A loud shrill bought Ralscon out of his high. Irritably he fumbled for the acknowledgement rune to stop the alert. Realising too late that it was a vid-call. The screen snapped into life and Ralscon sighed with relief when he saw that it was just one of his subordinates and not anybody of real import. Ralscon knew that he looked a state, he had been using the Emperor' Caress a little too much recently, blaming the stress of the incoming inspection crew. Dirty, bleary eyed, with dilated pupils (and losing weight rapidly, though he had plenty to lose) he was starting to resemble the wretches that skulked in the dank dark holes of Narthley, the very dregs of society. His work was suffering too, urgent communiques and updates lay unattended, important missives and instructions disregarded.
Still, he wasn’t alone, Emperor's Caress usage was becoming more and more prevalent, he knew that many of his own staff indulged for a fact. Indeed, it seemed most of Narthley was using the narcotic, productivity was grinding to a halt and there were rumours that even the Arbites, the very hall of Imperator Lex Lawgivers was riddled with the drug. The end product was that Narthley was mostly very content and pliant but not very productive or effective. Worth was effectively paralysed, Narthley being the biggest recognised city on the planet by far. Given Adept Larkarsky’s reports however, in the past few years Endomaw City had outperformed it and indeed surpassed it in size and capability. That it had done so unnoticed would have surely given Ralscon pause for thought, had he been capable of rational thought. At the moment his drug addled brain was barely capable of remembering his name, let alone the name of the person on the screen in front of him.
"Yes?", he slurred, more than one syllable at a time beyond him at the moment. "What is it?" He blinked slowly, twice. It made no difference, his higher brain functions were wrapped in yellow silken tentacles, piercing his cerebellum, probing his knowledge, his memories, though he was blissfully unaware of it. The same was happening all over, the narcotic was establishing a network all over and at the heart of that network someone was getting a lot of information.
The dark face on the screen frowned slightly, she was not a user, not one of them. Ralscon felt an instant dislike of her. She would need to experience the Emperor's Caress she would be made one with them all.
"Sir", she said, using the honorific almost as an insult, with dripping sarcasm and veiled distaste. "I thought you should know that we have detected a surge of activity in Endomaw. There appears to be a mass mobilisation of infantry and armour, it looks like an army… what action would you have us take?, We should report this, shall I take care of it?"
Ralscon frowned, this was an irritation, an unwelcome complication. He knew he should take action but the very thought made the tentacles squeeze on his brain unpleasantly. He didn’t like that, no not at all.
"Well, he began hesitantly, have you asked them what they are doing?" He affected an imposing bearing though his head was still clouded and his mind enshrouded, "It could be any...," his mind struggled as extra syllables were needed "...thing", he finished lamely, rather damaging the image of authority he was trying to portray.
Ralscon frowned, this was an irritation, an unwelcome complication. He knew he should take action but the very thought made the tentacles squeeze on his brain unpleasantly. He didn’t like that, no not at all.
"Well, he began hesitantly, have you asked them what they are doing?" He affected an imposing bearing though his head was still clouded and his mind enshrouded, "It could be any...," his mind struggled as extra syllables were needed "...thing", he finished lamely, rather damaging the image of authority he was trying to portray.
It hardly seemed possible but the look of disdain on the screen increased still further, "We have requested an explanation from the Governor there and he has said that it is simply drills, exercises for their defence force, but there are a LOT of them sir. Perhaps I should contact someone else if you are BUSY", the tone in the final word was positively vitriolic.
The tentacles squeezed, "NO!" he strove to re-establish some control. "Note it in the log and mark it as handled,. I will take care of it personally and follow up the entry." The tentacles massaged his brain increasing his mental capacity just enough. As far as Ralscon was concerned though it was just the end of his high, coming back down to Worth with a sickening sense of inevitability. "That will be all," he added, his eyes focusing on the screen once more. He tried to project authority into his tone, brooking no argument.
The face looked less than convinced but ceded nonetheless. "As you will it sir. The Emperor Protects." Without another word she signed off and Ralscon was gratified to see the entry marked a moment later,. The tentacles seemed pleased and serotonin levels increased, barely perceptible to Ralscon. He put his hand in his pocket, feeling the small packet, only a couple of pills remained, thankfully he had many stashed away, having established a barter and favour system in exchange for a regular supply. A request filed here, an alert lost there, a requisition order rerouted, simple and easy things when measured against that wonderful euphoria that the Emperor's Caress bought. He would do anything to continue to feel like that, no matter the consequences.
