The Pillar

[Ossified]

This is a short story I wrote a couple of years back. I'd say it is just past the 2nd edit stage so any C&C would be greatly appreciated.

 

 

The Pillar

Alyssa Järvinen was bleeding out. With difficulty she had staunched the worst of it but in perhaps another ten or fifteen minutes she would stand before the Throne. She swallowed at the thought of her judgement. The things she had done in His name, and in her own.

She wanted to look out over the parapet. The fallen statuary blocked her view of the killing floor below. A task easily accomplished were she not been holding her intestines on her lap. Beads of sweat began forming on her face as she slowly turned and saw the bodies of her fellow acolytes, Ostman, Thurst and Mafishal, strewn amongst the other members of the kill teams. The blue-green mist still hung, thick and viscous; about their bodies. The pulsing azure light that came from below gave it an eerie form of life.

Where’s the bloody med-kit she thought. Moving slightly she felt something spill out from under her armoured jacket. Sweat formed on her face as a new wave of pain washed over her. Performing one of the Progenium focus exercises she rapidly played out the battle and how it came to pass that she was here.

He provides signs and solutions through our own righteous deeds and actions she thought. Closing her eyes she exhaled softly and surrendered herself to ritual.

****************************************
The heretical activity of the cult known as the Many-Fold Embrace had increased of late and her master, Inquisitor Abreu, had decided that their time had finally come. The autumnal world of Fentar Prime had been the cult’s base since the system had been first populated. Popular lore held it to have been founded by members of one of many small survey teams dispatched from the initial landing by Rogue Trader Fentar himself. The recent revelation of their involvement in the Cold Trade however meant they could no longer be countenanced. Lacking support to move against them from among his nobility, largely due to the cult’s good works with the populace in the Emperors name, the governor had petitioned the Holy Ordos.

Her master’s response had been issued before he finished reading the governors communiqué. Arrangements had been made including the formation of four kill squads hastily organised from a mix of enforcers from the Arbites precinct and those troops vouched for and accounted loyal from the governor’s palace. The seriousness of those who knew what it meant to serve under an Inquisitorial warrant was matched only by the pride of those fools too ignorant to understand its magnitude.

Most now were dead. The rest were soon to join them.

As Abreu’s senior acolyte within the system Alyssa was ordered to take command. She and her command team, comprising the rest of her master’s acolytes in the system, were first in breaching the underground temple from an abandoned manufactorum in the lower west side of the burgeoning hive.

A Servo-skull had established that the multi chambered store room into which they were entering was unoccupied allowing her team to drop in unmolested. As their intelligence had established it was a large hardware stockroom holding building repair supplies and, more crucially, the torso thick power cables that supplied the illicit facility. Swiftly they detached the thin wires from the section of masonry that had been removed during their entry and rested it against the back wall. As of yet there were no signs that their entry had been discovered.

Mafishal assensed their surroundings and signalled that two armed souls occupied the passageway outside. Drawing their silenced stubbers Alyssa and Ostman had rushed the hallway taking both guards in the head, grabbing them before they landed on the floor. The slight pop of the rounds making contact always unnerved her. As faint as it was it could still alert anyone nearby and would set off even the most basic of audio scanners.

They waited. Nothing.

Ostman winked and nodded back towards the store room. They deposited the bodies and, careful to wipe off the worst of the blood splatter, Alyssa and Thurst took their robes while Ostman wired the power cables with a small demo charge. Nodding to the rest of her team to remain the four companions headed back out into the dimly lit hallway. The carpeted floor helped muffle their footsteps as they moved swiftly through the hab complex. Bathed in the pale purple lights of industrial lamps the rockcrete walls were unadorned save for the occasional pict of cultist or perhaps their targets?

The four acolytes moved room to room clearing the level as they went and making space for the kill teams which followed. Working as they had done on voidships Mafishal paired up with Ostman on one side assensing and culling while Thurst and Alyssa took the other. It didn’t really matter if or indeed how many were in the room when Thurst entered. Alyssa had learned to keep out of his axes way and he had learned to curb the worst of his excesses in her presence.

It was bloody but largely uneventful work carried out in the middle of the night. The cultists present perhaps accounted for merely twenty percent of the bunk spaces available. The raid had been timed well. The only source of concern was that most of the doors needed their hinges oiled. In one room a cultist managed to get his hand on a stubber when alerted by the creek. Thurst had removed their head at the ears for such insolence and scowled at the door as he left.

Having finally cleared the section they came to the double doors marking the entrance into the facility’s main hub. Stealth would be abandoned quite swiftly beyond this point so the acolytes took time to check and double check weapons. Alyssa gave the triple-click assemble order through her vox unit and the kill teams began falling into place behind them. Not for the first time the acolytes were awed by the intelligence their master could provide in advance of fieldwork. Their path of ingress had been direct, quiet and had enough enemy contact for their abilities to come to the fore. It also allowed the other kill teams to prepare themselves for action without a hard jolt. Thankfully there were no wounds as of yet, though Thurst was covered in blood.

“Really?” Ostman had whispered pointing at him. “Already?”

“What?” responded Thurst quietly, all innocence.

The teams finished assembling single file, two teams per side. Each comprising of two Arbites leading six palace guards. The Arbites black armour reflected the purple light rather unpleasantly as they stood stock still, shotguns or bolt pistols and power mauls in gloved hands. The palace guards had the look of parade ground fops which, of course, they were intended to look like. The array of weapons about their blue and cream armoured uniforms was staggering; blades, pistols, grenades, lascarbines and squad support weapons such as meltaguns and grenade launchers. Alyssa marvelled at how they were able to move so quietly while being so laden down. Their plumed helms swapped for berets bearing the crest of house Astraia, the lords of the Fentar system. Every one of the 14th Wardens was coiled like a serpent ready to strike.

