A Price to Pay

[savis]

This was my first attempt at writing for the Black Library but since I haven't heard anything I have to interpret that as a refusal. But nevermind, I had great fun writing it and I would love to hear what criticism you can provide to make my writing better.

 

Without further ado....

 

A Price to Pay

by Andreas Savhammar

 

I

The Tower of Shaina'th somewhere in the Eye of Terror.

 

- Again! Show it to me again! Lucius’ voice was dark and rich and the level of anticipation was so

intense it almost made the command take physical form. The thick tapestry that decorated the walls

with suggestive motives dampened the echoes but still managed to make the voice sound even more

commanding.

The daemon that the voice was directed at held up the vid slate in its slender hands again and for

the third time in the last hour, inserted the slates connectors into one of the many sets of orifices

that dotted its body. The vid slate sparkled and lit up with an unholy light as the daemon’s eyes

focused on a point not seen in the physical universe. As the glow from the screen spread out it

seemed to take physical form as it sparkled against the perfectly inlaid marble floor. The white mark

of Slaanesh set against a purple background sent miniature lightning bolts flying as the glow spread

in a hypnotically slow manner. The shadows pulled back into the recesses and revealed an empty

chamber apart from a massive bed made from cast iron. Its sides decorated with all kinds of human

and xenos creatures challenging each other at martial duels, forever locked in a dance of death.

The glow from the vid shifted to an emerald hue as images started to appear on its screen. First one

by one, only flashing by at the blink of an eye, then more and more and finally uncountable images

circled around at an alarming rate, a sword, an arena, a daemon trapped, alien rituals and more, all

intermeshed in a chaotic dance.

Lucius leaned in and his scarred face projected a want and a need so strong that no ordinary man

could ever hope to feel even an ounce of it. His eyes narrowed as he tried to register as many details

as he could from the elusive visions. The image of the sword, a beautifully engraved sabre, made his

eyes water from sheer lust.

- Where?! Damn you! Show me where it is! Lucius’ voice cracked into falsetto as he kicked the

subservient daemon. It laughed at the kick and with a disturbingly pleased purr it started to feed

more energy through the vid slates’ cabling.

For a moment the slate cleared and showed an Eldar Void Stalker engaged in fierce battle with an

unknown ship, although the archaic design suggested Demiurg origin. Lucius focused on the stars

behind the ships trying to decipher the puzzle they presented. As the battle raged on, the ships

suddenly came close to a vividly blue and green planet that had previously been out of view. The

daemon shuddered and the view zoomed in on the planet revealing a vibrant green jungle. Lucius

practically beamed with anticipation, never before had the daemon produced images like this. He

kicked the daemon again and the view shifted. Set against the green backdrop he could make out

an ancient temple with elaborate carvings all over. Lucius’ mind raced as he ruled out system after

system until all the information connected and gave him the answer he was looking for.

- Finally! He screamed triumphantly and raced out of the chamber.

As he left the daemon behind him, he could hear it giggling uncontrollably but he paid it no mind. On

the slate that started to flicker and die another two Void Stalkers appeared and started firing at the

already heavily damaged vessel. As the ship exploded, the daemon burst out into a hysterical

laughter.

 

II

 

In full armour Lucius strode through the tower. Servants, daemons and fellow marines hurried to get

out of his way, the smile splitting his face was something that they all had learned to both recognise

and dread. For every step that Lucius took the corridors and hallways seemed to twist and turn in

directions that didn’t quite add up but as he was accustomed to the strange geometry of the Tower

Lucius paid it no mind and navigated them all with ease. As he turned around a corner his steps

slowed and the smile contorted in to a vicious snarl. He hated the person he had to meet and he

hated the fact that he, Lucius, needed help. In the far end of the corridor before him the gleaming

metal floor gave way to an organic rug of feathers that stretched out and under a square copper door

marked with an elaborate ´T´. As he approached the door a myriad of daemonic eyes peered out at

him from the walls and ceiling, all reporting their own perverted vision back to their master. He

raised his hand to knock on the door but before his hand connected the door swung inwards and he

entered without hesitation.

- There will be a price. A voice met him from the dimly lit chamber.

- I have yet to state my claim, Wizard. Lucius’ voice was firm but with a red hot undertone and as he

moved further into the room he could hear feet scuttling for cover. He quenched a feeling of nausea

that came with each visit to the sorcerer’s abode. The lack of stimulant odours and arousing

perfumes would have been a blessing for most men but to Lucius the smell of clean air was almost

revolting. As in the corridor outside, the walls were alive with eyes that tried to discern every secret

in the small room. A table inlaid with intricate scrollwork and a cupboard made from what looked like

black glass were the room’s only furniture, the cupboard seemed to have no proper door but Lucius

knew it contained the collected magic lore of the wizard.

- Nevertheless there will be a price. You know I see many things and you wear your feelings on the

outside. You are not a cautious man Lucius.

The voice’s owner entered from a hidden alcove allowing Lucius to finally get a view of him. Clad in

archaic power armour that had been warped and changed by the dark arts of its master, Tobias was a

sight to behold. His face was hidden beneath a silver mask without features and it connected to the

back of his head through a series of pearl-decorated wires. Lucius had long since given up on trying to

figure out what Legion or chapter that Tobias paid his due to as every clue led him in a different

direction. The wizard was an enigma, never confirming nor denying his involvement in plots or deals

and never ever giving up an ounce of information as to his past. Lucius suspected that Tobias was not

as old as he gave appearance of and that his allegiance had once rested in other domains but without

proof it was just idle speculations.

- I'm not. Lucius confirmed. But I am a dangerous man and you are better off not playing games with

me. If you already know what I want then name your price and I'll pay you in a matter to my liking.

- I know what you want in that respect that you need a sorcerers ways so much that you are willing

to come to me even though you both hate me and loathe me. You serve your master well in

experiencing your feelings to the fullest but it makes you somewhat transparent. I'm sorry to say

however that although your feelings are clear I can't say the same for your reasons. What do you

need my help for Lucius? And what do I stand to gain from it?

- Pleasant as ever, aren't you Tobias? I am on the verge of procuring the finest sword ever handled by

man or alien and I need your help to bind it to me. In his excitement Lucius took another step

towards Tobias and was met with a rustling noise. As he looked down he could see feathers of every

colour that suddenly all seemed to be aligned at his person. Feeling the hidden threat he stopped

mid-stride.

- Bind it to you? Lucius I know you have illusions of grandeur but I don't believe you think you are a

daemon quite yet. An inanimate object needs a daemonic host for a binding to work and although

you clearly despise the psychic gifts you should still know that, so what kind of binding are you

talking about?

- For someone as farsighted as yourself you can be quite rigid. I need you to bind a daemon, first to

the blade and then bind the daemon to me so that we form an interdependent bond.

