INSTRUMENT OF FATE by The Confessor

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    INSTRUMENT OF FATE by The Confessor

    HomeFictionConversionsPicturesGame Related IdeasBattle ReportsArtworkHumorMailing ListLinksEmailINSTRUMENT OF FATE by The ConfessorThe Prioress stood by herself, waiting.The Ecclesiarch himself had requested her prescence, and that had piquedher curiosity somewhat. It had been months since she'd last seen him, atthe Feast of St. Baldred. Together they had toasted the death of thetraitor Philanthropus, a rare moment of happiness amidst the constant

    reports of worlds falling to aliens and heretics. What was becoming of the world, she wondered, that so many chose to forsake the Emperor?Then the tramp of many feet upon flagstones, and she abandoned herthoughts. He was probably a long way off, the echo within the vastcorridors of the Ecclesiarchal Palace was strong indeed. Above her, theceiling stretched away, probably a mile or more distant, supported bymighty pillars of marble, as old as time. The sheer scale of it humbledher, and she approved. Here was a place of total peace and serenity, thedarkness kept away by the grace of the Emperor and his appointed vassals.Then she saw the procession advancing down the passage, the fumes from the

    censers curling around the banners and staves that the Ecclesiarch'sbodyguard carried. She stepped out from behind the pillar, and awaitedtheir arrival. Why did he need a bodyguard, here in the second most holyplace in the galaxy? He should trust to the Emperor, as she did. There was

    nothing to fear while He kept watch over them.And then they arrived. The censer bearing attendants stood to one side, as

    the Ecclesiarch and his Sororitas minders, as well as a number of lowlyDeacons and functionaries, approached her. As usual he wore his robes ofoffice, white and voluminous, and secretly she wondered how they werecleaned, or whether there were more than one set. Upon his head sat hismighty mitre, half again as tall as he was and, so it was said, made of

    solid gold. Snaking wires, sprouting from somewhere within his cloak, were attatched at regular intervals to this immaculately sculpted work of art,millennia old. Beneath it, his wizened face. He was old now, she knew nothow old, but he had certainly been here when she had still been a novice,and she didn't doubt that he would still be here long after she had gone.The skin hung loose from his bones, and a large mechanical device wasattatched to his left eye, yet more wires linking this to the skull-shaped

    camera sitting upon his shoulder. He leaned heavily upon his ebony staffof office, yet when he spoke his voice was steady and rang with a tone ofauthority and inner strength.'Come, Prioress, will you not walk with me awhile?'

    'As His Holiness wishes.'And then she was swept up into the procession, a Battle Sister making wayfor her to walk alongside the Ecclesiarch, thankfully at his left hand,

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    away from the gruesome skull. She didn't know what it was, but somethingabout those things made her skin crawl. Maybe it was the fact that theyhad once belonged to real people...'I must speak to you of a matter of most grave importance.' he said,keeping his gaze fixed upon the path ahead, sparing her from the camera'swatchful eye. 'And I trust you will let no one else know that thisconversation took place''But what of His Holiness' attendants?'He chuckled. 'Worry not, they will not be telling anyone. I had theirtongues removed at birth, so that they might better observe their vows ofsilence.'At that she inwardly winced, but she knew better than to question. Theywere lucky to hold such auspicious positions, very few were blessed enough

    to attend to the Ecclesiarch himself.'You may have heard of the recent events at Pyrrhus.' he continued.'The recovery of the STC database?''Yes. Apparantly, things didn't quite go according to plan, and now theFabricator-general is most upset. He is holding me responsible for the

    whole sorry affair, and has swayed most of the Senate round to his pointof view.''And what does this have to do with me?'He smiled grimly, and turned to look at her. 'You have a habit of gettingstraight to the point, Abbess. The Senate wants to bring the Sister incharge of the expedition here to Terra, to stand trial for her 'crimesagainst humanity'. If such a thing were allowed to happen, I fear I wouldlose what little power I have left, and further restrictions would beplaced upon our department. This cannot be allowed to happen.''You don't want her to reach Earth?''Correct. Should she fail to arrive, I'm sure that this whole thing willblow over. There will be no evidence, and surely some new crisis to occupy