With a quick gesture Alyssa summoned the Arbites forward. Out of respect, and to make her life a bit easier, she lowered her voice so only they could hear.

“To be clear officers. Under inquisitorial mandate none save those with us now may leave here alive.” She held up her hand to stave off objection. “Yes, this does contravene a number of statutes and standing orders within the Lex Imperialis. There however will be no arrests, no trials and no discussion or record of events witnessed or deeds undertaken. This is an Inquisitorial matter and thus my master’s line to the Throne trumps your master’s fealty to the Great Book.”

It was clear they were not used to being spoken to in such a manner and more than a few jaws hardened, but none dared risk the wrath of an Inquisitor with the reputation of lord Abreu. Moving quickly to keep them focused she pulled out her dataslate and ran through the plan one final time.

“Upon entering the main hub teams two through four will move to hold the entrances to the other hab sections. Ignore any resistance in the hub. Suppress any resistance at your positions with launchers and gas. Demolish the connecting hallways, such as we are in now, two seams of rockcrete in. That will reduce the chance of a facility wide cave in and will bury any heretics present alive.”

“Team one you are to clear the hub from our exit to the temple entrance, ignore all other threats. Acolyte Thurst will be attached. If he engages support as best you can but, for the love of Him on Terra, keep out of his way. I and my remaining colleagues will take position in the centre, pick up any stragglers and move to support those teams as needed.” She looked around “questions?”

Having none the stern faced Arbites returned to their squads and briefly went through the order of combat. Alyssa rejoined her companions and nodded. Ostman turned placing his back toward the doorway and from one of his pouches he withdrew his Ministorum Icon holding it aloft. From another pouch he took a small censer filled with water blessed in the Cathedral of Saint Gyss, now some two miles above them. He walked between the lines of soldiers flicking water onto each of them in turn. No one uttered a word but all lowered their heads as he passed.

He returned to his position with Mafishal whilst Thurst took his place at the head of the force, his hand on the doors. He pushed just enough to check that the doors would move and then raised his left hand, fingers splayed open. The numerous clicks of safeties being removed and hums of power field starting filled the hallway. Each team member donned or activated their night vision equipment and put his left hand on the right shoulder of the man in front of him. Thurst let a ten-count pass and closed his fist. Ostman triggered the demo charge and with a distant pop the entire complex went dark. In absolute silence the inquisitorial strike force entered the hub of the largest cult in the Fentar System.

Flowing like water out of the door, each man in sync with the man in front, the four teams split and moved swiftly to their objectives. It was the dead of night on the surface so her master had, in Alyssa’s opinion, gambled on the majority of the Cultists being either in their habs or in the temple. It had paid off and the teams had minimal contact though all took some small measure of inaccurate fire from the armed guards stationed around hub.

The hub itself took the form of a large oval with four short but wide staircases, two each on the long side. These according to the plans they had received led to the Hab complexes and the storage areas. At one of the narrow ends was the entrance into the temple, seemingly along passageway. The other end held a tree made either of brass or bronze which had no leaves but did have what seemed to be spherical fruit dotted around it. Looking at the base of the tree Alyssa could see that the roots of the tree spreading out to cover the entire floor in exquisite mosaic.

Teams three and four voxed successful seizure of the doorways and were currently suppressing the confused occupants to allow placement of the demolition charges. Team two had met no resistance at all and signalled that the charges were already in place.

As expected team one met stiffer resistance first taking a group of cultists as they entered the hub from the temple proper. The sound of lasfire snapping was quickly drowned out by the roar of the bolt weapons and shotguns of the Arbites.

An alarm was sounded and at that stage the plan began to unravel. Emergency lighting came on and armed cultists emerged, pouring in from guard stations either side of the temples entrance.

The fire fight was decidedly one sided with the kill team advancing with each volley of lasfire. The Arbites moved in, one exchanging standard shotgun rounds for phosphor and the other laying about herself with power maul and bolt pistol. The blue clad Wardens were accomplished marksmen and between them they accounted for most of their armed foes with none of them taking any hits.

And then the cult unleashed their brutes.

Hulking monstrosities of flesh and metal either corrupted Ogryns or subjects of massive growth hormone and stimulant programmes. The three horrors ploughed through their own side scattering bodies left and right and tore into the first team. It was then that Alyssa signalled the teams to converge on team one and blow their charges. Dust fell from above as the shock waves reverberated around them.

Mafishal screamed as he unleashed a torrent of lightening into one or the brutes causing it to roar in pain and fall dead, shattering a large section of the exquisite mosaic floor. This did nothing to halt the impact of the other two. One of the beasts impaled an Arbite on a huge drill which had replaced his left arm. It, in turn was hacked apart by a bellowing Thurst, his power axes moving so fast that any attempt to block them was futile. The third had already dispatched two of the Wardens but was felled by a third who stabbed it though the eye with a powerblade even at the monster tore him in two. Reaching out lazily Thurst removed the brutes head before it hit the ground.

Thud noises from behind them signalled a volley of grenades from the other teams landing around the entrance way to the temple. The carnage was hideous as the rest of the cultist present, men, women and children were torn apart. Ostman’s flamer took out the guard stations while the teams moved in and dispatched any cultist still moving.

