Saeva Abyssi Chapter 15

Arthra J'rect took a sip of his wine and his lips drew back as the acid flavour seared his tongue. He breathed in the fumes and felt a rush tingle up his spine as the hallucinogenic qualities tickled his hindbrain. It was an average vintage, laced with the tears of a Jokero but it helped pass a dull afternoon.

Athra lowered his goblet and looked about, taking in the sight of a variety of creatures being stretched out on excruciation racks. He was currently wandering the torture decks of his flagship, sampling what was on offer and inspecting the artwork of his crew. Athra J'rect was not content with merely feeding upon bland suffering; he demanded that his crew find new and inventive practices; to make their cruelties works of art as much as a source of sustenance. Unfortunately in this they were proving quite a disappointment. Athra sighed loudly and his companion looked up to say, "You are unsatisfied Archon?"

Athra looked over at his companions, the Haemonculi Vl'hyas and his bodyguard Dramaq. They were following him on his tour and watching the crew ply their craft upon the slaves all around them. Athra swept an arm around to take in the various actions of whips, knives and hooked chains as he said, "This is repetitive and clichéd, amateurish and overdone. It is the work of children, not the refined art of a superior culture."

Vl'hyas shrugged, making his hunchbacked spine sway and said, "Everybody has to start somewhere, I can teach your servants much better arts in time."

Athra sighed again and said, "Ah I miss your laboratories, the delights there are always fresh and inventive."

Vl'hyas bowed his head in acceptance of the compliment and said, "I do strive not to repeat myself."

Athra sighed sadly and said, "As I grow older I find that the simple pleasures lose their savour, banal entertainments no longer stir my spirit. I am growing jaded; everything is so dull and repetitive."

Vl'hyas said thoughtfully, "If you are bored I did bring several of my more robust creations along, that Gene-bulk always provides a few hours of delights. Astartes just never seem to reach their breaking point."

Athra however wasn't listening; he had paused at a particular excruciation rack and said, "Now, this shows promise."

Fixed to the rack was a Mon-Keigh male, manacled down to the table. Suspended over the animal was a Catachan Blackback viper, sedated to ensure that it didn't move. Its venom was being milked by a small device that caused poison to fall into the Mon-Keigh's eyes every few seconds, making it scream. The agony must have been unbearable, but to alleviate this, the creature's mate was standing next to it with a small bowl. The animal would catch the venom in the bowl to spare its mate, but only for so long before it was full. The bowl would have to be emptied and for a moment the venom would resume dripping onto the Mon-Keigh.

Athra laughed and declared, "Ah better, look at the use of compassion between them to heighten the experience. The use of positive emotions as a goad and the emphasis on negative space."

Vl'hyas agreed, saying, "The time between drops only adds to the fear."

Athra declared, "Find whose work this is and promote them."

Dramaq however growled, "Archon, you have a visitor."

Athra looked over to see a single being in white robes picking her way over to him, with a thin staff in one hand. She was stepping daintily and carefully holding up the hem of her attire, lest it be spoiled with the spilt bodily-fluids running over the deck. This one's face was hidden behind a high-crested helm but her psychic aura was unmistakable, it was the Farseer T'selia and Athra was delighted that she had emerged from her isolation. As she walked the various crew-members head's rose and bloodlust curdled in their eyes, the desire to capture her filling their rancid hearts. Yet a growl from Dramaq sent them cowering, none of them wanted to face an Incubus so for now Athra's guest was sacrosanct. Athra watched her approach and could feel the disdain pouring off her, the ire that her presence was necessary.

As the Farseer closed Athra made the third gesture of welcome, used for casual meetings of acquaintances and he said, "Welcome fair one, have you come to appreciate our humble arts?"

T'selia glanced at the cavalcade of nightmares all around and sneered, "You call this art?"

Athra smiled and gestured to one side saying, "Consider this piece here, a most vibrant and interesting work."

T'selia looked at the Mon-Keigh and projected a psychic aura of scorn but that was not all she revealed. Buried under her veneer of contempt was the slightest trace of satisfaction at seeing the Mon-Keigh's pain, a hint of approval and even pleasure at seeing the beast punished so. Athra hid his joy at the taste of her dark nature, she was trying to hide it but the flaw in her soul was growing to become a yawning pit of festering hatred. For a moment Athra considered snatching her up right now and binding her into a Talos pain engine but he suppressed the urge, there were far more sorrowful torments yet to be explored.

T'selia finally said, "It is nothing more than they deserve."

"Ah yes," said Athra, "Such a crude and unenlightened species. So warlike, conquering and destroying all in their path."

T'selia flinched slightly at that comment, but said, "I am not here to banter with you but to tell you that the Skein is shifting. The Mon-Keigh target fights on; they have already destroyed two of your frigates."

Athra waved away the concern and said, "Hardly a loss, those crews were not exactly my finest warriors."

T'selia's aura flared in annoyance and she spat, "Do not underestimate this foe, the futures twist around the target like river water around a large rock. There are even prospects where it kills all your escort ships."

Athra shrugged and said, "What of it, let the beasts grow confident with easy kills. Sooner or later they must emerge from the planet and when they do my cruisers will rip them to shreds."

