going to do it." What?! Manric might have intervened, but it was already too late as reality began to shift.
The ground became dark and parched, untouched by the slightest hint of moisture. Cracks spread through it with lightning speed, the footing becoming treacherous. The light of the sun dimmed and a mist sprang up, but not any normal phenomenon… it was like living darkness, flowing through the air and caressing the skin with an icy chill. Pillars of stone suddenly erupted from the ground, sending dirt flying and Imotekh noted that they appeared to be real, if that word could be applied to any of this. Little will-o-the-wisps of blue started to form and Ishtar took a step back, her expression unchanged but her eyes widening slightly.
Then she whirled as the gates began to form. Slowly appearing out of the air, they were dark stone and silver. Covered in deeply etched symbols, the handles were silver bones. Beside the gate stood two dark, shrouded forms and Imotekh could easily recognize that they were meant to represent the Nightbringer. The primitive humans who had imagined them hadn't known that, but it mattered nothing, his presence was etched into their collective subconsciousness and infected all of their death myths.
Two hooded heads lifted and eyes of blue fire illuminated the dark haze. Hands of bone reached out, stretching towards the handles of the door and Ishtar abruptly panicked.
/Enough! I believe you! I will depart!/ she said, all the voices that made up her greater voice carrying a keen of fear. /Wretched creature, what are you? I will not forget this!/ She gave Loki a quick stare of hatred, before her body abruptly lost it's godly lustre and collapsed. A great wound opened on the throat, drained of blood and Imotekh saw the body she had been possessing was a corpse.
That left the gates still intact and the attention of the two figures switched to Loki. The psyker was shaking, still holding his cross outstretched and Imotekh did not dare to say a word. Nor did Manric, as they sensed a titanic battle happening beneath the surface.
"No you don't… no you don't…" Loki muttered as bony hands twitched towards the handles of the gate. They so dearly wanted to open it, and unleash the horrors within. "I'm Loki and I say this is not time for Ragnarok, we're not doing this today!" He set himself, engaging in a deep battle of wills. With a feeling of great reluctance, the hands pulled back and the two cloaked figures settled beside the door. Then the door slowly vanished, dissipating as sunlight returned.
Loki abruptly collapsed, falling directly onto his face with a clatter of metal and Imotekh ran a diagnostic, detecting near-lethal levels of heat. He summoned the Crypteks as he evaluated the battlefield… to his irritation yet relief, the Daemon Primarch was gone and had taken his Chaos Marines with him. All the Greater Daemons as well, all the powerful units, were retreating back into the Chaos Rift and allowing the Chaos spawns and lesser daemons to cover their retreat. It wasn't quite over but it would be soon, apparently their only mission here had been to deliver their message. Imotekh felt deep rage and resentment as he thought about that, but he knew what he had to do… he had to give this information to Orikan the Diviner and see if it was true. And if it was, he would have to make a choice.
Imotekh hated it with all his soul, but he knew what that choice would be. As much as it hurt, the dead could not take precedence over the living.
