Galmakh was not expecting Imotekh to launch an assault on Dhol VI.
It was simply an absurd thing to do. Like any Crownworld, Dhol VI was monstrously defended, with great fixed defenses as well as the bulk of his armada. The Crownworld itself swarmed with necrons, easily a trillion of them. What madness would it be, to attack such a place after a mere raid for transpositanium? While Imotekh was preparing for battle with Szarekh? Why would he do such a thing?
So when the alarms went off and Galmakh saw Imotekh's forces heading towards his world, he stared in simple puzzlement. Had the Stormlord gone mad? And why had Anhu not warned him? Then Imotekh glided up to the first fixed emplacements and they did not fire!
"What is this?! WHAT IS THIS?!" Galmakh exploded in rage, stalking towards the great tactical screens. "Who has done this?" Treachery. And there was only one person who could ultimately be behind it. "Anhu. You have turned on me?!" Galmakh's rage was beyond human understanding. If Anhu had been in front of him, he would not have been killed immediately, but tortured and defiled in terrible ways. Of course, the great Chronomancer knew that and was hidden away in his sanctum. Even the Phaeron could not reach him. Someone has sabotaged the fixed defenses!
Then, even worse. Galmakh's forces behaved like they were leaderless as several ships within their forces abruptly began firing on them. Galmakh himself was an incredibly fine ground commander but not nearly as good at Naval matters, so he had delegated a great naval commander, Overlord Remula. She was one of his greatest treasures, a mere commoner born into the Naval caste that he had elevated for her skill. And one of the ships that had turned upon them was hers!
"Remula! What is the meaning of this? You betray Novokh for Sautekh? You betray me for the Stormlord?" Galmakh demanded, broadcasting his voice to everyone.
I am sorry Phaeron. I deeply regret the necessity of my actions. Came the soft reply before communications cut off, completely sealed. Galmakh swore and tried to sort out the command structure, even as Imotekh's forces struck deep. The problem was the designated successor to Remula had ALSO turned! Anhu had planned this well!
Galmakh spared a brief moment to block Remula and the other traitors from the recall facilities. Without that, they would certainly die and they deserved it. But he found his Phaeron's authority denied, to his utter fury. Anhu you bastard! But of course there were Crypteks who had turned against him. Far from all of them, or this would be over already, but they had taken over the recall facilities. He could not deny the traitors their recall.
Everything is going wrong. Am I fated to die today? Galmakh had never, in his wildest nightmares, imagined such a disaster. Although with Anhu turned against him it all made sense. He had placed perfect trust in the great Chronomancer, to have it betrayed was utterly devastating. Then his personal Lychguard, numbering six, came to full alert and moved to defend him as the doors to his inner sanctum opened. Only three Overlords entered and one of them was quite surprising, even now!
"Ah, Intenshet, are you holding a grudge?" Galmakh switched to mirth with mercurial swiftness. Ah, but this was funny and perhaps he did deserve it! The Psychomancers should still have been mildly torturing Intenshet, had they turned upon him too? "Do you think the three of you can kill me?" Galmakh was confident he could take all three of these fools himself. What were they planning?
"No, Phaeron. We are here to fight your Lychguard so you may fight with Imotekh himself," Intenshet said and Galmakh cocked his head to one side. A curious notion.
"Why should I allow this?" he asked. Intenshet had a surprisingly good answer.
"Would you not like to see your Lychguard in battle again? And I know you want to tell the Stormlord what you truly think of him. You've wanted that for a very, very long time." Ah. AH! He was right! Galmakh laughed, a wild scream of machinery.
"You are so right!" Telling Imotekh exactly what he thought of him was a great dream of his! Ah, the Stormlord was a brilliant fool and Galmakh so wanted to rub his face in it! And was that not the best thing to do before he died?! "My Lychguard, show me your skill against these fools!" Then Galmakh settled back to just watch.