    our attentions...''You want her assassinated?' The word left a bitter taste in the mouth,even more so when applied to a fellow Sororitas.'No, the council would never approve, and my involvement must be unknown,otherwise things will just get even worse, if that is possible. No, itmust be an... accident. I'll leave it up to you to work out the details, I

    must be going. I have to find a planet to denounce. A little crusadeshould prove enough of a distraction for my fellows to forget thisincident. Ah, I believe these are your quarters. Emperor be with you.''And with His Holiness also.'As the Ecclesiarch and his entourage swept on up the corridor, she pausedin the doorway of the Convent. An accident? He made it all sound sosimple, as if he planned such things everyday. Not that she doubted himfor an instant, of course. As the representative of the Emperor hisactions were above doubt. As were hers... But to have a fellow Sisterkilled? Maybe even the whole vessel? She had the means, of course. Uponeach and every ship of the Ministorum she had her agents. It would be asimple matter to get an astropath to transmit a coded message to one ofthem, and then events would run their course. After all, the endsjustified the means... Sighing, she stepped into antechamber, desperatelysearching for a way out of this unenviable situation. But there was nonesave the one that had been given to her....When he was sure that he was alone, Korvuss gingerly edged out from thehidden alcove. Interesting news indeed, and he was sure that his masters

    in the Ordo Hereticus would reward him greatly for such information.Slipping his cowl over his face and clasping his hands together before his

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    chest, he set off to tell them.***'Your soul is mine.'Hesperides turned away and started to run. But it was no good. She couldnot outrun the daemon, and had been foolish to even try. It grabbed her by

    her hair, and flung her to the ground on her back. Then it loomed overher, its dark bulk blocking out even the ebon light of that black place.She tried to scream, but found that she had no tongue. the daemon was,even now, swallowing it down its infernal throat. She felt its claws uponher body, its breath upon her face.Wait - daemons didn't have breath.***She was in the white place again.Just another nightmare, she told herself. After all, no daemon could getin here. Not through the consecrated walls of any ship of the Emperor. She

    was in the safest place imaginable.But if that was true, why did the dreams still come?

    'Ah, I see that there is no need to wake you, Sister.'Coronis again. She was always there, always there to give encouragement,to tell her that her condition was improving. Apparantly it hadn'timproved sufficiently for her to be in contact with anyone else on board.And so she'd been stuck in this room, this white.... room. Floors,ceilings, walls, even the bed was white. And that was all that was here.Nothing that could possibly distract her from her meditations.She looked up to see Coronis standing in the doorway, dressed in the longwhite robe of the Order of Serenity. She got up off her 'bed' and stoodfacing her.'You have come to tell me that I am free to leave this place?' she askedhopefully, but she already knew the answer.'Regretably, no. You are to be detained here until we reach Terra, then

    you can leave. If it was up to me, I'd let you go, but it's not. Thiscomes from the Ecclesiarch himself. I'm sure that it's for your own good.''Then why are you here?''Do I have to have a reason? I just came to see if you were all right.''I'd be a lot better if you'd let me out of here. Honestly, there'snothing wrong with me. You're a Hospitaller, I'm sure that you can seethat. The Ministorum need never know.''I'm sorry to say that I can't see your condition improving. And now Imust leave you. You don't know what I'm risking just being here. May theEmperor watch over you, sister.' Coronis told her, maybe a touch ofsadness in her voice, as she stepped outside and closed the blast doorbehind her.Hesperides just sank back down onto the bed.There was something going on here, something they weren't telling her.Maybe the daemon had got to them, was holding her captive? Even as she sat

    here, it could be planning to-No, that was just paranoia. That was why she was here. She had to losethose thoughts, get back to how she was before. Then everything would bealright again.But she could never be like she was before. Prada had seen to that.***'And how is your new hand, sir?'Inquisitor Prada considered the question for a moment. The bionic handthat the tech-priest had installed seemed to be functioning perfectly

    well, at least as good as his other hand. But maybe that wasn't what thequestion was about. Perhaps it was an inquiry as to how the operationitself had gone. Fairly standard procedure, his refusal to have