**************
Carn was feeling far from euphoric, he was strung out and weary and nervous. The stimms had long since worn off and his injuries were becoming burdensome. Thankfully, none of this was immediately obvious apart from a pronounced limp that he tried to disguise with a shuffling gait. He exchanged nothing more than brief nods and grunts with the other cultists as he passed and only his stolen mining suit kept him from detection.
At the end of the chute he had come to an opening where carts suspended on cables emptied onto the chute before turning round and returning empty across the chasms ahead. He had had the good fortune to discover here, a small locker containing a worn but serviceable mining suit the same as worn by the other miners/cultists. Donning the apparel he had done his best to make himself look as much like his pursuers as possible, he had one chance and it meant being in their midst. Thankfully his scorched scalp was now hairless, his hair burnt off in the explosion in the tunnels. His face was filthy and streaked with blood sweat and dirt and a pair of mining goggles and a rebreather obscured enough of his face that at first glance he passed for one of the Brotherhood. Thus attired he had climbed into one of the emptied carts and waited till he was carried to the other side of the large chamber. Once safely across he had disembarked and attained his bearings. His memory of Larkarsky’s detailed map of this part of Endomaw had told him that he needed to go up, indeed he could see the shaft from which the elevator had descended. He had started his ascent. Acutely aware of the danger around him and that he was conspicuously unarmed.
Now he neared his destination. He had navigated the tunnels as best as he could, making only one wrong turn, and now he was back in the complex proper. He needed to find a transmission terminal, a way of getting the message out. Carn knew he wouldn’t be able to escape, that he would die here in Endomaw, and his soul was at peace with that. To die doing the Emperor’s work was all that a loyal servant of the Imperium could ask for after all and his was a holy task indeed. He followed the directions he had memorised from reviewing Larkarsky’s reports and made his way down the light grey corridors, cautiously pausing every now and then to make sure he was heading in the correct destination. Likely all other terminals would be locked out, but he was sure that Ganvan Seris would have a working transmitter, secured, yes but he could bypass security whereas the remote terminals he had encountered thus far were all dead. Lingering around them to try to reactivate the devices would be suspicious to the extreme, this was his only chance.
He kept his head down, giving brief nods to cultists he passed. One guard stopped him, thrusting his lasgun into his chest. The cultist hissed at him belligerently.
"Your weapon, where isss it?" a pointed tongue and sharp teeth betrayed what seemed to be an otherwise human face, though as Carn looked closer he saw faint ridges on the Cultist's forehead. indeed the being's pallor and features were more bestial and alien the longer they were observed.
"Jammed, broken" he replied, effecting a rasping hiss himself, though it was a little muffled through the respirator, "going for another" He stayed stooped, shadowed, his disguise would not bear close scrutiny. Carn tensed, ready to make a move, but with the lasgun pointed straight at his chest his chances of survival were infinitesimal.
The guard's eyes narrowed, "Weaponsss that way", he hissed, gesturing with his lasgun behind Carn, the barrel moved away from his chest just a fraction but it was enough. Carn moved without thinking, he twisted to the side, bringing his arm up to knock the rifle aside. But he was too slow, injury and weariness had dulled his reactions. Fire burned in his flesh as the lasgun blast took him in the shoulder. knocking him to the floor. Even as he was hit point blank he managed to knock the lasgun from his assailants grasp, sending it spinning away. He hit the floor hard, the air ripped from his lungs in a pained gasp. He had no chance to rise though before the cultist was upon him, grasping for his neck, tearing the respirator aside.
Carn desperately tried to throw the cultist off, calling upon his last vestiges of strength. He managed to roll to the side, landing a few weak blows on the cultist but his attacker swiftly regained the upper hand. Astride Carn, he smashed him in the face and then fastened his gnarled hands around the Prefect's throat and started to squeeze, snarling bestially as he choked the life from his enemy.
Carn was feeling far from euphoric, he was strung out and weary and nervous. The stimms had long since worn off and his injuries were becoming burdensome. Thankfully, none of this was immediately obvious apart from a pronounced limp that he tried to disguise with a shuffling gait. He exchanged nothing more than brief nods and grunts with the other cultists as he passed and only his stolen mining suit kept him from detection.