Alyssa stepped forward “team four secure the temple doors all others reload. Three when you are done relieve four.” She scanned the hub and admitted that as plans go this one was working. Four dead from the encounter with the brutes. She mused at her options for moving forward. “One, you are now merged with my companions and I. I will command.” The remaining Arbite merely nodded.

“Alyssa” the tone of Mafishal’s voice made her turn. His eyes were a deep crimson and blood trickled slowly out of the left one.

“Mafi, what is it? She asked trying hard to keep the concern out of her voice.

“There is something here, in there” he pointed into the temple with a shaking hand.

“Chaos cult, old fool” snorted Thurst pointing in the same direction. Mafishal looked over to Ostman and shook his head.

“No, not Chaos,” he said “something else.”

****************************************
As fast as they had progressed to the entrance to the temple movement beyond that point had been achingly slow. It was not that the cult was heavily armed. Quite the contrary as only a few guards or enforcers had serviceable las or bolt weapons. Even then not many of those knew how to use such weapons effectively. Their tactics seemed to be one of simply overwhelming any intruders with sheer force of numbers. As amateurish as they were the cultists had still accounted for another five members of their strike force.

The strangest part was that when each wave of cultists broke they retreated with their dead and dying. It made no sense as the followers of the Infernal viewed the dead with contempt and left them to rot where they fall. Her confusion continued until Alyssa realised what was missing. Iconography. In every temple she had cleansed before the vile eight pointed star, usually accompanied by one or more hideous glyphs of their benighted gods, would be in clear evidence.

Was this actually a chaos cult at all?

No, the designation was irrelevant. A kill order made it so.

They continued to progress through the passageways following the thick trails of blood. Occasionally they encountered a chunk of flesh or limb that had been left in the path and from the blood that oozed they could tell they were still descending. This was confirmed as the smooth walls gave way to bare rock and they entered what they could only describe as tunnels.

On they went but with the number of ambushes and attacks increasing within the confines of the cramped tunnels the Arbites took to the fore. Their suppressions shields were unslung and the pulping rounds of their shotguns made a terrible and bloody carpet beneath their feet. It was a truly a blessing that they did not encounter any brutes whose bulk, dead or alive would have stopped them in their tracks.

The tunnel eventually gave way to a large chamber seemed to extend for a few hundred feet. Reduced as they were now to half strength the kill teams under her command spread out and staggered their line. The vox channel they were using became a whispered stream of noise as the soldiers sounded out their pacing and progress.

“Contact” came a hushed voice. The entire force stopped dead.

“Disposition?” came Alyssa’s question.

“Fifty to sixty, just standing there”

“There are seventy two of us” The voice though spoken had the volume of a shout within the silence of the chamber. “Do not fear. We are all unarmed as we would not harm a servant of the righteous Emperor. We simply cannot allow you to pass this chamber.”

As if to illustrate his intent the speaker stepped forward, arms raised out to his side.

“I know not what has brought you here with hatred in your hearts but we, even now, welcome you in pea…”

The cavern was suddenly illuminated in a yellow light as Ostman’s flamer reduced the man to ashes in mere moments. The rest of the force opened fire on the unmoving mass. None screamed for mercy, implored the Emperor or even moved to avoid their destruction. It reminded Alyssa of the mass executions she had witnessed during the purge of Kalistos Gate.
 

“Foolishness” she spat. That they would stand against His will and expect any other end.

Behind the area the cultists had chosen to die at were a pair of large, brazen, doors. A imperial aquila, wrapped in what appeared to be roses, was embossed across its surface. The shadows from the burning masses around them made the rose stems seem to writhe. Her companions’ swapped glances and she could see confusion and worry on their faces. “None of that now,” she shouted and gestured dismissively at the doors “Thurst, if you would be so kind?”

The roar of super heated molecules was deafening as the doors dissolved into a pool of cooling brass. Thurst gave several more blasts of his meltagun. A huge grin spread over his face as he elbowed a nearby Warden.

“Nice, eh?” showing the weapon off. “Gift from dead soldier, looked like you in fact.” The Warden smiled politely and moved off next to his own. Thurst looked over and winked at Alyssa. She shook her head, exasperated, but smiled nonetheless.

She motioned for her companions to cover the now empty doorway and turned to the remaining Wardens and Arbites.

“Gentlemen I must re-organise you.” She turned to where the Arbites stood.” Officers you will form the bloodied fist of your insignia. I need you to hold the right flank of position within and as such you will enter last. Unless I order to do otherwise you are hold our exit at all costs. What follows is largely a planetary issue I’m sure you’ll agree.”

“ Wardens of the 14th,” she continued “Split yourself into two teams one assault, one fire support. The insertion order is thus. My command squad, assault team, fire team and finally the Arbites.”

As the men began to rearrange themselves she continued. “Warriors of the Emperor, have no doubt that he watches us and guides our hands and actions. That said, it’s likely to be a very fluid situation in there so I remind you that faith is not physical armour. The Emperor despises the waste of needless, prideful martyrdom. Accomplish your duty to Him and you will live forever in his grace.”

Platitudes she thought turning to lead them into the temple.

****************************************
Upon clearing the tunnel they raced to occupy the narrow curved platform that was before them. A sense of void identified the sheer drop on their left but on their right ran a low wall, broken in several places. Dropping down behind this sporadic cover Alyssa confirmed the layout of her squads and then, looking up, gave a sharp intake of breath as the scale of the environment they found themselves in registered.