Tobias’ eyes narrowed and Lucius could see his mind racing behind them. As he looked down he

could see that the multi-coloured feathers had yet again re-directed themselves into an intricate

pattern.

- You do not need a sorcerer of my calibre for something this mundane so what is the catch?

Lucius’ eyes lit up and a smile spread across his tormented face.

- The blade Tobias! The blade is made by the Old Ones, perfect in every aspect and incredibly

powerful since it still holds the essence of the Old Ones’ touch. Although your services come at a

price I know that you are somewhat trustworthy for a wizards and that you will fulfil your end of the

bargain. Too many would seize the blade for themselves and they would either use it in their own

petty way or destroy it from lack of knowledge.

The sorcerer spun round and turned his back to Lucius.

- And you are certain of this?

- The dark prince has granted me a vision that made it all clear. Lucius was getting anxious know as

he could feel the wizards interest.

- There will be a price. Tobias stated once again, this time with a more demanding tone to his voice.

- You will leave the sword in my care for twenty four hours after you retrieve it to do with as I will.

Dark jealousy pumped through Lucius’ veins as he thought about the wizard holding his perfect

blade. It took all of his will not to draw his own sword and cut the man down where he stood. The

thought, however, of finding another wizard powerful enough that wouldn't require more tangible

payment irked him and he knew the answer in the same moment it came out of his mouth.

- Done! He spat the words out. But after twenty four hours I will have the sword again or by Slaanesh

you will learn new ways to suffer.

The sorcerer merely nodded and Lucius could hear the door swing open behind him. For the second

time today Lucius raced out of a door with a sadistic glee on his face. Also for the second time he left

a room that was soon filled with laughter.

 

III

 

It was strangely dark in the launch bay. Strange due to the huge chaos star that was ripped into the

floor and burned with warp fuelled fires and still seemed to cast no light. The star was not a

permanent feature to the launch bay but changed as the Tower’s allegiance changed depending on

who was the most prominent guest, or Champion, as the Tower declared. As Lucius entered, the

huge hangar echoed with each step when he crossed the floor towards the three perfectly aligned

Thunderhawks that stood there waiting. The stray starlight from the viewports revealed the dust in

the air and a heavy scent of pungent oils teased Lucius’ senses. Lucius let his eyes wander over the

ships one by one and when his eyes rested on the last machine it shuddered from the inside as if the

malignant spirit that rested within resented his eyes. The transporter was similar to those in use by

the Imperium but far from the same, while the outline could be mistaken the interior throbbed and

pulsed with warp energy, a potent daemon controlling power and basic functionality in the ship and

in places bending the hull to suit its more organic nature. He came over to it and marvelled at the

skin stretched across its nose. A patchwork of no less than 150 Imperial guardsmen had been made

especially to cover the front of the ship. He took great pride that more than half of them were

defeated by him in such a way that they survived the battle and could be skinned alive too better

preserve their hides and even in some rare places bind their souls to the hide.

Lucius had sent a summoning to the members of his squad but he was the first to arrive and he

enjoyed the moment of silence. The other habitants of the Tower of Shaina’th had dubbed his squad

the Degenerate Host, a name he found most appropriate and he rolled it off his tongue to get a taste

for it. He had handpicked the other five members with great care and although they were too proud

to admit it he knew that they all felt honoured by the fact that he, Lucius, had picked them. A

sudden low murmur from the souls trapped within his armour made him turn around.

Across the floor came two members of the Degenerate Host, Solomon and Varinio and even though

they were still a fair bit off he could hear their argument as clear as if they were standing next to him.

Lucius recognised the argument as he had heard it several times before, the ongoing debate on what

was the ultimate close combat experience. While Solomon raved about his lightning claws, each

embedded with the finest drugs and toxic that master Bile could produce, Varinio dismissed the with

a wave of his heavily mutated arm that ended in a giant claw. - The only weapon that can be good

enough is that of your own body! By transcending the mere mortality of flesh and imbedding myself

with the warp I can feel every kill on a whole new level.

Varinio’s voice came heavily distorted through the face grill of his helmet. Although the other

members of the Host preferred to fight with bare heads, Varinio’s helmet was permanently fused to

his skull taking on an organic shape with horns growing directly from the helmet itself.

- To allow the dark prince part of your body is to welcome being subservient to him. To win his

ultimate price of eternal pleasure we must strive to better ourselves by using the tools we

have and not becoming gibbering spawns by slowly altering our bodies until nothing remains.

Lucius shut out the noise from the pointless discussion and focused on the flamboyant figure coming

through one of the access gates to the launch bay. Pietor wore every colour imaginable, a bang of

white hair sloped over the right side of his face while the left side of his skull was shaved clean. In his

arms he carried a heavy sonic blaster decorated with furs and patterns that would make any sane

man’s eyes bleed. As he came closer he gave Lucius a slight nod that was returned before entering

the ship and joining Varinio and Solomon.

That left only two out and Lucius was not surprised to see them enter at the same time but from

opposite directions. Simeon and Kaeron, the two never seemed to enjoy each other’s company

except from when they where duelling in the arena. Both followed in their protégé’s footsteps and

used the sword as their favoured weapon. Only Simeon though had had the skill to start handle the

whip along with the sword just like his mentor. Lucius’ eyes narrowed and he could hear the souls in

his armour screaming for the kill as he pondered over how dangerous Simeon really had become. He

had made remarkable improvements to his martial prowess and Lucius was sure they had been

noticed by the Dark Prince. After their last raid out he had all of a sudden started using a demonically

possessed blade in the arena, never acknowledging where it came from. Lucius made a mental note

to deal with Simeon when they got back from this quest, the arena would help him sort out the weed

in his crop.

Simeon and Kaeron seemed to have used a synchronized walk as they both reached the waiting ship

within a heartbeats difference. They stood motionless and silent before Lucius both waiting to get

the first response from their leader. Lucius let the moment linger and couldn’t help to notice how

alike they were both each other as well as the members of the Host that had come before them.

Proud, envious and capable beyond measure, Lucius knew what he wanted close to him and how to

get it. Instead of acknowledging either of them Lucius turned and entered the Thunderhawk.

- Inside! We’re leaving. He commanded as he pressed the ramps closing mechanism.

The two warriors rushed inside as the ramp closed behind them like a giant maw. Up front Kaeron

eased the daemons’ attitude to give the engines lift off power. Several miles into space the

Iconoclast destroyer ‘Immorality’s Youth’ waited to take them to their goal.

 

IV

 

Immorality’s Youth exited into real space like a fish breaking the water. Lucius and his squad stood

looking out of the starboard viewport. Their faces were set in a state of bliss from viewing the

hypnotic dream world of the warp and it took them a second or two to come to grasp with the much

more substantial real space.