At the end of the chute he had come to an opening where carts suspended on cables emptied onto the chute before turning round and returning empty across the chasms ahead. He had had the good fortune to discover here, a small locker containing a worn but serviceable mining suit the same as worn by the other miners/cultists. Donning the apparel he had done his best to make himself look as much like his pursuers as possible, he had one chance and it meant being in their midst. Thankfully his scorched scalp was now hairless, his hair burnt off in the explosion in the tunnels. His face was filthy and streaked with blood sweat and dirt and a pair of mining goggles and a rebreather obscured enough of his face that at first glance he passed for one of the Brotherhood. Thus attired he had climbed into one of the emptied carts and waited till he was carried to the other side of the large chamber. Once safely across he had disembarked and attained his bearings. His memory of Larkarsky’s detailed map of this part of Endomaw had told him that he needed to go up, indeed he could see the shaft from which the elevator had descended. He had started his ascent. Acutely aware of the danger around him and that he was conspicuously unarmed.
Now he neared his destination. He had navigated the tunnels as best as he could, making only one wrong turn, and now he was back in the complex proper. He needed to find a transmission terminal, a way of getting the message out. Carn knew he wouldn’t be able to escape, that he would die here in Endomaw, and his soul was at peace with that. To die doing the Emperor’s work was all that a loyal servant of the Imperium could ask for after all and his was a holy task indeed. He followed the directions he had memorised from reviewing Larkarsky’s reports and made his way down the light grey corridors, cautiously pausing every now and then to make sure he was heading in the correct destination. Likely all other terminals would be locked out, but he was sure that Ganvan Seris would have a working transmitter, secured, yes but he could bypass security whereas the remote terminals he had encountered thus far were all dead. Lingering around them to try to reactivate the devices would be suspicious to the extreme, this was his only chance.
He kept his head down, giving brief nods to cultists he passed. One guard stopped him, thrusting his lasgun into his chest. The cultist hissed at him belligerently.
"Your weapon, where isss it?" a pointed tongue and sharp teeth betrayed what seemed to be an otherwise human face, though as Carn looked closer he saw faint ridges on the Cultist's forehead. indeed the being's pallor and features were more bestial and alien the longer they were observed.
"Jammed, broken" he replied, effecting a rasping hiss himself, though it was a little muffled through the respirator, "going for another" He stayed stooped, shadowed, his disguise would not bear close scrutiny. Carn tensed, ready to make a move, but with the lasgun pointed straight at his chest his chances of survival were infinitesimal.
The guard's eyes narrowed, "Weaponsss that way", he hissed, gesturing with his lasgun behind Carn, the barrel moved away from his chest just a fraction but it was enough. Carn moved without thinking, he twisted to the side, bringing his arm up to knock the rifle aside. But he was too slow, injury and weariness had dulled his reactions. Fire burned in his flesh as the lasgun blast took him in the shoulder. knocking him to the floor. Even as he was hit point blank he managed to knock the lasgun from his assailants grasp, sending it spinning away. He hit the floor hard, the air ripped from his lungs in a pained gasp. He had no chance to rise though before the cultist was upon him, grasping for his neck, tearing the respirator aside.
Carn desperately tried to throw the cultist off, calling upon his last vestiges of strength. He managed to roll to the side, landing a few weak blows on the cultist but his attacker swiftly regained the upper hand. Astride Carn, he smashed him in the face and then fastened his gnarled hands around the Prefect's throat and started to squeeze, snarling bestially as he choked the life from his enemy.
Carn felt his vision darken, he was so weak. So very tired. He scrabbled ineffectively at his foe, grasping at arms that felt like iron bars. He could not move them, this was it, this was the end. He had failed. Everything slowed, he calmed, his mind fogged. So tired. Time to sleep, time to die. Then reality froze, the moment stretched into eternity. Light beckoned.
Then he was free. He sat up gasping, shaking his head slowly in an attempt to clear the fog. Through a grey haze he saw the cultist on the floor, his neck twisted at an unnatural angle and clearly broken. But how? His head hurt, he couldn't think. He felt impossibly weary but got to his feet nonetheless, impelled by a voice in the back of his mind. In a daze he staggered down the corridor, passing the fallen lasgun. It occurred to him to take the weapon but his body wouldn't respond. He stumbled on, his body somehow knowing where to go. His head was drooped, his eyes half closed. Events seemed to occur as if he was observing them, not performing them, a captive in his own body.