The conflict that followed was truly awe inspiring. The Lychguard were the absolute cream of the crop, the very best of the Immortals, elevated because of their great skill. However, Overlord like Intenshet were also phenomenal, all veterans of the War in Heaven with great victories behind them. Who would not want to see them fight? Ah, it was incredible!
Galmakh watched all of it with rapt attention, making note of any truly good moments. Ah, Overlord Horekhet had a moment of brilliance there, tricking two of the Lychguard and decapitating one, although he'd taken a bad wound in the process! Lychguard Aranu pressed his advantage, one of the others moving to support him. Galmakh noticed that the Lychguard were acting as a unit but the Overlords were not. But then, they were all commanders from different units, they would not know each other well enough for effective teamwork. A grave disadvantage here and Galmakh had decided the Lychguard would ultimately win.
He was correct, although the Overlords did excellently well. They eliminated four of his Lychguard before the last was brought down. Ah, he would have to congratulate Intenshet after this, he'd done a fine job! Galmakh was so amused that he decided he would not even punish his traitorous Overlord too much. Perhaps he would put him to a bit of gladiatorial combat before forcing stronger loyalty protocols upon him? That sounded good and Intenshet wouldn't even mind, they all adored combat more than anything. That was the way of Novokh! Galmakh briefly checked the progress of the ground invasion and saw that all the defenses of Dhol had been compromised there, too. In fact it was worse, some of their own Canoptek devices, the great defenses of a Crownworld, had turned upon the Warriors! None of the Warriors were compromised, but the Crypteks could not reach them as easily.
"Ah, what am I thinking? I shall not be in any position to punish Intenshet!" Truly, his own end was nigh. If Anhu had control of the recall facilities, he could deny Galmakh himself recall! A wild joy filled his mind at the thought. How long had it been, since he had truly fought for his life, with no hope for revival if he fell? Ah, sixty million years!
Galmakh observed Imotekh, flanked by Orikan the Diviner and a strange Cryptek he did not know, coming for his throne room. After a moment's thought, he decided to allow them passage, ordering nothing to interfere. He had one ace up his sleeve, as the humans would say. But should he play it? Ah, should he play it? The Sautekh and the traitors would kill him anyway, but would it be fun?
Imotekh entered his Throne room, all cold steel and icy energy. His eyes glowed and he was ready for battle, but Galmakh was not impressed, no he was not! He spared a brief glance for the strange Cryptek and found her confusing. A very low ranked Cryptek of female design? What was this here for? Then he put it out of mind.
"Galmakh. I have come to put an end to your insanity. Stand down, and we need go no further," Imotekh rumbled and what an idiotic thing to say! Although perhaps the Stormlord felt that he had to try.
"And deprive myself of this moment? NEVER!" Galmakh said before saying the words he'd wanted to say for sixty million years. Oh, he'd been waiting for this! "Imotekh the Stormlord, you are the greatest of strategic geniuses, the finest mind our people have ever produced! But you are not our greatest master of war!" Imotekh's eyes flared but Galmakh was not done. "You are very good, but you are not great! I, the Moon Killer, am more skillful! The Crimson Scythe is more skillful! Xun'bakyr as well! If he had not already been weakened fighting Ultis, Laaror would have slain you!" Oh, it felt so good to say this! "You are deluded and if you dare to face me, I shall have your head!" Galmakh was confident of it. He was no mere human, who could be outfoxed by Imotekh's phase generator and stymied by his regeneration! Oh no, he was not! Imotekh's eyes were blazing and his posture showed his rage.
"You will pay for those word," he said and Galmakh noticed that was not the same as you are wrong. Did some part of the Stormlord know he was not all that? But he did not care, it was time to teach him a lesson!
The clash as they met threw sparks in the air and Galmakh mentally ordered his Lychguard to stay out of it. Orikan shielded the strange Cryptek, he noticed, as they both hung back as well. This would be a battle of Phaerons. Galmakh's Blood Scythe could not drain blood from Imotekh, but the starmetal alloys it was forged with had a knack for penetrating the phase generator. Galmakh personally disdained such things, using only his very fine body and his Scythe.