A warning scream coming from the ships communication system broke their trance as the ship

banked heavily to port.

- Incoming! Battle stations! Eldar battle ships coming in high and low.

The gargoyles set around the ship transmitted the captain’s warning and all around the squad

daemons and slaves started running towards their stations. Lucius looked around at his squad mates

and at the same moment as the ship shuddered from a direct hit from a lance weapon they nodded

and turned towards the docking bay. The light flickered and switched over to red emergency

lightning as the energy was re-routed to more critical functions. Lucius almost lost his footing as the

ship lurched and went into a dramatic dive when its captain desperately tried to avoid the nimble

attackers.

The ship itself screamed as another lance beam glanced the living hull. A jagged tear opened up into

space and the vacuum sucked out a dozen worker daemons into space. For a moment the daemons

seemed frozen in time before they, one by one, popped as soap bubbles leaving nothing but a trace

of psychic energy behind.

- Hurry! Lucius called out to his squad with an uncharacteristic desperation in his voice.

Although Slaanesh had deemed him worthy of an eternal rebirth from time and again it had always

been from personal combat. One single combatant who had enjoyed the moment of victory and

thereby condemning his or her soul to an eternity locked within the confines of Lucius’ armour. How

Slaanesh would judge him from being shot out of space as an unknown casualty Lucius didn’t know

but he doubted he would enjoy the experience. He knew that while the Dark Prince could be

generous with pleasure he also had a way of twisting pain even beyond Lucius’ most masochistic

desires. The thought seemed even more important when another hit to the ship shut down the warp

core engine and all of a sudden they were drifting through space, a floating target to the birds of prey

that were stalking outside.

Racing through the corridors Lucius finally reached Immorality’s Youth’s launch bay he felt his pulse

beating at a record high. The possibility to be shot down now when he was so close to finding the

perfect sword was disturbing. To linger on the thought of the sword and that it might slip out of his

grasp was painful and Lucius directed his mind to more immediate problems.

- Kaeron! Start up the Thunderhawk and tell the bridge to open the blast door.

- Simeon, get the readings from the ship’s augurs and load them into some form of memory

stack or data entity. We need that information before we drop. Both Kaeron and Simeon hurried to

their assigned tasks while Lucius, Varinio and Solomon entered the Thunderhawk’s crew compartment.

Pietor went after Kaeron hoping for a chance to use the ship’s formidable weaponry against the Eldar outside.

A massive hit shook the ship again and pipes made from fused flesh and steel burst and started

pumping out cooling liquid on to the cargo bay floor. Simeon jumped back from the cogitator that he

had been working on, narrowly escaping the freezing fluid. He started running back to the ship with a

single data crystal in his hand and as he sat down in the velvet flight seat he handed the crystal to

Lucius with a resentful look that spoke more than any mere words could have.

- Kaeron! Now please, we need to go. Urgency once more coloured Lucius’ voice.

- Engine status is good but the blast door is still closed I’ve got nowhere to go!

Lucius voiced an elaborate curse over the captain and his inability to provide them with a safe flight

when he heard Pietor’s mad wailing from the cockpit. The Thunderhawk's battle cannon barked and

the blast door buckled from the impact. Pietor took aim once more and at the second hit the doors

could take no more but peeled off and opened the launch bay to the cold heart of space.

- Here we go! Kaeron murmured as he forced the throttle forward and the great Thunderhawk

careened forward.

As the Thunderhawk exited the launch bay the Destroyer took a final hit from the Eldar’s pulsar

batteries. Immorality’s Youth cracked amidships and the warp core flared out in all directions

scattering debris in all directions.

Kaeron fought with the controls in the Thunderhawk trying to desperately take command over the

daemon bound inside the metal hull. Although the daemon had no voice he could still feel it snarling

at both him as well as at the Eldar attackers. He wrenched the controls over and narrowly avoided

the salvo from a lance battery. While huge and terribly powerful they were not meant to be targeting

small vessels like the Thunderhawk which gave Kaeron a little edge when trying to navigate.

A second narrow escape where Kaeron almost twisted the handles of their mountings brought them

into spiralling dive towards the planet. The ships daemon finally stopped fighting Kaeron and eased

in with his control.

- Bring me the coordinates! He yelled back down into the crew compartment.

Lucius half entered the cockpit and handed Kaeron the data crystal that Pietor had retrieved.

- Hold on. Kaeron’s voice was cool and focused as he reversed the direction of the downward

spiral. The force of the manoeuvre pressing Lucius up against the door frame.

- That should be the end of it. Kaeron stated.

- We’re in the upper atmosphere now and they can’t follow us here.

He inserted the crystal into the data matrix and released the data flow in to the daemons logic

engine. He viewed the numbers and symbols that came back at him on the screen to his right

interpreting the data in a habitual pattern.

- We’re right on top of it! The words were just out of his mouth when an explosion rocked

the Thunderhawk and tore it from the sky. Lucius fell back in to the crew compartment as a trio

of Nightwing interceptors broke formation around them.

- Brace yourself! This is going to be rough!

The sound of Kaeron’s voice was almost drowned out by a staccato of impacts along the hull. Glass

shattered and a wailing from the air suddenly sucked out made it impossible to say anything more.

The Thunderhawk broke the tree canopy and went down with a violent impact that sent waves of

dirt and mud far into the sky.

The three Nighthawks circled for a second over the crash site but with the dense jungle cover they

could do nothing more and returned to where they had came from.

 

V

 

Lucius awoke and almost lashed out at Pietor who had just shaken him. He stayed his hand and

looked around trying to get a bearing. He was still inside the Thunderhawk that much was clear.

Although they had somehow managed to land, the ship had stopped in an upside down fashion

leaving everything that hadn’t been tied down scattered all over. Lucius needed no equipment to tell

him that the ship was dead, the lack of pulsating sounds and organic vibrations in the hull gave all the

information he needed that the daemonic being had left the ship and was no longer providing power.

That in itself presented a problem in regards to leaving this forsaken planet but that problem would

have to wait until Lucius had the sword. A trickle of blood from a cut in his forehead ran along the

scarred patchwork of his face and Lucius licked it away with a trace of satisfaction.

- Is everybody alive? He asked to no-one in particular.

As nobody answered he took a moment to scan his crew. Pietor was over by Simeon, trying to wake

him up. Lucius trained eye could see that muscles were responding to the shake so he could tell that

Simeon was also still alive. Solomon was adjusting something in his lightning claws clearly

concentrating on the task to the fullest and shutting out the surrounding world while Varinio was

over by the assault ramp trying to force it open. That left Kaeron missing and Lucius moved over to

the cockpit and glanced in.