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    anaesthetic applied had brought him slightly closer to understanding theEmperor's eternal pain, thus broadening his spiritual horizons. But heknew the answer that his comrade wanted to hear.'Still hurts like Hell.''I heard that you had it done without painkillers. Why?''Inquisitor Schiller, I take it that even one as young as you knows thatit should be every man's sole desire to bring himself closer to the agonyof the Emperor, so that we might better appreciate the sacrifice that Heunderwent for us. But enough of this theology. That is the domain of theEcclesiarchy. What news have you of the Sororitas expedition to Pyrrhus?''The Vengeful Mace is en route to Terra even as we speak, sir, but I havebeen informed by one of our colleagues in the Ordo Hereticus that certainfactions within the Ecclesiarchy do not want it to reach its desiredlocation. Apparantly the Scourge of Sin is on an intercept course, itsCaptain under the impression that he is pursuing a rebel vessel. Hisorders are to destroy it.''And what course of action have our brethren taken?''In order for the power of the Ecclesiarchy to be kept in check, theVengeful Mace must reach Earth, no matter what the cost. I believe a

    number of Black Ships have been commissioned to stop the Scourge of Sin,or at least to ensure that the accused reaches Terra to stand trial.'Prada had been unprepared for this. Black Ships firing upon Imperialvessels? Things had to be really bad for such an order to be given. Wasthere something about all this that they weren't telling him?'Your contact seems to know a lot.' he mused, sliding the comment into the

    conversation almost as an aside.'He, ah, is merely well informed.' Schiller was clearly worried.'I don't suppose you are willing to tell me his name?''Why should that concern you, sir? I've told you what you wanted to know-''You have told me nothing, Schiller. You thought you could sell me

    information that you obtained through spying on a fellow Inquisitor. Butyou came to the wrong man, and I have exposed your crimes. Guards!'As the doors slid smoothly, yet slowly, open, Schiller turned to hisaccuser, pointing a finger. Prada noticed that it was shaking.'But you told me to!''Did I? I think you'll find that I didn't.'Two power armoured figures strode into the room behind Schiller, one ofthem saluting Prada.'Lord Inquisitor?'Prada pointed at Schiller, hand as steady as a rock. 'Take him away, andplace him in one of the questioning rooms. I will interrogate him later.'Each guard grabbed one of Schiller's arms, dragging him off his feet asthey carried him back down the corridor. Even as the door closed behindthem, Schiller gave vent to one last cry:'But you told me to do it!'Prada put the incident to the back of his mind. He could question thetraitor later at his leisure, and maybe the torture would do something tocheer him up. Ever since she'd cut his hand off he'd been in this rut ofmelancholy. And this new development was doing nothing to improve it. Inall his years as an Inquisitor, he had never heard of a Black Ship beingsanctioned to attack. It was unprecedented. Either this mission was ofworld shattering importancy, or something was wrong. If it was important,someone would have told him exactly why, and they hadn't. That left onlythe possibility of a problem within the Inquisition itself. It was hisduty to the Emperor to find the root of this problem, and to burn it out.

    And he knew just where to start.***Captain Yarrow drummed his fingers idly on the arm of his chair.