The cavern was vast. Even with night vision it was almost impossible to see the extent of it. Tips of industrialised stalactites poked through the clouds of condensation and flocks of some subterranean creature swooped around them. Looking beyond the structure they occupied bare rock extended as far as they could see. Was this the bedrock of the planet itself? Could this area be that old?

Looking down from the wall they crouched behind Alyssa saw that the temple took the form of a large amphitheatre. It was not made of the same grey rockcrete used in the hab complexes but rather it was carved from the dark red living rock of Fentar Prime. It was a spectacular structure that certainly had seen better days. Large statues of those clearly identifiable as the Fentarian saints were dotted around the area. All were damaged or eroded. Some had collapsed and now stared beneficently up from the shattered seats they had crashed into.

The small force occupied the very top of the structure and the tiers of seats fell away before them all in forty or fifty rows. The floor or stage of the theatre was a hive of activity.
 

The sight was certainly a grand one spoiled only by the rough, moaning, barricade the cultist had built around the bottom of the seating. Its existence did account for the lack of bodies they encountered as they made their way through the complex. Piled nine or ten high the dead and dying of the cult now protected the few hundred that remained. As unsettling as that was the thing that unnerved Alyssa the most was what stood in the centre of the stage.

A large thick pillar the colour of bone towered over the cultists as they readied their defences. Definitely xenos in construction, it had the look of the Eldar witch material. Though this one had been scrawled with aquilas and had prayer strips nailed to it. Though it was largely intact it had certainly seen better days. Its surface was rougher than Eldar constructs usually were and as she watched she could see cultists chiselling pieces of it away. There were a small number of brutes there too, ripping larger chunks free with great roars of satisfaction.

The glow of more purple lamps cast long disturbing shadows and the stench of incense came up in thick waves. Trying to see the source of the foul smell they identified several huge braziers set into the stage of the amphitheatre. The brutes seemed to be ripping chunks out of the pillar and placed them into the fires. The air seemed to shiver each time the pieces ignited.

Stacks of large crates were stored next to two of the Braziers. All of them marked with Militarium munitions symbols and codes. Fire and explosives she thought shaking her head. Clearly this group had not the wit to be the threat the governor had reported them to be.

The other side of the stage was taken up with bookshelves, tables and, worryingly, two seemingly well equipped medicae units. Both had larger than normal men strapped to them, the spiderlike arms of the unit moving over them. No question remained for her that this was the source of the brutes.

“What in Thrones name is this place?”

“Lyss?” Ostman queried

“Nothing.” She shook her head in exasperation, who they are did not mater. Placing her hand on Ostmans arm she drew him close.

“ Lets stay off the vox. Head over to the 14th.” She nodded towards their positions. “Order the assault team move to the second stairway, next to the Arbites. When it begins they are to take the medicae bays and fire into the cultists from their flank. It looks to be made defensible with fairly little trouble.

Ostman nodded. “And the fire team?”

“What else? Take down the brutes. Once that is accomplished kill anything else that moves.”

“What of our brothers in black?”

“If they have any executioner rounds they can aid the fire team. If not then they can stay the course at the entrance”

“They won’t like it ‘Lyss” he said gravely “Their blood is full of imperial justice crying to come out.”

“They can kiss my ass Claude,” she snapped. “The amount of hoops those bastards make us jump through.”

“I won’t second guess you dear lady, I merely point out that they have better armour than our noble colleagues from the 14th.

“The Arbites didn’t wash their hands of this matter.”

“Ah, it’s to be a lesson then.” He mused.

“One Astraia will understand greatly in the coming months.”

He shook his head at waste of loyal troops. “Will any of them make it?”

Alyssa shook her head slightly. “It will be a valiant sacrifice. The cult will retaliate of course. More of the 14th will perish, roughly two thirds by our master’s instruction. Lord Governor Astraia is about to be as vulnerable as he portrayed himself to be.”

Ostman had served the Inquisitor too long to be surprised by the complexity and, occasionally, the bluntness of the messages sent between those in power. He moved off to communicate her orders with surprising stealth.

When he returned he signalled their readiness and, after briefly checking their weapons, Alyssa give the double vox click command for action.

Immediately the assault team vaulted wall and sprinted to the medicae stations. The going was rough but the Wardens darted over the broken masonry and fallen statues with ease. They had descended nearly half way when the first cries of alarm came from below.

Another double vox click and the thump of grenade launchers sounded as the fire team began laying covering fire for their comrades. The first volley detonated against the barricade creating clouds of pink mist from the holes it gouged into dying wall. Having found their range the next volley crested the wall and exploding where they landed disrupting any attempt to slow the assault team. The echoes of the detonations washed slowly around the cavern underscoring the gunfire and screaming.

Having reached their objective with the loss of only one Warden the assault team swiftly cut the throats of the patients and tipped the plassteel tables over, the spidery limbs continuing to flail uselessly against the stone floor. Resting their weapons in the table edges they began to pour lasfire onto the cultist position, their flamers igniting the dying wall increasing the screaming and popping of flesh. The smell was horrific.

With a roar the remaining brutes burst through the flaming wall of bodies and rushed the squad of wardens. Cultists followed in their wake wielding chainswords.

Again the fire team took out a few with grenades while with deep booms the Arbite rounds ploughed into the flesh of one of the brutes. The lead creature slowed its run, clutching the great tear in his shoulder where his arm once was. Shock clearly set in and the brute toppled forward crashing through on the tables. A brutal melee began with the Wardens, supported by sniping from Alyssa and three Wardens from above, held their position against the superior numbers of their foe.

