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CONTENTS

CoverBacklistTitlePageWarhammer40,000Chapter1Chapter2Chapter3Chapter4Chapter5Chapter6Chapter7Chapter8Chapter9Chapter10Chapter11Chapter12Chapter13Chapter14Chapter15Chapter16Chapter17Chapter18Chapter19Chapter20Chapter21Chapter22Chapter23

Chapter24Chapter25Chapter26Chapter27Chapter28Chapter29Chapter30Chapter31Chapter32Chapter33Chapter34AbouttheAuthorAnExtractfrom‘JainZar–TheStormofSilence’ABlackLibraryPublicationeBooklicense

WARHAMMER40,000

Itisthe41stmillennium.FormorethanahundredcenturiestheEmperorhassatimmobileontheGoldenThroneofEarth.Heisthemasterofmankindbythewillofthegods,andmasterofamillion

worldsbythemightofhisinexhaustiblearmies.HeisarottingcarcasswrithinginvisiblywithpowerfromtheDarkAgeofTechnology.HeistheCarrionLordoftheImperiumforwhomathousandsoulsare

sacrificedeveryday,sothathemaynevertrulydie.

Yeteveninhisdeathlessstate,theEmperorcontinueshiseternalvigilance.Mightybattlefleetscrossthedaemon-infestedmiasmaofthe

warp,theonlyroutebetweendistantstars,theirwaylitbytheAstronomican,thepsychicmanifestationoftheEmperor’swill.Vastarmiesgivebattleinhisnameonuncountedworlds.Greatestamongst

HissoldiersaretheAdeptusAstartes,theSpaceMarines,bio-engineeredsuper-warriors.Theircomradesinarmsarelegion:theAstraMilitarumandcountlessplanetarydefenceforces,theever-

vigilantInquisitionandthetech-priestsoftheAdeptusMechanicustonameonlyafew.Butforalltheirmultitudes,theyarebarelyenoughtoholdofftheever-presentthreatfromaliens,heretics,mutants–and

worse.

Tobeamaninsuchtimesistobeoneamongstuntoldbillions.Itistoliveinthecruellestandmostbloodyregimeimaginable.Thesearethetalesofthosetimes.Forgetthepoweroftechnologyandscience,forsomuchhasbeenforgotten,nevertobere-learned.Forgetthepromiseofprogressandunderstanding,forinthegrimdarkfuturethereisonlywar.Thereisnopeaceamongstthestars,onlyaneternityofcarnage

andslaughter,andthelaughterofthirstinggods.

CHAPTER1

CONCERNINGTHEYNNARI

Nevertrustagod.Youcanbecertainofone thing, ifanything.Godsorder theuniverse to theirdesignandnothingelse,andyoucanbesurethatyourwantsandneedsfeaturelittle in theiragenda.For theaeldari,distrustinggods is in theirnature,havingbeenabandonedbyonepantheonofgodheadsanddestroyedbythebirthscreamofadeityforgedfromtheirownwantonexcess.Suchexperiencebreedscautionifnotoutrightcontempt.And of the gods that survived – excepting that ravenousmaw of destructionknownasSheWhoThirsts–theyarebutapaleshadowoftheirformerstatus.Khaine, shattered into little pieces of angry metal and scattered through thecraftworlds.Cegorach,thesupremetrickster,theLaughingGod,dancingmerrilythrough the webway just one step ahead of the predatory intent of the GreatEnemy,pluckingsoulsfromhisgraspasandwhenchanceallows.So imagine the towering hubris of not only serving a god in such times, buttryingtocreateone.Suchaccusationcannotbelevelledwhollyuponthefirstofourplayersinthisplot,forshewasunwittinglybroughtintothefoldoftheYnnari,somethingofacosmicsideeffect.Collateraldeificationonemightcallit.ThehubriswasthatofEldradUlthran,buttheweightofhismistake–hiserrorbeingtoonlypartiallysucceedinbringingabouttheapotheosisofYnnead,godofthedead–felluponthe shoulders of Yvraine, formerly the Daughter of Shadows andmany othertitlesbeforeandsince.Far toocomplex for this retellingare the tales that led to this terrible turnofevents and their immediate consequence. They are but a few threads in the

tapestryofagalaxytornasunderbytheresurgenceoftheDarkPowersandthefailuresofaeldariandhumanalike.ButwhileEldraddidnotbringabouttheriseofYnnead,hedidsucceedinpart,for in the wake of his actions came the Ynnari, sworn to find and unite thecroneswordsofMorai-HegtobringaboutthefinalelevationoftheWhisperingGod.Sotheybelieve.Myths, like gods, should be treatedwith some scepticism also. They have ahabitofbeingretoldtothebenefitoftheteller.Youwouldnotdoubttheadviceofthisreliablenarratorwouldyou?Inpursuing thisgoal, theYnnaribrokeacraftworld–Biel-tan–andbroughtmuchgrieftotheaeldari,butfromtheseashesaroseanewunderstandingwithsome of the servants of the Emperor.Onewas brought forth from the distantpast,atruelegendfromthetimewhentheEmperorofMankindwalkedabroadamongthemortals,ratherthanexistedasavampirichusksustainedbythesoulsofhisownservantsandtechnologystolenfromtheaeldari.Thisindividualwasaprimarch,whomhumanityfoolishlycalledamanintheirignoranceofwhattheirmasterhadtrulycreated.RobouteGuilliman,theirfinestleader and statesman, a warrior and commander beyond anything theircrumbling empire could muster in the previous ten thousand orbits of theirhomeworld.Evenso,thetidewasnotstopped,butitwasslowedandthedominanceoftheRealmofChaosstemmedforatime.AndbyroundaboutmeanswecomebacktothetaleofYvraine,whohaddaredtheheartofvilenessknownas theEyeofTerror, thestormthatswallowedthecentre of the old aeldari dominions, on an errand forGuilliman.As part of agrander scheme between aeldari and humans, she had promised to retrieve anartefactofChaosfromtheclutchesofarenegadeprimarch,thedaemonprinceofNurgle,calledMortarionbythehumans.She is, unexpectedly, in danger. We join her as she flees the castle of thedaemon prince with her prize, the Hand of Darkness, passing through themetaphysical Garden of Grandfather Nurgle himself to reach the relativesanctuary of the webway. Her small force was beset by plaguebearers andslobberingbeastsofNurgle,theirportaltosafetywaninginitspower.

Rancidmatter dripped along the lengthof theSwordofSorrows anddribbledovertheknucklesofYvraine’sarmouredglove.Athickswarmofred-and-black

flies closed about the daemon blood, sticking to the gelatinous filth as theysuppedonescapingwarpenergy.ShefoughtbackherdisgustandhewedKha-virinto the next foe, another gangling, pot-bellied plaguebearerwith a cyclopeanfaceandprotrudinghorn.Itbaredrazorteethinaninanegrinevenasitsrustedblade shattered on the runesuit beneath her layers of courtly attire. Thepsychically-charged armour pulsed with silver light in the other-realm ofNurgle’s garden, just as the Sword of Sorrows seemed as much a blade ofkeeningdespairasaphysicalobject.Shecleavedawaytheplaguebearer’sarm.Moreichorspewed,splashingthicklytothemoulderingleavesthatcoveredtheground.Yvraine finished it off with another cut, severing neck and shoulder with asingleblow.Aheadshecouldseehergoalswirlingthroughthecanopyofdecayingfoliageand twisted branches of a dismal forest. The shimmer of the portal ebbed,becoming a little fainter with every heartbeat, the link back to the webwaysuccumbingtotheinevitableerosionofNurgle’spower.Ifitclosed…She did not think any further along those lines. It was imposs ible tocountenancefailure.Shehadbeenanointedastheemissaryofagod,herpurposewasfarhigherthananymortalbattle.

Besideher,clad inarchaiccrimsonarmour, theVisarchwasablurofconstantmotion. The corroded blades of Nurgle’s tallymen cut swirls through the flyswarm around him but not once did their attacks connectwith the superlativewarrior,eachswordblowpartingnothingbutsmallfurrybodiesandpestilentair.His own blade, legendary cronesword Asu-var – Sword of Silent Screams –dancedaslightasafeatheronabreeze,decapitatinganddismemberingwithouteffort.Once, he had burned with the fury of Khaine, but no longer. His righteoushatredandragehadbeenbeatenintoafardeadlierweapon,hissoultakenfromthegraspoftheBloody-HandedOnetoserveYnnead.Hesaweverythingwithcrystalclarity,havingpassedthroughtheinfernoofangerintotheplacidwatersbeyond.Like the mistress he had sworn to protect, the Visarch paid no heed to hissurroundingsother thanas it impededtheirprogress.Comingbeneaththetreesthat surrounded their escape route, he stepped over roots that grasped at hisanklesandswayedbeneathcreepersthatflickedlikeserpenttonguestoentanglehisarms.EachtimeAsu-varlickedout,ittouchednotonlytheimmortalbodyof

a daemon but severed the questing tendrils of Nurgle’s trees. He ignored thescrapeand flutterof leavesonhishelm, strikingand flailing like lankcorpse-fingersonthecurvesofhisarmour.‘Any who cannot keep up, we leave,’ he told the armoured warriors aroundhim–theVisarch’sguard,knownastheCoiledBlade.Incubihadbeentheirtitlein the Dark City, renowned as terror-inspiring and incorruptible mercenaries.Whatbargain theVisarchhad struckwith themwasnotknown toanyoutsidetheirgroup,buttheyfoughtashardintheserviceofYvraineastheyhadforanymaster of the kabals. They still bore their klaives, double-handed blades thatcouldshearafoeinhalfwithasinglewell-timedblow,whethermortalornot.As theVisarch’s retainers foughtwith him, soYvraine’s stayed close to her.Alongside the Coiled Blade at the heart of the Ynnari force were the oldestconverts to the cause of the SeventhWay. Lightly clad, lithe and athletic, theBloodbrides had been Yvraine’s sisters in bloodshed since her time in theCrucibael arena of Commorragh. They fought now as they did then –gladiatrices possessed of devastating speed and faultless teamwork, theirweapons perfectly complementing each other as they ensnared, slashed andslicedtheirwayintothepressofplaguebearersandslitheringdaemons.Togetherwith theCoiledBlade theywereknownas thesoulbound, thefierceheartofYvraine’shost.Beyond this knot of warriors the other Ynnari fought through the daemonichost, a slender blade of warriors that pierced the undulating mob of lesserdaemonsandslatheringbeastsspawnedfromtheformlessdespairandquashedhopesofmortals.ThosethathadaccompaniedYvraineintotheimmortalGardenofNurglehailedoriginally from thedarkcityofCommorragh.Raisedwithoutspirit stones, their souls empty but for that which they stole from others, theformerwychesandkabalitesprojectedlesspresenceintheRealmofChaosthantheirkinofthecraftworlds.Theirancienttiestotheirkabalsandwychcultshadbeensevered,replacedbyservice to theOpenerof theSeventhWayandhergod.Manystill foughtwithsplinterrifleandserratedblade,thetrappingsoftheirformerallegiancemaskedby fresh colours – armour and helms of deep red, blazoned with runes ofYnnead,anddecorationsofblackandwhite.And then therewere theHarlequins.Among thedrearybrownsandgreensofthe decaying lands, the bright suits, gleaming power blades and kaleidoscopeholofieldsoftheHarlequinswerestark.Theymovedlightlyacrossthemuddiedgroundanddancedbetweenthebolesofthetrees,laughinganddelightinginthe

runningfightwiththeplaguebearers.TheVisarchwas not surewhat the followers of theLaughingGod sought inreturn for their aid to Ynnead’s chosen, and he did not ask lest the offer berevoked. Likely it was simply the chance to strike back at the hated DarkPowers. IfYvraine succeeded in her ultimate goal of uniting the croneswordsandwakeningYnnead,theGreatEnemywouldbeslainandtheHarlequinsfreedasmuchasanyotheraeldari.

Whichbringsus toanotherworthytowhomattentionmustbedrawn.Hetookthe name of Idraesci Dreamspear when he joined the companies of theHarlequins; ofhis lifebefore thenonlyheknows, andhedoesnot share suchsecrets. Dreamspear was both charming and witty, legendarily handsome andwise,ofcourse.TheseandmanyothermarvelloustraitssawhimascendtothepositionofGreatHarlequinwiththeMasqueoftheMidnight Sorrow.Howhisfatebecameentangledwith thatofYvraine,andhowheandhisbandcame tofollowboththeLaughingGodandtheWhisperingGodisafascinatingtalefullof intrigue, adventure and timelessly enchanting moments. And, alas, far toolongtorecounthere.Like many of the Ynnari, Dreamspear and the Midnight Sorrow were onlyoccasionalcompanionsofYvraine,sometimeschartingtheirowndestiny,othertimesrejoiningtheemissaryonherquesttospreadthecreedoftheReborn.Likeall of Cegorach’s sons and daughters, Dreamspear was knowledgeable in thewindingtracksofthewebwayandtheguilesofChaos,andforsuchreasonhadbeensoughttoaccompanyheronthemissiontoretrievetheHandofDarkness.Amissionhehadbeenhappytoaccept,beingswornnotonlytotheRebornbutalsothedestructionofSheWhoThirsts.Two oaths he regretted heartily as he bounded and somersaulted through themeleeagainstthedaemonsofGrandfatherNurgle,theirrustedswordsandrankclawsbutahair’sbreadthfromhisthroatandface.‘Prayheedmywords,mymerrybrothersandsisters,’hecalledtohismasque,slicingbladethroughdaemonflesh,thebeamsoftheneuro-disruptorinhisotherhand scattering the rudimentary sentience bound within the false synapses ofanotherplaguebearer.‘Itisfollytoliveinregret,butIregretthatIamdoomedtoliveinfolly.’Dreamspear’s flashing powersword parted the chest of another wheezing,scabbyfoe,leavingalineofspatteredpusonthedarkleaves.‘Andifeveryoushouldhearmedeclarethatoneneverfeelssoaliveaswhen

onestaresdeathintheface,beagoodfriendandremindmeofthistime.’Hewasaltogetherconvincedthatheandhiscompanionswouldmeettheirendin thatdismal forest.This thought served to invigorate rather thancausesoberdespair,foriftheheirsoftheLaughingGodknowanything,itisthatalifespentfrugally isa lifepassedpoorly.Forallhiscontritebanter,Dreamspearheldnorealfearofdeath.InaligninghimselfnotonlytoCegorachbutalsoYnnead,hehad not one but two chances at avoiding the tormenting damnation ofconsumption by SheWho Thirsts, which when all things are considered, arebetterodds thanmostaeldariaregiven. Itwas thus thathe laughed loudashethrewhimselfintothefight,leapingfromonedaemontothenextwithdazzlingblade.Hisnaturallysuperbacrobaticability,aidedbythesuspensorunitswithinhisflipbelt,allowedhimtousethefallingcorpsesandtheswayingtreetrunkstotumble and jump to his next foe and the next, never once setting foot on theputridearth.AndinhiswaketheMidnightSorrowprancedandwhirledadeadlydance,bothcarefreeandlethalasonlyHarlequinscanbe.

Yvraine felt aweight tuggingonhermind,moredistracting than anyphysicalencumbrance.Itcamefromtheobjectatherwaist,theprizeforwhichshehaddaredthislethalrealm.Thoughkeptwithinapsychicallyshieldedcontainer,theHandofDarknesshadflaredintounnaturalvitalitythemomenttheYnnarihadpassed the castle ofMortarion and back into the nakedRealm of Chaos. Shecould feel it flexing talon-fingers, trying to grasp her thoughts, to claw at herheart.‘Ignore it,’ said the Visarch, the words delivered between perfunctory buteffective stabs of his blade. The grace of his earlier blows had been replacedwithcoldprecision.Yvraineswayedtoavoidarusteddaemonbladebeforeshereplied.‘Youcanfeelittoo?’Herarmwhippedout,thepointsofherwarfanstrikingtheeyesof thedaemon toblind it, a heartbeat before the cronesword inherotherhandparteditsgutandspine.‘It’slikebeetlescrawlingthroughmysoul.’‘We’llbewellridofit.’Forseveralmomentstheyfoughtbacktoback,creatinga mound of dissipating offal and festering daemon flesh around them. ‘LetGuillimanlistentoitscreakingwhispers.’

Amomentofrespiteandreflection.Thefuryofthedaemonicassaultabated,outmatchedbytheferocityandskilloftheYnnari.Foreachaeldarithatfell,theirspiritbolsteredtheothers,theirdeath-

cryscatteringacrosstheWhispertofueltheblowsofYvraineandtheVisarch,steeling the courage of their followers. The unnatural energies of Nurgle’sgarden retreated and regrouped, leaving Yvraine and her small host with anopportunity to make haste for the portal. The kabalites, incubi, wyches andHarlequinsformedupabout theemissaryofYnneadandthegroupsetoff intothenow-dormantforest,swiftbutwary.Lank leaves dragged over helms and shoulders, leavingmucus trails on theirarmour.Though thegroundno longerbuckedand tripped,underfootwasslickwith moss-covered rocks, threatening to trip at a careless step. The darknesslifted for a time, the cloud-swarms of the bloatflies dispersed by a surge ofYnnead’sprotectivepower,butonlytorevealadismal,waterypairofsunslikerheumyeyesglaringdownatthedepartinggroup.Aheadofthem,coilsofChaoticpowerflowedoncemore,nolongercontenttopursue thembutcoalescingbetweenthefleeingaeldariandtheirgoal.Tricklesoffilthywateroozedupbetweenthescatteredrocksandavapourseepedfromknotholesandcrevasses,bringingwithitthestenchofrottingvegetationandtheslitherofgrotesquemillipedesandothercarrioneaters.From the branchesAlorynis droppeddownnext toYvraine, claws thickwithpungentgore,azure-furred faceandsilverwhiskersmattedwithdaemonblood.Shimmers of contentment pulsed from the gyrinx, soothingYvraine’s troubledthoughts.Unfortunately,thegyrinx’sempathiclinkwaswithheralone,leavingtheVisarchpreytoaswellingconcern.‘WhatifMelinielhasnotheldtheotherendofthevortex?’‘The battlewas all butwonwhenwe departed,’Yvraine replied, her gown adiaphanouscloudbehindherasshespedbetweenthetwistedbolesonthetipsofher toes. ‘There is none among us better at leading a host. I summoned theYncarne to aidhimand there are few foes eithermortal or daemonic that canfaceYnnead’s corporeal avatar. It is not like you to give credence to baselessfears.’‘Perhapsitisthisplace,’thewarriorreplied.‘No, it is something more. Something else that is giving you doubts. Youcannotmaskitfromme.’‘Arewesetontherightcourse?’‘Theportalliesdirectlyahead.’‘Notthat,inthewidersense.’Heduckedbeneathalowbranch,thecrestofhishelmtearingthroughlong,yellowingleaves.‘Whatisthepoint?Arewetorunhitherand thitherat thebeckandcallofEldradand thehumans?Whatof the

missiontobringforthYnnead?’‘In time itwill come,’ saidYvraine, but hiswords struck a chord.When theWhisperingGodhadfirstlaidhisspirituponher,shehadbeenfilledwithsuchzeal and purpose it had been like a cold burning.Much time had passed andthough she and theReborn had swelled in number, and achievedmuch in thefightagainsttheDarkPowers,shewasnoclosertounitingthecroneswordsthanwhentheGreatRifthadsunderedthegalaxyandallhadbeenupontheprecipiceofruin.‘Theremust be someway to fight back,’ theVisarch continued, sensing herconflicted thoughts. ‘Not simply to respond and defend, but to strike at ourenemies.’‘Perhapswe have gathered themeans to do just that,’ she said,meaning theHandofDarknessatherbelt.‘Butyouarehappytoturnitovertothehumans,agoodlittlehuntinghound.’Yvraineskiddedtoastop,herbladeinherhandinaflash,itsedgeagainsttheside of theVisarch’s helm as he halted.His swordwas also free, point aimedtowardshermidriffwithunthinking,instantresponse.‘Iamnoother’sslave,’hissedtheOpeneroftheSeventhWay.‘Youwoulddowelltochooseyourwordsmorecarefully.’‘IspeakasIsee,’saidtheVisarch.‘WhenlastdidYvraineoftheYnnaridoherownbidding?’She saidnothingand the twoof themstoodwith legendary swordspoised toendoneanother.Thesoulboundgatheredabout them,unsurewhat todowhiletherestof theYnnaricastwaryglancesat thestirringforest,weaponsreadied.Harlequinscircledbeneaththecanopy,callingoutintheirliltingvoices,warningthatthetreeswerewakingagain.‘Wearenotdone,’snappedYvraine,loweringherblade,themovematchedbytheVisarch.Withasurgeofcorruptpower, theGardenburst intofruitfuldestructiononcemore.Afreshheaveofplaguebearersbroke free fromthemiasmaofpollutingenergy,creatingbodiesoutofthemudandleaves,dragginghalf-formedphysicalvessels from bubbling pits of tar, creakingmisshapen heads, limbs and torsosfrom lichen-dotted tree trunks. The resurgent stench was terrible, the freshlydescendingfliesagainanever-presentbuzzingdistraction.Yvrainefocused,drawingalinebetweenherselfandthediminishingportal.Allthatmatteredwasfollowingthatline.Nothingelse.Grittingherteeth,sheranon.

CHAPTER2

OFIYANNAARIENAL

Iyannalikedtowalkamongthedead.Perhaps ‘liked’ is not the correct term. She was drawn to the deceased. Herpeersbowedtheirheadsandmurmuredthatherwholefamilyhaddied,soitwasunderstandable.Notjustherfamily,theentireHouseofArienalhadbeenwipedfromexistencebyatorpedodispatchedbyahumanrenegade.Notjusttheliving,but thedeadalso, their spirits lostamong theconflagration thathadconsumedthehomesoftheirdescendants.Butevenbefore,Iyannahadbeenaspiritseerforhalfalifetime;anecromancer,thekinofCommorraghwouldlesscharitablyphraseit.Onethatcommunicateswith thedead.Anoblecalling, ifa littlemorbid,andapathuponwhichmanyfolkofthecraftworldshadtroddenbeforeandsince.Afterall,whenone’sentirehomeis poweredbythespiritsofthedead,itisbesttohavesomeoneclosethatiswillingtospeakwiththem.Iyannastayedaspiritseerfor justa little toolong,andspenta little toomuchtimeconversingwith the shadesof those-that-came-before.Shebecamecoldertothosewhoseheartsstillbeat,inuredtothepassionsoftheliving,sohercriticsclaimed.FortunatelyforIyanna,heraloofnaturemeantshedidnotcareforhercritics,andevenlessfortheiropinions.AstheremarkableYvraineduelledforherlifeagainstthehostsoftheFatherofRot,Iyannawastobefoundinanentirelydifferentplace,towhichherthoughtswould often stray. She walked an avenue of white stone, lined by goldenpinnaclesthatstretcheduptoaskyofpaleyellow,litbyadistantorb–notasunorastar,butaburningmoon.Inthedanceofflamesacrossitssurfacecouldbe

seenascowlingface,oratmomentsanexpressionofperversedelight.Itsgleamwasnear-constant,onlytheslightestflickerofshadowmovedonthepalestreetbelow.Each illuminated building she passed was a tomb, a mausoleum of templeproportions,anedificeerectedtorivalthoseofthedeadgods.Treeswithsilverybarkandwhiteneedleslinedthepebbledgardensbeforeeachtombhouse.Theirup-stretchedboughs implored theskies, theweepofgoldensapfromknotandcrackbrighthighlightsofcolourinthemonochrome.White. The colour of death. The absence and the everything. The bloodlessfleshofacorpseandthewhiteflareofadyingstar.Iyanna was also clad in white, a single sash of diaphanous material wovenaboutherlimbsandtorsomanytimes,gentlyundulatingandflowingwitheachstep.Herhairwasbraidedtight,aswhiteashersurrounds,andtheskinbeneathher attiremarble-like.At her breast pulsed a single beacon of life and colour.Theslowthrobofherwaystone,aheartbeatoforangeanddeeperred.Astatueofeachinterneestoodontherune-engravedflagsoutsidetherowsofpillared porticoes. They waited in poses of exclamation, lament orcontemplation.She passed Hariya, her mother. Short-haired, clad in a sleeveless dress,crouchedwithaprotectivearmoveraninfant.Herfacewasupturned,featuressetingrimdefianceofwhateverthreatapproached.Asingletearrolleddownhercheek.Hariya’stomb-cathedralwasadornedwithrosesandstars,awhiteflameburnedfromtheneedlethatrosefromamongthemanysteeplypitchedroofs.On theopposite sideof the avenue,past the rowofgrey-leavedwhispertreesthatranthelengthofthecourse,stoodherfather,Arctai.Hewas,atfirstglance,the very image of strength, dressed in an approximation of surcoat and scalearmour. His marble incarnation stood with legs shoulder-width apart, fists onhips, chest and shoulders strong and straight. Yet there was weakness there.Unlike hermother, Iyanna’s sire had his face cast down, looking to one side,shamewritteninhisfeatures.Iyannapacedonwardintotheshadowofthenextgrave-temple,skinpricklingatthemomentarychill.She lookedup to theplinthsetbefore themodest tombhouse, into thecarvedeyesofheryoungersister.Saisath,whomIyannahadcalled‘LittleMe’,barelyanadolescent.Herstatuelaughed,headtiltedback,eyesclosed,totallyunawareofwhatwashappeningaroundher.Iyannapausedandlaidahanduponthebarefootofthefigure.

‘Hello,LittleMe.Alwayshappy.’ThesilencethatswallowedthewordstightenedaroundIyanna’sheart,atalonedgrip thatcausedher towinceandretreatfromtheplinth.Shelookeddownthelong road – unending it seemed – and the quiet pressed in on her thoughts,quashingallelse.Afigureappearedinthedistance,quicklyapproaching.Agleamofredresolvedinto a ripple of flames that encased his person, orange and yellow flickerssketchedafacebelowamaneofdarkerfire.Iyanna.Whyhaveyoucomehereagain?Youmustleave.

Iyanna blinked, and at the samemoment broke her affinitywith the circuit ofIyanden. The tomb towers and endless street dissolved into the broken stonewalls and ruined gardens of the Dome of Accentuated Night. Blue-purpletwilightdarkenedhervision,replacingtheduskyglowoftheburningmoon.Inthedimlight–artificiallygeneratedbythecraftworlditself–theruinedretreatsand hermitages of the dome seemed like scattered stars across undulatingblankets of hills, their slopes littered with acid-burned trunks and toppledmonuments.Shewasnolongerdressedinhermourninggarb,butinthedeepyellowrobeofaseerofIyanden.Hercraftworld’srunewasoneamongmanyembroideredintotheheavyclothandhunguponhertorqs,beltandbracelets.Thephysicalweightof her own body was disconcerting, heavy and ungainly after her spiritimmersion in the psychic network. A couple of heartbeats passed before thefeelingdissipatedandhermindsettledfullyintoitsmortalconveyance.AlthenianArmourlost stepped closer, his immense shadow falling across thespiritseer.Thewraithlord’sspiritwasencasedinashellofwraithbonethriceastallasshe,ahumanoidframeofdeepyellow,detailedwiththesameyellowasherrobe.Hisblankdomedheadandslenderlimbsweredecoratedwiththerunesofadestroyedwarriorshrine–theFire’sHeart–aswasthelongcloththathungfromhiswaist.Thewraithlordheldoutahand,articulatedpsychoplasticdigitslargeenoughtoengulf thespiritseer’shead.Themovementwasaccompaniedbyaslightcreakof flexing artificial tendons, like a branch bending in a gentle wind. Thefeatureless,elongatedheadtiltedslightly,itspolishedsurfacecatchingthefaintgleamofthefalsedusk.‘Whydidyoudisturbme,Khaine-touched?’Iyannagrowled.

To the spiritsenses of Althenian there was not much difference between her

projection into theghostmatrixof thecraftworldandherphysical incarnation.Shewasanever-changingmelangeofgreyandbluehues,amelancholyshadewithflecksofevendarker,colderbitterness.Attheheart,though,wasstillwarmth.Forallthatherthoughtswerewrappedindeath,hermanneraloofanddismissive, therewascompassionstill.The icearounditservedasprotection,nothingmore.Returnedtoherbody,Iyanna’sformasserteditselfalittlemore,approximatingarmsandlegsinthewraithlord’svision,andinherhandthebrightwhitelineofher spear. Its brightness was oddly vague, as though it originated from someplaceslightlybeyondthephysicalobjectitrepresented.He replied through sonic vocalisers, but to the mind of the spiritseerAlthenian’s thoughts and intent also echoed into her consciousness, carryingwiththemstrangeafter-imagesofeddyingcolourandcreepingfire.‘Aharshname.EvenifIdeserveit,itwoundsme,’saidthewraithlord.‘But it is true. You are a bloody-handed killer, worshipper of Khaine. Youshouldnotbe.Your spirit should reside in a suit of exarch armour,with thosethatcamebeforeandafter.’‘Itwasyouwhocalledme forth frommyshrine.Onlyyoucould.Youdaredmuch,totravelsodeepandfar,intoblood.Desperate,youwalkedwithKhaine’sacolytes,hisexarchs.Yourownblood,offeredinfreesacrifice,boundmethus.Bloody-handed,nowresidinginthisform,forever.’AcrossAlthenian’sshoulderhis brightlance lowered on its mounting, though he was careful to point thepowerfullaserweaponatnothinginparticular.‘Iaskednot.Youcursedusbothinfolly,ourfateshared.’‘AmistakeIwillnotrepeat.’‘Perhapsthen,abettertitleforme.UniqueOne?’‘Youseeminoddlygoodhumour.Idonotappreciateit.’‘Asyoumay,itisnotmymoodawry,itisyours.Youdeparted,leftmeforyourdeceasedkin,distracted,’saidthewraithlord.‘Youbroughtmetolocateaspiritstone,stillunfound.’

ThememoryseepedbackintoIyanna’sthoughts,forgottenduringherforayintotheAvenueoftheDead.Itwasaplaintivesighontheedgeofhearing,analmostsilentshudderoflonelinessandlonging.Sheshiveredatthethoughtofthetimethat had passed. Though the spiritwithinwould be only dimly aware of suchtemporal concerns, and to a living aeldari the intervening period between theinvasion of the tyranids and this discovery was barely one twentieth of a

lifetime,itwasstillaneternitytobetrappedwithoutbodyintheunfeelingshellofaspiritstone.Thehalf-heardpsychicmoancontinuedstill.Sodistant,soquiet,so…alone.Itwasnowondertheothershadmissedit.Butnot Iyanna.Thepsychic sobof the lost spirithadpermeatedherdreams,nagged her waking thoughts until she had recognised it for what it was. Thesensationwassharper,nowthatshehadlocatedthedomewheretheoverlookedstonewouldbefound.Sheheldupherspear,theheirloomofTeuthlas,thoughshebrandisheditasadivining rod and not a weapon. The spiritseer let a portion of her psychicpotentialflowintothecrystalstructureatitscore.Shefocusedonthewhisperingdreadof theforlornspirit.Thetriangularheadof thespearglowedwithablueaura and emitted a low hum as it resonated with the unworldly connectionbetweenseerandspirit.Iyanna took a step and moved the Spear of Teuthlas gently back and forth,panning it across the landscapeofgentlehills anddesolation.The tipdimmedandbrightenedasshedidso,guidinghertowardsthelostpsychicgem.‘Thisway,’Iyannaannounced,levellingthespeartopointtowardsthetumbledruinsclosetotheheartofthedome.Shesetoffacrossdyinggrass,thewraithlordfollowingwithlongstrides.Sincethe destruction wrought by the Great Devourer, the resources of Iyanden hadbeen directed towards those parts still habitable. Places like the Dome ofAccentuatedNight–initsprimeonlyeverhometoafewhundredaesthetesandantisocialphilosophers–hadonlyrecentlybeenscouredofspore-pollutionandthepsychicresidueofthetyranidhivemind.They walked along a meandering river, little more than a trickle acrosssmoothedstonesbetweenbanksthirtystridesapart.Thetrailtheyfollowedwasmarked in places by standing stones as tall asAlthenian.Theywere raised indifferentstonesandpsycho plastics,varyingfromslendermonolithsandneedlestotrilithonsandelegantlycurvedtotems.Eachwasmarkedwith runes, thenameof anAsuryani thathadonce residedthere.Thoughtheinhabitantshadeschewedcontact,brokenalmostentirelyfromthe network of the infinity circuit, their stones had acted as conduits throughwhichmessagescouldbeleftandtheirdesiresmadeknowntothewiderworldwithoutdirectinteraction.Akindofpsychicgo-betweenfortheantisocial.The hermits and philosophers were all dead now, but their waymarkersremained.Iyannacouldfeelthequietechoesoftheirterrified,dyingthoughtsastheGreatDevourer’sbio-constructshadspiltthroughthedome,slaughteringand

digesting those whose isolation had meant they had not felt or perhaps hadignored all of thewarningsof invasion.The stonesweremorbid reminders ofthosethathadbeenlost,acoldnessthatpressedonIyanna’sthoughtseachtimeshepassedone.

Ittookthemsometimetotraversethecarefullyformedbutpartiallydevastatedwilderness. As they mounted a hill to come upon the toppled building theysought, the lost spirit sensed their approach. The strengthening contactbrightened the tip of Iyanna’s spearwhile awarmth of familiarity seeped intoher.Shecouldnothelpbut feel the reliefof the forlornaeldari soul, itspitifulsurgeofanticipation filling thevoid leftbyhergrief.Shemomentarilyskirtedthe infinity circuit with her thoughts, anchoring herself in its rune-protectedchannels while she allowed her mind to project further ahead, honing theconnectiontoapoint.Guidedbythis,sheledAltheniandownawindingtrailthathadoncebeenlinedwithgloriousscarlet-barkedphoenix-branch.Theancienttreeshadbeenreducedtostumpsandcankeredrootsbytheburrowingmitesandbacterialplagueofthetyranidonslaught.Thoughallhadbeenpurgedofthephysicaltaint,thelingeringpallofdeathhungoverthem,cloudingIyanna’ssensesandthoughts.Theycameuponasmalldome-ceilingabode,ashrinestonemarkedwithrunesofAsuryan and Lileath fallen across the pathway in front of it. The roof hadpartlycollapsed, leavingfourpillarsstandingat thecorners,apileofshatteredrubblewithin.‘Here,’ said Iyanna, the soul-burning in her thoughts as distinct as the hotpresenceofthewraithlordbesideher.‘Inhere.’Thewraithlordsteppedforwardandstoopedtopickupapieceofstoneaslargeas the spiritseer. Articulated fingers as deft as any living digits yet morepowerfulthanametalworker’sviceclosedonthebrokenedgesand,poweredbyhispuissantspirit,thegiganticconstructeasilyliftedawaythedebris.‘Threehundredandonebattles,ahero…’hesaid.‘Orperhaps,countingthreehundredandtwo,withthelast.’Heturnedslightlytograbanotherslab,revealingacid-scarredwraithboneonhisback.‘Now,hereIam,employedasalabourer.Whatglory.’‘Yourstrengthcanbeputtoothertasksthancrushingalienskulls,’Iyannasaid.‘Bethankfulyouhaveauseatall.’‘Warsremain,sotoothosethatmustfightthem,suchasme,’Althenianreplied,his projected vision-thoughts becoming a shadow of storm clouds in the

spiritseer’sothersight.‘Evenmore,nowthatYnneadhasbeenstirred.’‘Do not confuse theGod of theDeadwith yourmaster, theGod ofMurder.Ynneadisoursalvation,notacurse.’‘Spoken well, the lips of Yvraine herself, given voice,’ said Althenian. Hepulled away the last piece of rubble, revealing an emerald gleam in the dustbelow.Aspiritstone,oval,ofasizetositcomfortablyinthepalm.Iyannahurriedforward,pluckingthestonefromthefloor.Aflareofheatandjoy flashed into her thoughts. She stroked the spirit stone, proffering empathyandsanctuarywithhermind.‘For one that chose in life to eschew the companyof others,’ she said to thestone,‘youseemgratefulforthepresenceofyourfellowaeldariindeath.’‘A stark truth, something youmust think about, Iyanna,’ Althenian told her,straightening.‘Knowyourself.Thecompanyofthedeadistoomuch.Unhealthy,whenoneisstillcountedamongtheliving.’‘DonotconfusemydedicationtotheraisingofYnneadasadesirefordeath.Myfamilyaregone,nomatterifYnneaddestroystheGreatEnemy.ItisforthesakeofthelivingthatIfight.’Sheslippedthespiritstoneintoapouchatherbeltandstalkedaway.

CHAPTER3

BATTLEINEINERASH

AttheotherendofthegutteringvortexcreatedbyYvrainelaythelong-deadcityofEinerash.At theheightof theaeldari’spowerEinerashhadbeena teemingmetropolis,hometomillionsandacentreofcultureandlearning.Likeallofthatancientcivilisation,itwaslaidlowbythecomingoftheGreatEnemy.Itsonlysavinggracewasthearchivesofitselders,theprimaryreasonwhythecreatorsofthefabledBlackLibraryhaddraggedthebulkofthecityintothewebwayatthepointof itsdemise, to act asoneof thehiddenportals to theirburgeoningcreation.ThattheforcedtransitionintothewebwayslewanysurvivorsoftheFallwasfelttobeasadbutnecessaryconsequence.ThatrouteintotheBlackLibrary–knownbythefewawareofitsexistenceastheEndlessStair–wasthereasonYvraine’sportalhadbeenopenedthere,andalsowhythecitywasyetwrackedbyintensebattle.Ahostofdaemonshadbeenconjured by sorcerers aligned to the renegadeAhzekAhriman,who had longdesiredaccesstothecrucibleofallaeldariknowledgeofChaos.Ahrimanhimselfwasno longerpresent,nor thosewarriorsofhisoldLegionafflictedwiththecurseoftheirkind.Forthoseunawareofsuchacurse,inabidtoreverseterriblemutationsinflicteduponhisThousandSonsbytheirrecklessdabblinginthewaysoftheArchitectofChange,theineffableTzeentch,LordofMagic,Ahriman inadvertently turnedhisbattle-brothers todustencasedwithinrune-sealed armour. An unfortunate series of events, to be sure, but notundeservedwhenonetriestoharnessthedarkenergiesofChaos.Ahrimanhadpresumablydecidedat themomentanothersizableYnnari forcehad arrived that his destiny was better fulfilled elsewhere. A reasonable

assumption, for he had suffered terribly at the untimely intervention of theYnnari in a previous attempt to breach the Black Library. Battle had ensued,duringwhichagreatmanyoftheThousandSonshadbeentouchedbyYvraine’spowersofRebirthandgrownafreshwithintheirpoweredsuits.Thisunexpectedreturntomortalformhadendedabruptlywhentheresurrectedhadbeencastintothedepthsofthewarptobedevouredbydaemons.Yet he had left many of his servants to continue the battle, bothmortal anddaemonic, no doubt in an effort to further weaken the defences of the BlackLibraryforsomefutureassault.TheYnnarihadgainedtheupperhand,drivingbackthesorcerouscliqueattheheart of the Tzeentchian host even as they had attempted to open a portal tosummon more daemonic fiends. With an artefact recovered from the BlackLibrary – the fancifully titled Rose of Isha – Yvraine had turned the portalagainst its pervertedmasters andbreached thebarrier betweenworlds into theGarden of Nurgle. About this vortex the Ynnari still held firm, fighting onthoughtheyknewnotwhethertheOpeneroftheSeventhWayhadsucceededorfailed,livedordied.The withdrawal of the Rubric-afflicted was a stroke of good fortune for theYnnari,robbingthefoeoftheirterribleweaponsandrelentlesspurpose.Ofthosethat remained, thegreaterpartof thosealigned to theCorruptingPowerswerehumans,orhadonceclaimedassuch,thoughlongexposuretothewarpandthesorceries of their allies and daemonic masters had turned them into bizarrecreatures. Many wore the colourful robes of acolytes, masks festooned withrunicdeviceswithelongatedchinsandnoses,andgem-seteyesthatglitteredinthetrailsofmagicaldischargefromtheswirlingenergiesofthewebway.Theycarried serrated knives and crude las-weapons, or ornate staves tipped withscythingbladesshapedintheflame-likedeviceoftheMagisterialPower.Withthemwereevenmoredeformedcreatures,morebeastthanman,withbirdvisages, and feathers sprouting from body and limb. These Tzeentch-touchedhalf-beastswere fast and strongbeyond their tall, lean frames, screeching andhootingarchaiccriesandtheincantationsofdebilitatinghexes.And daemons. Daemons by the hundreds, of every shape and size andmaddeningappearance,forTzeentchisthegodoftheever-changingandnothingbeneath his sight remains stable. Cavorting fire-bound Horrors and leapingFlamers gabbled and cackled and spewed multicoloured inferno from gapingmawandquiveringfingers.Intheskiesabove,thingsbornofdrakeandvultureandinsanitywhirledonwingsofbluefirethroughember-clouds,violetlightning

cracking about their fanged maws. The ground itself rippled with mutatingpower, the infrastructureof thewebwaycorruptedby thepresenceof somuchdaemonic energy, became towering spiral-thrusts and edifices of gibberingmouthsthatspatpraisetotheLordofFate.AgainstthishordeoftheimmaterialandthecursedwasrangedtheremainingforceofYvraine’sfollowers.Andwhataforcetobehold!Against theflatblacknessof theeternalnighta trioofwarshipsshonebright,their weapons raining down the fury of tamed stars and brilliant laser. In theglitter and flare of their attack gleamed the wings of swooping hawks andcrimson-hulledfighters,aboutwhichspiralled thesavagebarquesandravagersofYvraine’sCommorragh-bornallies.Throughpaleruinofpillarandwall,acrossthebrokenarcofbridgesandintheshadow of fallen towers, the red-armoured host of Ynnead clashed with thekaleidoscopic daemons of Tzeentch. Bright splashed the mutating fire fromHorrorsbornofthedementedArchitectofFate.Burningroundsfromthecrudebolters of the Thousand Sons sorcerers cut the cold air to leave scintillatingtrails.The flashof scatter laser, theslashofbrightlancesset shadowsdancing,joinedbysupernaturalburstsandcruelsacrificialbladestohastenmanyspiritstotheembraceoftheirgod,whetherChaosPowerorlordoftheaeldaridead.

InNurgle’sGarden,thediminishingglowoftheportalwasnotfaraheadwhentherecamealouddroningfrombehindtheswiftlymovingaeldari.Slashingtheheadfromaplaguebearer,theVisarchlookedoverhisshoulder.Fliesasbigasjetbikesbuzzedbetweenthetrees,thebranchesrisingtoletthempass.Uponthebackofeachrodeaplaguebearer,pestilentswordsgleamingwiththeirownfoulpower.Behindthemappearedalivingtideofnurglings–eachnolarger than a fist, but numbered in the tens of thousands they would sweepthroughtheforestsandcleanseallsignoftheaeldariintrusion.Withthemcamemoreofthetallymen,theirmonotonouschantingawallofbrain-numbingsound.Larger creatures moaned in the shadows, crushing trees, plaguebearers andnurglingsastheyheavedtheirbulky,slug-likebodiesafterthefleeingaeldari.‘Givenoheed toslaying,defendyourselvesand run!’Yvrainecalled,wavingherfollowersforwardwithherwar-fan.TheYnnariunconsciouslyreformed, letting theHarlequinsrunaheadtoseizethe portal’s environs. Former kabalites turned and unleashed their splinterweapons, slashingdown the incoming fly-riderswith sharpvolleysof fire.As

thefastestoftheplaguedronesreachedthem,theVisarchsignalledhiswarriorsforwards,meeting thedaemons’ chargewith their ownassault.AplagueswordsweptoutandtheVisarchducked,a trailofrustparticlessettlingonthefurofhiscloak.Heslashedhisownbladeupwardsashedodgedbetweenthelegsofthe rot fly, severing thorax from abdomen. In a spume of ichor the creaturetumbledintothedirt,spillingitsriderintothewaitingklaiveofanincubi.InshortmomentstheCoiledBladehadcutdowntheirattackers,thoughtwooftheirnumberlayamidst theruinofplaguebearerandfly,brightsplashesinthegloom.Behind,Yvraineandthe othershadwastednotimeincapitalisingontheVisarch’srearguard,andmanywereoutofsight,lostinthefogandshadowsofthetrees,dimsilhouettesagainstthefadinglightoftheopenportal.TheVisarchknewYvrainewouldnotwaitforthem.He knew equally that she should not – her mission, her calling was moreimportantthanthelivesofherfollowers.Evenso,ashesetoffinarunafterthefiguresofhiscompanionsdisappearingtowards the rapidly shrinking vortex, he wished she would show just a littlegratitude.

TheYnnarihost thatbattled inEinerashwasably ledbyanotherofourmajorplayers.Beforethehalf-wakeningofYnnead,MelinielhadtroduponthePathofCommand,renownedasanautarchofthebellicosecraftworldBiel-tan.Asfateandpoorfortunecombined,Biel-tansufferedterriblyduringthecataclysmsandconvulsionsthatcreatedtheGreatRift.Meliniel,touchedbythespiritofYnneadandinspiredbytheworksofYvraine–eventuallytiedhisdestinytothatoftheYnnari.Thoughhehadforsakenthetraditionalpath,Melinielstillworethearmourofanautarch, thegreenandwhiteofhisnativecraftworldreplacedby theredofYnnead, the runeofhisnewpatronblazoned inblackuponhishighhelm.Hehad brought from his craftworld an heirloom of his House, a spear of somerepute called theAhz-ashir, which in the dialect of theBiel-tanimeans ‘the -strikingbolt’.Hewas,attheverymomentYvraineandhercohortnearedthewarpsideoftheportal, putting the spear to good use against a coven of the Tzeentchiansorcerers’ cultists. The tip ofAhz-ashir blazedwith lightning as it pierced therobes and armour of his foes. In the half-warp of the contestedwebway, theirescapingpsychicmattermanifestedas shriekingwraiths that twistedabout thebladeoftheirkillerforseveralheartbeatsbeforedissipatinglikefoginthewind.

Theclatteroffallingarmourandflutterofemptygarbaccompaniedtheadvanceoftheautarchandhisclosecompanions.

Of theseYnnariwarriors, thoughexarchsanddracons, succubusof thedeadlyCrucibael of Commorragh and warlocks of half a dozen craftworlds,accomplished fighters all, perhaps one other is worthy of remark. Azkahr,Meliniel’ssubordinateandaformerdraconoftheKabaloftheBlackHeart.Hisnewallegiancewaswornonlyasascarletsashacross theblackanddeepbluearmourhehadwornforalifetime.Hiswhip-likeagonisersparkedandsnarledasthoughaserpentinhisgrasp,entanglingthelimbsoftheTzeentchiandevoted,sendingboltsofenergycoursingthrougharmourandbone.‘She isdead,’Azkahr said, coiling theagoniser around theneckof aRubric-cursed legionnaire. He ripped the helm free and with it came the screamingapparitionoftheformerSpaceMarine’ssoul.Gibbering,thewraiththrewitselfathisfaceinonelastattemptatvengeancebeforeitbecameavanishingmist.‘She liveson,’ insistedMeliniel.His spearbrought theend toanotherpairofenemies,thetrailofitsheadlitbyforksoflightning,henceitsname.‘Iamsureofit.Theportalwouldfailwithouther.’‘Entirely sure?’Azkahr ducked as a towering legionnaire fired its bolter, theblazingshellspassinghisshoulderashelashedtheagoniseraroundtheweapon,severing thewristof thehand thatheld it. ‘Thepowercamefrom theRoseofIsha.’‘IthinktheYncarnewouldknowifshefell,’counteredtheautarch.His gaze moved to the whirling incarnation of Ynnead, avatar of theWhisperingGod. It roamedatwill through thedaemonic ranks rangedagainsttheYnnari,asmuchthestuffoftheimmateriumasthey.Bands of azure power wreathed the ghostly figure as it floated above theexpandingmelee,itsuncertainfleshblazingatthestrikeofcoruscatingfireandwarp-poweredblast.A silver gleam in its handwas the third of the recoveredcroneswords – Vilith-zhar, the Sword of Souls. Against the immortallysummoned, themystically shiftingweapon had assumed the shape of a broadtulwar,andwithslashingstrokestheYncarnehewedleftandrightwithabandon.Each daemon touched by the enchanted blade exploded into fountains ofprismaticsparks,itsessencescatteredtothewarpwinds.‘It could be vengeful…’ ventured Azkahr, though his confidence waned. Herallied,determinednottolethisoriginalpointbemissed.‘Doyouthinkitrightthat we expend aeldari lives on the whim of the human champion? It is the

errandofGuillimanthatbringsushere,nobusinessoftheYnnari.’Melinieldidnot replyat first.Above, startlingshrieksheralded theswoopingattacks of Tzeentchian Screamers accompanied by Heralds of the Master ofMagicridinguponbarbed-edgeddiscs.Thekeeningoftheirdescentwaslikeatalon thrummingon thenervesof those thatheard it,disconcertinglyalienandyethauntingly familiar.Sorcerousgreen andmauve fire lickeddown,divertedonlyatthelastmomentbythecounter-spellsofthewarlocks.Theirrunearmourburningwithblackfire,theaeldaribattle-psykersthrewbacksingingspearsandconjuredstormsofcracklingenergytomeettheonrushingfoe.Meliniel issued a command and within a heartbeat laser fire and hails ofshuriken sprangup in response aswave serpents and falcongrav-tanks turnedtheirturretweaponsskywards.‘Theenemyofourenemy…’theautarchbegan.‘Is our enemy,’ cut in the former dracon. His sneer was audible even if hismaskedhelmconcealedthelipsthatformedit.‘Weshouldbeusingthehumansastheshieldtheywerecreatedtobe,notexpendingoureffortandlivesintheirdefence.’‘Ourfatescross,’repliedMeliniel.‘Ifnotforourquesthere,theBlackLibrarywouldbebesetbyAhriman’scohort.ThoughweseekthecroneswordsandserveYnnead,wemustrememberthatourfirstdutyistoopposetheDarkPowers.’Azkahrwasnotdisposedbynatureorexperiencetoarguethetriflesofloyaltytoothers.His rise to the rankofdraconhadbeen liberally lubricatedwith thebloodofmanyformerallies,a traithedidnot thinkworthdroppinginlightofhisdefectiontothecauseoftheYnnari.Evenso,hehadagreedtodefertothecommandofMelinielwithoutanyambitionofhisown,andgrittedhisteethtoholdbackfurtherretort.WhileMeliniel saw the unfolding battle as a great concert of effort, a grandstrategy unfolding in a series ofmovements, harmonies and discords, Azkahrviewed the bloodshed in more personal terms. The Tzeentchian cohort was abody,abeing,tobetakenapartinspecificandpainfulways.Itcouldbeendedswiftlyormade toendurea lingeringdemise.Onemerelyhad to focuson thecorrectorgans.Meliniel,truetohistemperamentandthecultureofthecraftworlds,wasgoingfor the heart. Having already sundered the sorcerers from their vortex, hepursuedthemwithvigourthroughtheruinsofEinerash.ThebulkoftheYnnarihad formed a rearguard of sorts, a collapsing defence that was constantlymoving,holdinginoneplacewhilefallingbackinanother,creatingseparation

betweenthegreatertideofdaemonsandthecompanyoftheautarch.Itwasasoundenoughplan,minimisingthecasualtiesoftheYnnaributatthecostofinflictinglittledamagealso.Itwaslikeafighterparryingconstantly,notonce looking for the counterstrike. Azkahr itched to deploy his ravagers andraiders, to launch a surprise offensive that would slash through the oncomingdaemons.Hewouldseveralimb,isolatingonepartofthebody,toconcentrateuponittotheexclusionofallelseuntilitwasdestroyed.‘Somethingstirsinthevortex,’warnedoneofthewarlocks,Faurasah.Theirattentiondrawntotheswirlingmawofpower,MelinielandAzkahrsawthechangethathadbeenwrought.Attheheartoftheroilingcloudcouldbeseensparks,likedistantsunsgrowinginbrightness.Almost immediately, the minions of Tzeentch changed their attacks, like acarrion flock that had been picking on a near-stripped corpse and nowdiscovered a new cadaver close by. The daemonic host had been fractured,drawn along different lines of attack, turned upon itself by the skillfulmanoeuvringof theaeldari, asadancer twists streamerson thewrist tocreateinterweavingpatterns in theair.Nowthedaemonspulledback,anebbingtide,creating a vacuum that threatened to suck in the squads and vehicles of theYnnari.Their intent became clear again when the reformed cohort thrust across thebridgesandalongthestreetsdirectlytowardsthevortex.Theairseethedwiththeconcentration of magical energies, distorting the fabric of reality. Claws ofintemporalpowerrakedatthesubstanceofthewebwayinfusingtheoldcity.‘They seek to swell their numbers,’ called Faurasah. His warning wasredundant, thesenseof impedingpowerburneduponeven thestuntedpsychicsenses ofAzkahr and the other drukhari. A discordant, unsettledmurmur andwhisperrustledthroughthehostoftheYnnari.Alulldraggedatthethoughtsofeveryone,foritwassimplyamomentarypeace,theeyeofthestorm,beforethefulltempestreturned.Thattempestcameintheshapeofsomethingvastandterribleandoldereventhanthegods.ThetwilightofEinerashburstintolifewithglitteringstarsofallcolours, a new galactic constellationwrit upon themembrane between realityand immaterial. The webway itself shuddered, the city vibrating beneath thecosmicforcesthatclashedaroundit.Withascreechofstone,atowertoppledinthemidst of the daemons, their bodies of flame andmagic turned towisps ofdissipating azure fume beneath the crushing blocks. Dust danced upon thebrokenwalls,formingsigilsthatburnedthesightandmindtolookupon.

Alleyesweredrawnabove,daemonandaeldarialike.Thestarfieldwavered,blinkinginandoutofinexistence.Witheachfluctuationtheconstellationgrewsharperinform.Fierydaemonsandcavortinghorrorsliftedupflame-wreathedlimbs,chatteringincreasing, overlapping cackles and chants rising in volume to create acacophonythatblanketedthemindaswellashearing.WithapsychicexhalationthatnumbedthethoughtsoftheYnnari,thestarsfell.Streaks of lightning crackled about the slowly descending orbs of power,painting the broken citywith strobing flashes of crimson and jade, violet andsunburst.Where they struck, symbols of change and mutation etched in blueflameupontheground.Thecounter-chantsofthewarlocksbecamehorrifiedshrieks.Wardstonesusedto safely channel the power of the warp shattered, spraying shards of spark-edgedcrystal.As the stars landed, they formed a shape, indistinct at first but growingwithclarityasmorepermeatedthewebway.Itflaredwithin,matchingthecontinuingspectacleofactinicpowerrainingdownfromthedarksky.Wingsofceruleanfeathershighlightedwithgreyfirespreadout,andfromtheirpulsingshadowgrewtalonedfeetandclawedhands,extrudedfromthegatheringpsychic mass like ore deposits forming under immense geological pressures.Unreality and reality compressed and in the fault between something entirelyunnaturalformedaphysicalshelltocontainitsessence.Avianandhorrifying.Elegantyet awkward.A ruby-eyedvulture’svisage. Itspresence sketched impossibilities on the senses, the bizarre sight accompaniedby the stenchof thwarted ambition and the perfumeof amother’s last breath.Hourglasseyesregardedtheaeldariwithinfinitepatience,lookingdeepintothesoulandfateofeverymortalpresent.ALordofChange,greaterdaemon,Arch-MagickerofTzeentchtheMutator.It threw out a clawed hand and a staff grew into its grip,made of solidifiedlightning, crownedwith a coiling serpentwhose undulating head and flickingtongueleftochreshadowsintheair.Thedaemon’spiercingcrymadeAzkahrtakeastepback,nervespainfullytaut,senses thrumming.Heheard a shrill outburst as though through the crash andhush of surf. Only when his vision cleared and he saw the gaze of hiscompanions fixeduponhimdid the formerdracon realise the shriekhadbeenhis.‘Alltroopsconvergeonthedaemon,’Melinielcommanded.Alwaysonetostate

theobvious,headded,‘Wecannotallowthedaemontoreachtheportal.WeholdatallcostsuntilYvrainereturns.’WithanunearthlywailtheYncarneroseabovetheYnnari.Soulstuffwhippedabout its shifting body, echoes of the dead that fed its manifestation, theirsorrowful dirge drowning out the resonating screech of the greater daemon.SpearthrusttowardstheLordofChangeinchallenge,theYncarnespedovertheembattledhosts.

The weeping oaks of Nurgle lashed their branches and knotted their roots,desperate in their clawing and agitation. Beneath their sputum-blossomedboughs, the glimmering web portal was little larger than a doorway, itsbrightnessintensifiedevenasitssizewasdiminished.Informitsboundaryhadgrownintoawreathofstemswithdagger-longthorns,thewhiterosebloomsofIsharingingtheentrance,theirgleamholdingbackthedismalumbraoftheLordofDecay.Through the woods slashed the Ynnari, Yvraine at their head. Nurglingsfollowedthemabove,spittinganddefecating,litteringthechurningmulchwiththeir noisomeness. They dropped down upon the heads and shoulders of thesprinting aeldari, tiny clawed hands and gnawing teeth scrabbling andscratching,brokenboilssmearingpusandbloodoverthearmourofthosetheyassailed.Whereittouchedfleshthisnoxiouscombinationburnedlikeacid,andin the weeping whorls cut upon the exposed skin of the wyches, tiny eggsblisteredintoexistence,thesquirmingpupaeofunbornmitesdarkincentresofeachmilkybauble.AlorynisstalkedthecanopyaboveYvraine,furcracklingwithpsychicstaticasit hunted. It leapt from branch to trunk, trunk to branch, claws rending theleatheryskinofthenurglings,teethsnappingonbrittledaemonbones.Whiskersandfurmattedwiththefilth,thegyrinxpausedoccasionallytolickcleanitspelt,immunetotheinfectionsofthePlagueGod.With the portal almost fully diminished, the Ynnari spent no effort but thatwhich theydirected towards reaching their shrinkinggoal.They ranwith lightsteps,manydroppingweaponsandsheddingarmourtospeedtheirpassage.At the rear, the heavily armouredCoiledBlade of theVisarch retreatedwithslowerandmoredeterminedpurpose.Assistedbythevolleysofnearbysquads,theylaunchedthemselvesintothepursuingdaemonsagainandagain,cuttingaswathethroughtheirfoestohurlthembackbeforegivinggroundoncemore.‘Werun,’theVisarchcommandedatlast,whenhesawthatYvrainewasbuta

scoreofstridesfromtheportal’smaw.And with that, the crimson-clad warriors turned as one and joined theircompanionsinrunningasfastaspossiblewithnothoughttothebayinghordeattheirback.

Yvraine, tohercredit, spared twoheartbeats to lookbehindasshe reached theboundaryof the fluctuatingwebgate.Foroneof thoseswiftpalpitations inherchest,sheconsideredholdingback, toassist theretreatofherfollowers.Inthenext, such concern was dismissed. Not only was the Hand of Darkness toovaluable a prize to be lost in an act of pointless sentiment, she herself as theOpeneroftheSeventhWayhadagranderdestinytofulfil.Having sensed the intent of his spirit-bondedmistress, Alorynis darted past,hissingawarningasathrongofnurglingstumbledfromshudderingboughsanderuptedfromthesoddenbowers.Yvrainefollowedthegyrinx into theswirlingenergies,Kha-virburningbrightinherhand.

Stillsomedistancebehind,theVisarchsawafewothersfollowtheEmissaryofYnneadintotheswirl.Withalastspasm,theportalcollapsedandadarkshroudofNurgleseepedbackthroughthelimbsandtrunkslikealivingthing,washingover the remaining aeldari. Coldness clad their bodies and permeated theirhearts,thegraspofwintersqueezingforthlastgaspsoflife’svitality.In the freezing fog booming laughter resounded, seeming to come from alldirectionsandnone.‘Thisisfine,’saidtheVisarch,thefurofhisarmour’smantlerimedheavy,hisbreathasteamingcloudaroundhim.

CHAPTER4

YVRAINERETURNED

Cominguponaragingbattlewhereshehadexpectedtofind,atworst,theforceofMelinielclearingthelastofAhriman’sminionsfromEinerash,itwasnofaultofYvrainethatshedidnotnoticetheportalbehindherimplode.She gazed in shock as theYncarne and aLord ofChange duelled above thetoppled buildings, a psychic storm roiling in theirwake as blade rang againststaff and shafts of cerulean andpurple energy coruscatedbetween the battlingimmortals. Beasts and beast-faced mutants and robe-clad acolytes pouredthrough the curving thoroughfares. Alongside them, gambolling and cacklingdaemonslikeknotsofiridescenceamongstthestreamsofblueandyellow.Disk-ridingmagistersandhalf-avianchampionsoftheLordofMagicsweptthroughthe skies above, exchanging mutating bolts with the lasblasts of SwoopingHawksandtheshriekingvolleysoffirefromravagersandvenoms,vypersandreaverjetbikes.Behindher,unseen,thevortexshrankbackintotheRoseofIsha,whichfelltothecrackedstonesat the feetofher followers thathadmade it through,petalsgraduallywilting.‘Yvraine!’With this single exclamation across themessenger-wavesMeliniel shared hisjoyandrelief–andnosmallamountofsurprise.LaterhewouldclaimhehadneveroncedoubtedtheOpeneroftheSeventhWaywouldreturnfromherquest.Hishappinessatherappearancewasquicklytempered.‘Sofew?’The question finally broughtYvraine’s attention to the lack of vortex.Dreadfroze her thoughts, for though she had been willing to leave behind hercompanions for the greater cause, she had hoped that the sacrifice would not

havebeenneeded.‘Here,mistress.’Oneofthewychesthathadaccompaniedherstoopedtopickupthedyingbloomupontheground.Confusioncreasedherbile-scarredfaceasshelifteduptheRoseofIsha.‘Itwasforme…’Yvrainequicklytooktheblossom.‘WhenIpassedthrough,thegatewayclosed.’Inthedyingflowerthereyetremainedsomesparkoflife,thebarestemberofitspowerremained.Yvraineletherspiritunfold,caressingthedecayingbloomwithherthoughts,imbuingitwiththeenergyofYnnead.‘Once, youwere sown by theGoddess ofLife,’ shewhispered to the failingrose.‘Anotherpowerneedsyounow.Fromdeath,life.’Likesmolderingcoalsstokedandputbeneaththebellows,thelastfragmentofIsha’spowerwaxedstrongundertheattentionofYvraine.Coldnessseepedintoherchestasshechannelledthepowerofthedead,butfromheritpassedintotheartefact.Itfeltlighterthanairandsheletgo,allowingittodriftfromherfingers.Herviewofthecitycoiledandrippled,asthoughreflectedinadisturbedpool.Brokentowersofwhiteandgreyshimmered,becomingthe immense trunksofmoss-cladtrees.Theportalshimmered,silverylightspillingforthasitoncemorebreachedtheRealmofChaos.Yvrainegaspedasthornytendrilsflailedfromthebloom,fixingaboutherarmsandthroat.ShethoughtitanassaultofNurgleatfirst,butattheirtouchshefeltnotthehungeringmawofdecaybutthelovingtouchofamother.Painfollowed,a thousandpinpricksacross fleshand soul.TheRoseof Isha turnedblood redandtheportalswelled,suppingonthelifeforceofYvraine.Sheresisted theurge to fight thevampiric leeching,herbreathshort, stabsofpain in her chest. The portal bucked and she extended her will, thrusting hermind into the pulsating aura, using rawwillpower to tear open the last fabricdividingrealities.Fog and stench burst through, engulfing her, choking and blinding. Shadowsstumbledthroughthemists;wychesvomitingandclawingatpox-markedskin.After them,camethebulkierarmouredsilhouettesofkabalitewarriors,flailingatthevapoursasthoughthefogassailedthem.Some time passed, thewait accompanied by the slowpulling of theRose ofIsha,evennowtherotinitsblossomstartedtospreadagain.Finally, the baroque form of the Visarch burst from the coiling umbra, theswordofscreamsslickedwithichor,hisarmourandhalf-cloakthickwithmucus

andblood.Hisincubifollowed,similarlydrenchedinfilth.‘Great Unclean One,’ muttered the Lord of Blades as he flicked a gobbet-crustedgauntlet.‘Don’task.’His gaze slid from Yvraine to the two immortal beings thrashing across thecityscape.‘Meliniel,canwenottrustyoutoevenholdabreachwithoutmakingmatterscomplicated?’theVisarchtauntedacrosshismessage-carrier.‘Are there anymore?’Yvraine asked, gritting her teeth against the bone-paincrawlingalongherlimbs.‘Areallrecovered?’TheVisarchsawherdistressandallhumourevaporated.‘Yes,mistress,wearethelast,’heassuredher.Withashudderingexhalation,theOpeneroftheSeventhWaytoreherselffromthe embrace of the rose tendrils. She staggered and fell, but the Visarch wasswift,duckingintothebillowofhercloakandgowntocatchher.Whipping like angered snakes, the thorn-vines latched onto the edges of thethrobbing portal, dragging it closedwith a final spasm of power. In its place,desiccatedpetalsandleavescircledonadyingbreeze.