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    'How much longer until we reach the target?' he asked again.At his elbow, Lieutenant Nilgood turned to look at the nearest Servitor.Over its shoulder, upon the screen that its gaze was fixed upon, he notedthe information needed for the calculation.'Sir, given the speeds of both the Scourge and the Hammer, I wouldestimate that we shall intercept in an hour's time.''Thank you, Lieutenant.' He tried to sound as gracious as possible, butthat was hard when Nilgood was such a... Nilgood.His attention to detail was phenomonal, and his uniform was alwaysspotless. He demanded that protocol be used to the letter for even themost routine missions, and his voice was kinda funny. But that wasn't what

    annoyed Captain Yarrow. No, what annoyed him was the fact that he insisted

    on standing at his shoulder the whole time, as if he were waiting for himto drop dead so that he could take his place. He wouldn't have beensurprised if he was plotting something, but the chances against it werephenomonal. His service record was as clean as his uniform.Never the less, he could do with a few moments alone. Or at least, alone

    save for the whole of his bridge crew save Nilgood.'Nilgood, go and fetch Sister Lemnia. I have something to discuss withher.'Yarrow winced at the click of Nilgood's heels.'At once, sir.'Yarrow waited until the hiss of steam and slam of metal indicated that the

    doors had closed again. Then he breathed out. Peace. At the helm of hisship, without anybody peering over his shoulder. In control.'Switch on the main view screen.' he ordered.And it was done. One moment a blank emptiness, then the swirling miasma of

    the Warp. It may have disturbed other men, but Yarrow found it strangely

    comforting. He leaned back in his chair, putting his feet up on theconsole before him, and waited.***Sister Lemnia of the Order of the Key sat alone in her room, praying. Sheknew that a confrontation with evil was approaching and, although shepersonally would not be involved, she prayed to the Emperor to aid her.She was disturbed by the opening of the door. At once she was on her feet.

    Who could possibly disturb her now, during a designated prayer session?But then she recognised the familiar silhouette.'I take it you have a good reason for disturbing my meditations?' shedemanded haughtily.'Oh, I think I have the best possible reason.'There was a smugness in the voice that she didn't care for. Was he notaware of her position? Now he was raising something in his right hand. The

    smallest of sounds, and something stung her neck. The room began to swirl,

    and then everything went black.***'I trust you have a good reason for disturbing me?' Captain Hunas

    demanded.'Yes, sir.' Lieutenant Garm saluted his commanding officer as he walkedonto the command deck. 'A unidentified vessel has appeared off our portbow.'

    Great, Hunas thought to himself. A routine mission just got complicated.The Vengeful Mace was not equipped for combat, and in any case it had been

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    years - how many now, six or seven? - since he had led a ship to war.'What's it doing?''Nothing, sir. It's just keeping level with us, as if it were waiting forsomething. And all our attempts at astropathic communications are beingblocked.''Bring us back into real space. If and when that thing decides to attack,I don't want to die in the Warp.''Aye, sir.'There was nothing else to do. Without any means of sending a distresssignal, and forced to travel in normal space, he could only hope and praythat some Imperial vessel would chance upon them on its journey. But hewasn't counting on it. Then Garm spoke again.'It's following us, sir. And so is something else!''What do you mean, Lieutenant?' Hunas demanded, storming down to thescanner station, pushing Garm aside to get a better view of the screen.'By the Emperor, it's an Imperial warship! We're saved!'But his surprise and relief soon gave way to surprise and disbelief. Their

    saviours were launching a torpedo salvo at the Mace itself, tiny little

    blips flickering across the blackness of space.'What the-'This couldn't be happening. Fired upon by a friendly vessel, and now theunidentified black ship was interposing itself between them and thetorpedoes! There'd be some strange tales to tell once they reached portagain, if they ever did reach port again...'Sir! More incoming vessels!'They didn't need to tell him, he could see it all unfolding upon thescanner before him. The torpedoes had all impacted on the black ship,without any apparant effect, and now the so-called 'Imperial' ship wassurrounded by three other such craft. It was an intriguing spectacle, butsomehow it all felt like predators fighting over a scrap of meat...'Lieutenant!' he called, swinging his gaze from the screen to the young

    officer. 'Get us back into the Warp and as far away from here aspossible!'