A hundred yards down the corridor he was confronted by five cultists. Without even thinking, he wearily stretched an arm out and the guards were flung aside into the wall with sickening wet impacts. they slid down the wall in chunks of bloody viscera, unidentifiable as humanoid forms. Carn continued to walk unsteadily but unerringly down the corridor, another few corners and another dispatched larger patrol and he was in front of his destination. His eyes were closed by this point but he could see the door regardless, in fact he could see more than the door, he could see eddies, swirls, everything was overexposed, highlighted, more than real life. The door crumpled in slow motion, the thick plasteel crinkling and creasing, before simply ceasing to exist. Carn strode through the open portal, though he didn't know it. Suddenly consciousness reasserted itself, painfully, with a loud 'pop'.
Carn sank to his knees. Blood streamed from his ears and nose. He shuddered, his body was wracked with convulsions and he remained there a moment on his hands and knees, dry heaving and shaking. Finally he regained some control and rose to his feet, wiping blood from his nose. He looked about him. He was in Ganvan Seris's office, this much he established. On one wall behind a large elegant desk was a comms terminal. He walked over to it, fishing the precious data crystal from it's pouch. His head was still fogged, his vision blurred but almost by instinct he prised open the data panel and inserted the crystal. He broke and made connections, moving more rapidly than he had ever thought possible. Security bypassed, the terminal sprang to life. His fingers danced across the keypad, depressing runes in a combination that broadcast on the widest frequency, he just had to transmit on a wide beam and hope that someone picked up the signal.
"This is second prefect Alistae Carn, personnel number one-four-five-alpha-kappa-iota-six-nine-beta- beta-nine. In the Emperor's name I am transmitting this signal to unearth the heresy and corruption at Endomaw mine. I will never leave this place but it must be cleansed. I am sending testimony from Adept First Class Pallas Larkarsky, it will support wha..... " he threw himself to one side, depressing the transmit rune as he did so. As he sprang away from the console a blast of etheric power hit it. The machine crackled for a second, the machine spirit within screaming as it was consumed by warp power, then it exploded. Shrapnel ripped into Carn but he barely felt it. He had no way of knowing if the signal had got out. His mind whirled, his actions were not his own. Once again he was just experiencing things from within.
Ganvan Seris strode through the ruin of the door frame, his staff outstretched, Psychic power crackling around the figurehead on top. The same violet fire burned in his eyes. Carn was suddenly frozen in place, even as he observed the event from inside his own body. He saw, rather than felt, his body pushed up against the wall next to the smoking terminal. Observed, rather than experienced, the hypnotising effect of Seris's gaze. He was powerless to act, but he wasn't the one acting. He saw his arms come up, tear through an invisible field. The force was suddenly gone, he saw himself hurl the yellow robed psyker to the side, though he sensed that his own manifestation of power was weakening. All of a sudden his reality was pierced, the bubble effect he had been experiencing ceasing with a roar of pressure and pain. He was back in control.
Carn staggered past, the Magus made a shaky grab for him as he went past but was still groggy from the pschyic blow he had suffered. he flailed impotently.
“The Yellow Kiiing” Ganvan Seris managed. “The Yellow King has a use for you… come back….”
Carn himself, the apparent dealer of that blow, was faring little better. Blood flowed freely from his facial orifices and there was a slackness to his expression that suggested something inside had snapped. Mentally Carn was a storm of emotions and thoughts as he struggled to reconcile recent events. He’d had no previous inclination that he was a Psyker. None of the mandatory testing had indicated anything! Then again the same had been for Larkarsky and he had proven himself psychically capable in the extreme, maybe the tests were insufficient. If not a Psyker then what else? Was he possessed? Could it be the Emperor acting through him? Carn wasn’t vain enough to think that he was important enough to be an instrument of the Emperor's Divine will in that way but he WAS on a holy task. No, surely not. What then?
He WAS acutely aware that he now had no power at all, stumbling along like an intoxicated vagrant his head clearing far too slowly. Carn nearly tripped over the splattered remains of the cultists that he, if indeed it had truly been him, had dispatched earlier on his way to the terminal. The message! Had it sent? He suspected not, at least not in it’s entirety, not the data packet anyway. His words may have been received but likely not Larkarsky’s full account, and there was no proof! Now there never would be. He was battered, exhausted, on the ragged edge of endurance. He had performed his task but now it was time to rest. No! Blazed a thought in his mind. Continue, endure! Bring the Emperor’s light to this nest of Serpents! He balked at the admonishment, starting to wonder if his own psyche was fracturing under the stress. Still, the voice in his mind spurred him on, one foot in front of the other, as quickly as stability would allow. There was but one chance of escape. The elevator up to the surface.