A second swarm of cultist had begun ascending the stairs and seats roaring defiance and taking shots with stub and las weapons. Ostman stood and hurled the two remaining fuel tanks for his flamer down towards them. Thurst joined him at the wall and aiming carefully fired his meltagun.

The ignited fuel tank exploded swallowed the right flank of the swarm, making the mass of bodies move to their left. Before he could take a second shot Thurst was hit square in the chest and went down hard. Alyssa stood and snap fired her las carbine at the remaining canister which took out the centre oncoming force.

Behind her Thurst was screaming profanity while getting back on his feet. Throwing his meltagun to the floor in disgust he stripped off his ruined armoured jacket and activated his axes. He smashed them into the wall sending shards of stone spraying down the steps as he ran headlong into the cultist. Ostman sighed audibly as, unsheathing the sword from his back, he followed his friend.

Alyssa returned to supporting the assault team below and while doing so felt the prickling of her skin that signified Mafishal had begun to summon a larger amount of powers of the warp.
Since the start of the conflict he had been supporting the imperial force in small ways either by emboldening the assault team on their charge, guiding the accuracy of the fire team or, as she suspected, increasing the cultists’ fear of fire to take advantage of their panic.

She glanced back and immediately knew something was wrong. He was on his knees blood flowing freely from his eyes and ears.

“Mafi!” she snapped at him.

“The braziers,” he said through gritted teeth “the tainted material they burn is wreaking havoc within the local aetherium” he slouched forward onto to all fours. “Harder to summon a shield.”
He straightened sharply, hands thrust upwards. The air above them seemed to warp and glow and she glanced quickly down the where the assault team continued to engage the cultists. She could see a corresponding glow form in front of the medicae tables. The shield, once completed, would allow the Wardens to fire with impunity while protecting them from almost anything the cultist could throw at them.

With a final grunt Mafishal completed the incantation; the shield glowed strongly once and then became invisible. It was in place and Alyssa’s relief at having a solid flank from which to proceed was interrupted by the sound of a body hitting the cold stone slabs behind her. Mafishal had collapsed onto his side the strain of his work finally taking its toll. His eyes were open and he managed a thin smile. She nodded her thanks and returned to picking off their opposition.

The battle was now coming to the tipping point. The cultist still had the numbers but the imperial force now had the high ground, the firepower and a flanking position from which to push from. She watched as the cultists retreated under fire back to the safety of their dead. No doubt preparing for another counter charge. The assault and fire teams continued to pour fire onto them as they moved.

She looked over to see Ostman restraining Thurst from following the cultist through the flames. Thurst was screaming taunts and making a number of crude gestures towards the wall of dead below.

She snorted at the sight. We may actually accomplish this she thought and returned to forming the plan for the close of this conflict.

The first sign that things were amiss on the floor below was when one of the cultists stood, heedless of the firestorm around him and gestured grandly towards the imperial lines, had he actually bowed to her?

Other cultists could be seen reaching for him, trying to bring him back behind the barricade of their dead. He beat their hands away and waved eagerly, beckoning the imperials forward while at the same time he had swiftly punched one of his companions in the chest. The wastrel looked up in horror and then exploded in a shower of pulped flesh. The waving cultist then seemed to melt, as if seen through the heat of a great dessert.

What stood in his place now was a much slender figure clad in black, blue and white. His face seemingly covered in a pale violet mask frozen in a sneer of contempt. Yellow and purple ribbons fluttered as if in a breeze though there could be no wind this far below ground. The figure had then exploded into a shower of lights and flipped back towards the pillar.

From her position she could only watch as perhaps another half-dozen cultists went through a similar transformation. They all converged on the pillar until it seemed to be surrounded by a pulsating halo. Faster and faster they spun around it until, with an ethereal hum a large round pool formed above it bathing the surrounding area in blue-white light.

Almost as soon as it formed pale streaks of light leapt from the shimmering pool into the mass of cultist. Screams began to sound out from their position, heard clearly above the roar of the fires and staccato booms of the grenades and bolt shells detonating.

Larger streaks shot through in pairs swooping gracefully above the amphitheatre. Following them carefully they appeared to be a larger form of jetbike , one with two riders. Some raced after cultists attacking them with long spear while others seemed happy to hover over the scene and watch. The attackers eventually rejoined their companions weaving between the hanging detritus of the hive above while those watchers would in turn begin their attack run.

What looked to be a transport came net a sleek multicoloured craft. Its trio of passengers trailing ribbons of ever changing hue behind them. The craft turned in a lazy arc and one by one the hooded Eldar stepped gracefully into the air and floated down holding their staves before them until finally the came to rest a short distance above the ground. The long pipes they wore on their backs sang gently as they sent out volleys of she assumed to be small grenades. Each one exploding into a ball of blue-green gas.

Last of all came six black clad figures of death, scythes held at the ready. Either they wore no type of light field projector or had chosen not to activate them. The effect of their grim arrival brought the cultist to new heights of terror. They lowered their weapons and begun the bloody work of reducing the cultists to strips of bloodied flesh.

From beginning to end their arrival and opening assault took less than twenty seconds. The cultist were swiftly and methodically decimated before her eyes with an efficiency and grace she had rarely seen.

“Eldar,” came Mafishal’s rasping voice “we cannot now prevail here.” A bloody cough wracked his chest. “Return to our master. Destroy the tunnels” he pointed towards the exit.

