Marduk。
“This is the prey…slave that has caused all this disturbance？” he asked； enunciating the words in a
perfect； old form of Low Gothic。 “I am disappointed。 It does not look like much。”
“I’ve still got the strength to rip your heathen head from its shoulders； xenos filth；” growled
Marduk。 “Come； face me alone； if you have the nerve。”
“Face you alone？” laughed the dark eldar lord。 “You are far beyond any mon…keigh notions of
honour； fool。”
“Coward；” snapped Marduk。 “Even unarmoured you fear to face one of the blessed warriors of
Lorgar。”
The fiery…haired wych that had ensnared Marduk stood alongside the eldar lord； and said
something sharp in the twisted eldar tongue； her eyes flashing and her hand darting towards one of
the blades strapped to her slim waist。 Her intent was clear： she wished to face Marduk in her lord’s
stead。
“Let your lapdog bitch fight；” urged Marduk； fixing his hate…filled gaze upon the wych。 “I’ll tear
her beating heart from her chest and laugh as I watch the life drain from her eyes。”
The dark lord snapped something sharp as the wych took a step towards him； sneering； and she
paused。
“I have no wish to see you dead； prey…slave；” said the dark lord； “and I fear that Atherak will not
hold a killing blow。 You are less than nothing to me； one of a race that exists merely to be preyed
upon。 You have no right of challenge。”
Marduk’s muscles tensed in anger。
Having been stripped of his blessed armour； and with his flesh covered in the hellish wounds
inflicted on him by the ministrations of the haemonculus； Marduk was but a shadow of his former
self； but still his bulk and strength were impressive to behold。 He advanced towards the arc of
enemy warriors with his head held high； determined to face his fate defiant and proud to the end。
Marduk grinned； as he called the darkness forth。
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Never before had Marduk felt such power as coursed through him now； and he felt the presence of
the darkling god of Chaos； Slaanesh； surge into his being； almost shattering Marduk’s sanity with
the full force of its potency。
Marduk had always honoured Chaos in all its guises； and had reproached those within his flock
who had strayed too close to the worship of any of the infinitesimal deities of the immaterium in
isolation。 He had never felt the attentions of any single god upon him like he did now； and he
struggled to maintain control as the Prince of Pleasure exerted its will upon him。 He fell to one knee；
clenching his eyes closed tightly； struggling not to be overwhelmed by the surging power that
threatened to tear him apart。
Do not fight me； whispered a seductive voice in his mind； its power staggering。 The voice was
silken； though behind its whisper Marduk could hear a billion souls screaming in torment and
ecstasy。 The power of the words ripped through his soul； and a tortured groan escaped his lips。
It is not for you that I come。
In an instant； Marduk lowered his defences； allowing the full potency of Slaanesh to manifest
within him。
“Get it out of my sight；” said the dark eldar lord； unaware of the power growing within Marduk。
Arrogant fool； thought the First Acolyte； he still believes me to be contained by the null…field
device。
Marduk’s face snapped up； his eyes a milky； pale blue with narrow slits in place of his pupils。
“I know what it is that you fear；” Marduk hissed in a voice that was not his own； and the dark
eldar lord recoiled as if physically struck。 “Your souls are mine！”
“The Great Enemy；” breathed the dracon in horror； speaking in the eldar tongue； though Marduk
found that he could understand its words。
The First Acolyte pushed himself to his feet； feeling immeasurable power suffusing his body；
and he lifted his arms out wide to either side； palms upwards。 He could feel the panic and fear flow
from the gathered eldar warriors； washing over him in a tantalising； delicious wave。
Marduk exhaled； and a pink mist rolled from his throat； filling the air with its heady； musky
aroma。
“Kill it！ Kill it now！” screamed the eldar lord； and a hundred weapons fired； as if his words had
snapped his warriors from their horrified paralysis。
The air was filled with thousands of barbed splinters； lances of dark matter and comscating arcs
of energy。
None of the shots struck his flesh as Marduk continued to exhale； the mist curling and billowing
from his mouth。 Splinters slowed as they came within centimetres of his flesh； dropping to the floor
in their hundreds with a musical ring； and beams of dark matter fizzled and dissipated as they seared
towards him。 Arcs of energy flowed around his body； leaving his flesh unscathed。
The pale mist rolled across the floor； and the eldar recoiled； continuing to fire their weapons as
they backed away。
“Come to me； my handmaidens；” hissed the voice speaking through Marduk。
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CHAPTER TWENTY
Baranov threw himself backwards as the eldar began to fire； and stray shots sliced through the air
around him as he scrambled back behind the doors leading into the slave deck。 His heart beating
wildly； he pushed himself backwards with his feet； so that he came to rest with his back up against
the wall alongside the dead figure of the haemonculus。 He stared down at the crumpled；
unrecognisable face of the eldar。
Several slaves had been cut down by stray fire； and lay bleeding on the floor。 One of them； a
young woman； reached piteously towards Baranov for help； blood bubbling from her mouth like
foam。 Baranov kicked at her hand to keep her away。 Behind her； the other slaves were streaming
