The Inquisition III

[Lady_Canoness]

Well dammit. Haven't kept up lately and had to read the last several pages all at once. I too was shocked at Nerf's death (friggin' mutant witches), but the fact that such a death incited such an emotional tug gave me pause; this is a really, REALLY good story, with characterization that puts many published works to shame. Keep it up Lady Canoness! I am sure your concluding posts will not disappoint in the slightest!

 

Thank you Whythre, and I am honoured to say the least. I shall strive ever harder not to disappoint.

 

Part 23 should be up tomorrow. Be prepared for a Pllllllot Twiiiiiiiiist! :lol: (or two)

[Lady_Canoness]

As parts go, part 23 was not easy to write. Following the death of Nerf, no small occurrence, I was faced with the task of having Godwyn and Mercy react to it, and then use it to propel the story forward.

Not to mention how much pressure there was to do it right!

 

This is now the second to last part of Inquisition III, and with it the story is being drawn to a close as wheels are set in motion for the writing of Inquisition IV.

 

Part 23 now comes hot of the press - so minor errors may have slipped the net! Please enjoy :D

 

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*part 23*

 

 

A cold dawn had risen over the still forests of Oberon when Godwyn stepped from the vault and set foot upon the damp soil. No birds sang, no insects flew in the air, and not a living thing stirred under the morning gloom of the forest canopy. The day was dead from the very start.

The giant walked beside her, blinking into the morning light with eyes still red from the night before.

While above ground it had been merely hours, underground in the birthing chamber time had crept by like days while the Inquisitor had stayed by assassin. Few words were spoken, but a conversation had taken place where both were laid bare, becoming nothing more than two people forging an understanding that exists only at the most basic levels of flesh, blood, and bone.

Mercy was no longer human in either of their eyes – that had been stripped of her when she became what she was – but for all her differences there was yet a person to be found. She was death, but also life. Eventually they had fallen asleep alone as Zero dreamed inside her glass womb nearby.

Duty could not wait, however, and, as they emerged into sunlight, Godwyn knew that precious hours had been spent. She would have to regroup with Aquinas and reconcile Nerf with the others before they could set out again for the mirror, as faltering now could only have the most disastrous of results.

 

Together with Mercy, she made good speed through the woods, yet, when she arrived where she thought they’d parted ways the night before, Godwyn found no sign of her companions.

“We stopped here last night,” she said aloud, pacing through the clearing where she thought she had been only hours earlier; “That’s where Spider fell down, and that’s the log Nerf sat on – I’m sure of it.”

Watching her as she thought aloud, Mercy said nothing, though her face was expressive and her tilted curiously whenever the other woman spoke. For someone Godwyn was shocked to hear speak the night before, the violet eyed assassin’s lapse back into silence came as a surprise, though in the realm of things she had no explanation for Mercy’s silence paled in comparison to the sudden disappearance of a space marine, Catachan, and psyker.

“Come on, we have to find them.”

Many worst-case scenarios sprang to mind, but none of them were allowed to take root as Godwyn scoured the woods with Mercy in the direction where she thought Nerf might have headed. There were no footprints to follow from the night before, and nothing indicative of the Catachan travelling that way until the long-limbed assassin came running through the forest to find her and led her off in another direction.

She had found something.

In small clearing, Mercy picked up Nerf’s discarded auto-carbine which had been propped against a fallen log. The war-knife was there also – driven blade first into the trunk – and as Godwyn approached she saw his rifle leaning upright against a tree a few feet away.

Seeing them was an odd sensation, almost as if she were looking at legs and arms that had been separated from a body, and she knew from that point onwards that something terrible had happened.

Walking in a circle around the small clearing, the Inquisitor pieced together whatever she could about the night before in her mind’s eye.

Nerf had thrown down his carbine at Godwyn’s feet before storming off. He would not have had it with him, so someone must have brought it to him.

She looked back towards the log. Curious, Mercy followed he gaze.

It would have been Spider. She felt strongly for the Catachan and prized whatever he prized. Aquinas had no such attachments. When she brought it, she would have given it to him, and he accepted – that was why had been placed on the ground near the knife, instead of cast aside – or, if he had rejected it, Spider would have kept the weapon and they would not have found it here. She would have then stayed with him, and must have somehow convinced him to leave in a hurry; otherwise he would still be here or have taken his weapons with him when he’d gone.

From the log, her eyes traced along the ground.

Wherever he went, he went willingly. Nerf did not take to threats and would have fought back instead of going quietly, yet there was no evidence of any disturbances. Spider loved him, but if their goal was sex they would have stayed here as they were already secluded from the others. Perhaps Nerf had threatened her and she ran, but why would he not have taken at least a weapon to threaten her with?

Godwyn shook her head: Nerf wasn’t the kind of person who would threaten a girl, and it wasn’t as if he was drunk or out of his mind.

“That only leaves one explanation,” Godwyn said to the assassin, though her heart sank as she did so; “Spider ran from something, and Nerf tried to bring her back.”

But if he had yet to return?

A bubble of dread started to rise up through her throat, though she swallowed it back down and put on a brave face.

Gathering up the Catachan’s weapons, Mercy found what looked like a path of snapped twigs and trampled plants and set off down it with an anxious spring in her legs. Keeping close, Godwyn ran after her.

After a little ways, however, Mercy started to run faster and faster – frantic even as she crashed through bushes and branches with little hesitation – making it nearly impossible for Godwyn to keep up with the giant’s long strides. She had only taken a few steps more when a piercing wail shook the air from up ahead, and then she took no more.

She knew what had happened, and her legs felt weak.

Cutting through the air, Mercy’s melodious voice rose in a shrill cacophony of despair, and upon hearing it Godwyn found herself gasping for breath as her heart quaked. Never had a sound torn so ruthlessly through her being, though she knew that she needed to go onwards – to meet the source of Mercy’s pain with her own eyes.

Numbly, she stumbled through the brush until she came upon the giant.

Mercy was on her knees, blocking something bloody from view as she screamed and wailed and grasped at her face.

Godwyn felt her insides turn to ice. She looked away, but did not remember sitting down. A voice in her head kept telling her that everybody dies. The voice sounded a lot like Nerf’s.

A few feet away, Mercy finally ran out of breath, and she rocked forward on her knees until her forehead rested over the body.

Everybody dies. Everybody dies. She watched her steel fingers open and close one at a time before her eyes. Everybody dies. Everybody dies.

I wish we had more time.

She ran her hands through her hair: it was dirty from battle and days without being washed. They’d had more time, but the last thing she’d done with it was point a gun in the man’s face. She might as well have pulled the trigger.

Mercy was curled over the body, her cries now coming in silence as her whole shook with each sobbing breath.

Difficult decisions had to be made, and people always died.

It was part of her duty in the service of the Golden Throne.

Good men always died. Sudulus, Alexander, Nerf, and how many more besides? The good men would stand on the line for what they believed in because they were good, while the wicked would skirt behind them and manipulate, moving them around and watching them die.

Many good men had now died because of her – so many that she no longer remembered their names, or even their faces. Had she once been one of the good, but now had turned into the wicked?

She closed her hand into a metal fist, and slowly got to her feet.

With tear-streaked eyes, Mercy looked up at her, and, reluctantly, removed herself from the body.

Nerf was dead. Seeing his face made it so. Had she killed him?

‘Deceased’ was not merely a tag placed at the top of personnel file. His skin was white like snow, discoloured by the sickly dark blotches of blood.

‘Dead’ was not merely the absence of a voice, or a feeling. His body was rigid, and lay closer to the ground than anything that lived.

‘Murdered’ was not merely a malicious death. The knife that had killed him was still buried hilt-deep in his throat.

Her face contorting in steady burn of anger, Godwyn pulled the silver blade free from Nerf’s stiff form and held it clenched between her steel fingers.

Murdered.

This was not war, this was not death in the service to the Throne – this was not even death in service to her!

She flung the knife into the woods – not bothering to see where it landed – and, furious, slammed her metal fist into the nearest tree. Nerf was betrayed, killed when he was unarmed and unprepared by someone he thought was his ally!