Alyssa was surprised by his reticence to fight on but witnessing the wholesale slaughter below she needed no further convincing. She had faced brutal Eldar slavers in a boarding action nearly five years past and while some of them had been graceful, in a predatory fashion, these Eldar were in another class. She had also both fought side by side and, 2 years later, against the vile necromancers of the Iyanden witch-world. The thought of their blasphemous war puppets still brought her a keen, righteous fury. Certainly though they were nothing like these warriors before her.

Though it was a one sided fight the xenos were not engaging the imperial soldiers at all. An opportunity at least.

"Strike force hold.” She voxed, glancing over at the Arbites who were looking back at her in apparent disbelief. She held up a fist but only one nodded in response. Both the assault and fire teams instantly stopped shooting.

The Eldar were of course unexpected. As was the presence of what appeared to be some form of xenos gateway on a settled imperial world. Mafishal was correct, they would need to withdraw and take word of this to their master.

This had now escalated beyond a simple kill order.

“Assault team?” she queried as both Thurst and Ostman returned. Ostman knelt over Mafishal concern written all over his face.

“Sir!” Came the Wardens response

“Get you asses back up here.”

“Sir, the Xenos...” uncertainty clear his voice

“… are clearly not interested in us. Move. Now!” Thurst tilted his head, the unspoken question clearly there. Alyssa gestured towards their exit with one hand and covered her face briefly with the other. He nodded and helped Ostman raise their companion to his feet.

“ Chastener hold position and prepare for extraction.” She said looking directly at the Arbites position.

No response.

“Chastener? Confirm that order!” Alyssa bellowed almost loud enough to be heard without the vox unit.

As sometimes happens, the universe fell into profound silence allowing a truly terrible decision to take centre stage.

The sound of a bolt pistol rang out loud and clear.

Almost in slow motion the round sped to its target and took the pillion rider from one of the Eldar jetbikes. It was an incredible shot by any reckoning that sent the rider arcing off the bike and hurtling to the floor. As they fell the mass reactive warhead in the bolt detonated and opened them up like some rare blossom.

What landed was somewhat less than elegant.

Time seemed to stand still as the Eldar, seemingly as one, looked towards the imperial positions. Alyssa watched in horror as the Chastener who had fired the round roared and leapt the short wall. He and his black clad Arbites charged down the tiers making it to the floor before being cut down by a flurry of razor discs.

Two of their floating witches boarded the small hovering transport and rose almost vertically until the vehicle passed into the clouds above the amphitheatre.

The Assault team crested the top of the wall and Alyssa voxed an immediate retreat to the larger chamber beyond the tunnel.

The faint sound of song was carried down from above as the wardens and acolytes moved towards the exit. Grenades began to land spraying out the blue-green mist with a sibilant hiss until remaining soldiers entirely covered.

“Respirators!” Alyssa shouted. “Now!”

It was already too late

Wild eyed, the Wardens of the fire team turned on each other. Weapons fired at almost point blank range. Solders opened each other up with grenade fire or eviscerated with powerblades. Their shapes warped as she watched them transform into hideous monsters, grasping warpspawn and some even revealed themselves as cultists.

She felt fury overtake her at the thought of their betrayal, of their duplicity and her shame at being so ignorant of their true natures.

How could she have been so stupid? Wait. No, she could not have been.

“No!” She screamed as realisation hit her. “No, this is not true, not right!” Her head swam and she felt herself moving slowly as if the air suddenly thickened around her.

In front of her Thurst stiffened, the veins of his arms bulging through his skin. He screamed with unrestrained rage and tore Mafishal’s throat out with his teeth. The psyker lashing out with lightening clad hands burning his killer as he bled to death. The blade of a large powersword punched through the torsos as Ostman, singing hymns to Him of Terra, activated the weapon and bisected the pair from chest to head in one fluid movement.

“Claude!” Alyssa shouted at him raising her weapon and flicking it onto full auto. He looked over at her, smiling he beckoned her to him.

“Drop the sword Claude, do it now!” She said backing up

Irritation washed over his face at her reluctance and turning his back on the closing stages of the bloodbath behind him he charged. Alyssa hesitated briefly before she emptied the full clip into her oldest companion. His momentum kept him moving even though he was dead before hitting the ground.

She collapsed backwards landing heavily against a statue and cried out in agony. The split second she had given him allowed the tip of his sword to open up her belly.

Alyssa blacked out to the enraged cries of the dying wardens.

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

The slaughter below had finished. The moans of the wounded and dying moved into dominance to be punctuated by the final grunts and screams of those who lost their final battle. Some activity the Eldar were now up to resulted in thumping and the whoosh of flames. The stench in the sepulchre was hideous as if the heady musk of the braziers where now overpowered by the roasting of dead bodies.

Alyssa eyes popped open.

The braziers.

The fools had stored their munitions next to the braziers. One shot, she thought, dear lord Emperor one shot is all I need to send those filthy Eldar, burning, to your judgment.

This however presented her with a rather large problem. She would have to move, get a weapon, return and take the shot all with her damned guts hanging out. Steeling herself she gathered them up as best she could. Tears streaming down her face she rose to her knees and risked a glance around the fallen idol. Looking down onto stage she watch as the multi-hued Eldar went about their business.

Three hooded figures wielding staves were busying themselves around the large expanses of bookshelves. Their hands waved over each volume and some few were plucked and placed on one of the small transports. The rest were carried by the other s and dumped unceremoniously into any of several large fires. The fires were where the remains of the brutes were also being deposited. The bodies dragged unceremoniously behind the two-seater jetbikes.