The armed glass of the cockpit had broken in midflight and was now buried deep in mud. He could

see shuriken shrapnel from the Eldar's guns buried deep in the controls and as he glanced over the

pilot’s seat he found it covered with blood. By skill or luck the Eldar attackers had managed to pierce

the windshield and almost sever Kaeron’s head from its body. Mixed emotions came running through

Lucius’ mind as he both enjoyed the sight of Kaeron’s cut throat as well as damned the fact that he

was one man short. Lucius took a deep breath and savoured the smell of drying blood before he

turned back and returned to the others.

Simeon had started to come to and was shaking of the stiffness in his body. Solomon had apparently

been able to adjust his claws to his liking and was now over at Varinio’s side trying to carve the lid of

the emergency hatch release with his ignited claws. Lucius looked at Pietor and gave him a slight nod.

Pietor knew what was requested and wrestled his sonic blaster free from the debris. A normal sonic

blaster wouldn’t stand a chance against the heavy blast door, being design for mowing down heavy

infantry and lesser targets. Pietor’s blaster however was a different story altogether. Bound with

warp energies and inscribed with unholy runes and symbols it was closer to a lascannon in its

potency. Having constructed it from scratch Pietor wielded it like a surgeon would wield a scalpel and

despite the fact that his squad mates were standing next to the door he let the gun roar. The beam

coming from the weapon was made from pure sound, concentrated, focused and amplified a

thousand times, and even though it was concentrated to a narrow gap it made the chamber

reverberate with the sound of countless lost souls as it punched through the assault ramp and

opened their improvised caged to the surroundings.

One by one the squad stepped out into the moist jungle heat outside. The air smelled in equal

measures from rotting vegetation and intoxicating flowers. All around them the jungle moved with

life on all scales. The beauty of the planet was astounding and it made an impression even on the

perverted minds on the small group of Chaos Space Marines. As light trickled down through the

jungles canopy they could see the surrounding area coming to life with a million different hues of

green. The ship itself had left a black scar in the jungle floor before coming to rest in a knee deep

bayou where swarms of insects greeted the new arrivals.

- Where to? Lucius direct his question at Pietor whom he knew would have the best opinion

from having spent the descent and following crash in the cockpit.

Pietor didn’t speak but looked around as if listening to a tune in his head. His head stopped when he

looked back at the furrow created by the crash and simply started walking. Used to his behaviour

they all followed in his footsteps, spreading out and watching the jungle with a practiced ease.

Varinio and Solomon brought up the rear with a prolonged discussion of which one of them would

have opened the ramp had not Pietor intervened.

For the first hundred meters or so the hike was easy, the tumbling Thunderhawk having levelled the

ground and its obstacles. After that the jungle became dense, trees reached heights of a hundred

meter and vines were growing in between, making the journey arduous. As they moved they could

hear animals and birds moving out of their way as if sensing the intruder’s malignant alignment.

Hours went by with no change in scenery until something white and grey could be seen a short

distance away. No words were spoken as Lucius and his band spread out to circle in on the target.

Nothing moved and as Lucius came closer he realised it was just a statue. The subject of the statue

seemed strange to him, as if someone had try to depict the cold blooded lizards of the jungle as

beings with a benevolent intelligence. The statue was overgrown with the roots from a tree with

dropping branches and Lucius somehow knew that this was neither the first nor the last tree to grow

over the statue.

- We’re getting closer. He told his squad who resumed their vigilance over the jungle.

The adoration of the Old Ones he was looking at was probably created at the dawn of time when

Eldar ruled the galaxy and his own species was nothing but a speck on the ocean’s bottom. He

reached out and touched the statue with his naked hand. The surface was smooth and cold to his

naked hand but he felt no magical residues or haunting mind traps. They navigated even more slowly

now with Pietor in the lead and Lucius coming right behind. More statues in various sizes started

dotting the jungle floor. Most depicted the same benevolent lizard like face but some reminded him

of Eldar, Orks and various other alien races. A statue depicting a crustacean like creature with paired

appendages and a pair of membranous wings sent shivers down Lucius’ spine, he looked again and

although he had seen many things there was something about this particular statue that disturbed

him deep in the remnants of his soul.

Finally Pietor stopped and Lucius aligned his eyes with Pietor’s to see the reason. In a large clearing

he could see it, the temple from his vision and the prophesized location for the sword. White as

marble and inlaid with the most intricate filigree one could imagine the temple dominated the place

and seemed to urge the jungle to stay out of its way. Red jewels of various sizes were set into the

temples walls and roof and they sparkled as the sun light hit, sending reflections like miniature lasers

all around the clearing. His pulse started racing again and his breath went shallow as he could hear

the tempting whispers of Slaanesh urging him to take the sword in the name of the Dark Prince. He

was just about to burst out into a clearing when a movement in the corner of his eye stopped him.

He shifted his focus to the direction of the disturbance but saw nothing apart from the temples

outline against the green jungle. Something lingered in the back of his mind from the visions that he

had seen on vid-slate, a feeling of danger and exposure that he couldn’t put his finger to. He took a

deep breath and forced his pulse down.

- This is the place. He told the squad, forcing himself to turn around and face his squad instead

of the alluring temple.

- We need to secure the surroundings before entering. Something is amiss here and I will not

wander the same path as Kaeron. The temple is large but the clearing works to our

advantage so we will divide the area between us and keep it under overwatch until the

morning.

- What of the Eldar? Simeon demanded. They went down hard on us on our way here and I’m

sure they’ve not given up on eradicating us. Are you deaf to the sweet whispers of our Dark

mistress?

The venom in his voice took on an almost tangible taste as he derided Lucius’ decision. The fact that

he used the Dark prince’s feminine attribute only served to separate him more from Lucius as he

knew the later preferred the masculine form.

- You will do as you are told Simeon or are you so eager to taste the sweet pain of death?

Lucius voice was razor sharp and subconsciously he shifted his stance so he would be ready

for both attack and defence.

Simeon’s eyes burned with hatred as he stared at Lucius and it felt like time came to a standstill with

neither wind nor insects moving. After a few seconds that felt like hours Simeon turned his head in

subservience.

- Slaanesh favours you and I will do as you command... for the time being. Although his eyes

had been averted the animosity still hung heavy with each word spoken.

 

VI

 

Simeon raced through the jungle as quickly as his mind raced with thoughts of the sword. Lucius’

description from the vision had painted a picture in Simeon’s mind that burned a hole from want and

desire. To hold such a sword and focus through it in a mortal duel must be the ultimate experience in

regards to close combat. He treasured the thought and let his imagination wander to a place where

he held the sword and in the grace of Slaanesh he was allowed to triumph over Lucius and put him to

his final resting place. The vision made his heart race and he could barely take in what he saw as he

reached his appointed perimeter. Right there in front of him was a secondary entrance to the

temple, as the first one it was set on top of a long series of stairs but it opened to the surroundings

without being barred by a heavy golden door. A sign, clearly it must be a sign from Slaanesh, that his

thoughts and visions were true and not just drug induced hallucination. Simeon could wait no more

but instead raced across the short clearing and started climbing the stairs. He realized that he would

be seen by Solomon at least but he trusted that Solomon’s sick interest in betrayals would keep him

from setting the alarm too soon.