That great Blood Scythe could also function as a shield and Galmakh spun it adroitly as Imotekh tried to unleash the power of his gauntlet. The fire splashed away in dangerous streams and the remaining Lychguard moved adroitly to avoid it as Orikan did something arcane with time, slowing the stream to a crawl so he and the female could leisurely move aside. The beauty of his throne room was obliterated, trophies going up in flames, but Galmakh did not care. All he cared about was the joy of the battle as he went on the offensive.
Imotekh was good, so good, and they clashed over and over. But the Stormlord just wasn't quite good enough and Galmakh slashed through his shoulder, his Scythe finding a flaw in the phase generator. The semephron weave could not hold against the brutal strength of the Phaeron of Novokh and Imotekh's arm fell away. He'd need a bit of help reattaching that, oh yes he would! And now his fire gauntlet was gone! Galmakh began to press harder, utter joy filling his mind. This was fun!
"Why do you not blast me with lightning, Stormlord? Are you afraid to use it in such a confined space?" Galmakh taunted, aware that was exactly the problem. Imotekh's command of the storms was best used in the open air. Imotekh said nothing, just focusing with iron resolve as he compensated for his lost arm and blocked every strike, seeking his own openings.
Galmakh had a change of heart then. He'd been having fun and considering sparing Imotekh's life, in a sense – he would 'kill' him and send him for recall – but now it was unsatisfactory. No, if he was to die, he should take the Stormlord with him. A purely poisonous, malicious joy, a pleasure in suffering filled his mind. Ah, Imotekh would suffer, he would suffer greatly for this! And even if Galmakh did not see it he would enjoy the rotten yet ever so sweet thought that the Stormlord would be doomed to a hideous end, all by his will and his hand! Twisting his Blood Scythe, Galmakh prepared to make the correct strike. There would be a moment –
/No/ Galmakh abruptly stumbled as all his joints turned against him, freezing up against his will. Imotekh's staff rammed in him, doing terrible damage even as Galmakh struggled valiantly against a strange and powerful force. What was this? Turning his head felt like he was moving a mountain, but he did to look at Orikan and the strange female Cryptek. Her hand was held out, palm towards him and she was wearing blackstone?
"Imotekh, you have cheated," Galmakh said, a touch stunned as he looked down at his body. His chest was so badly damaged, flux was outgassing, and it was all because of that alien force. Imotekh should have lost.
"We both know that the only fairness in this universe is what we make for ourselves. And you deserve only the chaos you have sown," Imotekh said before lashing out a final time. There was a brutal crunch inside his chest, as the precise strike went through the already damaged mechanisms and into his core, obliterating critical structures. To Galmakh's vague surprise, he registered that he was still connected to recall just before his mind began protectively shutting down. Just before he recalled, he wondered.
What had that strange power been?
For Imotekh, the battle to take Dhol VI was extremely difficult.
Galmakh had a different perspective on it, but he saw all the things going wrong and how his forces were coming to pieces. What Imotekh saw was a force that was vastly superior to his own, well trained and disciplined with excellent equipment. If not for the treachery from within, the Stormlord could not have done it. Even as it was, it was a struggle, but a beautiful one. Imotekh revelled in using his skill to the fullest, the need to use every bit of his strategic brilliance to secure the victory.
Galmakh's words before their duel rankled Imotekh to the very depths of his soul but some small part of his mind acknowledged that they were, indeed, true. The Moon Killer was a rare monster and Imotekh simply was not. He tried to use his analytical mind to find the path to victory, but that was of limited value against someone like Galmakh because his own movements were virtually perfection. What good was his ability to exploit flaws if there were no flaws to exploit?
Imotekh was not above taking the opening given to him, even as a part of his mind was outraged that the Crypteks had intervened. In a duel between Phaerons, that was a great disgrace! When Galmakh was safely recalling and the two Lychguard had knelt before him – part of Galmakh's final commands, evidently – Imotekh stalked to Orikan and Merywa, heedless of his lost arm. He would get that fixed later.