With the exception of those armed with heavy weapons the rest of the Eldar were on the floor of the amphitheatre repairing tears in their bodysuits, repainting their vehicles, stretching or duelling with others and indeed more than a few seemed to be dancing, some even mocking the lolloping steps of the combat brutes the cultists had unleashed.

It was the black clad Eldar however that chilled Alyssa to her core. They were walking amongst bodies of cultist and imperial alike. Their scythe bladed weapons rising and falling in graceful sweeps as they dispatched the dying. One of the five terrors was waving an admonishing finger to an Arbite who was crawling towards his weapon before burying the blade into his back.

Wait. Five?

The kick struck her head and she was sent spinning over the makeshift barricade and down several tiers of the amphitheatre. She landed heavily next to the top half of the statue she had just been behind. Her intestines were now strewn wildly about. She heaved them back onto her lap ignoring the new rips in them. The feeling of terror now better that any Morpha and apothecary could provide she made to move but a foot slammed down hard on her thigh. Alyssa called out in pain but was none the less determined to look her killer in the eye so she raised her head. The Eldar loomed over her as true a spectre of death as Alyssa could have imagined, scythe raised, impassive. As the weapon descended a word rang out from below, somehow both whispered and shouted at the same time.

The killing blow never landed as the blade drove into the statue at the last moment removing its head in a shower of stone splinters. The spectre shifted her body, was it a she?, towards the one who spoke, by her posture it was clear the anger the xenos was projecting. The field of diamonds and skulls flittered as if expressing their own irritation.

Another Eldar came into view and the spectre gave a grand, if mocking, bow which was ignored. This seemed to incense the spectre whose mask suddenly changed into a representation of Alyssa’s own but one plastered with a look of contempt. Spectral-Alyssa stuck its tongue out at the other.

The newcomer knelt by the dying human. Alyssa could feel herself begin to fade, not long until I see Him. The thought made her smile and she looked up into the aliens face. But it wasn’t his face. It was the face of Drill-Abbott Lequois eyes wide she tried to move back from the face of the man that still visited her nightmares. Suddenly the face was gone to be replaced by that of Anastasia Groff, the one other progena who made her life a living hell for 3 years in a row until the “accident”. In turn it was replaced by that of Arbite Dellman, the Arbite instructor who lavished a bit too much attention on his charges. Before even recalling the details of his fall from grace it was replaced by another and then another.

All of the faces merged in turn until they began to repeat. All thoughts of pain or even worry left Alyssa as she watched the low points of her life play out in the faces of those people that had given her nothing but fear and pain and who had done their best to take her confidence and sense of self-worth.

Then the faces began to fall away as she thought of the steps she had taken against each of them. Lequois void suit malfunction, the switch of Anastasias ammo from blank to live, the castrated and beaten body of Dellman the victim of yet more gang violence. Faster and faster the faces fell away until only three remained.

The avuncular face of Inquisitor Abreu looked amused but such amusement did not reach his cold, jet black eyes. The face of Him on Terra was as beautiful and cold as the day she saw his statue in the main chapel at the Schola Progenium on Vostass. The final face was her own. By far it was the one that always scared her the most.

She lowered her head and the pain flooded back. She sucked in air through her teeth and nodded slightly accepting this was the end. Alyssa closed her eyes and slipped into unconsciousness.

His hand came up suddenly and grabbed her chin. Deftly it tilted her head back and with his other hand he stabbed the metal finger tip off his glove into her neck. Alyssa screamed in shock and batted the hand away. Still holding her head firmly the fingers of his other hand danced in the air off to his left.

A trio of the staff wielding xenos had been looking on from the side and, when the other made the gesture, they huddled down in exaggerated almost childlike poses, then suddenly straightened, they bowed and glided over to the pillar. They seemed to remove something from it and one of them returned and handed it to the kneeling figure. Before returning to its fellows the xenos pirouetted and somehow at the same time patted Alyssa on the head as one might a pet.

“Merciful Emperor strike them down” she said. She began to murmur a prayer but the spectral-Alyssa simply reached down and slapped the side of her head. The kneeling figure chuckled and shook his head as he separated what looked to be an egg. A bulbous thing not unlike the protuberances on Eldar vehicles. He finally got it open and tipped it contents onto her lap. It felt cold. Alyssa looked down and immediately wished she had not.

Spiders.

Spiders were scuttling over her exposed innards. She could see their crystalline, bone coloured, carapaces disappear into her jagged wound. The sensation of their legs moving through her brought a fire like pain she had never experienced. Her mouth distended in a scream but no sound came. She felt her body writhe with unwelcome life, was it to be a method of torture or form of vile xenos infection?

Even though greatly weakened she struggled against her captor. Hands and more hands held her down as her body fought against them, desperate to get away, to get the spiders out of her.
And suddenly all pain was gone. The hands were removed and, looking down through tear filled eyes her intestines were gone. Her stomach was whole.

“What have you done to me?” she finally managed to scream but the Xenos was already walking away. She looked back up at her herself, clad in black, white and bone. Her doppelganger was laughing. She shook a finger at her, spoke a single word and drove the butt of the shuriken cannon it into the side of Alyssa’s head. Darkness took her as she repeated the word in confusion.

"Learn?"

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

She snapped awake, hands instinctively reaching for the wound in her stomach. She felt damp cloth but the skin underneath was smooth and whole. She felt sick.

