Horrors of the Mind

[Archon Ahkrenath]

Those of you who know me from Aftermath may recognize this story which was never quite finished. Anyways:

*********************************************Squad Fenya was still investigating the hive-vessel that had landed on the surface of the maiden world. Four new shadow stalkers and a shadowlord, they were relatively inexperienced, with only one having any previous combat experience.

Feron, one of the stalkers, was walking on the sticky pulsating floor when suddenly he felt a burning liquid against his shoulder. Looking around he saw the Lictors' beading eyes staring back at him before its talons and barbed stranglers punctured his heart and lungs and went through his skull.

His cry was silent and muffled, more of a gurgle than anything but the assassin had heard it and quickly sent word to the forces outside, "It's alive."

*********************************

Only Fezir was still alive, the rest of his squad being inexperienced and either getting lost in the ship or being cut down before his eyes. Even though he was trained to be as shadow and had trained to be undetectable since he was a child it seemed to have no effect. Wherever he went he found more Tyranids.

Often he came to dead ends. There he was forced to cut his way through with the shadow blades attached to each of his arms. In other cases he had set demo charges, either as traps for following Tyranids or to make a new path for him to follow. No matter what though it was always in vain.

The ship seemed to be making walls where none had been and Fezir was sure he had gone in at least seven circles. It was hard for him to keep any sense of direction, slowly he began to lose track of time, minutes turning to hours, hours seemed like days, and finally time itself faded to nothing. He no longer knew where he was or how long he had been there. He was left with one instinct: Kill.

The lone Eldar assassin became an instrument of destruction. The very face of death. He no longer feared it, he no longer cared whether he lived or died. All he knew, all he could do was kill. Tasting the iron of his own blood slowly clotting in his mouth, the pain from his injuries seemed to fade. His arms and legs were separated from himself, he was immune to the throbbing pain from gashes and cuts that now were markers of his torn and tangled shape that had once been a tall majestic frame.

Turning around he threw a plasma grenade in the direction of onrushing gaunts. It mattered little what he hit. He seemed to have all the time in the world and the Tyranids seemed willing to give him all the targets in the world. Checking his pistols he saw he was running low on ammo. Just four clips left, though each had forty shurikens, unless aimed with great precision few would pierce through the hide and carapace of the swarm. Only one demo charge left, and down to three grenades he decided to conserve the rest.

Silently he turned in a new direction, the twisting tunnels of the organic vessel long ago disorienting him. Down the winding corridor he saw a new foe, it mattered little what. The creature stood nearly three meters tall and had no apparent head. With a quick prayer to Ynnead Fezir launched himself at the monster. Blades drawn, anger giving him strength and sustenance, he headed towards the creature, the whole time the beast stood there, silently, as if mocking him. Finally as he reached his target the duel began. The tyrant had no reason, no soul, just bred to kill. A mindless hunter. The Shadow Assassin had only one purpose now, Kill, Escape and he was fueled by revenge.

The assassin made two clean swipes across what looked like where the creature’s heart should be, both cutting deep beneath its carapace but neither wounding the creature. As a large talon swept towards him, he rolled and then jumped avoiding another talon racing towards the ground. Turning in time to a new threat he parried a large clawed hand. However he couldn't turn in time to dodge the last arm as it swiped across his shoulder. A large gash appeared across his armor and underneath he could feel the bone cracking and blood spreading. Soon venom from the claw started to corrode his cloak burning a large hole through it and into his armor. But the blow had blown him free of the beast's embrace, at least for the moment. Sternly he stood back up, unaware of the damage to his now nearly crippled left arm. A look of defiance and crazed bloodshed was seen in his eyes, the only feature on his otherwise hidden face. Tears burned down his face from the pain even though he didn't notice it. He ran at the creature parrying the two talons and using the momentum to drive him over the creature, he turned mid-air landing directly behind the creatures exposed back. He thrust his two blades into the weaker areas around the creatures’ legs hoping to at least slow it down. Then with a carried will and momentum he ducked beneath the massive creature, rolling underneath the behemoth he placed both blades into the creature’s abdomen, driving deep and tasting the ichor and blood that spilt from the wound. The creature having started turning around staggered back to see what had hit it from below. It was then that Fezir saw the things head. Dragging himself up he drove to slit its throat but was caught off guard as two massive claws grabbed him. With a burst of strength he broke free enough to strike the creatures exposed head. As he did so the creature's mouth widened, swallowing his arm.

Slowly the sinews and bone snapped under the pressure. Bright red blood started to drop from his severed left arm as the creature dropped him to the slimy floor. As the creature began to shift to kill this intruder in its home Fezir simply smiled. As the talons ripped through what remained of his left arm the grin on the assassin's face only widened. The creature began to make the coup de grace when suddenly it was taken by a fit of trembling. Fezir used what little strength he had to crawl towards the wall and then dragged himself off the ground. Sweat pouring down his face, eyes closing from fatigue, all he could do was laugh. The creature had taken the bait. Looking in wry amusement Fezir activated the rune on his other wrist. The creature exploded, splattering its life essence across the bemused assassin and across the corridor.

Finally the assassin made his way past the corridor and saw the light of the outside. He had made it, he was free. As the lone Eldar bleeding and near death walked out into the sunlight he lay down, his body a disheveled shell, his soul finally at peace, the assassin fell down and began to drift in and out of consciousness. As the other Alescain outside came to him there was nothing they could do. Fezir was dead. Quickly one of the others grabbed Fezir's spirit stone.