ThereturnofYvrainesealedthefateofthebattle.Reunitedwiththeemissaryofits creator, the Yncarne swelled with the power of the dead. Channelling theescapingspiritsofdyingYnnari,theincarnationofYnneadsetupontheLordofChange with a haunting battle cry, cronesword in hand becoming a shortstabbing blade that thrust and gouged at the unnatural flesh of the Lord ofChange.Wreathed inmagic, the greater daemon spat gouts of fire and lashedclawsoflightningagainstitsattacker,screechingincantationsofitsotherworldlymaster.Butforall itssorcerouspower, itcouldnotmatchthereignitedfuryofYnnead’savatar,whichborethewingeddaemontotheground,swordpiercingsupernalarmourandfleshinaflurryofblows.With a triumphant bellow, the Yncarne seized the serpentine throat of thedaemon inonehandandplungedVilith-zhar into its ceruleanchest.Sparksofrawwarppowerfountainedfromthewound,astreamthatturnedintoacascadeasthedeadlycroneswordbitdeepagainandagain.TheYncarnecrouchedoverthe broken remains of the Lord of Change and sank ice fangs into its breast,suckingdeepatthegashuponitsempyrealform.DaemonplasmastreamedfromthemouthofYnnead’savatarasitsetbackitsheadandhowled.Likewisewhile thesoulboundandHarlequinswerenotgreat innumber, theiremergencefromtheportaladdedasuddenandirresistibleimpetustotheYnnari

attack.Daemonswereput topistolandbladewhile the livingwere leftcarvedaparton thepalestonesof theancientaeldari streets.Escapingdaemon-matterswirledincloudsthroughthebrokentowers,carryingthescreamsand panickedcriesoftheoutnumberedmortals.Freed from its duel, the Yncarne rampaged at will. Streamers of soulstuffpeeled away from its floating body,wrapping about theYnnari that advancedbeneath. Invigoratedby thedemigodlybeing, the followersofYvrainepressedonwithout a shred of fear, shrouded in protective energies. Splinter rifle andshuriken catapult tore robe and flesh among the oncoming horde, theirwhineand song sounding alongside the zip of laser and ghastly shriek of Harlequincannons.Renewedattacksfromthestarshipsabovecarvedswathesthroughtheretreatingmasses,cuttingoff the rout, leavingnone to flee into thewindingpathsof thewebwaynortear intotherawwarpwithspellsofrelocation.FromtheEndlessStair the white seers sallied forth, bringing with them weapons of arcanedestruction that turned daemonflesh to tatters and mortal bodies to scatteredparticles.‘Hihi,’laughedDreamspear,atthetipofthecounter-attack,hisneuro-disruptorannihilatingthemindsofhaplesscultistsandcroakingbird-beasts.‘Whatbitterspringwe bring to these foolish sons and daughters of change. Let them takeheart that theirmisery shall be short-lived, aswe rejoice inour own salvationfromthemurkydepths.’Behind the scintillating offensive of the Harlequins, the soulbound rejoinedwith their companions from the craftworlds that had been left to contestEinerash. Led by the Visarch and Yvraine, the warhost of the Ynnari sweptthroughtheremnantsofAhriman’sallies.TheslightestcutfromKha-virrobbedYvraine’s enemies of their souls to leave withered husks collapsing to dustaroundher.BesidehertheVisarchhewedwithoutcare,hisarmourdeflectingthefew clumsy attacks made by those that eluded his deadly attention for just amoment–survivorsthatwerenotgrantedasecondchanceaninstantlater.Theirfaces,human,bestialandavian,wrunginanguish,yetnotasoundissuedfromtheirthroats,theirvoicesstolenbythewitcheryofAsu-var.

Iyanna laidherhandupon thenakedcrystalof the infinitycircuit.Shedidnotallow herself to meld with it, holding back her powers while next to her thebonesinger Lietriam prepared himself also. He and others of his calling hadworkedtirelesslyformanycyclestohealthewoundslaiduponIyandenbythe

GreatDevourer’sinvasion.Theylabouredinadarkenedcorridor,theonlylighttheglowof their spiritstones and the auraof a lanternglobe that hovered justoverthebonesinger’sshoulder.Theyworkedinsealedsuits,protectedfromthechillairlessvoid, tetheredtothefloorandeachother.Fullyhalf thecraftworldwas still uninhabitable even after all of this time, either still breached to thevacuum,quarantinedbecauseofparasiticorpsychicinfection,orsimplycutofffromthesustainingenergiesoftheinfinitycircuit.‘Irememberittoo,’saidLietriam,sensingherunguardedmemoriesthroughthematerialtheybothtouched.‘Everydomelost,everyconduitsevered,likelosingalimb.Thecancerousgrowthofthehivemindinfectingeverything…’The spiritseer shuddered, sharing the double recollection of her own horrorcombinedwithhismemory.SheglimpsedatoweringHiveTyrantbatteringataportal gate with snarling living blades while Lietriam held the breach on theotherside,pushinghisthoughtsintothedarknesstomeldtogetherthefrayingpiecesofpsychoplastic.Sheheardanafter-echoofhischantingandfeltthecoldalienness of the hivemind as it encroached into his thoughts. The aliens hadfired a volley of grub-projectiles at the gateway, that spattering ichor passingthroughthegaps.Painhadsearedacrosshisfaceandneckbutnotforaheartbeathadhefalteredinhisattempttosealthedoor.Sheturned,eyesdrawntotheacidburnacrosshisneckandcheek.Herenquirydidnotneedtobespokenoutloud.‘While Iyanden bears its scars, so shall I,’ he told her. ‘The healers havedeadenedthepainbutIwillnotletthemerasethemarkuntilmyworkisdone.’‘Idonotthinkyouwilllivetoseethatlabourcompleted,’shesaid,saddenedbythethought.Sheknewwellwhatitwasliketoworktowardsagoalshewouldlikelynotseeachievedinherlifetime.‘Itdoesnotmatter,itisthelabourthatcounts.’Henoddedtowardsthecrystalstructure gently gleaming beneath the skin of the craftworld floor. Whencomplete, it would bring light and warmth to what had once been called theAvenueoftheGuardedLove, linkingthreemajordomesbacktothehub.‘Areyouready?’‘Beginyoursong,’shereplied.Theharmonycamenotassoundbutthought,emanatingfromthedepthsofthebonesinger’ssoul.Iyannafelthisswellingpowerlikeanimbusabouthisbody,bright and close in the void around them. His spirit flowed to his fingers,rippling along the formless mind-sounds of the verses to pour into the inertfabricofthecircuit.

Fresh crystals started to grow beneath the light touch of his fingers, tinytraceries of diamond like the tracks of tears. Sheglanced atLietriamand sawthrough the faceplate of his voidhelm that he was indeed crying, moisturewetting the contorted flesh of his face. From his grief came hope, his sorrowbecomingafuelforrebirththroughthesongofcreation.Lifefromthebonesinger.FromIyanna,thepowerofthedead.Thespiritseerletforthherthoughts,sendingthemintothenascentconduitsofthefreshinfinitycircuit.Lietriam’ssongwaspreciseandbeautiful,butitlackedpower.Thatwasherrole.Shesentherspiritbackalongthecircuit,feelingherwaythroughthedeadenedlinkstowardsthelightandheatatthehubofIyanden.Herbeingmoved through thestructurewithouteffort,bothpartof itandapartfromit.Hersoulpulsedlikeabeacon,sentaheadasasignal.Itwasbothacallandaconduit, themeans to attract the souls of the dead and the power to transportthemintothereforgedcircuitry.Itdidnottakelongforthefirstsparkstoappear.They travelled neuron-fast along the infinity circuit, drawn from the nearbysystemstoinvestigatethesongIyannacarriedintotheirmidst.Theirwhispersgrewinvolume,afewatfirst,inquisitiveandbold.Eachwasaparticlewashingupagainstherthoughts,nestlingintohermindforcomfort,yetcoldtothetouch.Theywereeasytocoaxintothefreshlylaidcrystal,guidedbygentleimpulsesfromIyanna.Theyjoinedthegreatersong,addingnotesoftheirown to the growing symphony. From them echoedmore of Lietriam’s power,linkingthenewwiththeold,thelivingandthedead.Hedrewontheirenergy,syphoning away their vitality to power the recreation of the damaged crystal.One by one, wearied by the exchange, the souls drifted back, grey anddisorientated, floating without purpose back to the core where they wererechargedbythepresenceoftheirfellowspirits.ThecurrentofsoulenergyswelledasIyannaandLietriam’ssongstrengthenedthe bonds of the new circuit, until finally souls pulsed freely along its length.Iyanna withdrew herself, leaving the raw spirit stuff of Iyanden’s dead topopulate the newveins. For a fewheartbeatsmoreLietriam’s song continued,fadingawaytoamurmurbeforeitfinallyended.‘Iamspent,’confessedthebonesinger,hisfacepaleanddrawnwithinhishelm.He lifted his hand away from the bright glittering trail. ‘I shall return at thebeginningofthenextcycle.’She nodded, her acceptance mirrored in a gentle psychic pulse through thenewly established conduit. Iyanna disconnected their tether and watched

Lietriamfloatawayintothedarkness.Shereachedoutathoughtandsnuffedthelanternglobe,leavingherselfonlyinthelightoftheinfinitycircuit.Ittwinkledlikestarlight,feelinglikeserratediceintheairlesspassageway.Was thishowithadbeenforher family?When the torpedoeshadstruck, thestructureandfieldsbreached?Whohaddied in theconflagrationandwhohadsurvivedlongenoughtodriftintothedarkness?Not even the comfort of their recovered spirit stones; even those of herancestorshadbeenlostinthecowardlyattack.Thecrudesentienceofthevoidsuitresistedassheidlyconsideredopeningthefaceplate.Theall-enclosingsuithadbeencreatedtoprotecther,andwouldnotwillinglyallowher toexposeherself to thedeadlyvacuum.But if sheexertedherself…Sheraisedahand,placingglovedfingersacrosstheplate,feelingthesmooth material as though on her skin. The suit bleated another warning,voicelessbutinsistent.AtremorranthroughthenervewaysofIyanden’sinfinitycircuit.Toallbutthemostsensitiveitwouldhavebeeninvisible;tothoselikeIyannawhohadhonedthegiftoftheirpsychicpotentialitwasamessage.The sudden contact brought her morbid thoughts back to the present. Thelanternglobeflaredintolifeandthesuitexudedafaintsenseofrelief.Sheletherthoughtstouchtherippleonthefabricofthe psychicnetworkandaninstantlaterwasfilledwithanimperativetoreturn.Itwasnotjustamessage,itwas a summons, sentwith the fullweightof the seer council, impossible torefuse.Iyannadetachedhertethercableandactivatedthegrav-vanesthatjuttedfromherbacklikeinsectspines,steeringherselfafterherdepartedcompanion.

CHAPTER5

FATESENTWINE

TheYnnariwereirrepressible,clearingEinerashfromtheplacewherethevortexhadspunacrossthebridgesandskyways,throughavenueandplaza,allthewayback to the Endless Stair. When the Tzeentchian horde was on the retreat,Melinieldescendedinhiswaveserpentandalightedtomeethismistress,raisinghisspearinsaluteofherreturn.‘Praise to theWhisperingGod,’ announced the autarch. He pointedwith hisweapon towards the few remaining pockets of resistance out in the pale city.‘Withyourleave,Ishallfinishthetaskathand.’‘I wish it,’ Yvraine said, waving her fan imperiously, though the ghost of asmilebetrayedhergoodhumour.‘ReturnEinerashtothewhispersofthedead.’SheturnedasMelinielstrodeawaysnappingorders,togreettheapproachofahandful ofWhite Seers. The curators of theBlackLibrary, or counted amongsuch,haltedadistanceaway,butforoneoftheirnumberwhoraisedahandtotheOpenerofthe SeventhWay.‘Iseeyoufoundthecouragetosetfootoutsideyourdemesne,Ruisafoneth.’‘It is not cowardice to avoid certain death,’ retorted theWhite Seer, withoutrancour.‘Youhaveourgratitudethoughyourinterventionwasunaskedfor.IdonotthinkAhrimanwilleverrelentinhisattemptstobreachtheBlackLibrary,Ialso thinkhewill turnmuch thoughtnow toyouandyourpeople.Twicenowyouhavethwartedhim,butalsoinyouperhapshemightfindthemeanstoserverighthisage-olderror.’‘Iamwillingtograntthereleaseofdeathtoanyofhisfollowersthatcome.IfAhzekAhrimanwishes to knowmore of the tomb-lore of our people, I shallteachittohim.’Sheraisedthelife-stealingSwordofSorrows,itsedgeglinting

withcoldfire.‘Buthewilllikenotthelesson,whenhetoofinallyknowswhatitisliketoberenderedtodust.’‘WemustnowclosetheEndlessStair.Everyattackweakensusalittle,Yvraine,everysetbackstrengthenstheGreatPowers.’‘Theonlyvictory isnot to fighton their terms,’saidYvraine. ‘WhenYnneadrises,everythingwillchange.’TheWhiteSeerdidnot replybuthisposture suggesteddisagreement.Withagentlecoughhechangedthesubject.‘Youhavethetaintedartefact?’askedRuisafoneth.YvrainenoddedandlaidahandupontheshieldedcontainertheWhiteSeerhadgiventohertoholdthecorruptingenergythatsurroundedtheHandofDarkness.Theseerheldoutahand.‘TheWhiteSeersarewell-versedindealingwithsuchcorruptiongivenphysicalform.Itwilltroubletheworldofmortalsnolonger.’‘I was not tasked by you to retrieve it, but another,’ Yvraine reminded him,stepping back, hiding the box with a swirl of her cloak. ‘There is a purposegranderthandestructioninyourrune-furnacesforthisdevice.’‘Anerror,’Ruisafoneth said sadly,hishanddropping tohis side. ‘Onewhichmany havemade before you. Eldrad should bewise enough to know that theenemy’sweaponscannotbe turned toanygoodpurpose.Evenhecannotbenddarknessintolight.Andtotrustthehumans…Itwastheignoranceofahumanthatfashionedthisvilethinginthefirstplace.’‘Perhapsorperhapsnot,but it is a judgement Iwillnotmake. Ipromised todelivertheHandofDarknesstoEldrad,andhecandowithitashedeemsright,toshareitwiththeprimarchifhedesires.’Yvraine felt the presence of the Visarch close at hand, radiating disapprovalwithout saying a word. She darted a look over her shoulder at the strangewarrior.‘Itisunlikeyoutostandidlewhenthereiskillingtobedone.’TheVisarchstalkedawaywithoutreply.Ruisafonethinclinedhishead,invitingYvrainetostepcloser.Shebenthereartohim,fanraisedtohidetheirfaces.‘Your movement has grown strong, Yvraine, but know that you are notimmortal.Choosewiselythosethatareclosetoyou.Khainedoesnotfreelypullhisclawsfromtheheartofhisswornsonsanddaughters.’‘Heisloyaltomycause,’saidYvraineasshestraightened.‘Sometimestoosureofhimself,butloyal.’The White Seer’s silence was profound and lasted for some time, until he

eventually gave a tip of the head and turned back to the others.The group ofmindweavers returned to the spotwhere thevortexof theEndlessStair coiledabout itself, their arms raised as they began their chants of unmaking. Theirengines drifted past, dormant again, and slipped into the stream of thediminishing portal, fading like mirages. Surrounding the kaleidoscopic whorl,theWhite Seers turned outwards, eyes blazingwith golden power, streams ofsparks falling from raisedhands to create interlacing and concentric circles ofintricaterunesontheancientstones.Theringofseerscontracted,pacingbackwardsslowly,their passageleavingablazeofsilverlightuntiltheysteppedwithintheboundsoftheEndlessStair.Foraheartbeatandthenanother,thewebwayconduitcontinued,flashesofredandambercoruscatingupthecolumnoflight.Withasightheportalshut,suckingin the lastof thesilversymbols,drainingtheirfirelikedustintoatornadountilnothingbutemptyairremained.Yvrainefeltamomentofloss,knowingthatonceagainthepowerofherpeoplehad been diminished. The tidewas endless, the erosion of the aeldari and thecorruptionofthemortaluniverseasunstoppableastheturningofthestars.Sadnessturnedtoanger,bornoffrustration.ThewordsoftheVisarchhauntedher, their subtle accusationall themorepoignant for their accuracy.Thequestforthefinalcroneswordwashergoal,butitwasnottheonlymeanstofighttheforcesrangedagainsttheReborn.Iftheyweretoinheritalifeworthliving,therewereothervictoriestobewonalongtheway–victoriesnotjustinstoppingtheexpansionoftheDarkPowersbutinturningthemback, takingthewarintothenight.

Quiteunawareof the life-threateningdrama thatengulfedheralliesamong theYnnari,Iyannareturnedtoherhometoanswerthesummonsoftheseercouncil.Lietriam and other bonesingers had raised a solitary tower for her, a distancefromtheseers’edificesthatclusteredabouttheentrancetotheDomeofCrystalSeers,butstillwithinsightof theglowingstructureof thehub.Far to therim,among the Ghost Halls of the Lost Dynasties, the estates and manses of theHouseofArienalstillremained,andIyannaspentmoretimeamongtheechoesofherancestrallandsthanatherseertower.A single ascensor lifted her to the summit of her spire, its transit up thetransparent elevator revealing more of the wildlands, out to the edges of thedomewhereslowlyreturningcivilisationclusteredabouttheinnermostarteriesandavenuesof Iyanden.At thepinnacle,her chamberswere sparse–a single

dormitoryandadjacentwashroom,withthebareminimumoffurnishingstorestthebody.Itwasrarethatshewouldspendmorethanacyclethereatatime,andwasoftenawayforadozencyclesormore.Therewerenotheirloomsorpicturesofherfamily.Sheneedednophysicalremindersofwhathadbeen,whatshehadlost.WhatwouldbethepointwhentheHousesoftheDeadwerebutamind’sstepawayatanytime?The pulse of the farseers’ summons still resonated faintly along the spiritcircuits,gentlebutinsistent,guidingherthoughtsbacktothepresent,awayfromthelureofmorbidrecollection.Sheshooedawaythetroublingsignalsasthoughswatting flies. Iyannawasofnomind tobehurriedby thecouncil,her robingroutinearrangedasmuchtoorderhermindasitwashergarb.Themeticulous,oft-repeatedprocesslaidcalmherthoughtsandfocusedherenergy.Iyanna began by divesting herself of her void suit and donned the goldenceremonialrobesofherposition.ShelaidontheplatesoftheArmourofVaul,feelingitsembracelikethecomfortofanoldlover.Inthesetimes–formostofherlifetime–itsprotectivecaresswastheonlyassuranceshefelt thatshewasstillalive.Iyannafeltitsheatonher,thewarmththroughthethickfabricofherrobes, soothing away the creases in her thoughts. She responded in kind,projecting her psyche into the crystalline matrix hidden in the depths of thewraithbone until the runestones and sigils that covered the ornate breastplateglimmeredwithafierylight.Carefully, she opened the crystal-fronted cabinet upon thewall of her abode,theSpearofTeuthlashangingupon two rune-etchedhookswithin. It leapt thegap to her openpalm, eager to be in her grasp.She slowly closedher fingersaboutthehaft,feelingtheweightlessnessofit,stillamazedaftersolongbythemasteryofcraftandpsychicengineeringthathadbeenitscreation.Itwaspartofheragain,alimbrestored,acompanionreturned.If an impertinent strangerwas to ask how long the spear’swarlike spirit hadheld sway over her, she would not reply. To herself, Iyanna justified herfamiliarity with the deathdealer in simple terms: the galaxywas torn by war.Against this truth all philosophies and arguments failed.Therewas no apathy,only resistanceorsurrender. Itwas this thought,more thananyother, thathadguidedhertosupportYvraineandtheYnnari.Iyanden–andIyannainperson–knewbetterthananyothersthepowerofthenecromancer,ofthedeadraisedtofightthewarsoftheliving.There was pleasing balance to the thought that the Great Enemy would besuffocatedbeneaththeweightofthespiritshehadtriedtodevour.

Hermood lightened by this thought, for therewas little that Iyanna enjoyedsave for the prospect that her people might yet die in peace, the spiritseeralighteduponaskyskiffandletitsspirit-guidedsentiencetakehertotheHallsoftheSeerswithinthetoweringcrystalneedlesofthehub.Itflittedacrossbridgesthat spanned chasms down to the bare substrate of the craftworld, and alongbright tunnels painstakingly dug to avoid quarantined domes and plains stillawashwithalienorganisms.

Twowarlocksgearedforbattle,witchbladesattheirhips,awaitedIyannaattheberthingplatform–aruby-glassbalconysethalfwayupthehub.Beforehereyesfelluponthem,sheknewthembytheauraoftheirminds.TelathausandIyasta,twins thathadexperienced thepeculiar lifeof treadingexactly the samePathstogether.Whentheyspoke,theywoveinandoutofeachother’ssentences,soitwassometimesimpossibletodistinguishthemortheirindividualthoughts.‘Thecounciliswaiting–’onesnapped.‘–uponyou,spiritseer,’finishedtheother.‘AndIamarrived,’Iyannareplied,ignoringtheirhostility.ThecultofYnneadwasasubjectoftensionthroughthecraftworld,andthetwinswereofthefactionthat believed the return of theWhispering God boded ill and efforts to bringabouthisascensiondistractedfromthelabourstorebuildIyanden.The twopartedasshealighted fromtheskiff,andfell inbeside toescortherthrough the crystal-walled corridors, though she knew theway to the councilchambers.‘No,’saidIyasta,directinghertotherightatajunction.‘Wehead for theOracular,’ saidTelathaus,motioningher to turnat the sametime.‘Youmustsee–’‘–foryourselfwhattheseersforetell.’They continued through the gleaming passages, passing archways beyondwhichthenakedinfinitycircuitflashedandflickered.Shesawotherspiritseers,comfortingthebuzzingsoulswithinthematrix.Evenunattachedtotheinfinitycircuit, the spiritseer could feel distress permeating the atmosphere. Iyannadetached a little of her mind to discover what was amiss among the dead ofIyanden,butthewarlocksintervened,interposingtheirthoughtsbetweenherandtheinfinitycircuit.‘Itisbetterthatyou–’‘–donotcloudyourperceptionsbeforeyoucometo–’‘–theOracular.’

‘Thisishighlysuspectbehaviour,’Iyannawarnedthem.Shehadanurgetostopand demand an explanation, but the merest hesitancy on her part spurred aflutteringofagitationfromherescorts.‘Thefarseersrequireyourexpertise,Iyanna,’saidIyasta.‘Itisamatterbothimportantanddelicate,’insistedTelathaus.Their psychic nudging, themental equivalent of a hand gently laid upon theback, encouraged her to continue, though she made her irritation known inthoughtandposture.TheOracularwas an open space near to the top of the hub, higher than theresidencespiresaroundit,seeminglywithinhand’sreachofthestarsbeyondtheprotectivefieldsofIyanden.Fromthecentreoftheplateautheregrewatree,ofcrystalbarkandboleshotthroughwith veins of red and yellow, capillaries of the infinity circuit. Itwashardtolookuponthetipsofitsbranches,wherethesplittingboughshiftedandchangedintheblinkofaneye.TheTreeoftheCrone.Alivingmapoftheever-changingfuture.Uponthebrancheshungdarkleaves,inwhoseblackreflectionscouldbeenseenglimpsesofeventsyettopass.Itwasnotthis,however, thatwasthepurposeoftheOracular,forscryingthefates was conducted elsewhere in the hub. The Oracular was a place for thesharing of visions, so that together the seers could explore as one, workingwithinapsychicallyconstructedalternatereality.Waiting therewas theseercouncilof Iyanden. Ifeveracollectivenounwererequiredtodescribeaninstitutionthatpridesitselfonitsvisionandleadership,whilstsimultaneouslypeddlingriddle-strewnambiguities, thenseercouncilfitstheneedprecisely.HerewasthereasonIyannahadbeendrawntothedead,forthey no longer harboured mortal ego and ambition. The five senior membersstood in a line in front of theTree of theCrone, as though arranged for trial,staves in hand, faces hidden behind the jewelledmasks of their ghost helms.Otherswatchedfromeitherside,warlocksandlesserseersamongthem.Dhentiln Firesight took a step forwards, assuming the role of speaker andauthority for the council, as was his custom; he would argue his right as thelongest-servingmember, thoughperiodofservice isnosuregaugeofwisdom.HehadlittleaffectionfortheYnnari,whoheheldinblamefortheturmoilandincursionsthathadbesetIyandenevenwhilethecraftworldattemptedtorecoverfrom the ravages of the Great Devourer. In this, he was perhaps not whollydeluded,forYvraineandherfollowerswereasmuchalodestonefordangerastheyweretheembodimentofhope.

‘Youdeigntoattendatourrequest,’saidDhentiln,whichwasaboldopeningconsidering thathe supposedly required theassistanceof Iyanna.Humilityhasneverbeenthestrongest traitof theaeldari,atanyageorfromanykindred.‘Ihopewedidnotdisturbyoufromsomeoverduereverieorurgentyearning.’‘Speakyourpiece,orholdyourpeace,’Iyannareplied,bangingthebuttofherspearagainsttherubyfloor.‘Youoverstepyourboundstoissuesuchdemandsofmytimewhenthereisstillsomuchtoberebuilt.’Firesighttiltedhisheadafractionofanangle,theverybarestadmissionofanapologyitwaspossibletogive.‘Mythanksforyourattendance,’theseermustered.Theotherpsykersseparated,formingaringaroundthechiefoftheirorderandthe head spiritseer. Iyanna fought back themoment of alarm, assuring herselfthat had they desired ill intent for her, the farseers would have dispatchedwarlockstoensureherattendanceinperson,ratherthanamentalsummons.Stroked by their thoughts, the Tree of the Crone thrummed with unleashedpsychicpower,thestarlitshadowsofitsbranchescreepingovertheredfloortoformapattern that linked theassembledseers,with IyannaandDhentilnat itsheart.

AcoldnesssweptintothelastscionoftheHouseofArienal,atouchofthedeadsheknewwell.She closed her eyes for nomore than half a heartbeat, butwhen she openedthem theOracular had disappeared. She and Firesight stood alone in a barrendome, the vast expanse filled with nothing but flat, grey sands. The artificialhazeofthedomeitselfwaslostindistance,avaguebluesmearontheedgeofconsciousness.Iyanna’s attention was drawn to the grains at her feet, and those around theboots of the farseer. The sand shuddered, dancing rhythmically to a pulse shecouldnot feel,eachperturbation forminganewstructure, slowlyaccruingandspreading outwards from them. The coalescence gathered pace, formingwallsandceilingaroundthem,blandlysketchingoutadjoiningroomsuntilthesewerehiddenbyflowingcurtainsandclosinggateways.Finally,colour.Likethewashofanartist’sbrush,vibranthuespaintedupontheinteriorlandscape,inpastelbluesandochres,patternsofsharperredandgreenuponthewalls.Then,withvertigo-inducingspeed, theimagefellaway;orperhapsitwastheaeldari witnesses that ascended, until they looked down upon a drifting

craftworld.Shecouldseeforestsandmountainsthroughthedomes,andjudgedthatitwaslessthanaquarterthesizeofIyanden,thoughstilllargeenoughtobeconsideredcontinent-sizedonmanyplanets.Thewholeprocesswasdramatic,onemightevensayneedlesslytheatrical,butIyannawasimpressed.‘Wherearewelooking?’‘Wedonotknow,’confessedDhentiln.‘Lookatthestars.’Iyannaadjustedherfocus,sothatthesprayofstarsbeyondthecraftworldcameinto sharp view. They formed a rune, highlighted by distant galaxies andnebulae. Therewas nomistaking themeaning of the sigil: it was the rune ofYnnead.‘Idonotunderstand,’saidIyanna.‘Acraftworldofthedead?’‘A craftworld from the dead,’ corrected Dhentiln. ‘Look upon the devicesmarkedupontheprow.’Iyannadidasheasked,foramomentunabletodeciphertheinterlockingbarsandswirls.Thelineswerearrangedinarchaicfashion,atoddswiththeflowofrunesshehadlearntasachild.Haltingly,shetranslated.‘Zaisuthra…’shemurmured.It tookamomentforher torecognisethename.‘Zaisuthra! It disappeared just after the Fall and has not been heard of since.Some say it passed beyond the galactic veil, others say it was destroyed, ordevouredbytheGreatAbyss.Zaisuthraisamyth.’‘SoisYnnead.’Shecouldnottellifhisremarkwasabarbornot,butchosetotakeitthusonthebalanceofformerevidence.‘Isthissomekindofwarning?ThatIyandenwilldiethesameasZaisuthra?’In reply, Dhentiln merely held out his hand, for Iyanna to take it. Suchenigmaticgesturesare the foodstuffof farseersand Iyannawas innomood topandertohercompanion’ssenseofdrama.‘Justtellme.’‘Ineedtoshowyou,’insistedDhentilnwithaflickofhisfingers,‘ifyouaretobelieve.’Reluctantlysheslippedherglovedhandintohis,andatthemomentofcontacttheir thoughts entwined. She heard a distant voice, but it was not that ofFiresight.Itwasdeeper,emanatingfromtheimageofthecraftworldbelow.Thosethathadgone,havenowreturned.Even as the psychic message infiltrated her thoughts Iyanna was convinced.Agelessweightanddepthcarriedwiththecommunication,ofsuchenormitythat

it couldnothavebeen fabricated.Thebroadcastwas likeabeacon, resonatingthroughthespursofthewebway,butcarryingonlyashortdistanceasmeasuredbetweenstars.‘It is not without precedent,’ said Dhentiln. ‘Has not Altansar been returnedafterlongsuffering?’‘ItispossibletheGreatRifthasfreedthemfromsomesimilarfate,’sheagreed.Shethoughtonthemessagealittlelonger.‘Theyarenearathand.Thepsychicpulseisverylocalised.WasitintendedforIyanden?’BeforethefarseercouldanswerIyanna,anotherrealisationdawned.Athoughtthatsetherhearttremblingandweakenedherlimbs.‘TheHouseofArienal…’shewhispered.‘Indeed,’saidDhentiln.‘AbranchofyourHousewaslostwithZaisuthra.Thisiswhyweneedyoutomakecontact.Aconnectionthattheywillrecognise.’‘Makecontact?’ThethoughttightenedinthepitofIyanna’sstomach.‘Yes.Wethinktheyareaskingforhelp,buttheydonotrespondtoourattemptsatpsychicconnection.Wehopethatoneoftheirown,onefromthebloodlineofArienalwillpersuadethem.WewillsendyoutoZaisuthra.’

CHAPTER6

ASHAREDAGENDA

IthadbeensometimesinceIyannahadusedherseerskillstocommunewiththeliving rather than the dead. She had become sowell-versed inwalking in theshadows,thebrightnessofthestar-spanningwebwayoffendedhersensesatfirst.Lyinguponherplaincot,eyesclosed,shelettheheatandlightandenergyandmovementof thegatheringmass thatwas thewebwaywashoverher.Shedidnoteventrytoformthoughts,butsimplyallowedthematrixtobecomepartofher,itspowerflowingintoandaroundherspirit.She felt the twitch of her spear in its cabinet, like a pinprick on the skein.Iyanna ignored its sirencall, for thiswasa journeysheneeded tomakealone.Notsimplyforherego,butalsoformoreclandestinereasons.Thoughshewas, in theory,free toassociatewithwhomsoevershepleased, tocome and go from Iyanden as a free citizen of theAsuryani, the seer councilwould look dimly upon what she intended. They would never openly try tothwartthemachinationsandmovementsoftheYnnari–ifonlytoavoidmakinganenemyofEldradUlthran,whohadprovenhimselffarmoreresilientthanfoesmorepowerfulthanIyanden’smuchdepletedguidingparty.Evenso,theywouldcurtailIyannaiftheyknewthatshecommunicatedhermovementsabroad,thusitwasasathiefinthedarknessratherthanatorchbearerthatshefinallyallowedherfullconsciousnesstoslipintothepsychicstream.Hercoursewas,forthemostpart,straightforward.SheknewnotwhereYvraineandhercohortcurrentlycouldbefound,butthepresenceofEldradUlthranwasaweightupontheskeinthatnonecouldignore.Hiswerethefingersthattwisteda thousand strands of fate to his purpose, ameddler whowould not baulk atmatchingarcanewitagainsteventheChangeroftheWays.

Ifanything,avoidingEldradwasfarharderthanfindinghim.Likea featherseeddriftingfromtheboughof its tree, Iyanna lether thoughtsfall away fromherphysical shell.Formreleasedmind,mind released thought.Thoughtalonedriftedonthecurrentsoftheaethericlink.In time the skein formed, countless strands and knots and splits of lives andfates, of every sentient creature in thegalaxy– and fewbeyond and less thansentient.Thevastmassmadeup the foundationof fate, theunendingcycleofbirth,reproductionanddeaththatsustainedthewholemass.Occasionally,oneofthese seemingly inconsequential threads deviated from the warp and weft ofdestiny, to briefly fling out a loop or frayed end, causingmomentary discordbeforeendingorfallingbackwithintheceaselessbindingofhistory.Other cords, stronger and longer, the lives of the great and the heroic, theplanetary rulers, army generals and fleet commanders, the psykers with thepowertobreakcitiesandthewarlordsthatwouldruinworlds.She felt the scrutiny of farseers like beams of light crossing the dark void,scintillatingandpiercingastheyprobedtheskeinformeanstoguidetheirfar-flungcraftworlds to themost favourable future.Where theirgazepaused foramoment, the threads hummed with life, keening for attention as the farseersperused thepagesofdestinyunfoldingbefore them.Each storywas laidbare:the riseand fallofempires, themythsand legendsof peoplesacross timeandspace, every blossoming tale examined as to its import to Iyanden orUlthwé,Biel-tan or Saim Hann and other craftworlds besides. The majority werediscarded, vibrating like the plucked string of an instrument before falling togreyobscurity.IntothegapsandgloomslippedIyanna.Shefilteredherthoughtsalongthefatesofmenialsworkingthepalace-peakofahumanhivecity,maskedbytheswarmofinnocuousdrudgery.Beforethelightoftheirmaster’sdestinybetrayedherpresence,shedancedacrosstotheshuttlepilotsbringingingoodstoastarport,andfromthere to the labourers,caterers,slavesandamillionotherpointlesslivesofhumanity.The humansmadegood cover for her glittering progress, the fate of trillionsgroundbeneathuncaringbureaucracy,milledthroughthestonesoftenthousandwars, thedustof their soulsscatteredupon the tombsof long-deadheroes.Anumbraofremorselessmediocrityshieldedherwithinitsbosom,thegreatwashofunremarkedmankindablacknessfardensereventhanthecursedShadowintheWarpoftheKraken.Her thoughts gained speed as she distanced herself from the fates of the

Iyandeni.

Foranage,thecraftworldofUlthwéhadturnedaboutthevisionsandwillofasingle seer– the inestimableEldradUlthran.Yetall agescome toanend,andEldrad’smeddlingandhis thwartedattempts tobringabout theriseofYnneadhadlefthimfewalliesoutside theYnnari.Hehadbeencastout, rivenofrankand influence,andfora longest timehadwanderedasmanyof theYnnarido,seekingsomefreshpurpose.In time, divides heal a little and though never more to be welcomed, noraccepted into the seer council, Eldrad was allowed to return to Ulthwé onoccasionontheagreementthathewouldnomoreattempttobepuppetmasteroftheaeldari.Suchhadbeen theassertionsmade,butEldradwas thecanniestofminds and even aswarswere launched against theDarkPowers and alliancesmadeandbrokenwiththehumans,hehadinsertedhimselfbackintotheaffairsofhishome,andthroughthemhadstartedtowieldfreshinfluenceonthewidergalaxy.Such was the state of affairs when Eldrad invited Yvraine to his privatechambersinanticipationofIyanna’scontact.Hehadbeenexpectingherarrivaland had prepared trustworthy messengers among the Harlequins to take theHandofDarknesstoGuilliman.Thistaskcomplete,thankfullywithoutcomingclose to the artefact himself and all the lures of curiosity that came with it,Eldradhad returnedhispondering to the raisingofYnnead.The fateswere inmotionagainandfromIyandenhehadseenthatIyannawouldattemptcontact,anddesiredYvrainetobepresentalso.HecouldnotrevealassuchtotheOpeneroftheSeventhWay.Ifthereisonething that seers value above enigmatic pronouncements and the veneer ofotherworldly guidance, it is an occasion to remind others of their supposedlyinfallible foresight. To wait in expectation of an event yet to occur is to thefarseer as delicious as a cup of the best wine, reinforcing not only theirappearance of superiority but also disarming those wishing to contact them.Evenso,itisconsideredcrassforafarseertoanswerquestionsbeforetheyareasked – and indeed doing so can cause strange ripples in the cause-and-effectfoundations of the skein – so it was with silent patience that Eldrad UlthranawaitedthepsychicvisitationofhisallyfromIyanden.He had brought with him a Sphere of Projection, allowing him to act as aconduittotheincomingpsychicmanifestationofthespiritseer.ItsatonasilverstandbetweenhimandYvraine,notquiteobscuringtheirviewofeachother,its

palesurfacedappledwithpastelblueandgrey.ThroughEldrad’srunesandthesphere’scarefullyalignedcrystalheart,Iyannawouldappearinthethoughtsofothers – and since perception is very much the greater part of reality, thateffectivelymeantshewould,forashorttime,beinthechamberwiththem.

Iyanna could not help but enjoy a few precious moments of unburdenedselfishness. The weight of Iyanden lay far behind, the responsibility of hercomingmissionstilllayahead.Andbetween,skimmingandprancingacrossthelivesofmortalsandimmortalsalike,Iyannarememberedagainthepassionandexcitementofherfirsttimeupontheskein.Forashortwhileshegloried in thesuddensensationof freedom.Ithadbeenmanypasses since theGreatRifthadopenedandher labourshadmultipliedascorefold and more; a hundred orbits of the Emperor’s throneworld about itsunremarkable star since the renegade Abaddon had breached the defencesaround theEye of Terror and hisminions and allies had unleashed terror anddestructionacrosstheskies.Her thoughts turned her attention to theWomb ofDestruction, that bleedinghearttornfromthecentreoftheskein.Intheroilingdarknesstherelaytheruinsof theaeldaricivilisation, thebirthplaceof theGreatEnemy.SheWhoThirstshad waxed strong in the time since the Great Rift had torn asunder the realuniverseandspewedforththepollutingenergyofthewarp.And through it was an echo, a persistent thought that she could not ignore,growinginhermind.Coheria, the moon that no longer was. The site of Eldrad’s attemptedresurrection ofYnnead, soured by the intervention of the SpaceMarines. Shecouldstillfeeltheripplesofthatdisastrousritual,washingbackandforthacrossthe skein.She couldnot be sure, but also couldnot ignore thepossibility thatCoheria’sdemisehadbeenoneoftheeventsthathadusheredintheGreatRift,one of the punctures in reality that had become an immense rip betweendimensions.Eldradhadshownhimselfcapableofriskingeverythingforachanceatvictory,andcertainlyhewaswillingforothers topayahighpriceforhissuccesses.Ifthe humans ever knew what calamities had beset them, what wars had slainbillions of their number because of his intervention… Worlds snuffed out,generationslosttoEldrad’sscheming.Sheadmiredhim.Therewasnobinarymorality,ofgoodandevil.Theonlyabsolutewassurvive

ordie.Theaeldarihadclungtosurvivalfarpasttheirallottedspan,butsuchhadnot been achievedwith kindwords andwellwishes.Warwas commerce anddeath the currency in these times – in all times since the Fall. Eldrad spentwiselythecoinofothers’lives,andIyannaherselfwaswilling,ifnothappy,thatherpeopleshouldsacrificethemselvesforagreatergoal.Death came to everyone. Formany, it rendered their livesmeaning less, theirambitions nought but vainglory, their achievements forgotten in a generation.Her family had literally died for nothing, extinguished in an act of spite. TheYnnarihadanothercause.Nodeathwouldpassinvain.Nolifelivedwouldbewasted.Ynneadwastheonlyway.Indeaththeaeldariwouldfindpeace.Thescaleofthethreatandthetaskathandquashedalllightnessofspirit.TheoppressivepresenceofSheWhoThirstssmotheredthelastvestigesofIyanna’sdelight,crushingtheflutterofhopeinherbreast.Hitching a ride on the destiny of an autarch of Ulthwé, Iyanna allowed theeternalmatrixtocarryherthoughtstoEldrad.Therewasstillmuchworktobedone.

While others debated the course of fate, the Visarch sought solitude. Thenaggingopinionsofseershadalwaysirritatedhim,thoughheknewhimselfwellenough to understand that it was his inability to shape his fate that hadcontributedinmajorparttothewanderlustthathadruledmuchofhislife.WithYnnead, and in the companyofYvraine inparticular, hehad found apeculiarsort of peace.A contentment that had eluded him in the service ofwar as anexarchandalifeofmercenarykillingwhenanincubihierarch,butwasnowtobefoundasaservantofthedead.Feeling prying eyes andminds on him in the domes of the seers, he soughtmore familiar environswhere honest enquiry did not travel. To the shrines ofKhaine.HeknewlittleenoughofUlthwéoritslayout,butthebeatingironheartoftheBloody-HandedGodwasabeacontohisthoughts,drawinghimacrossthegreatplates and domes, across mountains and down the levels to the core of thecraftworld. Deep within the structure of Ulthwé lay the shrines of the aspectwarriors, a maze of sub-domes linked by dark tunnels and bright highways,leadingtovistasandtempleshecouldonlyguessat.Butifhewasexpectingwelcome,hewasmistaken.Atthefirstarchstoodawarriorinthemagnificentbone-colouredarmourand

brightmane-crest of theHowlingBanshees, her executioner blade held acrossherchest.AwaveofantipathygreetedtheVisarchwhenhestopped,thepulseofhostilityenoughtostilltheritualgreetingonhistongue.Theexarch’smurderousgaze followedhimalong thecorridorashemovedon, lingeringuntilhecameintoviewofanother–ablack-cladDarkReaperexarchstoodbeneaththeruneofhisshrine,whichtranslatedastheBrokenStorm.Hismissilelauncherpointedunwaveringlyattheinterloper.Here,too,theVisarchwasmetwithcoldcontempt.ThechillhatredoftheDarkReapercrackledalongtheburiedmatrixoftheinfinitycircuit,makingitselffeltat the edge of thought. A shudder of distaste trembled through the psychicnetwork, arranged web-like through the many shrines of the craftworld, thethrone room of the slumbering Avatar of Khaine at its heart. Ulthwé was anancient domain, the aspect temples numbered in their hundreds, and ill-intentflowedtowardstheVisarchfromallofthem.Traitor,thememe-thoughtsnarled.Traitor!Alongthecircuithecouldfeelothersregardinghim,standingatthethresholdsoftheirsacredplaces.Hecouldseemanyofthem,weaponsbaredevenastheirhostilitywasplaintosenseonthepsychicmatrix.Theywerearrayedinallthecolours and styles of the aspects, some well known, others found only onUlthwé.HespiedamongtheirmultitudetheblueandwhiteofaDireAvenger–theexarchoftheRisingDawnshrine.The Visarch hurried along the twilit corridor, the ambiance chilling at hisapproach,thelightingdimmingtoafieryorangetomatchthewrathofthosehepassed.His thoughts were a whirl. The voices of those that had come before, thewearers of his armour in ages passed, crammed into hismind, distressed andangered by the circumstances. They demanded many things: answers,vengeance, escape. It was impossible to accommodate their raging, whiningpressureandtheVisarchfaltered,assailedbythespirits’insistentpresence.They were emboldened by the circuitry of Khaine, the blood-stench of theshrines invigorating their warlike desires. The Visarch forced them back,meetingtheirwar-hungerwiththeyawningemptinessofYnnead’sgift,quellingtheircacophony.Hestrodeuptotheexarchandbowedinformalgreeting.Theexarchgavenosuchpoliteresponse,thefaceofherhelmstyledinablankmaskthatwatchedhimimpassively.‘Thereisnoplaceforyou.Thesewallsrecall,evenifyoudonot.’

‘Recallwhat?’heasked,dismissiveoftheritualspeech,theancientmodesthathehadonceused.‘ItrodthePathoftheWarriorbeforeyouwereborn.’‘Nolongerdoyouwalkintheshadow,aspriestoftheaspects.Youhaveturnedfromourlord,becomeadeadthing,yourangerabrokenblade.’‘Khainewillnotsaveourpeople.’‘Saving the aeldari, Eldanesh’s folk, has never been Khaine’s gift.We fighttheirwarsforthem,bleedfortheirfate,andtheydespiseourking.Itmattersnottohim,norhisexarchs,wholivesandwhowilldie.’‘Thenyouhavefailedinyourdutiesofcare,’snappedtheVisarch.‘YoumaybetrappedintheembraceofKhainebutyourshrinesarededicatedtodealingwiththe taint from his bloody touch, not welcoming it. Your pupils fight for theirsouls,fortheirfuture.Ihavefoundanotherwaytodothat.Therearemanythatagreewithme–exarchsandaspectwarriors that serveKhaineandYnnead inequalpart.Khainecaresnotforthecauseinwhichbloodisshed.’‘Thereisnofutureforyou,Ynnead’sget,whileyoudenyyourfate.Khainelaidhishandonyou,madeyouason,andyoudis respecthim.Yourfatewassealedinblood,abondnowbroken,and inbloodyouwillpay.TheHandofKhainebeckons,battleawaits,yourdestinyarrives.’Heturned,startledasthoughbysomeonebehindhim,thoughhesawonlythelongshadowsoftheexarchsastheyhadgatheredaroundhim.Traitor,theywilled,fillinghissoulwiththeircondemnation.Withoutthought,hepulledfreeAsu-varandbrandisheditat thepriestsoftheBloody-HandedGod.Itsbladecrackledwiththeenergyofsomanynearbyspiritstones,andhefeltthehungerofthesword,theyearningofYnneadtofeed.‘Idonotattempttooutrunmyfate,’hetoldthem,takingastep,partingtheringofwarriorswithsheerforceofwill.‘NordoIhidebehindthecloakofKhaineasIoncedid.Death takesus all, eventually.Whenminecomes, I shallmeetmymaster.Whichofyoucansayasmuch?’Ashewasabouttoleave,theHowlingBansheewhomhehadseenfirstbarredhis path with her glaive pointing to his chest. Her face mask wrought in ascreamingvisage,shewastheembodimentofthebanshee,oneofcroneMorai-Heg’sdaughters.Hergazemovedtotheswordinhishand.‘Thatbladeisnotyours,itisacronesword,giftofmymother.’‘Yourfounder,JainZar,thinksotherwise.’Hemovedthetipafractiontowardstheexarch’sthroat,bloodracing,thespiritsinhisarmourclamouringtoanswerthe insult with violence. ‘This is the Sword of Silent Screams, whose touchsteals your last call, draws your spirit from the final breath. Think on this,

banshee.WhywouldMorai-Heg allow such aweapon to be created from herhandifitwasnottostillthevoiceofherowndaughters?’The exarch staggered as though the words were blows, her executionertrembledinhergrip.Hetriednottotakepleasureinhermomentofuncertaintyandfailedmiserably.Buoyedbyhispettytriumph,laudedbythecrooningsoulsinsidehis head, theVisarch swept past, payingno further heed to thedamnedwarriorsaroundhim.Thoughhehadbeenoneofthem,trappedinthesamecage,hehadbrokenfreeand,bycircuitousroute,returnedtobecometheirsaviour.

YvrainehadspentmuchtimewithEldradbutstillknewverylittleabouthim.ItwashewhohadfirstrecognisedthepresenceofYnnead,ameta-thoughtexistingin the ‘tween realm of the webway, feeding upon the trapped energy of thecraftworlds’ infinity circuits. How long had he nurtured that secret, changingfatelines and lives to mould that slumbering deity? What manner of mindconceivedofsuchathing?ShehadfoughtalongsideEldradinbattlesanddebatedhiscauseincounsellingchambers across the galaxy, but never before had she beenwelcomed into hissanctum. The Opener of the Seventh Way hated the feeling that she wasprivileged in some way, that this act was a recognition of her status andimportance.Evenso,shecouldnothelpbut feelshehadbeenallowedto lookupon something fewothers could, so she took the opportunity to examine hersurroundingsinsomedetail,memorisingeverypieceoffurnitureandornament,everyartwork,inthehopesofdecipheringmeaningfromthemlater.Thefarseer’stasteswereeclectic–ifonewastoopolitetosayrandom,gaucheand prolific. At least, suchwasYvraine’s initial thought as she sat on a longcouch,thetrailofherimmaculatelytailoredCommorraghancourtdressheapedaroundher.Shewasremindedof the throneroomsofarchonsthathadtriedtowooher – romantically andpolitically – ladenwith trophies of conquests andsubjugations,declarationsofpowerandprestige.ExceptthatEldradbarelyglancedatthem.Andhisdisplays,suchastheywere,had been confined to a set of three chambers thatwould barely qualify as anarchon’scloakroom.Infact,itwasthelackofspace,exceptforthehigh-vaultedceilings customary in aeldari architecture, that reinforced the meandering,unkemptnatureofthecollection.‘It is just…’beganEldrad,sensingYvraine’s thoughtsashereyesroamedtheroom.Hesearchedforasuitableaeldariwordandfoundnothingthatquitefitted,

andsosettledforoneofthefewperfecthumanwordsinstead.‘Stuff.’Yvraine realised immediately what he meant. These were not heirlooms ortrophies,treasuredpossessionsorvaluedresearchmaterials.Theywereculturalaccretions.Theaccumulationofa life thathadspannedfivegenerationsofhispeople. They had been placed with no consideration at all, simply fitted intowhateverspacehadseemedrightatthetime,andnevergivenasecondthought.Hehadnotevensparedthemthementaleffortofhowtodiscardthem.Shestoodandgracefullypacedtotheadjoiningchamberforabetterview,herlong gown sweeping across the red floor tiles. Alorynis looked up from hisposition on the back of a couch, one eye open, and then settled again,uninterestedinherexploration.Theroombeyondthearchwaywasalmostfullwithmiscellanyfromahundreddifferentculturesacrossadozenraces.Mostofitwaspiledlikethespoilheapofa museum, the effluvia of fashions, trends, fads and philosophies as old asUlthwéitself.‘Why?’Shedidnotturnassheaskedthequestion.‘Whatisthepointofhavingsomuch…stuff?’‘Badges of allegiance. Patronage of artists. Objects of psychic significance Iused to trace the fates. Bequeathed artefacts. Ambassadorial bribes. Gravegoods. The gifts of suitors. Items absent-mindedly left by visitors. Borrowedobjects,equallyforgotten.’Thefarseershrugged,hisheavyrobesbarelymovingwith thegesture.Yvrainecaughta tiny flutterofpain,ofancientaching in thebodyand soul, attuned tohismoodand thoughts through theirmutual contactwithYnnead.‘Ihaveanothertower,adozenroomsfilledwithsuchdetritusofmylonglife.’‘Iforgethowoldyouare,’saidYvraine.Shesatdownagain,flickingopenherfaninthemannerofakabalitecourtier.Sheregardedtheseerovertheserratededge,hersmirkhidden.‘Howveryoldyouare.’‘Old enough to know better than trade quips with the likes of you,’ repliedEldrad,humourinhisvoice.Then he grew sombre again as he pulled back the sleeve of his robe andremovedhisglove.Beneath,hisarmwaspale, theglitterofcrystalveinsclearunderthesurface.Itwasthecurseofallseersthateventuallytheywouldbecomeonewith the infinitycircuitof their craftworld.HowEldradhad so far eludedthatfatewasunknowntoanybuthim,andperhapsYnnead,andhedidnotsharehis secrets freely. Yet the grip was there, the chill touch of the Crystal Seerslowlycreeping,evenifmuchdelayed.

‘Itgetsharder,’confessedtheseerlordoftheYnnari.‘Everycyclenow,anotheratomofcrystal,anotherpieceofmyselflost.’‘IsthatwhyyoudaredCoheria?’askedYvraine,withsuddeninsight.Thefarseershruggedagain.‘IfIreallyknewmymindsowell,perhapsIwouldhavebeencontenttowitherawayanageago.’‘ButyouwanttolivelongenoughtoseeYnneadrestored.’‘Notformyself,’hesaid.‘Nottosavemyself,ifthatiswhatyoumean.ButIhave worked for a long time to see our people delivered from the fate wecreated,anditwouldbeapeacetoknowsuchlabourshadbornefruit.’‘Theyhave,inme.IamtheOpeneroftheSeventhWay,andIwillrecoverthelastcroneswordandseeYnneadrisenfromthedead.’‘Many uncertainties cloud your path,Yvraine,’ he told her. ‘If I knewwhichcoursetochartforyou,Iwouldguideyoueverystep,Iswear.Butthatisnottheway of the universe. We can challenge and cajole fate, make bargains withMorai-Hegtocutathreadshorterorlonger,tosilencethebansheeanddodgethebladeofKhaine.Wecandothis,butwecannotstopdeath.Anditisuponthatroadyoutread,EmissaryofYnnead.Assuch,yourfateiscloakedwiththedarkshroudofthetomb,theprovinceofgodsalone.’This pronouncement sat heavily on Yvraine’s thoughts. She had been manythingsinherlife–artist,warrior,courtesan,pirateandgladiatrixamongothers–andhadneverfeltanythingremotelylikeasenseofresponsibility.Carefreeisanoverused term, butYvraine had indeedbeenwithout a care for anyother, andbarelyforherself,formostofherspan.ItwasnotoftenthatshewonderedwhyYnneadhadchosenher.Or,ifshehadbeenchosenatall,andnotsimplybeenarandombutconvenientconduitforthelashingwarpenergyunleashedbyEldradatCoheria.HermusingwasinterruptedbymovementfromEldrad.Thefarseerslippedhisglove back on and lifted his palm towards the Sphere of Projection. Goldenenergygleamed frombeneathhis slitted eyelids andmatchingwispsof powercrawledacrosstheglobe.Heopenedhiseyeswider,orbsofpuregold,thehintoftwosmallblackskullsforpupils.ThefarseerstaredatYvraine,sendingashiverthroughher.‘Sheiscoming,’heannounced.

Like a beacon, the beam of Eldrad’s mind sprang out across the immaterialfirmament, illuminating Iyannawith its intensity. Though it did not snare her,

therewas an irresistible quality to his thoughts, drawing her toUlthwé like astonerollingdownhill.AsIyanna’sspirit-memenearedtheothercraftworld,herpowerdraggedtoitslimitsbythevastdistancefromIyanden,shefeltasuddeninfluxofenergy.ItcamefromEldradhimself,reachingoutacrossthegulfsofspacetoconnectwith her dormant body back in her chambers. It was incredible, almost asblindingasthenavigator-lightofmankind’sEmperor,yetfarmorepersonalandspecific; despite the intensity of its power, Iyanna had no doubt that only shealonecouldfeelitspresence.Shecovered the lastmoments inarush,hermindcompressedandrearrangedand ordered through the intricate atomic alignments within the Sphere ofProjection.Oneinstantshewasamoteofthoughtuponthewebway,thesecondshehadmindandformagain,standinginaclutteredchamber.Everything was… distant. A haze separated her from her surroundings, ashimmerofhalf-seenveilbetweentherealandunreal.Iyannawonderedif thiswashow theworldof the livingappeared to the spiritwalkers– theanimateddeadlikeAlthenian.InfrontofherYvrainesatforwardsonacouch,thegyrinxathershoulderwide-eyed, teeth bared, ears flattened. The spiritseer saw them as corporeal beings,theirfleshandclothes,theairintheirlungs,thestaticacrossthefeline’sfur.Shealsosawtheirotherself,theechoingauraofspiritthatfollowedthem.Yvraine’swas a pale, icy rime on the skein. The gyrinx a fluttering, always movingbutterfly of a thing, linked to his mistress by a slender tendril of psychicconnectivity.‘WelcometoUlthwé,’saidEldrad,behindher.His voicewasmuted, as though her headwas bound in a scarf.Or, perhapstherewas some other noise near at hand that she had to filter out to hear hiswords–thewhisperandmoansoftheuniversearoundher.She turned, the movement making her feel somewhat insubstantial,disconnectedwith the floor beneath her feet. She felt the pulse of the infinitycircuitmore than thehardnessof thecraftworld, thepsychicenergywithin thematrixmoresolidthanthemoleculesofreality.

Toherhostandhisotherguest,sheappearedasaghostlyfigurecladinherrobesofoffice,semi-transparent.Astarfieldsparkled throughher, thoughnolightorshadowfell in thespacesheoccupied.Shedrifted,movingslightlyawayfromtheshimmeringglobethatprojectedherspirit,sothatshecouldseethembothat

thesametime.YvrainesoothedAlorynis,pettingwithaglovedhandevenasshestrokedwithcomfortingmentalwaves.‘Greetings, sister-of-Ynnari,’ said theOpener of the SeventhWay. She stoodand regally inclined her head, her fan held to her thigh. ‘I see the purpose ofEldrad’sinvitationnow.’‘Youexpectedme?’Iyanna’sbrowscreasedatthethought.‘This is an important moment, Iyanna,’ said the farseer. ‘Such events causeripples.Isensedyouwouldbecoming,butIhavenotdeterminedthepurposeofthisvisitation.’‘I shall not strain my power nor yours with unnecessary politeness,’ saidIyanna.‘Irequestyourhelp.TheseersofIyandenhavediscoveredthereturnofacraftworldweallthoughtlost–fabledZaisuthra.’‘Interesting,’saidEldrad.Hestrokedhischinwithaglovedfinger,thedarkoftheclothstarkagainstthewhitenessofhisskin.‘Ihadnotseenthis.Butthen,Iwas not looking for it. What importance does this have for the Ynnari, orUlthwé?’‘They are not responding to psychic communion. Due to possible familialconnections,Ihavebeenchosentoleadanexpeditiontothecraftworld.WhenIheardofthereturn,Iconsultedtheremainsofthefamilyarchive,toseewhatImight learn of this distant branch of theHouse ofArienal. The detailsmatteronlytome,butinmyreadingIcameacrossareferencetotheGateofMalice.’‘Ihaveheardofit,’saidEldrad.‘Ihavenot,’saidYvraine.‘Whatisit?’‘Awebwaygate,’beganIyanna.‘Zaisuthrawasoneofthefirstcraftworldstofleethedominions-coreasthebirthoftheGreatEnemyapproached.’‘ItleadstotheWelloftheDead,’interruptedEldrad,impatient.‘AportaltothetombofEldanesh.’‘The…? The resting place of the father of the aeldari?’ Yvraine took a steptowards Iyanna, and reachedout to touchher arm, forgetting that shewasnotthere.Herfingerspassedthroughtheimagewithaflickerofpurplesparks.‘YouthinkthatthelastofthecroneswordsmightbefoundinEldanesh’stomb?’‘Areasonableassumption,’EldradansweredforIyanna,earninghimselfaglarefromthespiritseer,whohateditwhenotherschosetospeakonherbehalf.Theseer had donemuch in Ynnead’s cause, but he was not the fulcrum of everyeventthatturnedfatetoonepathoranother.‘I am inviting you to join me on this expedition, Yvraine,’ she said. ‘The

councilofIyandenwanttoassembleataskforceforme,butI thinktheYnnariwouldbeofmoreassistance.IfZaisuthrareallyhasameanstoreachtheWelloftheDead,yourparticular…propertiesandabilitieswouldbeveryuseful.’‘IhadnoplantolingeronUlthwé,myshipsarereadytodepartwithinthenextcycle,’Yvrainereplied.SheglancedatEldrad.‘Whatofourmutualally?’‘No.’ Iyanna’s answer was emphatic, causing the farseer to flinch as lightrippledfromherprojection.‘Dhentilnandtherestofthecouncilwillcomplainat your arrival, Yvraine, but will not intervene. If they think they are beingmanipulatedbyEldrad,andletusbehonest,theywillifhecomes,thentheywillstandindirectoppositiontous.’‘IamsureIcanfindothermatterstooccupymyself,’saidthefarseer,petulantasonlytheveryyoungandveryoldcanbe.IyannaandYvrainesharedalookofagreement.Thespiritseernodded,andthengesturedherthankstoEldrad.‘Yourcounseliswelcome,evenwhenyourpresenceisnot,seerlord,’shesaid.‘IamsurethearchivesofUlthwécanshedfurtherwisdomonZaisuthraandtheWell of theDead, and such as you can prise from its vaults beforeYvraine’sdeparturemightproveinvaluable.’Mollified,forageisneverabarriertoflatteryevenamongstthewisest,Eldradnodded his own support. Then, with a flick of fingers and amental twist, heseveredthepsychiclink,andaheartbeatlatertheroomdisappearedandIyannaopenedhereyesbackwithinherownchamber.Shelaylookingattheceilingforsometime,adjustingtothephysicalweight.Itwasnotthedysjunctionthatcausedherhearttobeatfaster,buttheprospectofwhatwastocome.

‘Wehavemuchtoprepare,’Eldradsaid,pushinghimselftohisfeet.TheStaffofUltramar,whichhadrestedagainstthebackofhischairforthedurationoftheexchange, floated to his grip as he made for the door. He moved with morepurpose than Yvraine had seen since her arrival, invigorated by the freshchallengeandtheprospectoftakinganothersteptowardsfulfillinghisprophecyofYnnead’sreturn.Alorynis jumpedfromthecouchand landednext toYvraine, rubbinghimselfagainst the softnessofhergown,contentment taking theedgeoffher troubledthoughts. She lingered after Eldrad left, searching the room for something, amementooftheoccasion.Her eye was finally drawn to a small figurine, carved from a wax-like

substance.Itlookedlikethemasterofsomethingthatwouldthenbemouldedforcastings,ofanakedgirlkneeling,ahandlaidonthebodyofafawnbesideher,itschestopen,heartmissing.Sherecogniseditimmediatelyasaninterpretationof Lileath,maiden of themoon.Goddess of dreams and portents, Lileath hadforeseenthedestructionofKaelaMenshaKhaine,at thehandsofhermother’smortaloffspring,theaeldari.Thefawnrepresentedthem,andmorespecificallyEldanesh,theFirst,murderedbythevengefulBloody-HandedGod.There had been a time when she had scoffed at talk of myths and legends,beforeshehadfelt thetouchoftheWhisperingGod.Children’stales,moralityplaysandparableswrappedinmysteryandportentouslanguageforthesakeofdramaticeffect.Yvraine took up the figurine and carefully wrapped it in a silken scarf,ponderingthecyclesofgodsandmortals.CyclesthatwouldendforeverwiththeriseofYnnead.