"Have I not warned you of this before, Diviner? Explain yourself," Imotekh snarled, remembering the incident of the C'Tan. Had he not made it clear to Orikan that he did not appreciate being kept in the dark?! To his surprise, Orikan made a glyph poem expressing his serenity in the face of undue criticism.
"Forgive me, Stormlord, but this is an entirely different situation. With the C'Tan, you are right that there was really no reason to keep you in the dark. But in this situation… forgive me, but you are simply not much of an actor." Well, that was true. "And Galmakh knows you well, much better than a C'Tan shard could. If I had enlightened you he would have realized and done something extremely destructive."
"Hm. But why was this intervention needful? Did you doubt my might?" Imotekh asked although truthfully, he'd been doubting it himself, particularly when he lost his arm. Merywa spoke, soft and hesitant and Imotekh turned his regard to her.
"His mind… his thoughts… Stormlord, he decided to kill you. I don't know what changed or what he intended to do, but he went from play to sincerely wanting your death. And the way he felt was – was horrible," Merywa shuddered, her frame rattling slightly. "He felt so sadistic. He was sure he could kill you, I swear it," she said and Imotekh felt a coldness in his flux. Sure he could kill him… surely not…? Imotekh reached for the interstitial networks.
Phaeron Galmakh has gone for recall. Please keep him in stasis until we are ready to resoul him and secure the Blood Scythe. Give it to a Technomancer for evaluation. Imotekh had noticed the way Galmakh had shifted the Scythe just before Merywa had frozen him in place. Was that it? Something hidden in the Scythe? Perhaps a certain, incurable disease of rotting metal? That would be so like him – not the Galmakh they'd once knew, but the one they had now. Oh yes, that would be like him.
"Yes, it is the Scythe," Orikan said and Imotekh's attention snapped to him. "It contains a special canister filled with the plague. The Technomancers will be able to safely remove it but caution them not to open it. There is currently no cure." Imotekh quickly added that to his instructions.
"I see. And are you well?" Imotekh asked Merywa. He knew exactly how Manric's abilities worked, the psyker had enlightened him as best he could, so he knew she was likely suffering now. She looked down before responding.
"It was very painful and I needed to use the blackstone to enhance my powers. I – I do not want to do that ever again. I feel like something noticed me," she said before shivering, violently this time. Orikan nodded, making glyphs of extreme gravity.
"It is difficult for me to see the future where the Warp is directly involved, but I believe she should remain in Mandragora. Zivok did his best, but she lacks Manric's innate protections against the creatures of the Warp." Hm, well, it was a bit inconvenient but that was fine. Imotekh could use Merywa for diplomacy whenever petitioners came to him, and take Manric when he needed to go somewhere else.
All that decided, they needed to handle something equally vital and the reason Orikan had accompanied him. Meeting Anhu the Silent. Anticipating their desire, Chronomancer Tahkelan entered the throne room and bowed respectfully. The battle was settling down as the death of the Phaeron was registered and Overlords began surrendering as Sautekh broadcasted that this was not a conquering but rather, an intervention. They took a barge to the halls of the Chronomancers before disembarking to continue on foot. As they walked through the halls of the Chronomancers of Novokh, Tahkelan gave them a caution.
"He communicates no other way, but Anhu is not actually that good at glyph poems. He has surely prepared himself for this meeting, using his insight of the future, but if he ever takes more time responding he is not being difficult, he is just crafting his glyphs." Interesting but it raised a question.
"Why does he not speak?" Imotekh asked. Anhu was no longer deaf and he understood speech now, from what Amenhoros had told him. Yet, he did not speak. Tahkelan was silent for a moment.
"This is only speculation. Anhu has not confirmed it. But we believe his ability to hear and understand language was programmed into him by the C'Tan, a change to the structure of his mind, which was not adapted to those things. That change did not include speech and he does not want to submit himself to the Psychomancers which is, alas, completely understandable." Imotekh did know what Tahkelan was referring to. The great Psychomancers of Novokh were renowned for their cruelty. "He does not have a vocalizer but even if he did, he could not use it."