    And in that brief moment that he turned from the screen, he couldn'tpossibly have noticed the small blip launched by the Imperial vessel, theblip that was following in the Mace's wake...***Nimuennir awaited Conranor's arrival. He had forseen today's eventsalready, and anticipated the humans' reactions, but the opinion of another

    would be welcome, as would the company of one of flesh and blood. Spending

    so much of one's time with the souls of the dead may grant enlightenment,but it did not dispel the ever-present threat of loneliness.Nimuennir turned a fraction of a second before Conranor entered thechamber, causing the wraithstone beads that hung in the doorway to givevent to a melodious tune. Nimuennir himself had composed it, a long timeago, when he still desired to follow the Path of the Musician, before hewas made aware of his true calling. But the occasional pang of regret wasall that remained of that time now, for the future was of much greaterimportance to him now than the past. Right now though, the present wasforemost in his mind.'I have consulted the runes.' Conranor told him, bowing slightly beforehis teacher. Straightforward and to the point, Nimuennir thought - but was

    that a good thing?

    'And what have you seen, pupil?' the Farseer replied, returning the bow.This was where he would discover whether the young Warlock was worthy. Hehoped that his years of tutoring had not been wasted.

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    'I saw the one you spoke of, but I fail to see the significance.' Thenonchalance was disquieting.'Ah, so gifted in the reading of the runes, yet unable to see that whichis as plain as day.' Nimuennir sighed, turning for a moment to considerthe exquisite intricasies of the Cirforgaliel painting upon the wall, itssubtle hues and hidden meanings. Then he looked back again. 'No matter.Conranor, you shall accompany me on my journey, and see for yourself the'significance' of this mon-keigh. I trust that you will be ready to depart

    within the hour.''If it pleases you, I am ready now.' No, too eager.'Conranor, the very fact that you think yourself ready for this expedition

    shows me just how unprepared you are. There is much we must do before weset off to this... Vengeful Mace.''As you wish.' Conranor bowed again and left the room.Nimuennir paused for a moment before he followed the Warlock. A suddenpremonition, or just a feeling of apprehension? He just couldn't shake the

    feeling that he would never see this place again. But then he banished his doubts and strode through the beads, their harmony following him down thecorridor.***Hospitaller Coronis paused as she passed the door. Maybe she should lookin again, just to make sure things were all right? There was no onearound, they need never know. She dispelled the notion almost as soon asit had surfaced. The Materfamilias needed time to herself. Besides, whywas she so concerned, anyway? Hesperides' problem was something she wasnot able to help with. It was all out of her hands, a pain that shecouldn't heal. And that was what was really dispiriting. All of herknowledge, and still Hesperides was doomed. She had known her since they

    were novices together back on Terra, and, although they had gone theirdifferent ways within the convent, she felt she knew her well enough toknow that she couldn't be responsible for what they were accusing her of.What defined the Battle Sister was her devotion to duty. She would neverbreak a direct order...What is this? she asked herself. Starting to believe her story about theTemplars? Maybe she's not the only one with troubles of the mind...Then there was a sickening crunch, the scream of tearing metal. It echoeddown the corridor. With the instincts of a born healer, Coronis rantowards the sound to see if anyone was hurt.The cacophony had been closer than she had thought, just around the corner

    in fact. Something seemed to have embedded itself in the hull of the ship,

    and had managed to penetrate this far inside. A servitor lay across thefloor from it, trying to right itself despite the fact that both its legshad been severed. Coronis ran to it, kneeling over its prone form. It maynot have had any mind to speak of, but still she didn't like seeing anycreature in pain. As she reached inside her robe to draw out a sedationtool, something struck her across the back of the head. She crumpledsoundlessly to the floor, her lifeblood dripping onto the chest of theservitor, which was still writhing like a thing possessed.***How long to go now, she wondered. Coronis had not been to see her forseveral days now, was that some indication of time? She wished she'd paid

    more attention on the journey to this Emperor-forsaken place, maybe eventimed the voyage.But there was no point dwelling on the past. Emperor knows, she'd spent