CHAPTER7

THEARRIVALOFTHEYNNARI

A sense of anticipation – or more accurately, apprehension – permeated theatmosphereofIyanden.Justasanemptyhallechoeswiththeslightestsound,sothehalf-desertedinfinitycircuitresoundedwiththeslightesttremorofcollectivethoughts.Andthecollectivethoughtsoftheseercouncilwerefirmlyfixeduponthe return of Zaisuthra. The uncertainty that accompanied this unlikely re-emergencewasdeepenedby thenews that a sizable fleetwasapproachingviathewebway.The vibrations of future deeds came like a bowwave before theships,settingtherunesoftheseersjanglingwithimagesofthedead.IntheGhostHallsthespiritsstirred,theirlamentsheightenedbythecomingoftheir god’s messengers. A psychic dirge thrummed through the minds of theliving,numbingthemto joyand lightandwarmth,so that itseemedtheentirecraftworldwasbathedinachilltwilightofthedeparted.Iyannaavoidedthecompanyoftheotherseers,despiteseveralrequestsforherto attend the council. Preparations were underway to assemble enough livingcrewforaflotillatosetoutforZaisuthra.Thespiritseerdeclinedtobeinvolved,andinstead busiedherselfwithrepairsfarfromthehub,cloudingher thoughtswith theshroudof thenearbyGhostHalls, inorder that shemightkeepsecrethermachinationstobringtheYnnaritoIyandenuntilitwastoolateforDhentilnandhiscompanionstopreventit.Evenso,whenthewebportalthatfollowedasternofthehalf-emptycraftworlddilatedwithpower,IyannafeltthecallofYnnead’schosen,asdidothersacrossIyanden.Shemadeherway to theTheatreofBecoming,adomethatadjoinedthe remnants of the docks set aside for the purpose of welcoming – andpotentiallycontaining–visitingcontingents.

Shewasnotaloneinherinterest.ManyIyandenithrongedthepalegreystepsof thehallandmeandered through the tree-likecolumns thatheldupa roofofgreenandbluecrystal.ThousandshadcometowitnessthearrivalofYvraineandher cohort, for there was little enough spectacle to amuse in the day-to-dayexistenceofIyandensinceitsinvasionsandwoes.Theatmospherewasmixed,partlyacelebration,agatheringnotseenforsometime.Foralltheiraestheticdisdain,theIyandeniwereasgarrulousandsocialasany other aeldari. It was natural that old friendships were renewed on theoccasion,and freshacquaintancesmade.Suchwas thedevastationwroughtbysuccessiveattacksandinvasions,theIyandeniwereamicrocosmoftheshatteredaeldarikindreds,geographicallyandemotionallydividedby thewasteland thathad been left of much of the craftworld. Isolationism had taken root in theirthoughts, but the prospect of outside stimuli roused all but themost quixoticinhabitants.Arrayed against this were the council and a crowd of Iyandeni filled withmisgivingsatthereturnoftheYnnari.Beforethegrandsilvergateswaitedtheseers, clad in their yellow robes, faces hidden behind their ghosthelms, theirpoisesombre.Anentourageofwarlocksandbonesingersformedadarkknotintheheartofthegatheringcrowd.Thedeadmovedamongtheliving,ashadbecometheirwont.Somewerecladin wraithbone constructs, others appeared as incorporeal mists and half-seenspectres,formedofenergyleakedfromthebrokeninfinitycircuit.Onentering,Iyanna immediately found herself surrounded by these formless ghosts, herpresenceasirencall,hermindanamplifierthatfocusedtheirfracturedthoughtsintoasemblanceofmortalcoherence.So itwas thatas shedescendeda long,curving flightof shallowsteps to thefloor of the immense hall shewas followedby a parade of animated artificialbodies and swirling apparitions. The living turned at her approach, theirreactions a reflection of thewider atmosphere – some grateful for her arrival,others afraid and sceptical.The spectral dead seemed as a cloak that billowedfromhershoulders,and thewraithconstructs formedup likeanhonourguard,slow,longstridespacingalongsideherasshedescendedwithanassumedairofserenityasshepassedthroughthepartingassemblage.Intruthherthoughtswereinturmoil,anditwasthisagitationthathaddrawntheattentionof thedisembodied Iyandeni.Thecouncil turnedasone towatchherapproach,theirbodylanguageconveyingtheirhostilityassureasanywords.Therewasnodoubtthattheysuspected–knew–thatshehadbeencomplicitin

thecomingoftheYnnari.Itwasherhopethatconfrontationcouldbeavoided,butonlyasmallhope.Withathoughtshesettledthedead,commandingthemtowait.Theconstructshalted,becomingasstatueswithouthersensesandthoughtstoguidethem.Theflittingghostsdisobeyedatfirst, likemothsaboutaflame,unabletocurbtheirself-destructive instinct, until she sent them scattering with a psychic rebuke.They fled, clustering about the upper tiers of benches and the capitals of thecolumns,aformlesscloudofthedead.‘Idonotlookkindlyonthis,’Dhentilntoldher.Thesewordswereintendedasagravepronouncementbut simply reassured Iyanna thathewasnotprepared toeffectamoredolorousindictment.Asensibleposition,whichtookintoaccountthesimplefactthatYvraineandherseveralhundredYnnaricompanionsabouttoalightonIyandenwouldlookequallyunkindlyonanyretributionagainstIyanna.‘No offencewas intended,’ Iyanna said, seeking to calm the troubledwatersbetweenthem.‘Norchallengetoyourposition.Ithoughttheassistancewouldbeuseful. Iyanden and theYnnari can achievemore in cooperation than Iyandenalone.’‘Yes,Iamsurethatwasyouronlymotivation.’

AshudderthroughtheinfinitycircuitannouncedthedockingofthefirstYnnariship.Adisembodied sighpassed across thehall, a collective exhalationof thelivingandpsychicreleasefromthedead.The tall gates opened inward silently, revealing a figure in long gown andornate headdress, a feline carried in the crook of one arm, an open fan in herotherhand.Aheartbeatlatershewasjoinedbyanarmouredwarrior,thepeltofanexoticanimaltumblingfromoneshoulder,gleamingbladebaredinhisfist.Yvraine appeared to glide across the tiled floor, her elaborate courtly dressbarely moving, head held just a fraction up and away from the contingentawaitingher,ameasuredposeofaloofness.Afewmomentsaftershecrossedthethreshold,theVisarchsheathedhisswordandfollowed,helmedheadturningleftandrightashewatchedthesilentcrowd.Othersappearedatthegate,AsuryaniofthecraftworldsanddrukharifromtheCommorraghanwebwayandbeyond,eachmarkedorcolouredinsomewaytodenotetheirallegiancetothecultofYnnead–eithertheruneoftheWhisperingGodorthescarletofhissect.Theydidnotencroachfar,butassembledwithinthegatewayastheirladygracefullymadeherwaytotheseers.ShestoppedseveralpacesfromDhentilnandbentlow.Hereyesneverlefthis

throughoutthedurationofthebow,theactofpolitenessconductedinsuchawaythatitmasked,butdidnotwhollyconceal,herdeadlypotential.Asabowstringtautinthehand,thefingeruponthetrigger,Yvraineteetereduponamomentofrelease,yetappearedutterlyrelaxedinpoiseandexpression.‘MyladyofYnnead,’Dhentilnsaidsoftly,returningthebowwithaperfunctorydipofhisown.HethrewaglancetowardsIyannabeforehecontinued.‘LetusnotwastewordsonenquiringwhatbringsyoutoIyanden.’‘I seek help,’ Yvraine said, her voiced pitched to carry throughout the hall.‘HelponlyIyandencangive.Ynneadhasneedofyourdead.’

At the invitation of the seers, Yvraine departed with them and Iyanna. TheVisarchmoved to follow,butwas summarily instructed to remainbehindbyahardlookfromtheOpeneroftheSeventhWay.Thewarriorwatchedherdepart,eyelingeringonthearchwaywhilemoreoftheYnnarimovedintothehall,tobemetbyadriftofthecrowdcomingtowardsthesilvergates.AshadowfellovertheVisarch and he looked around to find awraithlord towering over him, itsfeaturelessfaceturnedinthesamedirectionashehadgazed.‘Allwisdom,fromparentstotheirchildren,meetsdeafears.’Thevoicewasacalm,bassthruminhisthoughtsaswellasinhisears.‘You speakofYvraine, or Iyanna?’ asked theVisarch.He laid a handon thepommel of his sword and raised the other as a fist in salute to the massiveconstruct.‘Wellmet,Althenian.Youhaven’tagedacycle.’‘Wordsforboth,’thewraithlordreplied,wistful.‘Lifeiswastedonmortals,isitnot?’‘Youhaveitwrong.Itwaswethatwastedourlives.Wefellinlovewithwar,allowedKhainetoruleourhearts.’‘Withdeath’stouch,bothofusarenowreleased, tofreedom,’saidAlthenian.Withanopenhand,hegesturedfor theVisarchtomoveahead,asmoreof theYnnari disembarked through the docks behind them. The Iyandeni did notapproachthestrangepair,thecrowdopeningupastheywalkedfurtherintothehall,respectfulofthewraithlord,waryoftheSwordofYnnead.‘Iamnotdead,’saidtheVisarch.‘Areyousure?’repliedtheancientone.‘Whichpartofyouismortal,Laarian?TheVisarch?Icanseewhat is inyou.Manysouls.Thenamechanges,butanexarch you remain, in your mind. Destiny, even if you change your armour,followsstill.’‘Thatismynamenomore,amantleIhaveshed.IamtheSwordofYnnead,

blade of Khaine no longer,’ the Visarch contested hotly. His outburstimmediatelyputthelietohiswordsandhegrowledinirritation.‘Andwhatofyou, dead one? There is a suit of armour lying abandoned in the depths ofIyanden, yearning for the return of its spirits. A shrine that requires a priest.Pupilsabsenttheirteacher.Asquadthatneedsaleader.’‘Youareright.Wearebothaberrations,Laarian,’admittedAlthenian.They stopped at the first bank of steps.TheVisarch sat upon a stone bench,sword angled from his hip, cloak swung aside.With a quiet hum of artificialfibres,Althenianloweredtoakneebesidehim,armsrestedonextendedthigh.‘Nothing changes, history haunts our new lives,’ said the wraithlord. ‘As itshould.Ararething,anexarchthinkingtoomuch,seeingtruth.Towhatend?Weshouldnotbeasweare,yetweare.Fromothers,thetouchoutsideofourselves,turnedusthus.’‘Inmycase,thewhisperofagod,’theVisarchpointedout.‘Andforme?CouldIyannahavebeenmovedbyagod?’The wraithlord’s gesture swept the hall, indicating the scores of Ynnarimingling hesitantly with the Iyandeni. Former Commorraghans hung back,uneasy in the presence of the craftworlders, distrusted in return. Harlequinsmovedaloneandingroupsthroughthemass,theiranticscausingconsternationanddelightinequalmeasure.Corsairsandrangers,outcastsofeverystripekeptto their company, interacting only when offered food and drink, eyeing theirsurroundslikecagedanimals.Thoseofothercraftworldsseemedatease,thougha step removed from their former kindred, their allegiance to Ynnead settingthemapartfromthosethatstillremainedsquarelyuponthePath.‘Nosuchthing,atypicalYnnari,nonethesame.Whatbindsyou,sodisparateapeople,toyourcause?Allalone,kinoftheWhisperingGod.Outsiders.’‘Youknowthepurposeofourvisit?’askedtheVisarch,nolongercomfortablewiththetrainoftheirconversation.‘OfZaisuthra?’‘Alittle,gleanedfromIyanden’scircuit,inpassing,’answeredAlthenian.‘Sotosay,enoughtoseethedanger,thatisall.’‘Inthatwehaveagreement.Notidlydotheshadowsofthepastreturn.Thatthecraftworldcomesnowwhenallissunderedspeaksofadeeperpurpose.’‘Many and strange are the things beyond the sight and knowledge of ourpeople,andZaisuthrahastravelledintothatdarkness.’‘Letushopetheybringnothingofdarknessbackwiththem.’Theystayedinsilenceforsometimeafter,bothknowingthathopeofanykindwasararecommodityfortheaeldari.

AccordwasfoundbetweenYvraineandDhentiln,andbyextensiontheYnnariandIyandeni.JointlytheywouldreachouttotheaeldariofZaisuthra.Theseeradmonished Iyanna for what he saw as duplicity, and insisted that Iyasta andTelathaus would accompany the expedition to ensure the interests of Iyandenwererepresented.The discussion took place in the great Hall of Truths, intended for the opendebate of thousands, massive for the handful who negotiated the agreement.Streams of undulating wraithbone fell from ceiling to floor like frozenwaterfalls,usuallyglimmeringwiththelightof thedead,nowmutedandgrey,thespiritsbanishedbyIyannaforthedurationofthemeeting.Assoft-footedasonlytheaeldaricanbe,subtleofgestureandvoice,stillitseemedthateverystepresoundedlikeaniron-shodboot,eachsighofclothorcreakofleatherechoedintheemptyvastness.Itwas a reminder ofwhat had once been, now lost, and inmind of that thediscussions had proceeded swiftly, all disagreement spoken in muted tones,emotions kept firmly under control. When last the Ynnari and Iyandeni hadspoken together here, they had elected to raise a demigod from the past ofmankind. Thematter at hand seemed equally ladenwith history and portents,andYvrainenotedaparticularabsence.‘ShouldnotPrinceYrielknowofthisquest?’‘Bethankfulheisnothere,’saidDhentiln.‘Hisspiritisrestlessasever,andhehasnoloveforyourcause.Thoughyourpower–Ynnead’s power–broughthimbackthroughdeath’sgate,heremembersthatitwasthefaultoftheYnnarithathepassedthroughit.’‘Hebearsacronesword,andhasdoneforsometime,’saidYvraine.‘Whetherhelikesitornot,heisboundtoYnneadinspiritandbody.HesettledforatimeinIyanden,buthishearthasalwaysremainedoutinthecoldvoidbetweenstars.Thatiswhyheisnothere.’‘I’ll lose nomore ofmy people to your cult,’ saidDhentiln as the conclavedrewtoitsconclusion.‘Your people?’ Iyanna’s glare would have made any lesser-ego flinch, butDhentilnwasunabashed.‘IamofIyanden,thesearemypeople,butIdonotclaimownershipofthem.’Yvrainesuppressedasnortofderisionandhidhersneerbehindherfan.‘Butyouassertthattheyarenolongermine?’continuedthespiritseer.‘Isthatyourmeaning?’Inreply,thefarseerlookedatYvraineandthenbacktoIyanna.

‘It has become clear where your loyalties lie, Iyanna. Save yourself muchanguishby admitting as such.Since the terriblemisfortunesof theRedMoonfell upon yourHouse there has been nothing to bind you to Iyanden save forhabitandhistory.’Thespiritseeropenedhermouthtorebuttheassertionbutfoundthattherightwordsfledher.Shesatisfiedhonourandegowithacurtshakeoftheheadbeforesheturnedsharplyaway,thebuttofherspearrappingdeafeninglyonthefloorasshestrodetowardsthedome’sexit.

YvrainesteppedclosertothefarseerasAloryniswoveinandoutofDhentiln’slegs. The Iyandeni seer directed an irritated glance at the creature, a psychicstaticcausingtherunesuponhisbraceletsandathisbelttofidgetandbuzz.‘Confoundedgyrinx,’hemuttered.‘Ilivetoconfoundtheexpectationsofmyseniors,’Yvrainesaidquietly,restingahandlightlyonthesleeveof theseer.Shefixedhimwithanicystare.‘Yourpeopleandmineshallwalksidebyside,butIwillacceptnodistractionfrommygoal.IserveallaeldarithroughYnnead,notonekabalorcraftworld,masqueormaidenworld.Remember that all of our souls belong to theWhisperingGod,unlessyouwouldprefertospendyoureternalafterlifeinthegraspoftheGreatEnemy.’Dhentiln shuddered and recoiled, snatchinghis armaway.He tried tomusteranger,but fearwashed fromhim incoldwaves.Thoughhis runesguardedhisspiritagainstthepredatorsandperilsofthewarp,hissoulwaslaidbarebeforethe sight of the Opener of the Seventh Way. She continued before he couldspeak.‘IhavebutoneuseforZaisuthra, thegate thatwill takeus to theWellof theDead.Allotherconcernsareyoursalone,andIyandeniswelcometothem.’Dhentilnconsideredthispieceofinformationforamoment,browfurrowed.‘YouthinkyouwillfindtheTombofEldanesh?’Hislaughwasshortandbitter,almostayap.‘YoucravedeathmorethanIrealised,ifyouthinktoventureintothatcursedplace.’‘Whatdoyouknow?’demandedYvraine.‘Whatareyoutalkingabout?’‘ThetouchofKhaineliesuponthatrealm,DaughterofYnnead.Thegodofthedeadcannotprotectyouthere,foritissteepedinthetreacheryofKaelaMenshaKhaine.OnlystrifeandbloodshedwaitsforthosethatseektheWelloftheDead.Thus it is written in our legends.’ His expression softened, anger curbed byconcern.‘Ifyouareright,andZaisuthraishometotheGateofMalice,donot

passthroughit.Thereisnothingontheothersidebutruin.Khainewasthedoomofourpeopleoncebefore,donotgivehimasecondchance.’Shaken by the farseer’s sincerity, Yvraine said nothing more. She quicklyfollowedafterIyanna,Alorynistrottingatherheel.

CHAPTER8

THEGHOSTHALLS

Thetwosisters-of-the-deadapproachedtheGateofSouls,ametaphoricalaswellasphysical departurepoint from the craftworldof the living to the abandonedlandsofthedead.ForIyannatheGhostHallsofIyandenwereasecondhome–or a first home in the case of the ancestral lands of theHouse ofArienal. ToYvrainetheywereasacredrealm,therestingplaceofYnnead’swards.ThephysicalGateofSoulsappearedasabroad,closedarchwaytentimestheheightofanaeldari,vastenoughforeven thegreatwraithknights topassbackandforth.Twopillarsofsilverandwhitestonehelduptheimmenselintel, therunesoffourdozenHousesinscribeduponitssurface.The lands of the dome that covered the approaches to the crossingpoint hadonce been verdant meadows and forests, through which had wound sparklingstreamsandgoldenstonedpathways.Memorialmonolithsandstatueshadbeenerectedinhundredsofsecludedgrottoesandgroves,shrinestothefallenhiddenincavernsandbehindthecascadeofrainbow-girdedwaterfalls.Nowtherewasnothingleftbutgreysand,sharpgritandshatteredmonuments.Columned mausoleums stood broken on hilltops, bare to the sky and theuncaring universe, roofs toppled.The streamswere dry beds, litteredwith thebones of fish and water mammals, their tiny skull eyes staring up from thehardenedsilt.Coinsandtrinketsandlovers’tryst-giftstossedintothepoolsforthe blessings of the ancestors were held fast in the dirt, their gold and silverbright against the darkmud.Thewhite-timbered bridges that had spanned thewaterwayswere nothing but rotted piles, jag-topped fangs in the dark chasmsand shadowed canyons that had once glittered with ten thousand lanterns,betweencairn-litteredmounds thathad resounded tobeautiful songsof lament

beneathaconstantstarlitnightgeneratedbythecraftworld.Allofthatmidnightbeautyhadbeenreplacedbyaharsh,blandglareofartificiallight,leavinglittleshadowandevenlesssenseofawe.MemoriescrowdedIyanna’sthoughts,imagesoftheplaceasithadbeen.HervisionmistedasshefollowedapathtowardsthegatebesideYvraine.‘We came here when I was young. Many times, on the festivals ofremembrance,forthebanquetsofjoyousmemorial.Thehappinessoflivesspentwell,andthesadnessoftheirloss.Alwaysthebalance,thelivingandthedeadinharmony.’Shemadeapretenceofclearingherthroat,thoughitwasnophysicalblockagethatstifledherwords.Yvrainesaidnothing,waitingforhertocontinue.‘I can see themnow, thebannersof redandyellow, the streamers tied to thelegsofflittingtombswallows.Ihear laughter, the liltofmymother’smirthasshe remembered the jests of hermother.My father, smiling, silent but happy.Starlight of silver, lanterns of yellow and azure. And the smell of incense!Aromatic, uplifting vapours carried on the breeze from the wardens’ shrinebraziers.Ihadnearlyforgottenthat.’‘IremembercelebrationsonBiel-tan,’saidYvraine.Apause,justabreath,butaheartbeatofreflectionbeforeshecontinued.‘Mostlysucheventsweretolaudthosethathadgiventheir liveswhile inservice toKhaine.Heroes,wethoughtthem.Theexarchs, theywouldbereborn.But theaspectwarriors?Thepilots?The guardians and the jetbike riders, the gunners and the ships’ crews? Theirlives had been given up to the glory of the Biel-tani, laid upon the altar ofKhainefortherestorationofourpeopleandourempire.’‘TheRebirth ofAncientDays?’ said Iyanna, referring to themeaning of thecraftworld’sname.‘I believed it then, that we might be restored,’ confessed Yvraine with anembarrassedflushtohercheeks.‘Thefolly!Thatwecouldeverdragourselvesback from the abyss intowhichwe had plunged.To think thatwar and deathwouldsaveus,thatKhainewouldbeoursalvation.’‘Nowyouknowthatthereisanotherway.’‘TheSeventhWay,’saidYvraine,hersmilewry.They continued in silence as theywalked the long paths towards the distantgate, contemplating thepassingof even thedead.Notabuzzof insectorbirdcallorscurryofsmallanimalbrokethestill,onlythelighttreadoftheirbootsonthegravelledpaths.They came before the Gate of Souls and stopped. Though all about was

physicallydead, even in that dismalplace the ever-present auraof the infinitycircuitlaiduponeverything.Attunedtotheenergyofthedead,bothYvraineandIyannaaccepteditspresenceasothersaccepttheairintheirlungsorthegroundbeneaththeirfeet.TotheOpeneroftheSeventhWayitwastheconstantwhisperofhergod.Onacraftworld she heard the souls of the dead speaking to her constantly, thoughtheir words were only half-formed, their intent clouded by their incorporealnature.ForIyanna,whohadmovedabouteveryfibreoftheinfinitycircuitatonetimeor another, the soul of Iyanden felt like a static upon her mind, rising to aninvigoratingcrackleorsnapwhenshenearedoneofthenodesthroughwhichitspowermightbeaccessed.Beyond the gate lay nothing. At the boundary the infinity circuit had beendeliberatelycurtailed,topreserveandpowerafunctioningmatrixforthelivinginhabitants of Iyanden. Crystal lattices and psychically inductive roots andbranchesexistedpastthegate,buttheywerefractured,disincorporatedfromthewhole.Thesunderinghadhappenedaftertheincursionofthetyranids,whenswathesof the network had been tainted by the hive mind, rendered corrupt by thephenomenonknownas theShadow in theWarp.Rather than someamorphousblanketingnightmarethatquelledtherealmoftheother,ithadformedtendrilsofpredatory darkness, infiltrating and devouring the conduits even as bio-constructshadassimilatedthephysical,livingpartsofthecraftworld.Upon this calamity had been poured further catastrophe, when both mortalfollowersoftheDarkGodsandthedaemonicminionsoftheLordofDecayhadfollowedinthewakeoftheGreatDevourer.Alreadycutofffromthehub,hugetractsof theGhostHallshadbeen lost to the taint ofNurgle, purgedafter theinvasiononlybygreateffortoftheseersandbonesingers.IfthedomeoftheGateofSoulswasatopographicallybarrenwaste,theGhostHallsbeyondwerethepsychicequivalent.‘Ynnead has need,’ Yvraine reminded her companion. ‘While Dhentiln canreasonablylayclaimthatIyandenrequiresallthatremainsofitsinfinitycircuit,hecouldnotsaythesameforthedispossesseddead.’IyannanoddedandraisedtheSpearofTeuthlas.Ahalogleamedfromitsbladedtip,reflectedfromthedark,solidmetalofthegatedoors.Thelightflowedlikequicksilveralongslenderchannels,creatingaglitteringpatternuponthemassiveportal.On the left, entwined through the branches of a tree in full bloom, the

runeofIsha,motheroftheaeldari.Ontheother,setuponapyramidthatwasinturnemblazoneduponasun,thesigiloftheLordofHeavens,Asuryan.‘The living seek the audience of the dead,’ Iyanna intoned, the wordsswallowedbytheenormousweightoftheportalinfrontofher.A noise like the flutter of a breeze through dead leaves coalesced into awhisperedreply.Whospeaksfortheliving?‘Iyanna, of theHouse ofArienal, spiritseer.You knowmewell, ancestors ofIyanden.’‘Yvraine,EmissaryofYnnead,daughterofshadows.Mylordisyourlord.’Silence.Iyanna’sheart thuddedascoreoftimesasshewaited,andbesideherYvraineregardedtheclosedportalwithicyeyes,hergyrinxcompaniononhershoulderstockstill,furandwhiskersprickling.Soundless, adark lineappearedbetween thedoors andwidenedas theportalopenedawayfromthem.Awindblewout,chillanddry,andbeyondtheopeningGateofSoulslaynothingbutpitchblackness.Iyanna and Yvraine spared one look for each other, sisters in the family ofYnnead,andsteppedintotheembraceofthedead’smidnight.

ThelightfromthedomeoutsidetheGateofSoulsfadedastheywalkedon,thefloor of the hall hard and cold underfoot. There was nothing of the infinitycircuit here, not the slightest buzz or blur of psychic life. TheGhostHalls ofIyandenhadchangedlittlefromwhenYvrainehadlastvisited,thoughalsotherehadpassedmanycyclesofsubtleprogression.Inthepastthesedomeshadbeendisturbinganaloguesofthequartersoftheliving,wherethedeadhadcontinuedbyrotethatwhichtheyhaddoneasmortals.Ancientcourtsofprincesandseershadsatindeath,amockeryoftheintriguesandfashionsthathadonceheldswayupon the lost Houses. Clad in shells of wraithbone the spirits of the deadwandered their chambers and passages, and stood endless vigil at tombstonesandparapets,gazingouttobrokentowersandfallenmansions.Themindlessparodycontinuedstill,butinfarlessgrandeur.SeveredfromtheinfinitycircuittheGhostHallshaddwindled,becomingtwilitplacesofshadowsandformlesswraiths.Thecarcassesofbrokenwraithguardandwraithbladeslaywhere they had fallen in tiled hallways and on winding stone stairs, theghostlight of their former occupants skittering to and fro in confusion anddesperation, locked to their last mortal incarnation but unable to manifest

anythingbutthemostrudimentaryawareness.They proceeded along carpeted hallways between tapestries as old as thecraftworlddepictingcitiesandmountaintopfastnessesdestroyedintheFallfivegenerationsbefore.Ornatechandeliersandlampsglowedfitfully,enoughonlytothrowdancing shadowsabout the intruders, castingpatchesofdarknessacrosstheir path. The spear of Teuthlas gleamed in Iyanna’s hand, a pool of goldenlightaroundher,whileYvraineglowedwithamoonlightofherown,reflectingthetomb-energythatseepedthrougheverytimber,beam,stoneandthreadoftheforgottenpalaces.Attheapproachofthespiritseertheaeldariwillo’thewispsbecameagitated,gaining a semblance of their lost awareness, base sentience returningwith thefocus her presence brought. They flocked to her, streaming through archwaysand down stairs, until Iyanna was at the centre of a growing constellation ofsoulsthatbobbedaboutherlikefireflies.She raised her empty hand and allowed a soul to settle there, feeling for aninstant thesparkofhis life,sharingfleetingmemoriesof loveand loss,poetryanddestruction.Withaflickofthewristthespiritseersentthesoulbacktotheothers.‘Sendword,’ shewhispered, her breath a vapour lit by the swarming spirits.‘Sendwordthataconclaveistobeheld.TheHouseofArienalcalls.’Withapsychicimpulseshesenttheformlessghostsinalldirections,scatteringthem on the immaterial breezes. Her imperative was the last thing in theirthoughts,suchastheywere,tocarryhermessageouttotheotherGhostHalls.‘Willtheycome?’askedYvraine.‘Weshallsee,’saidIyanna.

CHAPTER9

THEBEACONOFARIEACH

IttookagreaterpartoftheremainingcycletoexitthegrandhouseoftheGateof Souls and cross theBarrenlands that encircled it.Without energy from thenetworkofIyandenitwasadesolate,lonelyplace,litonlybysoul-lightandtheglimmer of stars through the azure skyscreens above. The skeletal remains offorests and the broken cliffs of long, dry shorelines guided them along thetracklessroute,thoughIyannaknewthewaybyinstinct.Notasoulstirredheresave in the stonesof the spiritseer and the coilingdeathly energies ofYnneadthatdancedamongthefoldsofYvraine’scourtlygarb.Adistantcrashofwavessoundedagainstagreyshore,andto thisabandonedbeachcamethepair,tostandonthecolourlessdunestolookoutuponasluggishsea,itstidesandswellscreatedbyextensionfromthestill-livingDomeofSkiesthat bounded the far side of the sea. On a crumbling cliff top to their right,overlooking the dismal bay, theWatchtower ofArieach stood proud, a yellowthrustofghost-stoneamidacomplexoflowbuildingsandwalls.Theymadetheirwayalongthebeach,leavingshallowfootprintsinsandsthathad not seenmortal tread formore than threemillion cycles.Awinding paththroughspursofgorseandsearushesledthemupthecliffside,astrataofred,grey,blackandwhitestoneononeside,aprecipitousdrop to jaggedrocksontheotherwithnorail.Yetaeldariareadexterouspeopleandtheascentcarriednomoreriskforthepairthanwalkingoveropenground.Whentheyachievedthesummitthepathdissipatedagain,swallowedbydeadgrass and age-worn triangular flagstones that demarked the boundary of thewatchtower’s realm, lined by a series of standing stones marked by moonlitglyphsinthemostancientaeldarilanguage.

‘Areyousureyouwishtodothis?’askedYvrainewhenIyannamovedtostepacrosstheboundaryline.Shelaidahandonthesleeveofthespiritseer’srobe.‘Too long I have avoided thismoment,’ Iyanna replied. ‘I am the last of theHouseofArienal,anditismyright.’

There was a moment of resistance when theymet the invisible border of thewatchtower. Though the Ghost Halls were separated from the main infinitycircuit, here and there pocket networks continued towork, aswas the case atArieach.A spirit engine hidden in the foundations of the tower, linked to thelodestones set about the circumference, recognised Iyanna’s approach andstutteredintoasemblanceofactivity.Silverilluminationgleamedfromhighwindowsthathadbeendarkaheartbeatearlier.Rune-carvingsonthemonolithsresponded,shiningredandgreenupontheparchedgrasslandandabandonedbuildings.YvrainemovedtofollowbutIyannahaltedherwitharaisedhand.‘Iwillreturnsoon,’thespiritseerassuredhersister-of-the-dead.UsingtheSpearofTeuthlasasawalkingstaff,Iyannapickedherwaythroughtumbledbouldersandunevenslabs,headingtowardsthecentraltower.Shewasstill a dozen steps from the dark redwoodwhen the doors opened.The greatportalswungoutwardstorevealadimlylitinterior.Itwasfarfromwelcoming,theshadowsseemeddeepenedratherthanallayedbythegleamofherspeartip.Justafewstridesinsideshecametoahalt,facingasemicircularalcovelargeenough for three to standabreast,directly facing thedoor.The floorwas tiledwithblackmarble, agolden sigil of theHouseofArienal setupon the curvedwall.Iyanna stepped within and looked up to see a tracery of crystal set into thewhiteceiling,muchlikeanasymmetricspider’swebofdiamond.Returninghergazetothesymbol,shereachedoutahand,hesitatingforjustamomentbeforemakingcontact.Her ascent was both swift and without motion. A rush through her souldisconnected mind from body. She was remotely aware of her bodydisassembling even as her spirit was conducted intact along the psychicpathways,tobereunitedwiththereassembledmoleculesofherphysicalforminthe time it took an electron to orbit its nucleus. One instant she had beenstandingat thefootof the tower, thenextshestoodupontheexposedsummit,thewinddraggingatherrobe,thefloorbeneathherfeetcracklingwithsparksoftransporterenergy.

Thevertigohitherwhenshetookastep,threateningtotopplehertothepaleyellowslabs.Closinghereyesdidnothelp,servingonlytoincreasethedizzyingspin thatmade it feel that her brainwas rotatingwildlywithin her head. Sheinsteadfixedhergazeonapointofsilvery lightfarbelow–theghost-hazeofYvraine.When the near-seizure had passed, Iyanna straightened, using the spear forbalance.Therooftopwasroughlyfortypacesacross,quitedevoidofarchitectureordecoration,saveforanothersigilofArienalcarvedintoahexagonalflagstoneatthecentre.Iyannasteppedquicklytowardsit,butstillatapace’sdistancemetasoftbutunyieldingforcethatwouldnotallowhertostepuponthestone.Shetriedfromdifferentdirections,butoneachoccasionwasmetbythesamesubtlebutimpenetrablebarrier.Onattemptingoncemore topush through the force, Iyanna ledwithher freehand,summoningherspiritenergyintoanimbusofwhiteflameaboutherfist.Thoughshewasnomoresuccessfulthanearlier,sherealisedthattheresistancehadhardenedasshehadtriedtobringherotherhandcloser–thehandholdingtheSpearofTeuthlas.‘Jealous ghosts,’ shemuttered, setting aside the weapon, heirloom of a rivalHouse.When she tried again the resistancewas gone and she steppedupon the sigilwithout effort. For several heartbeats, Iyannawaited, unsurewhat to do next.TheHouseofArienalhadbeenthetraditionalwatchkeepers,sincethefoundingof Iyanden,but the rolehadswiftlybecomeceremonialasotherdevelopmentshadovertakentheancientsecuritysystem–notleasttheadventofthePathandthe emergence of the farseers. Other than certain items of regalia, nothingremainedofthatduty.IyannanotedsourlyaparticularabsenceofinstructionsorevenfamilylegendconcerningtheactivationofArieach.‘IamIyanna,oftheHouseofArienal,lastofthewatchkeepers,’shewhispered.Nothinghappened.She repeated the words, louder, twice more until she was shouting into thegentlewind,butwithouteffect.‘Thinkaboutit,’shetoldherself,turningonherheel,seekinginspiration.‘Youareanalarmsystem.Thewatchkeeperwouldcomehere and…what?Ask forhelp?’ItmadenosenseandIyannafeltfoolish.ThethoughtofreturningtoYvraineinfailuresetshameburningthroughher.Beneathher feet, the sigilglimmered in response, fleckingwithgoldand red

for a fewheartbeats. Iyanna felt amomentof triumphand thedancing specksfadedalmostimmediately.‘Ofcourse,youfool!’Sheletherthoughtspeelawayfromthefoldsofhermind,sendingtendrilsofenquiryintothepsychiccircuitbeneathherfeet.Thenetworkwasverysimple,attunedtoasingularemotion.Fear.Intimesofancientdanger,thewatchkeeperwouldindeedbesteepedinfear.Heorshewouldnotevenneedtobroadcastsuchathing,thedetectorwasactivelyseekingthepalpitationsand psychicdissonanceofdread.Sohowwouldoneactivatethesystem,cominginthecoldlight?Fearwas the key, and just the thought ofwhat she had to domade Iyanna’sheart tremble,her trepidationelicitinganother responsefromthesigilkey, thisreinforcingherbeliefofwhatwasneeded.Iyannasethershoulders,bracedher legs,closedhereyesanddelved intohermemories. She slipped past recent recollection, seeking those moments, oneparticularinstance,buriedfarfromcasualgaze.HerbattleswiththeYnnari,hertribulationswiththecouncilflutteredpast,inconsequential.And in the dark of her innermost thoughts lay a locked casket ofmemories,boundbythreadsofsilverdenial,chainedwithloathing.HadYvraineknownthiswaswhatwouldbeneeded?Hadthatbeenthecauseofherwarning?Iyannaknewshewasprocrastinating.With a sudden surge of feeling, she tore open the box and for the first timesinceithadhappenedshelookedagainatthemomentherfamilyhadperished.Not filtered through the haze of the Streets of the Dead, nor distended byspokenwords.Thememoryitselfthetightclusterofdarkstrandsshehadburiedtheinstantithadhappened,pilinggriefandterrorupontherecollectiontoburyitdeeperthanshewouldeverchanceupon.Not names, not thoughts, not any reasoned or logical response.No faces, noscreams,nothingphysical.Theyweresimplysymptomaticof thedarkfire thatlayintheabyssofherdread.Thefeeling.Thestarkandunsulliedmemoryofknowing–knowing ineveryfibre of body and soul – that she was the last of the House of Arienal. Theoblivion thathadopenedbeneathher, thevoid thathadswallowedher insides,thedarknessthathadfallenontoherspirit.Utterloneliness.

Iyannascreamed,lettingfreethepainandsufferingshehadlockedaway,hadneverallowedtoexistforfearthatitwouldconsumeher.Unseen in her moment of psychic agony, the sigil of Arienal burned bright.Brighterthaneverbefore,fuelledbytheexistentialhorrortappedintobyIyanna.White flames consumedher, burning from the flagstone to sear skywards intothedeadair.Thespiritseerstaggeredback,sobbingandheaving,everylimbtrembling.Thebeacon fire raged still, a pillar of pure white that pierced the artificial sky,brighterthanthestars.Coughing and choking on her grief, the spiritseer stumbled to the wall thatboundedtheroofofthetower,tolookacrosstheBarrenlands.Allwasdarknessanddeathstill.Butonlyforaheartbeatmore.In the far distance an answering light shone, a gleam of gold from anothertower,asofthesunshiningonagildedmirror.Sheknewinstantlyfromwhomthesignalcame,therecognitionleapingintoherthoughtsfromthewatchtoweritself:TheHouseofVarinash.Aninstinctdrewhereyetotheleft,toanislandonthefarsideofthebay.Moregoldenlight,gleamingfromacircleofstandingstones:HouseofValor.Andothers still, creepingandgleamingandblazing in response to the fireofArieach, until near and far, from bay to horizon, the landscapewas litwith adozenpillarsofgold, their fires splashedacross theheavens. In their light thegrasslandsseemedalive, theseastossedandvibrant, theairstirredtoagaleintheforceofconvergingenergy.AcrosstheGhostHalls,thedeadawoke.

CHAPTER10

THEDEADHOUSESGATHER

Beneaththetwilightof thecosmosbeyondtheenclosingdomeshield, thegreathallsandtowersofIyanna’shomeweredappledgreyandgreen,shimmeringasthoughinshallowwaters.Notalivingnordeadthingstirred,forofalltheGhostHalls,therealmofArienathwasbereftofallenergy.The hillsides and pale mausoleums that had once held the ancestors of theHouseofArienalwerebrokenrubble,strewnacrossdarkterrainscarredbythedetonationsof the torpedoes that haddestroyed somuchof the infinity circuitandleftIyannaassolesurvivorofherkin.Hastyrepairsbythebonesingershadleftweltsandmoundsofrawcrystalandugly spurs of wraithbone jutting from a landscape that had once been ascarefully composed and sculpted as any artist’s statue.Nowweathered by thegentle but constant breeze, half hidden by the progress of lichens and small-leavedcreepers,thesegrossremindersofthepast’sdestructionloomedasvagueshapes in the distant darkness, numb to the thoughts of the two aeldari thatentered, dead nerve endings, the absence of feedback distracting anddiscomforting.‘Howcanyoulivehere?’askedYvraine.They came upon a high gate, thrice as tall as them between slender blackpillars. Long banners hung down the gateposts, red pennants embroidered inwhitewith runesof theHouse’spast andpresent leaders.Asilver light spreadfrom Iyanna as she stepped closer, snaking along buried conduits within theground, energising the runemetal of the gate itself so that it shone with palesplendour.Itparted,admittingthemsilently,revealingalongwindingroaduptothecentralclusteroftowersandlonghalls.

The tracery of psychic power preceded them, igniting lamps set along theapproachso thatapoolof light followed theirprogress,darkeningagainwhentheyhadpassed.Yvrainefeltthetugofemptyspiritcircuits,naggingathersoul,butalsotryingtodrawforththedeadboundwithinherbythepowerofYnnead.Theleechingwasconstantbutnotoverpowering,anagontheedgeofsensation.Afalsedawnbrokeacrosstheabandonedpalacesandkeeps,broughtforthbythemanipulationofintricateenergyfieldssetinmotionwhenthedomehadfirstbeenerected.Inthegrowinglightofanartificialmorningtheunkempt,desertedgroundsofArienathseemedevenmoredepressing.Thetwilighthadhiddenthedisrepair, inhabiting homes and crofts with shadows, the gloom departing toleaveonlythestarkrealityofutteremptiness.Their route eventually took them to a broad-gated hall, roofed by four bluedomes painted to resemble a summer’s day, holographic clouds drifting lazilyacross their surfaces.Yvraine sawwing fluttersandheard thechirrupof smallbirds,amomentofdelightspringingforthfromthesimplesignoflife.‘Alas,itisnotasitseems,’sighedIyanna.Sheraisedahandandthestreamofpsychicpower thatwentbeforeher recededslightly, slippingback through thepsy-veinsofthehallathercommand.Thedomesdimmedandthespeakersfromwhichtheartificialbirdsonghadsprungforthfellsilent.‘Oh.’Yvrainefeltlikeweeping.ShehadknownforalongtimethefactsofIyanna’scircumstance, and had spent much time with her since their paths had firstcrossed. But there was nothing that could prepare the Opener of the SeventhWayfortheutterabsenceofcompanionshipandhopethatseepedfromthecoldstonesofdeadArienath.‘Thisishowitshallbe,beforeweareReborn,’Iyannatoldher.Thehalldoorsopenedatagesture,thousandsofspiritcandlesflutteredintolifealongthevastchamberwithinas the spiritseer extended thepowerof the soulsbound toherstonesandrunes.‘ThisiswhyIlivehere,asareminderofthecostofsalvation.ThisisbutasingleHouseonasinglecraftworld,atinyechoofwhatbefellthedominions during the Fall. When Ynnead rises, when only the dead remain,thinkofthisplaceforitshallbeeverywhere.’Iyannacasthergazeovertheirsurroundings,faceimpassive.‘Each craftworld and colony, every Exodite planet, eachwebway realm, andeven mighty Commorragh shall not be stirred by the slightest drift of ourexistence. Inourdying, theGreatEnemydies too.Wehavebeendying foranage,Yvraine,butaretooscaredtostepoverthethresholdintothelightbeyond,

thesanctuarythatcomeswhenSheWhoThirstsisconsumedbyherownhunger.Withyou,toopentheSeventhWay,weusherourpeopletowardsafateordainedfivelifetimesago,andthenweshallknowthispeace.’Itwashumbling,putinsuchwords,andYvraineremainedsilentastheyenteredthehall.Bannersoffamilymembersandhouseholdloyaltieshungalongthehall,abovewindows that brightenedwith the burgeoning light of the artificial day.Dust motes danced in the draught of their entry, and through tall pillars andornately carvedbenches thewindwhistled andkeened like a child allowed tounexpectedlyrunfreeinaplacesosolemn.‘Theyare coming,’ Iyannaannounced, leadingYvraine towards a stage set atthe farendof thechamber,between twograndstaircases thatdisappeared intotheupperlevelsofthehall-house.ShedirectedtheOpeneroftheSeventhWaytoathroneononeof thelowerstepswhileascendingtothemostornatechair.Yvraine bridledforamoment.‘IstheEmissaryofYnneadtositdemurelylikesomelady-in-waiting?’Iyanna’sreplywasfirm,borderingonharsh.‘ThisisthegreathalloftheHouseofArienal.Itisanhonourtosituponanystepherein.’Cowed,Yvraine acquiesced and seated herself, spreading out the vastness ofher courtly gown to either side, settling into the high chair.Amoment later asmallsilhouetteappearedatthesunlitdoorway,pausedsniffingtheairandthenscampered within. The gyrinx lay down beside Yvraine, bringing with it acoldnessoftheapproachingdeadthatIyannahadsensedearlier.

The first to heed the call was the House of Delgari, their delegation led byFaenorithSpear-born.Thewraithnoblewasas tall asAlthenian thoughcraftedwith more flared protrusions, flamboyant compared to the lean design of thewarrior-constructsofIyanden.Herpsychoplasticwasastartlingyellowbutforafew narrow tiger-stripes of deep blue and the glitter of psyconductive stones.With Faenorith, her husband-in-life, Daethos Darkwinter, former autarch andheroofmanyadefenceofthecraftworld.AdozenretainerscarriedthebannersoftheirHouse,sixwraithguardhalfastallagain as an aeldari warrior, in the same colours as their lady and lord,wraithcannons and distort-scythes held one-handed at a salute. They werefollowedby sixwraithblades, of similar buildyet bearingpaired swords, theirstandardpolesaffixedtotheirspines.Otherscarriedlonghalberdbladesorpistoland shield, according to the predilections in life and duties in death. They

marched in step, peeling away to one side of the hall at a thought from theirlady-in-death.‘Welcome,HouseofDelgari,’saidIyanna,risingalittlewithatiltofthehead.‘Astraditiondictates,wehaveansweredthesummons,’saidDaethos,speakingfor his wife who stood silent to one side, face turned away with aloofness.‘Impertinencetomakesuchdemandsofthosethathaveearnedeternalrest.’‘What was earnedmight yet need be spent,’ said Iyanna, sitting again. ‘TheHouse of Delgari waneswith each pass, as I see from the dwindling of yourentourage.IfyouwouldseektoavoidthefatethatbefelltheHouseofArienal,youwoulddowelltolistentomyrequest.’‘Fewenoughremaintodoso,’LadyFaenorithsaidsharply,hervoiceechoingdownthehallthoughshestilldidnotturntofaceIyanna.‘Butifyouspeak,weshalllisten.’Itwasnot longbefore twoothersarrived, thecontingentsfromtheHousesofHaladesh and Valor, arriving together not out of alliance but rivalry, neitherfamilywishingtoconcedetheirplacetotheother.Fortunately,thegreathallwasable to accommodate both, a trio of wraithnobles from each, with attendantsarraigned in the colours of their Houses and bearing the gonfalons thatcustomarily flewfromthe topof their towers.Thecrashof their footfalls rangalongthehallandback,thetwocompaniesnotquiteinstepwitheachothersothat the reverberations clashed and crossedwith their progress. Itwas a reliefwhenbothpartiesstoppedbeforethestage,immobileasonlythedeadcanbe.‘TheHouseofArienalextends itsprotection to its renownedvisitors,’ Iyannaannounced before the respective representatives engaged in any kind of pettyrivalry concerningwhowould be addressed first. Shewas careful to raise herhandsinwelcometoboth,beforeturningherattentiontoAgariamoftheHouseof Valor. His wraithform was slight, barely taller than the artifices of hisretainers, amidnight blue that flaredwith ornate yellow starbursts. ‘Long hasbeenthealliancebetweenArienathandtheLandsoftheGreyRiver,’sheturnedswiftly to Sophiorith of Haladesh, ‘and pleasing it is to see the regent of theClearheavensattendwithequalvigour.’‘As in times past, so now,’ said Agariam, bending a knee slightly insupplication,hislongghostsilktabardtouchingthefloorforafleetingmomentbeforeherose.‘TherearethoseintheGhostHallsthatarenotsimplycontenttobroodoverpastgloriesnormournthedeprivationsofthepast.Youarethelastofyourline,Valorlamentsthatnonecarrythemortalburdenforus,butwewillnotabandontheliving.’

Thewordswerewell-meantbutstungIyanna.TheHouseofValorhadnolivingmembers, but the ranks of its dead were plentiful. She would have gladlyswappedherownmortal existence if itwould return the lost spiritsofherkinandancestors.But theyweregone forever, thedeadand the livingannihilatedalikebythesinglechancestrokeoffateandspite.‘New glories await the brave-hearted,’ declared Sophiorith, her voice edgedwith thenotesofaclarion,distinctanduplifting.She turnedslightly,directingeveryone’sattentiontothetallfigurethathadslippedunannouncedtothewidedoors.Smallershapes–runesymbols–orbitedthefigurewithanerraticlifeoftheirown. ‘Thoughhehasabandonedany rankofcommand tobe included inthis call-to-arms, there is another of House Haladesh that would hear yourentreatyandoffercounsel.’‘Kelmon Firesight is always assured of an ear to listen to his advice,’ saidIyanna, formally inviting him across the thresholdwith a raised hand. ‘Had ImoretimeIwouldhavesentworddirecttothefamedwraithseer.’Kelmonenteredwith long strides, ribbonsofbrightlyembroidereddarkclothtrailingfromhisgoldenwraithboneshell,hisrune-shapesfollowingaheartbeatlaterlikeinattentiveunderlings.‘NotforfivegenerationshasthebeaconofArieachbeenlit,’saidthewraithseeras he advanced, his rune-tethers and floating talismans casting their own lightand shadows in the rising dawnlight. ‘Though the galaxy is a place of manywoes, I have foreseenno specific threat to Iyanden thatwouldwarrant such aremarkable–andsingular–event.’‘Thethreatisever-present,honouredone,’saidYvraine.Nothing was said but her intervention was met with a wave of hostility; astiffening of limbs and necks if such a thing was poss ible with the mainlyimmobilewraith-beings. A torrent of distaste, irritation and outright antipathywashed through the hall, accompanied by the whispered moans of agitatedspirits.‘ThisisaconclaveoftheGreatHouses,’LadyFaenorithsaidarchly.‘Itiscrasstobringoutsiders,nevermindforonetoexpecttoofferopinion.’‘Imakenoapology,’ said Iyanna,beforeYvrainecould retort andworsen thesituation. ‘Though in tradition we have assembled there is nothing traditionalabout this assemblage. As Kelmon has alluded, only once shall I make thissummons,forIamthelastofmyHouse,andyouarethedeadofyours.Whenallhavecome,Ishallsharemypurpose,butnotbefore.Untilthen,youextendtoYvraineeverycourtesyyouextendtome,orconsideryourselvesunwelcomeat

theseproceedings.’Thewordsseemedmildbut theeffectwasprofound.ItwasunthinkableforaHouse to be turned away in such an extraordinary circumstance. Though thedead,forthemostpart,caredverylittleaboutanything,thosethatstillretainedsomesemblanceoftheirformeridentities–thereveredsuchasLadyFaenorithandSophiorithandAgariamandtheothersthatwouldcome–werestillaeldariandputgreatstorebyreputation,bothpersonalandfamilial.Withlittleelse todistractthemfromtheeonoftheirexistence,saveretreatintosullensomnolence,politicking and gossip were as rife among the scions of the Ghost Halls asanywhereelsewithintheaeldarikindreds.Scandalwasaconstantthreat,thoughthe participants were now far removed from day-to-day concern. When onemightmeet one’s ancestors abroad on the spirit conduits, or conjured into ananimatedwraithbonebody,itbehovesonetokeeptheHousenameunblemishedorsufferamortifyingdegreeofshame.Chastened by such thoughts, thewraithnobles said and did nothing, allowingIyannatocontinue.‘Thethreatisexistential,unyieldingifnotimmediate.Opportunityhasarisen,whichIshalldiscusswhenallarepresent,forourpeopletotakeastepforwards.Long we have resisted in retreat to the constant assaults of the aliens anddaemons,tosurviveandelude,andeludetosurviveagain.’ShegesturedtowardsYvraine.‘OnedoesnotneedtolivetobecomeReborn.ThroughYnneadanycanjointhecausethatwillseeourpeoplesfinallysetfreeoftheeternalcurse.’‘Youofferlifetothedead?’Kelmontookastride,onegiantfootalmostuponthe lowest step, his rune-orbited frame casting a shadow over Yvraine. ‘Becarefulofwhatyoudesire,fornotallthingsofferedaregifts.’Iyannawasnotsureiftheselastwordsweredirectedtoherorthewraithnobles,butdecidedtoanswerregardless.‘Deathisasurety,thatallherehavetouchedandknown.’Shestoodandraisedher hands, commanding psychic wave flowing from her, bidding the dead toremain silent. ‘When all have come thatwill come, then suchmatterswill bediscussed.’

CHAPTER11

WRAITHCOUNCIL

And discussed suchmatters were, inmuch detail and great length.When theadvocates for the Houses of Divinesh and the lesser estates arrived, thewraithcouncilbeganinearnest.MuchwassaidofIyanna’sright,orlack,tohaveconvened the gathering at all, and though no agreement was reached on thataccount,withKelmon’s guidance itwas accepted that since they had all beendisturbedandgathered,theymightaswellusetheopportunity.Yvraine fretted for some time, impatient but silent, occasionally calmed by apulseof reassurancefromIyanna,whoseemedcontent toallowthedead lordsand ladies of Iyanden towaylay proceedings to bring up ancient rivalries andslights,unfulfilledoathsandpromisesonlyhalfkept.Theaeldariexcelatsuchmoralrecord-keeping,evenastheyarepooratmaintainingtheirownhonourandvirtue,and their longmemoriesonlydeepensuchdividesonoccasion.For thedead, who recalled not only the deficiencies of others for a lifetime but alsothose of their ancestors and descendants for five generations, some of whomwere present if notwith the capacity to vocalise their own defence, any largegathering of the Houses was an opportunity to air grievances at wrongs thatshouldhavelaidtorestwiththespiritsthathadcommittedthem.Yvraineeventuallyrecognisedwhatwasatplay,andwhyIyannaallowedsuchcircular and pointless discussions to continue. Until the councillors had gonethroughmotions of defending and restoring their honour, of dragging out thedetails of past misdemeanours, any new business would inevitably getsidetracked.TheOpenerof theSeventhWay remembered thatevenspiritsasanimatedasKelmon,Sophiorith andDaethoswerebound to the rituals established in their

lives.Lesser souls stoodguard for cycle after cycle, never once straying fromtheir post, or performed attendant duties in the empty halls and chambers,preparing for guests that never arrived or tending to the needs ofmasters andmistressesthathaddiedthreelifetimespreviously.The council was nothing more than a ceremony, to exercise the spirits andexorcisetheirdifferences.Stuckwithinawraith-lockedstasis, theambassadorsof the Ghost Halls could neither deviate nor evolve from their timewornpositions.Becausenothingchangedhere.ManytimeswhenYvrainehadbeenuponthePath,followingthecreedofthecraftworldsas first taughtbyAsurmenandhisdisciples, shehadchafedat thediscipline and confinesnecessitatedby strict adherence to theprotocols of thesystem.Shehadmovedfrompathtopath,asaperformerandwarrior,warlockandpleasure-seeker,buthadneverfeltcomfortable.Hertimeamongthecorsairsof theLanathiralle, when she had broken free of Biel-tan under the guise ofAmharoc,hadshownheragalaxybeyondtheboundaries,andthathadnotbeenenough.Only in Commorragh, in the deathduels of the Crucibael and the evenmoredeadlypoliticsofthekabalshadYvraineknown,perversely,asenseofpeace.Intheanarchyandconstantmotionofshiftingalliances,pactsandcontracts,therewas a centre, an eye of the storm she had come to occupy so that allmovedaboutherwhilesheremained.HerfellowCommorraghanshadalwayslaughedatthecraftworlders,accusingthemofbeinglockedinaprison,unabletoaffecttheuniversearoundthem.Theywerenotfree,saidthefolkoftheDarkCity,andinthethoughtlessposturingandargumentofthewraithkind,YvrainesawwhattheCommorraghanshadlongsuspected.Even so, she had looked upon the kabalites and wyches and seen them asequallytrappedintheracetokeepaheadoftheirowndoom.Therewasnolessaself-destructivecycleintheploysandmachinationsofthedarklordsandladiesastherewastheroteandtraditionofthecraftworlds.Neithersawthecagetheyhadfashionedaroundthemselves,oneforcedtosurviveonlyastepawayfromSheWhoThirsts,theothertoremainoutofHersight.Ynneadwouldchangeeverything.Hadalreadychangedeverything.AnagehadcomeandgonebetweentheriseoftheGreatEnemyandtheadventofYnnead,andtheWhisperingGodcouldwaitalittlelonger,hisemissarytoldherself.Butitwasnoteasy.

‘Thewheelof thecosmoshas turned,’ Iyannabegan,when thesumof theoldargumentshadsettledandthecouncilwasreadytoproceedontofreshground.ThefakestarofArienathhadpasseditszenith,itsgoldenlightnowspreadfromthewindows on the opposite side of the hall. Long experience had taught thespiritseer that thedeadwouldneverbeswift, in thoughtoract,butshehadaninklingthatonceraisedhermatterwouldberesolvedwithoutdelay.‘Anancientcompanion,longtakenfromus,hasreturned,’shecontinuedwhenshefeltthepsychicbuzzoftheirattentionuponher.Eventheretainerswereableto focus, latching onto the thoughts of the living farmore than the ephemeralpresenceof theirfellowdead,nomatterhowlordlyandstronginlife theyhadbeen.‘CraftworldZaisuthra,whichoncepassedbeyondtheveiloftherim,hasreturnedtotheknownsystems.We,thatisthefollowersofYnnead,believethatZaisuthra is home to theGateofMalice, oneof the firstwebwayportals evercreated.’‘Iknowofthisportal,’saidAgariam.‘Orofitslegend,whichisolderstillthananycraftworld. It leads toaplaceofstrife, Iyanna.Youandyourcohortsmaycleave to death, but to pass the Gate ofMalice is a doom that even Ynneadcannotsaveyoufrom.’‘Agariamspeaksthetruth,’saidKelmon.Articulatedfingersflexedinstrangeways,summoningaclusterofrunestocircleaboutthehand.Iyannarecognisedseveral, themost potent and bright of which was the Rune of Khaine, whichflickeredwithorangefire.Theseerpointed toYvraine. ‘You think toopen theWelloftheDead.’‘ItisourhopethattheTombofEldaneshholdsthelastoftheFingersofMorai-Heg,’ admitted the Opener of the SeventhWay. ‘Or can lead us to the placewhereitisfound.’‘Wedonotknowwhat toexpect there,nor ifZaisuthra iswilling toallowusentry,’saidIyanna.‘ThenumbersoftheYnnarigrowandfadeliketheseasons,asmorecometoourcauseandsomeareslaininitspursuit.Evennow,inwaxingstrength,wedonothave thepower toconfrontawholecraftworld.Wecannotlooktothelivingforaid,fortheyareblindtothetruththatYnneadwillfreeusall.’‘Soyouthinktopersuadethedead?’askedDaethos.‘Ipersuadenothing,’Iyannasaidquietlybutfirmly.‘Idemand.TheBeaconofArieach is lit, the call has been put forth.Ancient oathswere sworn on thosestones,longoverdue.’‘Oathsgiven to theHouseofArienal,’ contestedSophiorith. ‘Notyou.Oaths

nowofthedead.’‘Iam theHouseofArienal,’ Iyanna told them, standingup.A lambent flameplayedaboutherbody, aghostfireofpaleblue andpurple. ‘I lit thebeacon, Idemandtheanswer.Morethanthat,IgranttheeternaldeadthisopportunitytostandalongsidetheYnnariandreceivetherewardsoftheWhisperingGod.’‘Which one of you would not choose to again walk clad in the flesh of amortal?’saidYvraine.Shestoodalsoandsteppeddownontothefloor,hergownand cloak flowing behind in undulating waves as she paced between thetowering constructs, undaunted by their age and size. ‘What soul desires thisneverlifeexistenceforever?Notyou,theprouddeadofIyanden.Thelivingclingtothebrokenpromisesofthepast,thatthecraftworldswillsavethem.Theywillnot.ThegalaxyshuddersbeneaththetormentoftheGreatRift,tornasunderbytheDarkGods.Nocraftworldalonecanstandagainstthestormthathasbroken.Iyanden…’Shestopped,catchingherbreath,calmingherrhetoriclestshecauseinsult. ‘Iyanden has already sufferedmuch, and can suffer nomore. You cancondemnyourhometoawithering,slowdemise,whenthedead thatguard itshalls already outnumber the living. Or you can strike forth. You can raise upyourHouses,putforththecalltoarmsasinthetimesofthedominions’height,wheneventhoseforgottenwithinthesewallsfrozestarswithacommandandlitthevoidwith their thoughts.That power can rise again, theReborn can claimbackwhat belongs to the aeldari. If we do not, thenwe surrender, meek andcowardly,andnothingmore.’‘TheHouseofValorwouldansweryes,’saidAgariam,takingupagoldenspearthatwasheldbyoneofhisretainers.‘WehavediedonceforIyanden,wewoulddieathousandtimesmoreifneeded.’‘Youmisunderstand,youdeadfool,’saidSophiorith.‘WewouldbeabandoningIyanden to join these vagrants. She is asking us to lead our Houses from theGhostHalls,notindefenceofsomeattackagainstourhomes.ShewouldhaveuschoosetheWhisperingGodoverourpeople.’‘EachHouseisapoweruntoitself,’saidLadyFaenorith.‘TheHouseofDelgariwould follownonebutme, and I bow tono living liege.There is not anoblehere thatwould say otherwise.Oneof usmaymake alliance, but not all.Toomanyaretheslightsofthepasttoputaside,evenforyou,Iyanna.’‘Kelmon,Iwouldaskyou,battleseerofthehighestrenown,toleadthishost,’said Iyanna. ‘None is held in higher respect among the Ghost Halls, andalongsideMeliniel,thegreatstrategistofBiel-tan,thereisnotapestryofvictoryyoucannotweavefromthethreadsoffate.TheHouseswouldnotfightforme,

norYvraine,butfortheWhisperingGodHimself,asguidedbytherunesoftheirown.’‘Yourwordsareflattering,Iyanna,butyouaskmuch,’saidthewraithseer.Heturned to theothersof theghost council. ‘Iwillnot speak for all, and toeachGhostHallisleftthechoice.ToeachwithintheHouses,Isayfurther,forthisisnotacallofallegianceortestofloyalty.ThosethatdepartwithYvrainecrossathreshold.IseeahundredfatesseveredfromIyanden,ahundredfatestiedtotheruneoftheWhisperingGod.Oneisananchor,theotheracurrent.Onewillholdyou firm, but alwayswithin the same place. Onewill take you into the openwaters,tofreedomoratreacherousend.’‘ThereisanotherHousethathasnotspoken,’saidDaethosDarkwinter.‘Eldestofall,mostregardedofall.Ishallmakenodecisionerewelearnoftheirmood.’‘An opinion that we shall learn soon,’ said Iyanna, sensing the approach ofanother contingent, one that had not been counted among the originalHouse-electofArieach.