As he reached the top of the stairs he risked a glance back and managed to meet Solomon’s

perverted smile for a moment. The look said everything and satisfied with the outcome Simeon

entered the temple.

All along the corridor that spread out before him lights were built into the walls and spread a warm

glow over the white metal-like material that the temple was built from. Simeon was silently

impressed with the temples construction. Wherever he looked a smooth surface met his eyes, no

edges, no imperfections. Whoever had built the temple had done so with technology that far

outdated anything that Lucius had ever seen.

The corridor opened up to a larger hallway where alien writings were traced along the walls and

strange iconography tried to give him information that he couldn’t understand. A curved shape

reminded Simeon of the written word for Slaanesh and since it was located above the entrance to

another corridor, Simeon took it as a sign and followed it.

The corridor ended at the top of a large amphitheatre designed to hold a thousand spectators. In the

centre a large empty floor reminded Simeon of the gladiatorial arenas back at the Tower of

Shaina’th. The scale was much grander here though and five giant statues each holding a large dish

where fires burned with white flames. Simeon recognized the style of the statues as being the same

as those abandoned in the jungle and among the five he could distinguish some kind of proto-Eldar

and another reminiscent of an Ork. The other three statues where stranger though and he didn’t

know if they represented real creatures or if they were just the figment on an alien minds

imagination.

Simeon took another step forward and his eyes were drawn to the theatre’s floor. The sword had

been laid upon a scarlet dais in the middle of the arena and just waited for him to claim it. His lust

increased by the second and he started forward. That movement became Simeon’s last. With a

vicious cut a blade lashed out at him from a narrow niche. The mirror-polished blade performed a

perfect semi-circle and struck true taking Simeon’s head clean off. It rolled down towards the arena

floor and came to rest at the bottom of the stairs with Simeon’s lustful expression still locked in its

features. The unseen assailant wiped his sword clean and stepped back inside the hidden alcove

waiting for more prey.

 

VII

 

As the hours moved along, twilight started setting in and the jungle noises changed in characteristic.

The buzzing from a million insects gave way to calls from small animals mixed with a plethora of bird

caws. A breeze picked up from the east carried with it a sweet scent of ripe fruits and vala leaves.

Lucius felt sentimental for a moment when he remembered the sweat delirium that came from the

juice of pressed vala leaves. The bush from where the leaves came was rare but spread throughout

the galaxy suggesting that they were some kind of original plant form that the first dominant species

had brought with them. With the connection to his coveted prize Lucius wondered if the Old Ones

had used the leaves as a stimulant as well or if that use had been denied to their particular biology.

Since they had set up their perimeter they had seen nothing. Lucius had a clear line of sight to

Solomon on his left and Varinio to his right and neither had reported anything out of the ordinary.

Lucius itched to get into the temple but he knew that the order he had given was sound and so he

forced his eagerness down.

Just as the sun passed over the horizon and the moonlight swept over the valley like a blanket

Solomon gave the hand signal for “Gather on my location”. Lucius felt suspicion spreading in his vein

but he passed the signal on to Varinio before he started moving towards Solomon. The two moons

orbiting the planet provided a generous amount of light and even though the jungle canopy blocked

some off, it was still plenty for the gen-enhanced senses of Lucius. Every fibre in Lucius’ body

screamed at him to hurry, that something was wrong with the sword, but he knew the value of

maintaining as much stealth as possible and so he moved through the jungle in a slow but efficient

way. As he reached Solomon his patience was at an end though.

- No games Solomon, what’s wrong? Lucius’ voice was sharp and allowed for nothing but clear

cut facts.

- Simeon is in the temple.

Although Simeon tried to hide it his voice still betrayed his immense pleasure from delivering the bad

news. His sadistic nature revelling in the fact that he had managed to hurt someone without

physically abusing them was delightful to him and a certain level of content spread across his face.

Lucius’ fist connected with the smile with such a speed and force that it levelled Solomon. While

painful Solomon couldn’t help but to smile even wider.

- You go too far! If you have betrayed my trust so far as to allow the sword to be touched by

Simeon...

Lucius let the threat hang in the air, the trapped souls in his armour cowered from his rage. A

nervous chill spread across Solomon’s spine as he slowly calculated Lucius’ thousands of years of

learning new ways to deliver pain. Solomon adored pain but there was something in Lucius’ dark

eyes that promised nothing but pain without any room for pleasure. Slowly Lucius turned around and

started running towards the same entrance Simeon had used. He raced up the stairs taking three to

four steps at a time. His rage carried him up to the top in no time. At the sight of the lit corridor that

carried on from the entrance he slowed down. He couldn’t see any movement but millennia of war

and combat had taught him to be cautious in times like these. He eased his sword an inch out of its

scabbard, preparing for a quick draw. At the same time he released his whip and let it drag along

the corridor’s floor. The daemon bound within the whip snarled at Lucius and the trapped souls in

Lucius’ armour tried to distance themselves from it creating a lopsided pattern across his armour.

As Lucius entered the first hallway he could smell a lingering scent from Simeon’s drug-induced

aroma. A snarl spread across Lucius’ face and, as the colour in his face rose from agitation, the criss-

cross pattern of scars on his face burned almost white. Lucius’ was able to trace the scent across the

chamber and in to the second corridor, and he could feel how he was getting closer for every second.

The views around him echoed from the visions he had seen and although some of them were visible

only for a fraction of a second they still triggered a feeling of déjà-vu. The arena that he had seen

more clearly was certain to be in this place and in that place he knew that the sword was waiting.

He exited the second corridor and stood looking out over the amphitheatre with the giant statues.

Finally he was there. This was where the object of his desires dwelled. He was just about to wander

down into the theatre’s floor when a whiff of blood changed his mind. Acting on a battle instinct

honed through countless duels he dodged to the side and in a smooth movement drew his sword

and blocked the most apparent angle of attack. Time slowed down as the mirror-polished sword that

had previously connected with Simeon’s neck now crashed down on Lucius’ blade. The blade’s owner

never stopped though, he continued the attack with another cut and then another. All came at

slightly different angles trying to find an opportunity to get behind Lucius’ guard. A scrape along his

shoulder guard followed by a sharp sting along his cheek sent a pleasuring chill down Lucius’ spine.