T'selia snarled, "Your arrogance will be your downfall."

"Is that your foresight at work?" Athra retorted, "A shame it failed you at the hour of Idharae's need."

T'selia's head snapped around and she snarled, "How do you know about that?!"

Athra smirked and said, "I just know."

T'selia sounded suspicious as she said, "That Mon-Keigh sorcerer told you, didn't he?"

Athra cocked his head and said, "What of it?"

T'selia snarled, "You shouldn't trust him, he plotted to kill his own Gene-father."

Athra shrugged as he said, "Haven't we all?"

T'selia sounded surprised as she queried, "You killed your own father?"

"Yes of course," remarked Athra lightly, "And he died proud that I was keeping up a long family tradition."

T'selia shook her head and said, "I will never understand you Drukhai."

Athra smiled and said warmly, "Come tell me of your own home, tell me of the Craftworlds."

T'selia eyed him for a moment, as if searching for mockery in his tone and as she did so Athra noticed that she stroked her soul-stone in a protective gesture. Then T'selia unburdened herself saying, "Idharae was a shining jewel in the galactic east, launched at the very beginning of the exodus from the ancient empire of our common forefathers. We travelled far across the galaxy, searching for a sanctuary and learning the way of the Paths. We were never the largest of the Craftworlds but we held spiritual treasures from the Dawn Times and stood as proud as any other. Ah, the beauty of Idharae brought tears to the eye, the gentle agri-domes, the proud warrior shrines and the solitude to be found within the dome of crystal seers. And through it all the beloved whispers of our ancestor's spirits, resting within the Infinity Circuit."

"Sounds positively pastoral," commented Athra, "What went wrong?"

T'selia's tone darkened, "The Great Devourer came from the dark, feasting upon the Exodite worlds. We fought them back, we fought alongside Craftworlds Iyanden and Malant'ai to break their Hive mind. The victory was hard won but it left us weakened and vulnerable and then the Mon-Keigh struck. We saw it coming but there was no escape, no way to divert the threat. They smashed our diminished fleets aside and broke into own homes, making the Wraithbone scream with their clomping boots and booming guns. The Gene-bulks ran rampant through our beautiful home, they despoiled our shrines, smashed the crystal statues and broke the soul-stones. You cannot imagine the horror of it, to hear our ancestor's souls cast being into the Warp and to be consumed by She Who Thirsts."

"A tragedy indeed," Athra remarked, thinking more of the lost potential victims for his dungeons.

"The worst part is it could have been avoided," snarled T'selia not noticing, "Ten thousand years ago there was a plan to eradicate the Mon-Keigh. A Cabal of many races sought to destroy the race entirely in an attempt to erase Chaos itself."

Athra threw back his head and laughed, "Destroy Chaos? A fool's errand. Did they not know that it is impossible, at best they could have driven it into abeyance for another hundred millennia or so."

"That is not the point," growled T'selia, "They had the chance to destroy the Mon-Keigh but they were stopped. Stopped by one of our own Farseers, Eldrad Ulthran. The arrogant fool chose to let that filthy species survive, to lay down the lives of noble Eldar for generations to come. All in the name of his forlorn plan to awaken a new God. He should have let the flame of the Mon-Keigh gutter out before it grew into the inferno that consumed Idharae."

Athra mused, "It was my understanding that the Alaitoc claimed vengeance for the lost, cutting down the Invaders Chapter."

"Revenge?!" spat T'selia in a furious exclamation, "It was not enough, it will never be enough. Justice must be done; the entire filthy Mon-Keigh race must be exterminated! Extinction is all they deserve and I will make them pay for the dead of Idharae!"

With that cry T'selia's power was let slip, a surge of eldritch lightning running up her hands and along the length of her staff. In a flash of psychic light she unleashed her might, sending jagged arcs of energy to engulf the pair of Mon-Keigh animals. Blue flames roared and made all step back as the inferno raged for a single second etching shadows into the walls. Athra had to shield his eyes from the brilliance of the bonfire and he was amazed by the power on display, the might so carelessly unleashed. Then the fire cut off like a match being blown out, leaving only a pile of ash and bones as a testament to the Farseer's fury.

T'selia fell quiet and limp in shock of her own actions, breathing hard as her hand strayed to her soul-stone and stroked it for reassurance. Athra however was delighted by the rage and anger he had just witnessed, the Farseer's walls of self-control were crumbling and the power beyond was spilling out. Athra patiently watched T'selia calm down, the dam of her will was already fractured, now he just had to let her anger simmer and slowly build up again.

Softly he said, "I will help you, I will make this happen."

T'selia looked at Athra, her gaze mixed with suspicion, hope and just the tiniest hint of gratitude, a sign that she was starting to depend on him. Then she said, "You promise?"

"Of course," said Athra soothingly, "Witness how committed I am to the cause."

The Archon addressed Vl'hyas saying, "Are your creations ready for combat?"

The Haemonculi answered, "Yes, many of them."

"Good," declared Athra, "Then prepare to send them down to the frigates. It's time to get serious about this war."