Ashadowfellover thegroup.The spirithost turnedasone, theair thickwithsuddenenergy. Iyannafelt thesensationasapricklingof theskin,aheat fromrunes,stonesandspear.YvraineshudderedasthecoldtouchofYnneadpassedthroughher.Somethingeclipsed the lightbeyondthehighwindows,movingsteadilyfromthe head of the hall towards the doors. The stretch of shade slid across thecouncil firstand thendancedalong the ranksofunmovingattendants,bendingacrosswraithbonelimbs,stilledbannersandblankdomesoftheirheads.An aeldari appeared, framedby the light of thedoorway, a staff in onehandtippedbytheRuneofUlthanesh.Shehelduptherodofoffice,theheadofthestaffglowingevenagainstthelightoftheartificialsun.Intheilluminationshewasrevealed,cladinmanylayersofsilkthatcoveredherlegsandtorso,thoughherarmswerebare.Theskintherewasmarkedinscarletandblack,withdesignsoftheworldserpentwoundaboutthefabledspearofherHouse’sfounder.‘I am Aedressa, voice-warden of the House of Ulthanesh,’ she called, voiceclearandloud,amplifiedbyasystemsetwithinhergarb.‘EvenintheHallsoftheStarlitCitadel the lightof thefiresofArieachreach.Though theHouseofUlthanesh is not bound by the treaties of Arieach, my Lord Aethon wouldaddresstheassembled council.’‘Andgladlywewillmeetwithhim,’said Iyanna, thoughperhapsshedidnotrightlyhavetheauthoritytospeakforall.Nonecounteredher,allthesame.She

strodedownfromtheraisedplatform,Yvrainejoiningherattheloweststep,anddown the hall. The wraithnobility followed, their long strides keeping pacewithout effort. The heads of the wraith-ranks turned and followed as theydepartedintothesquareoutside.Stoopingthroughagatewayastallasatower,awraithknightsteppedoutontotheconcourse,itstreadnolouderthanthatofthecouncilmembers.LordAethonwastothewraithlordsastheyweretotheaeldari,fullthricetheirheight, slender limbs fashioned from a wraithbone skeleton beneath brightyellow and deep blue psychoplastic plates, its energymatrix buzzingwith thepowerofadeadsoul.Aswordtwiceastallasoneofthewraithbladeguardsofhonourhungatthewaist,ascalloped-edgeshieldupontheleftarm.Unliketherevenant lords and ladies of theGhostHalls, thewraithknightwas not simplysomeghostwarrior,drivenonlybythewillofthepassed.Withinthecurveofthelargeheadwasacockpitwithalivingpilot,twinbrothertothedepartedsoulthattraversedthecrystalcircuitsofthemassivewarengine.Orsowasusuallythecase,butnotwithLordAethon.Uniqueamongitskind,changed by the blessing of Ynnead bestowed upon it by Yvraine, theSoulseeker’screwweretwospiritsintheonemortalshell,thedeadtwinAshodhrebornintohisbrother,Aethon.‘Soulseeker,’ saidYvraine, breaking ahead of the otherswith an outstretchedhand, a flash of gladness at the arrival of thewraith knight. ‘It is good to seeyou.’‘Andyoualso,OpeneroftheSeventhWay.’Theimmensewarmachinekneltasgracefullyasalivingaeldari,holdingoutapalmtowardsYvraine.Shelaidbothof her hands upon a huge fingertip. The head, painted with faint swirls in adarkershadeagainsttheyellow,turnedtoIyanna.‘OurLadyofArienath.WhenIheardthatyouhadlitthefireofArieach,wehadtocome.’‘Andwearegladofit,’saidLadyFaenorith.‘Thecouncilwasjustagreedthatthe opinion of the heirs of Ulthanesh should be heard before we make adecision.’‘Andtowhatpurposearethecouncil’sthoughtsturned?’askedtheSoulseeker.Hewithdrewhishandandstraightened,plungingthemintofreshshadow.‘Notlightlyisthebeaconlit,butnoalarmhascometousfromtheseersorautarchs.’‘Aquest,’saidIyanna.‘TheYnnari desire us to quit Iyanden and hunt theGate ofMalice on somenew-returnedcraftworld,’saidAgariam.Ashudderofdispleasedenergypulsed from thewraithknight.Yvraine tooka

step back, repulsed by thewave, and Iyanna felt it as a hotwind beneath herskin.‘YouseektheWelloftheDead.’Aethon’sproclamationwasladenwithsinisterundertone, his artificially modulated voice accompanied by a fresh psychicdistortion.‘ThetombofEldanesh.’‘That is true,’ saidYvraine. ‘Wehope that itmightbringuscloser to the lastcroneswordoftheFiveFates.’‘AraiserofthedeaddesirestoenterthetombofEldaneshandyouexpectustobelieveyouareonlylookingforasword?’Thewraithknightpivotedslightly,thenextwordaddressedtothecouncilmembers.‘Arenotthesetheverysamethatpluckedfromthejawsofdeaththehumanprimarch?Didtheynotsethimuponapedestaltoruleoveranewempireofhumans?’‘Thatwasnot–’beganYvraine,butAethoncontinuedwithoutanyconcessiontoherreasoning.‘OurownPrinceYriel,highnobleoftheHouseofUlthanesh,knowswellthecost thatcomeswiththefavoursofYvraineof theYnnari.Hetoonowhashissoul sworn to theWhisperingGod, thoughheneverasked for sucha fate.Wewould not seeEldanesh returned and set upon a throne abovemyHouse, andwouldurgeallotherstoresistlikewise.’‘The rivalry between your founders is ancient history,’ snapped Yvraine. ‘AlegendbeforeeventhetimeoftheFall,predatingthedominionsandallelseofimport.EveninmythUlthaneshandEldaneshmadegoodtheirdivisionandtheirHousesreunited.Pledgetothiscause,Aethon,sothatthegladnessIbroughttoyouwiththereturnofyourbrothermightbegiventoothers.’‘Wedidnotunderstandthattheboonyougaveuswasadebttoberepaid.’‘Itwasnot,’saidYvraine,losingherpatience.‘ButshortisthememoryoftheHouseofUlthaneshifitforgetsthosethatsoaideditinthepast.’‘Long is the memory of the House of Ulthanesh, that it knows still thatEldanesh turned from their father-lord when he greatest needed a brother-in-spirit. Khaine struck downEldanesh and sealed the fate of us all. Youwouldunbind that seal and unleash terror and horror unimaginable. TheWell of theDeadmustremainshut!’This stirred quite a reaction from the council, who at once began talking atcrosspurposes,theargumentswiftlydividingthemintotwocamps.Iyannatriedherbesttokeepthediscussioncalm,butYvrainewasafirebrand,arguingforhercause,herirestokedbywhatshesawasbetrayalbyLordAethon.The Soulseeker announced his intention to leave, through his voice-warden,

making it a formal declaration of his opposition. Yet before he departed, thewraithknightknelttospeakalonetoYvraine.Shecouldfeelthetwinsoulsofthebrothersnestledbehindtheopaquecanopy,thetwoasone,yetindividualalso.‘Idonotwishustobeenemies,’shesaid,herangercoolingatthethoughtoflosing the friendship of the Soulseeker. ‘I thought you true to the rise ofYnnead.’‘ToYnnead,yes,weare,’repliedthetwins.‘But this isnot therightcauseorcourse.Wearestillallies,Yvraine,andourbladeisstillsworntotheserviceoftheWhisperingGod.Butinthis,asaLordoftheHouseofUlthaneshalso,wecannotaidyou,andifthatmeanstheoathbetweenusisforfeit,thatwillhavetobeso.’‘Thepactisnotbroken,’Yvrainesaid,heartheavy.‘Notbymywish,atleast.IcannotsaythatIagree,butIdounderstand.’‘And that is all thatwecanhaveat thismoment.’Thewraith knight stoodupanddrewhisimmenseswordinsalute,itsbladeliquidgoldinthedyingsunlight.With Aedressa at his side, Aethon turned and left, followed by severalcontingentsfromthewraith-houses.Yvraine and Iyanna eyed those that remained,whowould be counted amongtheirexpeditiontoZaisuthra.‘LessthanIhadhoped,’admittedIyanna.‘Allthatweneed,’counteredYvraine.

CHAPTER12

THEDEADMARCHFORTH

Slowtheymarched,slowbutimplacable.Forthebetterpartofacycletheparadeofthewraithscontinued,fromtheGateofSoulstotheharbourspiresknownastheCrucibleofBeginningsandEndings.Thechillofthegravesurroundedthecolumnofyellow,scarletandblackthatadvanced through the halls and streets of Iyanden.The airmisted, the groundrimedby theghost-frost of their passing.Among the swirls ofvapour loomedindistinctfaces,silentspectreswrituponthecoldair.Nosoundaccompaniedthesolemnprocessionofscarletwraithguard,wraithbladesandwraithlords,theruneofYnneadinblackuponthedomesoftheirheads.At their fore came Yvraine, flanked by Althenian, with other Houselesswraithlords such as Torestor the Shadowhammer, Wintersword of the WhiteShoresandFaristarDanceblade,andbehindfollowedthenoblesofthreemajorGhost Halls, the pennants of their dead Houses hanging from weapons andcurving vanes. And the leaders of seven lesser allied to them. Arranged incompanies like the households of long dead knights, the wraithblades andwraithguard came forth bearing standards of their liche-lieges, the runes ofDivinesh and Valor and Haladesh flying above in the psychic wash of theirpassing.Amongthestridinggiantsweresplashesofyellow–thespiritseersofIyanden,a shadowcouncil gathered by Iyanna to help guide thewaking dead from theGhostHallstotheshipsoftheYnnari.Sheherselfwasthelastintheadvancingspirithost,herthoughtsanchoringthedisparatesensesofthedeceased,aconduitforthefocusingpoweroftheinfinitycircuit.NewsspreadquicklyoftherousingoftheGhostHalls’retinues.Notsincethe

GreatDevourerandtheattacksoftheRottedOneshadthedeadbeenrousedinsuchnumbers.Thenewswasgreetedwithpanicatfirst,forparanoiaoffurtherassaulthadbeenforemostinthemindsoftheIyandeniforthirtythousandcyclessince.YettheAvatarofKhainehadnotstirred,theinfinitycircuitdidnotthrumtothemartialbeatoftheBloody-Handedone’sironheart.Curiosity replaced dread and thousands turned out towatch the deadmarch,and as word spread further, more travelled from the distant parts of thecraftworlduntilthecrowdsswelledtothetensofthousands.There were murmurs of unease from some, speaking their fear that Yvrainerobbed Iyanden of its defenders. Some, those with the dubious honour ofconnections to the seer council, even shouted their protest and accusations oftheft,theusualdecorumofcraftworlddebateforgottenintheflushofemotion.Then came other Iyandeni to call out encouragement and blessings upon theexpedition.Someworearmbandsorheadscarvesofscarlettoshowtheirfavourfor theOpenerof theSeventhWay,orboreamuletsandotherdevicessetwiththeruneofYnneadinpreciousgemsandsparklingmetals.Heated exchanges and shouting matches broke out in places, though thesealtercationswere quickly quelled by neutral bystanders. The observers rangedfromthecasuallyidletotheaffecteddisdainful,youngsterswhohadneverseenaspirithostonthemove,andtheelderswhohadseenittoooftenandmuttereddarklyofportentsanddireomens.Along crowd-lined avenues and across raisedgalleries to the docks the armyproceeded. Their passing calmed all agitation, the reminder of the fate of allmortalsstiflingeventhemostlividopponentandardentsupport.Tolookuponthewakingdeadwastoseeboththepastandthefutureinone;thewickedandnobleofgenerationspastandthefatethatdoubtlessnowwaitedforallIyandeni.ThelivingmembersofthoseHousesthatpassedmarkedthemselveswithrunesofremembranceandhelduptokensandheirlooms,hopingtocatchsomehintofrecognitionfromthespiritwarriors.Sobsandjoyfulgaspsgreetedtheoccasionalturnofaheadorpsychiccaressfromwraithkinsharingamomentaryclarity.Theyarrivedatabroadsweepofagallerythatlookedoutuponthestarquays,lit by the faint light of distant galaxies and the navigational pulses ofYnnaritransports docked at the boarding pilasters. The transport fleet of Ynnead’schosenwasaseclecticasthosethatcrewedthem.Craftworldmerchantmenandrangerdhowsslippedpastarmedpleasureyachtsandformerdrukhariblockade-runners.In the space beyond waited the rest of the Ynnari flotilla. Here were two

battleships, hulls brightly patterned beneath the flicker of idling holofields.Smaller cruisers with solar sails furled along their dorsal decks, the hint ofgoldenphotonicreceptorsglintingagainsttheblackofopenspace.Furtherout,tacking back and forth among the traffic of Iyanden’s space lanes waited ahandfulofdestroyersandfrigates,lightlyarmedbutswift–webwaysmugglersfromCommorraghandelegantcorsairsloops.

At the gates of the docks a contingent sent from the seer council met them,headedby IyastaandTelathaus.Theycameaccompaniedbyseveral squadsofyellow-cladguardians,ahandfulofwaveserpenttransportsattheirback.NotsofarawayMelinielandanassortmentofYnnariaspectwarriorsandHarlequinswatchedtheIyandenicarefully,butknewbetterthantointerferedirectly.Beforeheading for theGhostHalls,Yvrainehadexpressly instructedher followers toavoidantagonisingtheIyandeni,regardlessofprovocation.‘Somany…’Iyasta’shushedwordsbetrayedawebuttheywerefollowedbyamoreacidictonefromTelathaus.‘Youwouldbleedourcraftworlddryofitslastsoulifyouhadthechance.’‘Nonecameexceptoftheirownchoice,’Yvrainereplied.Thesteadycolumnofanimated constructs continuedpast, heads turning towards thewarlocks as thespiritswithindetectedtheirpsychicaura.‘Ynneadisnomasterofcoercion,heisauniter.’‘Notallofuswishaspeedyjourneytothelifelessembraceofourancestors,’saidIyasta.Ablack-glovedhandmotionedfortheguardianstoboardtheirwaveserpents.‘WewillaccompanyyoutoZaisuthra,asagreed,andspeakonbehalfoftheIyandeni.’Iyanna joined them and Telathaus continued, words directed towards thespiritseer. ‘Dhentilnwishesyou toknow that ifyouhinderourmission inanyway, ormove or speak against the best fate of Iyanden, his cordialitywill beextendednofurther.WewillcooperatewiththeYnnariinsofarasitdoesnotruncontrary to our needs, but consider our alliance to be one of convenience andnothingfurther.’‘Hecouldnotdeliverthismessagehimself?’askedIyanna.‘Notallthatturnsintheuniverse–’beganTelathaus.‘–iscentreduponyouractions,’Iyastafinishedtestily,helmlensesflaringredinanger.‘Intheabsenceofsomany,theseercouncilmustworkall thehardertoensurethatnothreatemergesagainstourhome.’‘Butyouhaveshownthatsuchmattersarenolongeraconcernofyours,’added

Telathaus.‘I have seen beyond the veil of death, into the afterlife of the aeldari,’ saidYvraine,hersmileconveyinganythingbutgoodhumour.‘Onecannotescapetheinevitable.OnemustfirstdiebeforeonecanbecometheReborn.Asitisfortheindividual,sotooforallofourpeople.’‘Whilethereislife,thereishope,’counteredthewarlocksinunison.‘Hope, but not victory,’ said Iyanna. ‘Too long we have fought the gallantlosingbattle.’‘Ifyouhaveyourway,victorywillalsomeanthedeathofall,’snappedIyasta.‘Posthumousvictoryissimplydefeatbyanothername,’insistedTelathaus.‘Generationsago,ourpredecessorsdoomedusall,’Iyannarepliedassheturnedand stepped away. The last of thewraithkind passed the arches and ascendedtowardsthewaitingships.‘Inacceptingthat,wefindfreedom.ThatisYnnead’sgift.’Yvraine joinedher and the twoof them followed in thewakeof thewarrior-dead.

CHAPTER13

LOYALTIESTESTED

ItwasasadtruthofIyanna’slifethatalthoughshewasfar-travelledcomparedtomany Iyandeni, she had seen enough conflict and strife upon her homecraftworldtoequalthatofsomeofthewidest-rangingoutcastsandmostdaringkabalite pirates.Despite the accusationsofTelathaus and Iyasta, andher sterndefenceofherconvictionstheyelicited,shelookeduponIyandenwithaheavyheart as the renamed battleship Ynnead’sDream turned towards the immensewebwaygatethatfollowedbehindtheslowlydriftingcraftworld.Respondingtoherunspokendesire,theshimmeringprojectiondiscthathungintheairofherchamberkeptaviewofthecraftworlduntilthemomentYnnead’sDream slipped into thewebwaygate.For the finalmoment thedomed forestsandmountains,theplateausandhills,bridgesandtowersbledintoeachother,sothatallIyannasawwasaclusterofsilvertearsonagoldenplate.Thenitwasgoneandtheprojectordiscshrankintoitself,becomingathin,leaf-shapedsliveroffilmthatdrifteddownintoheropenpalm.AsuiteofroomshadbeenassignedtoherasanhonouredleaderoftheYnnaribut her possessions, nothing more than a travel chest of clothes, books andrunework,fitted into thesmallestchamber.Theotherhalfadozenroomswerebaresaveforthesparsefurnishingsthathadawaitedher.A plain bench with a gently concave seat extruded from the wall at herapproach.Sheturnedandsat,handsinherlap.FromtheadjoiningchambershefeltapulsefromtheSpearofTeuthlas,butsheignoreditsluringcall.Therewasonlyonekindofcompanionshipsheneeded.Iyanna closed her eyes and shifted hermind. Nomatter how far away fromIyandenshewastaken,shewouldneverbemorethanathought’sbreadthfrom

herfamily.‘Hello,LittleMe,’shewhispered.‘Showmeyournewdance.’

Whenstandinguponthecliff’sedge,theonlyproperthingtodoisstepforwardsandhopefor thebest.SoCegorach’sfollowerswouldhaveyoubelieve.Facedwithoverwhelmingodds,youmusthopeforthemonstrouslyimplausibletosaveyou.WithsuchphilosophiestheHarlequinsoftheLaughingGodhavenavigatedtheworst parts of thewebway, dared the lairs of demigods and daemons, andskipped merrily along the strands of fate with a song in their hearts andsomewhatimpishsmileupontheirlips.Onecan therefore imagine theconsternationofYvraine,Meliniel, Iyannaandthe Visarch when they were asked to attend to Idraesci Dreamspear, GreatHarlequinoftheMidnightSorrowandhesaidtothem,‘Weshouldturnback.’TheymetuponYnnead’sDream, among tall fern frondsandshallowpools inoneofthebattleship’sforesthalls.Theairwasthickwithmist,moisturedappledthegailypatternedsuitofthemasque’sleaderashesatcross-leggeduponapaleboulderbesideasmallmere.Theplipofbubblesbreakingonthepool’ssurfaceand the distant trill of small birds marred the silence that greeted thisannouncement.As if in explanation, a darker-garbed figure appeared along the path, clad indeepbluesandpurples,alongbeltofcrimsontrailingfromthewaist.Hermaskwasablanksilver,reflectingthegreenofthefernsandthedarkredofpebblesthat softly crunched underfoot, beneath a hooded cowl of violet and blackdiamonds.TheotherYnnariknewtheshadowseerbyreputationmorethanacquaintance,onaccountofmostoftheirpreviousdealingswiththeMidnightSorrowhavingproceededthroughDreamspearoroneofhistroupemasters.IfDreamspearwasthephysicalrepresentativeofCegorachtheLaughingGod,LaedellinStarshonewasthevoice.On her back the shadowseer wore a credainn, its slender funnels emittingperception-alteringvapours andvibrations.Toonlookers there seemednothingamiss, but unknown the emanations of the shadowseer created a heightenedsense of awareness invoked by the hallucinogenic properties of the dream-conjurer.Suchdisplayswereusuallytoinduceasenseofgreaterinvolvementinthemasque’sperformances,ortoinvokedreadorparanoiaintheenemy,butonthisoccasionthereasonwassimplytoimpressandmesmerise.Inonehand,Starshoneheldabaton,whichshetwirledbetweenherfingers,its

crystal head flashing a circular rainbow about her wrist. Coruscating coloursreflectedacrosshermirrormask,creatingrippledimpressionsofgrotesquefaces.‘The roads end,’ announced the Harlequin mind-gifted. She paused for aheartbeat,bowedslowlywithrodsweptacrossherchestintheatricalstyle,andpivotedonaheeltowalkaway, messagedelivered.‘Is that supposed to be an explanation?’ said Meliniel. He scowled atDreamspear.‘Youwantustocancel thewholeexpeditiononthebasisof threewords?’TheGreatHarlequinremainedsilentandimmobile.Starshonestopped,heelofonefootandtoeoftheotheruponthepath,frozeninmid-stride.Shetwistedatthewaist and turnedherhead, theposeunnaturalbut still an imageofperfectbalance even among the dexterous aeldari. Her facewas positioned in such away that each of the others saw in her blank visage the distorted, swollenreflectionofacompanion.‘Theroadsend,’shesaidagain,therestofherbodyslowlyswivellingtocatchup with head and shoulders. ‘All roads. The webway. Life. Hope. There isnothingbeyond.WecannotreachZaisuthra.’‘NothingisimpossibletotheHarlequins,’saidYvraine.‘Youwillfindaway.’‘Idonotwish to,’saidStarshone. ‘Thedeathofmirth isall thatawaits thosethatcontinueonthisjourney.’‘TheHarlequinsof theLaughingGodfearnothing,’ saidMeliniel. ‘Or is thatjustmockeryaswell?’‘Donotgoadus,’saidDreamspear.‘Itisnotfearthatstallsourwillingness.Itisinevitability.Cegorachventureswherehewill,ashewill,withoutrestraint.Buthekeepsaneyeuponthewayout,allthesame.Ifwecontinue,thereisnowayback.’AnyresponsewascurtailedbytheapproachofIyastaandTelathaus.Thetwowarlocks of Iyanden arrived behind Starshone, and stopped when theshadowseerspuntowardsthem.‘Whatisthemeaningofthiscouncilwithoutus?’demandedIyasta.‘Wearetobepartytoalldiscussion,’saidtheotherwarlock.‘Ididnotinviteyoubecauseyouwillbeevenmoretiresomethanmycurrentcompanions,’ saidDreamspear. ‘But for your benefit, I have declared that weshallguideyounofurtherthroughthewebway.WedonotdesiretosetfootuponZaisuthra.’‘Weshallnot,’insistedStarshone.‘Alittlelatetomakesuchadecision,’growledtheVisarch.

Dreamspear andStarshone shrugged in unison, themovement both impudentand all the explanation the others would receive. At the best of times thewanderersontheforgottenpathareaboveexplainingtheirmotivestoothers,andwhen pressed, take pleasure in being obtuse. The Shadowseer and GreatHarlequinwerenoexception.‘WhatcanIofferthatwillmakeitworthwhile?’saidYvraine.‘Donotbargainwith them,’ saidMeliniel. ‘Theirwordsareasemptyas theyarepretty.NevertrustaHarlequin.’‘I would be offended,’ said Dreamspear. He clutched a hand to his chest asthough struck through the heart, and slipped gracefully from the boulder tostagger a few exaggerated steps across the path in comical death throes thatbroughthimface-to-facewiththeautarch.TheGreatHarlequinstraightenedandstaredatMeliniel,crossinghisarmsdefiantly.‘Ifnotfortheuttertruthofwhatyouspeak.IcareevenlessforyourtrustthanIdoyourgoodintentions.’‘Wemustcontinue–’‘–toforgeanalliancewithZaisuthra.’‘And we must seek the Gate of Malice,’ added Yvraine. Her gyrinx leapt,bouncingfromthegroundtothearmofMelinielanduptoYvraine’sshoulder.Itstared at Idraesci andLaedellin, long tail protectively coiled aroundYvraine’snecktotheothershoulder,ambereyesglintingwithmotesofpsychicgold.‘A test,’ Starshone said suddenly, bounding forwards to stand alongside herGreatHarlequin.Shelaidherglovedhanduponhercompanion’sarm,caressingthesmoothclothwithlilac-cladfingertips.‘Whenallelsefails,whenyourdreamsarenoughtandonlythecallofYnneadremains,whatwill you do?’ saidDreamspear, turning his attention toYvraineand then Iyanna. ‘Why shouldwe,whodancewithdeathbesideyou, risk lifeandfreedomforthisfolly?Letdeadheroeslieundisturbed.’‘Ifitismyconvictionyoudoubt,Iwilltakeanytest,’saidYvraine.‘IamtheemissaryoftheWhisperingGodandIfearnothing.’‘Ialso,’saidIyanna.Melinielmoved,abouttorespondinkind,butDreamspearsilencedhimwitharaisedhandandaslightshakeofthehead.‘Youarewrong,’saidStarshone.Coilsofdarknesswreathedabout theshadowseer; tendrilsofutternight fromher credainn.To Yvraine she became a thing of shadow, not aeldari or evenmortal, just emptiness in reality possessed of glittering ruby eyes that burnedwithinnerflame.

AtenebrouslimbrosetowardstheOpeneroftheSeventhWay.Fingersformed,expandingastheyneared,tosmotherherface,stealingalllightandbreath.

Yvrainefellintotheshadows.All recognition of the garden hall, the other Ynnari, the Harlequins…Everythingdisappeared,exceptfortheblacknessofthevoid,thenothingnessofinexistence.Youhavenotbeen,boomedavoice,callousandloud.‘Beenwhere?’Yvrainereplied.The lack of anything did not disturb her until she realised thatAloryniswasmissing. Suddenly she felt as though she had lost a limb, left naked and barebeforethecruelintentionsoftheuniverse.Youneverwere,thevoiceclarified.Allthatwasisnot.Allthatcamebeforehaspassed.Thisisoblivion.Yvrainedidnotunderstandatfirst,butrefusedtoengagewiththevoice.Partofherrememberedsomethingaboutatest.Thiswassupposedtoshowupherinnerfears,herweakness.Ratherthanargue,shesaidtotheblackness,‘Itistheendoftorment.’Theendofjoy.‘Nomoresuffering.’Nomorepleasure.‘Itispeace.’Itisdeath.Themorethevoicespoke,themoreYvraineheardherselfinitstones,angrilyshoutingbackherdeepestfear.Shedecidedtoremainsilentforawhile,toseewhatotherdreadmightmanifestitself.Nothing happened. Time passed, or did not, it was impossible to know. Shethought,andfromthisYvrainededucedthatshewasstillherself.Butitdidnottakelongforthissuretytoerode.Hadonlyamomentpassed,orlonger?Withoutlife,withouttime,howwouldonemove,orgrow,orachieve?Whatwaslefttofightforifallprogresswashalted?‘Rebirth.’Shesaidthewordandmadeitso.Lightburnedinthefirmament,astarthatwasher,andfromhercamewarmthandlifeandbeing.‘We are the Reborn,’ she said, with increasing conviction. ‘The souls of theaeldaridonotperishwiththebody,theyreturnuntoeachgeneration.Wegrow,welearn,weaspiretogreatness.InYnneadwearedeliveredfromthecurseof

SheWhoThirsts.Weshallliveagain.’Yvraineluxuriatedinthegleamofherstar,proudofheranswer,assuredagainofherfaithintheSeventhWay.Whenher happiness reached its zenith,when contentment streamed fromherburningbody, thedarkness returnedwith crushingcoldness, extinguishingher,blottingoutallthatshehadwroughttoplungeherintomidnightonceagain.Shefellintothefreezingvoid,voicelessandalone.NO!boomedherterror.Theechoof itsvoicecarried thedeath screamsofmillions, theagonised lastcries of Biel-tani and Iyandeni, the gasps of Alaitocii and Commorraghans,Exoditesandoutcasts.JustasthebirthscreamofSheWhoThirstshaddestroyedtheaeldari,sothedeathrattleofYnneadwouldconsumetheremains.Yvraine spun head over heel, her skin frosting, blood freezing in her veins,heartslowing,limbsnumb.Overandover,aroundandaroundshetoppledintothe abyss, beyond light and sound and even beyond memory. She becamenothingagain.Itallends,thedarknesstoldher.YouarenotIsha,thewombofnewlife.YouareYnnead,theWhisperingGod,usherofthedead,hoarderofsouls.Youhavebutonepurposetoserve,oneperfectmomentofexistencebetweenbirthanddeath.Youaretheslayerandthesaviour,theonethatwillprisethedeadfromthegripofSheWhoThirsts.Withthatpoweryoushallstrike,givingupyourselfandallelseinthatmightyblowthatshallseverrealmsandshatterdominions.Shuddering, choking on nothing, dying of exposure and suffocation, Yvraineembracedthatwhichshehadtobe.Thatwhichshehadnottobe.Shewasnothope.Shewasnotdespair.Yvrainewassimplydead.Andthatwaspeace.

Yvraine came to her senses looking at the curved reflection of herself in themirrormask of Starshone. The whispers and murmurs of her companionsbetrayedsimilarexperiences.‘Onewillbreak,’exclaimedtheshadowseer,steppingback.TheYnnari and Iyandeniglancedat eachother,doubt rearing itsheadat thisproclamation.Unconsciously their circle parted a little, each of them isolatingthemselves from their companions. Suspicion edged every look and gesture.YvrainenotedthatnoneofthepresentcompanywasquicktorebutStarshone’spronouncement.

‘But we relent our conviction,’ said Idraesci Dreamspear. ‘We will bringbrightnesstothedarkofZaisuthra.’The twoHarlequins joinedhandsandwalkedawaywith lightsteps,apartingshimmerofcolourfromtheirholosuitsbeforetheydisappearedintotheforestofferns.Aconfusedsilencereigned.ItfelltotheVisarch,onewhousuallypreferredtosaynothing,tobreakthestill.‘Harlequins,’hesaid,shakinghishead.‘Alwayscreatingadrama.’‘Shetestedme,’saidIyanna.‘Iamtheonethatwillbreak.’‘No,’saidIyasta,voiceashamedwhisper.‘ItwasI–’‘–thatwasfoundwanting,’finishedtheotherwarlock.Thetwinslookedateachother,takenabackbytheuncharacteristiclossofharmony.‘Shetestedusall,’announcedMeliniel.‘Awakenedthefearineachofus.’Thisassessmentwasgreetedbyafurtheruncomfortablesilenceasthestrengthoftheshadowseer’spowersankin.‘Thenwhichofusfailed?’saidIyanna.‘I sawBiel-tan fall to ruin,’admittedMeliniel. ‘Assailedbyall foes, Ihad toact,Icouldnotsimplywatchitdie.‘IputmyowngloryabovethatofYnnead,’Yvrainequietlyconfessed.‘AndIthememoryofmyfamily,’addedIyanna.‘So each of us has a weakness, it does not matter,’ snapped the Visarch,shoulders hunched, fingers opening and closing upon the hilt of the Sword ofSilentScreams.‘AtypicalHarlequintrick.’‘Whatdidyousee?’askedTelathaus.‘Whatwasyourfearincarnate?’saidIyasta.‘I saw a bloody hand…’ The Visarch grunted wordlessly and stalked away,unwillingtosharethevisionthathadbesethim.Theotherswatchedhimgo,wrappedintheirownthoughts.Nonesaiditaloud,butallsharedthesameconclusion,thewarningthatStarshonehadsentthem.TheVisarchwouldbetraythem.

CHAPTER14

ZAISUTHRAFOUND

To look upon Zaisuthra was to look back upon an age long forgotten. ThecraftworldhadleftthesphereofmortalknowledgeinthedirectaftermathoftheFall,oneofthefirsttohavefledthecoreworldsoftheaeldaridominions.Itwasin form farmore akin to thegiant trade-ship that all craftworlds hadbeen, nomorethanatenththesizeofIyandenorUlthwéorBiel-tan.Wherethoselivingworlds sported domes of continent-sized forests and grand mountain ranges,Zaisuthra’sglimmering forcefields contained landscapesmore alike thegardenhallsofYnnead’sDream, filledwithmistandfoliage that turnedall toagreenhazeasseenfromthevoid.Hereandthereamongthejadeglowcouldbeseencolder blue hemispheres and ruddy glows, the landscapes within obscured bytheirprotectiveshields.Allattempt tocontact thecraftworld through theaetheric linkof thewebwayhad failed; nothing but the original message returned to the minds of thewarlocksandseers.Thosethathadgone,havenowreturned.The phrasing was strange, archaic. Yvraine had pondered the variations ofmeaning as the fleet hadwound itsway through the passages of thewebway,wrought like tightknotsby the sudden re-emergenceofZaisuthra.Though theHarlequinsof theMidnightSorrowhad travelled the lengthandbreadthof thegalaxy in theworldbetweenworlds, fromUlthwé toCommorragh,Biel-tan tothe Black Library, they had never encountered the like of the maze thatsurrounded Zaisuthra.Gates that had been closed for five lifetimeswere nowopen,andtunnelsandwebrunsthathadbeendormantreawakened,pullingandpushingatthefabricoftheghostrealm,contortingitsartificialrealitywiththeir

presence.And,asLaedellinStarshonehadtoldthem,thewebwayhadended.ForIyannaandYvraine,forthewarlocksandshadowseerandtheothersofthepsychicsight,ithadseemedasthoughthebroadtunnelsandcurvingarteriesoftheancientnetworkwereswallowedbyadarkmaelstrom.Itputtheminmindofthe broken gates of Shaa-dom and the CroneWorlds in the Eye of Terror –storm-wracked funnels of purewarp thatwould crush any ship and break themindofmortalsthatattemptedtopass.Buteventhiscomparisonfellshortofthesheerbleakness,theuttercessationofexistencethatcloakedZaisuthra.RememberingtheirpromisestotheHarlequinsinreturn,theYnnarileadershadtaken the fleet to the unknown, hurling their ships into the nothingness to seewhatwaitedbeyond.Now they looked upon the birth of the craftworlds writ real upon the starsbeforethem,astheyviewedZaisuthraononeofthebroadgalleriesofYnnead’sDream.Yvrainehadcalledfor theirconclave toassemble, todiscusshowtheywouldbroachthedifficultpropositionofopeningcontact.‘We must remember above everything else that they are not as us,’ saidMeliniel.‘Andwhatexactlyarewe?’askedAzkahr,hispointedlooktakingintheYnnariflotsam of disparate craftworlds, heirs of the Laughing God, Commorraghanfugitivesandaprowlinggyrinx.‘Whentheyleft,spiritstoneandinfinitycircuitengineeringwasinitsinfancy,’continuedMeliniel,ignoringhissubordinate.‘IdonotthinkthattheAsuryahadvisited them, theywerenever introducedto theconceptsof thePath.Whocansaywhatmoodsandmannersandpoliticsholdsway?’‘Whoindeed?’saidtheVisarch,scorninhisvoice.‘Notoneamongushasanyinkling of what it might be like to live a life free from the constraints ofAsurmen’steachings…’‘Melinielhasapoint,’saidIyanna.‘Theywillknownothingofaspectwarriorsandwraithkin,kabalitesandwyches,orHarlequins.’‘Sowearetheperfectintroductiontotheworldthathaspassedthemby,’saidYvraine.‘Theybearnoneoftheprejudicesoflonghistory.’‘Norhavetheylearned–’‘–fromourmanyerrors,’saidtheIyandeniwarlocks.While they spoke, Dreamspear was fixated upon the display, examining thecraftworld laid out upon its holographic image as an assayer might haveregardedanexquisitelycutgemstone.

‘WeshalltreadwhereeventheLaughingGodhasnotdanced,’hesaid,reverentandexcited.‘Whatdelightsanddangersawait!’‘One question we need not ponder any longer,’ said Azkahr, pointing to theglowing image. From the clustering orbit of ships around the craftworld threebrighter points emerged – the glint of the nearby star upon solar sails turningtowardsthem.‘Theycometous.’

ThetrioofvesselsthatclosedwiththeYnnariflotillawasalmostidentical,onebeing a little larger than its companions.Their slender hulls put theYnnari inmind of wasps, with a tight waist between thorax and abdomen where fourequidistant solar sails shaped like long moth wings were located. These sailsshimmeredbetweengoldandsilveras theyadjusted to the streamof the solarwinds,tackingtowardsthegatheringYnnarifleet.Incolourtheywerelightblue,stippledinplaceswithadarkgreen,givingthemsomething of an aquatic appearance. The patterns rippled outwards,interweaving,likerainfallingonadeeppuddle,mesmerisinginitscomplexity.‘Weshouldhaveourweaponbatteriesreadied,’saidIyasta.‘Untilweknowmoreoftheirintent,’continuedTelathaus.‘Yes,what betterway towelcome them back to the galaxy thanwith bladesbared,’ said Meliniel. ‘Besides, who brings three ships to attack thrice theirnumber?Iftheyhadillintent,theywouldbringtherestofthefleetorbitingtheircraftworld.’The ships turned sharply again, taking up formation abreast of each other.ThroughthemagnifyingeffectofthesensorybanksofYnnead’sDreamtheyallwatchedastheprowsofthecraftsblistered,domesformingundertheazurehullskin.Simultaneously,thesystemsoftheYnnaribattleshipmoanedawarning,itsalarmcoursingthroughthepsychiccircuitry.Like an animal confronted by a rival with teeth bared, Ynnead’s Dreamrespondedwithhostility,floodingitspsychicnetworkwithaggressivethoughts.Across itsmanydecks theYnnari felt thesurgeofprotectiveanger–even thedrukhari, who were poorly attuned to the psychic systems, sensed somethingamiss.‘Prudenceissometimesthebetteroftwoevils,’saidtheVisarch.‘Attheleastweshouldactivatetheholofields.’‘No,weshalldonothingofthesort,’declaredYvraine.‘WecomeasemissariesoftheRebornaeldari–’‘AndIyanden,’Telathausinterjected.

‘–wemustsowtrusttoreapitinreturn.’‘They have not answered any attempt to convey our peaceful intent,’ saidAzkahr.‘Howcanweassure themwemeannoharm?’Meliniel gestured towards thedisplayscreen.‘Theyarepoweringuptheirweapons,andareapproachingonanattackvector.’‘Adisplay,’saidYvraine,dismissingtheautarch’schangeofheart.‘Theywantustoknowtheyarewillingtofighttoprotectthecraftworld.’‘Aswell theymight,’saidDreamspear.Hefoldedhisarms,bodyweightedasthough he lounged a shoulder against an invisible wall, feigned indifferencethoughhisheartbeata littlefastat thesightof the incomingZaisuthranattackships. ‘When last they travelled thesestars,ourpeoplewarredopenlyamongstthemselves, evencraftworldagainst craftworld.Theyhave seennothingof thelikesofourships.’‘Theymaynoteven–’‘–thinkweareaeldari.Notastheyseethemselves.’‘After darkness, the dawn,’ said Iyanna suddenly, which struck the others asenigmatic, even foronemoreused toconversingwith thedead.She smiledattheirlooksofconfusion.‘ThesaluteoftheHouseofArienal.Themottoofmyancestors.Broadcastthatandtheywillknowthatwearefamily.’

IttookonlyafewheartbeatsfortheZaisuthranstorespondtothetransmission.No sooner had Iyanna’s message been passed through the battleship’sbroadcasting array, the incoming vessels both powered down their frontalweaponbatteriesandveeredtoamoresedateapproach.Thelargerofthethreebrokeawayfromitsescortsand,inashowofsolidarity,YvrainecommandedtheYnnarifleettoholdpositionwhileYnnead’sDreammovedaheadtomeetthem.‘Whilethisisencouraging,Icannotallowyoutoboardtheirship,’MelinieltoldYvraine.Hisbodylanguagespokevolumestohisdeterminationthatthiswouldbethefinalwordonthematter.‘Iconcur,’addedtheVisarch,earninghimselfscowlsfromboththeautarchandtheOpeneroftheSeventhWay.‘IamtheEmissaryofYnnead,IwalkwhereIplease,’shedeclaredarchly.MelinielandtheVisarchsharedalook,seenbytheothersandintendedassuch,whichmadeitplainthattheywerenotabovephysicallyrestrainingtheirmistressinordertoprotectherfromthiscourseofaction.‘A thorny stem to grasp, indeed,’ declaredDreamspear. ‘It speaks nothing of

ourtrustifwearenotwillingtogotothem,andinreturnwhyshouldtheycometous?’Thispromptedaquiet,politebutvehementdebatebetweenMeliniel,Yvraine,AzkahrandtheIyandenitwins.EachobstinatelystatedtheirviewatleasttwiceoverbeforeIyannainterruptedthem.‘Iamgoing,’shesaid.There were, perhaps tellingly, no objections raised to this. Even Iyasta andTelathausdidnotprotestat the firstparleybeingheldbyoneof theYnnari, itbeing clear that they now considered Iyanna an outcast and thereforeexpendable.‘Itismymessage,’Iyannacontinued,hidinganysignthatshewasaffectedbytheirlackofconcernforherwellbeing.‘IamthescionoftheHouseofArienal,itshouldbemewhomeetsthem.’

Suchwasmadeknownacross theaetheras Iyannamadeherwaydown to thelaunch bays where a shuttle craft was readied for her. She arrived to findAlthenianwaiting.‘A moment. Unwise to go forth alone, defenceless,’ warned the wraithlord.IyannawasbrieflystruckbytheironythatofallhercompanionsitwastheonewhohadbeenabloodthirstyslayertrappedonthePathoftheWarrior–andwhoincidentallywasalsoactuallydead–thathadbeentheonlyonetovoicesuchanopinion.Evenso,thetacitofferwasnotwelcome.‘Theymayknownothingofspirit-craftandwraithlords,’saidIyanna,steppingaround the tall construct. ‘That is an explanation best avoided at our firstmeeting.’‘Youareright,butyoustillneedprotection,justincase,’insistedAlthenian.‘No.’Iyannastoppedandturnedtoaddressthewraithlord.‘Ishallnoteventakemyspear.IamsimplyIyannaoftheHouseofArienal,nothingmore.’‘Perhapsso.Whatshallyoutellthemofus?Ourpurpose?’Thiscausedherpause,forshehadnotagreedwiththeothershowmuchoftheirmissionsheshouldreveal.Therewasalottocomprehend–theGreatRift,therise of the Ynnari, the croneswords and the Gate of Malice. It seemedimprobable that theZaisuthranswouldbeamenable toanentirewarhostbeingdepositedupontheirhomeonthebasisofthesedistant,mythicconcerns.‘I shall play the tune as the situationbefits,’ confessed the spiritseer. ‘If theyseemconducive toourneed, Iwill beopen,but for thepresent I shall restrictmyselftosayingthatwehavecomeinresponsetotheirreappearance,tomake

acquaintanceandseeiftheyneedassistance.’‘Areyousure?Youwouldbeginwithalie,Iyanna?’‘A simplification.’ Althenian did not need ghostsight to see the hue of guiltcolourhersoul; itwasplain that this justificationdidnotsitwellwith Iyanna.She continued, ‘A necessary omission until we are more certain of ourwelcome.’AcallfromoneoftheYnnariattendingtotheactivationofthelaunchdrewherattention. Althenian bid her goodbye with a single wave of the hand. Sheacceptedthesentimentwithasmileandanodandheadedfortheshuttle,whichlookedlikeabirdofpreywithsweptwingsperchingbesidetheopenbaydoors,itsgreyhullgleamingintheamberlightofthefieldprotectingtheopening.As sheboarded she felt a contact from the surroundingpsychic network, herthoughtsgrowingchillattheinterventionofYvraine.Assure them of our good intent, pulsed the Opener of the Seventh Way.Remember that the salvation of our people, of the aeldari race,might rest onthesenextmoments.No pressure, thought Iyanna and the psychic connection quivered with herapprehension.AsoothingwaveofassurancefromYvrainesettledhernerves.Shesaidnothing,breakingthepsychiclinkwiththematrixasshesettledonthelaunchcouchandsignalledtothepilot.Withoutfurtherceremonythecraft liftedontheanti-gravitycatapultandthensped out of the bay on a rapid throb of power. Therewas a period of severalheartbeats in which Iyanna could still sense the psychic embrace ofYnnead’sDream,andthenitwasgone.Exited from the ship, away from the webway, not even accompanied by awraithbladeorwraithguard,theonlythingIyannacouldsensewasthedarksoulof the former kabalite at the helm and the yawning emptiness of the spacearoundher.

‘They’relaunchingashuttletoo,’announcedthepilot,assurprisedasIyannabythisevent.‘Werewesupposedtobemetbyanothershuttle?’‘Wedidnot–’Iyannastopped.Theyhadnot…anything.Broadcasttheirintent.Sent an invite. Asked permission. ‘All of this would have happened with athoughtbetweenordinarycraftworlds.Interstitialpsychiccommunion.’‘InCommorraghwedidn’thavethat,’thepilotreplied.Hepointedtotheflickerofmovement against the hull of the Zaisuthran ship that loomed large in thecanopy.‘Thisisthekabalway.Face-to-face.’

Iyanna did not find the thought encouraging, knowing that most kabalitecustomsowedtheirhistorytothewarringstreetgangsandperversesectsofthepre-Fall aeldari dominions. Zaisuthra had not undergone five lifetimes ofcoexistence with other craftworlds. If considered in that vein, it was not sostrangethatZaisuthramightsharemanyundesirabletraitswithdrukhariculture.‘Justkeepussteadyandmonitorforanycommunication.’It took a little more time until the other craft was out of the shadow of itsmothervesselandvisibletoIyanna.Sheletherselfoutofherharnessandjoinedthepilotinhissuite.TheZaisuthranshuttlelookedlikeasmallerversionofthewarship, though rather than four slender wings it possessed a parachute-likesolarchutetetheredtothenosethatfurledanddisappearedasitcamenearer.At the same time, Iyanna felt the first touchof apsychicpresence.Herpilotseemedoblivious,hispsychicsenseatrophiedbygenerationsofCommorraghaninbreeding, but there came the unmistakable sensation of another mindenvelopingtheship.Itseemedlikeanopenhand,closinggentlyaroundthecraft,urgingittostop.‘Haltushere,’saidIyanna.Thepilotcompliedwithoutcomment.The sensation then became one of investigation – not a specific or directinquirythatmightbeanswered.Thoughshecouldonlyguessatsuchthings,itputIyannainmindofablindedindividualusingtheirfingerstodetecttheshapeandtextureofsomething.Itwasentirelyonthesurface,norprobingdeeply,justgettingsomesemblanceoftheshuttle’spresenceandoccupants.Through the canopy she saw the Zaisuthran craft turn, puffs of ice crystalsclouding around its mid-hull as tiny attitude thrusters altered its angle anddirectiontobringitaround.Shetentativelysentoutapsychicpulseofherown–noexertionofherabilitiesmore than would have been required to interface with the Iyanden infinitycircuit.Immediatelythepsychicpotentialaroundtheothershuttlehardened,formingacarapace about them, rebuffing her overture. For the tiniest instant she feltshock;notherownbutofthemindthatbeheldher.‘Adocking cable,’ said thepilot, directingher attention to a slender filamentthatsnakedfromthebowoftheothershuttle.A gravitic clamp attached to the nose of Iyanna’s craft and the two slowlymoved towards each other as the cable shortened. They swivelled until theyapproachednosetonose,whereacirculardockingportcouldbeseen.EntrytotheYnnaricraftwasviaadorsalinterfaceandIyannainstructedthepilottopivot

theshiptopresentthistotheZaisuthrans.Thecabledisconnectedandretracted,leaving the two vessels to gently slide into contact with each other, inertialdampenersactivatingautomaticallytobringthemalongsidewithjustthebarestshudderofcontact.The impact in Iyanna’smindwasmore severe – a sudden electric pulse thatsentherstaggeringfromtheshuttle’scockpit,thepilot’scallofconcernonlyhalfheard.Sheputoutahandtosteadyherselfasthesensationpassed,leavingherwithashortbutintenseboutofpsychicnausea.‘Areyouwell,seer?’askedthepilot,hisfacemovinginandoutoffocusbeforeher.‘Havewebeenattacked?’‘No,’ she croaked, dredging up enough presence of mind to form the word.Doingso,forcingherphysicalbeingtoact,stabilisedherwhirlingthoughts.‘No,not a deliberate attack. Something big, passing close at hand. A ship’s wakeleavingeddiesthatsinksthewaterfowl.Doesthethunderclapintendtodeafen?’‘I’llassumethatmakessomesensetoyou,’saidthekabalite.Hehelpedhersit.Athree-notechimesoundedfromthepilotingchamber.‘We’redocked.’Iyannanoddedandsaidnothing,tryingtosettleherthoughts.Thecontacthaddefinitelybeenunintentional.The edgeof somethingbig, almost asbig as thecollectiveconsciousofaninfinitycircuit.Perhapsthatwasit,shedecided,someextensionofZaisuthra’sinhabitantsthroughthecraftanditscrew.Thehullshivered,respondingtoatouchattheportalabovethem.TheZaisuthranswererequestingentry.

CHAPTER15

UNEXPECTEDREUNION

The face that appeared at the opening, once the two intersecting artificialgravities had vehemently expressed their opinions and then compromised bysettlingon‘down’asapointsomedistancefromthetwocraft,waslikenothingIyannahadbeenexpecting.Theskinwasalmostblack,theheadshrunkentohalfthesizeofotheraeldari.Itseyeswerebroad,yellow-irised,thepupilapinprickintheambientlightoftheYnnari launch. Skeletal fingers grabbed the edge of the opening, each digittippedwithapale,curvedclaw,threetoeachhand.Itmadeamewingnoiseandfell into theshuttle, revealingastuntedbody,naked,vestigialwingsbelowtheshoulderblades.Cursingfollowed,bothfromherpilotwhoretreatedswiftlyfromthegargoylecawing froma toothlessmouthas it peeredat the twoaeldari, and fromsomeunseen individual in the Zaisuthran craft. Amoment later a farmore familiarfaceappearedintheentryduct,unmistakablyaeldari,ofadvancedage.Morethanthat,IyannawasimmediatelystruckbyhissimilaritytotheHouseofArienal archives, generation after generation of her predecessors stored in thepsychic memory of Iyanden. The shock deepened, the sense of kinshipstranglingthewordsin herthroatas itfelt likeshecouldhavebeenlookingatthefaceofherfather,justforaheartbeat.‘Profoundapologiesforthemisbehaviourofmypet,’theaeldarisaid,reachingoutamany-ringedhandtobeckonthegargoylecreaturetoreturn.Itlookedupathim, made a snickering sound and scuttled towards the pilot, forcing him tojumpasideasitranforthecockpit.‘I…’Iyannastilldidnotknowwhattosay.

‘This is perhaps utterly counter to how I had envisaged this occasion takingplace,’theotheraeldaricontinued,loweringhimselfintotheshuttle.Hewasgarbedinalightyellowknee-lengthcoatwithornateruffsontheopen-frontedcollarandheavycuffs,andatight-fittingpurpleundersuitthatranfromthe toes toneck. Jewelleryclinkedandclatteredashedescended,every fingerpossessingatleasttworings,adozenandmoreamuletsandtalismansabouthisneckandchest.Iyannasawsigilsandsymbolsofascoreofoldgods,andothersthatwerenotknowntoher.‘Ishouldnothaveletthewretchedcreatureaccompanyme,butPeasapinessomuch in my absence. Quintrills are a temperamental species, but asdemonstrably obvious now, exceptionally curious. She really wanted to meetyou.’‘Iyanna,’ she finallymanaged. ‘Iyanna, spiritseerof Iyanden,of theHouseofArienal.’‘Sydari,’theotherreplied,raisinganopenhandtotouchthetipofhismiddlefinger to his forehead in what was clearly a gesture of greeting. ‘High Lord-GuardianofZaisuthra.’Hesmiled.‘AlsooftheHouseofArienal.’

Iyanna excused herself to the cockpit to gather her thoughts, under a garbledguiseofcontactingherfleettoassurethemthatallwaswell.Peasathequintrillhung off the webbing of a piloting cradle, shedding dark fur and eyeing thegleaming rune panel with barely-suppressed desire. At Iyanna’s arrival thecreature flopped to the floor and scampered back into themain compartment,causingthepilottojoinher,alookofdisdainonhisface.‘Whatadisgustingcreature,’hesaid.‘Iquitelikeit,’confessedIyanna.‘Iappreciatethehonestyinitslackofcharm.’She interfaced with the shuttle’s communication system and packaged athought-broadcastbacktoYnnead’sDreamconfirmingthatshehadmadecontactandtheZaisuthranswerenothostile.Turning,shewassurprisedtofindSydariatthedoor,peeringcuriouslyaroundthecockpit.Peasahungupsidedownonhisarm,glaringatthepilotinmutualantagonism.‘Haveyousignalledourfriendlyintenttoyourfleet?’theHighLord-Guardianasked.‘Ihavesentwordtomypeersthatyourshipsdonotappeartoposeanythreat.’Donotappear…It was a reminder that this personal contact was far from an alliance in themaking. Iyannacouldnot let familialbondsovertakeherbroadermission,nor

blindhertopotentialobstacles.‘HighLord-Guardianisapositionofsomerankinyourhierarchy?’sheasked,stepping forwards, subtlyusheringSydariawayfromthecontrolchamber.Shewasnot surewhy this shouldbeprudentbut in response toher earlier lackofcaution, she overcompensated. ‘You are able to speak for the people ofZaisuthra?’‘Itisthehighest.’Again,thewarmsmile.Humble.Anexpressionalmostneverseenonanaeldari face,which tooksomemomentsforIyanna todecode. ‘TheHouseofArienalrulesZaisuthra,andIamtheseniormemberof theHouseofArienal.’Again,thechoiceofwordswasparticular.Notleadsorcommands,notguidesorpresidesover.Rules.Iyannafeltasurgeofsmugnessemanatingfromherpilotcompanion–hehadnoted the sameand took it as furtherevidence that theZaisuthransweremorelikelytobeakintoCommorraghansthancraftworldersintheirattitudes.‘Youhaveabsoluteauthority?’sheasked,unsureiftherewasasubtlerwaytomakesuchanenquiry.‘Hereditarymonarchy?’‘Yesandno.’Theystoppedbesidetheopeningbetweenthetwovessels. ‘TheruleofZaisuthrapassesfromHousetoHouseoverfixedperiods,soeachservesinprimacyonlyforawhile.’Hestopped,onthebrinkofsayingsomethingelse,andIyannasensedsadnessfromhim.Sydariglancedbacktohisshuttleandthenfixedhiseyeonher.‘Please extend my invitation to your fleet, they are welcome to dock withZaisuthra.’Againhepaused,abouttosaysomethingbeforechanginghismind.‘We offer such thatwe have to sharewith you and are keen to learn of yourpeople.Onapersonalnote,IamalsoexcitedtohearofthefortunesoftheHouseofArienalon thecraftworldof Iyanden. It isperhapsnotchance thatwehavereturnedclosetoanotherbranchofourpeople.’This timeitwasIyanna’sreluctancethatstalledtheconversation.Shenoddedandforcedasmile.‘Thereismuchforusbothtodiscussandlearn.’Neither extended further invitation and so Sydari ascended to the dockingaperture, his quintrill scampering ahead.He lookedbackwith a final smile ofpartingandthentheopeningdisappeared, thehullsofbothcraftsealedagainsteachother.Iyanna nearly fell, and found herself on one of the inertia couches withoutconscious thought. She took a shuddering breath and then exhaled, long and

slow,releasingtheconflictofenergiesthatswirledwithinher.Shesat,numbed,staringatherglovedhands,noticingthetrembleinherfingers.‘Thatwentwell,’ said the pilot,whose name she had still not asked for. Sheignoredhimand,silentlydismissed,heslouchedbacktothepilotingchamber.‘IshalltakeusbacktoYnnead’sDream.’Shemumbledanaffirmativeandforcedhergazetoawindowopposite,whereshe saw the craft of Sydarimoving away, heading back towards the glitter ofZaisuthrainthedistance.Iyannastoodupasherlaunchturned,movingtoholdahandagainst the transparentmaterial, eyeclose tokeep thecraftworld inviewforaslongaspossible.When it had gone she saw only her face reflected against the darkness. Thefeatures shifted, becoming those of Sydari – not a great change, it must beadmitted.AndfromthereittookonlymomentsforIyanna’sthoughtstoslidetotheavenueoftheDead,toconversewiththerememberedshadeofherfather.WhileIyannaconductedhermorbidreminiscences,Sydarihadhisownissuesto contendwith.Waiting for him in themain compartment of the short-rangescoutcraft was Atalesasa. The other Zaisuthran sat by one of the viewpoints,regardingthedwindlingcraftofIyannawithsunkeneyes.Hewasalsogarbedinalongcoat,ofheavyblackfabricedgedwithloopsandswirlsofgoldenthread,thehighcollarhidingmostofhispaleface.Hishighforeheadwasdecoratedbyasinglegemsetintotheflesh,anemeraldthesizeofathumbtipfashionedintoatightspirallikeamysticalthirdeye–thebadgeoftheHouse’sConverser,theirpsychicrepresentativeinthegroupmind.He did notmove at Sydari’s return, chin resting on the fingers of one hand,elbowonthesilloftheviewingpane.Whenhespokehisvoicewasameasuredwhisper.‘Youtrustthem.’‘Itrusther,’Sydaricorrected,sittingbesidehisadviser.‘Shewasstrong,ingroupthought.Shetriedtoseeintothegroupmind.’‘Indeed?Andwhatdidyougetfromherinreturn?’‘Verylittle.Shewascold.Almostdead.’‘Butyousaidsheispuissant?’‘Literally dead, Lord-Guardian. She walks upon the precipice between theliving and the departed. Her power comes from the tomb. Be wary of them,Sydari.Theydonothaveourbestinterestsatheart.’‘Thefamilyneeds them,’said theHighLord-Guardian. ‘Weareallbutspent.Weneedfreshbloodifwearetogrow.Ourisolationmustendorweshallwither

anddiealone.’‘Theyareathreat.’‘Thereisrisk,thatistrue,butalsoopportunity.’SydariheldPeasainhislapandstrokedafingerdownthecreature’sback,elicitingacontentedshudderfromthequintrill.‘Wecannotsurvivewithoutthem.’‘Donotconfusedesperationwithhope,Sydari.Wehaveneedofthem,youareright.Wedonothaveneedoftheircooperation.’‘No,butitwillmakethiseasier.Thatwhichisfreelygivenisworthmorethanthatwhichistakenbyforce.Bettertosowonfertilesoilthanbarrenrock,andnowIhaveplantedthefirstseed.’

CHAPTER16

THEWELCOMEOFZAISUTHRA

Attheheadofthefleet,Ynnead’sDreamwaslargerthananythingmusteredbytheZaisuthranstomeetthearrivals.Tailedbycruisersandescorts,thebattleshipmovedsedatelyalongthelengthofthecraftworldtowardsthedockingtowertowhichtheyhadbeenissuedguidance.IntheconferencechambertheworthiesofYnnariwerefixedupontheglowingimageonthedisplayscreen,therestofthehallindarkness,theirfaceslitbytheflickerofgreenandblue.Theyscouredthemagnifiedimagesforeverycluetothecultureandhistoryoftheirhosts.‘See here, that is battle scarring,’ said Meliniel, pointing to an area on thecraftworld’sclosestflank,wherebasematerialwasexposedthroughseverallonggouges.Thesurfaceabovewasblank,nolandscapeordometobeseen.‘Highenergyattackofsomekind.’‘I see a city,’ remarkedYvraine,gesturing tomove the focusof the image tohighlighttheobjectofherscrutiny.Thedisplayexpanded,revealingamountainfastnesslikeacastlefromlegend,its flanks and summit encrusted with towers and bridges, broad highwaysconvergingfromtheplainsandsurroundingdomearches.Itsatclosetotheprowof Zaisuthra, the tallest edifice in sight, giving the craftworld a front-heavyappearance.Furthermanipulationrevealedseveralclustersofhexagonallydomedstructuresatthebaseofthecity-mount.Thesebuildingsweresquatandfunctional,unlikeanyaeldariarchitecturepastorpresent.‘Perhapstheyarestablesorsimilar,’suggestedAzkahr.‘Or some kind of penitent aesthetic?’ Iyasta leaned closer, a finger directedtowardsthesquarewindowsanddoors.‘Faux-barbarianism?’

‘Idonotlikethis,’announcedIyanna,turningaway.‘Itfeelsasthoughwearelookingforexcusestojudgethem.’‘Ifyou think theyarenotsubjectingus toequalscrutiny,youarenaive,’saidYvraine.‘Wemustlearnallwecan,thebettertoconductnegotiations.’‘Negotiations?’Iyannashookherhead.‘Thisisnotatradeembassy.Theseareourdistantcousins,potentialallies,notaresourcetobeexploited.YourtimeinCommorraghhasrobbedyouofempathy.’Nobody replied, though all shared the thought that for Iyanna to speak ofempathywasrare,ifnotoutrighthypocrisy.Shehadpreviouslyespousedgreatsacrifice,eventheruinofherowncraftworld,ifitbroughtaboutthesummoningofYnnead.Azkahrwas,predictably,theonewhocouldnotletthisstand.‘Letmesaywhateveryoneelseistoopolitetovoice,’saidthekabalite.‘Evenyourbriefcontactwithmembersofyourdistantfamilyhavedistractedyoufromourcause.Sydariisastranger,evenifhesharesyourname.YourbondofHouseisnobasisfortrust.’‘Do not confuse theHouses of the aeldari for the squabbling kabals of yourhome city,’ snapped Iyanna. ‘Even across the generations there is loyalty andhonourtobefoundthere.’‘There is no confusion,’ Azkahr replied with equal vehemence. ‘The kabalswere born of those nobleHouses. I fear youwill find Zaisuthra closer to theinternecine rivalriesof theolddominions thanyouwould like.Makenoerror,theyseeusasrivalsatthemoment.’‘Thatdoesnotmeanwemustreciprocate,’saidMeliniel.‘Nor assume that the Zaisuthrans will aid us out of any sense of commonpurpose,’saidYvraine,whoseownexperiences inCommorraghhad taughthertobewaryofanyalliancenotforgedonmutualself-interest.‘Wemaynothavecomeforbarter,butwemustbearsomething tooffer theZaisuthrans in returnforaccesstotheGateofMalice.’‘Wehavewarriors,’saidtheVisarch.‘Andships.’Thoughhiswordswerefew,hismeaningwasclear.Thecraftworldcouldnotmatchthemightofthoseithadleftbehind,anditsfleetwaslittlestrongerthanacorsairflotillaintheeyesoftheYnnari.Thefleettheyhadbroughtwiththem,itself not even half of their total void assets, was more than a match for thevesselsthatcurrentlyorbitedZaisuthra.‘Threats?’ Iyanna shook her head,missing his intent. ‘Who are we to arrivewithbladeattheirthroat?’‘Military assistance,’ the Visarch explained with a sigh. ‘They have been in

wars,thatmuchisplain.’‘Apact,’saidMeliniel.HelookedtowardsIyastaandTelathaus.‘IamsurethatwouldalsoworkintheinterestsofIyanden.’Thewarlockssharedathoughtandalook,andthensignalledtheirassent.‘Iyandencanofferlittlebutthedead–’‘–andweareinneedofalliesoflate.’‘LetushopethatZaisuthraisinbettershapethanitappearsfromoutside,’saidYvraine, seeing more darkened domes and broken strata as their ship turnedacross themidsectionof the craftworld. ‘Or itmaynotonlybe spirits thatweneedraisefromthedead.’