"I see," Imotekh said, wondering to himself what Anhu's experiences with the C'Tan had been like. He could vaguely recall getting orders and carrying them out, with his usual skill but no true fire. He had not been nearly as lobotomized as the Warriors, but comparing his mindset when he fought Laaror to how he had been later was like comparing a bonfire to a guttering ember. No passion, just mechanical compliance.
The halls of the Chronomancers went very high into the sky, and could only be traversed by foot. Imotekh perceived that this was meant to be a pilgrimage to the shrine of knowledge. They were beautiful though and that beauty increased the further they went. It started as simple etchings, glyphs and constellations, but they changed to be inset with silver and precious gems. The star gems gleamed, lit from within as the artistry became ever more complicated. Silver glyph poems flowed, praising the stars and the nature of time itself. Imotekh could not entirely understand the poems, they involved concepts that were beyond his ken.
There were many side paths, but they followed the main path until they reached a doorway that was webbed in darkness, shot with brilliant lights. It parted before them like a curtain, and they walked through a final path to the heart of the sanctum of the Chronomancers, where Anhu dwelled.
To Imotekh, who had visited Orikan many times, it was actually quite predictable. The great dome of the Astrarium, designed to allow a perfect, unobstructed view of the stars. The floor was inscribed with the great patterns, the mysterious, mathematical equations of the Chronomancers and kneeling at set points were Anhu's chorus. The one thing that set it apart from Orikan's Astrarium were the decorations of the base. That was the one area where the domes of different Dynasties differed and in that space where earth touched sky, an ancient necrontyr of Novokh had chosen frescos depicting their civilization. Beautiful but stylized depictions, they showed everything from the fields of wheat to the great starships, the lowest of commoners to the Phaeron himself. All done in fine silver, protected from any tarnish.
Anhu himself gave a false impression of damage. It was partly because he was badly hunched over, his back inset with ports that had unknown, arcane purposes. It was also because his mouth was fused. Imotekh had never seen anything like it and if he had not known better, he would have thought it was a punishment. Instead of a functional vocalizer, Anhu just had a stylized line on his face, indicating where it should be. He had a single ocular, glowing gently with green fire and a dark blue beard, inset with the glyph for the Novokh dynasty. He wore surprisingly few marks of rank, but the staff he used was truly unique, looking like a glorious flower of blue petals and the core was an orb that shone with captive stars. Orikan stiffened at the sight of it.
Greetings, great lords and knowledge seekers of the Sautekh. As the glyph poem unfurled, Imotekh reflected on the strangeness of communicating this way. Glyphs were a symbolic language, meant for emotions and poetry, not truly for simple communication. That made some of what Anhu was saying flowery and open to interpretation. Perhaps a simple datapad would be more practical, but it also might seem like a kind of weakness. In long ago times I was fathered by He-Who-Speaks-Of-Seven-Spheres. Imotekh understood why he wasn't using actual names. The glyphs did not really allow for it, although titles were much easier and that was what Anhu was using.
"Your father was Sephekh of the Seven Spheres?!" Orikan demanded and Anhu made a glyph of affirmation.
Let me tell you of the past. Ah, good, that was what they truly wanted. It wasn't just idle curiosity, someone like Anhu, hidden for so long, was a grave concern. I was born upon a shrouded day of ill omens. My mother lay upon her sickbed, stricken by disease and gave birth to me in her haze of delirium before dying thereafter. I had sickened in the womb and at first, my father thought I would be deaf, mute and blind. Imotekh shuddered a bit internally at that thought. Would death be preferable? But fate spared my eyes and while I would always be frail, I was well enough.
The love I have for my father is great and wide, for he loved me, held me, cared for me. Yet, with the knowledge I have now, I also believe he used me. Anhu made a glyph poem of eloquent sorrow and pain before continuing. I was ever his apprentice. Laboring by his side, assisting him, asking for nothing. He kept me alone, to himself, sheltered beneath his wing but not allowed to shine. Anhu turned his head to look at Orikan. The great Cipher of the Seventh Sphere should have borne my name.