The floor squelched as Carn proceeded down the now dark (the lights had been snuffed out by the psychic forces released) corridor. He tried not to think too much about the visceral consistency underfoot. Thus far there was no sign of any resistance although he was sure that he heard shuffling not far behind him. Through a door and the ground underfoot turned to hard rock and dust. The voice spurred him on; onward, onward! To escape. To freedom. To the surface! To the Emperor's light! Eventually he emerged from the darkness of the tunnels into the merely gloomy mining chamber. A short slope awaited and at the top of that, salvation.
Carn was beyond limits of all endurance and fell at the foot of the slope, weary beyond measure.He began to crawl, to pull himself up inch by inch toward the elevator and escape. He had made it barely ten feet before he heard a sibilant yet mellifluous voice behind him. He turned back to look the way he had come, though he knew in his heart what he would behold.
“You, you shall not leave, the Yellow King demands it.”
Ganvan Seris was there, supported by a hulking brute of a cultist who made no pretence at humanity, rippling muscle and a massive frame were accompanied by gnarled taloned hands and chitinous plates jutted from ripped clothing and torn flesh. The creature's face was bestial yet an alien cunning showed though it's savage features. Carn saw more shadows behind moving and writing in the gloom. He tried to carry on up the slope, he only had a few dozen feet to go! He was so close! He could see the faded red frame of the elevator, the control panel, the cables leading up to the surface, the criss-cross of pulleys and carts in the air above, like a lattice of wires or a steel spiders web. So close! He continued to edge up backwards, keeping his eyes fixed on Ganvan.
The Magus looked weak, spent. A lurid bruise patterned most of his scalp and his eyes were unfocused. He stood only by virtue of the lumbering behemoth at his side. He lifted his head and fixed Carn with a faltering yet piercing gaze.
“You, you will serve the Brotherhood, you will serve the Yellow King. You have drawn too much attention to us. You endanger the brotherhood! The arrival of the Star Children! You DARE to disrupt our holy work?
Ganvan shook as he spoke, though from exertion or apoplectic rage Carn couldn’t be sure. He was continuing to surreptitiously creep up the slope. Under eight foot to the entrance of the elevator, he could make a run for it, he could…
Just as he went to turn and launch himself up the slope Ganvan held up a hand, Carn was transfixed. The Magus’s eyes burned with an unearthly luminescence, glowing brightly from their sockets.
"You. Shall. Not. Leave.." the flesh pulsed under his cranium and the bruise spread, vivid patches of sub dermal blood pooling beneath the skin. A violet substance flowed wetly from one nostril. "You. Shall. Serve. Us." Each word was spoken in a low monotonous hiss, it was pleasant though, compelling. Carn bought his arm up and flung it out in desperation, nothing happened. He tried to focus, to imagine hurling the Magus away. Nothing. He was frozen in place, immobile as a stalagmite. The Magus continued; "To Resist is Futile. The Yellow King is Truth. The Yellow King is All…. "
Then he was free. He sat up gasping, shaking his head slowly in an attempt to clear the fog. Through a grey haze he saw the cultist on the floor, his neck twisted at an unnatural angle and clearly broken. But how? His head hurt, he couldn't think. He felt impossibly weary but got to his feet nonetheless, impelled by a voice in the back of his mind. In a daze he staggered down the corridor, passing the fallen lasgun. It occurred to him to take the weapon but his body wouldn't respond. He stumbled on, his body somehow knowing where to go. His head was drooped, his eyes half closed. Events seemed to occur as if he was observing them, not performing them, a captive in his own body.
A hundred yards down the corridor he was confronted by five cultists. Without even thinking, he wearily stretched an arm out and the guards were flung aside into the wall with sickening wet impacts. they slid down the wall in chunks of bloody viscera, unidentifiable as humanoid forms. Carn continued to walk unsteadily but unerringly down the corridor, another few corners and another dispatched larger patrol and he was in front of his destination. His eyes were closed by this point but he could see the door regardless, in fact he could see more than the door, he could see eddies, swirls, everything was overexposed, highlighted, more than real life. The door crumpled in slow motion, the thick plasteel crinkling and creasing, before simply ceasing to exist. Carn strode through the open portal, though he didn't know it. Suddenly consciousness reasserted itself, painfully, with a loud 'pop'.