She slammed her fist into the tree a second time – sending splinters of bark flying.

He’d been killed through deceit and jealousy! Cut down on a coward’s blade!

The wood cracked as she screamed in rage.

They’d talked of honour, reason, discipline – all of it was bull****! Killing him had burned it all!

She battered and smashed at the tree without remit until she was dragged away still flailing in Mercy’s strong embrace. Still she could see his face carved into the tree. Still she could hear his words of scorn. Her anger wouldn’t bring back the man who he’d killed, but vengeance could repay the blow she’d been dealt.

Aquinas: he was all she could think of. His face swam before her eyes – his voice rang in her ears – his words poisoned her thoughts.

Aquinas had done this! He was the one who would answer for it – he was the… he was the…

She couldn’t scream anymore. Exhausted and wounded in more ways than one, Cassandra Godwyn sank into Mercy’s arms as the giant bore her gently to the ground, and in her violet eyes she looked for the answer to her pain.

How had this come to pass?

“We were betrayed…” she said between gasps as the assassin held her close, “… Aquinas turned on us, just like he did the Cadians… I cannot believe I was so blind…”

Mercy was shaking her head. A tear dropped onto Godwyn’s face. “Do not carry the blame for evil…” she said mournfully, and blinked her swollen, tear-filled eyes. “Carry retribution for it instead…”

Held against her lover’s chest, Godwyn could sense the other woman’s heart beating and feel the rise and fall of her breathing. The constant rhythm of it was soothing and peaceful, but at the same time tipped with pain.

It was something Nerf had been cruelly denied.

She blinked, but could find no tears of her own within eyes long dried.

Helpless like a child, Godwyn could only wait.

Everybody dies.

“I won’t let him walk away from this…” she told her.

Mercy only smiled, for the lithe killer was mute once again.

 

*

 

They carried Nerf back to the vault, and around midday committed his body to the flame. No words were spoken, and the fire burned for hours until the sun had fallen and only bones remained amidst orange glowing embers in the blackness of night.

It was over now, so far as Godwyn was concerned, and she had failed.

Nerf was murdered and Aquinas had escaped, taking the girl with him, and leaving Godwyn stranded in the middle of nowhere with no way out. By killing Nerf, the traitor space marine had effectively killer her and Mercy too, for if the Eldar did not see to their deaths then exposure certainly would. There would be minimal supplies contained within the vault itself as well as an interstellar communication array, but Godwyn was not confident that the latter would be in serviceable shape, or if anyone would respond to the signal once sent.

Death, it seemed, would come for them as well.

Everybody dies.

 

Some deaths fly faster than others, however, and when Godwyn awoke the following morning, cold and cramped from sleeping on the ground, she did so with a sword to her neck.

“Rise, mon’keigh.”

It was an alien voice like nothing she had ever heard, and commanded like it both earned and expected obedience in a tone somewhere caught between a whistle and a growl.

The sword delicately nudged her flesh, and she struggled to her knees – making no sudden movements and keeping her hands out to her sides.

Mercy was nowhere to be seen, but, as she rose slowly on aching legs, Godwyn counted five tall and ornately armoured aliens standing within the clearing, and two colossal figures standing further back in the woods with their heads amongst the treetops. The infantry were aspect warriors – vile alien cults of battle that practiced death-dealing like a form of art – while the giants between the trees could only be Eldar dreadnoughts, ‘wraithlords’ they called them – towering war engines powered by alien sorcery that moved and fought like living beings.

“You will come with us,” the alien behind her announced, and the sword’s blade was withdrawn from her neck – the Eldar sheathing the weapon as it moved around her and walked back towards the woods with steps that barely touched the ground. It was a warlock – wicked sorcerers of a wicked race – and in its arrogance, typical of the Eldar, it did not look back to see if the Inquisitor would obey.

With five of its aspect warriors watching its back, however, obedience was assumed, and, as each warrior had accounted for more than its share of human lives, there was no way for Godwyn to resist.

Her motions clumsy and formless in comparison to the alien’s, the Inquisitor did as she was told.

The warriors watched her in silence, and though this was her first time seeing Eldar in the flesh Godwyn recognized each from her studies of their race. A howling banshee – a frightful sect of alien she-warriors that specialized in merciless close-combat – stood poised with a blade each hand while a fire dragon warrior waited nearby with a long-barrelled weapon held loosely at its side. She identified the alien that killed Princeton as a warp spider – another example of fiendish Eldar battle technology that allowed the warrior to teleport instantly from location to location with little more than a thought – and with it was also a dire avenger – a class of warrior the Eldar thought ‘honourable’. Lastly, and standing aloof from the ensemble of alien fighters, was a dark reaper – a black-armoured warrior with a skull covering its face, and likely the very individual responsible for the massacre that had taken place days earlier.

Not a one of the warriors so much as stirred as Godwyn walked past them, though the minute they were out of her vision she could feel the five sets of alien eyes fall upon her. She kept walking, not looking back or deviating from her path in the wake of the warlock, and focused solely on the ground beneath her feet.

Under the guard of the Eldar, she entered the woods and was forced to abandon Nerf’s remains, and left without any way of knowing whether she’d see her last surviving companion again. The speed at which things could go from bad to worse never ceased to amaze her. Between the trees she heard whispering like a thousand voices muttering as she went by, and the ground shifted under the weight of the Eldar giants as eyeless heads swung ponderously in her direction.

“Halt,” the warlock commanded after they had gone a short ways into the trees. Godwyn stopped as she was told, and, though she did not see or hear them, she felt the aspect warriors do likewise just a few paces behind her. The alien leader then reached into a pouch by its side and placed a single glowing rune into the air above its head, leaving it there and drawing a shimmering line in space around it with the tips of its fingers.

Her spine tingled and every hair on her body stood on edge as a feeling of weightlessness spread through her, yet Godwyn neither moved nor spoke as she hid her discomfort from her captors. Gradually, the shimmering line the alien had drawn grew bolder and became a bright blue ring that spun around the floating rune with such speed that its form blurred into a flawless blue orb of light that grew and grew until it passed over the aliens and human alike. The dirt encrusted skin on her hands began to sparkle and shine, and for a few brief moments the burden of her body seemed to sink through her feet until Godwyn felt nothing at all. Growing faster and faster, the sphere of energy continued to expand, and, when it retracted in a soft flash, not a trace of the warlock, the Inquisitor, the warriors, or the two Eldar giants remained between Oberon’s silent trees.

 

The feeling of her own weight sank back into her body like sand being thrown into a sac, and with it came the throbbing pains that she had not noticed until she had been briefly relieved of them. Breathing was difficult and her legs felt like slabs of raw meat. Even thinking seemed to require too much effort.

“Move,” the warlock commanded her, and dirt shuffled underneath her boots as she trudged forward thoughtlessly under its command.

Time passed with no meaning, but when her mind eventually regained the strength to focus, Godwyn noticed that their location had changed. The trees were taller now and spaced farther apart. Sounds of birds and animals echoed through the trees. There were more Eldar here as well, and they watched from the bases of tall structures of spindly white bone that stretched upwards between the branches in arcs and spires. There was music in the air as well – alien music – soft yet beautiful, coming from instruments she could not even begin to conceive.

Marvelling in both awe and dread at the works of xenos that she saw around her, Godwyn followed the warlock as it led her further between the trees. She had seen similar things in picts and had come across ruins like these more than once, but the bone structure she saw around her looked almost alive and seemed to glow with an inner light. It was unholy, terrifying, but utterly captivating, and she found it increasingly difficult to remember that such things ought to be looked upon with hatred and loathing.

The Eldar around her seemed to feel her thoughts, and they looked at her with silent revulsion as she walked so clumsily through the otherwise perfectly serene woodland.

“Stop,” the warlock commanded – its alien tone laden with expressions impossible to describe – and she stopped, her eyes drawn forward to where a tall Eldar stood under a wreath of white bone. This alien was different than the others even to the Inquisitor’s foreign eyes, as it wore long robes of intricate colour with glowing trappings of bone attached to its surfaces, and in its presence the alien structure around its seemed to move and glow more brightly – as if somehow communing with the creature in ways incomprehensible to the human mind.

