guilders shrank back； only to be pushed forward by Baranov’s burly crew members。
Chuckling； Baranov swung away from the spectacle。 For a moment； his gaze was drawn towards
the shimmering integrity field that covered the yawning docking bay。 It was almost imperceptible to
the naked eye； looking as though nothing separated the inside of the ship and the vacuum of space；
and it always made him feel slightly uneasy； as if he would be sucked out into the void at any
moment。
Ikorus Baranov stepped back alongside the dark eldar lord’s proxy； his arms folded across his
chest as the wailing； weeping guilders and their lovers were led away in glimmering manacles that
crackled with energy。 He had never learnt the name of the eldar pirate； nor that of his representative。
Not that it mattered； he thought。 He would be unlikely to be able to pronounce it anyway。
“You have done well for me these past months；” said the eldar； his voice as smooth as velvet。
The eldar spoke a curious form of Low Gothic； his pronunciation pitch perfect； but with a strangely
singsong inflection。
“I am glad that your lord has been pleased with my deliveries；” replied Baranov； trying to keep
his voice calm。 In truth； the eldar terrified him； but they paid well。 “That will be the last of them；
I’m afraid。 I won’t risk another run； not with the tyranids so close。”
Baranov flashed a glance at the eldar’s face； trying to read him。 Normally a good judge of
character； he found it galling that he could not gauge the eldar’s emotions in the slightest。 Never
again will I work with xenos； he thought； though he knew as soon as he thought it that it was a lie。
“The… what do you call them？ Tyranids？” said the eldar。 Baranov nodded。
“Your pronunciation is perfect；” commented Baranov。 The eldar stared at him for a moment； and
he felt himself shrink under his unfathomable gaze。
134
“The tyranids might well exterminate all of the lesser races； in time；” said the eldar casually。
“They are a menace；” agreed Baranov； unsure where the conversation was leading； and
uncomfortable making small talk with the deadly eldar lord。
“If all of your kind are eradicated； where then will my lord find such slaves？” asked the eldar；
gesturing towards the guilders being dragged away。 “Your race breeds like vermin。 Your race is
vermin； but you have your uses； don’t you； Ikorus Baranov？”
“I… I believe we do； my lord。 Or at least some of us do。”
“I am glad that you believe so；” said the eldar。 He gestured more of his warriors forward； and
they began to surround Baranov and his crewmembers。
“Ah；” said Baranov； “I think we should part ways now； honoured lord。 I won’t press you for the
payment for this last group。 Consider it a gift； a gift to honour the friendship between us。”
“Friendship？” said the eldar slowly； as if savouring the word。 “A curious； irrelevant mon…keigh
concept。 And honour？ Where is the honour in betraying your own kind？ Delivering them to an
enemy； albeit superior； race？ That is honourable in your eyes？”
Baranov felt the sweat running down his back； and his throat was suddenly dry。 He flinched as
the eldar walked behind him； but he felt rooted to the spot； unable to think； unable to move。
“You are a detestable race；” said the eldar。 “Your very stench offends me； and yet； you have
your uses。 Your soul…fires burn so bright； and your fear… your fear is delectable。”
The eldar spun away from the petrified mon…keigh worm。
“Enslave them；” he said in the eldar tongue。
Marduk took careful aim at one of the frenzied eldar wyches as it darted towards him。 Squeezing the
trigger； the eldar’s head disappeared in a mist of blood。 The eldar warriors were almost naked； their
flesh covered only by totemic war paint and ritual piercings； and they moved like deadly dancers as
they cut into the warriors of the XVII Legion。 Their strangely fashioned weapons wove dazzling
patterns through the air； their movements at once enthralling and deadly。
A score of them had died as they approached； ripped apart by the murderous swathe of fire that
the Word Bearers had laid down。 More had perished when one of their hovering skiffs had been shot
from the air； the fragile vehicle tipping onto its side； throwing its occupants onto the ice before it
smashed down upon them； impaling several on its bladed sides and crushing more beneath its
weight。
Now the wyches had engaged them in melee combat； and the odds were tipping towards the
greater numbers of the eldar warriors。
Parallel beams of incandescent light speared through the night as a Land Raider fired upon the
knife…like shapes of the dark skiffs that circled the battle； searing a pair of holes through one of its
barbed； sail…like uprights。 The raider vehicle veered to the side； moving with remarkable speed and
grace as it avoided another pair of shots directed towards it； and another of the vehicles returned
fire； a beam of darkness stabbing into the front of the Land Raider； which was rocked by the blow。
Jetbikes streamed out of the night； screaming low through the fight； peppering the Word Bearers
with splinter fire。 Marduk spun； his chainsword roaring； and cut the arm from one of the jetbikers as
the vehicle screamed past him。 Blood pumped from the wound and the rider lost control of his
jetbike； which flipped into a sudden dive； skidding into the ice and smashing headlong into Kol
Badar。
The Coryphaus saw it coming out of the corner of his vision and braced himself； leaning his
shoulder into the careering jetbike。 It shattered against him； breaking apart as it knocked him back a