It hopefully suffices to say that the arrival of the Ynnari – and the smallcontingent of Iyandeni –wasmetwith suitable dignity and occasion,withoutdelving into toomuch tediousdetailof thegreetings, introductions, ritualsandceremonythataccompaniedthemeetingofthetwopeoples.Threefactsareofremark, thoughts that lodgedin themindofYvraineasshebowed and nodded and committed a seemingly endless stream of names tomemory.The first was that the Zaisuthrans were religious. She was not one to castaspersionsonthosewhowishedtodedicatetheirlivestoagodorgods,afterall,butitstruckherasstrangethatthepantheonofoldhadbeenresurrected.VoiceshadnotbeenraisedinprayertosuchasAsuryanandIsha,VaulandLileathsincetheWar inHeaven,which predates the Fall by a score of lifetimes andmuchmore.Perhapsintheirisolation,orinseekingforsomecauseorguideintheanarchyof the post-Fall dominions, the Zaisuthrans had sought answers from the oldways.Thenobles theywere introduced to all seemed to fulfil thedual roleoffamilymatriarchsandpatriarchs,andapriesthoodaswell.Sydariwasnotalonein wearing the sigils of almost every god and goddess, every demigod andascendantpower in theancientmyths.Onegodwasnotablyabsent from theirworship,onerunethattheydidnotuse–Ynnead.YvrainecanbeforgivenforcalculatingthatthismadethemidealcandidatesforconversiontotheYnnari.Itisunderstandablethatifoneworshipsonegod,theymightworshipany,andsoitoccurredtotheEmissaryofYnneadthatsheshouldendeavourtospreadthedeedsandwordsofYnneadandlooktorecruitsomeoralloftheZaisuthranstothemovement.The second of her observations somewhat tempered her expectations in this

regard, for itquicklybecameplain tosee that like theirhome, theZaisuthranshadsufferedmuchpredationintheirgenerationsofremovalfromtherestoftheaeldari.SeveralthousandturnedouttocommemoratetheYnnari,buttheylinedavenuesandgalleriesthatcouldhaveheldtentimesthatnumber.Though never one of the largest craftworlds, upon the eve of its departureZaisuthrawouldhavehousedamillionsoulsandmore.Overtime,thatnumberhaddwindledsignificantlyifthesizeofthegreetingcrowdswasanyindication.Evenmorestrikingwastheageingpopulation.Thereseemedbarelyahandfulofaeldarilessthanhalfwaytotheiroldage,andofinfantstherewasnosignatall.‘Perhapstheyareshy,’answeredtheVisarchwhenshesharedherthoughts.‘Unlikely that they would be reluctant to see others after so long in thewildernessof thevoid.Onewould think theywouldraise thegreatestclamourpossible.’Iyannahadclearlynoticedthisaswell,butallattemptsfromherorYvrainetodrawSydarioroneoftheotherZaisuthrannoblestosharesomemeasureofthesorrowsthathadbesetthemweremetwithpolitedissembling.Even for such a small attendance, the welcome was sombre rather thancelebratory. No small proportion of the Zaisuthrans eyed the newcomerswithsuspicion;admittedlyagoodlypercentageoftheYnnariwerenolessblatantintheirappraisaloftheirhosts,particularlythosethatheraldedfromCommorragh.The entrance of the Harlequins should have brought some lightness andfrivolitytothesincereproceedings.Dreamspearandhismasquedisplayedtheirfull motley, conversing with their audience in movement and verse, theembodiment of Cegorach the Trickster. Like Ynnead, the Laughing God wasconspicuousinhisabsencefromthetemplesandtalismansofthecraftworldandthough a relative few of the crowd showed delight at the Harlequins’performance,manyhaddeeperscowlsbytheendofit.Sydariandtheothernoblesclapped, theirsmilesalittle toofixedforgenuineamusement, thoughnonedisplayedoutrightantipathy to thecavorting, singingwarriors.Theypaid respect toDreamspear andhis cohort equally to theotherYnnari and listened with rapt attention to the Great Harlequin’s tales of theLaughing God’s escape from She Who Thirsts and his subsequent exploitsstealingthesoulsofHarlequinsfromtheclutchesoftheGreatEnemy.AgaintherewasanotablesilencearoundthematterofhowtheZaisuthranshadcopedwiththeperilofSheWhoThirsts.Theydidnotwearthesoul-protectingwaystones, but there was none of the vampiric aura of the Commorraghans

either.Suchasensitive matterwasclearlynotforpublicdiscussion,butYvrainecouldnothelpbutharboursuspicionregardingthisfacetofZaisuthranculture.Lastly was the matter of the infinity circuit itself, or the groupmind as theZaisuthrans referred to their psychic network. It was like a prototype of thematrices that powered other craftworlds, based upon the same rudimentarypsychicengineeringbutverydifferentinexecution.Forthemostpart,Zaisuthrawasablankshell.Thecraftworlderscouldfeelthepsychicpresencearoundthem,aswithanyoftheaeldariworld-ships,butthosethat had honed their talent such as Iyanna and the warlocks, or those whosemindshadbeenopenedbygodly intervention in thecaseofYvraine,couldnomore access the crystal pathways than they could pass their hands into thestructureofthewalls.Itexistedbutcouldnotbepenetrated.‘ItremindsmeofanExoditeworldspirit,’saidtheVisarch.‘Ashell,theenergypassingonlyoneway.’‘WhendidyousojournamongtheExodites?’askedYvraine.‘Betweenbeforeandnow,’theVisarchrepliedwithashrug.It was impossible to know if the resistance of the circuit was some innatefunction of its make-up, or if it had been deliberately shielded against theirinspection.Neitherwas adamning fact in its own right and, aswith theotherobservations,itwasnotcausealonetobewaryoftheZaisuthrans.‘Taken all together, though, it feels as though Zaisuthra is not quite alive,’explainedYvraine after spending the better part of the cycle being repeatedlyblessed,gentlyinterrogatedandgivenaquitepreciseandstructuredtourthroughpartsofthecraftworld.‘Youshouldfindit–’‘–mostwelcoming,inthatregard,’raspedthetwins.

Awholedomewasgivenovertohousethem–theHighlandsofDistantRepose,Sydarihadcalledit.Withinwasabeautifully ruggedmoorlandforthemostpart,covered in purple-flowered low bushes, and copses of trees with intricatelyinterwoven branches. The leaves were dry, turned to russet and ochre by theseason, the first drops covering the groundwith a carpet of reds and oranges.Theskyof thedomepresentedascloudy, theundersideof thedriftingmassesdappledwithgoldenlightfromahiddensource.Severalmanses had been erected upon the rounded highlands, looking downintoboulder-filledvalleys, theescarpmentsandcliffspittedwithburrowholes,stippled with mosses and lichens. Marshlands and fens were home to long-

legged wading birds with hooting calls, which strode among the rushes andreeds, dipping for orange-flanked fish, and snapping the air at the finger-longwyvernflies.The Ynnari were housed in one complex of sprawling buildings, known asWithershield,whichdelvedasdeeplyintothefoundationsasitroseintotheair.Theupperstoreysweremany-roofed,flankedwithturrets,thegreywallsbrokenby broad transparent doors that opened onto dozens of balconies. The ancientpalacewasmore reminiscent of a hunting estate than the city-bound expansesthathadhousedthemajorityoftheaeldaribeforetheFall.In one of the upper floors the leaders of theYnnarimade their lair, securingchambers with high, wide windows that looked out upon a shimmering lake.Whenallhadperformedtheircleansingandrestedforawhile,theymetagainononeoftheupperplazas,awidedeckfurnishedwithenoughlowchairsandtablestohostseveraldozen.Therewereno slaveshere, no aeldari on thePathofService, and so the cupholders remained empty, the tables bereft of fayre.Dreamspear crunchedon apieceoffruithehadmischievouslyobtainedsomehow.Otherswanderedtotherailandlookedoutuponthemeticulouslyconstructedmelancholiclandscape.Thiswasacraftworld,whenallwassaid,and theseasonsonly turnedby thewillofitsinhabitants.Theentiredomewasapurposefulstudyintransitionandfadingglory.‘There is immense losshere,’ said Iyanna. ‘Theyare struggling, I can feel it.Regretpermeateseverything.’‘Did Sydari give any indication of why they have returned now?’ askedMeliniel.‘Thegalaxyisinturmoil,eventheforgottenfrontiershavefelttheeffectsoftheGreatRift,’repliedYvraine.‘Theyneedourhelp,’ Iyannasaidbluntly. ‘Icannotsayexactlywhat,orwhytheyhavebeendashedagainstthetroubledshoresofourlivesnow,butitiscleareverywherewelookthattheyarefounderingfast.SomecataclysmconnectedtotheGreatRiftmighthavebefallenthem,orsimplytheinexorableerosionoftimehasfinallylaidthemlow.Itdoesn’tmatter!Theyareourpeople,theyneedourassistance.’‘Then they need to ask for it,’ saidAzkahr. ‘Do you think pride holds themback?’‘Or fear,’countered Iyanna. ‘Wouldyouwillinglyadmit to strangers thatyouareweak?Defenceless?Wemustearntheirtrustfirst.’

‘Andtheyours,’Yvrainesaidsharply.Shepickedupacrystalgobletandheldittothelight,castingrainbowsagainstthepalmofherotherhand.‘Blessingsandbanquetsareflatteryandbribery,nothingmore.’‘Thosethathadgone,havenowreturned,’saidDreamspear,tossingthecoreofhissnackovertheedgeofthebalcony.‘Iftheydidnotdesirecontact,theirlipswouldhaveremainedsealedandnonewouldhavewitnessedtheirpassing.Theperformancehasmuchchangedsincetheydepartedthestage.Perhapstheyfaltersimplythroughignoranceoftherevisedscript.’‘IwillspeakagaintoSydari,’saidIyanna.‘Ifwecanfindameetingofminds,ourfactionswillalsofindaccord,Iamsureofit.’‘Youseem…anxioustospearheadthisengagement,’saidMeliniel.‘Youwouldnotletpersonaldesirecloudyourjudgement,Ihope.’‘Iwasnotaskingpermission.’

Thespiritseerstalkedbackintothechamber,shouldershunched,theeyesoftheotherYnnariuponherback.Theywatchedherleavethemanse,abrightermoteof gold and red among the autumnal shade that would soon be lost in thecarefullygeneratedmists.Yvraine crouched and tickledAlorynis behind an ear, andwith a thought bidhimtodepart.Thegyrinxpurredonce,rubbingacheekagainsthercalf,andthenleapttothebalcony.Threemoreboundsfollowed–fromrailtoroof,rooftosill,silltoground–andwithtailhighhefollowedafterthedepartingspiritseer.

CHAPTER17

THUSSPAKEZAISUTHRANS

A picture is a poem of a thousand verses, claims the wisdom of the ancientphilosophers. In that regard, themeetingbetween thedelegationson thebroadbalconyof themansespokea longode todiscomfort,distrustanddisdain,vialyric diversions to mutual antagonism, secret agendas and simple clash ofpersonalities.It was more than negotiation, it was war by body language. To the casualobserveritappearedasapolitebutheateddiscourse.Totheinformedobserveritwasaseriesofsalientsandthrusts,counter-offensivesandhaplessslaughter.Theaeldariareapeopleevergiventothemostsubtleofnon-verbalcommunicationsandtheleastsubtleofinterpretations.Theyofferlittleoffencebuttakemuch.Aglance,atiltofthehead,apauseofahalf-breathcarriedthesameweightasaflatdenialor soliloquy.Everymeasured sipofwine,eachshiftofposture, themerest change of intonation signalled a thunderous charge or terrified rout; asurpriseflankattackcouldbeinitiatedbyablinkandanuntimelycoughmightbringaboututtercapitulation.Imaginethescene:Twogroups,seatedforthemostpartthoughoccasionallytheystood,paced,orotherwise displayed patience, frustration and irritability in the cycle of never-endingdebate.Ontheoneside,theYnnariandIyandeni.Thetablesbeforethemheldplattersof barely touched food, their goblets of crystal clear water, fruit juices andaromaticspicedwineequallyneglected.Yvraine sat like a queen among a court, resplendent in full aristocratic attire,immaculatelycoiffuredandarrangedwithherwarfanheldlightlyinherlap.She

feigned the appearance of a doll, but none present were deluded enough tobelievethefacade.Herlipsformedatightlinewhennotspeaking,hereyesalertfor the slightest gesture or expression that would expose the intent of thoseoppositebefore itwasmadeplain inwordordeed.Even ifnot for this telltalesharpness of demeanour, the psychic purring of the blade beside her chairbetrayedthatshewasanythingbutananimatedfigurine.TheVisarchstoodathershoulder,asplashofbloodagainstthegreyandpastelblueofthesurrounds,unmovingandsilent.Fortheentiretyoftheconclavehehad remained static and unspeaking, not the slightest tremor or reaction toanything that was said or done. Yet for all his immobility there was a latentenergy in him, of a stormbehind a door that could be openedon awhim.Soutterly without involvement had he been that it was hard not to study him,waitingfor themoment forhisopinion tobeunleashedwithall the furyofanartillerybombardmentandfullaerialassault.AndyetevenwhenYvrainewashardestpressedheheldhistongue,truetohispromisemadebeforethetalkshadbegunthathewouldnotactuntilcalledupon.AboutthemsatandstoodseveraloftheYnnari,presenttomurmurappreciationordamnationas required,and toaddanundeniablephysicaledge toYvraine’spetition. They loomed when needed, touched hands to sword hilts and pistolgripswhenoccasiondemanded,butwere also ready to idle and relax to showgoodwillandleeway.ToYvraine’s rightwere the twinwarlocks from Iyanden. They had removedtheirhelmstorevealidentical,slenderfacesandarchedbrows.Theytriedtheirbest to interject their desires and demands into the conversation, often at themost inopportune times, and the vigour with which they delivered theseinterruptionsincreasedthelongertheywereignored,muchtotheannoyanceofeveryoneelsepresent.Outnumbered,thetwinswereutterlymercenaryintheirdialogue,leaningfirsttoonesideandthentheother,andreversingtheir temporaryallegiances in thebreadth of a twin-finished sentence, and occasionally departing in a thirddirection that stalled both lines of argument in return for some minusculeconcession.TheyshowednofavourfortheYnnari,treatingYvraine’sdiscoursenobetterorworsethanthatoftheZaisuthrans,theirloyaltynotsimplyforemosttoIyandenbutall-consuming.Opposite,uponchairsangledwithsubtlemeaningtodeflectanddistract,theirtables placed to affect openness or barriers, the Zaisuthrans had adopted a

strategy of attrition. Feeling comfortable on home ground, in control of theenvironment, theyheldbackanysignof theirneedsandofferedonlygrudgingaccommodation.Agreementwasrationedassipsofwaterinthedesert,extractedonlyatgreateffort.The secondarymediator, who had been introduced by the outlandish title ofScion-ElaborateNasithas,handledthevastmajorityoftheinteraction.Sheworethehigh-collaredattirethatseemedthefashionamongthehigherechelonsoftheHouses,hergownasilvery-redthatremindedofafishonemomentandalaserblastthenext.Acarefullyconsideredchoiceofattirethatallowedatwistoftheankle,straighteningofanarmorflickofahandtosendashimmerofmovementthroughhergarb.Nasithaswasinconstantmotion,alwaysadjustingherposture,leaningfirstononeelbowandthenthenext,ahiveofagitatedactionthatthreatenedtodazzleormesmerise.Shefrequentlyconsultedwithachoirofmonosyllabicassociatesthathadbeenswiftly introduced as chamberlains of the various Houses, whose outlookseemedthatofmournersattheremembrancesofthecraftworld’sgreatesthero,orperhapsparentschaperoningtheironlyandmuchbelovedchildonatrystwitha most precocious and rebellious adolescent suitor. Their stern looks anddisapproving head shakes absorbed the vehemence of many of Yvraine’soffensives, just as the flares and decoys of an aerial fighter lure the seekingprojectileorconfoundtheopticalsystemsofapursuingfoe.Occasionally thechiefof thedelegation,Monsattra,whohadbeenannouncedwith no rank, would deploy an intervention to shore up a failing or flailingdefence. Hewas that rarity among the aeldari, capable ofmatching deed andwordandthoughtsimultaneously.That is to say, he actually spoke his mind, an act considered the height ofbarbarityinmanycraftworlds,Iyandenincluded.Whensuchnakedopinionwasoffered, therewas little thatYvrainecoulddo;eitherretreatbeforetheopenadvanceorrespondinkindwithadeepertruthtohold her ground. Monsattra also assisted his aides in an ongoing capacity,deploying various moods, demeanours and expressions to reinforce Nasithas’argumentsordeflateYvraine’sassertions.Ontwoperfectlytimedoccasionshedeployedabriefsmirkwithalltheprecisionanddevastationofasniper’sshot.Insuchcircumstanceonewouldthinkprogresswasslow,butremarkablymuchwas achieved in the first quarter-cycle following the Zaisuthrans’ arrival.Iyanden and Zaisuthra shared a common ancestral language, but both had

developed a vernacular since their cultures had separated. Much effort wasexpended establishing a common frame of reference for the discourse – thewebway,thecraftworldsandthepassageoftime–beforeanythingofnotecouldbeagreed.Thenextsalvosfocuseduponthesynchronicityofthedelegation’sappearancenot long after Iyanna’s departure, untilYvrainewas assured that the spiritseerwasinsafehands,onherwaytomeet theestrangedmembersof theHouseofArienal. Yvraine let free nothing of Iyanna’s loss and history in that regard,despiteseveralattemptstoloosenhertongue.

Iyannadidnothavetogofarbeforeshecameuponacaverninwhichsheandothersof theYnnarihadbeendepositedby low-sidedskyskiffs.Severalof thetransportswere still there,dockedagainst the roughwall.Onemovedawayatherapproach,rotatingtobringitsboardingplatformtobearagainstastepbythefrontofthecave.Sheclimbedaboardandsatnearthefront,armrestingonthegunwale.The craft hovered there, bobbing gently as though a ship beside a gentlyshoalingshore,awaitinghercommand.Unlikethegroupmind,shecouldfeelthepsychicresonanceofthemachine,buthadnopointofreferencefromwhichtodirectit.Ahissandametallicscrapedrewherattentiontoadoorthatliftedawayonthehillside, forminga ramp into adimly lit tunnel.The fact that the aperturehadmadeanynoiseatallstoodtestamenttopoormaintenance,butthethoughtwasonlyfleetingassherecognisedthefigurethatsteppedfromwithin.Sydari.Shehadbecomeaccustomedtohissimilaritytoherfather–almost.Itstilltookaheartbeatbeforesherememberedthat itwasnotaspectreofArctai thatkeptappearingbeforeher.Iyannaremembered thewarningsofhercompanions,and though theirdoubtsirked her, she possessed enough self-awareness to remain on her guard in theHighLord-Guardian’spresence.‘An unexpected encounter,’ she said, knowing full well that there had to benothingunexpectedaboutitfromhisperspective.‘Thoughthegroupmindisclosedtoyou,itisnotblindtoyourmovementsandmoods,’confessedSydari.Heinclinedhishead,requestingpermissiontoboardtheskyskiff.Sheassentedwithaglanceandblink.Sydarididnotsitnexttoher,buttookaplaceontheoppositesideoftheaisledownthecentreoftheskimmer,

almostmirroringherpose,thoughslightlymoreinclinedandrelaxed.‘Youhavebeenspyingonus.’‘Yes. If you mean the groupmind of Zaisuthra has been monitoring you, toensurethatyouarewellanddonotstraytoofarfromwhereyoushouldbe.’‘Whatdoesthatmean?Areweforbiddentomovefreely?’Sydarisaidnothing.Hemovedhispalmtoagemsetintothebackofthecouchinfrontofhim.Itgleamedinrecognitionandaheartbeatlatertheskiffroseuptoshoulderheight.Withthefaintestmurmurofanti-gravenginesitslippedoutofthe cave, accelerating quickly. The wind tousled Iyanna’s hair as she leanedtowardsSydari,hervoiceraisedagainstitsincreasingrush.‘Whereareyoutakingme?’Afrissonofexcitementsetherbloodracingalittleswifter, though shewould be unable to saywhether fromcuriosity or anxiety.NeitheremotionwasdissipatedbySydari’sreply.‘Toshowyouwhatyouneedtosee.’Unbeknownsttoeither,beneaththebackseat,abovethewarmthradiatedfromthemainpropulsorunit,Aloryniscurledup,contentedbutalert.

TherewassomethingnotquiterightaboutMonsattra,norhisfellowenvoys,theVisarch decided. Their politeness was so sharp as to be weaponised, everygestureandwordofgratitudeabarbsunkintothefleshtoextractrecompense.Their manner was relaxed but attentive, a look the warrior had seen manytimes–theeyesofthoseawaitingbattle.Itwasnotfearoranticipation,notthepoiseof thoseexpectingperil inan instant,butwariness, foreknowledgeofaninevitableclash.Itmight have simply been theirmood, agitated by the vast changes about tobefallthemandtheircraftworld.Thoughtheytalkedoftheirreturnasifitwasnotofsignificance,andnoddedsagelytoeachnuggetofinformationabouttheothercraftworldsgleanedfromYvraine,itwasclearthattheyhadpassedacrosstheedgeofaprecipiceandwerewonderingiftheymightflyorfall.Therewashiddendesperation,hedecided.Theirforcedsmiles,theireagernesstopleaseyetnotgiveawayanythingofthemselveswasamarkofdirestraits.Itwastobeexpected.TheGreatRifthadunleashedmanyterriblethingsuponthegalaxyandZaisuthrahadclearlynotbeen immune.Distancealonewasnodefence against theGreat Powers.Alone in the darkness,what terrible eventshadovertakenthem?Whatlosseshadtheysuffered?Moreimportantly,asmallthoughtnaggedathim:whatpactshadtheymade?Hisbodydidnotmove,as immobileas themomenthehad takenupposition

nexttoYvraine,butinsidehismaskhiseyesnarrowedinsuspicion.Hefelttheflutter of his previous lives, the other souls that had beenLaarian theExarch.Ghost voices, felt but not heard, edged into his consciousness, pricking hisdistrust.Howexactlyhadsuchasmallcraftworldsurvivedforsolong,devoidofallies, shorn from theguidingprinciplesof thePathor the spiritvampirismoftheCommorraghans?Hethoughtabouttheirlackofspiritstones.NothingstoodbetweentheirsoulsandSheWhoThirsts,unlesstheirgroupmindwassomethingakintotheWhisperofYnneadthatboundtogetherthespiritsoftheYnnari.Orthesoul-leachofthekabalites and wyches… But the Visarch sensed nothing parasitic about thegroupmind, thoughhecould feel its loomingpresenceeverywhere,permeatingthestructuresaroundthem,seepedintothebedrockbeneaththefoundationsofthemanse.Andinthishefoundthetruesourceofhisunease.TheWhisperwasallbutsilencedbyitspresence,thelackofaninfinitycircuitcut off anything but the most rudimentary empathic link between Yvraine’sfollowers.LaariansensedthebrighterfireofYvraineandthesparksofthetwoIyandeniwarlocks,soulstouchedbyKhainethathecouldfeelacrossthebreadthofacontinent–butoftheZaisuthranstherewasnothing.Hisothersoulswrithed,makinghisbody feel likea cage forhis spirit.Everyinstinctscreamedthatallwasnotwell,buthecouldnotact.The Sword of Silent Screams twitched in its scabbard, or so it seemed. Hisfingersachedtofoldarounditsgrip,todrawittofreedomandunleashitsdeadlygift.Helonged,howhelongedtostriketheheadfromsincere,smilingMonsattra.Hewanted to see the envoy’s blood coursing from severed arteries, splashingcrimsonacrossthebalcony.SuchwasthecallofKhaine,notthemurmurofYnnead.Hequelledhisurges.Laarianwasgone,theVisarchservedadifferentmaster.

CHAPTER18

TRUTHSREVEALED

Theskyskifftookthemfromthemoorlanddomeanddownasweepingseriesofinterconnecting tunnels,heading,as faras Iyannawasable todiscern, towardstheouteredgeatthebowofZaisuthra.Theyskimmedpastfeaturelesshorizonsof bare basematerial unadorned by soil or vegetation, the air thin and barelyprocessed.Othertimestheyzippedthroughdarkness,onlythehalooflightfromthe skiff’s navigational lamps breaking the utter blackness of the unlit domes.Iyannacould feel the emptyexpansearoundher, remindedof themoment shehadpassedintothevoidontheshuttle.‘WhycanInotfeelyou?’sheasked.‘Whyhaveyouclosedyourthoughts,yourgroupmindtous?’‘Tokeepourselvessafe,ofcourse,’repliedSydari.Hisdeedsrancountertohiswords though, as Iyanna felt the faintest contact of hismind, the featherlightbrush of his consciousness next to hers. ‘Do not tellme that youwould stripawayyourdefencesifcircumstancewasreversed.’‘Cautionisjustified,’sheadmitted,pulsingathoughtintohis,reciprocatingthepsychicgesture.‘Onemightfeelthisbordersonparanoia.’‘Oh,itsurelydoes,’saidSydari.‘Althoughifoneisunderconstantattack,isitreallyparanoia?’BeforeIyannacouldaskwhatthismeant,theskyskiffpassedfromatransitwayinto a lit dome. It was not large; the crackle of the field overhead was closeenough that shecould feel theslightesthintofstatic fromitsdischarge. Ithadonce been snow-covered forest. In patches icy remains still clung to thesubstrate,splitandtwistedtreesjuttingdarklyfromthepaledrifts.Likeswollenveins, the crystal matrix of the craftworld ran through stretches of bare

foundation,abruise-likeblackanddarkbluestainedaroundit.Theoutwashof taintedpsychic energynearlymade Iyannagag.Shegrabbedthesideoftheskifftosteadyherself,herinnersensesassailedbyputrefaction.Itwasnotjustthewashofcorruptedpsychicpowerthatsweptthroughher,buttheinvokedmemoryof Iyandendespoiled, thepresentandspecific recollectionoftheLordofDecay’senergycoursingcancerouslythroughtheinfinitycircuitofherhome.‘Get.Me.Away.’Shecouldbarelyformthewords,herdesperationhurledasapsychicimperativeathercompanion.Eyesscrewedclosed,shegrittedherteeth,trying to steady her breathing, feeling that the cloying presence of decayconstrictedaroundherthroatandforceditselfdownintoherlungs.Herthoughtswerefullofvileness,apoundinginhertemples,aweightdraggingatherlimbs.Startledbyherreaction,Sydarifrozemomentarily,sweptupinthewashofherpanic. He half rose from his seat, torn between comforting Iyanna andmanipulatingthecontrols.Sheshrankbackfromhim,removingoneoption,soheplacedahandovertheovalgemandwilledthecrafttotakethembackoutofthedome.Unseen, the gyrinx slipped over the edge of the skiff as it slowed to turn,landing lightly on the ice-crusted grass below. Ears flat, eyeswide, it slinkedawayasthebuzzoftheskyskiffdiminishedintothedistance.

Itwas,typically,Monsattrathatmovedtheconclaveontoitsmainpurpose,withscandalousdirectness.‘Whatdoyouneedofus?’Yvraine spread the fingers of one hand, gently opening the fan in her lap aquarter-arc, themerest glimmer of the bladed edges a sign of discomfort. Shecould not allow the question to go unansweredbutwas loath to launch into alengthyexplanationregardingYnnead,thecroneswords,theGateofMaliceandtheWelloftheDead.‘We, that is my people, are seekers of a greater truth.’ Monsattra raised aneyebrowafraction,derailingherattempttoobfuscate.‘Centraltoourbeliefsarea number of artefacts, legendary pieces from the oldest times of the aeldaridominions.Zaisuthrahasdweltlonginshadowsthatwehavenotyetexplored.’‘Andwearehappytosharewhatwehavelearntinthattime,’repliedNasithas,takingup thecauseofZaisuthraagain.Herhands folded inher lap, indicatingthe opposite of her words, a gate closed to all inquiry. ‘Five lifetimes is aconsiderable period, it would help if you could bemore specific inwhat you

seek.’Yvraineleanedforwardsandsmiled,theexpressionalanceaimedatNasithas’throat.‘Yourwelcome to strangers has beenoverwhelming, andyour cooperation inthismore thanwe could expect. Ifwe could have access to your archiveswecouldsearchforourselves,forIwouldnotliketodragyourpeopleawayfromtheirownconcerns.’‘Such access would certainly speed up your investigations, but our recentexperience has unfortunately shown the incompatibility of our systems. ThegroupmindofZaisuthradoesnot functionalongside…Whatwas it youcalledyourpsychicnetwork?’‘Theinfinitycircuit.’Thewordsweresaideasily,butofferedwithreluctance.‘Ah,yes,theinfinitycircuit.’‘May I refresh your drink?’ Monsattra said suddenly, standing up. BeforeYvraine could answer, he stepped forwards, breaching the neutral groundbetweenthedelegations,totakeupaewersetonthetablebeforeher.Aheartbeatlater,theVisarch’shandwasabouthiswrist,theothergrippingthehiltoftheSwordofSilentScreams.‘My apologies,’ Yvraine said, quickly standing up also, a flick of the fancommanding her associate to release Monsattra. The Visarch hesitated for amoment, earning the admonition of a scowl for his tardiness before herelinquishedhisholdandretreated.Yvrainepickedupagoblet,redliquidjustbelowthebrim,andofferedittotheZaisuthran, who made great show of filling it with a few more drops. Themetaphorwasnotlostoneitherofthemandtheysharedalook.‘Didanyone speak toyouabout theHighlandsofDistantRepose?’heasked,turninginsuchawaythathismovementguidedYvraineasteptowardstherail.She complied with the unspoken invitation, perplexed but also intrigued.Monsattradidnotwaitforareply,butcontinuedtospeakasheconductedhertotheedgeofthebalcony.‘ItwastheprovinceofHouseAedasa,whosefondnessforthemelancholicborderedonthemelodramatic.’Hesmiledathisownwordplay,givingYvraineamomentinwhichtointerjectaquestion.‘Itisnolongertheirs?’‘Alas not,Yvraine.’The use of her namewas overly familiar, eliciting gaspsfrombothcontingents,butthepairignoredtheongoinginterplaybehindthem.‘Theytiredoftheirmelancholy?’

‘No,suchwastheiraddictiontothemorose,onemightbelieveitwasgenetic.IamafraidthatthelineofAedasafounderedandisnownomore.’‘Atragedy,foranycraftworld.’Yvrainestillcouldnothelpbut thinkthiswassome play tomanipulate her and did not comment further, fearing a potentialriposte.‘Butyouareofnocraftworld.’‘Iprefer to thinkthat theYnnariareofeverycraftworld,andallotheraeldarikindredstoo.’‘IncludingZaisuthra?Wearedivergent,andrathersetinourways.’‘We are the bridge the aeldari will cross to salvation,’ said Yvraine, sensinghonest invitation to espouse her greater mission. She looked at his sigils andamulets.‘Youcleavetotheworshipofdeadgods,Itotheawakeningofagodofthedead.’Heshowednooffenceatherdeclaration,thoughaflutterof grimacesfromtheZaisuthran contingent displayed sufficient scorn for this dismissal of theirreligion.‘Youthinkwehaveneedofagodofthedead?’‘Allmustbecome theReborn,or suffer thedeatheternal.’Awaveof the fanencompassed themoorlands. ‘HouseAedasa isnot theonlycasualtyof time, Iwager. You are no more immune to the slow decline of our people than anyother,thoughperhapsyourisolationhasshieldedyoufromtheworstofit.’Monsattrasmiledwryly.

Letting the integralanimal sensesof theskyskiffguide it towardsanavailableberthfurtherout in thearterialconduits,SydarimovedawayfromthecontrolsandlookedatIyanna.Virtuallycatatonic,shesatwithablankexpressionstaringunseeingintothetunnelahead.Herarmsclaspedtightabouther,protective,self-embracing.Herface,eveninitsslackness,unmistakablythatofanArienal,andto lookupon it as thevisageofa strangerwasanodd sensation.ThemomentSydarihadopenedthehatchwaybetweentheirshuttles–intheheartbeatsbeforewhen her questing thoughts had teased upon the shell of the groupmind thatshieldedhisthoughts–hehadknownshewasofthefamily.Ithadbeentoomuchtohopefor.Rumours,ofcourse.LegendsthatsomeoftheZaisuthranHouseshadmembersonothercraftworldsaftertheFall,eitherfromdisparate routs or subsequent intermingling in the short time before Zaisuthrahad fled for the Dark Halo. But after all this time, to find one in whom thebloodlinewasstillstrong?

Asheconsideredthis,heliftedafingertohercheek,whereasingletearrolleddown flawless skin. He caught the droplet on a knuckle and wiped it away,cautiouslestshestiratthetouch.Iyannadidnotmove,stilllockedinsideherownmind,intheplacetowhichshehad retreated when she had tried to make contact with the daemon-cursedpsychicvesselsofthelostdome.Why did she do that? asked Atalesasa across the groupmind. The inquiryresonated, echoed and reinforced by others inside the shared psychic cloud-thought.Theirpresencewasinstantlyheartening,soothingSydari’snervesafterthevexingepisodewithIyanna’sseizure.Sheisanexplorer,aseekeraftertruth,repliedSydari.Hesharedtheswellofaffectionhefelt,thethoughtamplifiedbysomewithinthegroupmind,rebuffedbyothers.Atalesasawasamongthelatter.Donotforgetthatsheisanoutsiderstill.Sheisofthefamily.Theoldfamily,notthenew.Notuntilshesharesourbloodagain.A clamour of sensations and voices reinforced this point, echoing the earlierdemandsforSydaritobringIyannabeforethegroupcouncil.Ihaveanotherway,asIhavetoldyou.Wedonothavetotakewhatweneed.Canyounot feelheremptiness, theyearning thateatsathersoul?Weare thepartthatismissingfromher,thebondthatwillbringheroutoftheclutchesofdespairandbacktothewarmthofafamily.Andthroughher,theotherswillfollow?Iyanna stirred, a whisper escaping her lips, but nothing that could beunderstood.Sydarisettledbackastheskyskiffslewedsidewaysdownalinkingconduit, drawn by homing instinct. The Iyandeni seer settled again, no morealertthanbefore,thoughherexpressionseemedmoreserene.Youtellme.SydariansweredAtalesasa.HowfaresMonsattra?He is being typically stubborn. Have the two of you made some bargain orwagerastowhichwillturnoneofthemtoourcausefirst?Wearebothpassionate,thatisallweshare.TheHousesofAshanaandDaethrosastandreadytotakematters further.Iftheleadersdonotacquiesce, thereareways inwhich the family can reachout toIyanden.Sydariconsideredthis,uncomfortableatthenotion.Wearenotanimals,Atalesasa.Itisbetterthisway.Further communicationwas interrupted by a lowmoan issuing from Iyanna.

Sheretchedasthoughviolentlyill,handsclutchedtohergutandthenrisingtoseize the sides of her head. But it was not pain – of the physical kind – thatwashedfromherthoughts.Sydaritappedintothegroupmindtouseitsstrengthtosiphonawayasmallpartof the seer’s emotions, as much as he could through the rigid discipline ofunconsciousdefiancethatkepthermindsafedespiteherdiscommodedsituation.AmemorybothrecentandoldburnedfearanddisgustthroughIyanna,turningeverythingwithintoash.

‘We both have need, or youwould not have returned andwewould not havecome,’ said Yvraine, looking Monsattra directly in the eye. If he wished foropenness hewould get it, but shewould expect the same in return. ‘I seek aportal,whichlegendholdstobeonZaisuthra,beyondwhich…’‘Thetruth?’‘Atruth.Perhaps.’‘Andwerequireallies.Wetriedtosurvivealone,butthedoomofourpeople,asyou say,has caughtupwithus.Ourdefences shudderbeneath the renewedattacks.’‘Attacks?’TheinterruptioncamefromMeliniel,whoforthegreaterpartofthedeliberations had been relegated to the background chorus. Now the autarchsteppedup,disruptingthebalancebetweenYvraineandMonsattra.ThedisturbancewasexacerbatedwhenTelathausandIyastarosealso.‘Ifitisperiloustoremain–’‘–weshouldbetoldeverything.’‘You are all quite safe,’ declared Nasithas, dragged to her feet in order toremain relevant to the exchange. She rallied quickly, turning retreat to freshoffensive,hernextwordsdirectedatYvraine.‘Whatdothelegendssayofthisportalyouseek?’‘In legend it is called theGate ofMalice,’Yvraine answered, but offered nomore.‘Andyouwoulduseittoseektheseartefactsofyourfaith?’Thequestionwasaccompanied by disquiet murmuring from the Zaisuthrans. In a moment ofinsight,Yvrainerealisedthatthisauditoryexpressionwassimplyadistraction,afeinttomasktheircommunionacrossthegroupmind.Theloomingpresenceofthecraftworld’spsychicnetworkdulledeverythingelse,sothatitwasaneffortforYvraineeventosensethemindsof theothersabouther,andrenderinganymeaningful contact impossible. She railed against this skewed battlefield, but

beforeshecouldputherangerintowordsMonsattrareaditinherexpression.‘Icannot inconscienceallowyoufreereinwithyour thoughts,’hesaid.‘Thegroupmind protects us as best it can, but to allow another withinwould be agraveweakeningofourdefences.’‘Defences thathavealreadybeenbreached,’guessedYvraine,her speculationconfirmedbyMonsattra’s pained expression. ‘Even the outer void did not putyoubeyondthereachoftheDarkPowers.’‘Itwasdealtwith,’Nasithassaidquickly,‘anditwillnothappenagain.’‘Butyoumustunderstandourcaution,’saidMonsattra.The Zaisuthrans knew nothing of the travails of Biel-tan and Iyanden, andothers, but by happenstance had comeupon the perfect argument.Though thememoryofthedaemonicinfiltrationsandassaultsonthecraftworldswasnotasfreshasithadbeen,itwasstillastarkeventinthemindofYvraine,areminderofthefoeshehopedtoextinguish.‘Iunderstand,’sheadmitted.Sheclosedherfanandturned,herelaborategownlike a breeze given form around her. ‘We are not inexperienced in suchtribulationsandwouldlendwhateverassistanceisrequired.’Nasithaswastakenabackbythisartfulturnofheradmissionintoarequestforhelp,andthistimetheconsultationoverthegroupmindwasnothidden.‘No,’declaredMonsattra.Hiscompanions flinched,blinkedandshudderedatthe rebuke, accompanied as it must have been by a similarly powerfulchastisement across the groupmind. ‘Wemust find common ground here, notseekleverageandadvantage.Yvraine,yourofferiswelcome,thoughwehavenocurrentneed.Asasignofourgoodwill,IcanconfirmthattheGateof MaliceisindeedlocatedonZaisuthra.’‘Butourgatewayshavenotseenusesinceourdeparturefromthegreaterdiskof the galaxy,’Nasithas added quickly, seeking to hold a little ground despiteMonsattra’s signalledwithdrawal. ‘Itmay leadnowhere.Orworse.Wecannotopenthatportalwithoutproperceremonyandcircumspectexamination.’‘Butyoucanopenit?’askedMeliniel,drivingasecondaryattackintoherlineofargument,exploitingthegapshehadunwittinglyleft.‘Itispossible?’Thescion-elaboratewasforcedtoconcedethiswithasimplenod.‘Letus tarryno longer,’ saidMonsattra, steppingawayfromthebalconyrail.He inclined his head towards Yvraine. ‘If the lady of the Ynnari and herlieutenants are willing, let us seek out this object of debate and see it forourselves.’MuchtimeinthecourtsofthearchonshadtaughtYvrainetoholdineventhe

slightest reaction, but at the thought of coming before theGate ofMalice shecould not suppress the tremble that set her gowns moving and momentarilyflutteredthefaninherhand.She thoughtofIyanna,briefly,butdecidedthatuntil thespiritseerhadsettledthe ghosts raised by the reappearance of her family, shewas better left to herowncourse.‘Yes,gentleMonsattra,’shesaidasevenlyasshecouldmuster,‘letusdothat.’

CHAPTER19

THEHOUSEOFARIENAL

The skiff raced from the dome, twisting at precipitous speed along theconnectiontunnel,drivenbythenakedimpulseofIyannatoflee.Shesatalmostdoubledover,heartthundering,gutdevouringitself,mindraw.Sydarislippedintotheseatbesideherandlaidahandonherarm,causinghertoflinch.Iyannashrankbackfromhispresence,pushingherselfagainstthesideoftheskyskiff.Hetriedagain,pulsinggentle,comfortingthoughtsthatsettledIyanna’smood,bringingcalmtotheturbulentpsychicaurathatswathedher.She tried to prise herself free of the horror that gripped her heart andmind,remembering mantras not used in a long time, giving focus that slowed thewhirlingabyssthatswallowedallrationalthought.‘…safe,’sheheardSydarisay.‘…thisisasanctuary…’She looked up, forcing her eyes open, but still darkness remained. Iyannarealisedherhandswereclaspedtoherfaceanditwasaneffortofwilltoforcethemapart,revealingtheconcernedfeaturesofherdistantrelative.Again the similarity toher fatherwas stark,but in thatmoment itwasalsoasalvation, a rock jutting up from the wash of psychic tide that threatened todrown her. She fixed on those features as though dragging herself from thebatteringsurf,takingstrengthfromthefamiliar.Iyanna’sbreathingslowed,herheartsettledandshewasabletobreakfromthatdarkgazetolookaroundthem.Theskyskiffhadbrought them intoa smallchamber,barely twice thesizeofherquartersonIyanden.Thelightwassoft,asonemightimaginetheinsideofabird’seggbeneathafullsun,thewarmthonherfacereassuringandwelcoming.

There was little else, just a pair of arches to each side, leading to broadertransitways.Across-junction,sheassumed,totraversefromonecorridortothenext.‘What was that?’ she asked, and even the question brought back a vividmemorythatsentanothershiverofapprehensioncoursingthroughthespiritseer.‘Our woe,’ Sydari replied with a quiet sigh. ‘The reason that we have beenforcedtoreturn.’Iyannacouldsensethateventhisconfessionwasnotcomplete,thatSydariwasholdingbacksomething.Inherdistraughtstateshewaswillingtoletitpass,forfearofopeningupherselftocounter-inquiry–questionsshewasnotyetwillingtoanswer.Theysatthereinsilenceforsometime,IyannatakingsimplecomfortfromthepresenceofSydari,whileheseemedcontenttoallowhertogatherherwitsandrecoverhermoodinherowntime.‘Zaisuthra is not safe,’ Sydari said eventually, moving away to sit straight-backedoppositeIyanna.‘Wethoughtwewere…protected,butthereisnosuredefenceagainsttheOldestPeril.’‘Iyanden is no stranger to the assaults of Chaos. No craftworld is.’ IyannasenseduneasefromtheLord-Guardianandfeltdrawntoassuage theguilt thatemanated from him. ‘Zaisuthra is not alone in knowing this woe, nor havingsufferedgreatlythepredationsoftheDarkGods’servants.OurownHouse…’Shecouldnotcontinue,throatdryevenasthewordsformed.‘Thetaint isuponus.’Sydarishookhisheadsadly,gazecastover thesideofthe skiff. ‘You felt it.Felt itmore thanany Ihave seen.Perhaps its stain runsdeepereventhanwefearedandweshallneverberidofit.’Iyannawantedtoofferwordsofcomfort,toassureSydarithattheeffectscouldbeexpunged,thatZaisuthracouldrecover.Shecouldnot.Theliewouldbetoomuch.‘Weareapeoplewreathedinwoe,’shesaidinstead,struckbyararesympathyfor her companion, moved by a certain naivety he displayed at his people’splight.‘TheservantsoftheLordofDecaybroughtruintoIyanden,fromwhichwehaveyettorecover.’‘Isthatwhy…?’Iyannanodded.Adeepbreathloosenedthetightnessinherchestandallowedthewordstofinallysoarfree.‘Becauseofthem,IamthelastmemberoftheHouseofArienalonIyanden.’It was such a release, to share this revelation. Iyanna wondered why she

thoughtithadbeennecessaryatalltokeepithidden.‘That is a tragedy,’ said Sydari. He looked away, lost in thought for severalheartbeats,perhapstryingtocontemplatetheimportanceofthisannouncement.Itwasonlylater,onreflectionoftheseevents,thatIyannawouldrealisethathehadbeencommunicatingthisinformationtothegroupmind.‘ThereissomewhereImustshowyou,aplacethatmightbringsomesuccourtoyourpain.’Shesaidnothingbutsignalledherassentwithasinglenod.AtSydari’s touchthe skiff turned and glided back into the transitway. It swiftly came to anascendingspiralthattookthemintothehigherlevelofdomes,beneaththestarlitgalaxy.Continuingtogainspeed,thecraftextrudedanewskin,sheathingtheminaprotective,streamlinedbubble.Thewindwhistledpastandthegroundspedbelow. Casting her gaze into the distance, Iyanna thought she saw in aneighbouringdomethemansewheretheYnnarihadbeenquartered,andrealisedtheywereheadingevenfurtheraway.There was no overt cause for concern, but Iyanna felt trepidation at thisthought.‘Whereareyoutakingme?’Sheaskedthequestionlightly,orattemptedto,butSydari’ssmileofreassuranceconfirmedthatheranxietywasplaintosee.The Lord-Guardian manipulated a control nodule and a projection screensprangintolifeonthecanopyabovethem,magnifyingadomedirectlyahead.Itwas dominated by high towers of silver, white, blue and grey, surrounded bymajestic peaks, foaming rapids and cascades of waterfalls, criss-crossed withscoresofbridgesfurtherencrustedwithturretsandbalconies.Itwasimpossibletotellwheretower,mountainandwatermet,theentireedificeseemedtofloatonaswatheofmist.‘Itisbeautiful,’whisperedIyanna.‘WehavenothinglikethisonIyanden.’‘TheHouseofArienal’scapital,theSkytowersoftheSundervale.’Sydarigazedwithaffectionattheimage.‘Myhome.’

Itwouldbefairtosaythat,amongsuchadisparateandpassionatecompanyasmade up the Ynnari close to Yvraine,Meliniel could be considered the mostlevel-headed.Bearinginmindthathisassociatesrangedfrombloodthirstyarenafighters to incarnations of demigodly power, warp-touched seers, estrangedrogues and enigmatic followers of the LaughingGod, this was not a difficultachievement.It was also true that his eternal fair-mindedness, calm demeanour and

dispassionateassessmentwereoftenaswelcomeasagyrinxhair inone’scup,but itwasa reputationhewasprepared toendure.Whenhehad finally swornhimself to the Ynnari cause it had been in the full knowledge that he wasattemptingtotameawildwave,andwouldfrequentlybebruisedandexhaustedbytheeffort.Forhimtherewardwasintheundertakingasmuchasthegoal–the unifying act of Ynnead’s awakening that crossed all divides that hadsunderedtheaeldariforseveralgenerations.He had trodden the Path his entire life. He had embraced the teachings ofAsurmen completely, turning his focus and steely will upon each part of histroubled psyche in turn. Numerous times he had returned to the Path of theWarrior,toexorcisesomefreshangstorbroodingbattle-fever,andeachtimehehadtornhimselffreeofKhaine’sgrip.Itwas this ironharddiscipline thathadbroughthimtothePathofCommandandultimatelytherankofautarch.Whichwas,ashiscompanionAzkahrfrequentlypointedout,asmuchofatrapasbeingafarseerorexarch.‘OneneverescapesthePath,’theformerdraconoftenquipped,‘oneissimplycarriedawayfromitinacasket.’Adepressing thought thathad, inother forms,occurred toMelinielmoreandmore before he hadmet Yvraine. One simply stayed upon the Path until onedied.Itwasacontrol,notanescape.Asurmenhadalwaysassertedassuch,thatthePathwasajourneytowardsenlightenment,notadestinationtobeachieved.AndthenYvrainehadhappenedandsuddenlyMelinielhadbeenassailedbyallkindsofpossibilities; theverynotionofRebirthhadat firstseemedgrotesque,somethingakintothesoulthirstoftheCommorraghans.Butitwasanend.Andhecravedanendmore thananythingelse,because if he couldnothavevictory, hewould rather die fighting than retreat onemore step.Hewould betrappednomore.Which was foremost in his mind when Yvraine told the autarch he was toremainatthemansewiththegreaterpartoftheYnnaricontingent.‘Itisaploytodivideus,tosplitournumbers,’hesaidwhentheOpeneroftheSeventhWayinformedhimofherplaninoneofthereceptionchambersofthegreat spread of halls and rooms. ‘The Zaisuthrans are far weaker than weexpectedandtheywantustobelieve.Whatbetterwaytogainadvantagethantoisolateourleadersfromtheirwarriors?’‘Prudencealltoooftengiveswaytoaparanoia,’saidYvraine.‘First, Iyanna, andnowyou,’ repliedMeliniel.He stoodbetweenher and the

main doors, shut behind him, his intention made clear though both he andYvraineknewhewouldneverphysicallystopherfromleaving.‘TheVisarchgoeswithme,andthesoulbound.’‘Depletingthestrengthlefthere,’theautarchpointedout.‘AtleastletusbringdowntheGhostWarriorsfromtheships.Kelmon…’‘TheZaisuthranswillnotallowit,’Yvrainesaidsharply.‘Suchwasmadeclearon their first meeting. They find our use of the dead disconcerting, and anyincrease in our numbers would be seen as intimidation.Why do youwish toprepareforabattlethatisnotyettobefought?Indoingsoyoumayprecipitatetheconflictweseektoavoid.’Meliniel steppedcloser anddroppedhisvoice, aware that itwaspossible theZaisuthranswereattemptingtomonitortheexchangeinsomefashion.Theirtalkof groupmind unsettled him in much the same manner that the Ynnari’sinteractionswiththedepartedwasdifficultfortheZaisuthrans.‘If itgoes ill,whatdoyou intend,mistress?Wehavenot felt a thought fromIyannasinceshedeparted.Withoutaninfinitycircuit,howarewetoremainincontact? Should the Zaisuthrans attempt something… amiss, the other wouldhavenowarning.’Yvraine walked around him, each pace measured and slow. Her fan flickedopen,obscuringher facebut for thecoldeyes thatglitteredbeneathherornateheaddress.‘WearehereatthesufferanceoftheZaisuthrans,Meliniel.Shouldtheydesireus harm, it will happen regardless ofwhatwe do. If youwish for safety andsurety I suggest you return to the halls of Biel-tan. If you desire to makeprogress,thenyoumustlearntogambleoccasionally.’He watched her leave and moved to the window. It was not long beforeYvraine, the Visarch and their entourage of the soulbound set off from themanse, along with the Iyandeni. They were escorted byMonsattra, the otherenvoysandseveralsquadsofsilver-and-purplecladwarriors.‘Azkahr!’Theautarch tookupAhz-ashir fromwherehehad leaned thespearagainst awall, and strode to the door to the adjoining bedchamber,where hissecond-in-commandwasasleepinanarmchair.TheCommorraghanwasonhisfeet in amoment, blade in hand, pistol in the other.He narrowed his eyes inannoyance.‘Oneshouldstepcarefullyaboutasleepingviper,fortheyareknowntostrikeonwaking.’‘Yes,I’msure,’Melinielsaiddismissively,innomoodforhislieutenant’sself-

aggrandisement. ‘Post guards at the perimeter and draw up patrol plans. ThevipersleepsnomorewhileonZaisuthra.’

Their craft swooped over roaring cataracts and wove down intricate valleyswroughtfrommulticolouredcrystals,expertlyaccentuatedbycliff-toptreesandcurlingfallsoffoliageandcreeper.Birdsdartedinandoutoftherainbowmistsaroundthewater,beakssnappingatiridescentinvertebratesthatbuzzedfitfullythroughthespray.Theyhummedpastisolatedmountainpeakretreats–walledcourtyardsholdingpainstakinglymaintainedfruittreesandornatelyarrangedstonegardens,linkedby winding pathways to secluded grey stoned cloisters beside shrine-likehermitages.Scatteredaeldarilookedupfromcontemplationorstudy,onbenchesor strolling the spume-fleckedpaths, briefly following thepassageof the skiffbefore returning to their scrolls and books, or turned to distant, unknowablesightsofmentalfabrication.‘Youhavenotspokenofthegods,’saidIyanna,notingatempledometoppedbyanemeraldincarnationofAsuryan’srune.Therewereothersacredbuildingscrafted from the bedrock or built upon the steep inclines and terraces thatsurrounded theSkytowers. ‘It is unusual for us to see activeworship of thosethatabandonedusduringtheWarinHeavenandtheFall.’‘Abandoned?’Sydarilookedangeredbythisassertionandtheskiffshudderedbriefly, diving through the thermals rising from a plateau of geysers and hotsprings.‘Shunned,youmean.Itwasourancestorsthatturnedfromthegods,nottheythatturnedfromus.’‘I believe differently, as most craftworlders, but the reality is that the godsdisappeared.Youworshiponlymemoriesandlegends.’‘A strange assertion coming from one sworn to a cause such as yours,’ theLord-Guardiansaid.‘Whatdoyoumean?’Iyanna’sgripontheseattightenedinreactiontotensioninSydari’smood.‘WhileIhavehostedyourenquiries,othersoftheGuardianCouncilhavebeenspeakingwithyourcompanions.Yvrainehasbeenforthcomingaboutthereasonfor your arrival and her role as emissary of this new god, Ynnead. I do notunderstandwhyyouwouldseektokeepthisfromme.’The skiff slowed,peelingback its canopyas it spiralled towards awhite andgrey mosaic landing pad situated close to one of the main towers, droppingsmoothly between the slender edifices.Thewindowswere tall andnarrow, an

aestheticthathadruledthestylesoftheaeldarisincetimeimmemorial,thepanesreflective,allowingnoviewofwithin,onlycloudsandrainbowsmirroredupontheirsurface.‘No deception was intended,’ said Iyanna, but her words lacked conviction.Perhapsnotdeception,but theomissionwasdeliberate.Shesought toexplain,and in doing so gave voice to doubts she had harboured since the arrival ofYvraine.‘TheriseoftheYnnarihasnotbeenwelcomeelsewhere,soitisnaturalthatweexpected resistanceherealso.Wedidnot…Zaisuthra isverydifferentfromwhatwethoughtwewouldfindhere.Wehavesomanyquestions,perhapsuncertaintyandfearwereallowedtoruleourthoughtstoostrongly.’ThesoundofbellsgentlytollinggreetedthearrivalofSydariandIyanna.Justtwoatfirst,butrisinginvolume,fromsurroundingpinnaclesandtemplehalls,untilarollingmelodyusheredthemtoagentlelanding,thebellsjoinedbygongsandchimes.Awhisperofachorusfloatedamongtheclearnotes,aquiethymnthatechoeddownfromthepeaksandtowers.‘Ihope that inopennesswecanproceed,’ saidSydari.Hestoodandgesturedfor Iyanna to disembark from the skyskiff. ‘From secrecy comesmisunderstanding, and from misunderstanding is sown the seed of discord. IwouldlearnmoreofYnneadandtheYnnari,andinreturnIshallsharewithyouthe truth of the House of Arienal. In such exchange may we find greaterstrength.’Iyannanodded,gratefulforthesincereoffer,andsteppeddownfromtheskiff.She looked about, finding herself in a courtyard surrounded by a low circularwall, past which could be seen the slopes and structures of Sundervale. Thechimesandbellshadceasedbutshehadbarelynoticed,theirringreplacedwiththehissanddistantthunderofwaterthatechoedfromcunninglyshapedchasmsanddropstoswirlinvolumefromonedirectionandthenanother.‘Ifyouwould?’Sydariofferedahand,palmdownlikeacourtieroftheancientdays.Iyannalaidhersuponitandtogethertheystrodetowardsanearbygate.

CHAPTER20

FORESHADOWING

Thehallwasdim,litbytwilightglobesthathoveredjustbelowthehighvaultedceiling, casting an ochre and orange suffusion over the interior. Dark timberslined thefloor,eachetchedwith linearpatterns incorporatingoldrunes,whosemeaningIyannacouldguessat–namesofthemembersoftheHouseofArienal.On the walls hung holo-tapestries that changed view depending on one’sperspective, so that mountainsides and valleys became columned bridges andslendertowers,rollingmeadowstransformedintoseasofdomesandsteeples.Other furnishingswere laid inclustersabout thehall,givingasenseofspacedespite the gloom – a few benches alongside each other along one wall, lowchairsandcouchesaroundtriosoftables.AtthefarendalightprojectionoftheHouseruneslowlyrevolvedabovearampleadingdownintothefloor,renderedasamandala,repeatingitselfwithinagainandagainuntil toosmalltodiscern.Greatdoors,opentorevealthecorridorsandchambersbeyond,spreadpatchesofpalerlightattheperiphery.Itwaswelcomingbutsombre,andnoticeablydevoidofoccupants.‘Haveyounotsignalledahead?’askedIyanna.‘Ithoughtyouwouldbringmoreofourfamilytomeetme.’‘Intime,Iyanna,butwemusttalkalittlemorefirst,’repliedSydari.‘Throughme,andthencethegroupmind,thereareotherslistening,learning,sothatwecanavoidrepetition.AndIwouldnotliketooverwhelmyou.’HeseemedcontenttoallowIyannatowanderthehallforashorttime,movingfrom one display to the next. Sydari murmured names such as the Vale ofWintering Sorrows, theWhitepeak and the Seven Daughters of Isha, and shepresumedhereferredtothescenesdepicted.

Guided by nothing more than whim, so Iyanna thought, she sat in a high-backed chair, carved frompalewood, besideoneof the tables.She lookedupandregardedtheholo-tapestryofabarerockyslopeuponwhichhadbeenraisedfivesilverdomes,theporticotothehalf-dugtemplevisibleinacleftinthebareground.Monolithsmarkedapathdown to theentrance, somewhatsinisterandunwelcoming.Shelookedawayquickly,unsettled,andnoticedahalfsmileuponSydari’slipsashesatopposite,handsclaspedinhislap,gazedrawntothedepiction.‘Somethingishumorous?’‘Aquirk,Iamsure,’hereplied,‘thatyouchosetoseatusbeneaththeShrineoftheSeveredHand.OneofourtemplestoMorai-Heg,theshaperoffates.’‘Hermythsweknowwell,andnodoubtfromthediscussionswithYvraineyoualsoareawareofourquestforthelastcronesword.’‘I am,andhenceperhaps it ismore thanchance thatbroughtyou to sithere,underthegazeofshewhosedigitsyouseek.’TheyspokemoreofYnneadandhowIyannacametobeoneoftheYnnari.Shewascautiousnottospeaktoomuchonaccountoftheothers,preferringthattheyexplaintheirownmotivesandbeliefs,forshewaswellawarethatthefollowersoftheWhisperingGodcametothecauseformanydifferentreasons.Inreturn,SydarispokeoftheHouseofArienal,ofwhatwasrememberedfromthetimebeforetheFallandtheearliestcyclesofZaisuthra.Hesharedthetalesofcommonancestors,rememberedonlyinnameonIyanden,foundersthathadembarkeduponthetradeship’sfirstdesperateflightfromtheaeldaridominions.‘Iamsure Ineednot spellouthowfraught those timeswere,’ said theLord-Guardian. ‘Disaster loomed everywhere and even thoughour ancestors did alltheycouldtoremovethemselvesfromthedegradationthathadbesetourpeople,theclawsoftheRavenousOnereachedfar.’He fell silent, gaze fixed upon the carved table between them, eyes movingalongthelinesoftheorganic,curvingdesignthatfolloweditsrim.‘We know what happened next,’ said Iyanna. ‘Our people were all butdestroyed.Lessthanoneinathousand,oneintenthousandsurvived.’‘But they survived, and Zaisuthra forged on, into the unknown beyond thebordersofthedominions.’‘Your founders did not think to return to see if anything remained worthsalvaging?’‘Why should they? They had escaped once, what price a return to thatbenightedrealm?Theycouldseewellenough,feelintheirsoulsthecreaturethat

hadbeenbirthedfromtheevilof those thathadremained.Theycontinuedon,seekingsomewherenew,somethingpurerfromwhichtobuildafuture.’‘Anoblethought,butasyouarenowhere,andbesetbythesamemalaisethathasengulfedsomanyofourpeople,amissionthatwastofail.’Sydarisighedandmethergaze.‘Wethoughtwehadescaped, inthevoidswherethelightofstarsgrowsdim,awayfromtheharshblareoftheotherraces’thoughts.Butitwasnottobe,andsowehavereturned.’

Meliniel stoodat thebalustradeofahighplatform,whichwaspartbridgeandpart terrace,stretchingfromoneof thesteeplypitchedroofsof themanse toaleaf-wreathedhillside,shapedstonegivingwayseamlesslytobarerockandthenearth. It afforded a broad view around three-quarters of the splay of rangedstoreysandwingsthatmadeupthemainbuilding,andfaracrossthemoorlandsbeyond.There was no reason to suspect attack, nothing in the behaviour of theZaisuthrans tomakehim think therewasanydanger.Even so,he scanned thegloomyskiesconstantly,hisgazeroamedacrossthefarheathlandlookingfortheslightestsignofsomething–anything–amiss.Behind him, Azkahr paced relentlessly. The former dracon was not one todemonstratenervousnessandhadcompliedwiththeautarch’spreparationswiththebareminimumofeffort,makingclearhisbeliefthatitwasawasteoftheirtimeandenergy.His pacingwasintendedsimplytoannoyMeliniel,whocouldnotignorethefootstepsapproachingandrecedingacrossthegreystone,northemovement in the cornerof his eyewhenAzkahr reached the limit ofhis self-definedpatrolandturnedwithadeliberatescrapeofaheel.The autarch fought the urge to speak out, preferring to suffer in silence thangivehissecond-in-commandanysatisfactionfromhisantisocialbehaviour.Instead,Melinielturnedhisattentiontothedispositionsofhispeople.Splashesof colour among the browns and greys of the manse’s environs betrayed thepresenceoftheeclecticsquadsunderhisleadership.Allwerewhereheexpectedtofindthem–aspectwarriorsandkabalites,formercraftworldguardians,arenafightersofCommorraghanddisparateroguesandpiratesfromnoacknowledgedkindred.Therewereevena fewExoditesnumberedamong them,drawnto theYnnariwhenYvrainehadcometothedefenceoftheirworld,Solomonesh-Asah.Theypatrolledinsmallparties,leadingpairsofraptorhoundsongoldenleashes,their

reptilianchargesattunedtoscentandthoughtbeyondthesensesofanaeldari.Itwasthemostremarkablehosteverassembled,herealised.Melinielhadtakenthe bizarre alliance for granted, but seeing themworking together beneath hiscommand, on a lost craftworld separated by another gulf of time and culture,broughthome thechallengeshehadovercome.The forcewas inconstant fluxwithnewrecruitsarrivingwhetherdirectfromcontactwithYvraine,orthroughthecontinualspreadof theWhisperingGod’scult to thecornersof thegalaxy.Add to that the losses towanderlust and battle and barely fifty cycles passedwhentherewasnotsomegaptobefilledornewadditiontobeincorporated.It was unlike the Swordwind of Biel-tan in every way imaginable. Thebattlehost of his home had been a thing forged of precision, a weapon ofcarefullyarrangedelementsguidedbythepropheciesoftheseersandthetime-honoured strategies of the autarchs. Between such rune-castings and ancientwisdomtherewasnotathreatthebahzhakhaincouldnotbeturnedagainstwithpredictable,lethalresult.The warhost of the Ynnari was more akin to a loose, ever-changingconfederationofpowers,anelemental force thatcouldbeswayedanddirectedbutnottrulycontrolled.Everymomentinbattlewasatestofhisabilities,eachencounter enrichingwhat he knew of his ownmind and the abilities of thosebeneathhiscommand.Itwasoftenfrustrating–dealingwiththelikesofAzkahrwas the least of it – but also far more rewarding than any campaign he hadwagedasawielderoftheSwordwind.Hewasalmostlostinthismusingwhenhiseyecaughtadarkshapeagainstthehorizon, moving swiftly beneath the scudding clouds. The messenger-wavesbuzzedwithalertsfromhissentriesandpatrols.Thedistantshaperesolvedintoanelegantornithopter,slowflapsof itswingspropelling the sleek craft towards the manse with an easy motion. His gazedrawnto thiscraft,healmostmissedseveralothervehiclesemergingfromthedomegatewaytohisleft–ahandfulofanti-gravtransportsthatlookedmorelikeprimordialseacreatureswithsegmentedslatsforshellsthantheflowingcurvesofthecraftworldsandbaroquestylesofCommorragh.Fish-like,armouredtailsswaying, theyslithered throughtheairmore thanglided, theblisterofweaponpodslikecrustaceanantennae.ThesoundoffootfallsbehindturnedMeliniel,tofindAzkahrhadgatheredthesquadofkabalitesthathadbeenstationedbythestepstotheterrace.‘Welcomingcommitteeforourvisitors,’saidtheformerdracon,baringgildedteethinacruelsmile.