Her training told her that this was a farseer – a powerful alien of incredible age and knowledge whose intellect knew no bounds, and that it acted as type of guide for its race. Farseers were rare, it was said, and few within the Imperium had ever set eyes on one. They also happened to be highly sought after as captives, and the Inquisition maintained a long-standing bounty for the live capture of one such creature. Doing so would be a remarkable feat, however, as the farseers were always well guarded, and it was said that they had already seen the outcome to every situation before it occurred. If such rumours were true, then they were powerful beings indeed, and rightly feared.

Turning from where it studied the bone, the farseer set eyes upon the Inquisitor, and Godwyn felt her chest tighten in dread. The alien was in her thoughts and she knew it – gently leafing through them as one might gaze upon a book. There was no shutting it out and no resisting it, yet there was also no pain; if anything, she felt completely relaxed as the alien gazed upon her deepest held feelings and most guarded secrets. It was power in its truest form, for the alien witch accomplished with ease what even a trained Inquisitor could not without supreme toil and sacrifice. The dissemination of a mind was mere child’s play to a being so powerful.

“Cast off your trappings,” the warlock told her, but the words took several moments to sink in as she felt lulled into placidity by the witch’s meddling.

They wanted her to strip.

Not resisting, Godwyn removed her clothing piece by piece and piled it on the ground until she stood entirely naked before the aliens. She was dirty, grubby, and unwashed in comparison to the beings around her, with shapes, scars, and hair that seemed imperfect and awkward next to the grace of the Eldar. The blocky metal grafted to her flesh was boorish and crude when seen by a race that lived in seamless perfection. Godwyn did not feel ashamed or self-conscious however, and the condescension she felt stemming from the xenos was no different than if she were completely clothed. It was a detestation of what she was, not who she was.

Stepping out from beneath the wreath of bone, the farseer moved in the human’s direction until it stood before her – its elegant form a head and shoulders above her so that she could not comfortably meet the face of its ornate helm.

It said something that Godwyn could not understand, and then place a small runic charm between the Inquisitor’s breasts. She looked at it – a small glyph carved of translucent bone – though it did nothing as it rested lightly atop her skin.

The warlock said something in an alien tongue, and the farseer replied with a single word. In an instant the rune started to burn like hot iron, and the Inquisitor recoiled as if shot she’d been shot. The pain was immense and she crumbled with a shriek, but no sooner had it begun than the agony suddenly ceased and she came to her sense lying crumpled in the dirt – her hands grasping at what was no-longer there. The rune had vanished, though a dark imprint of its passing remained pressed against her flesh.

The warlock bade her stand.

“You are marked by that which you fear, daughter of Earth” the farseer said as she got shakily to her feet, “perhaps now sound will be heard where once there was only hate.”

Her guts clenched in fear, Godwyn backed away:

“What have you done to me, alien?” she demanded, though keenly remembering that every Eldar was armed while she was not so much as clothed.

The warlock took offence and its blade was at her chest in a flash, but the farseer urged calm amongst its minion, and after a few words the alien sheathed its sword.

“Gather what you have cast aside and follow,” it told her, once again turning on its heel and not looking back. For a moment she considered disobeying, naked though she was, and not doing as the aliens had instructed her, but the farseer still crept within her thoughts and quashed her will to resist. Resigned to her fate, Godwyn gathered her things – her loaded pistol included – and followed the warlock as it led her down a twisting path through the woods.

The path was long and took them a ways away from the farseer, and though the warlock never turned to see if she was following, it would stop occasionally when it got too far ahead and wait for her to catch up. It never waited long enough for her to dress, however, and after at least a mile of walking the temperature in the air began to change and she started to shiver more and more with each subsequent step.

It was around that time that she began to wonder what it was the Eldar had planned for her. An Inquisitor would make a valuable captive, though perhaps they planned to turn her and use her as a weapon against the Imperium, or maybe they kept her for something altogether more sinister. Some Eldar used blood rituals and sacrifice, or kept prisoners alive for their own depraved uses, in which a fertile human female would no doubt pique their interest. Or perhaps they simply meant to execute her when her presence was far enough removed from their encampment.

Godwyn had no way of knowing what would befall her when the warlock finally reached its destination with her in tow, but whatever it was she did not fear it. If she was to die today, then she would die, and that was all there was to it. Her only regret was that Mercy, wherever she was, would never know what happened her – if indeed the assassin was still alive and not already slain by the Eldar.

The warlock led her a ways further before she started to hear the rush of falling water growing nearer, and in a few minutes time she emerged with the warlock at the top of a massive waterfall sending great gouts of frothing water plummeting over a cliff’s edge down into a black abyss many dozens metres below them.

“See there,” the warlock pointed down to where the forest trees tucked their roots over the edge of the blackness, and as Godwyn followed its gaze she saw a skeletal dome of glittering white bone cradled amidst the green.

“Proceed,” the alien told her, and directed that she should descend along the cliff’s edge towards the dome alone.

The way was down was difficult, and when she finally got there she found that the farseer was already in waiting.

“Enter,” it beckoned her.

They were quite alone.

Stepping under an archway of spiralling bone, Godwyn entered the dome with the Eldar. It was a light structure of ceremonial looking significance. The spindly white walls glowed faintly from within and were coated with a substance that glittered like miniscule grains of sand. Looking up, the green canopy of the forest trees could be seen high overhead between the gaps in the ceiling, while a fair wind laden with the vapour of water pouring from the fall drifted through the open walls.

Waiting for her, the farseer indicated she should set aside her belongings one of several flat table-like objects that seemed to have grown naturally from the walls, but looking down the Inquisitor noticed that most of the surfaces were occupied by an assortment of weapons – the majority of which were from obviously human origin: swords, pistols, rifles, and even heavier weapons like machineguns.

“If hatred bars your thoughts, then arm yourself and strike at me,” the farseer said in a strange tone of voice through which Godwyn could detect no sense of nuance, “though be cautioned that if you fail you shall quickly know the deepest meaning of regret.”

So warned, the Inquisitor set aside her pile of clothing amongst the assembled weaponry, not touching any of it, and turned with empty hands towards the alien.

“What do you want with me?” she asked, not disguising her distrust for the xeno and its kin as she tip-toed back across the dirt floor away from the armaments meant to tempt her.

Hidden behind its helmet, the alien – of which she could determine no visible gender – looked into her face:

“The elder race has no interest in your species,” it said. “We derive not satisfaction from the burning of fallen leaves, nor do we take pleasure in the ways in which serpent swallows its tail. We have no interest in what you do or why, as long as you do not tread upon that which is ours.”

“You massacred over sixty mean just two days ago!”

The Eldar did not appear moved. “This forest is not yours to freely tread. Much that is ours belongs on this world, yet for generations your species has polluted its woods. This is no longer the case. No more mon-keigh will set foot here unchallenged.”

“This is about the mirror,” Godwyn deduced, though she shivered in the cool air and hugged her nakedness to stay warm. The Eldar watched scornfully as she squirmed, but did not offer her the opportunity to cover herself.

“You have knowledge of it,” the farseer seemed to sneer, “and though that knowledge extend no farther than the syllables that make a word it is the reason you have been allowed to live, and may yet prove useful.”

“Yes,” Godwyn nodded irritably; “I know of it. Will you allow me to put on some clothes?”

“No. You shall not wear what you cast off until you have understood why you cast them off.”

“What the hell does that mean?” she asked. Now that she had stopped walking, she seemed to be getting colder much quicker, and she had to dance up and down on her feet to keep her toes from freezing.

“It means that you are reborn of new purpose, Cassandra Godwyn,” it said her name like it was somehow distasteful, “and that an old life cannot be reclaimed until new purpose has been gained.”

“I still don’t know what you mean.”