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    long enough on her confrontation with the Inquisitor, wondering what shecould possibly have done differently, whether there was some way to haveavoided this situation. The really galling thing had been the fact thatshe had been helpless. The Emperor had deserted her in her hour of need.And now she was being delivered to her enemies, within the shadow of thePalace itself. A grim irony.But while she lived, there was hope. She closed her eyes, letting her mind

    be at peace. With no thoughts to cloud her, she prayed. She prayed to theEmperor for his protection, for some form of aid that may yet save her.She had given so much to his service, was she not deserving of somethingin return?Who was she fooling. The Emperor didn't care about her, he hardly caredabout anyone. Only those in power could afford his favour, while thosebelow them suffered. It had taken her so long to realise this. She openedher eyes. Might as well resign herself to her fate now.Then the door opened.It didn't open in the normal manner. Rather than sliding jerkily into theceiling, it fell flat across the floor, the noise making her jump. She

    scrambled to her feet quickly, backing away to put the bed between her and her visitor.As it stepped inside, she caught her breath. Its very movements wereprecise and measured, stalking in a manner not dissimilar to that of abird. This bird was covered in plates of darkened metal however, the onlycolour coming from its eyes, with blazed the ruddy colour of Hell itself.The rest of its head was twisted, spikes and taloned appendages apparantly

    part of the armour, yet seeming so natural. Its hands were talons ofblackness, one of them grasping a serated blade more than half the heightof the creature itself. The hum of a dying chainsword motor driftedthrough the silence, accompanied by the amplified breathing of a man out

    of breath.'You will come with me.' it said.The voice broke Hesperides out of the spell that had held her in place.The voice had been so cultured, so calm, she could barely believe it hadcome from this walking nightmare before her.It raised its free hand towards her, as if expecting her to take it andlet it lead her to her doom. If this daemon thought that she despised life

    enough to give it her soul so freely, it had another thing coming. With no

    weapons to hand she was forced to throw the bedsheets over it, hopefullybuying enough time to get past it and out through the door.It was not to be. Even as she let go, the claw snaked out and wrenched the

    cloth from mid-air. It shook its head. That was probably why it was sosurprised when Hesperides brought her fist down on its wrist. The othertalon opened, the chainsword clattering to the floor. Then it swung around

    on her, discarding the bedding and punching her to the ground. Itsstrength was phenomonal, and Hesperides was left winded on the floor.'Enough!'The voice was so commanding that even Hesperides involuntarily jerked to a

    sitting position. Her breath in ragged gasps, she looked up to see another

    creature enter the room. This one was dressed in long robes of black silk,

    adorned with foreign and heretical rune markings. It wore no helm, so its

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    origin was not hard to discern.'Eldar!' she spat, gobbets of blood spilling from her mouth.The robed alien knelt beside her, its hands on its knees. Its face waspainfully thin, and so pale to be almost white. It had not a single hairupon its head, but a pair of grey eyes that stared into the soul. Itreached out a gloved hand to take her by the chin, but she ducked back,cracking her head on the wall.'So typical.' it sighed. 'More willing to endure more pain than to letanother help.''I want none of your help, witch that you be.''As you wish.' The Farseer eased himself to his feet, rather carefully,she noticed. 'I do feel honour bound, however, to apologise for Forelir.His is the path of the Warrior, and the only time he meets mon-keighusually is to kill them.''Then just let him get it over with. I'm sure there's nothing you alienslike more than killing defenceless women.'Nimuennir waved Forelir back, and the Exarch stepped back outside thecell.'I am not here to harm you, woman. Instead I am here to warn you. You are

    what we call... an instrument of fate, in your tongue. You are but a pawnin the immense plans of the cosmos.''I am nobody's pawn!' Hesperides spat. 'I serve the Emperor, and follow no

    will but his.'Nimuennir was totally unfazed by this. It was typical of the mon-keigh,especially those as fanatical as these sororitas, to be unaware of, oractively deny, the preordained paths of fate.'That may be' he said, 'but I believe you are very important, that you can

    alter the path of destiny. There will come a time in your life where youwill make a choice, maybe insignificant at the time, but a choice with far