"That great treatise… you truly claim credit for that?" Orikan asked and Anhu bowed his head before making a simple glyph for affirmation.
My father was stricken by the curse of the malign star and for all his flaws, he did love me. He took me to Galmakh and asked that the great Phaeron take me as a ward. Imotekh felt genuinely sorry for him. It was clear from this story that Anhu had been sheltered to the point of being non-functional in necrontyr society. A terrible place to be for any Cryptek, let alone a great Luminary. Without a protector he would have been used, abused or even assassinated. Then Anhu made a great glyph poem about his wonder and joy, his utter devotion to the glory of his Phaeron. Orikan tilted his head.
"This is the part I do not understand. Why are you so devoted to Galmakh, even now? It appears that you have learned enough of our society to come out of the shadows," Orikan said and Imotekh looked at Anhu.
"May I answer for you?" he asked and Anhu made a glyph of relief and assent. Then he looked at Orikan. "You likely do not remember Galmakh well, as he was in life, but I do. He was…" Imotekh paused, remembering. "He was larger than life. He laughed and loved and was the center of adoration. Even the greatest of enemies could not help but feel it. I remember once – Galmakh actually traded banter with the aeldari on the battlefield and their commander expressed regret that he must die." Amazing really. "To know him was to love him." There was just so much charm there, so much charisma. Had Galmakh been a perfect leader? No, not be a long shot, but he had inspired fervent loyalty beyond all others. The remains of it existed to this day.
"Hm. I see," Orikan was a little skeptical but accepted it. Then, though, he moved to what would concern all of the Chronomancers. "But you are unmasked now. Will you step out of the shadows and join the greater community of the Chronomancers?" There was a pause before Anhu unfurled another glyph poem, this time expressing his fear. Fear of strangers, fear of his own ability to interacting with them, even fear of violence. Imotekh could not relate to these fears, of course – they were alien to his nature – but he was sure Anhu's father was responsible for this. Protecting a child to the point of crippling them, that was what he was looking at here. And that impulse, Imotekh could relate to… he'd wanted to protect Osatek, so long ago, but known he couldn't. He had to let the boy go out into the world and if that meant he died, so be it.
"I will be your Second, Anhu," Tahkelan said, daring to gently rest a hand on Anhu's shoulder. Anhu turned his head to look at him before nodding. Then he looked back at Orikan.
Although fear fills my heart, the time has come to step forth from the shadows. I must do this and I will do this. Anhu made glyphs of determination and Imotekh nodded to himself. While he had been an incredible resource to Galmakh as a hidden power, now that he was unmasked, coming into the light was his only option. Trying to stay hidden now would only incite distrust and hostility.
"Then let me extend the first invitation," Orikan said before offering Anhu a formal invitation, done in the old way, a scroll of parchment. Anhu accepted it gravely. "And do you wish a soul?" Imotekh felt that Orikan was only asking for form's sake. He already knew the answer.
Yes. Anhu's simple glyph seemed to carry great feeling to Imotekh. He was sure that with Galmakh taking a soul, Anhu had no intention of surviving past him. So he would take a soul as well, despite the danger. Orikan had brought the soul for him and it was Merywa who gently forced it into his body before customizing it. She was as quick as Manric, with the same ability to guide her. When she was done, Anhu made a short glyph poem to express his wonder and ask them to give him privacy. They all bowed to him, even Imotekh, although his bow was slight, the gesture of respect of a Phaeron to a great Luminary. Then they departed, Tahkelan still escorting them, to leave Anhu to his thoughts.
Taking in the gift of a soul, and remembering the past, required some time to reflect upon.
Author's note: There's more to this but the chapter is getting kind of long so I'll continue with the fallout of Galmakh getting a soul next chapter. My plan after that is to finish up Loki's arc before going to Manric and the Pariah Nexus. Also at that point, I might focus more on the Imperium's forces, we'll see. Does anyone have any ideas or suggestions? Thanks!