step； and the rider was catapulted over the handlebars； blood spraying in a wide arc from the stump
of his arm。
Marduk fired his pistol into the chest of another of the wyches as it closed on him； and the
painted figure was hurled backwards by the force of the shot。 He spun； targeting matrices lighting up
135
around him； and saw another of the wyches； her gaudy dyed red hair swinging behind her as she
ducked under a swinging blow from one of Sabtec’s coterie brothers and slashed a blade through the
warrior’s leg； cutting it off at the knee。
Marduk judged that this was the leader of the wych troop。 She moved with exquisite； savage
grace； her serpentine whip writhing with a life of its own。 The whip cracked out； and its multiple
barbed tips lashed around the arm of another warrior brother。 Energy coursed up the length of the
whip and the warrior of the XVII Legion dropped to the ground； his body convulsing。
Marduk levelled his bolt pistol at the wych’s head； but before he could fire； a net of fine； razorsharp
wire wrapped around his arm； pulling his aim off target and slicing through his vambraces。 A
tri…forked spear stabbed towards Marduk’s chest； but the First Acolyte swatted it aside with his
chainsword and hacked into the eldar’s neck； ripping his chainblade through flesh。
Untangling himself from the wire net that had cut half…through his vambrace； Marduk turned and
staggered back from the furious assault of another of the wyches。 It danced towards him with a pair
of long…bladed swords weaving before it。 Each of the swords had a guard that protected the
wielder’s hands； and they had curving blades for pommels。
The blades moved faster than Marduk could follow； and he was losing ground before their
flashing advance。 Snarling； he leapt forwards； his hatred fuelling his servo…enhanced strength。
One of the blades slashed for his neck； and Marduk blocked the attack with his forearm； while
the other sword slashed up towards his groin。 He met the blow with one of his own； and for a
moment the two combatants were locked together。 Then the eldar flipped backwards； first one foot
and then the other cannoning into the base of Marduk’s helmet； snapping his head backwards。
The two blades stabbed towards Marduk’s heart； but he twisted at the last moment； and they
scraped a pair of furrows across his chest。 The First Acolyte grabbed one of the eldar’s wrists；
pinning it in place； and smashed the spiked guard of his chainsword into the wych’s face；
pulverising its skull。
Dropping the lifeless corpse to the ground； Marduk surveyed the battle。 The eldar were
everywhere； darting in and out of the melee； blades flashing and pistols spitting razor…sharp
splinters。 Another of the Land Raiders was destroyed； its blackened hull smoking and lifeless； and
jetbikes screamed around the outside of the battle； banking sharply before gunning their engines and
cutting like knives through the combat。 Shadowy figures appeared on the outskirts； preying upon the
unwary； blinking into existence behind warrior brothers engaged in combat； and cutting them down。
His selves well； and the ice was strewn with the eldar dead； but he
knew instinctively that this was not a battle he could win。 The notion of retreating was repellent to
him； but he had to keep things in perspective。 He had what he needed。 The knowledge was locked
inside the explorator’s brain； housed in the body of Darioq…Grendh’al。 He had only to get away from
this damnable moon； and return to Sicarus。 Everything else was meaningless。
Marduk had ordered the warriors of the Host to protect Darioq…Grendh’al； but he saw now that
such precautions were unnecessary。 The corrupted magos was killing anything that came near him；
and the first Acolyte smiled at the daemon’s bloodlust as it overcame any resistance left within its
host body。
A mass of writhing； daemonic tentacles； black and oily； burst from the magos’s body to join his
mechadendrites； each appearing to move with their own will and sentience。 They coiled around the
legs of those eldar that closed in around the magos； effortlessly hurling them through the air； while
other sucker…tipped tentacles drew victims in close； where they were dismembered by Darioq’s
toothed servo…arms。
Snapping mouths upon the tips of mechadendrites burrowed into xenos bodies； and fresh
mutations appeared upon the magos’s flesh。 More spines and horny protrusions pushed out along the
ridges of his servo…arms； and from his knee…joints； metal merged seamlessly into bone and horn。
“We are leaving！” roared Marduk； and Kol Badar instantly set about ordering the evacuation。
136
An arc of black light struck the side of the shuttle； and Marduk felt a stab of unease。 It was not a
feeling that he was used to； and it served only to feed his anger。 If the eldar immobilised the shuttle；
there would be no getting off the moon。
“Move！” roared Marduk； stepping back towards the embarkation ramp of the Idolater； holding
his chainsword in both hands。 His bolt pistol was gone； but it mattered not。 All that mattered now
was getting off this cursed world。
The Word Bearers formed a retreating arc； closing together and backing towards the shuttle；
bolters blazing and chainswords roaring； and the engines of the Idolater roared to life。
Marduk stood with Kol Badar and Sabtec at the top of the embarkation ramp as the engines of the
Idolater fired。
“Here he comes；” remarked Kol Badar as Burias…Drak’shal leapt through the press of dark eldar；
crushing the skull of one of the wyches as he came。 He was bleeding from dozens of wounds； the
largest a gaping hole in his side； and his armour was pe