    reaching consequences either way.'Hesperides had heard tales of the Eldar, how they stole children fromtheir cots and corpses from their graves, just to fulfil their debaseddesires. How they scoured entire worlds, giving no explanation anddisregarding the word of the Emperor. How they were idolators, spillingtheir own blood willingly for the appeasement of their false god. But most

    of all, the tales told of their treachery. Not for nothing did the sayinggo 'trust not the Eldar'...'You seek to win me, to corrupt me, with your flattery, your promises ofpower. But I am not as arrogant as you would seem to think. I will denyyou with every fibre of my soul.''Strong words for one so young. Yet it is my duty to educate you...'Then Forelir returned. He carried in his arms a limp bundle.Hesperides looked up as the Exarch returned, and recognised immediatelywhat she saw. The robe was stained with blood, and the head twisted at anodd angle, but she recognised the face.Coronis.'No!' she screamed. 'What have you done to her, you unclean alien scum!?!'She snatched up the chainsword from where it lay, and swung it, withstrength born of fury, at the Farseer. Unready, the Eldar took the blowacross the chest, runes and gemstones exploding as the whirling bladesscoured through them. Yet still he stood. As Forelir dropped the body ofthe Hospitaller to the ground, Nimuennir swept his arms through the air,words of another tongue gushing from his mouth. Even as Hesperides lashed

    out at him again, a ripping noise heralded the completion of his spell.As the Eldar crumpled to the floor, the space behind him collapsed in onitself, a swirling miasma of darkness forming from nowhere. Had Hesperides

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    known the ways of the Eldar she would have known it to be a webway portal.

    But she was ignorant.'What witchcraft is this?' she hissed, laying the blade at the seer'sthroat.'Too late now.' croaked Nimuennir.With a roar, Forelir sprang at the Battle Sister, no weapon in his hand,yet none needed, for his mandiblasters were already singing into life.Hesperides ducked to avoid both the spinning discs and the StrikingScorpion's own razor sharp claws, and then fell backwards.Into the webway.Forelir, foremost Exarch of the Striking Scorpion Aspect of the Craftworld

    of Ulthwe, followed her. The portal closed behind him.***For a while the room was silent, save for the gasps of the dyingNimuennir. Then Conranor entered, rushing to kneel beside his fallenmentor.

    'She wouldn't listen...' the Farseer managed.The Warlock could feel the after affects of a warp opening radiatingaround the room, and managed to guess what had happened.'Where did the portal lead?' he asked.Nimuennir looked up into the azure eyes of his pupil, reading not only the

    concern for his health, but also the lust for revenge. He was not readyfor the responsibility. There had been so much he had to teach him. Toolate now.'I know not...' he managed, and it was the truth. 'I thought to escape her

    wrath, but there was no time...'His head jerked once, and then the scene shifted. No longer was Conranor

    above him. It was someone else, illuminated from behind, face in shadow.Yet he could tell that it was smiling, whoever it was...'Nimuennir?' Panic had entered Conranor's voice, but he knew that hismaster could no longer hear him.Strange. He had thought that his teacher's death would have brought someemotion, but there was none. He had been taught well in controlling hisfeelings. Taught by the best. Yet still he clenched his hands to fists.Why had he not forseen this? He could have warned him, and he would stillbe here.He got to his feet, and gazed around at the barbaric chamber, devoid ofcolour and life. Beside the Farseer's body lay that of a mon-keigh. Hetilted his head to look her in the eye. The blood staining the face haddone little to improve her unbalanced features. Truly these creatures were

    to be pitied, hardly any wit or knowledge, and yet also cursed to be but a

    pale shadow of the Eldar form.A figure appeared in the doorway. It was one of the Guardians fromNimuennir's entourage, but he couldn't tell which. With those yellow helms

    on they all looked the same. Organised in a way these aliens never couldbe.'Who was she?' the Warlock asked, though he knew full well the answer.The Guardian followed his gaze. 'I know not. We found her dead when wearrived.'