‘Havetheraptorhoundpatrolsbroughtin,’saidMeliniel.‘Let’skeepeveryoneinsidethewallsforthemoment.’Azkahrhesitated,aquestioninglookonhisface.‘Youdisagree?’askedtheautarch.‘Ontheraptorhounds?No.Butletusnotkeepallofoureggsinthisprettynest,eh?Alwayswisetohaveaknifeoutofthesheathandinthesleeve.’‘Itakeyourmeaning,’saidMeliniel.‘Infact,youwillarrangemyhiddenblade,Azkahr. Swiftly, before our hosts arrive, send two raiders and asmanyof ourwarriorsastheycancarry.’‘IwouldasktheHarlequinsbutDreamspearhasnotreturnedfromwhereverhedisappearedto,andtheMidnightSorrowrefusetocommit toanythingwithouthim. I’ll sendSairua’swychesfromtheoutermost towerandLasaikkaandherhowlingbansheesfromthereserves.Aslenderbutdeadlyweapon,you’llagree.’‘Very well,’ said Meliniel, adjusting the image in his head of the warriorsarrayedabout themanse. ‘Wedarenotcommunicateoverconventionalmeans,wehavenowaytotelliftheZaisuthranshavewaystotraceit,orinterceptwhatpassesbetween.’‘The leash isoff, but they’ll not stray far,mymaster.’Azkahr’s sarcasmwasreinforcedwithanoverlyobsequiousbow,hisnosealmosttouchingthefloor.Meliniel ignored him and turned back to the incoming ornithopter. Thehawkshipwas still headingdirectly for them,angled toalightupononeof thelandingapronsclosetothemaingatehouse.Melinielsignalledforthekabalitestoaccompanyhimandsetofftowardsthesteps,determinedtobepresentwhenthecraftlanded.

Sydari and Iyanna talked a littlemore, but it seemed theyboth skirted aroundrevealingtoomuchoftheircurrentbeliefsandthoughts.IyannaknewnothingofwhattranspiredwiththeotherYnnari,norwhatSydarilearnedofthemfromthegroupmind.Shestartedtofeelaloneagain,disconnectedfromhercompanions.The isolation fuelledher suspicion that shewasbeingkept apart for a reason;that Sydari used the connection of the groupmind to lever some kind ofadvantage from her for other discussions ofwhich shewas being deliberatelykeptignorant.As she distanced herself from the conversation, the spiritseer became moreawareofhersurroundings.Iyannarealisedthatthehallwasnotquitebuiltasshehad first assumed. There were hardened plates on the walls, like ridges ofprotective bone, coloured slightly darker than the rest. Ribbing held up the

ceiling, not shaped vaults of wood or stone, mostly concealed within thesubstanceof thewallsbut the shadow justvisible to show thepresenceof theskeletonbeneaththesurface.Sheturnedherattentiontothetableandchairitself,whichshehadignoredonsittingbutnowrealisedwassubtlydifferentfromfurnitureonIyanden.Organicshapeshadalwaysbeenapartoftheaeldariaesthetic,butboththehallanditscontents took this a stage further with knuckle-like nodules, and skin-liketexturestautbetweenfusedskeletalinfrastructure.‘You seem perplexed,’ said Sydari, breaking her contemplation. ‘Perturbed, Imightsay,andnotbyyourrecentexperience.’‘I was examining yourmaterials and designs,’ she replied, indicating with awave of her hand. ‘Our bonesingers grow the foundations and spars thatunderpinallofIyanden,butZaisuthraseemsevenmorealivingthing.’‘Itis,’repliedSydari.Hestrokedahandalongtheedgeofthetableandathistouch tiny hairs quivered into view. ‘When our ancestors fled the dominions’worldstheyhadlittletoworkwith–fewbonesingers,asyoucallthem.Theydidhave,however,anabundanceoffleshcrafters,thosethatusedtoprovidethesectsandcultistswithextremephysicalmodifications.’‘I have met similar, from the kabals of Commorragh. Haemonculi they arecalled,dementedexperimentersforthemostpart.’‘I am glad to say no such dementia beset our founders,’ the Lord-Guardiancontinued. ‘While we possess wraithbone and other psychoplastics, ourancestors supplemented the meagre supply with artificially induced livingtissue.’Iyannacouldnothelpbutrecoilat thethoughtandherreactiondrewafrownfromSydari, the onlynegative expression shehad seenmarhis features sincetheirfirstencounter.‘Itisquiteinert,Iassureyou.Itisnomorefeelingorsentientthanyourrobeorthegemsyouwear.’Her reactionbetrayed the falsity of this comparison, earning Iyanna a deeplyscrutinising look fromSydari.TheLord-Guardiansaidnothing,buthis silencewasmoreexcruciatingthananyspokenexamination.Iyannaknewitwasplainthat she was concealing the truth and the desire to unburden herself of thesecrecywasgreaterthanherfearsofSydari’sreaction.‘Theyarespiritstones,’shetoldhim,pluckingonefromachainaboutherneck.Itwasapaleblue,litbyaglimmerofwhitefromwithin.Shehelditoutinthepalmofherhand,itspsychicauraasplaintoherasthelightitgaveoff,stronger

even. ‘This is Anasai Sorena, a poet, Striking Scorpion and navigator fromIyanden. He piloted a wraithblade for a short while in defence of our peoplebeforehisshellwascrackedbyatyranidclaw.Iwasabletosavehisessenceatthelastmoment.’‘Thesewords…’Sydarisatback,browcreased,thoughwhetherfromconfusionorconsternationwasnot certain. ‘Idonotunderstandallofwhatyou tellme.ButifyousaywhatIthink,thenthisstone,allofthesestones,containthespiritofanaeldari?’‘Except this one,’ said Iyanna, tapping a finger to the oval jewel upon thebreastplateofherrunicarmour.‘Thisismywaystone.Itisempty,butattunedtomyspiritsothatwhenmybodydiesmysoulwillbeabsorbed.’‘AndthisishowyouavoidtheRavenousOne?’‘That isa titleIhavenotheardbefore,butanaptone.SheWhoThirsts.TheGreatEnemy.TheMawEternal.FivelifetimeshavecreatedmanynamesfortheDoomoftheAeldari.’His keen look did not falter, silently repeating the question. Iyanna did notknowwhyshefeltsoreluctanttosharethetruth,andtoldherselfitwasnogreatsecreteventhoughhiseagernessforananswerseemeddisproportionate.‘Yes.ThewaystonesaretheAsuryani’slastguardagainstdamnation.’

By biomechanical grav-barge, Yvraine and her companions were conveyedacrossZaisuthra into the depthswhere the oldest parts of the craftworldwereburied beneath accretions of later generations. As they travelled, Monsattraexplainedmore of the craftworld’s unique nature. He told them of the proto-organic engineering they had turned to in the absence of wraithbone andbonesingers,showingthemthecartilageandsinewsbeneaththeglossyexteriorof their transport. It was strange for many of them to understand how thetechnologyoftheaeldari–theancientscienceofgravityandfieldmanipulationthatkeptthebargeafloatanddirecteditthroughtheskies–couldbecombinedwithlivingflesh.ForYvrainetheleapincomprehensionwasnotsogreat.GiftedherdeathsightbyYnnead,shesawthepsychicenergythatlurkedwithineventhesmallestatomoflivingtissue.TotheOpeneroftheSeventhWaythecapillariesandtendonsoftheZaisuthranconstructswerelittledifferenttothecrystalmatricesandsilicatefauxmusculatureofotheraeldaricreations. Itwas theanimusof thespirit, thesparkof psychic life provided either by sentienceof external source that gavethempoweranddirection.

Theypassedintotunnelsandhallsthathadbeentheoriginaltradeship.Likeallcraftworlds,Zaisuthrahadoriginallybeenalong-rangemerchantvessel,seedingdistantworldsofthedominions,conveyinggoodsacrossfar-flungstarsystems.It had grown since its first crewhad fled theFall, though far less so than thelikesofUlthwéandIyanden.Thedecreasing sizeof thepassages forced them todismount andproceedonfoot.‘Yourpsychicmatrix isveryweakhere,’remarkedYvraine.‘IcanbarelyfeelanythingofthecircuitthatmusthaveexistedwhenZaisuthrawasfirstreleasedinto the stars. I expected a webway gate would burn like a beacon in thisdarkness,butIfeelnothing.’‘Anecessarypartofour self-exilewasseveringour ties to thewebway,’ saidMonsattra.Heledthemalongacurvinggallery,betweentoweringrib-likesparsthatheldapartavastchamberbelowthem,litbythecrystalsattheheartofthecraftworld, a dapple of subtle greens and blues against the flesh-tint red.‘Beyondthefringeofthegalaxy,eventhewebwayfalters.Ittookmorepowertosustainthelinksthanwasgainedfromtheenergyflowingthroughthewebwaynetwork.Myancestors,whoforagenerationwerethesoleclaimantstothetitleofLords-Guardian,tookthedifficultdecisiontocloseallofthegates.Guardingthemhadbecomeaburdentooheavy.’‘Whatofyourrecentattacks?’saidtheVisarch.‘Ifthegatesaredisconnected,fromwhencedothedaemonscome?’‘Wehavesealsuponthem,thebestwardswecouldcreate,butthereisnosuredefenceagainstintrusionfromtheempyrean.Ourgroupmindservesasashieldto our thoughts, but alas it could not protect the entirety of Zaisuthra’s vastmatrix.Idonotknowhowthefirstholeappeared,unseen,butlikethesmallesttearitcouldbewidened,andwas.’Theyfellsilentatthethought,thecadreofsoulboundandIyandeniguardiansfollowing a short distance behind as Yvraine and the Visarch walked atMonsattra’sside,headingdeeperintothecatacombs.

CHAPTER21

UNCOMFORTABLEREVELATIONS

Thedowndraught fromone lastbeatof theornithopter’s red-and-goldenwingscausedMeliniel to retreat to the edge of the platform, towatch the hawkshiplandwithallthedelicacyandpoiseofalivingthing.Hecouldseesomethingofa recognisable structure beneath the tens of thousands of coloured feathers, askeleton ofwraithbone and other psychoplastics joined bywhat seemed to beactuallivingtendonsandmuscle.Hecaughtamurmurofdisquietfromsomeofhiswarriorsanddirectedasharpglancetowardsthemtosilencetheirchatter.The chest of the ornithopter opened up, parting like a door to reveal a litinterior. Three Zaisuthrans stepped down from within, garbed in the heavycloaks and coats common among the craftworld’s inhabitants, cowls lifted toleavetheirfacesinshadow.Itwasapeculiaraffectation,atoddswith theusualoverbearingvanityof theaeldari. Though many were the occasions the folk of the craftworlds andCommorraghdonnedmasks,adoptingvariouspersonaascelebrationorlifestyledictated,feweverhidtheirfaces,realorartificial.As the delegation approached closer, their pinched features could be seen,hands clasped together tight across their chest. Their body language radiateddeference,butalsodefence,prickingtheautarch’s suspicions.Meliniel recognisedall three, introducedearlierasHouseConversers,heraldsof theLords-Guardian.Thefirstof theirnumberwasAtalesasa,aide toSydariArienal.He took a step, anxious to hearwhatAtalesasa had to say. Something in theautarch’sdemeanouralertedhiswarriors,whobroughtuptheirweaponswithout

acommandvoiced.The threeHouseConversers stopped immediately, the air bristlingwith theirdistrust.‘Wehaveenoughgrievanceswithoutouralliesbearingarmsagainstus,’ saidAtalesasa,comingforwardsagain.‘Apologies,’saidMeliniel,signallingtohiswarriorstostanddown.‘WithbothYvraine and Iyanna removed from my sight, I am prey to my nervousdisposition.’‘Understandable,’repliedtheHouseConverser.‘OnbothaccountsIcanassureyou that your companions are safe, but there has been an unfortunatedevelopment.’‘Howunfortunate?’The three House Conversers formed a triangle, the two lesser envoys at theshoulders ofAtalesasa as though aimed atMeliniel. Hewas conscious of thespearinhishand,andthebodyoftroopsathisback,wheretheemissariesborenoobviousarmamentandcamewithnoescort.‘You recallMonsattra told youof our recent difficultieswith intrusions fromthepowersofthedarkabyss?’‘Daemons…’‘A presence, nothing more,’ one of the other conversers said hurriedly – anaeldaritheautarchrememberedasShasiayufromtheHouseofGatheal.‘Aresurgence,’Atalesasaclarified.‘Thetaintoftheirlastattackwasnotquiteexpungedandnowrenewedactivityseekstoexploitanyweaknesstheycanfind.The groupmind is directing efforts to thwart this and eject anymanifestationsthatmightoccur.’‘Manifestations?Youarespeakingofcorporealdaemons.’‘Yes,thatisadanger,thoughremoteatthepresent.’

Azkahr watched with slitted eyes, his hand fidgeting close to the grip of hissplinter pistol. InCommorraghonewould havenever allowed a stranger suchaccess,welcomedintotheheartoftheir,albeittemporary,citadel.Thedrukharihadhonedsuspiciontoafineart,bothoffoeandfriend.Infact,thedrukhariword foralliance, inhazkhain, translated literally as not-currently-enemy. It was not only that any contract or bargain was only as good as theweapons that backed it, it was to be expected that one or both parties wouldrenegeontheirobligationsthemomentasituationmadeitworthwhiledoingso.InCommorraghthefluidnatureofsuchdeadlypoliticswasthebloodyoilthat

kept the entire despicable machine working. For those that had come to theYnnari,itwasahardlessontolearntrust,tofeelpartofsomethingbeyondself-interest.AgoodmanyCommorraghanshadnotyet reached thatpoint, servingYnneadonlyindefenceoftheirownsouls.Whether selfless or selfish, all Ynnari strived towards an ending, a place offinal rest. Azkahr was no better or worse than most, though elevated by thefavourofYvrainetoapositionofsomeprominence.Atthattime,watchingtheZaisuthrans,hesquarelyplacedthemininhazkhainterritory.Theonlythingthatremainedtobeseenwaswhowouldbreakthepactfirst.Hetriedtoreadtheenvoys’pallidexpressionsbuttherewaslittleenoughtobeseenwithinthedarknessbeneaththeirheavyhoods.‘Wearesure thatyouaremore thancapableofprotectingyourselves,butwewouldberemissasyourhostsnottosafeguardyourpresence,’Atalesasasaidashe gestured towards the transports that skimmed nearer over a ridge of darkmoorland.‘Wemustalsoprotectwhatisours,wearesureyouwouldagree.’Azkahrcoughed,awarningtohiscommander,wishingquiteferventlythathepossessedthetelepathyofaseer.

MelinieldidnotneedtheCommorraghan’sreflexivedistrusttoalerthimtothedangersofallowingarmedZaisuthranswithintheboundaryofthemanse.Yethehadnoreasontorefuse…‘Atemporaryprecaution,’thethirdofthegroupassuredhim–theenvoyoftheHouseofZaitroka,Lisatja.Sheraisedahand,herskeletalfingersbrushingbackawisp ofwhite hair fromher thin face. ‘Without any of our people here, thegroupmindcannotdetectanypotentialinsurgencebythecorruptingpower.’‘IyannaandYvrainewillbereturnedtoyoushortly,assoonasitissafe,’addedAtalesasa. ‘Due to the integration of our groupmind with Zaisuthra’s energysystem,wemust keep inter-dome travel to aminimum, lestwe unconsciouslyopenapathwayforthisintrusivepresencetoexploit.Forthetimebeingonly,Imust reinforce our request that you do not stray beyond the limits of theHighlandsofDistantRepose.Andpreferably,youremainonthegroundshereatWithershield.’Lookingpast the trioofheralds,Meliniel spied the transportsundulating toastopbeforethelowouterwall.TheirbulbousfrontsopenedtodisgorgeseveraldozenZaisuthrans clad in longgrey coatswithhigh collars,wornover purplebodysuits that slid with morphic plates of armour. Their helms were all-

enclosingandhigh, like thoseofcraftworldguardians familiar toMelinielandthe others, but with serrated ridges upon the brows and pronounced muzzlegrilles.Thebannersoftheirhousesflewatthebacksofthesquadleadersandthebright badges of their allegiance to Zaisuthra was marked upon their long-barrelledlasweaponsandthescabbardsofthebladesattheirhips.With themcameanassortmentofheavierweaponspulledonanti-grav sleds,whichtheofficersstartedtodirecttovariouspointsabouttheperimeter.Thosethatcamewiththesesupportplatformsseemedsurgicallyorbionicallyadjusted.Theyheldelegantpistolsandswords,orgildedlasrifles,whilefromundertheirheavycloaksadditionallimbsworkedthecontrolsoftheweaponsleds.‘Ofcourse.’Melinielhatedtosaythewords,buthecouldnotallowhimselftobeswayedbybaselessparanoia.‘Letushopethatsuchprecautionisnottested.’‘Aprecaution,asyousay.Nothingmorethanthat.’

Iyanna hesitated to ask the obvious question, but her reluctancemade it plainwhatshedesiredtoknow.‘Wehaveourowndefences,’Sydariconfirmed.‘Thegroupmind.Itisinallofusandpartofusisheldwithin.Shouldoneofusdiethestrengthoftheothersisenoughtokeepthenewlyseveredspiritfrombeingdevoured.Inthis,Zaisuthra,ourfleshmelding,isaboon.’‘Iamaspiritseer,anexpertinthetransferenceofsoulsandpsychicpotential.IdonotunderstandhowyoucouldsimplyprotecteachotherfallingintotheabyssoftheGreatEnemy.Evenourmostgiftedseershavenotthepsychicstrengthtoresistthatimplacablepull.’‘The groupmind is greater than its parts, Iyanna,’ Sydari explained, leaningcloser, hand hesitantly seeking her arm once more. Now recovered from herordeal,sheallowedittosettle.‘Itisathingofitself,thesoulofZaisuthra.’Therevelationstunnedherforseveralheartbeats,thoughasherthoughtssettledsherealiseditshouldnothave.WasnotYnneadagodconjuredfromthemassofthe eldar dead? Perhaps Zaisuthra held another key to understanding how theWhisperingGodmightbeusheredintowakefulness,beyondpossessingtheGateofMalice.‘That is remarkable,’ she said, careful to moderate her enthusiasm. ‘It alsoexplains why none of us can connect with the groupmind, if this oversoul iskeepingusout.ApsychicentitypowerfulenoughtoresistthedrawofSheWhoThirstswouldhavenoissuewithfendingoffanylesserpower.’‘In truth, I am not sure if the groupmind could willingly allow one not of

Zaisuthratomeldwithitspresence.’Theunspokenthoughthungbetweenthem,refusingtodissipate.‘Ifitwerepossible…’Iyannabegan,buttrepidationsilencedher.SheremindedherselfthattheLord-Guardianwasastranger,evenifhesharedthenameoftheHouse of Arienal. The groupmind was an unknown, its powers and intent asinvisibletoherasthechamberbeyondthewall.Butitwasalsoachanceforconnection.Ifitwaspossible,ifshecouldattachtothe groupmind of Zaisuthra there was potential for something far greater, farmoreimportantthanthediscoveryofamythicalgateandtheuncertainpromisesthatlaybeyondit.Her heart ached to share its burden. It seemed an age since she hadwalkedupontheAvenueoftheDead,thoughinrealityithadbeenlessthanacyclesinceshe had set foot on Zaisuthra. It was churlish to think of such a thing whenbefore her sat a living member of her family. More than that, here wasopportunity tobecomepartofsomethingmore intimate than thesharedfateoftheYnnari.Andwhatoftheirtechnology?Whatmightbedonewiththewraith-knowledgeofIyandenandtheZaisuthranfleshmelders,inbringingbacklifetotheunliving?The spiritseer held up a hand and tookoff the glove, exposing slenderwhitefingers.Hesitantly, Sydari raised his own. The rings gleamed with an inner light,turninghisdigitstorainbows,theiroutlinealmostlostintheambientpower.TheylookedateachotherandIyannalongedtotouchhisfingersmorethanshehad desired for anything. She thought for a heartbeat that she saw somethingdarkerinhisgaze,alookofcrueltriumph,butamomentlaterhishandtouchedhersandtheybecameone.

Alorynisstalkedclosertothebabbleofmindsneartheouteredgeofthedome.Like Iyanna, the gyrinx could feel the permeating unpleasantness of Chaoscorruption.Theairwasheavywithit, thegroundunderfootslickwithitstaint;every particle around him noisome to his highly attuned alien senses. UnlikeIyanna,Alory niswas used to such disturbances, having travelledmuch at thesideofYvraine,oflateintotheGardenofNurgleitself.Thecloyingenergythatsuffused the domewas noworse than the afterstench of that excursion on thebodyandmindofhismistress.Thebobbing,attractivethoughtsoftheZaisuthransdrewthegyrinxcloser.Heflattened his body close to the ground and reached the sanctuary of a twisted

bole.Scampering into the lowerbranches,blue-furredbodyhugging the rottedwoodclose,henestledsoundlesslyintheshadowsandwatched.There were three aeldari, their thoughts just the barest flicker of a coronaaround them. This was odd, very different to the companions Alorynis hadaccompaniedoflate.Yvraineshonewithanicycold,theVisarchsteepedintheblood of his victims, Meliniel a beacon of blue fire and martial pride. Eventhough theyeachhadgreat strengthofwill, somemeasureofpsychicmasteryovertheirthoughts,theirenergyleaked.Theseaeldari…Thegyrinxcouldbarelysensethem,andflickedoutatonguetotastetheair,tryingtodetectmoreoftheirthoughts.Therewassomethingelse.NottheChaostaint.Thatwaseverywhere,butnostrongerherethanintherestofthedome.Somethingalien.Theaeldariworkedonanexposedstretchofcrystallatticework.Theunderskinofthedome’sfloorhadbeenpeeledbackinthickrolls,exposingpurecrystal,avein-like tracery of the network running black through it. They mutteredincantations and moved the charms of Isha and Asuryan over the infectedconduit.Thetipsoftheirfingersandtheamuletsaroundtheirnecksgaveoffthedimmest gleam, little more than the background hiss of psychic power, butenoughtoseepintothecrystalbetweenthem.Creepingcloser,Alorynissensedthepurging.Theblackfaded,evaporatingintothe surrounding bedrock, forced from the conduit by the pressure of theZaisuthrans’enchantment.Sensesstraining, thegyrinx tried to taste theenergythat powered their healing ritual, the essence the Zaisuthrans called thegroupmind.Itwasineachofthem,ahard,unyieldingknotinsidetheirthoughtsthatbarredalldeeperexamination.Whiskers trembling, Alorynis edged further along the branch, lured by thestrangenessoftheZaisuthrans.Theirwordsvergedonnonsense–evenmorethanthegarbledramblingsofhismistress and her not-mates – but their effect was clear. The blessings andintonationsdrewforththepowerofthegroupmind,givingitshapeandpurpose.But its energy did not stem from the crystal circuit, like the craftworlds thegyrinxhadfrequented,anditdidnottapintotheyawningchasmofthesidewaysrealmwhereitsmotherhadspawnedit.Thepsychicpulsecamefromtheaeldari,and yet not. They were generating the gestalt field but not they alone. Thehardnessatthecentre,theshadowontheirspiritsmaskedthedeepersource.Perplexed,focused,Aloryniswasnotpayingheedtohissurroundings.

Almost too late he sensed the change in the environment. Where he hadwatched, now he was being watched. Or sought. The presence that quicklysuffused the dome had not located him yet. Like a roaming searchlight, themalignseekerrovedbackandforthovertheartificialtundra,cracklingalongthepiecesofuntaintedcircuitry,disseminatingitselfintothemindsoftheclustersofaeldaripsychicengineers.Thenearestgroupstoppedastheamorphousenergytouchedthem.Theglowoftheirauraswitchedfromanascent, tamebronzetoaharshpurplefleckedwithblackandred.Threat.Thegyrinx’sresponsewasinstinctualandinstant,sendingit fleeingdownthetrunkofthetreeandintotheconcealinggrass.Behindit,theZaisuthransstoodup from their work and cast their gazes across thewilderness, shielding theireyesagainstthewhiteglareofreflectivesnowandcrystal.Alorynisknewbetterthantostop,ortocheckwhetherhewasbeingfollowed.Hewasapredatorthathadbecomeprey,andran,dartingthroughfallenhollowlogs, boundingoverpilesof rocks and slalomingbetween the stemsof thornybushes.His rapid progress was not enough. The searching psychic force waseverywhere, bubbling along half-frozen brooks, pulsing through the ice-linedarteriesoftrees,staringfromthereflectivesurfacesoficiclesandfrozenpools.Retreatbecamerout.Hormonesraced,turningAlorynisintoabluebluragainstthepaleness.Ahead,thetransittunnelthatbroughttheskiffloomeddarkandwelcoming.Ina barely self-aware part of the gyrinx’s brain he knew hewas a vast distancefromhismistress.Shewasnotevenaflickerofspiritontheedgeofhissenses.Fearpropelledhimfaster thananyplan, runningfor thesakeof running.Thedarknesswassanctuary.Likeawildfire scouringall in itspath, themanifestingpsychic entity flowedoverthehillocksandvalleys,unstoppable,gatheringmoreandmorepower.Alorynis was just a few bounds away from the safety of the tunnel, thedisembodiedgazeofhishuntersomedistancebehind.Therewasnorelent.Sensesalreadytaut,stretchedtosnapping,Alorynis’entirebeingwasfixedoneludingthepursuer.Itwasforthisreasonthatforthesecondtimesinceenteringthedome,thegyrinxfailedtodetectacloserthreat.Even as the felinid scampered into the darkness of the tunnel, something

screechedanddroppedontohimfromabove.

CHAPTER22

THESHADOWSDARKEN

Therewasresistance.IttookamomentbeforeIyannarealisedshewaswrong.Itwasnotresistance,itwasreluctance.Hers.The groupmindwas unlike anything she had experienced. The spiritseer hadexpected something like the gestalt of Iyanden’s infinity circuit, perhaps lesssuffused but also far smaller in scope. What she encountered was far moreaware, the pinpricks of tens of thousands of individualminds turned inwards,focused through the lens thatwas thecentreof thegroupmind,able tooperateindependentlyandinterdependentlyatthesametime.Trulyaforcegreaterthanthesumofitsparts,thegroupmindshifted,becomingaware of her through the touch of Sydari.Around them the hall fell to greys,barely seen, the sound of the waterfalls and trilling birds muted. Sydari’sthoughtsmergedwiththeswellofpotency,stillclosebutnolongerthedoorwaythrough which her mind entered the shared firmament. Iyanna barely felt thechairbeneathher,thewarmthofSydari’sfingertips,sweptupintheembraceofZaisuthra.Shedidnotbecomeonewithitatfirst.Itsurroundedher,elevatingherthroughthe psychic plane. Energy converged from along psychic neuralways, morevibration than the cold power of the crystal infinity circuit,more present andimmediatethanthedistractedforceofthedead.Vitality. The groupmind was indeed alive. It existed outside, beyond thetrappingsoforganicpsychiccircuitry,aboveeventhenucleiofthemindsoftheZaisuthrans.Thewarp.

Thegroupmindexistedintherawwarp.TherevelationsentacoldshudderthroughIyanna.Shewantedtobreakfree.Thewarpwasavoidsuckingherin,adarknessthatthreatened to extinguish her light. It was imposs ible to exist here, laid barebefore the full force of Chaos, exposed to the hunger of the Great Enemywithoutruneorward.Yetshelived,shecontinued.Buoyedupbythepowerofthegroupmind,Iyannawas cocooned, held safe from the ravening eye that sought her, eclipsed fromviewbythewarmshadow.Andwith this realisation, in accepting the protective power ofZaisuthra, shefeltherselfslipdeeperwithin,likeaslumberinginfantdrawnmorefullyintothecovers,feelingnotblanketandsheetbutthehalf-dreamedclaspofafatherandmother.Acceptance.Hermortalbodyshedatear,buthermindfloweduponmoreelevatedplanes,far removed fromrecognitionofherphysical shell.She shared the loveof thegroupmind, and felt the kinship that knitted together all ofZaisuthra.Close athandburnedtheheartofSydari,andabouthimwovetendrilsoffamiliaritythatwere the othermembers of the House of Arienal. But there was no edge, nobreak between one House and the next. In bloodline and thought, ArienaltouchedupontheotherZaisuthranfamilies,subtlyblendingfromonetothenext,thewholecontinuousmassslowlybecomingasingularity.Iyannacouldsoeasilybepartofit.Inthecentreofthegroupmindaneffulgenceoflovebeckonedtoher.Itwasthefocus,thehubaboutwhichthegroupmindspun,anditwasfromthisbeingthatsprangattentionandlifeandphysicality.Itwasthenodeandthesourceatone,immobilebuteverywhere.Aguidingforcebutalsoablanknessontowhichherfearscouldbeprojected.Sydari was with her, and so were the other Zaisuthrans. They coaxed her,biddinghertoopenherselfuptothegroupmindasithadrevealeditselftoher.She resisted, though it pained her to do so, like refusing the hug of a child.There was an undercurrent of something amiss, a non-specific but warningsensationthatquiveredbeneaththesurface.Conflict.Notwithinthegroupmind.Itwasapoolofserenity,calmandwelcoming.Buteddiesofcounter-currentsstrainedattheedges.Comewithme.Sydari’sthoughtsweresuddenlysharpandclose,abrightlight

among the gestalt entity. Iyanna sensed his invitation even as she felt theirfingersentwineandherbodyrisewithoutvolitionfromthechair.This…Shecouldnotformthethoughtcoherently.Iwas…Donotbeafraid.Comeandseetheheartofthegroupmindandthenyouwillunderstand,andyouwillknowfreedomfromyourfears.Thespiritseerstruggledtoaccesshermortalsenses.Asthoughrousingfromadeepsleepsheblinkedandtriedtofocus, tobringclarity tothehazeofcolourbesideher.Thesmudgeresolvedintothefeaturesofherfather,solemnbutnotunkind.Notherfather.Sydari.She fell into his gaze, feeling the full power of the groupmindbehind it, theprotective depths waiting to shelter her from the harshness of the universe.Within,voicescalledhername.IyannaArienal.Distantsister.Yourfamilyawaits.She let Sydari guide her by the hand, followingmute and acquiescent a stepbehind as they passed down the ramp of the hall and into a gallery. Theycontinued,throughchambersandcorridors,butshehadlittlesenseofwhereshewasgoing,norcouldsheholdontowheretheyhadbeen.Alreadythememoryofthewelcomehallfaded,ashiftingrecollectionofcolourandlittleelse.Thestrengthofthegroupmindgrew.Itbecamemorecondensed,likepressureunderwater,growinginthicknessaroundherasshenearedthefocalpointofitsmajestic broadcast. She dimly recognised where she was – not from anyknowledgeofZaisuthrabutrememberedfromapastlifeonIyanden.Hertimeasanaspectwarrior.Bloodtaintedthesoulof thecraftworld, ironranthroughitsveins.The shrines of the Bloody-Handed God, chambers of the Avatar of KaelaMenshaKhaine,LordofMurder.Aquiet, suppressedpartofher started tonagat thedocilemajority. Itsdreadwas only part-formed but urgent. Ghost flickers of mountaintops with domedtemplesandcolumnedarcadesleadingtopantheonshrinesroseupfromrecentrecollection.Theyworshippedtheoldgods.

Alorynis rolled, claws flashing to meet his attacker. In the gloom even thegyrinx’sexcellentvisionpickedoutonlyavagueshape,alittlelargerthanhim,withganglingarms.Thoughsightwasoflittleuse,Alorynis’othersensesidentifiedhisattackerjust

aseasily.Scent: the wet-fur, dank smell that had accompanied his mistress after hermeetingwith thegrey-mindedaeldari thathosted them.Astench that clung totherobesandcloggedthenostrils.Mind:awhirlingblueblurofactivity,burningwithalien intensity.Theothercreature was the opposite of the gyrinx, an agitator rather than a soother,dominatingratherthanempathic.Touch:vice-strongfingerssnatchedatAlorynis’forepaws, tryingtograbholdof the agile feline. He spasmed, using a twist of the back to regain his feet,hissingwildly.As well as the physical assault, thrusts of psychic intent lashed againstAlorynis’mind.Cruelty andmalice slashed against the gyrinx’swards, battedawaywithaflareofanimosityfromYvraine’smind-companion.Claws found flesh, tearing a strip from the creature’s leg, eliciting a yowl ofpainaccompaniedbyasurgeofintensemalignancy.Itspsychicattackwaslikeasmothering,suffocatinghandtryingtoblotoutallotherthoughtevenasnimblefingerstriedtoseizeholdofthegyrinx’stailandear.Itstouchsentshuddersofrevulsionthroughthefeline,energisinghimtoflight.Alorynishadtakenonlyafewboundingstepswhensomethingcurledabouthisleft hind leg. Irresistibly strong, the tetherwoundup to thehip,while anotherloopeditselfaroundthegyrinx’sthroat,slowlybutsurelyconstricting.Somethinglikeawetchuckleresonatedinthedark.Spittingandclawing,Alorynistriedtoripfree,buteachmovementbroughtlessbreath as the tendril abouthis throatwound tighter and tighter.Morequestingtentaclessnakedaboutwaistandforelimbs,draggingthefelinedowntowardsaquiveringflesh-floor,slowlysqueezingthelifefromhisbody.Hot, rank breathmisted over his face, the blur of psychovision revealing theblunt,apelikefeaturesofthegyrinx’sassailant.Lungs burned. Breath almost gone, windpipe tight. Phantasms of light andpsychic power danced in the gyrinx’s sight and thoughts, conjured byasphyxiation.Desperation swelled but brought no release despite a brief resurgence ofwrigglingandhissing.Adimglowsilhouettedtheleeringcreatureandtheswayinggrowthsaroundit.Auditoryhallucinationfollowed,theillusionofadistant,echoingvoiceraisedinsong.

CHAPTER23

INTOTHEHEART

ThesmellofhotmetalandbloodlingeredinIyanna’smemoryeventhoughshecametohersensesinwhatappearedtobethegulletofsomevastcreature.Thewallsthrobbedwithbloodvessels,orwhatmighthavebeenthoughtofasveinsandarteriesthoughthesubstancethatflowedthroughthemwasasmuchpsychicasphysical.Theheartofthegroupmind.Thechamberwas large, asbig asmosthallson Iyanden, its cavernous spacedominatedbyhumidairandaruddyaura.Immensespine-likeprotrusionshelduptheceiling,columnsoffusedbonelinkedbyquiveringligamentstothreadsofcrystalandiron.Inthecentreofthehallwasafarsmallerchamber,ringedwithfrondsofdarkredfleshlinedwithconsecutiverowsofbarbs,remindingherofashark’smouth.Tendonsextendedfromthismass,connectedtoabronzeandironframewroughtaboutacylindricalskeletonofwraithbone.ThethroneroomofKhaine’sAvatar.She felt asmuch as she saw, the buzz of the groupmind converging into thechamber’soccupant,thethrumofpoweremanatinginreturn.Shapesmovedintheshadowsoffleshyfoldsandcartilaginousbuttresses.NowthatshehadseeninsidethegroupmindshedetectedthethoughtsoftheZaisuthrans,though.ClearestwasSydari just a couple of paces to her left, regardingherwith thesamepaternalpatienceshehadseenontheirfirstmeeting.Shefeltherownheartlift at the sight, sharing inhismomentofpride.His smile,hisgaze,made thebizarrenessofthesituationacceptable.Normal.Other aeldari emerged from behind the vertebrae-like columns. They were

dressed much like Sydari, in long coats and tight undersuits, bedecked withZaisuthrantalismansandfetishes.She knew even before she saw the runes upon their brows,wrought in theirbraceletsandtattooedonflesh,thattheseweretheothermembersoftheHouseof Arienal. She could not remember if they had accompanied her fromSundervaleorhadbeenwaitingforhertojointhem.Theyadvanced,handsoutstretchedingreeting.Intheirfacesshesawauntsanduncles,grandparentsandsiblings.Andchildren.Theyoungestweretotteringinfants,andallthroughtheagesuptoadolescentsastallastheirparents.Theyworehoodedcowlsandlonggloves,andhungbackinthegloom,perhapsshyofthenewcomer.Afuturegeneration…ThethoughtwasgranderthananythingelsethatIyannahadcontemplatedsincethedisasterduringtheBattleoftheRedMoon,arisingsuninaworldthathadbeenruledbymidnightforsolong.TheHouseofArienalcouldliveagain.Itwas not alliancewithZaisuthra thatwas on offer, but the re-population ofIyanden!‘Iseethatthelightofwisdomhasfallenuponyou,’saidSydari.Hereachedoutandsqueezedhershoulderinreassurance,fingersfirmbutnotoppressive.‘Itistimetomeettheonethatshallheraldthisnewdawnforbothofourpeoples.’The wall of metal, skin and wraithbone shivered as psychic power andcraftworldbloodpulsed.Theflesh-frillboundaryoftheinnersanctumquiveredandthenflattened.Flexingcartilagecontractedtothefloor.Areturn throbofanticipationandadorationflowedbackfromtheconvergingcircleofIyanna’sdistantrelations.They held hands, forming a circle around the inner chamber, Sydari and thespiritseer. The collective sense of belonging was overpowering, revisitingsensationsIyannahadthoughtlostforever.Herewasjoyandcontentment.Notintheembraceofthedead,norinthemythsoftheirWhisperingGod.Thiswaslife,thiswasthefuture.Herewashopegivenlife,atrueRebirth.A fleeting thought of entrapment skittered through her mind but all otherconsideration disappeared when the flesh-gate of the avatar’s throne chamberpeeledback,interlockingteeth-likebarbsseparatingtorevealtheinterior.Abreezebillowedfromtheopeningmaw,passingoverthemashotbreath.An

ecstaticsighwentup,fromIyanna’slungsalso,caughtintheupliftingdraughtofthegroupmind’spleasure.A nudge from Sydari and a slight inflection of psychic intent propelled hertowardstheopenchamber,eagertoseewhatlaywithin.

Thecyclewasalmostspent,theumbraoffalsedusklongacrossthemoorlandsof the Highlands of Distant Repose. Around the manse voices quietly raisedprayerstoLileath,themoongoddess,singingpraisestotheheavenlymaidenforprotection during the coming darkness. Meliniel watched with interest, andAzkahr with some callous amusement, when Atalesasa knelt down upon thestonesof thebroadbalconywhere the conclavehadbeengathered.His handsmovedinprecise,complexgyrations,asdidthoseofmanyothers.‘Thephasesofthemoon,’saidMelinieltohissecond-in-command.‘Hisfingersand hands described the changing faces and phases of thewhitemoon aboveFirstworld.’‘Conjecture,’sneered theformerdracon. ‘Notoneof theseZaisuthranswouldknow how the daughter-moon looked to our ancestors. I find it all ratherembarrassing.SaywhatyouwillabouttheWhisperingGod,hehasneveraskedustowaveourhandsaboutandshoutlikehowl-apesinheat.’Despite his mockery, there was no shouting, only a chorus of voices liftedtogether,aharmonyrisingfromthethroatsoftheZaisuthransstationedaboutthemansion buildings. Meliniel listened, taken by words that spoke of eternalbeautyandpeace.‘I think they would welcome Ynnead into their pantheon,’ said the autarch.‘Their groupmind does not seem such a great distance from theWhisper thatjoinsthesoulsoftheYnnarito–’Three things occurred to interrupt him, seemingly at the same time, thoughwhen Meliniel thought back to that instant there was a tiny but perceptiblesequencetowhathappened.Firstly, looking atAtalesasa and the twootherHouseConversers knelt eithersideofhim,theautarchsawtheirbrowsfurrowinginconsternation.Secondly, the hymn toLileath faltered.A shared intake of breath among theZaisuthransstoppedtheflowofharmony.Thirdly,Azkahrdrawinghissplinterpistol to fireastormofpoisonedcrystalshardsintoAtalesasa’sfaceastheconverseroftheHouseofArienalturnedhisgaze towards Meliniel, a betraying corona of golden psychic energy playingabouthispupils.

Atalesasa fell sidewayswith a piercing shriek, his hands only halfway to hisruined face before the toxins flooded his brain and sent him spasming like abeachedfishacrossthestones.Lisatjareachedintohercoatforaheavylaserpistolassherosetoherfeet,butwascutdownbyasecondburstoffirefromtheformerdracon.Thethirdconverseroptedforescaperatherthancounter-attack,hurlinghimselfwith startling agility towards the rail of the balcony. Remarkably, a third armshotoutfromunderthefoldofhiscloak,grabbingtherailinaclawtoguidehimover and into the air beyond. Slashing shards of crystal followed a momentbehind fromAzkahr’s pistol,wide of theirmark as Shasiayu of theHouse ofGathealdroppedoutofsight.‘What are you doing?’ bellowed Meliniel, sprinting after the departedconverser.Theflareoflaserlightlitthesurroundingroofsandwallsandinaheartbeatthemessenger-frequencieswerealivewithalarmandshoutsofanger.Thebuzzofshurikenweapons and thrum of powerblades echoed from floors and galleriesbelow.‘Theviperneversleeps,’Azkahrreplied,joininghimattherail.‘Youcommandarmies as easily as youmove your fingers. I spent a life inCommorragh andsmelltreacheryontheslightestwind.’Theylookeddowntothestoneflagsfarbelow,butastonishinglytherewasnosignofShasiayu.Inthegardensbeyond,acorpsofZaisuthranshadcorneredadozenofMeliniel’swarriors–guardiansanddireavengers–andcutthemdownwith ruthless volleys of laser fire that sparked red through the immaculatelytrimmed topiaries and hedges. From elsewhere the cries of waylaid andambushedYnnaritoldoffurthertreacherybythepurple-garbedaeldari.

Eventually they cameupon the first of the portals, in a broad chamberwith afloorofblacktilesinsetwithredgemstones,theroofadomeofwhiteandgoldabove them.Aglimmerof runeworkbetrayed thegate’s presence in awall ofgrey and red marble. Two pillars delineated its extent, the space withinindistinguishablefromtherestbutforthefinetraceryofwardingsigils.Monsattralookedsurprisedandheldoutahand,thegleamoftheactiverunescatchingonhisjewellery,bathinghispalmwithitslight.HeturnedaroundandYvraine followed his gaze, seeing other telltale sparks of psychic power. Shecounted fourteenmore gates in this chamber alone, and from the backgroundaurathatlitthreearchesleadingoutfromthehall,thereweremanymoreinthe

adjoiningspaces.‘Theyseemeagertoopen,’hemurmured.‘In returning to the lens of the galaxy, you have brought them closer to thewebway that once powered them,’ said Yvraine. She smiled. ‘They stillremember.’‘Which is theGate ofMalice?’ asked theVisarch.The lens-eyed stare of hishelmmovedfromonegatetothenextandthenbacktoMonsattra.Heseemedagitated.‘Icannotsay,notyet,’saidtheZaisuthran.Hetappedthesideofhishead.‘Butweareattemptingtofindout.Isuggestwecontinuetothelevelbelow,wheretheoldestgatesarefound.’YvraineagreedandtheyaccompaniedMonsattratoatransitrampbetweenthedomedhalls.Itdidnottakelongtofindthemselvesinatwilithallfourorfivetimes the size of the one above, a single vast chamber where they found theoutlines of six immense archways. Eachwas rendered differently, so that oneappeared to be the boughs of two trees intertwined, another paired pillars ofruneslinkedbyanarchofgoldenchain.Theystoodawayfromthecircularwall,equidistantfromthecentreandeachother.‘Thehunt isover,’ said theVisarchashepointedup.Aboveeachgatewasasilverrunesetintotheceiling,instantlyrecognisabletoallpresent.TheVisarchnamedthemashisfingertracedthecircle.‘Asuryan,Isha,Kurnus,Morai-Heg,Vauland…Khaine.’Their eyes were drawn to the gate of the Bloody-Handed and there was nomistaking what they had discovered. Like two swords crossed, curved metalthrust fromtheground,serratedandglintingwith itsownruddy light.Thoughnot active, the gate delineated by the two blades seemed to ripple, the airbetweenseethingasthoughinaforgeheat.‘Itknowswearehere,’saidtheVisarch,takingastepforward.‘Wait!’Monsattra’s rebukewas sharp, theonly timehehad raisedhisvoicedsincehehadarrivedatWithershieldfortheconclave.‘Itisnotyettimetoopenit.Wehavemuchtostudyfirst,andpactstoagree.’Yvraine could feel her former exarch’s impatience, and it was infectious,feeding her own desire to know what lay beyond the portal. She fought hercuriosity,theburningneedtoactimmediately.‘Poorguestswewouldbe,toleavesosoon,’shesaidwithaforcedsmile.She turnedback to theGateofMaliceandfeltashudderpass throughher. Itwasnotofthegate,butsomethingelsefarmorefamiliar.Onlyafewheartbeats

lateralowlaughcausedalltoturnsharply,tofindinthedoorwaybehindthemafigurecladinthemotleyofaHarlequin:IdraesciDreamspear.Inhisarmshecradledafurrybluemass,mattedinplaceswithdriedblood.Alorynis leapt freeandboundedacross thehall, swerving through the legsoftheYnnari andZaisuthrans.Clawsskitteringon the tiles,hecame toa stopatYvraine’sside,facemarkedbyfreshcutsacrosscheekandnose.He paused a moment to hiss violently at Monsattra and then bounded uptowardsYvraine,forcinghertocatchhim.Atthemomentofcontact,thegyrinx’sthoughtsflashedintohermind.

CHAPTER24

TREACHERYREVEALED

Thememorywasincoherentatfirst,apanickedmelangeofsmell–thesweatystench of the quilling smothering all else – and the dance of colours andmeaninglessvoices.ButYvraine’searrecognisedthelanguage,heardtherhythminthewordsthatAloryniscouldnot.

Hey!Listenup,listenwell,harktomywhisper,Lightcomestheshatter-windandherbladedsister.Downourdarkenedtunnelway,shininginthedomelight,Waitingatthewebwaygateforthecoldstarlight,Thereahandsomefellowis,LaughingGod’strueheir,Sharpasthecuttingwit,lighterthantheair.OldIdraesciDreamspeartalesanddeatha-bringingAlwaysinthedarkesttime.Canyouhearhimsinging?Hey!Listenup,listenwell,‘tilyourheartisheaving!Alorynis,Alorynis,yourmistressisa-grieving!Runlittlecruel-thing,dousnomoreharm!Dreamspear’sinahurrynow.Battlewillfollowcalm.Dreamspear’sgoinghomeagain,hisfriends’soulsa-bringing.Alwaysatthelastcry!Canyouhearmesinging?

Boundingandskippingalongthetunnelcameafigurecladinbrightcolours,aflashingsword inonehand,crystallinepistol in theother.Witheach twistandleap, theblade slashedout to severaquesting frondor thrustingbarb, leavingdropletsofgorespatteredinhiswake.Heduckedbeneathflailingtendrilsgrown

from the fabric of the tunnel itself, not missing a step as he twirled betweensharp-thornedappendages.ThecreaturestranglingAlorynislookedup,eyessaucer-wideatthestranger’sapproach.Shebaredherteethinanger,fingerstighteningthroughtheruffoffuraboutthegyrinx’sthroat.In alcoves hidden in the shadow of thick bone-limbs holding up the roof,strangeshapesmoved.Many-limbed,chitin-cladcreatures flexedandstretchedaslayersofveined,semi-transparenttissuepartedattheopenings,slitbyclawsthatcouldcutpreytothebonewithouteffort.Bulbousheadsturned,darkeyesglitteredinthescantlight,watchingtheoncomingfigurewithalienmalignancy.With a screech and a twist,Alorynis draggedon the last reserves of strengthandsankhisteethintothearmofhisassailant.Clawsscrabblingbloodyribbonsfrom her gut, the gyrinx thrust free, bounding up the tunnel, yowling madly.Waves of warning thoughts flooded from the panicked empath, preceding italongthepassageinaflickeringwaveofenergy.Likerunnerssetfreebythestarter’scommand,thecrouchingaliensburstfromtheir hiding places as Alorynis sprinted up the tunnel towards the advancingaeldari.Hismistress’companionpulledfreeacrystallineweaponandthegyrinxfeltthebackwashofpsychicdischargeasabeamofscintillatingpowerflashedpast, targeting the creatures just a step behind.Agonised, highpitched shrieksand theclatterofchitinagainst chitin followed thegyrinx,but spurredby rawterrorhespedstraighton,notlookingback.

Meliniel took stock of the situation in a few heartbeats. Remonstrating withAzkahrwouldbothbeawasteoftimeand,mostlikely,incorrect.Hisinstinctswerenottobesecond-guessed.Thepastcouldnotbechanged,onlythefuture.Theautarchaccessedthemessenger-waves,calmlydistributinghiscommandsashepacedalongthebalcony,tryingtoseeasmuchoftheunfoldingviolenceaspossible.Hecalledforreportsashedidso,filteringoutthepertinentinformationfromananarchiccacophonyofresponses.Inhismind’seyethemansehadgonefroma secure,peaceful stronghold toa roilingbattleground.Hecould feel thesudden flash of spirits on theWhisper, the soulstuff from the slain tremblingthroughhisbody,coursingacrosshisskinlikestatic.ThegiftofYnnead.‘The skies,’warnedAzkahr, drawinghis attention to three shapes lifting intoviewinthedistance.‘Moreornithopters.’Theywerenot theonlycauseforconcern.On theheathlandsacross fromthe

manse, fourmore of the segmented transports hovered over a ridge.Weaponsblistersspatredboltsofenergy,searingintotheupperstoreysabovetheautarch.‘Securetheinnerwalls,’hetoldhiswarriors.‘Feelthesoulburstandturnittoour cause. Purge your vicinity of the foe and then secure your ground andprepareforfreshassault.’Theupdraughtof spirit energy swirledand swayedas theYnnarigathered intheescapingenergyoftheirdepartingcompanions.TheWhisperwasmorethanjust a bonding empathy, it was a shared experience, a conjoined source ofvitality.This was the greatest gift of Ynnead, to tap into the long-forgotten aeldaripower to absorb each other’s spirits – and to a lesser extent those of othercreatures. This was the power of shared-thought unrestrained by the psychicteachings and circuitry of theAsuryani, notweakened by the soulthirst of thedrukhari.TheWhisperwasthevoiceofthedead,andtheYnnarihadlearnedtolisten.Thoughascorehadfallenandmore,theirdeathswerenotinvain.Invigoratedandempoweredbytheinfluxof thedead’sdissipatingforce,Meliniel’ssquadsstruckbackwithaspeedandferocitytheZaisuthranscouldnothaveexpected.Every death made them stronger, faster and more accurate as they dared thefusillades of their treacherous hosts and spat their vengeance with splinter,shurikenandlaser.‘We need to contactYvraine,’ saidMeliniel. ‘TheZaisuthran groupmindwillcarrytheseeventsacrossthecraftworldatthespeedofthought.’‘Itwas thegroupmind that spurredour foes to act,’ saidAzkahr,drawinghisblade.Hiskabaliteswereatoneof thestairs, firingdowninto the levelbelow.‘Yvraineismostlikelyalreadydead.Iyannaalso.Ifyoudesiresalvation,looktoourships.’‘No, thesisters-in-deathstill live,doubtingone,’saidMeliniel.‘TheirpassingwouldbeafireacrosstheWhisper,andyouknowit.Asforourships,unlessyouknowofsomewayofbroadcastingintothevoidwithoutaninfinitycircuit,itisbeyondus.’‘I am sure that if enough of us die, our passing would be felt by ourcompanionsaboardthestarships,’theformerdraconrepliedwithaviciousgrin.‘Littlecomfort,’saidMeliniel.Heturnedhisgazetotheenemyforcesgatheringaroundthemanseanditsoutbuildings.‘Butperhapswecouldsendasignalwiththesoulsofourenemiesinstead?’

Yvraine shruggedAlorynis to the floor, where the gyrinx pushed close to herlegs,seekingsanctuaryinthefoldsofhergown.Coldfuryroselikeatide,butbeforeittookcompleteholdofher,shedartedalooktowardsDreamspear,whowas standing at the threshold, dividing his attention between the occupants ofthegatechamberandthetunnelbywhichhehadentered–notthesamepassagethathadbroughttheZaisuthransandtheirguests.‘Iknownothowyoucometobehere,northere,butmyprofoundthanks,’saidYvraine.‘AlasthatIdeservedsuchgratitude.’Twascuriosity,yousee,thattookmeafteryourfurryfriend,nothingmorewise.’Hemotioneddownthecorridorwithhissword.Inthedimlight,longshadowsstutteredalongthewalls,ofthecreaturesYvrainehadseeninthevisions.‘AndIdidnotreallyrescuepoorAlorynis,morethatweeludedtheinevitableforashortwhile…’MonsattraretreatedseveralstepswhenYvraine’sgazefelluponhim,hereyeslitwithachillbluefire.‘Whathaveyoudone?’hesnapped,allpretenceofdiplomacyabandoned.Heflinchedasthoughinpain,eyesglazingforamomentbeforehisfocusreturned,fixed upon theOpener of the SeventhWay.His companions drew about him,pulling free laspistols and sonic knives. ‘I advise that you do nothing rash,Yvraine.Iamsurethisisamisunderstanding.’‘There is no mistake,’ Yvraine declared. She slid Kha-vir rasping from itssheath.Thesoul-hungeringbladebathedthegatehallinawaxingillumination.Yvraine felt thedistantpullof souls released from theirmortal frames, thoughmuchobscuredbythefogofthegroupmind.Sherealiseditwasthis,thegestaltpsychic power of the Zaisuthrans, that had cloaked the energy of the gates,perhapsdeliberatelytryingtohidethem.‘Iknowthemannerofcreaturethathasinvadedyourhome.Theyarenodaemons,theyarealiensoffleshandblood.’Inthisshewasonlypartlycorrect,forZaisuthrahadsufferedpreviouslyfromthedaemonic,theaftermathoftheincursionwitnessedbyIyanna.Shewasright,however,thatZaisuthrahadbeenvictimofaterribleincursionfar,farearlier.Dreamspearretreatedintothehall,steppingpastthegatemarkedforAsuryan.Hisvoicerangbackfromtheportalsthatringedthechamber.‘Isawhundredsofthem,manydormantbutwaking…’The first of the interlopers appeared at the arched mouth of the tunnel.Straightened, itwouldhavestoodhalfas tallagainasYvraine,but itshunchedbody made it look shorter. Four arms, two double-jointed legs, and a thick,ribbedtail.Itspalefleshbodywassheathedinoverlappingplatesofdarkchitin

that gleamedwith expressedoils.The smellwaspungent, almost intoxicating.Theslightlyflat,bulbousheadthatheldamawofrazorfangswasunmistakable,butitwastheeyeslikepolishedorbsofcoalthatcaughther.She had shared memories with Iyanna and had recognised in an instant thecreatures that had infiltrated Zaisuthra. Itwas impossible to know how it hadhappened, but given their dependence upon the natural life cycle of their hostculture,andtheslowreproductiverateoftheaeldari,ithadtohavebeenseveralgenerationssincetheirfirstarrival.Theseinterlopershadmanynames,inmanyplaces,foraslongastheyhadbeenknowntotheaeldari.TheHiderinPlainSight.Hearth-lurkers.Blood-shadows.Kin-thieves.Butitwasthehumanappelationthatcametoherinthatmoment.Yvraineknewbetter than toallowherself tobebewitchedby thataliengaze,andbroughtuptheSwordofSorrows,itspalegleambreakingthemesmericeffect.‘Genestealer,’shehissed.

ManyarethetalesoftheBloody-HandedGod.Hismurderousrageandjealouslustcausedmuchstrifeamongst thepantheonoftheaeldari,andhisslayingofEldaneshprecipitatedthedisastrousWarinHeaven.Solegendsclaim.Perhapsthetruth issomethingelse,butantiquity isafognoteasilypenetrated.Legendalso claims that when the Great Enemy arose, born of the nightmarishperversions,desiresandtwistedambitionsoftheaeldariFall,Khainewastheretofight,thewarrior-godofhispeople.Heremythisconflicted,andthesagasofonecraftworlddifferfromtheepicsofanother,asmuchastheydifferagainfromthefolktalesofCommorraghandthedancesofthedisparateHarlequinmasques.SomesaythatSheWhoThirststriedtoconsumeKaelaMenshaKhaine,but instrugglingfromhergrip theBloody-HandedOneshreddedintomanypartsandthetattersofHisexistencefluttereddownintotheuniverseofmortals.SomesaythatKhainewasalwaysthesonofthe Great Enemy and the Lord of Skulls, their twain desires of glory andbloodshedmatchedwithinHisbreast.TheelevationoftheDoomoftheAeldariwas toomuchandbrokeaparthis immortal frame,scatteringbloodyparts intothecosmos.AndtherearethosethatclaimtheBrassKingandSheWhoThirstsfoughtopenlyforpossessionoftheBloody-Handed,andinthestruggleKhainewassplitasunderandflamingfragmentsofhisbeingwerereleasedintoreality.Stories, but with a kernel of truth in each. And that truth is that within thepsychicheartofeverycraftworldthathadfledthedominions,nestledinsidethe

raw infinity circuit, a piece of the war god settled and grew. The Avatars ofKhainetheyarecalled,eachaterrifyingincarnationofthegod-that-was,rousedonlybytheheatandbloodofcomingwar.Zaisuthrawasnodifferentinthatrespect,forinthecoreofthecraftworldsatacreationnotofmortalorigins.ThecreatureinsidetheinnersanctumsatuponthebronzethroneofKaelaMenshaKhaine,broodingandmajestic.LiketheAvatarsof Khaine across the galaxy, it was forged of immortal dark iron and brightflame,butinZaisuthraitsbodywasalsogrownfromtheunnaturalfleshofthecraftworld’sbody.Its face was elongated, steel teeth like daggers beneath a brow ridged withnodules of iron-bone. Eyes of burning embers regarded Iyanna, like perfectblack diamonds litwith a spark in their centre. Its smoke-wreathed bodywasheavilyribbed,ahardcarapaceofbronzethatshimmeredasthoughstillmolten,armouredoverfleshthatpulsedandfumedlikeboilingmagma.Two hands lay upon the black iron arms of the throne, ending in elongated,articulatedtripartiteclawsratherthantheslender digitsofanaeldari.Twomorelimbsstretchedtoeitherside;intherightalongspeartippedwithabladenearhalfitslength,itselfastallasIyanna;intheleftalargegobletofgoldstuddedwith red gems. The spiritseer remembered both well enough from her earlierPaths,whenshehadtrodaswarriorandwarlock.TheweaponwastheWailingDoom,SuinDallae, and the crucible the Cup of Criel in which the blood ofKhaine’spriestswassacrificedtotheBloody-Handed.Aboutitsshouldershungtheceremonialblood-redcloak,pinnedintoitschestby a sword of shining silver. Other amulets and sigils were inserted into itscarapace,likeofferingsonanaltarortemplewall.It seemed immobile at first, but Iyanna knew from its scrutiny across thegroupmind that the Avatar of Zaisuthra was aware of her. She could feel adelicatetouchuponthebordersofherthoughts,amassagingpulseofwelcomequiteatoddswiththeterrifyingapparitionbeforeher.Atendrilofthecreature’sthoughtsbrushedagainstSydari,whoadvancedathershoulder,hispresenceurgingherforwardswithoutforce.‘Witness the Patriarch of Khaine, our beloved protector,’ said the Lord-Guardian. He knelt and Iyanna offered no resistance to the gentle pulse ofsupplication that sent her to one knee also. Another sigh sounded about thechamberfromtheotherattendants,accompaniedbythewhisperofclothandthecreakofleatherastheytoopaidrespectstothePatriarch.‘For generations the Patriarch of Khaine has watched over the people of

Zaisuthra.When we thought the gods dead, when we had fled into the bitterdarknessbetween themostdistant stars,we thoughtwewerealone.Likeyou,andtheothermisguided,wefearedthegodshadfinallydiedorleftus.Yettherewasonethathadnot.SheWhoThirstsyouhavenamedher.Hertouchfollowedus still, her cursewas in our bones and in ourminds.Our societywas on theverge of collapse, our culture almost as depraved as the one we had fled.Assailed by our own weaknesses and assaulted by the daemons of the DarkPowers,therewasnohopeofsalvation.’Iyannacouldimagineitwell–Iyandenstooduponasimilarprecipice,despiteallthathadcomebefore.TheyhadthebenefitofthePath,offarseersandaspectwarriors,bonesingersandspiritseers.Evenso,thedeadoutnumberedthelivingandtheirsocietywasastalereplicaoftheforceithadoncebeen.Whatchancehadasmallcraftworldaloneonthetidesoffate?‘What chance indeed?’ echoed Sydari, Iyanna’s thoughts now part of thegroupmind. ‘Onechance,amiracleofheavenlyproportion.Wecameupon themessengers of Khaine, who sought us from the outer realms. We and theybecame one, and with their strength, with the power of the Patriarch and thegroupmindwestalledthedecayandfoundfreshpurpose.’

The unparalleledmajesty of the primogenitor flooded the chamber andSydaribasked in the light of his creator. His adulation fluttered back across thegroupmind.Firstoffirst,Ihavebroughtthepotential.Histhoughtswerehurried,fuelledinequal part by excitement and apprehension. He could sense across thegroupmindthat theconflictwiththeYnnariwasfarfromconclusive.Thinkingof the fighting swamped his mind with images of gunfire and vicious closequarters combat swirling through the burning manses and sullen gardens inwhich the Ynnari had been housed. He felt the pinpricks of loss as anothergroup-sonorgroup-daughterwascutdownorshot.Throughthemiasmaoftheirdying thoughts the bright flame-minds of the grouplords, the renewedincarnationsof theprimogenitor’s pureness.Theywaited still, almost ready tospringforthwhentheenemyweremostbeset.Apsychicimpulsesnatchedhisattentionbacktothecreator.Bringcloser,primeofthefirstclaspofthefourthbinding,hisgroupfatherbid,addressingtheLord-GuardianasitdidalloftheZaisuthra,notbynameorrank,butlineage.Mind-touchforharmoniouscongress.SydariedgedIyannaforwardsseveralmorefalteringsteps.Herresistancewas

instinctive, a simple reluctance to advance towards the unknown.Deep insideherthoughtsthegroupwormsofhisdelvingwerestillinplace,settledaboutherconsciousness to release their tinybutpersuasive interventions.Not enough tocontrol,not todominate, thoughthecreatorandgrouplordscoulddosoif theywished. Just enough to lowerherguard, to smoothawaysuspicion so that shewouldbemoreopentothetruth.Thefirst,insertedwhentheshockofrecognitionhadflowedfromhertohimintheshuttle,wasalmostwitheredandgone,butreinforcementsintheformofhissubsequentinsertionsweremorethanenoughtoguidehertowardsacquiescence.Bindhertome.Itwasarequestmadeoutoflove,notlust.InIyannawasalloftheirfuture.ThePatriarch’s thoughts reverberated across the groupmind, echoing the distantsighingcallthathadbeenasirensongtothemforhalfalifetime,bringingthemback from theoutervoids.The spoorof theHostofLordswasupon Iyanna’smindscape,asdistinctasascentormark.Hermemoriesbetrayedher,flashesofthebrood-creatorsfromwhichalllifewasspawned.Withherinductionintothefamilytheemptinesswouldbefilled,herpurposerestored.SydariswelledwiththethoughtthathewouldbetheonetobringZaisuthraintoa new era of growth. With Iyanna turned, the others would follow or beeliminated.Iyandenwouldcomenext.Bindher!Sydari snapped from his musings, responding to the plaintive desire of hisprimogenitor,fatherofallHouses.Allwouldproceedashehadcommanded.