The farseer pointed at her chest. “See there the mark of the elder race – ”

She looked down: a mark remained on the place where the rune had burned between her breasts. Not a scar, but a change in the skin itself until the alien rune of an eye gazing through a prism appeared as clear as day. She tried to rub it away with her human fingers but the mark remained exactly as if she had been born with it.

“You are touched by that which you hate,” the farseer continued; “you can no more loath it than loath your very being.”

“What have you done!?” Godwyn demanded, frantically scratching at her skin until it was red and raw. “What does it mean?!”

“It means that you are no longer like the others of your species,” the farseer commented. “You are the difference that you have despised for so long, and because of this you cannot hate unless you also hate yourself.”

Backing into one of the flat surfaces grown from the sides of the dome and knocking several weapons askew, Godwyn realized with a dawning sense of despair what exactly the alien had done – what exactly had been taken from her. The mark would never come off: even if she dug it from her skin, she could never dig it from her mind. She had been tainted by the Alien.

“It is no violation,” the alien went on, “but a gift.”

“I DON’T WANT YOUR GIFT!”

“You do,” it told her, “for we share a common foe, and such is a bond that draws fate together. Our failing is yours, and your failing is ours, though our triumphs are shared. Isha’s Mirror is one such bond.”

“The mirror!?!” she nearly shouted, her brain trying to catch up as she covered the mark beneath her metal fist.

“Indeed.”

“Why would I ever help you!?”

“Because you are one who has suffered betrayal, and who now sees the red star of vengeance looming high in the sky: blood is your desire, and with our aid it will be within reach.”

The Inquisitor bit her lip – the alien spoke true, and, while it had at first seemed abhorrent to her, the thought of using the Eldar to fulfil her own ends was suddenly more appealing. She did not know if the mark had anything to do with it, or if the alien witch had addled her mind, but alone with the Eldar she was prepared to grasp at straws.

“What would you do for me?” she asked.

“The question is what you will do us,” the farseer corrected her, “yet by so doing also find that which you seek.”

“And what would I do for you?”

The alien produced something small and bright in the palm of its hand and held it out for the Inquisitor to see. Godwyn squinted at first and shielded her face, but gradually as her eyes adjusted she saw what looked like a small pyramid made of some kind of crystal sitting in the alien’s hand. Emblazoned upon it was a mark similar to the one imprinted on her chest.

“You will take this,” the Eldar said, passing the crystal gently through the air so that the Inquisitor needed to only close her fingers around it to make it hers, “and with it you will confront the one who has betrayed you.”

Hesitantly, Godwyn took a closer look at what she held between her fingers. It seemed to react to her touch and glowed in time with the beats of her heart.

“What does… what does it do?” she asked.

“Like you, it will divert and cloud the senses of those who will look upon it.”

She looked up questioningly; “You mean it’s…?”

The farseer tilted its helm forward. “Yes. The ones you face are sorcerers and you shall not succeed in the task required of you unless well protected from their influences. That is the rune of warding – the most cherished guardian of the elder race. It is the same rune that has been placed within you. Together, the runes shall afford you haven where before you had none.”

It made more sense now that Godwyn thought about it, but some parts were still unclear:

“What does this have to do with the mirror?”

“The Mirror of Isha does not belong to any but the elder race,” the alien replied, “yet it has been stolen and the thief known to you as Leto evades our every move. You, however, are known to the one who betrayed you, and he will soon be with the thief. Where you find one, you will find the other, and when you find the other we shall reclaim what belongs to the Eldar.”

Starting to understand, Godwyn gazed into the light of warding crystal. She was to be like a pawn in a very long game of regicide, and, like a pawn, she would not be expended lightly. The Eldar wanted her to distract Leto so that they could claim the mirror. Aquinas would apparently be nearby, so attacking him would create the diverson the Eldar needed to strike. It was for that reason – and that reason alone – that Godwyn was allowed to live and had not been slain on sight.

She was convenient.

Even so there we questions that needed to be asked – doubts that needed to be put to rest.

“You said that Aquinas, the one who betrayed me, will be with Leto, the thief. I understand that, but how will one lead me to the other? Aquinas wants the mirror for himself.”

The alien slowly shook its head.

“The one who betrayed you never intended to claim the mirror for himself, for he cannot master secrets long lost in time,” it explained. “What he intends to do is harness one to whom time has no meaning – one who witnessed the forging of Isha’s Mirrors and their use – one whose memory does not fade, and whose laughter echoes through all eternity.”

 

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My brain feels like has been microwaved :P but hopefully you are as ready and excited as I am to see this through to the conclusion!

Part 24, followed by a short epilogue, will wrap it all up for the Inquisition III.

[Aqui]

Nearly at the end already! ^_^

 

Inquisitor IV has a lot to live up to! :D

[Brother-Sergeant Bohemond]

typical Xenos....

 

always tricking you into doing their bidding, is it any wonder that the Emperor commands us to 'kill the Xenos'?

 

Another excellent chapter! I feel for Mercy

 

Poor Aquinas though, ;) Hes being blamed for Spiders actions!

[Lady_Canoness]

What started six months ago ends today. Part 24 of the Inquisition III.

 

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*Par 24*

 

Down in the deepest corner of the woods where the trees grew thick and the sun never shone was where Leto would be waiting. Orion Aquinas knew this, for it had been arranged.

Getting there was simple, for he knew the way, and as he trudged through the forest he could see the signs like waypoints guiding him to his goal. The trees became smaller, and their branches twisted. The soil of the earth gave way to barren rock and upturned roots. Nothing grew here and nothing lived, and he walked between grey sky and grey ground through the naked trunks of shrivelled trees – he and the girl in his arms the only sparks of life in the otherwise desolate wilderness.

Not everything had gone as planned, however.

He had not anticipated the ferocity of the Eldar, and, though it suited him that they should unburden him of the Cadians, he found it worrisome that they should be allowed so close to the mirror.

And the girl – killing the Catachan had not been his intention for her, though he was grateful that the guardsman had been able to save her as he had, even though it cost him his life. The man had been useful, which came as a surprise, and though his death was unforeseen it had its uses. Taking the man’s life had broken the girl’s spirit, and as he walked Spider lay comatose in the space marine’s arms – her head all the way back exposing her neck and bobbing up and down with every step he took. Her thoughts were faint and she did not even dream, but that was good. Resistance would only make this harder.

 

The librarian walked tirelessly for days without stop as the woods grew darker and darker until he followed the path entirely underground. Here were the remains of the long-lost Eldar exodites, those who had fallen millennia ago along with the fall of their race. The tombs of wraithbone were where Eldar dead had once been interred before the release of She Who Thirsts , though their occupants long turned to dust as had the ancient treasures of the Eldar civilization. It was a fitting anonymity for a despicable race.

In his arms, Spider moaned and seemed to be coming-to, though with a thought the librarian had control of her feeble mind, and the girl slipped back into unconsciousness. She was starting to waken from her dormancy. There would be no time to waste.

At the end of the catacombs was the ancient dome of seers that had belonged to the exodites, and though dome itself had long ago fallen the Mirror of Isha still remained. Rumoured to have been forged by the heathen goddess of life and rebirth herself, the mirror would not succumb to mere age like everything else around it, and, as Aquinas stepped from the tombs out under the open sky, he found the mirror waiting for him, standing lopsided in a wide pool of shallow rainwater.

It had not aged a day.

Held in a silver frame of twisting vines and supported by two wraithbone handles carved to look like alien flora was a large man-sized mirror of polished glass.

Stepping into the water up to his ankles – the forest rising up around the pool in a steep wall of rocks and trees until it opened upon a cloud-filled sky – Aquinas approached what he had searched for all this time. It was a mirror in which one could see no reflection, but only the swirl of mists entrapped between the shrouds of time. Standing with in an arm’s length, the space marine librarian reached out his hand to touch its surface. It went right through – the mirror evaporating before his very eyes.

“A cunning illusion, don’t you think?” a slow, gravelly voice scraped through the air from somewhere behind him. Heavy footfalls like boulders dropping into the water splashed ponderously towards him. “Not checking your surroundings either. Had I been an Eldar, you would be dead.”