The precision in which they had been delivered made Lucius take the attack more seriously and he

focused his defence. Hard pressed, Lucius had to use all his strength and skill to ward of the furious

onslaught. A desperate wave with his whip gave him a moment to breath and he finally saw the

attacker properly.

Facing him was a lithe Eldar figure dressed in a multitude of colour’s that kept on flickering and

changing with every moment. His face was hidden in a smiling mask that gave off an almost arrogant

look. Lucius recognised him as a Harlequin, servants to the so called ‘Smiling God’, vicious adversaries

to chaos in general and Slaanesh in particular.

Lucius had no time to think as the Harlequin launch itself into the air and came at him again. Again

Lucius found himself on the retreat, parrying and blocking every cut from the Harlequin’s sword.

Trying desperately to get a counter-attack or riposte in he fell short and started to marvel at the

opponent’s skill. A spinning kick to his head delivered with a blinding speed almost blinded him and it

was only with great effort he managed to stave off the following side swipe from the deadly blade of

the Harlequin.

The Harlequin laughed as it somersaulted back giving more sustenance to the image of him being the

representative of a Laughing God. Lucius spat out a driblet of blood and he started to doubt that he

would win this duel. And more disturbing than that, Harlequins were said to be protected by

Slaanesh’s touch in death and Lucius seriously doubted that his reincarnation gift would be enough

to save him from this. To be killed by a representative of Slaanesh’s worst enemy would be a slap on

the face to the Dark Prince that Lucius would suffer from for a very long time if not forever.

Again Lucius train of thoughts was interrupted as the Harlequin danced back in. Every moment was

fluid and controlled beyond measure. As he closed in the pattern on his body changed and meshed

with the surrounding, coloured lozenges became white stripes as his feet made contact with the floor

only to change back into shadow grey spots indistinguishable from the shadows around. Lucius had

long since gotten used to the fact that most of his combatants wore masks or helmets and so he

never relied on reading the expression in his opponents face but normally read the movements of

the sword. Now he was transfixed with the fluid motion of the mirror blade and its razor-sharp edge.

He tried to measure the distance and pattern so he would know where it would strike and where it

would leave an opening. Again and again he found that he was too slow though and desperately had

to ward of the blows from the Harlequin swords-master. They circled each other and Lucius’ jerky

movement carried him to the edge of the arena entrance. There he saw it, the sabre of his vision, for

a moment it was in his field of vision before he was forced back again. A red hot hunger awoke in

Lucius’ belly and he knew that he had to have the sabre at all cost.

With a renewed vigour he lashed out with his whip in a daring feint trying to catch the Harlequin in a

scissor manoeuvre with his own blade. The Harlequin dodged the feint and lunged out on his own.

Stretching out he tried to thrust is blade into Lucius’ throat and thereby putting an end to the fight.

With an enormous effort of will that ended in a roar Lucius managed to reverse his cut and for the

first time his blade connected with his opponent. The blade tore into the Harlequin’s sword arm and

severed first muscle then tendons and bone. The Harlequin fell to the floor, chocked from the

immense pain and instant blood loss, his arm hanging by the merest thread of skin.

Lucius lashed out with his whip that coiled up around the Harlequin’s body and remaining arm. Sweat

poured down Lucius’ face as a grin spread across his face like a rictus mask.

- So where is your Laughing God now? Lucius taunted

The Harlequin only grunted in reply as Lucius’ daemon whip bit into his flesh. Struggling to stay

awake despite the trauma, the Harlequin simply turned his smiling mask to face Lucius.

- I know you think you are protected but I pray that Slaanesh will hear my words and focus his

power in the warp to manage an exception for you.

As Lucius spoke these words, the fires burning in the statues huge dishes shifted in colour from white

to a warning yellow. Lucius too focused upon his victim failed to notice this and as he lifted his sword

the Harlequin let out a last pearling laughter before Lucius cut him from collarbone to his heart in a

single stroke.

 

VIII

 

As Lucius released the whip from the dead Harlequin he could hear steps moving slowly from the

corridor he had arrived through. At first he tensed, ready to charge the next adversary that

presented itself. All his muscles relaxed as one in the instant he saw Pietor’s garish form appear in the

access way. Pietor let his blaster track over the environment before he lowered it and signalled to

Varinio and Solomon behind him that all was clear.

Content with having his back covered Lucius finally stepped down into the arena floor and

approached the sword with a cocky saunter. A dozen meters away from the dais he let go of his old

sword letting it drop onto the mosaic floor, clearly not bothered to keep it with him anymore. He

took the final step up on to the raised platform and revelled in the moment. For as long as he had

known about the swords existence he had wanted it. Now that it was within his grasp, ecstasy rose to

an unprecedented level and he trembled slightly from the effect. He reached out with his gauntleted

hand and finally seized the sword, raising it to eye level his eyes scrutinized every detail, from the

golden handle with its exquisite cross-guard to the point of the blade. It was perfect, inlaid with

ancient runes that, while undecipherable, still served to heighten the aesthetic of the blade. Lucius

held it out at arm’s length and cut the air, testing the balance. It was slightly heavier than his

previous blade but the balance point was right where the hilt and blade met just as he had learned to

appreciate from his tutors so long ago. As he traced the inside of the hilt with his thumb he found

what he was looking for and keyed the activator hidden beneath the cross-guard. A violet force field

projected along the already razor sharp single edged blade, increasing its lethality plenty fold. Lucius

sighed with relief and reverently turned the blade off.

Behind him the three remaining members of his squad had started moving across the arena floor

when suddenly the fires in the statues armed flared up with a green light before returning back to

their original white. Through different gates seven Harlequins in a myriad of colours, almost

matching Pietor’s exuberant garb, stepped out. The closest gate revealed a figure that was clad in a

dark cloak and with a skull like mask covering his face, he levelled his huge gun and fired. A hail of

poisoned shurikens battered Pietor’s armour but didn’t manage to penetrate the thick ceramite.

Pietor screamed a high pitched scream as he raised his weapon to return the favour and he fired at

the same time as the Death Jester let his second salvo rip. Both of the marksmen connected with

their shots but with radically different result. The discordant sound from Pietor’s blaster ripped open

the Jester’s body killing him instantly. He didn’t die in vain though as his returned fire had cut across

Pietor’s face and managed to deliver its potent poison into the wound. His face and neck started to

swell up threatening to burst open any instant. Pietor’s body reacted by shutting down all systems

and he fell unconsciously to the floor while his immune system battled do undo the damage done.

Lucius looked on with an appreciative look as the Jester fell and the other Harlequins started to close

in. His lust for violence got its fair share as he drank in the violent drama played out before his eyes.