TheZaisuthranspushedintotheteethoftheYnnarifirepower.Thedevoteesofthe Whispering God did not fear death, but their dedication was nothingcompared to the unthinking sacrifice demanded by the groupmind. Almostheedlessof their losses, theZaisuthransgainedground,determined tosecureafoothold in Withershield. Warriors clad in armour, some of them heavilydisfigured, hunched and facially horrific, pushed over the walls and into thelowerchambers,sometimesoverthebodiesoftheirdead.Meliniel did what he could to slow their advance but his troops wereoutmatched. Supported by heavier weaponry and scouring fire from circlinganti-grav gunships, the tainted aeldari were able to seize the outer groundsswiftlyevenwhilethelastoftheirnumberwerepurgedwithin.Thebattleenteredafreshphase,withtheYnnaritryingtostemanyincursionintothemanseanditsouterbuildings,knowingthatoncethefightingbrokeout

in the sprawling halls and corridors it was only a matter of time before theywouldbecornered.Repulseandcounter-attackworkedforatime,butMelinielwasforcedtowithdrawdeeperanddeeperintothecloistersandcourtyardswitheach new Zaisuthran offensive, his squads unable to remain long in the openbeforedrawingattentionfromtheaerialfoes–enemyhewasloathtodispatchhis own flying troops against until some solid gainmight bemade from suchcounter-attack.Theconclusionwasinevitable.Theywerestilllosinggroundand,throughthat,losingthebattle.

CHAPTER25

THEYNNARIEMBATTLED

Sydaripausedandtheassembledfamilyrose,impelledbyanunspokenwishofthePatriarch.TheothersoftheHouseofArienalcamecloser,theirfacesstilllitwith smiles, their eyes fixed upon Iyanna and the Patriarch with unabashedadoration.Iyanna saw the younger onesmore clearly, the gloomof their hoods and thevapoursofthethronechambernolongersuchanimpediment.Andthroughthegroupmindalso,sherealised,theirimmaturemindslikebubblesonthelakeintowhichalloftheirthoughtspooled.Those shehad taken tobe theyoungestwerenot so, theirheightwas simplymaskedbyhunchedposture.Theirfacesweremorelike thoseof thePatriarch,withsharpcheekbonesandbrowsandjuttingjawlines.Flecksofhardenedchitinmarkedthem,theirskincastwithareddish-purplesheen.Andshesawalsootherlimbshiddeninthefoldsofcloaksortuckedcarefullybehindbacks–thirdandevenfourtharms,endinginlongclaws.‘Yes,we are all childrenof thePatriarch, onewayor theother,’ saidSydari,smilingwarmlyattheyouths.Theygrinnedback,showingrazor-sharpteethandslender tongues. His demeanour shifted, becoming sombre. ‘Of late thepredations of theCorruptOnes have become almost overwhelming.You haveseen thedamage thathasbeendone.ThePatriarch is strong,buthe isnotall-powerful.Alonewecannotaspiretoovercomethisreneweddanger.Theattacksarefierceanddetermined,fullofguileandhateofwhatwehavebecome.’His hand was on her back, not forceful but encouraging. The two of themdrifted towards the immense creature on the throne,movingwithout effort orvolition,drawnbyitscharismaticgaze.

‘Youcanbepartofthis,Iyanna,’saidSydari.The Lord-Guardian broke away and stepped forward, taking up the Cup ofCrielasitwasprofferedbythePatriarch.HeheldittowardsIyannaandwithinshe could see blood, thick and sticking to the sides, its strange aroma likeincenseinhernostrils.‘Youareoneofus,Iyanna,’hecontinued.‘Inspirit,andinblood,theHouseofArienalcalledtoyouacrossthevoidandyouanswered.Andwehavecometoyou,perhaps,tofindthealliance,thefreshbloodweneedtosurvive.Comewithus, unite theHouse ofArienal oncemore, bring together our craftworlds.WewillsaveZaisuthra.WewillmakeIyandengreatagain.’Iyanna looked at the cup and itwas clearwhatwas intended. She need onlydrinkandshewouldbecomeonewiththegroupmind,reunitedwithherfamily.

The Hall of Gates resounded with ongoing battle. The dim runelight of theportalscaughtonhailsofpoisonedsplinters,twilightlitbydazzlingklaive-arcsand the luminescence of Idraesci Dreamspear’s holosuit. Flares of white-icepowerscouredfromYvraine’seyes,becomingfreezingflamethatengulfedthetumultofalienandhybridthatspreadintothechamber.The Iyandeni contingent fought together, a tight group of yellow-armouredwarriors close to theGate ofMalice. The guardians formed a firing linewiththeir shuriken catapults, cutting down anything that followed from thepassagewaybywhichDreamspearhadarrived.Their backs were protected by the twin warlocks. Side by side, Iyasta andTelathaus left a tide of broken genestealer bodies heaped about them. Theyfoughtseamlesslytogether,theoneprojectinglightningandfirewhiletheotherslashed and thrust with witchblade, alternating and interweaving between therolesastheebbandflowofbattledictated.Theyspunabouteachother,directingtheirirefirstonewayandthenanother,stepping in time with twinchronicity so that as one ducked, the other’s bladepassedtocutdownafoe,asthefirstdodged,thesecondunleashedatorrentofpsychicwrath.Rune armour gleamedwith psychic power,warding away errant lasbolts andthe clawscrapesof thepurestrain aliens, sleeve andhemof robe scorched andtatteredbutnogranderwoundinflicteduponthem.

Iyanna’sfingerscurledaroundthestemofthecup,herfingerstouchingSydari’s.Theshockofcontactremindedherthatshestillworenoglove,herskinagainsthisskin,thewarmthofhimnexttothecoldnessinherflesh.

‘Howlonghaveyouwelcomedthepresenceofthedeadmorethantheliving?’theLord-Guardianasked.Shedidnotanswer.Couldnotanswer.EvenbeforeYnnead,beforeYvraineandtheYnnari,shehadbeenatombkeeper,asoullostbetweentheworldsofmortaland immortal, living and deceased. There was a place here where she wouldbelong,notsimplybeacceptedortolerated,orused.Thislastthoughtkindledbright,ignitingapassionshehadnotexperiencedforthe longest of times. Yvraine called her sister, but what really did she offer?Servitude andoblivion.There had to bemore to Iyanna’s remaining existencethansimplyasheraldtoanuncaringgod.ThoughtsofYvrainerippledthroughthegroupmind.NowthatIyannawaspartof it,on theperipheryat least, shegainedsomeof its functionandawareness.ShecouldfeelthetendrilsofitspowerthroughoutZaisuthra,justlikethenodesandcapillariesofaninfinitycircuit,butfarcloserandhotter.ThePatriarch’spresencewasasunat thecentre, theothersallplanetscaughtwithintheirorbits.Thecraftworldwasmorethananamplifier,morethanatool,itwasanextensionof thePatriarch, and in return itwasmore than simplyanunyieldingavatarofawargod,itwasthefatherandpreserver,thefontoflife.SheknewwhySydariandhiscompanionswerecalledLords-Guardian,forallwasbenttowardsthesalvationandprotectionoftheZaisuthrans,fromtheHouseofArienaltoallothers.Therewasnoconcerngreaterinthemindsaroundher,and in thegroupmind thatbound them, than thepreservationof theirextendedfamily. Zaisuthra was one and whole, a stark contrast to the divisions thatwrackedIyanden.Something threatened that harmony. Iyanna sensed it as a bruise of thegroupmind,acreepinglacerationthatworkeditswayfromtheouteredges.Iyannaflinched,feelingthelossofamind.She reeled back; a tiny part of the groupmind diminished, the particle goneforever.Loss.Shewassoinuredtoitnow,yetthesenseofitwaslikethedeepestgrief,sendingwavesofdismaythroughthegroupmind.SydarihissedinphysicalpainandabriefmoanoflamentrosefromthefolkoftheHouseofArienalaboutthem.‘Yvraine…’Shewhisperedthename.‘Thereisfighting!’‘Sheiskillingyourbrothersandsisters,Iyanna.’Wherebeforehehadbeengentle,nowSydariwashardand forceful.Hemether gazewith an insistent glare and pushed the cup forwards. ‘We need you.Withyourthoughtsthegroupmindwillknowallthatyouknow.Weshallseeall

thatyouhaveseen,feelallthatyouhavefelt,shareallthatyouhavelost.Andyouneednotbealoneanymore.’Iyannaletthecuptouchherlip,therimhardagainstthesoftskin.Shecouldnotrememberwhenshehadtakenoffherhelm.Thisthoughtcausedhertopause.Therewastoomuchshecouldnotremember,toomuchlostinthehazethathadbesetherthoughtssinceSydarihadfirstmetherintheshuttle.Evennowitwasalmost impossible to think of anything from before they had met, past thatinstantofconnectionwhenshehadlookedintohiseyes;theeyesofherfather.ThePatriarchshifted,raisingaclawfromthethrone.Nothingwassaid,butitsimpatiencewasfeltthroughthegroupmind.Beyond,IyannawasawareofmorelightsfallingdiminthefirmamentofstarsthatwasZaisuthra,morefamilyslainbyherformercompanions.Whyhadshetakenoffherhelm?‘Drinkandyoushallbelovedforever,’saidSydari.‘Yourfamilyiswaiting.’‘Myfamilyiswaiting.’Thewarmthofthebloodwithinthecupwasonherbreath,itsscentinhernose.Itwashersister’sembraceandhermother’skissand…

Meliniel bounded up the shallowwinding stairway, taking the steps three at atime. The thud of armoured boots on bare stone echoed from wood-panelledwalls, his guard of StrikingScorpions and former guardians just a few stridesbehind.Hereachedthenext landingjustasagroupofZaisuthransreachedthe topofthe stair, asMeliniel hadpredictedhewould, having seen them fromacross acourtyardheadinginthisdirection.Hisspearfoundthethroatofthefirstwithouthesitation, the pistol in his other hand shredding coat and padded jerkin of asecond. Shouldering aside their falling corpses he ducked beneath a cracklingmaultomakeroomforhiswarriors,whometthehalfdozenfoeswithsnarlingchainbladesandmonomolecular-edgedswords.The haft of Ahz-ashir wasmore useful in the close confines of the landing;tripping, stunning, breaking bones. He felt the wisps of the Zaisuthrans’departingsoulsandreachedoutwithhisthoughtstodragthemintothespringofhis own psychic power. Itwas hard, the groupmind of the craftworld grippedfiercelyattheenergyofitsdepartedminions,leavingonlydriftingtattersfortheYnnaritoabsorb.Acryofpainandthesuddenburstofsoulstuffbehindhimwarnedofafellow

Ynnarifallingprey.Hefeltthewraithpowerpassthroughhimandfromitstouchrecognised Thasasa, who had once been a Black Guardian of Ulthwé. In afleetingmoment he shared all that she had been, witnessed her triumphs andlosses,frominfancytothedaggerburiedinherback.Andthenshewasgone,onlytoliveonintheembraceoftheWhisperingGod,herenergymoremotesofglitteringpowerintheveinsoftheautarch.TheremainingwarriorsfelluponThasasa’skiller,whohadbeenkickeddownbutnotslain.OneoftheStrikingScorpionstookofftheZaisuthran’sheadwithasweepofhischainsword,sendingtheskullbouncingdownthestairs.‘We have lost the secondwing,’Azkahr reported over themessenger-waves.‘Wehavethethirdtowerandthemainbuildingleft.Ithinkweneedtobreakforthetransportsandgetoutofhere.’‘Awaitmy instruction,’Meliniel signalled back, though he did not doubt hissecond-in-command’sassessment.Leavingtheguardianstoholdthestair,heledtheStrikingScorpionsalongtheheavilycarpetedlandingandintooneof thevastbedchambers thatflankedit.From there they broke out onto a veranda, coming to a place above whereseveralZaisuthranswereattemptingtobreachoneoftheupperstoreysacrossaskybridge.Heneededtogivenocommand,hisintentclear.Weapons readied,theStrikingScorpionsvaultedoverthewalloftheverandaontothebridgebeneath,thebuzzofchainswordsspringingintolifeswiftlyfollowedbythecriesofthedeadanddying.

Iyannawalkedamongthedead.Theywereallthere,liningtheavenue,standingbeforetheirmausoleumswherebeforethestatueshadbeen.Hariya, her mother. Her father, Arctai. Grandfather Naisayras. GrandmotherSasiahka. Illiyan, her paternal grandfather, and her aunt, his eldest daughter,Lotasitha. On and on, down the avenue the two lines stretched, pale figures,insubstantial,dissipatingliketattersoffogcaughtinastrongbreeze.Shewouldbefreeofthem,freeoftheirhaunting,freeoftheirweightuponhershoulders.AcoldhandslippedintoIyanna’s,itsgripsmallbutfierce.Shelookeddown.‘Hello, Little Me,’ she said to Saisath. Her younger sister smiled. ‘Alwayssmiling.’

Saisath’sfeaturesdistorted,becamehazyas thoughseenthroughtears,andintheirshiftIyannaglimpsedforamomentanotherface.Yvraine.‘Don’tleaveme,’saidYvraine.‘Ineedyou,sister.’‘Whydoyouwanttoforgetme,Iyanna?’Saisathasked,nolongersmiling.

CHAPTER26

AFAMILYLOST

ItistruetosaythatthesituationwasdirefortheYnnari.Assailedfromwithoutandwithin, body and soul put to the test by the ambushes of the genestealer-tainted Zaisuthrans. But the Ynnari were no strangers to hardship, norbloodshed.Inbattleanddeaththeyhadbeenforgedandinbattleanddeaththeyweredestinedtoend.Therewasnothoughtofsurrender,nodoubtthattheywouldfighttothedeath,for they knew the embrace of Ynnead awaited them. Though the gestalt ofZaisuthra smotheredalldistant thoughtandshecouldnot feel Iyanna,Yvraineknew thatmanyof her followers fought on across the craftworld – shewouldhave sensed any great release of death even through the concealing psychicumbra.Yetshecouldnotdrawonit,andwasleftwiththescatteredsoul-ashesofthosecloseathand,afuelstrongbutinshortsupply.Certainly not enough to conjure the Yncarne, which would have made avaluablereinforcement.Ynnead,likeallgods,requiredsacrificeofsorts,andtheWhispering God’s avatar remained, for the time being, out of reach untilsufficientlynumerousdepartedspiritscouldbegatheredtoraisetheincorporealmanifestation.Dispatching another genestealer with a caress from the Sword of Sorrows,Yvraine gathered the escaping lifeforce of her Ynnari, a swirl of diaphanousspiritsthatwreathedaboutheroutstretchedarmandfan.Withaflickofherwristshe sent the psychicmiasma flaring into the enemy, the curtain of descendingsoulstuffbecomingacleansingwhitefirethatranacrossthealiens’chitinplatesandburnedthroughfleshlikefireconsumingpaper.TheWhisperchurnedthroughtheair,almosttangible,whippedintoastormby

the presence ofYvraine and the smothering cloud of the groupmind.Howlingand crying, the spirits of departing aeldari – Zaisuthran and Ynnari alike –seethedaroundthegates.Thesoulboundfoughtbravely,thetauntsofthewychesacontrasttothesilentdeterminationoftheSilveredBladeDireAvengers,inturnsodifferentfromtheexpressive but wordless war-calls from former incubi. Feeding upon theescaping soulstuff of their falling companions they drove forward, taking thefight to the Zaisuthrans, cutting them downwith shuriken and klaive,wychesleaping over a mound of the dead to despatch others with hydraknives andrazorsnares.Itwasnotenough,andevenasthelastofthegenestealerswithinthehallgaveitsdeathrattle,thecorridorsaroundthehalldarkenedwiththeapproachofmanymore.TheYnnaricoalesced likeacloudabout theVisarchandYvraine,grim-faced,determinedtoselltheirlivesatthegreatestcosttotheenemy.‘Death is not the end,’ theVisarch told them. ‘ThroughYnnead,we shall beReborn.’

Iyannaopenedhereyesand let thecup fall fromherhands.Thickalienbloodsplashed the yellow of her robe and spattered across the crystal tendrils thatspreadlikerootsfromthePatriarch’sthrone.Shemet the eyes of Sydari, and saw clear thewhorls of psychic power thatpoured from them, powered by the groupmind, inveigling their way into herthoughts,twistingperceptionandagency,turningherintoapuppet.Bileroseinher throat, a wave of disgust and hatred. Her cold stare caused the Lord-Guardian to straighten in shock.He reeled back as the spiritseer extended herthoughts,snatchingupthetendrilsthatlinkedhimtoher,rippingthemfromhismindwithclawsofice.Throughgrittedteeth,sheannouncedherdecision.‘Myfamilyaredead.’

Unabletomatchthepurespeedandferocityofthegenestealers,theVisarchmetthemwithguileandfinesse.Alwaysinmotion,temptingthroat-laceratingstrikesandheart-shreddinglunges,heusedhisownbodyasalure,triggeringthealiensto attack,meeting themwith the edgeor tipofAsu-var.He stepped into theirattacks,aflourishofcloaktodistract,asidestepandthrusttopartfleshwiththeleast effort. Lethal claws slashed the humid air just a hair’s breadth from hisarmour.Foetidbreathfromlethaljawsflowedhotintheventilatorofhishelm.Throughitasinglethoughtburnedinhismind:protectYvraine.The Opener of the Seventh Way stood her ground, whipping the Sword of

Sorrowsleftand thenright,catching limbandtorsowith theslightest touch towrench forth such soulstuff as existed in the bio-engineered beasts thatsurrounded them. The Visarch could feel the slithering presence of thegroupmind,aseethingentitythat triedtochokeoutallotherthought, jealouslyholdingontotheescapingpsychicmatterofitscreatures.Monsattra and the other emissaries had tried to flee when the purestraingenestealers had launched their attack, but Dreamspear intercepted them,somersaultingovertheirheadstocutofftheirescape.Turnedtoadazzlingblurby his dathedi suit, the Great Harlequin moved among them, a rainbow ofviolencethatleftslashedthroatsandpiercedorgansinitswake.The soulbound formed up around theirmistress. The incubi of theVisarch’sCoiled Blade cleaved as a single entity through the first wave of purebredgenestealers,matching shriekingklaives againstdeadly speed.HergladiatricesintheBloodbridesboundedpast, intentuponafreshsurgeofattackerscomingnowfromtwooftheotherarchways–part-aeldarihybridswithpallidskinandextralimbs,theirZaisuthranheritagepervertedbythealiengeneswithin.Neitherasgracefulastheiraeldariparents,norasnaturallyswiftastheiraliensires, thesehalf-born felleasily to thearenaweaponsof theBloodbrides, theircorruptedfleshleftscatteredacrossthetilesofthehall.ButtheZaisuthranswereresilientinmindandnumber,thrownforwardbytheunthinking desire of the groupmind, whose baleful energy fluxed and waxedstrong through the arteries surrounding the Hall of Gates. Volleys of lasfiresprang from the archways, and the rasp of semi-organic blades onCommorraghanarmoursoundedloudamongthefighting.‘Wemustsetfreethepassedonesfromthestarships,’theVisarchcalledout,inthebrief lullbetweenparting thebodyofonefoeandparrying thedescendingclawsofthenext.‘Thegroupmindstillsallthought,’answeredYvraine.Hefelthismistressprobetheamorphousdarknessat thebackof theirminds,but itmergedand flexedwithher, formedofmanypoints,no focus forher toattack.‘Onlyifwemountupthedeadofthosethatmakeitsostrongcanwepenetrateitsveil,’sheconcluded.

Meliniel tookamoment tosurveytheongoingbattle,piecingtogetherwhathecouldphysicallyseewithwhatherecalledfromthelastreports.It seemed that, ashehad thought,Azkahrwas right.The few forays into the

central building had been feints, while the majority of the Zaisuthran forcesconsolidatedtheirpositionsintheoutertowers,stablesandhalls.Hecouldseemanyofthemnow,thetelltaleglintofsilverinwindowsandatdoorways, their lasrifles trained on the upper storeys of themanse itself. Thegrav-tanks prowled above, keeping guard against counter-attack rather thansupportingathrustintothemainbuilding.Doubtless they were also taking stock, marshalling their forces for a finalincursion.TheYnnaricouldreachsomeofthewaveserpentsandraiders, afewjetbikes.Severalhadbeenleft inanundergroundspacebeneaththetower-wall,moreinthecourtyardsandonthemainroadleadingupthroughthemoors.IftheycouldfindsomewayofdistractingtheZaisuthrans, justforashortwhile, theycouldsallyforth,retakesomeofthetransportsandbreakfree.Wheretoafterthat?Itdidn’tmatter,Melinielrealised.Theaeldariwerealwaysloathtobepinnedtoaplace,preferringtheflexibilityandspaceofrovingcombat.FromhistimeasthewielderoftheSwordwindheknew perfectly well the value of space and distance. And among his numberwerereaver-bikers,hellionridersandothers thatnotonlyexcelledatsuchfastmovingbattlesbutcravedit.OnlyhismostadamantcommandsandtheirloyaltytoYnneadhadconvincedthemtoremaininsidethemansewhenthefirstattackshadtakenplace–hadtheyleftthen,hehadnodoubttheywouldhaveallbeenhunteddownandslainpiecemealbynow.‘Where’smydaggerinthesleeve,Azkahr?’hedemandedoverthemessengercarrier.‘Nowwouldbeagoodtimetoseeitslippedintothebackofourenemy.’Noreplywasforthcoming.Melinielcheckedbelow,toassurehimselfthat theStrikingScorpionshadfinishedeliminatingtheattackacrossthebridge.Hesawthem standing in a group amid the scattered remnants of their enemies, theirattentiondrawn to somethingat the farendof the slender span.Their leader’swarningcameatthesametimeasMelinielspiedmovementontheoppositesideofthegap.‘Infiltrators of the Great Devourer! Zaisuthra is beset by alien corruption,autarch.’Fromtheslendertoweracrossthedivide,dozensofpowerful,lopingcreaturesburst intoview,clawsflexing,blackeyesfixedupon theeightgreen-armouredwarriors on the pale stones of the skybridge.Meliniel’s chest tightened as hewatched the tyranid-spawned monstrosities, even as his befuddled thoughts

soughttocomprehendhowtheycametobehere.‘Azkahr!’Desperationtoreclarityintohiscloudedmind.‘Geteveryonetothetransports.Now!Childrenoftheair,castYnnead’s netupontheskies!’He was torn between jumping down to help the Striking Scorpions, andfollowinghisowncommand.Theaspectwarriorsfiredtheirshurikenpistolsattheapproachingknotofwhip-fastaliens,cuttingdownseveraloftheirnumber,butafractionoftheirstrength.Itwaspointlessfor themtoturnandrun–thegenestealerswereswiftereventhanaeldari,especiallytheheavilyarmouredStrikingScorpions.Melinielfireddown,afewvolleysofshurikenthatdidlittletobluntthecomingspearpointofhorrificalienwarriors.Abovetheroofsaroundhimthefirstjetbikesandskyweaversliftedagainstthepaleclouds,theirridersgunningtheirmachinestofullspeedastheyclearedtheenclosingwallsandhills.Hearingaugmentedbythesystemsofhisautarchsuit,he caught a distant but familiar purr of grav-motors, and cast his eye to theskyline in time to see the sleek shapesof two raiders slipover the crest, theiropendecksfilledwiththewarriorsofAzkahr’s‘concealedblade’.Hegavesilentthanks,theirtimingcouldnothavebeenbetter.Melinielturnedawayandbrokeintoarun.ItwouldbeuptoIyannaorYvraineto call down the wrath of the dead waiting in the starships, for in a singlepounding beat of his heart his mission had gone from winning to simplysurviving.

CHAPTER27

AGODWHISPERS

ThePatriarchhisseditsdispleasure,thrustingthetipoftheSuinDallaetowardsIyanna.Shewasgonefromthegroupmindagain,ejectedasanoutsider,andfeltnothingofthepsychicimperativethataccompaniedthegesture.Theresultswereimmediatethough,asthemembersoftheHouseofArienalreleasedtheirhand-holdingandadvancedwithsnarlsandcurses.Iyanna leapt towards Sydari, who had drawn a dagger shaped like Khaine’srunefromhissleeve.Shebattedasidetheclumsyblow,breakinghiswristsothatthebladeclatteredtothefloor.Withherotherhandshesnatchedhimaroundthethroat,talon-likenailsofherunglovedhandpressingweltsintothefleshabovehisartery.Shehadfelthispresenceinthegroupmind,andalthoughthePatriarchwas the end and the beginning of the psychicweb, Sydariwas the focus, theaeldari lens throughwhich thealien’s thoughtswerebroadcast.His losswouldcrippletheZaisuthransevenastheywarredwiththeYnnari.‘YourLord-GuardiandiesbeforeIdo,’Iyannasnarled,turningaroundfromthePatriarchtothecovenandbackagain.‘Staywhereyouare.’Thecommand tohaltwas as immediate as theone to attack,obeyedwithouthesitation.A few of theArienali hadweapons – laspistols brought forth frombeneathcloaks,swordsanddaggersdraggedfromsheaths.Othershadonlytheirclawsandfangs,thegenetic legacyofthecreaturethathadcorruptedthem,butsuch weapons were as equally lethal as those fashioned in Zaisuthra’sweaponshops.‘Theywillnotletyouleave,’croakedSydari.Withagrimaceheprisedhimselffromhergripandsteppedback.‘Youwereafooltoleavebehindyourweapon.Soeasilymanipulated.Yourgriefmakesyouweak.’

‘Idonotcarryaweapontocomfortmeinmygrief,’Iyannareplied.Herheartquickenedas sheheldout anemptyhand. ‘I carry it toassuagemy rage.Andthatisalwayswithme.’Blueflameburstfromheropenpalm,arodoffirethatsolidifiedinhergrasptobecome the gleaming Spear of Teuthlas, the horrified expression of Sydarireflectedinitsgoldenblade.Before the Lord-Guardian could react, Iyanna thrust the polearm, lancing itthrough the chest ofSydari, tip shearing through ribs, heart and spinewithoutpause.Inhisdeath-throesshesawherfatherstill,andwonderedifhehadlookedthesamewhentheconflagrationfromthetorpedoeshadengulfedherfamily.As though a spellwere broken, theArienal coven closed on her again in aninstant,butIyanna’sthoughtswerenotofthem.SheleaptoverSydari’sfallingcorpse,propellingherselftowardsthePatriarch.It rose out of the throne, flames erupting from its darkened flesh, iron-and-bronze chitin-shaped armour reflecting the inferno gleam. The Suin DallaescreecheditsownbloodlustasthePatriarchhauleditsbulkfromtheironchair,hamperedbyitsunnaturalhybridform.Neitherdemigodnoralienbroodfather,thePatriarchwasnotcomfortable in itsownbodyandslashedaclumsyblow,theburningheadofitsweaponpassingwellclearofthespearofTeuthlasraisedtodefendagainstit.‘You are an abomination in every sense,’ snapped Iyanna, ducking beneath aclawtip.‘Godsandfiendsbothdisownyou!’Theauric-edgeofherweaponcaughtitschest,settingfreeagoutofsparksthatturnedtopatteringdropletsofalienichor.Iyannadodgedanotherswipingclaw-blow, narrowly avoiding the throne as she darted past the Patriarch. Itsbackswingwas faster, catchingaglancingblowagainsther shoulder, settingablazeofpsychicfireburningfromherarmour,aresonantflareofpowersettingfiretoIyanna’sthoughts.Ithadanotherweaponthough,morepowerfulthaneventhespearofawargod.For a heartbeat Iyanna felt the intake of power, the sudden vacuum as thePatriarch absorbed the psychic latency of the groupmind, syphoning away thevestigialthoughtsofalltheaeldarithatcomprisedit.TheArienalistumbledandshuddered.Somecriedout,othersgaspedinecstasyastheirwickedmastertooktheirpsychicpowerintoitself.ThebluntforceofthepsychicattackhurledIyannasidewaysthroughtheair,tocrash her against the remnants of the inner sanctum’s fleshywall. The impactsentcoruscationsofwhiteandgreenpowerscythingacrosstheembraceofher

runicarmourwhiletalonsofpurepsychicenergytriedtoshredherthoughtsandasilentwailofalienmalignancyshudderedthroughhersenses.Iyanna knew better than to fight the force of the groupmind. She knew thepower there, and couldnomore resist its batteringwaves than she couldholdbackastarshipwithherhand.Butshehadbeenwithin,hadseenitsstructureandpurpose, andknew that itwas asmuch a part ofZaisuthra itself as itwas theZaisuthransandthePatriarch.And somewhere out there, through the crackle of alienminds and corruptedaeldarispirits,hercompanions,theYnnariweredying.She felt thewisps of their escaping spirits, like a vortex aroundYvraine, theemissaryherselfastalagmite-likepillarof iceamongtheswirl, theblood-hueddaggeroftheVisarchbyherside.Iyannaknewnothingoftheunfoldingbattle,onlythattherewasdeathonbothsides.ForeachlossoftheZaisuthrans,thegroupmindwasdiminished.ForeveryYnnarideath…

Iyanna let her thoughts fold into themselves, creating a short-lived psychicimplosion. Within the storm of the groupmind, targeted by the Patriarch’sassault, Iyanna became a lode for the departing aeldari spirits. Through her,through the tissue-memoryof thecraftworld itself, thepower raged, spreadingfrostandnumbnesswheretheypassed.ItwasnotenoughandIyannareachedout,sendingbarbsofthoughtoutintothegroupmind,piercingandprodding,anchoringherthoughtswithslenderhooksinthesoulofhersister-of-the-dead,asilverchainlinkingtheirminds.‘Yvraine!’ Iyanna called out, thewords giving impetus to the thoughts. ‘TheWhisperingGodrises.’

ThebrushingcontactfromIyannasetYvraine’ssoulafire.Likeabridgeacrossadark chasm, a piercing beacon in the depth of night, the spiritseer’s thoughtsreachedoutthroughthemurkofthegroupmind.Morethanthat,sheopenedupherthoughtstoYvraine,everyfibreofhermortalbeingattunedtotheforcesofthedead.ThesuddeninfluxofpowerfromacrossZaisuthra,fuelledbydyingYnnariintheHighlandsofDistantRepose,struckYvrainelikeathunderbolt.Shelit likeanoil-soakedbrand,whitefireengulfingherfromheadtofoot.Thedead ragedand screamed inher thoughts, their raw force twisting insideher skin, tearing at herheart, drowningher lungswith their agony.Quivering,teethinarictus,Yvraineheldinthepower.Itcrawledalonghernerveendings

andsent flickersof colourdancingacrosshervisionbut shewouldnot let theunboundfuryofthedeadleaveher.Iyannawastherestill,asthoughholdingoutahand,allbutherpalefingerslostinthedarknessofthegroupmind.Yvrainerealisedwhatthespiritseerintended,sawthathermindwasinsidethemonstrous brood-thoughts of the genestealers. Her words drifted through andYvraineregainedfocus.‘Ynneadrises,’echoedtheOpeneroftheSeventhWay.

Yvraine did not release the fires of the dead, but channelled it in, deep downthrough her own soul into the abysswhere theWhisperingGod awaited. Shebecamethefulcrumofapsychicleverbetweenrealms,hermindtheaxleuponwhichfateturnedforaheartbeat.Silently shrieking, the vengeful dead incarnate, theYncarne rose up from itssomnolence,conjuredintobeingbythedeathcriesofYnnead’sfaithful.Itclawedat the threadsbetween immaterialandmaterial, trying toweave foritselfa formwithwhich tosmite theenemiesof theWhisperingGod.Yvrainedid not allow it, her thoughts a barrier to its incarnation, and in return shereceivedablisteringwaveofanger-heatwashingthroughher.She took the pain and shared it with Iyanna, the sister-of-the-dead drawingawaytheireoftheYncarnewiththechillofthetomb.Yvraine flexed her thoughts, pulling the Yncarne into the material realmthroughherownbody,ascreamwrenchedfromherlips,everyfibresingingwithrazorpainasthemanifestingentitypassedthroughher.She let the rising power flow on, from her thoughts into those of Iyanna,passingtheYncarne’semergingsoulasonemightpourwaterfromonevesseltothenext.Asthelastvestigesofthegodofthedead’savatarslippedoutfromhersenses,Yvrainesawthroughitspresenceintotheheartofthegroupmind.Foraninstantshewitnessedtheconstellationofthousandsofaeldarithoughts,boundtogetherby the grotesque matrix of Zaisuthra’s half-living body, the nodes of thepurestraingenestealers,theirmindslikeblackfirelight.The Opener of the Seventh Way felt a surge of joy as Iyanna released theYncarne,notintothephysicalplanebutintotheessenceofthegroupminditself.

Like electricity along a circuit, the chill touch of the Dead One flared andmultipliedacrossthereelingpsychicnetwork.DaggericiclesoftheWhisperingGod’swratharrowedthroughthemindsoftheZaisuthransandspearedintothe

alienthoughtsofthegenestealers.The craftworld shuddered, a great upheaval that sent Ynnari and Zaisuthranalikestumblingandseekingsupport.Ahideousmoan,borninthemindnottheear, rumbled through the domes and arterialways, the ground shuddering andwallsbowingasthevibrationpassedfromthehubtotheouterrim.Triumphant,theYncarneragedthroughthebio-crystallinevesselsofZaisuthra,feedingonthesoul-matterthatpermeatedtheartificialorgansandarteries.TheWhispering God’s avatar smote down all resistance, crashing through thebarriersofthegenestealers’brood-presence,itsbirth-thrashingsendingripplesofdestructionacrossthecraftworld.Artificialstarsfellfromdomedskies,bringingfieryruintothehillsidetownsandmountainfastnessesbelow.Explosionsblossomed,asbrightasnoon,untilafew heartbeats later their energy was spent and a disquieting dusk befellZaisuthra.The Yncarne roared and howling winds raged across dunes and tundra,becomingthedeathscreamofZaisuthra.Foreststoppledandseasbucked,tidalwavesandhurricanessweepingaway thousandsofaeldari in their torrentsandstorms.GreatcrevassestoreopenthetowersofSundervale,plunginghallsandbridgesand hundreds of members of the House of Arienal into the spasming crystalstructurefarbelow.Cruellaughtermettheirdemise,theYncarnesuppinguponsoulstuffwrenchedfromtheprotectiveenclaveofthegroupmind.No part ofZaisuthrawas spared the cataclysm, the catastrophe every part asdestructiveanddeadlyasthebirth-throesoftheYncarnethathadfracturedthecraftworld of Biel-tan. To Ynnead went all, the souls of the loyal and theuncaringequally;totheWhisperingGodallspiritsreturned.Itwas a divine deliverance, one thatwas perhapsmore than the Zaisuthransdeserved for their perfidy. Having traded their souls to their alien invader,perhaps not willingly but knowingly, they had eluded SheWho Thirsts for atime. In the bosom of Ynnead they would know the peace of eternal rest, aforetasteof thefutureofallaeldarishouldYvraine’splancometofruitionandYnneadwasfullyawoken.Evenin thebowelsofZaisuthra theYncarne’sdevastationwasfelt.Thefloorrockedandthewallsbuckled,scatteringthecombatantsofbothsides.AroundtheOpenerandacrossthecraftworld,theZaisuthransscreamed,addingtheir cries to the voiceless dismay of their home. They flailed and staggered,handsheld to theirheads, retchingandshriekingas thecoreof thegroupmind

wasshreddedbytheice-clawsofYnnead’srevenge.Genestealers hissed and skittered about inmindless instinct, flailing claws atthefloorandwalls,twitchingandrollingasrawaeldaripowerfloodedtheiralienskulls.

Thewhineofanti-gravenginesatfullthrottledrownedoutthekeeningwindasMeliniel and his remaining warriors soared over the undulating moors. Theirswift jetbikes, raiders and wave serpents had left behind the more sedatetransportsoftheZaisuthransbutornithoptergunshipsswoopedafterthem.Beak-prows parted to reveal laser-spitting cannons, the Zaisuthran flyersopenedfire.FlashesofredandbluesparkedpastthefleeingYnnari,confoundedbythecriss-crossofskyweaversandvoidweaversfromtheMasqueofMidnightSorrow,theaimoftheirpursuersthrownawrybytheHarlequins’holofieldsandmiragelaunchers.Melinielwincedasasalvocaughtoneoftheotherraiders,screechingalongitslength in a series of detonations, tossing Howling Banshees to the groundblurringpastbelow.Thetransportveeredsharplyandcrashedintoanoutcropofrock,bladedshardsofarmourandgrav-enginescatteredoverthehillside.‘Thisisallwellfornow,’saidAzkahrbesidehimonthedeckofaraider.‘Butwecannotfleeindefinitely.Atsomepointwearegoingtorunoutofdome.’‘Sometimesit isnot importantwhereyouarerunningto,’repliedtheautarch.‘Only what we are running from. Adapt. That is the greatest lesson I havelearned from theYnnari.Deathwaits for us all, it is notwise to plan too farahead.’The Highlands of Distant Repose reverberated to a crack louder than anythunderMelinielhadeverheard.Fromtheaftdeckoftheraider,helookeduptoseestormcloudsroilingunnaturallyacross the twilit sky.He thoughthesawafacecarvedbythebillowingmass,halfaeldari,halfdaemonic.ThefaceoftheYncarne.‘Was that…’ began Azkahr, but his words were cut short by another ear-splittingcrash.Lightning lashed down from the raging storm, blasts of black that earthedthrough the circling ornithopters, setting artificial flesh and feathers ablaze.ApulseoflightdrewtheeyebacktoWithershield.Thegroundbeneaththemanseandtowerseruptedasthoughuponablack-firedvolcano. It was not boiling magma that exploded from the ground, but acoruscationofragingsouls.Hundreds-strong,thedeceasedvortexshatteredthe

buildings, casting the stones far out upon the hillsides, crushing hybrids andgenestealersbeneatharainofblocksandbricks.Swirling, the dead became a towering whirlwind, dragging in gunships andtransports,hurlingbouldersand trees through thedazedsquadsofZaisuthrans.InthecentreofthetornadoMelinielsawagainthegrimfigureoftheYncarne,drawnintheblurofdetritusandspinningcorpses.On the moorlands about the broken ruins the Zaisuthrans were in disarray,manyofthemstruckdownbysomeinvisiblehand,othersrunningtoandfroinpanic.‘Nowisourchance,’saidMeliniel.‘Wemuststrikewhiletheyarereeling.’‘I thought we were running away?’ said Azkahr. He pointed to one of thenearbydomegates,halfhiddenbyanupheavelofearthandsplinteredrock.‘Adapt,’ repliedMeliniel.A laugh of relief escaped before he regained somemeasureofself-control.‘Adaptandsurvive.Allwings,counter-attack!’

‘Kill themall!’ ragedYvraine, her commanddirected not only to theYncarnewreaking havoc and despair, but through its presence into theminds of everyYnnari.Likea siren,her thoughts soared from theconfinesof thegroupmind,reachingouttothecrewsstillupontheships,alightinginthespirit-slumberofthewraith-deadlegionthatwaitedthere.AndfeywasthemoodoftheYnnari,mercilessastheyputgunandbladetouseagainst the devastated and disorientated Zaisuthrans. With each that died thegroupmind dwindled, every escaping soul now swelling the disembodiedYncarne.Likeaparasitewithtendrilssetintoeveryarteryofitshost,theavataroftheWhisperingGodabsorbedtheescapingsoulstuff,wringingeverydropofstrength from each aeldari and alien death, syphoning away the immenselifeforceofZaisuthraitself.Yvrainegloriedinthetriumph.ShewastheYncarneandherfingersandlimbswere its incorporeal reach. She felt the craftworld buckling under the twistinggripofherhatred,energyfieldsflickeringintonothing,exposingdomesto thefreezing,airlessvoid.Thousandsmoredied inmoments,anotherhugeupswellofpower forYnnead, andas it floodedhermindandbody she roseup,gownaflamewithwhitefire,eyesapaleblaze.TheYncarnedemandedmore,demandedthespiritofZaisuthrainreturnfortheagonythecraftworldhadcaused.YvrainefoughtbacktheYnnead-born,strainingagainstitswilddeath-lust.TheDoomofZaisuthracravedeveryparticleofsoulstuff, itshungerasdeepas the

chasmofSheWhoThirsts.TheOpeneroftheSeventhWayalmostlostherselfinthebottomlessgulfoftheWhisperingGod.She remembered the oblivion of Starshone’s test, the nothingness that hadengulfedher.Haditbeenaforesightofthismoment,orsimplyanabstractionofherhopesanddreams?Thinking on that moment focused Yvraine’s thoughts, separating her mortalaeldarimindfromthetempestoftheYncarne.Withtheseparationcamegrowingclarity,butitwashardtoconcentrate,tostepbackfromtheabyssthatbeckoned.Ared-maskedhelmswaminhervision.Thepast,halfremembered.Fleeing for her life, pursued through the streets of Commorragh. A crimsonwarrior who fought in the same manner as her former exarch, his blade aflashing thing of beautiful lethality.Words, softly spoken, sincere butwith anedgeofhumour.‘IamsimplycalledtheVisarch,forIcastasidemynamelongago,butitwouldbeveryfamiliartoyou.YvraineoftheBiel-tani,ourpathsjoinoncemore.’Andolderstill,recollectionsfromalifesodistantnowitcouldhavebelongedto another. That same dancing sword, upon a dozen battlefields, the death ofhundreds. But more than just bloodshed. Cycles spent in peace, a brieftranquilitysnatchedfromthechaosthathadbeenherlifebeforeandsince.QuietreposeintheshrineoftheSilveredBlade.Adifferentsortofpeacesweptthroughher,thesilenceofthetomb.ItquenchedtheireoftheYncarnethatgoadedhertolashoutatthedyingZaisuthrans.‘Mistress!Would you see us all dead?’ The Visarch’s voice cut through theeuphoria.‘Wouldyoudestroythatwhichwesought?’Sheresisted,turningtheWhisperagainsttheYncarne,corrallingitspowerevenas she regained hermortal senses and understood how close she had come todestroyingeverything.YvraineturnedhereyetotheGateofMalice,itsrunesbutafitfulgleaminthetwilightofthehall.IfZaisuthradiedentirely,sotootheirpathtotheWelloftheDead.Shebecameawareofher immediatesurroundings,and floatedgentlyback tothefloorastheenergyoftheWhisperdeparted.Thegatesaboutherweredim,their essence sucked dry by the demigod unleashedwithin the psychicmatrixthat sustained them. In a last fleetingglimpse into theYncarne’s otherworldlysenses shesawstarships spitting forth shuttlesandgunships, thecompaniesof

theGhostHallsdescendingtowardsthebrokencraftworld.‘It isdone,’shesaid,almostcollapsingasshe let thepresenceofYnneadfallfromherasonemightletslipacoattothefloor.Shesheditspowerwithasigh,theVisarchtheretosupportherwithahandbeneathherarm.For one heartbeat, then another she felt theWhisper a-quiver with recedingpower.Andthensilence.

CHAPTER28

SAVINGIYANNA

ThepurgingofZaisuthracontinued.InthevoidbeyondthedomesanddefencefieldsYnnead’sDream and the other starships of theYnnari levelledweaponsbatteriesandtorpedoesattheattendantfleetofthecraftworld.The Opener of the Seventh Way remained at the Hall of Gates. With thegroupmindshatteredshewasabletofeelherYnnariagain,areassuringwashofsouls dedicated to Ynnead. TheWhisper linked her to them and they to her,thoughitwasonconventionalmessenger-wavesthatshecontactedMelinielandtheothers.‘Letnothingofthistaintsurvive,’Yvrainecommandedherfollowers,referringto the genestealer infestation that had waylaid the aeldari. ‘Not one of thesealiensorsavagesescapes.’Across the craftworld itself, the Ynnari and hosts of the Ghost Halls sweptthrough chamber and moorland, mountain valley and audience hall, breakingtowers and bringing ruin to all that they encountered. They broke open thestructureofZaisuthraitself,exposingthemalignantarteriesofthegroupmind,ofwithered vines of black and plates of bruised crystal left near lifeless by theravagesof thevengefulYncarne– theWhisperingGod’savatarnowdeparted,itsthirstforsoulseventuallysated.Wraithlords set upon the survivors with gleaming blades and the burningenergy of brightlances and firepikes. Wraithblade and wraithguard cohortsmarchedalongsidecoteriesofwychesandsquadsofaspectwarriorstoclearallpresenceoftheZaisuthransfromsubterraneanpalacesandfloatingsky-temples.Theytoppledthestatuesandshrinesalso,feelingnothingbutloathingforthosethathaderectedthemonumentsandcathedralstothememoryofdeadgods,their

worshipnothingmorethanadelusionalmaskfor thealiendominancethathadtakenthemgenerationspast.TheVisarchledoneofthecompanies,hisCoiledBladeandahandfulofaspectwarriorsathisback.Vindicationfuelledhim,thethoughtthathehadwaitedidlyfortheZaisuthranstospringtheirattacklikeathornthatworriedathisthoughts.Complacencyhadalmostseen themdoomedand theformerexarchexpungedhisresidualguiltwiththebloodofthosewhohadwrongedhispeople.Itmatterednot thatmanywereunwittingin theschemethathadensnaredtheYnnari. Few had gone willingly into the embrace of alien corruption, but allweretouchedbyit.Zaisuthraitself,thestreetsandbridges,theriversandrocks,wassickwiththetyranidtaint,andnoneweremoreaghastatthisthanTelathausand Iyasta. Too strong were the memories of the destruction brought to theirhome,andtoorighteoustheirmoodtobringequaldevastationtothelegacyofthe genestealers.While theYnnari slew themortal remnants of the enslavingcartel, the twowarlocksdragged into thepurging light the last shadowsof thegroupmind.

Iyanna…didnothing.Yvraine found her in the Temple of the Patriarch, standing among theZaisuthrandead,herspearheldtooneside,gazedistant.She was physically and spiritually spent by the battle and the drain ofunleashing the Yncarne into the groupmind, but it was emotionally that thefatiguehungmostheavily.Therewasbarelyaflickerofrecognitionforthesister-of-the-dead,andthoughthe Opener of the SeventhWay reached out with hand and mind, and spokewordsofcondolenceandcomfort,thespiritseergavenoresponse.Concerned, Yvraine passed word for Althenian to attend them, in theknowledgethattheformerexarchknewherbetterthananyotherandsharedanevengreaterbondthanshe.Whenthewraithlordenteredthehall,hisfirstlookwastothethroneofKhaineandtheblastedremainsofthePatriarchslumpedbeforeit.‘On thin thread, most slender of the crone’s weave, hung our fate,’ he toldYvraine.‘Agreatdebt,owedbyalltoIyanna,forthischance.Agreatdebtthatnotalifeofaccountcouldrepay.’‘You are right, and I fear shepays the cost afresh,’ saidYvraine, guidinghisattentiontotheinertspiritseer.‘Notcasuallydoweshareourthoughtswiththedarkness of the alien soul. She touched something powerful and diseased and

alloweditintoherspiritsothatwecouldstrikeback.Ithinkwehavelosthertothegroupmind.’‘She is safe,’ said the wraithlord, crouching beside the unmoving seer. Amassive hand gently touched the breastplate of her armour, palm upon theglowingwaystonesetthere.‘Iwillbringherbacktoyou,Ipromise.’

Theairwasthickwithsmoke,lightgreyplumesthatrosefromtheburningruinofthetemples.Alongthevastlengthofthestreetallhadbeenengulfedbytheconflagration. The porticoes and domes had fallen, the statues toppled by theblaststhathadwrackedtheStreetoftheDead.Iyannawanderedtheruination,clothedintatteredrags,tearsstreakingthesootthatcoatedher face.Life fluid,crimsonandhot,drippedfromher fingers inagrotesquemimicryofBloody-HandedKhaine.Herbarefeetsteppeduponshardsofshatteredboneandsliversofsharpcrystalbutshefeltnothing.Shefeltnothing.Suchcouldbesaidforeverythingabouther.AsIyannalookedatthefallenmausoleumsandsteppedoverthebrokenrubbleof her ancestors’memory she had eyes only for the horizon,where a burningspearthrustintotheskylikearisingsun.Hertoecaughtonsomethingandshefinallylookeddown.Herfather’sface,absentthetipofhisnoseandanear,lookedbackupather,acrackrunningfromchintothecornerofhisrighteye.In the next instant she saw him whole and alive, and standing before her,smiling,offeringkinshipandhopeandcomfort.‘Alie,’shemurmured.Shedidnotbelieveherowntestimony.Itwastoovisceraltoignore.Butthefacewasnotherfather’s.ItwasSydari’s.Andhe…Whathadhebeen?Adistantuncle?Aseveredcousin?Shemusedonthedetailforthemoment,seekingdistractionfromthetruth.Hehadbeenfamily.TheyhadbeenoftheHouseofArienal.Andshehaddoomedthemall.Shestoopedtopickupthebrokenheadbutstopped,hertearsfallingontothesculptedeyes,makingthemglistenasifalsocrying.Iyanna’sfingerstracedthecurveofthejaw,remembering.Iyanna feltapresencebehindher,burning,close, familiar. In thedropletofatearshesawthedistortedreflectionofhervisitor.Afigureofshadowwithfireforeyes,ofsmokegivenform.

‘Youhavefinallycomebackforme,KaelaMenshaKhaine,’shesaid,closinghereyes.‘Youletnonewalkfreefromyourgrasp.’Feelnoguilt.Theydiednotatyourdemand,Iyanna, saidhercompanion,hisvoicesoftandcompelling.Heedmywords.Bloodisnotuponyourhands,theyareclean.Thiswasfated,adoomsetintomotion,beforewelived.‘They are all dead, Althenian,’ Iyanna replied, rising, opening her eyes, theemptinessreplacedwithamournfulnesssodeepitthreatenedtodrownher.Yestheyare.Theyhavebeentakenfromyou.Yetyoulive.The simple admissionwasmore powerful than any platitude or sympathy. Itwasacceptance,andfromitcamestrengthandfromthestrengthcameastrangecomfort.Not hope.Hopewas for poets. Simply determination, resolution thatevenwithouthopenotallwaslost.All aredead, but it is not the end yet, Iyanna.We fight on.Weare theghostwarriors.Ynnari.

CHAPTER29

THEGATEOFMALICE

TheystoodbeforetheGateofMaliceandtherewasnotone,noteventhedead,thatdidnotfeelthehotwrathofthewargodflowingfromitsmetal.Therunesof Kaela Mensha Khaine wrought into the crossed blades of the gatewayflickeredwithfireandtheairbetweenwrithedasthoughtorturedbyheat.Thesmellofbloodhungaboutthedireportal,theblackmarblestepuponwhichitsatveinedwithcrimson.Itsglowfelluponthefeaturelessdomesofthewraithnobles,theHouselesssuchasAlthenianarrayedbehindthem.InthecorridorsandchambersaroundtheHallofGatesthehostsoftheGhostHallswaitedforthecommandoftheirleaders,asdid theYnnariarmyhangingon thewordofYvraine.OnlyabsentwereIyastaandTelathaus.WithallhopeofalliancewithZaisuthradestroyed,thetwinshadexcused themselves of any further involvement in ‘this sorry mess’ and hadreturned to their ship with the handful of survivors from their escort. TheirpresencewasnotmissedbytheYnnari.TheOpenerof theSeventhWaystoodbefore itsbleakmajesty, theSwordofSorrowsbared,herwar fanheldacrossher face,shieldinghermouthfromthewashofvapoursthatcoiledfromtheenergisedportal.‘Itfedontheirdeaths,’saidYvraine,meaningtheZaisuthrans.‘No,Ynneadtookthatpower,’counteredtheVisarch.‘DeathholdsnolureforKhaine,only the takingof life.Thesouldeparted is theephemeraofour livescastaside,andthatgoestoYnnead.TheBloody-Handed,heismoredesiringoftheact,themomentwhenmortalityiscleavedinhalf,whenviolencebreaksthebond.’‘Bloodshed,then,’saidIyanna.Thegateletoutalowmoan,echoingthewords

fromher,indistinctbutpervertedwithcruelintonation.‘War, murder, it matters not,’ said the Visarch. ‘The slaughter we haveperpetratedmustecholoudthroughthehallsoftime.’‘Not least that perversion ofKhaine’sAvatar that died by your hand, sister,’saidYvraine.ShehadlookeduponthegrotesquecorpseofthePatriarchandmarvelledatthefusionofalienbeast andmetaphysicaldemigod.The fusingof immaterial andmaterialmadeherwondermoreaboutherself,abouttheenergiesshechannelledwhenshesummonedtheYncarne.ShehadbroughtforththemanifestationoftheWhisperingGod, drawn theYncarne from the place betweenworldswhere ithad been born among the death throes of Biel-tan, there had been amomentwhenshehadnotknownanybarrier.SheandtheYncarnehadbeenone.Was it possible that the fate that awaited her in the blooding of the fivecroneswords was not simply the wakening of Ynnead but her own personaltransformation into something beyond mortal? Not simply Reborn, butAscended?ItwaslikeYvrainetothinkofsuchagrandiosebecoming,toacceptthedeathofher speciesyet expect remarkabledestiny forherself.But itwasnotpurelyselfishness that drove these thoughts.Time and again it seemed that since herawakeningintheCrucibaelYvrainehadbeendestinedforsomethingmorethantosharethequietdeathofherpeople.Shewasanemissaryofagod,afterall.‘Life and death.’ Runes cut the air with a hiss as the wraithseer KelmonFiresight moved from the group of tall constructs. ‘Beyond, if myth is to bebelieved,liestheWelloftheDead.Whocansaywhatthatnameforetells?’‘Aseer,maybe?’mutteredtheVisarch.Kelmon turnedonYvraine’schampion, runesspinning faster, swirlingaroundthewarriorandseer,bindingthemtogetherinablurofflashingpsychictrails.‘Icannotlookpastdeath,foolishcreature,’Kelmonsaidslowly.‘Norintothedepthsoflegend.Ifwearetobelievewhathasbeenwritten,westepthroughtothe burial place ofEldanesh.More than that, to the sitewhere bloodyKhainestruckhimdown.Itisnotsimplyarestingplace,itisanexusoffate.’HemovedtoYvraine,hisshadowchillingafterthepricklingheatfromtheGateofMalice.Asinglerune,oftheBloodGod,swayedbackandforthinfrontoftheOpener of the SeventhWay, hypnotising as it spun about its axis, alternatingcoloursofbone,shadowandblood.‘Ynneadcontrolspoweroverthedead.ImustaskagainthequestionraisedbytheSoulseeker,LordAethon.Whatdoyouhopetofindontheotherside?Ifyou

would resurrect the ancient dead, think carefully on what you bring back. IfYnnead should rise, would other gods return?’ Kelmon waved a broad hand,indicating the other gates arrayed about the group. His hand came to rest, afinger pointing up to the rune of Khaine that smoldered in the ceiling abovethem.‘Notallgodswishourpeoplewell.’‘Asword,’saidYvraine.‘Iseekthecronesword.Nothingmore.’Kelmonwithdrew, leavingYvrainestoodbefore thebalefulportaloncemore.She took a step, and then another, heart beating faster and faster as sheapproached.Shewas three strides from thebaseof thegatewhen theVisarch interceptedher.Heshookhishead.‘Youarenot stepping through first,’ hedeclared. ‘Wehaveno ideawhat liesbeyond,ifanythingatall.’‘IwouldasknoothertodowhatIwouldnot,’saidYvraine.‘Standaside,mychampion.’The Visarch did not move. Alorynis raked claws across the metal of hisgreaves, the screech of their touch jarring the nerves of all present that drewbreath.‘Together,ifyoumust,’concededYvraine,indicatingfortheVisarchtosteptoher side. Behind, the surviving Bloodbrides and Coiled Blade moved closer,joinedbytheblue-armouredwarriorsoftheSilveredBladeDireAvengers.Thesoulbound.Bladesheldbeforethem,theysteppedontotheplinthand,together,passedintothehotwindthatsighedaroundthemingreeting.

Transitionwasnear-instant,theVisarchrealised.Therewasnotraversingofthewebway, simply stepping from Zaisuthra to… this place. He had expectedsomethingmore,perhapsaringoffire,aclarionofharshtrumpets.Forajourneyofsuchimportitstruckhimasunderwhelming.Theheatfromthegatedidnotdissipateas theVisarchfelthis treadsinkintosoftsand.Everythingwasharsh,fromthebrightredskytothedrynessoftheair,totheshrillkeenofasharpwindacrosshisarmour.A faltering breath reminded him of Yvraine at his side. The Opener of theSeventhWayheldherfanacrossherface,deflectingtheparticlesofsandcarriedintheair–particleshehadnotevennoticed,enclosedwithinhiswarsuit.He took another step, the sketch of sand shifting beneath his tread. TheVisarch’s eyes adjusted to the glare and hemade out dunes of dark red. The

desertseemedendless,stretchingineverydirectiontothehorizon,whereitbledintotheskywithbarelyachangeinhue.Thesoundoffootstepscausedhimtomoveforwards,tomakeroomforthosecomingthroughtheportalbehind.AshadowfelloverhimandhedidnotneedtoturntorecognisetheshapeofAlthenian,thefarsmallershadowofIyannaatthewraithlord’sside.Morecame,thesoulboundbodyguardofYvraine.Theirarrivalthroughtheheatshimmer was like a mirage taking shape, first a vague movement that thenbecame an outline, which eventually resolved into solid figures, as thoughemergingfromagreatdistancethoughthegatewasnomorethanadozenpacesaway.Amurmurofdiscontentandseveralshoutsofdismayescapedthethroatsofthehardened fighters, even those of his former shrine on Biel-tan and the battle-swornoftheincubi.Takenaback,theVisarchtookamomenttorealisethattheywerestaringalmostdirectlyup.He turned then, to see thegatebehind.From this side itwasablackobelisk,easilytentimeshisheight,taperingtoapointfarabovehishead.Therewasnotamarkuponitssurface,onlythetelltaleglimmeroftheheatwashtobetraytheportalway.Hecontinuedtofollowtheirgazesandsawthereasonfortheirdismay.Directlyabovethemonolithhungaredmoon,itssurfacepockedwithcraters,edgedbyahaloofwhat seemed tobedark flame. Itspresence loomedon thethought aswell as in the eye, aweight that settled upon theminds of all thatlooked upon it, oppressive and unkind. It sucked in all vitality, leeching theenergyfromthesky.Looking too longupon the sight invertedone’s perception, so that insteadoflooking up at an object against the sky, one was looking down into terribledepths.TheWelloftheDead.TheVisarchtrembledtolookuponit,despiteallthoughtandexperiencetothecontrary.Itwasbeyondreasoning,beyondtrainingandanyappealtowillpowerordiscipline.Itwasrawfear.Jawclenched,hetightenedhisgriponthehiltofhisswordandfeltsweatrundownhischeek–thoughitmayhavebeenatear.Notanyredmoonthis,buttheRedMoonofdarkestlegend;theorbstainedbythe blood of Eldanesh. Throughout aeldari culture it had been an ill sign, aportentofdisasterevento thoseinCommorraghandtheoutcasts,asymbolsoingrained in the spirit-memory of his people that even reference in poetry or

representationinartbroughtacoldshudder.Heheardagaspand turned just in time toseeIyannaalmost faint.Altheniancaughttheseer,stoopingswiftlydespitehisimmenseframe.‘Poorsister,’saidYvraine,andtheVisarchrecalledhowthespiritseer’sfamilyhadbeenwipedoutduringtheill-namedBattleoftheRedMoon–notjustherkinbutthespiritsofherancestorseradicated.More and more Ynnari marched out of the heat haze, directed byMeliniel,dispersed to defensive positions around the gate-stone. Their disquiet wasevident,not just in theirwhispersandglances,but thehunchof shoulders, themannerinwhichtheyheldthemselvestaut.Melinielmoved to joinYvraineas theair about themonolithchurneddarkly,stuttering almost, a shadow played about the sands that had not been therebefore.Handsmovedtoweaponsandalleyesweredrawntothesputteringwebportal.They relaxed as more of the Ghost Hall cohort emerged. Their wraithbonebodiesshimmeredinthetransition.Gasps of surprise greeted them, as the dead-that-walk emerged from theshimmer,cladinformsnotunlikethosetheyhadwornwhenalive,butrenderedfrom psychoplastic. They were not alive, not flesh, but less like the abstractmannequins that had been fashioned for them by the bonesingers, into whichshellsYvraine’spowerhadnowpermanentlyboundtheirsouls.Faces, the sketchiest of expressions, danced across domed heads, and limbscladinaweaveofstrangeskinwereraised,fingerscladinnot-fleshwriggledinsurprisebeforeeyesthatwerenothingmorethandeepershadowsuponthecurveoftheirartificialskulls.Surprised whispers, exclamations of shock and joy sounded from the deadlegion,givenstrangevoicebytheirtransformation.Theylookedabout,blessedwith physical senses, many had not seen or heard as a mortal for severallifetimes.Through them strode the wraithnobles, banners fluttering at their backs,pennantsontheirgunbarrelsandhangingfromthehiltsofswords.Sharingthecelebrationoftheircompanies.Kelmonemerged,andlikeAlthenian,LadyFaenorith,FaristarDancebladeandthe other greater spirits, their bodies were unchanged. Kelmon quicklymarshalledtheexcitedwraithcompanies,urgingtheirleaderstomaintainsomesemblanceoforderdespitethisunusualturnofevents.Disciplinehadtobequicklyrestored,forintransformingtoanapproximation

of mortality the frailties of the living had also been returned. At Kelmon’sdirection the assembledHouses formed cohorts and squads,mingledwith theforcesofMeliniel toguardagainstwhateverotherunknownsmightarise fromtheremarkableworldinwhichtheyfoundthemselves.‘Icannotbelieve it,’saidYvraine,kneeling torunherslenderfingers throughthe fine blood-red grains by her feet. ‘Can it be true, that we walk uponFirstworld?’‘A version of it,’ Kelmon replied. ‘A facsimile, perhaps, or the world itselftransportedintoadifferentsphere.TheworldwaslostduringtheWarinHeaven,antiquityevenbeforetheFall.Giventhemeansbywhichwecamehere,itwasmoved,orfell,intothewebwaywhenthegodsclashed.’‘Or fell further.’ This disturbing conjecture came from Idraesci Dreamspear,whosteppedlightlyacrossthesands,histroupecloseuponhisheel.‘Thereareplacesoutsidethewebwaywherelostworldsmightsettle.’‘TheEye ofTerror,’ saidYvraine darkly, standing up. She scattered the sandfrom her palm and gazed about with narrowed eyes. ‘I had not thought, or Imighthavedelayed furtherourentry. It is fresh in thememory thatwebarelyescapedourlastjourneyintotheWombofDestruction.’‘Nothingiscertainbutthefadingofgloryandthetreacheryofourhearts,’saidDreamspear,claspingahandtohisbreastasthoughstruckthrough.‘Wheretrodthegodsthemselves,andthefirstdominionsbegan,’saidIyanna,who had recovered her composure after the shock of seeing the baleful redmoon.‘Whereitended,’laughedDreamspear.Hepirouetted,aflamboyantwaveofthehandencompassedthedesolationaroundthem.‘Thefirsttime,attheleast.Youknow,weareasorrypeople,solongofhistoryyetshortofmemory.Toloseoneempiremightbeconsideredunfortunate.Tolosetwo…carelessness.’‘Anabsence,’saidAlthenian,evenhisdeepvoicelostinthevastness,hisspirit-tonedissipatedintotheendlesswastes.‘Thatwhichwecameheretofind,whereisit?Thetombhall,ofKhaine’sfirstmurderedvictim,Eldanesh?’‘I do not desire to trek across an entireworld seeking it,’ saidYvraine. ‘Weshouldbringthroughtransportsand…’Shetrailedoffasanalmostimperceptibleshudderquiveredthroughthedunes.The Visarch felt something else, a brightness behind the eyes, the suddenquickeningofthepulse.Itwasasensationherememberedwell,wheninthepasthe had donned his war mask in the shrine of the Silvered Blade, or faced achallengerintheChambersoftheincubi.