away from the open portal as more stray shots pinged off the walls。 A splinter ricocheted off a wall
panel and struck the woman in the eye； killing her instantly。
The Space Marine spoke； and Baranov reeled in horror； doubling over in pain。 It felt like things
were clawing inside him； and an intrusive stabbing pain gripped his guts。 He vomited； emptying his
stomach as the utter wrongness of the voice clawed at his sanity； and tears ran down his face as he
spat yellow bile onto the floor。
Baranov sank to the floor； oblivious to the vomit and drool on his chin and down the front of his
chest； his limbs shaking。 The Space Marine spoke with the voice of a daemon； a voice of madness。
Its words were alien and horrific to Baranov； like a deafening cacophony of screams and guttural
snarls。
A sudden compulsion made him crawl forwards on his hands and knees to peer around the
corner of the circular doorway； and though he fought the urge； his soul screaming； he could no more
stop his movements than he could stop his heart from beating。 With tears running down his face； and
shaking his head in denial； Baranov looked around the corner。
The Space Marine was standing with his arms spread wide； his head thrown back； and pink mist
was seeping from within him； billowing from the cuts upon his body and spilling from his eyes；
nostrils and mouth。 The mist rolled out across the floor before him； and the black…armoured xenos
warriors continued to blaze away at the daemonic figure as they backed away from its touch； though
their weapons did nothing。
Baranov thought he saw shapes within the mist； sensuous bodies wrapped around each other in
ecstasy； but he blinked his eyes and they were gone； nothing but contorting shapes formed by the
roiling； pink smoke。
The mist coiled around Baranov’s legs； and he felt hands caressing his skin； which was at once
arousing and repulsive。 The musk entered his lungs and he felt instantly light…headed； as if his mind
was addled with opiates； and his flesh tingled with sensation。
He saw that his first impression had been correct。 There were figures in the mist； and they were
rising like serpents； their bodies unfurling as they stood； their every movement fluid and supple
beyond human capacity。
There were dozens of them： tall； slender figures not unlike the eldar in proportion； though the
similarities ended there。 They were neither male nor female； or rather； they were both
simultaneously； and they moved with inhuman grace and suppleness； their bodies twisting and
writhing。 Baranov found that his breath was coming in husky gasps as he looked upon their
unnatural forms。
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The figures solidified； and Baranov was paralysed in horrified rapture。 His soul screamed within
him of the utter wrongness of what he was seeing； yet his body was responding to the hellish allure
of the figures。 He saw their faces； and they were angels； beings of incomparable beauty。 Their hair
writhed like nests of vipers； and their eyes gleamed with the promise of pleasure… and pain。
The daemon’s faces changed suddenly； the facade of beauty sloughing off as they opened
luscious mouths； exposing needle…like teeth。 Their eyes were as black as night and too large for their
hellish faces； and Baranov realised that the daemon’s slender arms ended not in hands； but in
elongated； serrated claws。
Then the killing began。
The daemonettes moved with impossible grace； matching and surpassing that of the eldar。 Every
sharp movement of the daemons ended in a spurt of blood； a killing thrust； a severed limb。 Bladed
arms slashed across jugulars； and slender claws snapped bones。 Elongated； tri…forked tongues lapped
lasciviously at spilled blood； and the daemonettes spun and pirouetted through the carnage； killing
with every graceful； savage movement。
Baranov breathed deeply of the intoxicating musk as he began to hyperventilate； and his irises
swelled into wide； staring discs。
A daemonette appeared out of the mist alongside him； running a slender claw along the inside of
his thigh； drawing blood。 A stinging tongue caressed his neck； and Baranov moaned。
Marduk laughed aloud； hacking left and right with his blade； severing limbs from bodies and
relishing the unabashed terror of the eldar。
The daemonettes were tearing through the eldar； carving a bloody swathe through their panicked
ranks。 Dozens of the daemons were snuffed out of existence as their physical bodies were torn apart
by the frantically fired weapons of the eldar； but more of them continued to appear from the heady
musk； taking shape even as their sisters were cut down。
Marduk fought his way towards the eldar lord； who was backing away frantically； his guards
closing around him in a tight…knit circle。 The heavily armoured warriors slashed around them with
curved…bladed glaives； scything through daemonettes screeching like banshees； their voices raised in
piercing cries that were at once hauntingly beautiful and horrific。
One of the incubi was dragged down； bladed arms stabbing into its stomach and head
simultaneously； and a pair of daemonettes danced towards the dark eldar lord； claws slashing
towards him。
The dark eldar lord moved with blinding speed； catching the blows on his bladed forearms；
turning them aside and snapping one of the claws clean off with a deft twist。 The daemonette hissed
as milky ichor dripped from the wound； and the eldar lord stepped in close； slashing the blades
across its face； tearing its unholy flesh from ear to ear。
The eldar lord swayed back from a sweeping blow from the other daemonette； before leaping
into air； spinning； and slamming first one foot and then the other into the daemonette’s face。 B