The Harlequins seemed to ignore Lucius while they split up in two groups each focusing on one of the

two other Space Marines. Time for Varinio and Solomon to finally give the answer to their eternal

debate, Lucius mused for himself as Solomon charged into the closest Harlequin with his lightning

claws ablaze.

The Harlequin refused to meet Solomon’s charge and flipped over Solomon’s head with a graceful

movement. One of the other, a character who clearly favoured the red part of the colour spectrum,

seized the moment when the Space Marine was out of balance and punched his Kiss with penetrating

force into Solomon’s abdomen. A surprised look managed to cross Solomon’s face as the

monofilament wire hidden in the Harlequin’s Kiss uncoiled and turned his insides into nothing more

but an elaborate soup. During the same fraction of a minute Varinio hadn’t managed much better.

Two Harlequins came at him at the same time while a third, slightly taller, awaited an opportunity.

Varinio’s mutated body twisted and turned under the blows from the Harlequins but out of sheer luck

he managed to divert a blow to his head so that the Harlequins blade passed through his comrade’s

stomach instead. The Harlequin twisted in agony on the arena floor and Varinio let his guard down

for only a fraction. A fraction was all that the tall Harlequin needed though and in an acrobatic display

made possible from his flip-belt he tumbled over his fallen comrade and planted his sleek power sword

in the nape of Varinio’s neck.

Lucious marvelled at the speed with which the ensemble had managed to incapacitate his squad and

felt aroused as he realized he would face them next. The five Harlequins moved, as if in a dance,

towards him. He raised his newly won sabre above his head and felt a connection with something

else as he charged down the dais.

They came at him high and low but it was as if the sword knew what was expected from it and Lucius

managed to block them off while lashing out with his whip at the red Harlequin. The whip caught

across his throat and wouldn’t let go when the Harlequin fell so Lucius let go off the whip and rotated

with lightning speed to block another cut. Small arms fire bounced of his back as he forced the power

sword that had killed Varinio away from his body. It felt like the sabre turned by itself in a snaking

move that disarmed one of the more anonymous Harlequins but Lucius didn’t spare one moment to

dwell on it but simply opened the Harlequins chest with a lateral cut.

The Harlequin armed with the shuriken pistol fired again with the same result, its comparatively low

power made it insufficient against the thick armour of Lucius. Not content with being a target, Lucius

warded off another synchronized attack with the help of his sword and levelled the shooter with a

tackle. The weight of the Marine crushed the pelvis bone of the Harlequin and he screamed in agony

as he tried to crawl away from the fight.

Weary of the remarkable skill that Lucius had displayed the two remaining foes spread out. The tall

one clearly sizing and measuring Lucius while the other one tried to distract with a dazzling effect off

colours and shapes projected from his dathedi suit. The effect was striking and might have confused

Lucius enough for the two of them to take him out. The sword was not as easily duped though and as

the Harlequin attacked Lucius responded to it with a counter-attack that literally split the Harlequin

in two. Without pause for thought he swapped sword hand and lashed out behind himself with his

offhand taking the last charging Harlequin by surprise. The stroke was not heavy but it opened an

inch deep gash across the Harlequin’s shoulder. Lucius rotated with the cut and he once again

swapped hands. The Harlequin looked down to his shoulder, his mask never revealing any emotion.

Blood was pouring along his arms and it was clear that without a quick and effective resolution, time

alone would decide the duel in Lucius favour.

In a single move the final Harlequin somersaulted towards Lucius and in mid flight picked up his

fallen comrade’s sword. He came crashing down on Lucius with a two-handed attack aimed at both

disarming and killing the target in one decisive move. Lucius had met the best swordsmen in the

galaxy and learned from his mistake in the most painful way, he saw the attack coming and while the

sword tried to tell him to block Lucius forced it into a rigid pose and took a step forward. The killing

blow from the Harlequin met with nothing but air while the disarming blow bit deep into Lucius’ arm.

Lucius marvelled at the pain and enjoyed every agonizing nerve-thread. On his sword the attacking

Harlequin hung limp, impaled from the force of his own attack.

 

IX

 

The smoking Rapture-class shuttle came in steep, its pilot trying hard to control the damaged ship

during in-flight. It wobbled in through the hangar opening with a scream as it came down hard on the

launch deck, sparks flying of the semi-protracted landing gear. It narrowly missed the flight of hell-

talons parked along the right wall before coming to a halt with orange smoke spewing from the

engine.

A pounding echo could be heard from within the ship and maintenance crew came running towards

the ship, most of them were deformed from mutations or daemonic possession but they still knew

the danger from a burning ship so they carried along various forms of extinguishers and fire fighting

equipment. The pounding came to a crescendo as the door to the crew compartment was kicked out

and crashed down on the deck. Through the smoke came Lucius carrying the limp form of Pietor. As

soon as he was clear from the wreck he dropped him on the deck with a solid thump and asked the

crew to see to him.

Lucius’ armour was dented and bruised, the left shoulder pad completely missing and deep gouges

were present all over his body. A host of new scars, still fresh and red, decorated his shaved skull and

he looked terribly weary. In his right hand he still held the sword, reluctant to let go of it if even for a

second. As he started walking across the floor, heading for his own chamber, the eight-pointed star

that burned in the floor suddenly changed into the Mark of Slaanesh in honour of the Tower’s new

Champion.

The corridor’s in the Tower still twisted and turned but Lucius found no consolidation in the

familiarity. His mind dwelt on the issue of the deal he made with Tobias. He had the sword and it

responded to him in a way that he could only dream of, the touch of the Old Ones was still present in

the blade and it made him almost invincible so the need to better connect with the sword through a

daemonic bound was not necessary from that point of view. He knew though that in the second that

his victory became known it would give him several powerful adversaries all with the intent to steal

the sword from him. And that the information would be known was a certainty since the Tower had

marked him as the new Champion. He worked through the possibilities again but he could find no

other answer than the binding process and Tobias aid. Opening the door to his chamber he found

Tobias waiting inside.

- Honour to the brave? Tobias asked in a mocking voice.

- You allow yourself access to my chambers without permission? I could have you hanged for

that. Lucius retorted but with no conviction.

- Forgive me but I expected you to make use of my service as soon as possible. Tobias eyes

wandered to Lucius’ hand and to the magnificent sabre it held. - Twenty-four hours, after that time

I will call on your chamber. You know the price of failing me Tobias.

- I will honour the deal we set Lucius.

As he spoke he held out his hand for Lucius to give him the sword. Lucius hesitated then presented

the sword to Tobias, his mind aching with the loss as he released his hand from the ornamented

handle.

- Twenty-four hours, Tobias stated and in the same moment turned around and disappeared

into nothing.