    As his head moved to look at the prone form of the Farseer, Conranor cuthim silent before he could speak.'I will explain later, and we can all lament together once we have

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    returned home. What do you have to tell me?''The mon-keigh are aware of us, Warlock.' the Guardian told him. 'We met a

    couple close to where we found this one, but they have escaped in one oftheir primitive craft. It will not be long before others come toinvestigate. What would you have us do?'Conranor consiered the question for a moment. It was the first time anyone

    had ever required him to make a real decision, not one based onhypothetical reasoning and tricks of logic. It was the first time he would

    give a command.'First, retrieve the seer's spirit stone, and then we will take our leaveof this place. Forelir is beyond our help now, as I know not where he is.When we reach Ulthwe I will be able to consult the Council, and I'm surethat they will be able to aid us in our search. Nimuennir believed thatthis mon-keigh was important, and I am not going to let him die fornothing. We will find this ... 'significant' one and continue his work.''Lord Warlock!' The Guardian's tone was not encouraging.

    Conranor turned, and then saw the cause of his distress. In his hand washeld the Farseer's spirit stone, the jewel that would save Nimuennir'ssoul from the Thirsting One. It was broken, shattered by the teeth of thechainsword.His mentor was gone. Devoured. The one who had discovered his talents, who

    had raised him through the greater part of his all too short life, taken.And for what? Some dirty little mon-keigh, who may or may not beimportant. An ignorant alien who had cast Nimuennir into a place ofeternal pain. She too would know the same, this he promised himself. Theywould all know.He screamed his anguish, and pointed accusingly at the Guardian before

    him.

    'We will be avenged for this crime against our very spirit! I want themall dead! Not one mon-keigh aboard this drifting pile of rusted metal must

    live to see another dawn! Khaine will have their blood, and their soulstoo, to do with as he pleases, to visit upon them every agony that theyhave done to us!' He wrenched his rune inlaid dagger from its sheath athis waist and ripped it across his palm. 'This I swear before the eyes ofKhaine, by my own lifeblood!'The Guardian hesitated for only a moment, but in the eyes of the enragedWarlock it was treachery.'Well? What are you waiting for? KILL THEM ALL!'As the terrified Eldar vanished back through the doorway, Conranor fell to

    his knees before Nimuennir's corpse.'Do not worry' he whispered to it, 'This is only the beginning. We willfind the one who did this to you, and when we do, the fires of Khaine'sfell sword will seem like paradise compared to what I will do to her! Youshall be avenged!'Then he let his head drop, and the tears come.***The Ecclesiastic train swept up the corridor, on into the heart of theConvent Prioris. Rich tapestries and stained glass windows decorated every

    available surface that was not occupied by a statue of a Saint, or theEmperor himself. The banners of the Orders Militant hung from the rafters

    of the impossibly high ceiling, where dark cherubim and floating skullsflittered.The Ecclesiarch had to admit that he was impressed by how well it had all

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    gone. Had the Eldar attack been a coincidence, or had she managed toarrange it somehow? It was a question he would have to put to herpersonally. However it had happened, the expression on the faces of hisfellow High Lords had been one to treasure. Especially the metal skull ofthe Fabricator General. He struggled to supress a grin, and failed.The Battle Sisters before the door to the Prioress' personal chamberstepped aside as his deacons opened the door. He left them behind andwalked forward into the darkened room.'Somebody turn the illuminators on.' he said.As the lights flickered into existance, the first thing he noticed was the

    limp form hanging from the ceiling. He recognised it immediately. With anoose of thick rope around her neck, the Prioress dangled above theground, an ornately carved chair lying discarded a few feet away.He grasped his rosarius and muttered a prayer of warding as the corpse'sswinging brought its dead eyes to gaze upon him. To think that it had been

    living and breathing but hours ago...'Why would she do this?' he asked his nearest attendant. But he couldn't

    turn his head, couldn't drag his gaze from that thing.'His Holiness