The footsteps drew closer. Aquinas did not bother to turn around.

“I knew you were there, Leto,” the librarian told him flatly; “I also knew the satisfaction you would derive from your little game.”

“Ha!” the voice sounded doubtful. “Turn around, old friend. It has been some time since I last saw your face.”

The girl still in his arms, Aquinas turned on the spot.

The terminator behind him stopped, and gave him a once-over up and down. He grinned. “You look good, brother.”

Aquinas could not say the same for him.

Clad in a suit of ancient tactical dreadnought armour, Leto’s bald, scarred head looked back at him. His face was dirty and discoloured, and his left eye permanently closed. The space marine looked as if he’d been through many hardships, and his hulking suit of armour looked no better. The once proud blue of the epistolary’s terminator armour was dented and thrashed by battle and exposure, and dirt clung to many surfaces almost as if it had been painted on. There was no shine to it, no lustre, and spots of rust could be seen creeping into some of its more weathered surfaces. Oil stains ran away from the joints, and the suit creaked and groaned with the giant’s every move.

“Where is the mirror?” Aquinas asked.

Leto was still grinning. “The Eldar have been hounding me for it, keeping me on my toes, so I had to get creative. Here – ” he took something small and shiny from his belt and opened his hand towards the mirror – a wisp of silver escaping into the mirror’s frame, changing it, altering it, “ – see for yourself.”

The flawless image of perfection where the mirror once stood was suddenly replaced by an old and tarnished relic – a cracked glass surface marred by age sitting in a corroded frame.

“The Eldar like to see things as timeless and perfect. Feeding their ego helps to keep them distracted.”

Aquinas brushed his fingertips along the mirror’s surface. It was real – whole. This was what he had been seeking – what Leto had found.

“Who is that?” the terminator was looking at Spider.

“She is the one we were asked for,” Aquinas replied, still studying the mirror.

“You told her yet?”

“No.”

“Ha!” Leto barked, his weathered skin folding into a smile; “You always were a cold one.”

“I am driven by duty and nothing more,” Aquinas told him. “Sacrifices must be made.”

“Though no-one tries to explain that to the people who are about to be sacrificed.”

The space marine ignored the terminator’s deliberate attempt to goad him. “I thought you had people with you. Where are they?”

He’d touched a nerve and Leto scowled. “The Eldar started to turn the whole planet upside down once they knew what was going on. No matter where I went, they had someone there to find me, and the longer I waited the more and more people they sent after me. Of course I could only suspect it was their doing until I came down here and they started attacking me in person. By that time, I had no-one left.”

“The Eldar caused this war?”

“Yes, and they’ve kept everyone fighting it. It is time we got this thing off of this world.”

“Everything is in preparation?”

Leto bowed his head. “It is.”

“Then let us begin.”

 

*

 

Her insides lurched and her mind span, and though her boots had never left the ground when her eyes opened she was somewhere else entirely.

She blinked.

The air was still. Above her was grey sky, below her was grey stone, and all around were trees that looked shrivelled and dead. This had to be the spot, because here she was.

The first step was always the hardest and she quickly put her foot back down before she had the chance to plunge head-first into the ground. Easy. In mere moments she was dashing down the hillside – bounding from rock to rock and surface to surface with legs that had never felt better.

The Eldar had not kept Godwyn prisoner for long, and after the farseer had spoken to the Inquisitor it had left her alone. She had dressed and armed herself with whatever she pleased from their captured goods and then waited for one of the aliens to return, and it was the warlock who eventually did. It was a test of sorts, she imagined – leaving her alone but not unwatched – to see if she would try and escape. She didn’t, as she had no illusions of being able to evade or fight the aliens if they came to hunt her down. When the warlock had arrived, it led her a-ways further into the forest before placing a rune in the air like it had done before, and then stepped aside as the Eldar sorcery carried her far away.

Again, she was alone, though this time she was armed with a new sense of purpose.

Her pistol in her metal hand, she had loaded it with all three of her specialty rounds: the truesilver bullet in the chamber, followed by the viral round at the top of the magazine, and lastly the penetrator round buried at the bottom of the magazine under a couple more large calibre bullets. Her other hand she kept free, though over her shoulder was fastened a long, straight-bladed sabre that she’d taken from the Eldar along with a light-weight body armour of alien origin over which she wore her coat. So equipped, she hung her Inquisitorial rosette around her neck as well as the Icon of Just – an old medallion bestowed upon her by her mentor on the very day he died – and kept the alien crystal in her coat pocket.

The idea was to travel lightly and quickly and not be burdened by too much metal, which would not be helpful against one or two space marines anyhow.

 

In a few minutes she found the opening to exodite tombs. The farseer had shown her where to find them what to expect by passing simple memories between their minds, as did it impress enough knowledge to sate her curiosity. She was to go through them, it made clear, not linger in them, for her goal lay on the opposite side.

Godwyn had been told that the space marines would not be expecting her and that the Eldar magics would mask her approach, but she had been lied to by enough humans to not trust an alien.

She entered the tombs without breaking stride and pointed her pistol into the corners of each chamber she passed through. It was unlikely that Aquinas would have set a trap for her, and the space marines probably thought themselves capable of countering any threat, but the chance of jeopardizing her objective through carelessness or overconfidence made her take the seconds to be sure of her surroundings. If what the Eldar had told her was true, however, then time was of the essence not just for them but also for her.

She had to hurry.

In minutes there was a light up ahead in the darkness, and the Inquisitor dropped down to a very slow walk – placing one foot in front of the other with care and keeping her pistol raised.

It was daylight, and as her eyes adjusted she could see her target in her pistol’s sights. Aquinas was standing with his back to her no more than twenty metres away, and ankle deep in a pool of what looked like rainwater. From her angle she couldn’t see what he was doing or what else might around him, but right now that didn’t matter. She was resolved to fire.

With the pistol steadied in both hands, she closed one eye and placed the sights upwards on the space marine’s body. The truesilver round would kill with a single shot if it connected, and the heavy pistol’s long barrel would be sure that it did.

Her finger tightened on the trigger.

Aquinas was moving slightly – her sights followed him…

A few steps and he stopped, then went the other direction at a faster pace – he was saying something and she could just catch the words. A few steps more and… he was out of her sight.

Opening her other eye, she took a steadying breath and edged closer towards the opening and the daylight outside – her pistol still up. Foot over foot, she walked sideways until she was almost in the light.

Aquinas reappeared. Preoccupied, he crouched over something by the edge of the pool.

“Aquinas!”

It was not her who said it, and Godwyn pulled back into the shadows as she heard a loud splashing noise stomping through the water. A few seconds later and a massive form veered into view in the corner of her eyes.

Startled, the Inquisitor pulled her attention from the target and stared wide-eyed as a space marine in terminator armour splashed towards the librarian. It was enormous – more like a tank than a man – and made the unarmoured space marine look puny in comparison.

Her heart began to hammer inside her chest: nothing she had could hope to so much as scratch that, and as the terminator moved it put a massive obstacle between her and the librarian.

Swallowing to keep down the mounting angst, Godwyn dropped down the tomb wall into a crouch. She would be visible if either of them so much as glanced in her direction, but if she kept her gun on them she might yet get a shot.

The space marines were talking again, but she tuned out their words.

All she need was a clear shot.

The terminator started to move. So did Aquinas. He was carrying Spider in his arms, and from where Godwyn was she didn’t look conscious. Her wrists had been cut.

This was getting worse and worse.

She needed to take the shot, but Aquinas and the terminator were walking side by side: their splashing footsteps covering whatever they were saying, and making her angle next to impossible to shoot from.

She held her breath and closed her left eye.

Finally the librarian walked clear and lifted up Spider in his arms – holding her in the air prior to releasing her, though instead of falling the girl floated free, up and up until she was more than twenty feet off the ground and the blood from her wounds wafted around her like a veil of mist and it enveloped her completely.

Aquinas watched.

The terminator watched.

Godwyn had seen enough. She squeezed the trigger.