 

X

 

Lucius had neither eaten nor slept and although his physique didn’t require him to do so in any

extent he usually relished the food that the chefs of the Tower could produce and sleep was where

he found inspiration for his most sadistic sprees. In a fleeting moment of pity he had taken time to

visit upon Pietor who was being nursed back to health from the Dark Reaper’s attack and the savage

journey back. To be nursed back to health anywhere in the Eye of Terror was not a gentle caring

moment and the Tower of Shaina’th was no exception. Pietor was strapped down to a stretcher

made from bone and metal while a black robed surgeon performed his so called arts upon him. The

surgeon had a stout appearance that was only enhanced from his extra pair of arms that had

mutated out of his body. To which deity the surgeon had prayed to for the warped gift Lucius didn’t

know but when he saw the surgeon at work he was in no doubt to as it was a gift rather than a

punishment. Pietor had been stripped of as much armour as was possible, some parts forever fused

to his flesh both by warp power and by weapons damage. As Lucius watched the stout surgeon cut

open the still blistering wound on Pietor’s neck and with another hand inserted what looked like a

possessed leech. Another set of hands were fast behind, cauterizing the wound and closing it with a

tight beamed laser. Lucius could see that the leech-creature moved inside the wound and he envied

Pietor’s delightful pain as it wriggled around.

A moment of distraction was all that the sick-call had been. And while he felt satisfied that Pietor

would be able to rejoin the Degenerate Host he couldn’t keep it in focus and Tobias’ masked face

appeared uninvited in his thoughts at all time. For what felt like the millionth time ge checked his

time keeper and realised that the hours had finally managed to trickle by. He got back to his room

and removed his precious armour from his torso and as he laid it on the bed he could see the

trapped souls within drifting in and out of focus, sometimes trying to push at the surface or

stretching it to fit their requirements. The binding process would require access to his veins and his

heart and Lucius left his chamber naked from the waist up, the masses of scar tissue sometimes

revealing the black carapace just beneath his normal skin. The red scars that could be seen the day

before at the rough landing were already healing up and becoming paler by the minute. On his

shoulder though a large circular scar still looked bruised and infected, witnessing the tremendous

struggle the journey home had been.

Turning round the final corner to Tobias’ abode he was relieved to find both the feathered rug and

the eye-infested walls. He suspected that Tobias would never leave the tower without them or at

least not without rendering them obsolete to future users. With a flourish he bowed to the eyes, as a

king acknowledging his servants. For every step along the corridor he knew that soon he would be

bound forever to the sword forever with no one to contest him for it. The door swung open as he

approached and he stepped inside.

- Your time is up wizard. I’ve come for you to honour your deal.

The air inside the room was still revoltingly clean but Lucius barely noticed. His eyes strained against

the darkness to see either the Sorcerer or the sword.

- I still have another fifteen seconds, but I digress. I expected you to be here much earlier

based on our previous encounters.

Tobias voice was like soothing music to Lucius’ troubled mind. The sorcerer hadn’t fled with the

sword and finally he would be the only true master of it. Amber light filled the chamber from

nowhere revealing Tobias standing behind his arcane table with the sword laid out before him on a

royal blue pillow.

- I see you come prepared, are you all set? Tobias asked.

- Just a moment and we’ll see.

With that remark Lucius crossed the room and put his hand to the sword. As he lifted it he could still

feel the perfect balance and see the exquisite details. Something was amiss though, the slightly warm

radiance that had been ever present was now absent. He flicked the sword on and the same brilliant

violet glow still surrounded the edge but it felt empty and hollow not at all like the living sword he

had used to cut down the Harlequins in the temple. His face contorted as he flicked the sword off

and the pupils of his eyes diluted as adrenaline started racing through his body.

- What have you done?

The dark pupils made Lucius’ eyes shine from hate and the look he gave Tobias was that of pure

wrath.

- I’ve done nothing that was not part of our deal. Tobias’ silver mask softened the features of

his voice some but it couldn’t completely hide the level of amusement in it.

- That was not the question; now tell me what you’ve done!

- Poor Lucius you simply have no idea do you? Now let me start my answer by asking you a

question. What is it you lack from the sword? Isn’t it the same sword you gave to me?

- You’re tiring me with your games wizard. The sword is the same and you know it, the touch

of the Old Ones, that’s what’s missing. Lucius’ voice became coarser and lower for each time

he spoke, almost oozing out the anger he felt.

- Aaah, the touch of the Old Ones... Lucius how little you know of the true nature of things.

The touch of the Old Ones cannot be felt in any tangible way, let alone be experienced by

someone as mundane as you. No, what you felt was a psychic residue of them. To your

simple mind you might think of it as the leftovers from a meal to a hundred feet tall giant, to

the giant they are of little value, merely refuse to be thrown away. To someone a foot tall it

could still feed them for a hundred days. - You speak of riddles and split hairs! Lucius slammed his

fist on the engraved table with a force that left a small crack showing.

- Very well. Tobias was finally finished with his taunt of Lucius and held out a heart-shaped

gem that glowed with an unnatural light. This is what I’ve done, I’ve harvested the psychic

residue and trapped it in a physical form to be used and studied by me over time. Just as with

our deal, twenty-four hours with the blade to do with as I will.

Enraged and finally understanding the wizard’s betrayal Lucius acted with preternatural speed. He

ignited the sabre and with a monumental blow he clove the table in half. The feathered rug reacted

to the aggression but it was too late, Lucius moved as swift as lightning and with another cut he

separated Tobias’ head from its body. The head rolled over and in a mocking manner still presented

its silver mask to Lucius while Tobias’ body fell backward with cushioned thump. Unsatisfied Lucius

glared at the gem still in the sorcerer’s hand but a gleeful laughter coming from the Sorcerer’s head

called his attention.

- Amusing, but you should know that a Sorcerer can never be killed easily. Tobias’ voice was

raspy but it still was as coherent and mocking as ever.

- Then I’ll have to try harder. Lucius turned and raised his sword as to cut Tobias’ body in

smaller pieces. To his disbelief the feathers in the rug moved in crawling manner and covered

the body hiding it from view. Enraged Lucius cut deep into the rug but met with no resistance

that could account for a hidden body, instead a cloud of feathers jump up from the blow.

- Perhaps you should try harder my dear Lucius? Since you’ve cut my head of I assume that

you’ve waivered the daemon-binding part of our deal so I’ll leave you. I have had a portent

though that we will have to meet again so until that time I hope your anger will subside.

With that the rug made the same nature-defying move and covered Tobias head. Lucius screamed in

rage as he tried to cut him before he disappeared but it was too late. In a last act of defiance he cut

deep into the walls, gouging out daemonic eyes and blinding others not stopping until every last eye

was left blinded or bleeding.

On the launch deck the Mark of Slaanesh had been erased along with Lucius’ triumph, replaced with

the Mark of the new Champion’s deity.