Hisnostrilsfilledwiththescentofblood–anintoxicatingaromathatremindedhim of so many battles. The recollection flashed through him, a dizzyingmontage of slaughter and vitality, of life and death a blade’s width apart, ofdancingalongtheprecipicebetweenjoyanddespair.The souls within his armour – within him – writhed and contorted at thememories,sharingtheirowndeathsandtriumphsuntilthegroundwhirledaboutandthecrashofbattleranginhisears.Through the battle haze he saw the sands ahead piling up into an immensemound,andthenspillingaway,revealingpalestonepittedbyanageoferosion.From the depths of the sands the edifice surfaced, ruddy drifts cascadingbetweenpillarsandslidingfromtheshallowslopeofmany-tieredroofs.A fey light played about the domed summit of the building, burning blueagainst the scarlet sky, forming the shape of a rune in the air.A rune that allrecognisedimmediately.ThesigilofEldanesh,theFirst,FatheroftheAeldari.

CHAPTER30

THEWELLOFTHEDEAD

Yvrainegrinnedas the tomb revealed itself, three storeysofwindowlesswallssurrounded by a columned plaza, ringed about by shallow steps. A doorway,squareandunadorned,brokethesmoothnessofthelowerwall,beneathalintelinscribedwithalanguagesooldthatnonepresentcouldreadit.Herheart soaredat the thoughtofbeingsoclose toherprize.Shecould feelsomething powerful within, a force beyond nature harboured within plain-cutstone. The sand underfoot fell away, revealing a paved road between themonolithoftheportalandtheflightofstepsleadinguptothetomb,barelythreehundredpacesbetweenthem.Thehorizonhadchangedalso.No longerdesertunending, theirenvironshadresolvedintodarkrock,splitandsunderedmanytimesbycrevassesfromwhichtheflickeringlightofflameissued.Smogbubbledforthfromtarpitsheatedbythe raging earth below and towering mountains with flame-ripped summitsbelchedforthsulphurousbillowsofdarkness.Thebrighttrailsoflavadowntheirflankswrotebattleversesintheancientrunesoftheaeldari,eachflowanodetoconquest,asonnettotheloveofslaying.Yvraine barely registered the changes, her thoughts fixed upon her goal. Shestarted forwards, calling for her followers to advance. Sensing hesitation, sheturnedafterseveralsteps,wonderingwhatwasamiss.TheYnnari seemedparalysed, someof them frozen in contortions of ecstasyandhorror,othersstaringnumblyattheimpossiblyancientmausoleumthathadrisen from the sands. Some of them had glares of feral rage contorting theirfaces, threads of saliva hanging from their bared teeth. Many were shaking,tormented,fightingsomethingwithin,theirexpressionsveeringbetweenhunger

andterror,gruntsandmoansescapingtightlips.Thenot-deadseemedasbemusedasshe, turningthiswayandthat,observingthestrangeconniptionsandreactionsof their livingcomrades.Kelmonhurriedaway, striding into the dunes that flanked the road, his runes trailing behindaflamewithpower.‘Somethingstirs.Canyounotfeelthehotwind,Khaine’spresence?’Althenianasked,voiceoddlytaut,thewordssoundingasthoughforcedoutbetweengrittedteetheventhoughherequirednobreathtovocalisethem.‘Feelwhat?’Yvrainehadnot the least ideaofwhathe talkedabout, theonlyevidence that somethingwas amissbeing the actionsof those aroundher.Shewas the Emissary of Ynnead, and under the geas of theWhisperingGod shealoneof the livingwas immune to the siren call that sang in themindsof theothers.TheVisarchwas close at hand.Nothing could be seenof his facewithin hishelmbuthisentireposturespokeoftension,handclosetothehiltofAsu-varbutnotquitegrippingtheweapon, theslightestquiverof thefingertipsrevealingafarmoreviolentstrugglebeneaththesurface.

Theurgetokillwasnearoverwhelming.Laarian watched through a blood-red haze as Yvraine stepped closer, headcockedtoonesideinagitationandconfusion.Kinslayer.Thewordechoedaroundhisheadandvibratedalonghisnerves, settling intothecoreofhisbeing.Kinslayer.Itwas not an accusation– though itwas true – but a title.A rank earned.Awordofcongratulation.Praise.Kinslayer.Itwasaplea.Ademand.Acommand.Adesire…The Visarch’s fingers touched upon the crafted hilt of the Sword of SilentScreamsandtheinstantofconnectionsanginhisblood.Thecroneswordknewwell thesongthat liftedhim, thatguidedhimtopull it freefromitssheath.Indesiringtheknowledgeofherownblood,Morai-HeghadgivenupherhandtoKhaine, and the Bloody-Handed had cleaved it from her arm. The five digitsofthefategoddesshadbeenwroughtintotheKeysoftheDead,thecroneswordsthatwhenunitedandbloodedwouldopenthe SeventhWayandbringabouttheawakeningofYnnead.

TheWhisperingGodslumberedstill,Hisdreamingthoughtsnomatchfor thewhitehotfuryofKhainethatrushedthroughtheVisarch.Kinslayer.Thewordcrashedlikethunderandshooktheground,andittookamomentforLaarian to realise that thesoundhadnotbeen inhis thoughtsbut reverberateddowntheslabsoftheroad,echoingfromwheretheimmensedoorsofthegrave-templehadslammedopen.Somethinggleamedinthedarknesswithin,flickeringdullylikeaflamebehindsmokedglass.KINSLAYER!Laarianpulledbackhis sword, its edge lickedwith a flame thatmatched theburninginhisheart.HesawthecourseofbloodthroughthevesselsofYvraine,thevital fluid thatpulsedandflowedandkeptheralive.Sosimplea thing,soeasilyspilt,soquicklyended.The Visarch fought back. The Visarch, champion of Yvraine, warden ofYnnead, held off the blow, all the while the voice of Kaela Mensha Khainescreamedinhishead.

A spark appeared in the dark of the tomb gate.An ember, swiftly growing inbrightness, resolving into a blade of pure fire. It transfixed those that lookeduponit,includingYvraine,whosawintheripplingflameanendofworldsandthepowerofstarsdying.Herheadswamwiththethoughtofit,herbodyshookwithlusttowieldsuchaweapon,tounleashdestructionuntold.ThecoldbreathofYnneadquelledthefire,likeafrostonthenapeoftheneck,achillthatdousedtheardourofbloodthirstrousedbythecreaturethatsteppedforthfromEldanesh’srestingplace.LiketheavatarsofKhainetrappedintheheartsofthescatteredcraftworlds,thebeinghadfleshofmagmaandskinofpittediron.Itsfacewasamaskoffixedrage,eyesas twinchasmsinto thefierydepthsofangerunbound.Twocurlinghornsofshadowcurledupfromitsbrow,betweenthemburnedtheruneoftheBloody-Handed,odioussmoketrailingfromitlikeaknight’screst.Thisvolcanicbeingwasgirdedinarmourofpolishedbone,sculptedandfusedfromribandskull,vertebraeandclavicle,femurandsternum.Scratchedintotheivory-colourplateswereathousandrunes,eachasubtlevariationonthesymbolof the Bloody-Handed, the Thousand Names of Hate by which He becameknownduringtheWarinHeaven.Itraisedablackfistsheathedingore,theself-samecurseoftheBloody-HandlaiduponKhainebyAsuryanfortheslayingofEldanesh.Yetthishandwasnot

empty, a heart beatwithin, themortal organof the founder of the first aeldaridominions. Fingers of shadow closed about the pulsing heart and themortalsarraignedbeforetheinfernalbeastletoutcriesofpainandshock,asthoughtheirownbodieswerecrushedinthefiercegrip.TheWarshardwasitstitle,thatbenightedfragmentofthewargoddrawnnotbythe survivors of the aeldari fleeing in their craftworlds, but the most bitter,hatefulsliverofKhaineflungbacktothesiteofHismostinfamousmurder.AllthatsawtheapparitionofbrutaldeathunderstoodthattheylookedagainattheclosestthingtoKhaineincarnate,ofmurdergivenimmortalflesh.It lifted the blade and screams of terrorwere torn from themortal throats ofthosethatwitnessedit.AstheWarshardwasthemostmalevolentremainsoftheBloody-HandedOne, so it boreHismost infamousweapon.Anaris,knownastheSwordofVaul,theSplinterofSuns,theWidowmaker,theSpiteoftheSlain.ThesamebladethatendedthelifeofEldanesh,whosebloodstillhissedalongitsinsubstantialedge.Dreadswelledout from theWarshard,avisiblewindofwrath thatkickedupthesandandsweptovertheassembledYnnari.Overcomebygrief,theydroppedto their knees, or lifted hands to the air, letting weapons tumble from numbfingers.Agonisedhowlsrosetotheboilingcloudsabove,tearsofdespairfelltotheparchedground.

InMeliniel’sgripAhz-ashirbuckedandhissedasthoughheheldaserpentbyitstail,answeringtothesilentwarcryofAnaris.Theautarchstoodtallwhileothersaroundstumbledandflailed,silentwheretheysobbedandshouted.TheroarofKhainepoundedinhisears,theheatofbattlesearedhisbody,butheremainedplacid,nostrangertothebloodthirst.‘Stand strong.’ He did not bellow, but spoke the words calmly, using themessenger-waves to carry his voice across the host of the Ynnari. ‘Trust inyourselves,inthepowerofYnnead.’‘Autarch,’Kelmonreplied.‘Wemustattack.’The not-dead host advanced at a signal from the dead battleseer, formingsquadsandcompaniesabouttheirlordsandladies.Distort-scythesgleamedandheavyweaponsturnedtowardstheWarshard.NONESHALLSURVIVE!The pronouncement by Khaine’s dark soul sounded like the crash of tenthousandbladesstriking,theringofswordonarmour,theslamoftombdoors.Itwasgreetedby fresheruptionsacross the ringofvolcanoesaround the shrine-

tomb, their expulsions accompanied by the crash of thunder and flare oflightningintheruddycloudsthatcoveredthesky.YOUCANNOTDEFEATME.IAMSLAUGHTER,IAMCARNAGE.IAMWAR!The Warshard thrust Anaris towards the Ynnari, a pulse of crimson lightspringing fromthe flames.Where the fey illumination fell thespiritofKhaineboiled,settingintheheartsoftheafflicted.GutturalshoutstoretheskiesandtheKhaine-touchedbeattheirfistsuponthegroundandtheirchests.THEBLOODWILLFLOW!Thuscommanded, thosebathed in the terrible flamelightof theWidowmakerturned theirweaponsupon theirown, thewhisperofsplinter riflesandsighofshurikencatapultssettingtheairtremblingastheyopenedfireontheirunlivingcomrades.Thebattlelustspreadlikeadisease,passingfromthemindofonetothenext,abloodthirstcancerthattookCommorraghanandcraftworlderequally.Aspectwarriorssnarledandlaughedandbarkedinsanely,solongtheacolytesofKhaine,bloodydesiresrepressednowgivenfreerein.Theexarchsroaredandsnarled their praises to the Bloody-Handed as they bounded towards theirvictims.Wych and scourge, incubi and guardian turned upon each other in asuddenorgyofbloodletting,givingnothoughttotheirownsafetyorsurvival.The wraith-warriors defended themselves against their living attackers.Dimension-ripping whorls of distort-cannons and wraithcannons tore the air,ringed about with orange fire in this cursed place, their void-bound victimssuckedintotheburningheartofthecosmos.Firepikeshissed,reaperlauncherscrackledanddistort-scythesflared, thebarerockawashwithbloodandlitteredwith severed limbs, the fractured remnants of armoured wraithbodies and theglitterofscatteredspiritstones.Melinielran,dodgingthroughtheeruptingcataclysm,skirtingpastmeleesandthroughcrossfiresofsplinterandshuriken,intentuponthemonstrousavatarthatstooduponthethresholdofthetomb.

CHAPTER31

KHAINE’SBLOODYGIFT

Itwastheslightestofmovements,adropoftheshoulder,aslighttwistingofthefootthatbetrayedtheVisarch’sattack.Yvraine’sinstinctreactedbeforeshedid,throwing her aside as the Sword of Silent Screams parted the crest of herheaddress where a heartbeat before her skull had been. She rolled over theroadway,adistractingflurryofgownandtrail,thewarfanflickingouttocatchthe edge of Asu-var, not hard, but enough to send the tip of the Visarch’senchantedswordclatteringagainstthepaving.Sheregainedherfeet,SwordofSorrowsinhand,justintimetoparrythenextstrike, diverting it fromhermidriff. Shemovedwith the impact, cartwheelingsideways, her foot crashing against the chin of theVisarch’s helmmid-wheel.She swept for his legs but he leapt over her kick, plunging the sword downtowardsherchestashelanded.Forcedbackastep,YvrainedeflectedtwomoreattacksuntilAlorynispounced, to landon the thick fur capeofher foe, clawsscratchingfrenziedlyacrosshishelm.Heflungoutahand,tossingthecreatureasidewithoutthought.

Self-loathing fuelled Laarian’s blows as he thrust his sword at Yvraine’s gut,lusting to see the entrailswithin spilt before the lord ofmurder’s incarnation.Thefaceofthecreaturechurnedinhisvision,thesamethathadgloweredathimfromthementalreflectionofhiswarmask,thathadadornedtheshadowsofhisincubi shrine.Theghostof thebloodthirst thathadhauntedhis life tookover,directingaviciousslashatYvraine’sshoulder, turnedasidebythebladededgeofherwarfan.Youareholdingback.

The Warshard’s admonition burned through him, setting agonising splintersrippling through his limbs. The pain spurred him on, fear turned to anger,desiringtheecstasyofreleasethatwouldcomewithhismistress’death.In theshadowsofhismind,inthedepthsbeyondthehotfireofhisrage,theinventionknown as the Visarch scrabbled to break free of the net of dread that held itdown.Laarianpusheditsmewlingasideandtookuphisswordtwo-handed,switchingstyle mid-strike. His next blow sent Yvraine reeling, retreating several pacesundertheforceofhisattack.Triumphfillinghislimbswithrenewedvigour,headvancedafterher,bladepointedathisprey.

Meliniel defendedhimself, usinghis spear toward away the flurries of blowsaimedathimbythoseundertheswayoftheWarshard’scurse.Hedidnotstrikeback, save to trip or disable, never to kill. Itwas not simply compassion thatguidedhisfighting technique.Allaboutwashedthehatredandblood-desireofKhaine,anditwaswithinhimalso,justbelowthesurface.Toslaynow,intheheart of the battle-furnace, would be another offering to the war god, andMelinielwasnotsureifhecouldresistthepowerthatwouldunleash.DeliberaterestraintwasanathematotheBloody-HandedOne,theonlydefencehehadagainsttheanarchythatreignedacrosstherockybattlefield.He broke away from the generalmelee, heading towards the tomb.Atop thesteptheWarshardnoticedhisapproachandbrandishedAnaris,astreamoffireerupting from the sword to splash across the armour of the autarch.Melinielpushedon into the inferno, teethgritted against theprojected ireofKhaine asmuch the unceasing ferocity and heat of the avatar’s assault. Like a knight oflegenddaring thedragonfireofhis foe,Melinielsteppedwithpurpose, forcinghimselfintothenear-fatalheat.The cessation of the attack was as startling as its initiation.Meliniel almoststumbled,grippedbycoldintheabsenceofthefire-fury.Hisvisionwasedgedwithwhitecloud,castwiththeyellowoftheflames,eventhefiltersofhishelmyet to recover from thebrightness thathadengulfedhim.Blinking,he clearedhis vision in time to see the Warshard set forth from the death-shrine ofEldanesh.Itbellowed,voicemouthingword-shapes,but toMeliniel’searsall thatcamewas a rush of angry sound, not a single word of it distinguishable from theincoherentrageofawrongedchildortheroarofahuntingbeast.Swordofflameinhand, theWarshardboundedforwards,poundingdownthesteps,sparksand

rocksplintersflaringwhereittrodonthedarkstone.Meliniel set himself, spear in both hands, awaiting themonster’s charge, forchargeitmust,acreatureofsuchmurderousrage.Beingrightmadeitnoeasiertostandhisgroundastheincarnation,threetimeshis height, ran over the bare earth, each footfall a drumbeat call to war, theflamesandshadowsofitsbodytrailinginthespeedofitsattack.Bonearmourflashedinthelightoftheflickeringstormabove,theThousandNamesofHatewritincurlsofblackfire.TheWarshardwas less thanadozengigantic stridesaway. Itsdeadgazewasfixed upon the autarch, the Widowmaker raised aloft for a terrible strike.Melinielinhaledslowly,pickinghisspot,channellinghisspiritintotheblowhewouldunleash.Hislastblow,hereasoned.TherewasnomeansbywhichhecouldstoptheSwordofVaul,thathadslainthegreatestaeldariheroesandlaidlowdemigodsoflegend.Hegavenothoughttodefendinghimself,andallthoughttothestrikehewouldmake.Fuelledbytheknowledgeofhisinevitableandimpendingdeath,Melinielwasmore awake than he had ever been. Every sense strained for a weakness, anopening in the bone armour, the slightest dimming of flame or paling ofshadowformthatbetrayedavulnerability.Hismindraced,analysing,sweepingthebodyofhisfoeinitsquestforsomethingtoattack.Allelsefadedtonothing,thedinofhiswarriorsfallinguponeachotherandthearmyofthedead,theblastof fusionguns,whineof shurikenand thehate-filledcries from those thathadpreviouslyswornkinshiptooneanother.Fivepacesdistant,theWarshardstartedtoswingitsimmortalblade.Meliniel sawanopeningbeneath the arm,wherenoarmourcovered thegap,and calculated the angle atwhich a spear thrustwould penetrate sideways upintothethroat.Anassumptionbasedonfightingmortalfoes,ithastobesaid,andthereforenoguaranteeofslayingtheimmortalthatboredownonhim.Anassumptionnevertested,forevenashestartedtoadjusthisstride,aslenderbeamofblueenergyeruptedpasthim,slammingintothechestoftheWarshard.Bonesplinteredandburnedwhilegod-fleshironspatteredindropletsoffire.DarknessswathedMelinielasashadowpassedoverhim.Somethingalmostaslarge as the Warshard hurtled past with the speed and strength of a fallingmeteor,aflashofyellowandblue.Abladesheathedinblacklightningrose tomeet Anaris, a flare of soul-power coursing from its wielder through the

wraithsword.Theblowfellaside,slashinghotairandnothingmore.Momentum carrying him onwards, Althenian slammed bodily into theWarshard,wraithboneframecrashingintobone-wroughtplatewithanimpactasthunderousasthestorm-clapsthatsurgedacrossthebattlefield.

CHAPTER32

KINSLAYER

TheWarshardwasavacuum,ableakhole in realitywherepurehatehad tornbetween realms. To the wraith-sight of Althenian it was a maelstrom ofblackness, sucking in every shredof rage, everyparticleofhate andhorror. ItcastalongshadowacrosstheWelloftheDeadandwherethatcursedumbrafell,themindsofmortalswere twisted, filledwitha thirst forviolenceandmurderlikenothingofmortalorigin.Asthewraithlordstrucktheincarnationofthisimmortalchasmofhate,hefeltthehotbladesofitswrathpiercingbothbodyandsoul.Totouchsuchafellthingwastoinviteitscancerousabhorrenceintooneself.BarbsoffiresplitopenhismindevenasthefirebrandAnarisslammedagainsttheshellofhistorso,carvingopenwraithboneasthoughitweresimplysoftmortalflesh.Abloody fistpounded into theopenwoundandAlthenian felthimself lifted,evenasheslasheddownattheleeringfaceofshadowandflame,layingtheedgeof his wraithblade against the skull and jaw of the immortal. Removed fromphysicalsensation, theformerexarchcarednothingfor thedamagewrought tohis frame, nor for the deafening bellow of rage unleashed as the Warshardheaved thewraithlordbodily through theair.That shout resonated through thespirit-mire, daggers of hateful intent that left burningwelts across the soul ofAlthenian.He crashed to the ground amid splintering rock and splitting wraithbone.Tumbling,anarmcameaway,andhisbrightlancewithit,whileoverandoverherolled.Heputoutsteel-strongfingersandskidded toastop, raking furrows inthedarkstone.Althenianlaystillforamoment,halftwisted,tryingtomarrythewhirlingremnantsofhisphysicalbeingwiththeshout-addledperegrinationsof

hisspirit.MindandbodycametogetherjustintimetoseetheWarshardbearingdownonMelinielagain.If theWarshard was a self-consuming storm of darkness, the autarch was agleamingspark.Ghostlightrippledfromhisspirit, thetouchoftheWhisperingGod, the same that glowedacross the aether, the illuminationof thedead thatburnedfromthewarriorsoftheGhostHalls.ThoughstilllivinghewasentirelyofYnnead,thepeaceofhissoulthewatertotheWarshard’sfire.Althenian hauled himself up, wraithsword in hand. He raised the blade inchallenge, thewarcrythat issuedfromhismouthlessbodyscouringacross thespiritrealmasitsechoestrembledthroughthephysicalplane.Contempt flared from Khaine’s anointed slayer, but it turned all the same,AnarisdirectedtowardsAlthenianinanswertothewraithlord.Melinielcameonbehind it, to be met with a backhanded sweep of its blood-crusted hand thatsnapped his heirloom spear and sent him tumbling painfully across the rock.Intent upon Althenian, the Warshard advanced again, and the two met withshriekingblades.ThewraithswordshatteredbeneaththecuttingedgeofAnaris,shardsofspirit-infused crystal slashing into the dome of Althenian’s head. The blow of theWarshardcontinued,thetipcarvingadeepfurrowintothewraithlord’sshoulder,almostseveringhisremainingarm.Theavatar’sfistcrashedintohischestagain.Burningbloodfrothedintotheinjury,lavasearingthroughinternalsystemsandspirit-crystalsinawelterofsteamandmeltingwraithbone.Pain the likes the spirit had never known scorched through him even as hisbody disintegrated into falling flecks of charred wraithbone and showeringmoltendroplets.Althenianscreamed,asoundhehadnotutteredinlife,notevenathisdeath.

Yvrainerealisedswiftlythatshewasgoingtodie.Ittookallofherspeed,guileand skill to keep at bay the relentless attacks of her former tutor, who in aninstant could change from butchering, cleaving blows to the most elegantfootworkandswordplay,dependentuponwhichofhismanysoulsheallowedtocometothefore.Pirouettingandducking,leapingandparrying,Yvraineneededonly the slightest cut from the Sword of Sorrows to penetrate his baroquearmour,butwascertain thatnosuchblowwouldever land.Though it seemedthe Visarch gave no thought for his defence, so precise and efficient was hisattack that it allowed no opportunity to strike. The instant Yvraine tried to

manoeuvreforariposteherecognisedherintent,switchedstanceorsword-hand,andattackedagainwithcompletelydifferenttechnique.Allwas falling to ruin about her. The air seethedwith the escaping souls ofdyingYnnariandbrokenspiritstones.Lamentingtheirdemise,wailingthelastthoughtsthathadpassedthroughtheminlife,thewaywardghostslappedagainsther,drawntoYnnead’s power.ThroughitallcoursedariveroffirefromtheWarshard,burningintoeverysoulittouched,consumingthedeadandignitingthepassionoftheliving.Avortexofheatandhate,Khaine’s fragment fedon theunfoldingslaughter itself,evenasYvrainetriedtodrawonthepoweroftheescapinglifestuff.She rolled beneath a swinging attack, flailing with her gown to distract theVisarch as she regained her feet. Yvraine’s warfan fluttered and wavered,constantlymovinglikeadartingwasp,feigningattackwhilesheretreatedastepmore.AlwaystheVisarchadvanced,nevergivingground,alwaysgaining.Eachtime she dodged or sidestepped, Yvraine was aware that she was beingmanoeuvred across the flat paving towards the more uneven ground of thesolidified lava that flanked the road. There, just a chance slip would see herdoomed.TheOpenerof theSeventhWayhadnot thoughtherself immortal,not in theage-worn sense. She flowed with the power of Ynnead, set aside from theprecipiceoflifeanddeathtowalkadifferentpath.Watchingthebladeofherfoeflash towards her, eluding its deadly touch by a hair’s breadth, she had neverconsideredtreacherybyherchampiontobeapossibility.Thatitwouldendherseemedfaintlyridiculous,almostinsulting.Therewasnothingtobedonethough.ExcepttotrustinYnnead.ShecouldseethefireofKhaineburningintheheartoftheVisarch,rekindledbytheproximityoftheWarshard,givenfreshlifeafteranagedormant.AllthewhilethatitburnedtheVisarchwouldbeKhaine’screatureagain.ThesoulsofYnnead’s chosen shrieked their abhorrence of theBloody-Handed’s servant astheywhirledabouthim,buthefoughtonblindtotheirapprobation.Onlyonepowercouldextinguishthatfire,butitwasbeyondYvraine’sreach.Yvrainemovedherhandaside as theVisarch’snextblow seared towardsherbreast. The edge ofAsu-var bit deep through gown and the runesuit beneath,hewingintohermortalflesh.Therewas no pain.Ynnead had inured her to such consideration. But bloodflowed freely, gushing from her wounded flank to stain her gown crimson,

puddlingandspatteringonthedarkroad.Shefellbackwards,faninonehand,theSwordofSorrowsstillheldtightlyinthe other, a fountain of her life fluid arcing from a severed artery as shecollapsed.Yvrainedidnotfeelthegroundasshehit.AllwasconsumedbytheicygripofYnnead,dullingsoundandsight,touchandtaste,sothatitseemedasthoughshelandedonabedofwelcomingpyre-ash.Yvraine stared at the storm-wracked skies, and in the roiling clouds saw thefaceofhergod.

Stilldazed,Meliniel tried to rise,butabroken leg failedbeneathhim, leavinghimclutching thewoundedlimbandcursing.HorrorgrippedtheautarchashesawthebodyofAltheniantornapartfromwithin,plumesoffiredetonatinglikeartilleryshells.HeheardawildshriekbehindhimandrolledovertoseeIyannasprintingthroughthemorassofembattledwarriors.ComingupbesidehimshehurledtheSpearofTeuthlaslikeajavelin.TheeyesofbothfolloweditsarcingcoursetowardsthebackoftheWarshard.Meliniel’s chest clutched tight about his heart, expecting the immortal to turnandbatawaytheweaponatanyinstant.Hisfearswereunfounded.Thewhite-firedtipofIyanna’sspearstruckKhaine’smurderoussonin thebackof theneck,abovetherimof thebonecuirass.Theimpactpitchedthemonstrousfighterforwards,sendingittoonekneeasmagmaspumedlikearterialflow.

CHAPTER33

YNNEAD’SCOLDEMBRACE

TheswordslippedfromLaarian’sgripevenasthefirstbloodcoloureditsblade.Yvrainefellawayfromhimasthoughoveraprecipice,untilherealisedhewasretreating,staggeringbackfromher,theshockofwhathehaddoneascrushingasaphysicalblow.Herexpressionwasserene,hauntinginitspeacefulness,hereyeslockedtohisforaheartbeat.Shebouncedlikeadiscardeddoll,blood-wettedcourtlygarbmouldedtobodyand thigh,a riverofcrimsonseepingoutover thedarkground.TheVisarch–returnednowthatLaarianhadbeensated–stareddownatwhathisangerhadwrought.Allwentstill.Notthebattle,forthatstillragedwithoutpause,butinthecleftbetween life and death, the spirit world occupied by the shades of the dying,Yvraine’s demise rippled out like a thunderous silence. No more the wailingspirits.Nomore the swirling revenants.Nomore the contorted agonies of thesevered. Pregnant with unreleased potential, the psychic plane shuddered, asingle violent convulsion that exploded out of Yvraine’s body as the SeventhWayopenedtoreleasethedeadheldwithin.TheYncarne flooded into theWell of theDead, birthcry shrieking in the earandthemind.ItsdiaphanousformsweptupthroughYvraine,liftingherwithitasitrose,holdingherclosetoitschestlikeagrotesquefathercomfortingahurtchild.UptheYncarnerose,itsghostlightpushingbackthestormclouds,whitelightning leaping from its ascending body in answer to the scarlet bolts thatcrasheddown.Ahowlofgriefswampedthebattlefield,soforlornthateverylivingsoulwas

turnedbyit, theirragesuddenlyforgotten, theirweaponshanginglimpintheirhands,even in the throesofkilling,alleyesdrawn to thepale,beautiful,half-daemonicfigurethatsoaredabovethem.CradlingYvraine’shead,silvertearsfellfromtheYncarne’seyes,coatingherwithashimmeringgownwovenfromYnnead’sloss.Whitetrailsofspiritpowerstreamed behind them as the Yncarne circled, clawed fingers holding tightagainstfaceandwaistofthefallenOpeneroftheSeventhWay.Asabirdkeepermightthrowuponeofhischargestoaiditintakingflight,theYncarne cast Yvraine away. She fell, a spark against the clouds, armsoutstretched,fanandswordstillinhand.Tethersofpowerfollowedher,bindingherplungingformtotheYncarne.TheavatarofYnnead’sshapeunravelled,becomingtendrilsofwhitefirethatpulsedalongtheconnection,flowingintothecorpseofitssummoner.TheVisarchfeltratherthansawlifeburstforthagain, thoughheimaginedhesawclosedeyesopeningwideastheOpeneroftheSeventhWayreturnedtothemortal plane.Like awhite thunderbolt she fell, and his eyewas drawn to theground beneath,where theWarshard crouchedwounded on the black earth, aspearprotrudingfromitsback.

Yvrainelaughedasshedived.Shehadbelievedandshehadbeenrewarded.Thepower of the Whispering God infused her, was part of her, as she swoopedtowardsthecrippledfigureofshadowandfirebelow.Shestrucklikeameteor,theSwordofSorrowsarrowedbeforeher,partingtheWarshard’sheadfromitsshoulderswitheffortlessgrace.Landing, the speed of her descent dissipated by an explosion of white fire,Yvraine turned in time to see theWarshard dying. Its body seized, solidifyinglike cooling iron, all shadowexposed to the light of the fire that hadbeen setwithin it by the vengeance of Ynnead. A rust-like powder crept across itssolidifying remains, driedblood that encased it from severedneck to toe.Theruddy crust flaked away as though in awind, stripping theWarshard down tonothing, a pile of crimson ash that turned to an even finer powder and thendisappeared.

CHAPTER34

THEHEARTOFELDANESH

TheWelloftheDeadachedwithfunerealsolemnity.Allsoundwasmuted;sobsof guilt, murmurs of disbelief, whispers of heartfelt apology. The survivorslookedupon thecarnage theyhadwroughtandcouldnotcomprehend.FullyathirdoftheYnnarithathadpassedthroughthegatelaybloodiedanddeaduponthe unforgiving rock, a similar number of the Ghost Halls vanquished by theinsanityunleashedbytheWarshard.Some stumbled through the flesh-wreckage, seeking favoured companions,calling softly the names of those they sought. Many sat down, numbed withshock, unblinking stares fixed upon the horizon, seeing only blood-riddledsnatchesofrememberedslaughter.Iyanna retrieved the Spear of Teuthlas fromwhere it lay. She picked up theancientweapon,noting that the tipwasnocked, a splinterof thebladebrokenaway.Thepricetopayforthedeathofawargod’savatar.‘I’msorry.’She turned at Meliniel’s apology, confused. The autarch sat with a legoutstretched,grippingthethigh.Shesawthepaininhispostureandguessedthecause.‘Sorryforwhat?Youdidallyoucould.’Kneelingbesidehim,shelaidahandon his leg. Spirit energy slipped through her fingers, igniting the acceleratedhealing processes hidden deep inside the core of every aeldari. Coaxing hisnervoussystemintoaburstoflife,bloodflowingfromhisquickeningheart,sheguidedhisbodytobeginknittingbrokenbone,replenishinglostcells.‘Besides,youdidnotfail.’Whenshewasdone,helpinghimgingerlytohisfeetwithahand,Iyannastrode

overtothetwistedremainsofAlthenian’swraithbody.Itlookedgrotesque,likesplayedribsdecoratedwithstringsofribbonedorgans,butsheknewtherewasnothing of flesh in it, nothing of the former exarch was suffering. Inside themutilatedremainsshecouldfeelthesteadypulseofaspiritstone,itsbeatalmostadmonishment.Shereachedin,pushingthroughthegoreofartificialfluidsandfrayedcrystalarteriestopluckfreethegemhousingthesoulofAlthenian.Iassume,givenwearebothstillhere,thatwewon?‘Yes. I threw a spear into its spine andYvraine died so that the spirit of theYncarnecouldpossessheranddestroyit.’Quite a feat. The stone warmed in her palm. I am glad I could provide…distraction…‘YousavedMeliniel,thatwasnosmallmatter.’Iamglad.WhathappenedtotheVisarch?Yousawhim?Iyanna looked around and saw the crimson-armoured warrior standing apartfromeveryoneelse, theSwordofSilentScreamsheldathis side,helm turnedaway.‘Itwasnothisfault.’Probably.ButwillYvrainethinkthesame,ofhisdeed?Iyanna shrugged and searched the chaos for her sister-of-the-dead. She spiedYvrainemovingthroughherpeople,thesilverlightofherpresencefallinguponthe living and dead alike. Those close to the embrace ofYnneadwere saved,spiritsreturnedtotheirbodiesbeforethelinkwassevered.Alorynis,seemingnoworse for his rough handling at the fist of Yvraine’s champion, scamperedbehind, bounding fromcorpse to corpse, stepping lightly over the ruins of thefallenwraithguardandwraithblades.Intime,theOpeneroftheSeventhWayturnedinthedirectionoftheVisarch.IyannawatchedYvraineapproachherwarden,asparkofwhitefireconfrontingadroplet of blood. She knew not what passed between them, but the Visarchsagged,almostfallingtothefloor.ItwasYvraine that caughthim this time,pushinghim tohis feet.SomethingelsewassaidandtheVisarchnodded.Hetookuphisbladeinbothhands,tiptotheground,andknelt,bowinghisheadalmosttothefeetofYvraine.

While thewoundedwere removedback through thegateand thewraithnoblesmusteredtheirdeadhosts,andthedisembodiedspirits oftheshatteredarmy,theleadersof theYnnarigatheredon thestepsbeforeEldanesh’s tomb.Thedoors

wereopen,aconstantyellowlightwithin,thoughnothingofthecontentscouldbeseenfromthisdistance.They remained silent, but Yvraine took a step, the Visarch just to her right,Iyanna andMeliniel on the left.With a hiss, Alorynis held back, refusing toascend.Thequartetstoppedagainatthethreshold,forbeyondthedoortheycouldseeablacksarcophagus,toppedwithwhitemarblecarvedintotheeffigyofafigure.Theypartedastheyentered,theirfootfallssoundingharshandloudinthesacredchamber,circlingaroundthetombwithin.Above,theceilingwasdecoratedwithastar-filledvoid,theconstellationsofthenightEldaneshwasslain,andthroughanopeningtheredmoonstillshone,castingaruddyglowthroughalensuponthechestoftheeffigy,whereAnarishadcutthefleshoftheFirstborn.Therewas,at least inplainsight,nosignofaweapon, sacredcroneswordorotherwise.Yvrainesighed.‘IamloathtodisturbthetombofEldanesh.Deathandthedeadhavebeenmycompanionsforalongtime,butevenformethereisaplaceintowhichIwouldnotventurefreely.’‘Idonotbelieveheisburiedwithit,’agreedIyanna.SheglancedattheswordinYvraine’shand,andtoitscompanionheldbytheVisarch.‘Ifeelnopresence,nothingakintothecoldauraoftheKeysoftheDeadalreadydiscovered.’Nonewishedtosayit,butitseemedthattheirquesthadfailed.Worse,thatthehundredsthathadperishedhaddonesofornothing.Yvrainefoundtheideahardtobear,butheldbacktheangerthatthreatenedtobubble forth.Had shenot servedYnneadwell?Givenher life,metaphoricallyand,thatveryday,literally?Wasshetoeverroamthecosmosseekingthemeresthintofasacredtreasure,abaubledangledbymythandnothingmore?‘Thereissomethingelse,’saidMeliniel,steppingclosertothetomb.Yvraine saw nothing and, judging by their reactions, nor did the others. ButMelinielleanedacrossthetombeffigy,hisfingerspassingintotheredlightfromabove. When he withdrew his hand, it clutched a large ruby, shaped in athousand facets as a droplet. He lifted it up and the light of the red moonsparkledfromitsedges.Causingalltostart,thedropletaudiblygaveabeat,pulsingredfromitsdepth.Melinielshuddered,faceplateofhishelmbathedinthescarletglow.‘TheHeartofEldanesh,’hewhispered,thewordsspokenasthoughinatrance.‘Formedofhisblood,ofhissacrificeforusall.’

Hestraightenedandlookedaroundattheothers,comingtohissenses.‘I saw him…’ The words choked in his throat but he continued. ‘Just afragment,apassingglimpse.Beautyincarnate,aspiritsopure.Andhismurder.Sofoul,sohate-filled.’Heturnedthedropletleftandright,examiningitmoreclosely.‘Doesit…doanything?’askedtheVisarch.‘I think it does,’ replied the autarch. He turned back to the door and theyfollowedhimoutontothetopofthesteps.‘Stepbackalittle.’Theydidasheasked,retreatingadozenorsopaces.MelinielheldtheHeartofEldanesh tohischestplate, justnext tohisownheart.Frondsof red light likeprismaticbloodcrawledthroughhisfingersandontothecurveofhisarmour.Hetookastumblingstepback,releasinghishold,thegemstoneheldinplacebyitsownpower.The light spread, growing like a second skin over the autarch, flashingwithorangeandyellow,asthoughhidingflamejustoutofview.Withaconvulsiveshout,armsthrustoutwards,Melinielimmolated.Blackandcrimsonfireengulfinghisbody.Inaheartbeathestretched,contorted,fleshandbloodreplacedwithfireandshadow,psychoplastictransformedintorune-etchedbone.FlamingAnarisinhand,theWarshardstoodwhereMelinielhadbeen.Do not strike! The voice was the iron-echo of Khaine’s most murderousfragment,buttheintonationwaswhollyMeliniel’s.Thewordssoundedintheirthoughts, the faceofKhaine’s sonpermanently fixed ina terrifying snarl.Thefire-wreathedcreatureheldupablood-slickedhand,turningitonewayandtheotherasitexaminedthedigits,andthenmoveditsattentiontotheWidowmakerinitsgrasp.ItlookeddownatYvraine,deadembersforeyes.Even gods die, and their souls belong to Ynnead, it said. Through you, theWarshard has been Reborn. It choseme,who resisted its calls for so long. Itspeaks tome, inside,andsays itwill servewherebefore ithadonlyslain.Youaretogivemeanewname.Pureheart.MelinielPureheart,AvengerofEldanesh.The apparition shuddered again, flaking away as it had donewhen struck byYvraine, a swirl of soot and smoke and heat vapour, until Meliniel was leftstanding in its place.The jewel had burned into him, through armoured plate,fleshandbone,andsatpulsingwherehishearthadbeen.Hetookoffhishelm,freeinglongblackhair,hischeekmarkedwiththesigilofBiel-tan.Melinielsmiled.

‘Andmybladeremainsyours,andeverwill.’Yvrainelookedatthetransformedautarch,andtheVisarch,spiritseerandotheroutsiders and outcasts gathered about.Her eye roamed to the host that passedback towards the shimmering portal, of every craftworld and kabal and none,and of the Ghost Halls and wild rider clans and every disparate realm andkindredof theaeldari;andshethoughtof theotherancientgatesonZaisuthra,thehiddenrealmsandtreasuresthatmightliebeyond.In time, shewould find the cronesword,when fate and the godswere ready.Untilthen,thiswasherpurpose.Toleadherpeople.TobeYnnead’semissarytoguidetheReborntotheirfutureandsavetheaeldarifromtheirdoom.

ABOUTTHEAUTHOR

GavThorpeistheauthoroftheHorusHeresynovelsDeliveranceLost,AngelsofCalibanandCorax,aswellasthenovellaTheLion,which

formedpartoftheNewYorkTimesbestsellingcollectionThePrimarchs,aswellasseveralaudiodramasincludingthebestsellingRaven’sFlightandTheThirteenthWolf.HehaswrittenmanynovelsforWarhammer40,000,includingRiseoftheYnnari:GhostWarrior,JainZar:TheStormofSilenceandAsurmen:HandofAsuryan.HealsowrotethePathoftheEldarandLegacyofCalibantrilogies,andtwovolumesinTheBeastArisesseries.ForWarhammer,GavhaspennedtheEndTimesnovelTheCurseofKhaine,theTimeofLegendstrilogy,TheSundering,andmuchmore

besides.In2017,GavwasawardedtheDavidGemmellLegendawardforhisAgeofSigmarnovelWarbeast.HelivesandworksinNottingham.

AnextractfromJainZar–TheStormofSilence.

Thesilencechokedher.Itcrowdeddownfromnear-emptybenchesthathadonceheldthousandsbayingforblood.Itwashedoverwhitesandsstainedred.Fromtheopenroofofthearenasilencepoureddownfromaskythecolourofanoldbruise.Hotandstifling,herlionmaskwastightagainstherface.Thesmelloffreshbloodinhernostrils.Faraethil turned her head left and right as she stepped out into the flickeringlight.Hershadowdancedcrazilyasthefloodlightsfelldimandsurgedbackintobrightnesswithsputtersandsparks.Liallathwasdeadonthesands.Herbodywasentwinedwiththatofthebeastshehadfaced,spearthroughitschest,herbackandneckaraggedmessofskinflapsandtornflesh.Faraethil’sgazemovedpastanduptothestands.There were two dozen figures beyond the wall of the large killing ground,dwarfed by the amphitheatre of death that rose up around them. Half wereguards,cracklingblackstavesintheirhands.Therestwereleeringcroniesofthearena’ssolesurvivingowner,theMasteroftheBlood-dance.Hereyeturnedtotheshadow-shroudedthronethatoverlookedthearena.Tworobe-swathed attendants held ornately laced parasol-fans over their patron,thoughthesunhadnotburnedfornearlyayearsincetheterrifyingapocalypsethathadslainsomanyoftheirfelloweldar.Beneaththisfeatherycoveralonefigure sat, pale fingers gripping the arms of a chair carved from the bones offallen gladiatrices. Their skulls formed a stool for feet booted in supple blackhide.OftheMasteroftheBlood-dance’sfacenothingcouldbeseenexceptthediamondglimmerofartificialeyes.Eyesthatmissednothing.FaraethilraisedherweaponsinsalutetotheMaster.Inherrighthandathree-bladedthrowingtriskele, inher lefta long-bladedpolearm.Shewasnakedbutfor a slatted kilt, the sheath of plated armour down her left arm and a helmthroughthe topofwhichflowedhermaneofwhiteandblacklikeacrest.Her

pale flesh was marked with scars, slender lines of darker pink. Before thecataclysm itwould have been easy to have suchmarks removed, but she hadrefused.Theblemisheswereherkeepsake,eachstrokeareminderofanattackshehadfailedtostop,amistakemade,abrushwithdeath.ShereceivednoacknowledgementfromtheMaster–notsincethecataclysm–andinsteadsheturnedherattentiontothegateattheoppositeendofthegore-stained sands. What threat was concealed in the darkness? What foe, whatcreaturehadtheMasteroftheBlood-dancechosenforherthistime?Aquintetof shambolic figures stumbled into the fractured light,blinkingandcrying, prodded on by the staves of their two escorts. Their cuirasses andvambraces fitted poorly, jag-bladed spears and serrated swords held slackly inbruisedhands.FearfuleyesroamedthearenabeforefixingonFaraethil.Dregsfromtheremainsofthecity.Notwarriors,notevenbloodcultistsorthebody-shaped. Sad, desperate survivors half dead from malnourishment. Nochallengeatall.She looked again at the Master, her scowl hidden behind her mask but heraggravationobviousallthesame.Therewasnoresponsefromherlord.Realisationtrickledintoherthoughts.Hewasnolongerinterestedinthefight,onlythekill.Theattentionwasallonher.Executioner,notcombatant.Shehadbecomeadisplaypiece,aplaythingthattheMasterwouldturnonandwatchandthenputawayagainwhenhewasbored.ItsickenedFaraethil.Swallowingherdisgust,shelookedattheunfortunatesthathadbeenherdedinfortheMaster’spleasure.Movingmeat,nothingmore.Likebaitdangledintoapoolsothatonecouldwatchawolfshark’sattack.Shewasacaptive,ananimalinacage,performingtricksforherowner.Angerexplodedthroughherbody.Inamomentshespedacrossthesands,barefeet leaving only the slightest trail. Her hands moved and the triskele flew,slashing the throats of the closest two foes before spinning back to her grip.EvenastheirbodiestoppledFaraethilwasamongsttheothers.They clumsily swung their swords and thrust their spears. Jagged weaponsparted empty air. Her blade wove in three wide loops, near-simultaneouslydecapitatingandslicingthelegsfromtwoofherenemies.Leapingthroughthesprayof blood, heart hammering, rageburning, she fell upon the last pieceofmeat.Shediscardedherweaponstothefreshlysoakedsandsandusedherbarehands,splitting,breaking,turningalivingbeingintoabrokencarcass,gruntingandhowlingasshedidso.

Spatteredheadtofoot,rivuletsofbloodstreamingacrossherskin,shesteppedback,panting, limbs trembling.Everythingwaswhite-hotandbright fora fewmoments.Whenclarityreturned,theguardshadalreadystartedtodragawaythepiecesofherenemies.Shelookedatthesplayoflimbsandorgansontheground,andwhereshemighthaveseenbeautyintherandomarrangement,todayshesawonlyabloodymess.Theragewasstill there,unsatisfiedby theslaughter,swimminginhergutandburninginherchest.Herheadspun,herlungstight,unabletotakeadeepbreathinsidehercloyingmask.Whatwasdifferent?Notenemies.Victims.Thiswasnotcombat,itwasmurder.Sherippedoffthehelmandtosseditaway.Itsgildedleoninefacestaredaccusinglyatherfromthereddenedsand.There was movement in the shadow of the throne. One of the Master’sattendantscalledouttoFaraethil.‘Putonyourmask,bloodyone.’She ignored the command. Bloodstained fingers worked the clasps of herarmour.Sheshruggedandletthesegmentedplatesfallawayfromherarm.‘Thedancerdoesnotdisarminthearena.’Theadmonitionwasdeliveredwithtestyimpatienceratherthananger.‘Thedancerhasnotbeendismissed.’Faraethilshookoutherhair,andmorescarletdropletsfell to thesandaroundher.Shesawtheshadowoftheclosestguardapproachingandheardthecrackleofhisstaffactivated.Faraethil turned, slowly, hands held away from her body as thoughsurrendering. The guard relaxed, lowering his staff a fraction. The gladiatrixtook a step and kicked. The heel of her foot connectedwith the other’s chin,snappingbackhisheadwithaloudcrackofbreakingbones.Sheranasshoutsofangerechoedaroundthenear-emptyarena.Thefirstguardhadbeentakenbysurprisebutshecouldnotoverpowerthemall,evenhadshekeptherarmourandweapons.Speedwasherally,notstrength.Faraethil vaulted effortlessly to the top of the encirclingwall. A guard leaptdownthestepstowardsher.Sheduckedthetipofhisstaffanddivedpast,torolltoherfeetbehindhim.Shefoughttheurgetostrike.Anydelaycouldbefatal.Even as he turned shewas already sprintingup the steep incline towards thearchofochredaylightatthesummitofthesteps.

Ahotbreezetouchedherskinasshespedout into theconcoursesurroundingtheamphitheatre.Thoughshehadnoideawhereshewasgoing–hadknownnothingoutsideofthearenasincethecataclysm–asinglethoughtpropelledheron.Itmatterednotwhereshewasheaded.Whatwasimportantwasthatsheleftthisplace.Evenifthe outside harboured an uncertain future, the only certainty of the arenawasmiseryanddeathifsheremained.Shedidnotlookback.

Thefirstthreedayswerethehardest–near-endlessdaysinwhichthedarknessof night was barely more than a brief period of dimness, as though a cloudobscuredthewoundinthesky.Faraethilputasmuchdistanceasshecouldbetweenherselfand thearenaonthe first day. There was no sign of pursuit. A few scavenging degeneratesattackedher,half-physicalthingstaintedbytheinfluxofcorruptingpower.Herangerhadslaintheminmoments,takingcontrolasitdidontheblood-sands.Ontheseconddaysherealisedshewaslost.Evenbeforethecataclysmshehadnever crossed the skybridges to the other side of the river. The emptinessterrifiedher.Ifthesilenceofthearena,oncesobustlingwithactivity,hadbeenunsettling,thentoseethewholecityempty,everystreetandbuildingdeserted,wasastarkassertionthateverythinghadbeenlost.Everything.Therewasnotawordtodescribethedisasterthathadbefallentheeldarpeople.Sheknewinherspirit,inherheart,thatthiswasnotalocalisedcalamity.Itwentfarbeyondthecity,beyondeventheirworld,outtothefurthestreachesoftheirfarcolonies.Herpeopleweredead,orsoonwouldbe.She cried, sobbing in a garden in the shadow of a phoenix-shaped topiarygrowing back to its wild, unkempt nature. The slight cooling she took to beeveningpromptedhertoseekoutfoodbutshefoundnothingintheemptyhouseto which the garden belonged, or in the neighbourhood. Every dwelling andcommunalbuildinghadalreadybeenemptied.During her search the trickle ofwater drew her to a complex ofwhite stonecloistersandpearlescent towers. Inoneof thecourtyardsshe founda fountainandpool.Thegroundarounditwaslitteredwithgnawedbonesanddroppings.Assheapproached,amovementintheshadowsattractedherattention.Alyrecatpaddedoutintothelight,itsshoulderashighasherhip,baringfangsaslongasknives,white-and-greypeltmattedwithblood.Ithadprobablybeensomeone’s pet before the calamity, now returning to its feral state. It circled

warilyandshenoticedbrandmarkson theskinbeneath the fur. Itsownerhadnotbeenkind.Its growl was low and quiet; amber eyes did not leave her as she movedtowardsthewater.Leaves had fallen into the water and started to rot, and there was a slightcovering of foam at the edges. It did not matter. Like the lyrecat, she wasfocusedonsurvival,nothingelse.Sheneededtodrink.Faraethil’s eyes darted around the cloister, measuring the distance to theenclosingroof,thewindowsandarches.Twostridesandajumpwouldtakehertoabalconyjusttoherrightonthefirstfloor.Fromthereshecouldquicklyscaletotheroofifneeded.Shemetthebeast’sgazeandslowlycrouched,dippingahandintothewater.Itsgrowl intensified but the lyrecat kept its distance. Supping from her palm,Faraethil let the cold liquid spill across her chin and chest. She wiped at thebloodfromthefight.The lyrecat’s nostrils flared at the scent and its demeanour changed. Earspricked,taillashing,itshifteditsbulk,preparingtospringintoaction.Faraethilcuppedbothhandsintothewateranddrankasmuchasshecould.A flick of whiskers, a twitch of tail warned her in the heartbeat before thelyrecatbuncheditsmuscles.Thegladiatrixwasalreadyupandrunningwhenitssnarlresoundedaroundthecloister.Faraethilleapt,fingersfindingpurchaseonthebottomofthebalcony.Aswingandapullbroughtheruptotheslenderrail.Thelyrecatrearedup,swipedclawsandgnasheditsteeth,frustratedbytheescapeofitsprey.Sheknewhowitfelt.

Onthethirddayshefoundherselfheadingbacktowardsthearena.Themarketsquaresandsoukhadfilledtheapproaches in the timebefore thecalamityandshesoughtthefamiliarityofthenarrow,windingpassagesandstreets.Shefoundnone.Inherflightshehadnotpaidmuchattentionbuthercautiousreturnrevealedalandscape far different from theone shehadknowngrowingup.Thewindinglanesandalleyshadbecomeanestofshadowsandbrokenlives.Bodiesslumpedindoorwaysandglitteringeyesstaredatherfromhighwindows.Rustlingandwhispersfollowedherprogress,notofmortalorigin.Her thoughts prickled with tension. She was being watched. More thanwatched. Something followed her every move, knew her thoughts, its own

monstrousheartbeatingintimetoherquickenedpulse.Alaughinthedistance,cacklingandinsane.Asusurrantbreathofwindonherneck that causedher to turn sharply, forcingFaraethil to fight theurge to fleeagain.She had sought safety here and found no sanctuary. The feeling of beingpursued,hunted,continuedtorise,makingherfeelsickwithpendingdisaster.Her steps faltered, feet scuffing on the ground when once she had dancedlightlyacrossthesands.Herbreathwasbecomingaraggedgasping,tighteningherchest,causingspotstodancethroughhervision.Andallthewhilethepredatorcircled,waiting,readytoseizeitsmoment.Faraethilstaggeredfromstreet toalleytoplazainadaze,findingnothingbutthedeadandtheflickeroftheimmaterialthingsthatnowruledthecityintheirplace. Coming upon a wider vista she spied bizarre towers and spire-likegrowths that had erupted from the buildings at the heart of the conurbation.Leathery-winged apparitions circled their summits. Sky palaces continued todrift the upper thermals, as devoid of inhabitants as the rest of the city. Theburning ruins of others dotted the outskirtswhere they had crashed.Monorailcarriages dangled like entrails frombrokenbridges and the cadaver of a greatstarshiplaybrokenatthespacedocklikeagiant,skeletal,beachedwhale.Heraimlessjourneytookherintothetempledistrict.Shewouldnothavecomehere before the cataclysm. The shrines had become places of debauchery andsacrifice,ofopenwarbetweencompetingsectsandstalkingshadowslookingforvictimstosplayupontheiraltars.Nowtheareawasdeserted,thetemplestepsbloodstainedbutempty,theirdoorsbrokenbyrampagingmobswhilethecorpsesofthelastcultistsrotteduponthestairways,savagedbyinsubstantialclawsandimmaterialfangs,theirlastprayersunansweredbythedeitiestheyhadsoughttoappeaseorlaud.Amovementcaughthereye.Notthehalf-seenapparitionofthethingsthatnowhauntedherworldbutanactualmotion,likethelyrecat.Sheheadedtowardsit,suppressinganurgetocallout.TheMasteroftheBlade-dancewoulddoubtlessstillhaveminionsseekingher.Itwouldbeunwisetodrawattentiontoherself.Comingtothecornerofabroadboulevard,shefoundtheothereldarstandinginthemiddleoftheroad.Shecouldnotseehisfaceashestoodforsometimeincontemplation of one of the oldest and grandest temple buildings. Unlike theothers it was untouched, still pristine despite the slow decline of the city forgenerationsandthesuddencatastrophethathadbefallentheeldarcivilisation.Clad in rags,hehelda sackoverone saggingshoulder,hisentiredemeanour

thatofdefeatanddejection.Faraethil started towards him, wary of frightening the other survivor. Heascended the steps with a weary tread before she had taken two paces, anddisappearedbehindoneofthecolumns.Following,Faraethilcametothetopofthestepsandfoundthegreatdoorswerebarred.Nomatterhowhard shepushedor teased the locks themassiveportalstayedshut.Buttheothereldarhadmadehiswayinsomehow.Sheretracedhisstepsandexaminedthepillarbehindwhichhehadpassed.Sureenoughtherewasa tinyswitchthatopenedahiddendoortotheinterior.Sheslippedwithin, feeling thecoolanddark likeawelcomesheetacrossherbody.Sheenjoyedtheabsenceofheatandlightforseveralmoments,untilsheheardtalking.Movingcarefully,shepassedintoawiderspace,dominatedbyapool,abovewhichstretchedasemicircularbalcony.Thelightherewasambient,originating from no visible source. Shafts of red light illuminated the upperreachesofthetemplefromwindoweddomesabove.She crept closer, ears picking out thewhisper from the darker depths of thetemple.‘…foundmorebodiesbytheorchardalongsideRaven’sPlaza.Theremnantsofthe gangs are fighting over what’s left. I can’t go out anymore, it’s toodangerous. I found a passageway beneath the second crypt that leads to theGardensofIshaontheneighbouringsquare.Thereappearstobenotaintthere,perhapsIwillbeabletonurturefreshfood.’Shehadnoideatowhomthestrangerwastalkingbuttherewasnoreplyandshespiednosignofanyotherinhabitant.‘What’sthepoint?’hecriedout.Hisvoiceechoedbackfromthevaultedceilingofthemainshrine,diminishingwitheachreturn.Shesawhimagain,ashestrodetothemezzanineatonesideofthechamber,overlookingthetempleflooradistancebelow.Tohisleftwasatallcarvingofawise-lookingfigureinredandgreystone,ononeknee,withahandoutstretchedtowardsthebalcony.Watertrickledfromhishandintothepool,symbolicof…something.Faraethildidnotknowwhothedeitywas.Thestrangerhadadeadlookinhiseyeasheascended,seeingnothingofhissurroundings,perhapsconfrontingavisionfromthecatastrophe.Faraethilknewthefeeling;manynightsshehadspentstaringattheceiling,relivingthemomentwhenacrowdtwenty thousandstronghaddied in terrorandagonyasshehadcarvedapartanothergladiatrixfortheiramusement.

Thestrangerclimbedontothestonebalustrade,steadyinghimselfwithahandonthewall.Helookedatthesternbutcaringfaceofthestatue,tearsglimmeringlikeblooddropsintheruddylight.Faraethilknewwhatwasgoingtohappen;aninstinct,orsomethingstronger.Aconnection, the delicate mental touch of one eldar and another, a sharing ofcommon consciousness that had been repressed for so long for fear of beingvulnerable,ofaninnertruthbeingdiscovered.‘Why?Whycarryon?’theotherwhispered.Heglaredatthestatue.‘Showmeyoustillcare.’Faraethilwasrunningbeforeshehadevendecidedtointervene,thoughwhethertosavethestrangerforhissakeorsimplytokeepaconnectiontoanothereldarshedidnotknow.Hesteppedofftherail.Shegrabbedthebackofhisraggedrobejustintime,buthismomentumswunghim inFaraethil’s irongrip,causinghim toslamheavily into thewallbeneaththestonerail.Shelookeddownintoafaceagedbymorethanthesimpleturningof theworld, thoughhewasat least twiceher ageevenwithout the care-linesand haunted gaze. His limbs trembled with fatigue, there was dirt and bloodsmearedacrosshisfaceandarms,andbrokenfingernailsscrabbledineffectuallyatthestoneforafewheartbeats.Shetookholdofhimwithherotherhandandhauled.Liftedup,hegrabbedtherailandhelped,pullinghimselfbacktothemezzaninewhereheslumpedtothefloor,eyesvacant.‘What’syourname?’sheasked.ItseemedanoddquestionbutFaraethildidn’tknowwhatelsetosay.‘Itdoesn’tmatter,’hereplied,shakinghishead.‘I followedyou in, thought it looked safe.You looked safe.Thatwas a verystupidthingtodo.’‘Wasit?’Hesatup,pushingheraside.‘Andwhoareyoutojudge?’‘I’mFaraethil.Andyou’rewelcome.’‘You’renot,’hegrowledback, standingup. ‘This ismyhome, Ididn’t inviteyou.’It tookeveryeffortnot to let therejectionbecomeanger.Fightingtheurgetolash out, Faraethil turned and ran, heading back to the open air, the shrinesuddenlybitterlychillandclaustrophobicanddarkandfullofpain.Shestumbled into thestreetandgulpeddownhotair.Therewasnosalvationhere.

Faraethilsurvived.Barely.Life became a continuous nightmare of flight and paranoia, listening to thescreamsof thedyingand thevictorioushowls, the chill criesof thedaemonicthings that had seized their world. An interminable time of scavenging andskulkinginshadowstoekeoutanexistencebarelyworthcallingalife.Butekeitshedid.The civilisation of the eldar had prided itself on its lack of personal labour.Intricate machines and carefully devised irrigation, seeding and harvestingsystemshadsuppliedallof thecity’sneedsforgenerations.Thoughmuchhadchangedandallwasfallingtoruin, ifonewasdaringandknewwhere to looktherewascleanwaterandfoodtobefound–snatchedfrombeneaththenosesofthegangsthatnowguardedfarmsandaquifersastheyhadoncestoodsentryatcultfortressesandnarcoticdens.Less than one in a thousand had survived the initial disaster, one in tenthousand even. Spread across the city they had been scarce, but time broughtthem together, as prey or companions, but Faraethil desired to be neither. Shehadseenwhatlaydownthatrouteintheblood-dancers–servilityanddeathforthemajority,politicsandtheever-presentthreatofrebellionandusurpationforthosewhoseviciousnesstookthembrieflytothesummitofthemisery.And then even the cults disappeared, moving to the webway betweendimensions to avoid the increasing encroachment of immaterial fiends thatdesireddominionoverthemortalrealm.WitheachdaytheworldofEidafaeronslipped further and further into the warp, bringing ever closer the edge ofmadnessthatwouldconsumeherforever.

It was desperation – a need to hunt and roam on familiar ground – thateventually forced her back towards the racing tracks and arenas of theKurnussei.Sheevendaredthearmourytoretrieveaweapon.Amistake.Shewasunsuccessful, and worse, roused the hornets’ nest against her. Now a verydifferent kind of desperation forced Faraethil to run for her life, the blood-dancersoftheMasterjustbehindlikehoundsonascent.She turned leftandrightwithoutpurposeat first,hopingrawspeedandguilecould outpace them. Yet there was something different, something enhancedaboutthesepursuers.Thewaytheyhadcomeuponhersoquickly,themeansbywhichtheytrailedherthroughthewindingalleys,boundingoverwalls,leapingthroughwindowsandacrossrooftops.Withoutconsciousdecisionherroutetookherbacktowardstheshrines.Ifshe

couldputjustenoughdistancebetweenherandtheblood-dancersshemightslipintothegreattemplewherethestrangerlived.Itwasheronlysalvationforthemoment,andshecarednothingfortheconsequencesofleadingherpursuerstothe stranger’s home. Given his mood when she had left, it was unlikely thesuicidal eldar even lived there, though the thought of finding his corpse,someone dead by their own hand, gave her a momentary pause despite thehundredsthathaddiedbyhersinthepast.Shecametothecolumnwherethelockwashiddenandthesidedooropenedwithaclickthatresoundedbackfromthegreatspaceofthetemple.The sound of feet on the steps behind warned that she had not been swiftenough.Sheletthedoorclosebehindher,hopingtheywouldnotfindthecatch.Shefeltasurgeofangerbeforeshesawthestrangersweepingdownthestairstowardsher.Helookeddifferent.Bigger,healthier.Hishandsformedfistsasherandown the stairs.Heslowedandstopped, ragedissipatingwhenhe reachedtheentrancehallandlookeduponher.Pity.Shesawpityinhiseyes.The others came in cautiously, wary of the rarefied air of the temple. Thetranquillity confounded them and they approached slowly, sniffing the air likedogs.Clad inscrapsofarmourandclothing, longblades in theirhands,hooksandbarbspassedthroughskinandfleshasornamentation.One of them, a femalewith red-dyed hair slicked up in spines, snarled then,eyeswildwithmadnessandhunger.‘Whoareyou?’shedemanded,pointinghercurveddaggeratthestranger.ThestrangerlookedatFaraethilandthenbackatthewitch-leader.‘Asurmen.’

ClickheretobuyJainZar–TheStormofSilence.

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