“What did you filthy bastards do to me.” She said to no-one in particular. She was alive and By the Throne that was to something to be thankful for. Gingerly she stood and looked at the devastation the xenos had left in their wake. Not a thing moved. Fires burned fuelled by bodies, furniture and books. In the centre of the chamber the bone pillar stood, undamaged. Of the multi coloured Eldar no sign remained. She held her stomach again. How would she explain this? Should she explain this?

No, not yet. What she needed now was time. That meant reducing the number of questions she would be asked. Thinking quickly she stripped off jacket and undershirt casting them into a nearby fire. Then, biting down on a sheaf of papers, she held her arm over the flames until her forearm blistered and burned. Grunting in pain she removed her arm and gave a small nod of approval.

She returned to where her command group had fallen. She retrieved a med-kit and dressed her arm. She thought about using the pain meds but decided against them. The damned things always made her groggy. She stood over Ostman’s body, he had been a good companion and she would mourn him and the rest. After, no if, she survived debriefing. Taking up his flamer she washed the entire area with cleansing promethium. Then backing up behind the stump of a pillar she threw a pair of frag grenades into the fresh fire. They detonated with a louder than usual thud in the silence and sent large chunks of her friend flying through the air.

Her alibi suitably in place she took a fresh armoured jacket from one of the dead Wardens along with his lasgun and made for the bottom of the amphitheatre to confirm the dead and get a feel for the report she would give. It was only when she was on the floor of the theatre did she hear the sound of prayer.

Weapon up she rounded the side of a collapsed medicae tables. On the far side she saw a member of the 14th Wardens pinned underneath one of the hulking brutes that had spearheaded the cults counter attack. She flicked the lasgun’s safety off and checked the line of sight to where the foul Eldar had preyed on her. No, there was no way to see it. Flicking the safety back on she moved forwards.

“Oh! I do beg your pardon. Am I interrupting?” She said with a smirk.

An expression of terror passed his face followed by one of immense relief. “Sir, please?” He nodded towards the thing on top of him.

“Hold on then.” There was nothing nearby that could be used to pry the thing off of the Warden so she returned with a cultist’s chainsword. “Seems only fitting eh?” she said jovially adding “you might want to close your mouth” as she activated it. The spray of meat, gristle and bone painted the huge slab of stone as both of the beast’s legs were removed. So lightened they were both able to roll it off the soldier who got to his feet rather unsteadily. He looked at the jacket she wore, the match of his own and raised an eyebrow.

“A flamer took our position,” she explained “set my damn arm ablaze. Lucky to still have it.” She said flexing her injured arm. “I hope you don’t mind but I needed a change of armour. No offence meant to your regiment.”

“Of course Sir.” the soldier responded satisfied. “None taken.”

Throne will I ever understand regimental pride she thought.

“What's your name Warden?”

“Novatich, Sir” he said struggling to straighten himself out though Alyssa could see he was still a little wild about the eyes.

"Easy Warden" she said laying what she hoped was a soothing hand on his shoulder. "What is your full name?"

“Ignacio Novatich Sir, watch officer of his Graces 14th Wardens.”

Alyssa gave a small nod. "I had not expected any of us to return from here Ignacio, once the xenos joined in". You may still not she thought to herself. "I’m happy to be wrong. Can you walk?"

“Yes Sir" he snapped to and as he did so motes of dirt and ... other things shook off his shoulders. “Survivors Sir?”

“It appears we are it.”

“Sir, are we returning to the palace?"

"In due course Warden, but my master will want to debrief us before we inform the Governor of events here. Success needs no explanation…"

"… Failure allows none” he responded. “It's only..." he looked towards the burning piles of dead cultists. He had clearly been unsettled by the fight Alyssa thought. When you serve the Inquisition you see such sights regularly and, if that damned fool Magos Charkov was to be believed, become mentally tainted by it. Regardless it was easy to forget that the vast majority of humanity, even the nobility, had neither dealings with nor exposure to Xenos. As it should be of course she added.

"It's only?" she responded raising an eyebrow.

"Well Sir, I recognised several faces from my lord’s court. Lords and ladies of no small renown, from old families. If you catch my meaning Sir?"

She nodded gravely and suppressed a smirk. Well, well. You put your lord before comrades, before eve questions of xenos filth; there is a chance you may come out of this alive after all.

"More need for haste then" she encouraged yet he stood his ground. She locked eyes with him, her stomach clenched. Here it comes.

"What of my cadre Sir? Your command team?" He gestured to the bodies

“Death in service to the Throne is not death as we understand it Warden, it is peace. The people we remember are before Him, in honour." she gestured to the nearest group of violated bodies. "These are not our comrades and these bodies will lay here until our masters decide to claim them."

He scowled while processing this. “Very well Sir. I thank you for your indulgence. What do you command?”

After gathering what arms and ammunition they could salvage they moved back up and out of the temples exit. Weapons raised, alternating corner to corner, scanning the passageways for opposition the quietly they made their way back to the storeroom. They encountered nothing on their return save for the shouts for the cultists trapped within the habs off the hub. Standing in the doorway Alyssa motioned for Ignacio to come closer.

"Fastner" She called up through the breach.

"Speeder!" Came the challenge.

"Double Amsec" She gave the response and moments later a pack ladder was lowered.

She motioned for the Warden to ascend but, perhaps clinging to his duty as a bodyguard, he shook his head and gestured for her to go first.

Alyssa snorted; perhaps he’ll be useful she thought as she climbed up.

Ignacio watched her impassively from the doorway. When she was clear he glanced back down the long passageway and for the briefest of moments his features were replaced by a sneering violet mask.