[Archon Ahkrenath]

A young ranger ran down the hall with blinding speed. Moving left and right, he sidestepped around a group of farseers who were whispering amongst themselves. He caught a few words: It … the shadow … lost … dark … killed. The ranger continued to run by realizing word had spread of Fezir’s death. The ranger halted before the spirit seer’s quarters and sat down in silent prayer.

*********************************************************************

Iofeth Dreszi had been asleep when she received the first call. As the second came in she got out of bed and reflexively reached for her com-crystal. It wasn’t there. She stretched remembering the blue crystal she had left at home. With one last glance where the crystal should have been, she walked to the com-screen near the door to the main corridor.

When she reached the com-screen and hit the activation rune she spoke in a mild voice, “Yes?”

On the screen in front of her was the image of a man with flowing black robes and white trim. The collar and cuffs were of a serene gray, which identified him as an officer of the fleet. Shifting in his chair he looked agitated though she couldn’t think of a reason why he should be. Before she had gone to sleep everything had been calm. She looked at her wrist-chron and saw only seven hours had passed.

As Iofeth looked back up, the fleet officer responded in a morbid tone, “Two hours our agents amongst the exodites of Anarsis IV sent word of an attack by the Devourer. Alesca’ilairon led the Dark Shadow guild to the planet and has been holding the Tyranids back, Alesca’fezir led the Shadow’s Maw guild in an attack against the main hive ship on the planet, Alesca’idiel is leading the Starfall guild to activate an ancient weapon from before the Fall that should wipe the Devourer’s taint from the system and keep him from returning, and Alesca’dar’el is commanding the fleet…”

Iofeth made sure to take every scrap of information in but failed to make a connection. The only connection seemed to be her marriage to Fezir but that had no bearing on the current situation … unless. Suddenly she felt a knot in her stomach. She could sense the dire news and it made her heart skip a beat. Her chest seemed to tighten and her throat felt empty. All she managed to say was, “Who?”

With a withdrawn expression the officer started to reply, “I’m sorry, nothing could be done. Fezir’s body was beaten beyond recognition. He is dead, but his spirit lives on. I’m so … sor …sorry. Before the Devourer could do any more to him, we reached him. His spirit stone is intact and ready for a wraith body. When you are ready the ritual can be performed.”

With that the screen flickered off, lifeless like her husbands body. Staring at the empty void she saw her reflection. She almost saw the empty void inside herself.

Fezir is dead. The words stung like needles in her spine. Her heart stiffened and froze like ice. The words turned her worst fears into a stonewall she could not escape. They seemed to burn away every thread of her being like a white, cleansing flame. They were like wind and sand that tore the flesh from her bones. Her husband, the man she loved, the father of her children, was dead. Nothing would ever be the same.

She would never feel his touch. The warm embrace of love and affection was forever dead. Though they would still talk lovingly, so many possibilities would never be open. He could never teach his son or daughter all that he knew, and he could never show them all he had seen. He would never see his third unborn child except for a fragile wraith sight. Iofeth had planned to tell him of the child when they reached their home on Alescailainos. The plan now filled her with guilt. If I had told him he might have made a less dangerous choice. He might have been standing, alive, ready to wake me with romantic kisses and gifts, but now he is dead. All because I wanted to surprise him when we returned home.

Her worst fear was that he would not be the same. Many people were changed forever by the ritual. It was as if they were no longer the same person. Something had changed. A part of their soul was lost. Death, the ritual, maybe both took something from people and left them a shell of their former selves. And no craftworld but Alescailainos seemed affected by this plight. Not you my love. You are too strong and noble hearted for that. But in truth she was uncertain. It was the curse of the Alescain, what could protect him?

Walking slowly as if lost, she stepped into the next room. She walked past another door and slowly closed it behind her. Stripping out of her clothes she imagined stripping off all the pain and agony. Stepping into the shower she looked like an angel that had gone pale after too much sadness. Frail mortality had stolen her spirit. As hot water cleansed her body and washed away tears, she felt it cleanse her mind and soul, taking away the guilt and sorrow that weighed her down. After she dried, she dressed in a long gown of gold and lavender. Solemnly she dressed in her sacred armor visualizing it warding off evil. Fezir always helped me prepare for the ceremony. Now it’s his ceremony and I cannot fail him. Then she grabbed the scarlet ceremonial sash Fezir had given her. It was her favorite color. She looked through her belongings and found a dark green sash. Fezir had always loved the color on her though he never told her why.

Now fully dressed and with her ceremonial armor equipped, she regained her composure. Her helmet's mask portrayed a tangled web of sadness and grief. Emerald tears were inset into the face, and the eyepieces were designed to give the appearance that the mask was crying. But even the sadness that blanketed her helmet gave off an eerie beauty of its own. Few other than Eldar would understand.

With purpose to her stride Iofeth walked to the main corridor and headed towards her work quarters. Everyone she passed offered silent prayers and quick condolences, or they simply quit moving and talking and let her pass. When she finally approached the quarters she saw a lone ranger seated on the floor and praying. When she reached the solitary figure, he handed he her a bright stone that glowed with life, and then he clasped her hands saying, “Praised be Ynnead, Lord of the Dead.”

Remembering the blessing Iofeth completed it, “Praised be Isha, Mother of us all. Through them both we shall be reborn like the phoenix arising from its ashes. Like Asuryan the Phoenix King.” The ranger walked away into darkness, saying his own silent prayers. Iofeth entered the room in front of her.

The mourning angel began the ritual.

[To Be Continued]