The gun roared and a billowing cloud of white flame erupted mid-air in front of the librarian – burning brightly like a miniature star for a fraction of a second before disappearing.

The terminator tuned and she fired at him next – the viral round glancing harmlessly off his shoulder plate.

“Wait!”

Aquinas was still standing – his hand outstretched towards Godwyn. He was unharmed.

“Godwyn wait!”

The Inquisitor stood up and fired the third round in anger – the canon-roar of the pistol echoing across the water. Aquinas was still standing – the bullet having disappeared in a tiny flash of light.

The terminator started to run towards her – water erupting under its feet and emptying from the pool under the weight of its charge – but Godwyn held her ground.

“Leto!” Aquinas’ shouted. “Stand aside, Leto!”

The terminator stopped its thunderous advance.

Godwyn lowered her weapon with nothing to show for it.

Leto looked in her direction. His face was ugly and mismatched, like it had been pulverised and then put back together, and one of his eyes seemed to be permanently closed. He sneered, and then upturned a torrent of water in her direction with a single kick – drenching her under the downpour.

The terminator laughed, and stomped back towards Aquinas.

Wiping her human hand across her face, Godwyn glared at them both. She would not be cowed – not by them, not by anyone.

Behind the space marines she saw the mirror – a broken, ancient looking thing with its glass surface all cracked – above which was the teenager, cocooned in an orb of her own red blood. She was the key to using the mirror, in a way.

“Godwyn,” Aquinas stepped forward past the terminator, “why have you followed me here?”

“Why the hell do you think!?” she swore back at him.

The librarian’s face was the same as it had always been: expressionless and hard as stone – the face she had turned to for advice and wise counsel – the face she now looked upon as a hated traitor.

“You are here because you think me a traitor,” he said, his voice loud and very clear, “but you are wrong.”

“Wrong!?” she spat furiously at him. “How many times have you lied to me, Aquinas? How many times have you played me along with your schemes?” Her gun was up defiantly. “You killed my agent and left me to die. That sounds like betrayal to me!”

“Sacrifice is necessary, Godwyn!” he shouted at her.

“And Spider? Just look at her! Does that not look like betrayal to you!?”

“I am motivated only by duty!” the librarian roared, though he did not seem to lose his composure. “Sacrifice is sometimes needed. You know this. If you cannot accept that, then get out of my way!”

“Nothing is more hated than a traitor!”

“Wrong!” Leto joined in, looking sideways at Godwyn with his one good eye: “Weakness is more hated than treason!”

Godwyn had to laugh:

“You trust this man, Aquinas? Think of how many times you have lied to others. Are you so sure he hasn’t lied to you?”

The space marine scowled at her and shook his head. If anything, he looked disappointed that she failed to grasp what he was trying to tell her.

“You don’t understand, Godwyn,” he told her, levelling his voice as the water lapped around his feet. “You do not see that there is more than petty truths and lies. One life, hundreds of lives, thousands of lives – all are worth sacrificing for this. I do not care if it is mine, I do not care if it is yours, I do not care if it is hers,” he spoke of Spider; “any life is worth this. If we learn to use the mirror wars can be averted, enemies can be crushed before they arise, and our true foes can be burned from the dens in which they fester. Any cost is worth the price!”

Godwyn didn’t believe it – nor did she want to believe it: these were the very same words used by countless heretics to justify countless atrocities. The very thought was inconceivable. Aquinas may have betrayed her, lied to her, and murdered her people, but a heretic? Was everything so flawed?

She kept her gun on him all the same.

“Tell her the true price, Aquinas,” Leto spoke up, his voice as rough and hoarse as his flesh. “Let her know just how far we intend to go.”

Godwyn glance in his direction: “I already know.”

“Do you now?”

They were distracted, and with both space marine focused on her she wished the Eldar would appear sometime soon.

Leto started backing up towards the mirror; “If you know, then perhaps I should show you.”

His eyes turned upwards toward Spider and he raised his arms.

“Leto! Wait!” Aquinas was still facing Godwyn.

The terminator stopped. “This is pointless, Aquinas,” he said. “Kill this person, whoever she is, and let us be done with it!”

But the Librarian shook his head. “No,” he said in a tone suggesting that he had something else on his mind. “Godwyn, if you know what we intend to do, then I ask that you join us. You know that my cause is just.”

“Join you?” she shot back at him from where she still stood in the mouth of tomb opening. “You’ve gone too far, Aquinas! You’re a traitor! You intend to bind a daemon in human flesh to achieve your ends! Have you no sense!? You want to force a daemon into Spider’s skin! I would NEVER join you!!”

Unmoved, the librarian’s features darkened until his ice-blue eyes became like slits. Many Inquisitors had made use of daemonhosts in pursuit of knowledge, and even the tamest amongst them were branded as radicals, but had any of them been so cold as to possess a child? A student? Someone who looked up to them? Trusted them?

Nerf had been right: Aquinas was no human – he wasn’t like them – his was a world of ideals and objectives; a world where everyone and everything could burn in between.

“Tell me, Godwyn,” he asked, “am I to be the traitor for using the enemy to serve the Imperium, or are you to be the traitor for obeying the enemy and serving yourself?”

Godwyn let her pistol answer for her as it roared in her hands.

Aquinas shouted as the bullet dissolved in a flash of light.

The terminator was running forward in thundering strides – a glowing force sword held in its hands.

Out from the trees the banshee wailed.

“Eldar!” Leto shouted in warning as another heavy bullet pinged off his armour, and in a flash of light the battle was joined – the warp spider appearing at the edge of the pool with its weapons flashing as monofilament wires tore through the air and ripped through the water.

Aquinas raised a barrier of psychic energy to shield himself from the worst of the onslaught while Leto looked to his armour to protect him as he waded through the storm to strike at the alien. No sooner did his sword fall than the alien vanished, however, reappearing a fraction of a second later and showering him with razor-edge death from another direction.

Unable to attack it physically, the terminator hurled bolts of lighting from his fingertips – forks of psychic energy dancing through the water and between the trees – but the Eldar evaded the storm and vanished anew – reappearing up in the woods and firing in great swaths from further away. Furious, Leto drove his weapon blade-first into the pool – fracturing the earth around his feet and throwing Godwyn to the ground, the pistol clattering free from her hands.

The other Eldar charged with a vengeance – the banshee first and foremost among them as the lithe she-warrior leapt into the fray with both swords gleaming as she struck at the terminator. A blue-armoured fire avenger was close behind – a long spear held in its hands – and the dark reaper rained accurate fire from afar while the fire dragon shot blasts of flame down upon the space marines.

Braving the melee, Godwyn drew her sabre and charged headlong at Aquinas while Leto fended off two alien assailants. The librarian didn’t see her coming, but twisted at the last moment as he heard her approach so that her sword only grazed his flesh as he picked her up and threw her bodily over his head – landing with a crash in the madly frothing water. His sword was out in a flash and came down like thunder – jarring her bones in their sockets and hurtling the Inquisitor backwards as she raised her weapon to parry the blow. He was on her again in an instant – his foot connecting with her chest like shotgun gun blast from close range – and flipping her out of the water and onto the broken ground at the side of the pool where she landed with a terrible crunch.

Her breath failing her, Godwyn was certain that she was about to die as through swimming eyes saw the towering shape of the space marine bearing down upon her helpless form. He raised his sword for the killing blow, and as Godwyn looked into his face she saw nothing: no hatred, no anger and no emotion in his chilling blue eyes.

A faint whistle suddenly grew louder in the air, and in a flash of motion the librarian shouted in surprise as his right hand flew from his arm – a flat edged foot staggering him backwards moments later as it slammed into his throat and the seven-and-a-half foot figure of Mercy jumped into view.

Caught by surprise, the assassin was far too fast for him, and she danced around him like a shadow on the air as every part of her body was used to bash and batter him further away from the struggling Inquisitor.

Flipping onto her front, blood fell from Godwyn’s mouth as she struggled back to her feet and staggered around the edge of the pool. Battle raged fiercel across all of her senses as the titanic struggle for the mirror ensued. Everywhere the water was lashed into fury almost like a living thing dancing around the fighters as they cruelly cut into one another and turned the pool red.

The dire avenger had fallen – its body cleft and mangled – and great rents had been torn in Leto’s armour as the banshee continued to scream and strike.

Aquinas duelled with Mercy at the mirror’s base – the space marine ignoring his injury as he fought with speed and precision to repel the assassin’ lightning quick blows that had him stumbling backwards to defend himself.

Soaking wet and feeling as if her rib cage had been cracked, Godwyn made it to the other side of the pool just as Mercy was flung back by the force of Aquinas’ will, and Leto went down to a knee under the weight of the banshee’s assault and the reaper’s punishing volleys.

“Aquinas!” Leto was hollering. “We must withdraw!”

The librarian seemed to hear him, and together they pushed the banshee back – hurling the slender Eldar’s form to the edge of the pool – before making their way back through storm of fire that ricocheted wildly of their psychic defences.

Mercy hopped back to her feat – soaked by the water but otherwise unhurt as she hissed in anger.

The Eldar again pressed against the space marine psykers, but their wills were indomitable, and not a single alien could so much as get close enough to stop them.

Spying her pistol, Godwyn scooped it up off the ground: one bullet remained in its chamber.

“Come on Aquinas! Hurry! Hurry!” Leto was shouting at the librarian as he started to lag behind. Both were bloody and ragged, but slowly Aquinas forged an unstoppable path up to the mirror through the raging waters. Leto pulled something from his belt and threw it into the air around – a wall of red flame suddenly leaping up to surround him, Aquinas, the mirror, and Spider who still hung bleeding her life away in the air.

Pistol in hand, the Inquisitor wheeled and fired just as the wall of flame became complete.

Etched with sigils of disruption, the penetrator round flew through the flame barrier, blasted through Aquinas’s torso, and shattered the Mirror of Isha into a thousand fragments.

All at once, Leto howled – Spider dropped from the air and splashed into the water – and Aquinas turned towards the one who had shot him with an angered look in his eyes. The next very next moment they’d vanished along with the fire – a wall of smoke and the fragments of the shattered mirror being all that remained.

Everything was silent.

Godwyn lowered her pistol.

Standing stock still, Mercy looked over her shoulder at the Inquisitor, relief on her face.

One by one, the Eldar started to emerge from the woods – the warlock amongst them.

“It is done,” it said, examining the mirror, as the other aspect warriors gathered up their fallen kin. The masked Eldar sorcerer then turned to the Inquisitor and inclined its head in gratitude. “You have rendered us aid, mon-keigh. You may leave this place.”

Exhausted, broken, and in pain, Godwyn could think of nothing better than leaving this place – this planet – behind. She was about to turn away with Mercy when a sudden movement caught her eye. Spider, the girl herself, had regained consciousness.

Together with Mercy, Godwyn splashed over to her through the still waters. Seeing them coming, the pale girl with tattoos fell backwards into the pool, and, weak from blood-loss, tried to ward them away.

“Please… don’t…” she said when she saw the Inquisitor’s pistol in hand.

Godwyn looked from the empty gun down to her. It was over. Aquinas had escaped, and though he and Leto had been thwarted Nerf’s vengeance remained unfulfilled. The girl, however, had been saved. She deserved more than this.

“Come on,” Godwyn looked up at Mercy, “bring her with us.”

Sometimes, people would get what they deserved – she owed him that much.

 

___________________

 

 

Only a short epilogue remains, but up to this point you have read 127,108 words of the Inquisition III over 237 pages in a story that took me half a year to write on evenings and weekends without ever taking a week off ^_^

I guess that is a way of showing how much Godwyn and her companions, and you, mean to me :lol:

[Brother-Sergeant Bohemond]

and it is over. Silly Aquinas...

 

so, who really won in the end? Probably Spider is the closest as she is alive and wasn't possessed but she still lost Nerf... which is sad.

 

A thought for later Inquisition novels, as Cassandra is of Ordo Xenos, she could have a kill team with her, right? You know, the DW guys. Just a thought to dwell on...

[Lady_Canoness]

*Epilogue*

 

“Are you sure about this?”

Standing beside her, Mercy’s eyes were on the glass tank. She couldn’t remember how it felt to be born again out of this artificial womb, or who had been there, or how long it had been. All that remained were walls of steel, words that bore no meaning, and Zero – the sole survivor of an experiment, and the sole link to her past.

The records in the vault had called it Project Oberon, and identified it as a practice carried out in secret after having been censured by the Inquisition for means that had been deemed to radical to be accepted.

The goal had been to replicate the genetic enhancement of the Holy Astartes, and to once again make armies of perfect warriors, though this time in the service of the Inquisition. They wanted assassins, and after years of research they started to test on live subjects: human females no older than fourteen, and no younger than eight. Reports of initial tests showed nothing but failure, however, and hundreds of young girls, all of whom had been abducted off the streets of Imperial cities, died alone and in pain under the surgeon’s knife. Generations of test subjects continued for years, but all the Inquisitors could create were mewling mutant abominations unworthy of seeing daylight.

Again, hundreds were put down.

The Inquisitors went even further. Alien technology and harvested DNA went into their experiments, and again more children were stolen from their families to fuel their quest for perfection. Thousands likely died cruel deaths as a result. Eventually, however, the experiments began to show results, and the Inquisitors rejoiced that they were near completion just as the ruling came down from the high conclave: the experiments were heresy, and the projects were to be burned. Hundreds of tanks were opened prematurely – their occupants put to the sword and burned – and the prosecution of the men responsible took decades until all was reduced to ash. The ever-watching eye of the Imperial Inquisition was satisfied.

Yet one project still remained active, and upon fruition twelve assassins waited to be born into their masters’ service. Almost all of them were – Mercy included – and now only one remained un-awakened, drifting listlessly through a dreamless sleep.

Placing the flat of her palm against the tank’s cool glass, Mercy bowed her head and spoke a single word. At her command, Godwyn pulled the lever.

Inside the tank there as a stir of motion – the amniotic fluids began to drain, and the unborn assassin sank lower and lower in the tank until her bare flesh pressed against cold metal. The seal broke, fresh air hissed in, and Zero opened her eyes for the first time.

 

* * *

 

“Don’t ask me if something is right or wrong, because I won’t have an answer for you. All I can tell you is what you need to do about it.”

- Inquisitor Cassandra Pallas Godwyn, Ordo Xenos

 

The story of the Inquisition is never truly finished, for it is only through vigilance, sacrifice, and the boundless determination of the righteous that His realm is kept safe from the enemy within, without, and beyond.

 

 

 

*Mercy: Imperial Assassin*

Her origins revealed, Mercy buried everything she could about her past, and tried to forget that she’d ever been anything but what she was. She became one with no history and no future, never dwelling on what she’d done or who she’d known, though at times she could be heard weeping when she thought no-one could hear her, consoling herself for a loss that was still too great to bear.

She would stay with Godwyn for years yet to come, and though she rarely spoke her love never faltered.

 

*Spider: Unsanctioned Psyker*

Spider mourned Nerf’s death for weeks after she finally left Oberon in the Inquisitor’s company. She kept the Catachan’s weapons for herself, and at night she could be seen reverently cleaning them as he had, though whether or not she ever used them was unclear.

Knowing no-one outside of the two people she travelled with, Spider would stay with the Inquisitor for some time, though the guilt that plagued did not lessen, and only time would tell if it ever would.

 

*Orion Aquinas: Space Marine Librarian*

Nothing is known of where the librarian went after the mirror was destroyed, though the Inquisitor was resolved to find him should he ever again show his face. He left no clues to his whereabouts and no marks of his passing, however, and all that remained were his teachings – words of wisdom that would haunt the Inquisitor for years.

 

*Jaquobime Duroi: art dealer and black market trader*

Duroi managed to salvage his life as if nothing had ever happened between him and the Inquisitor, though when asked about his finger he would always change the subject rather quickly…

Maintaining properties on Erebus Station as well as across the sector, he moved from one to the other constantly; though imagine his surprise when he found an unexpected visitor waiting for him at one of his hidden retreats. The ever-watching eye never sleeps.

 

*Nerf: Catachan Commando*

The Catachan’s bones were buried on Oberon along with his few remaining cigars. Nothing marks the place where he now rests save for a single brass shell-casing sitting upright on a flat stone. Look closely enough, and a single word can be seen scratched upon its surface as a last parting words from a young soul that will never forget him.

 

*Cassandra Godwyn: Imperial Inquisitor*

Swearing vengeance on her enemies, devotion to her allies, and loyalty to her cause, the story of Inquisitor Godwyn is not yet over, though this particular tale has come to an end.

[Lady_Canoness]

and it is over. Silly Aquinas...

 

so, who really won in the end? Probably Spider is the closest as she is alive and wasn't possessed but she still lost Nerf... which is sad.

 

A thought for later Inquisition novels, as Cassandra is of Ordo Xenos, she could have a kill team with her, right? You know, the DW guys. Just a thought to dwell on...

 

Yes, now it is over... and I'll try to take a proper break before jumping into the next one :tu:

 

As for who came out on top, and who was the real traitor, well, that is for the reader to decided.

 

As for more space marines... after Aquinas it will be hard to include another 'good-guy' marine. But we'll see... a Chaos Marine is bound to show up at some point :blink:

[Taranis]

and it is over. Silly Aquinas...

 

so, who really won in the end? Probably Spider is the closest as she is alive and wasn't possessed but she still lost Nerf... which is sad.

 

A thought for later Inquisition novels, as Cassandra is of Ordo Xenos, she could have a kill team with her, right? You know, the DW guys. Just a thought to dwell on...

 

Yes, now it is over... and I'll try to take a proper break before jumping into the next one ;)

 

As for who came out on top, and who was the real traitor, well, that is for the reader to decided.

 

As for more space marines... after Aquinas it will be hard to include another 'good-guy' marine. But we'll see... a Chaos Marine is bound to show up at some point ;)

And part III comes to an end. I find this story to be by far the best of the three! You did a very good job of describing the participants, the obstacles and all the necessary motivating reasons of both friend and foe. I'll defiantly be looking out for part IV and more. Until part IV launches I'll be reading parts I to III again. I'm sure there will be moments where something suddenly might have another meaning. ;)

 

 

As for wishes for part IV:

 

I hope Cassandra gets reinstated as a Inquisitor and gathers a strong and diverse party. Sudulus, Nerf and Alexander were strong archetypes that you told us all about and taught us to love. Replacing them will be difficult because you made them so well. :tu:

They, together with Lee and the others really opened up the world of the far future for me. Thank you.

 

Xenos is something I hope for in the next part. I prefer Eldar, especially as cooperating good guys. :yes:

Traitors is another. Both human and Marine. Perhaps a Traitor Marine trying to do The Emperors will. Being branded evil and hunted but being "innocent" could generate difficult decisions and dilemmas.

 

 

As for who won: We did! You did! Humanity did! Even in war there must be restraint, mercy, reason and compromise.

No goal justifies any means.

 

Thank you for another great and gripping story. You are setting high standards with your writing.

[Aqui]

Whoa! I can certainly understand why you'd want to take a break from writing before Inquisitor IV.

 

Have really enjoyed reading :tu:

 

I'm just wondering what would happen if a Marine from my Traitor Chapter came across a certain Inquisitor though... :yes:

[Olis]

I enjoyed reading that. It's interesting to ponder over whether Aquinas and Leto were merely rogue astartes or actual renegades (I'm leaning toward the former rather than the latter). And I'd suspect that mark on Godwyn's chest is not something that she'd like others to find out about...

 

Good stuff. :)

[Lady_Canoness]

Thanks gents - you guys are a great group to write for :)

 

A couple notes about Inquisition III from a writing perspective, for those of you who are interested:

Character development and creation is always a tough part, but I think I've got a much better handle on it over my time writing. Names in particular have a way of shaping the character and making them more memorable. Spider, was named after spiders (duh) but also shares a few character traits with them such as female spiders killing their mates (how about that, eh?), being at home in the dark, and being comfortable in the places they are familiar with.

For people having difficulty making characters that click, try naming them after something memorable to you. Hope-Princeton is a highway near where I live - Princeton and Lt. Hope getting their names as such - while Aquinas is named after Thomas Aquinas of history, and Nerf is named after the nerf gun :P Victoria Striker took her fisrt name from Queen Victoria, while Commissar Grant actually got his name from a minor character in one of my earlier works as well as Hugh Grant. Sudulus was named after the main character in the timeless comedy 'A funny thing happened on the way to the forum'.

Surprisingly, Cassandra Godwyn is the only person with a 'generic' name (even Tweed was named after the jacket) which represents her as the 'blank slate' character of the series upon wich anything can be built, though her middle name Pallas is taken from Pallas Athena of greek mythology :D

 

Another trick is to take a character from a movie you like, tweak them a little bit, and then stick them into the story - Princeton was a character I imaged as Ed Harris' character of the General in the Rock ;)

 

As for where things will go in Inquisition IV? Well, expect to see some characters return from II, and get ready for things to start off with quite literally a 'bang' :)

[Demus Ragnok]

Lady C thanks so much for sharing this. I really enjoyed it.

[Papewaio]

Excellent as always. I'm very glad Spider survived, and the description of the Eldar, but something is niggling at me about Aquinas. His plan just seems... I'm not sure, slightly squashed? Best way I can put it at the moment. Almost too quick, and very localised. Still, one tiny problem with one reader out of 120,000 words isn't bad, and the rest of the story is top notch.

[Cavey]

This was an amazing story. It had me checking back every day looking for the next part although it's a shame about Nerf, he was my favourite character lol

[Lady_Canoness]

Thanks guys. It means alot to me to hear you say that :)

[Lady_Canoness]

Greyall - the master that he is when it comes to drawing (do check out his thread 'Clever Girl' in the hall of honour - you will be glad you did) put pen to paper on our behalf to give us Inquisitor Godwyn in all her glory.

Does it do her justice? I can't stop smiling either way :lol:

 

Visitor for you, Lady Canoness, a Miss Godwyn

 

http://fc05.deviantart.net/fs71/i/2012/060/0/c/inquisitor_godwyn___ordo_xenos_by_greyall-d4rdhbq.jpg

 

Girls with big guns, how very Freudian...

 

Anyway, Canoness gave me some pretty nice guidelines for the good Inquisitor. She's Ordo Xenos, has a bionic arm...

 

and carries a larger-than-life gun. Initially, I was thinking of taking the more traditional lean, elaborate gun. But then I noticed she doesn't share the baroque inquisitorial sense of style, so I thought:

 

Desert Eagle!

 

Then I thought:

 

Giant Desert Eagle!

 

And slept like a baby that night.

 

Riddle coming in a few moments.

[Aqui]

I like it, especially the nods to Steampunk :woot:

[Olis]

Godwyn looks a little like an Escher who's managed to half-inch Alucard's Casull. :unsure:

 

Regardless - an excellent picture. Not quite how I imagined Godwyn but it serves well enough. Thumbs up. :woot:

[Lady_Canoness]

To be honest, she looks a lot more handsome than I pictured her in my head, though this picture of her shows Godwyn in a way I had not concieved - making it a very pleasing revelation. :)

 

Definitely hits the 'aristocratic' look though, and I love the elegance of her portrayal :tu: She doesn't come across as a 'femme-fatale' or as being overly sexualized - which is very nice - though Godwyn, to me, always has rough edge to her.

This picture is a romantic portrayal - epic, and larger than life - her qualities at their best :)

[Olis]

I wouldn't mind seeing a depiction of Nerf, if the option is going. He deserves somewhat of a tribute. :tu:

[Brother-Sergeant Bohemond]

that is a very nice picture, not like I imagined her, but, it looks good :lol:

 

I await Inquisition IV with anticipation!