Carn sank to his knees. Blood streamed from his ears and nose. He shuddered, his body was wracked with convulsions and he remained there a moment on his hands and knees, dry heaving and shaking. Finally he regained some control and rose to his feet, wiping blood from his nose. He looked about him. He was in Ganvan Seris's office, this much he established. On one wall behind a large elegant desk was a comms terminal. He walked over to it, fishing the precious data crystal from it's pouch. His head was still fogged, his vision blurred but almost by instinct he prised open the data panel and inserted the crystal. He broke and made connections, moving more rapidly than he had ever thought possible. Security bypassed, the terminal sprang to life. His fingers danced across the keypad, depressing runes in a combination that broadcast on the widest frequency, he just had to transmit on a wide beam and hope that someone picked up the signal.
"This is second prefect Alistae Carn, personnel number one-four-five-alpha-kappa-iota-six-nine-beta- beta-nine. In the Emperor's name I am transmitting this signal to unearth the heresy and corruption at Endomaw mine. I will never leave this place but it must be cleansed. I am sending testimony from Adept First Class Pallas Larkarsky, it will support wha..... " he threw himself to one side, depressing the transmit rune as he did so. As he sprang away from the console a blast of etheric power hit it. The machine crackled for a second, the machine spirit within screaming as it was consumed by warp power, then it exploded. Shrapnel ripped into Carn but he barely felt it. He had no way of knowing if the signal had got out. His mind whirled, his actions were not his own. Once again he was just experiencing things from within.
Ganvan Seris strode through the ruin of the door frame, his staff outstretched, Psychic power crackling around the figurehead on top. The same violet fire burned in his eyes. Carn was suddenly frozen in place, even as he observed the event from inside his own body. He saw, rather than felt, his body pushed up against the wall next to the smoking terminal. Observed, rather than experienced, the hypnotising effect of Seris's gaze. He was powerless to act, but he wasn't the one acting. He saw his arms come up, tear through an invisible field. The force was suddenly gone, he saw himself hurl the yellow robed psyker to the side, though he sensed that his own manifestation of power was weakening. All of a sudden his reality was pierced, the bubble effect he had been experiencing ceasing with a roar of pressure and pain. He was back in control.
Carn staggered past, the Magus made a shaky grab for him as he went past but was still groggy from the pschyic blow he had suffered. he flailed impotently.
“The Yellow Kiiing” Ganvan Seris managed. “The Yellow King has a use for you… come back….”
Carn himself, the apparent dealer of that blow, was faring little better. Blood flowed freely from his facial orifices and there was a slackness to his expression that suggested something inside had snapped. Mentally Carn was a storm of emotions and thoughts as he struggled to reconcile recent events. He’d had no previous inclination that he was a Psyker. None of the mandatory testing had indicated anything! Then again the same had been for Larkarsky and he had proven himself psychically capable in the extreme, maybe the tests were insufficient. If not a Psyker then what else? Was he possessed? Could it be the Emperor acting through him? Carn wasn’t vain enough to think that he was important enough to be an instrument of the Emperor's Divine will in that way but he WAS on a holy task. No, surely not. What then?
He WAS acutely aware that he now had no power at all, stumbling along like an intoxicated vagrant his head clearing far too slowly. Carn nearly tripped over the splattered remains of the cultists that he, if indeed it had truly been him, had dispatched earlier on his way to the terminal. The message! Had it sent? He suspected not, at least not in it’s entirety, not the data packet anyway. His words may have been received but likely not Larkarsky’s full account, and there was no proof! Now there never would be. He was battered, exhausted, on the ragged edge of endurance. He had performed his task but now it was time to rest. No! Blazed a thought in his mind. Continue, endure! Bring the Emperor’s light to this nest of Serpents! He balked at the admonishment, starting to wonder if his own psyche was fracturing under the stress. Still, the voice in his mind spurred him on, one foot in front of the other, as quickly as stability would allow. There was but one chance of escape. The elevator up to the surface.
The floor squelched as Carn proceeded down the now dark (the lights had been snuffed out by the psychic forces released) corridor. He tried not to think too much about the visceral consistency underfoot. Thus far there was no sign of any resistance although he was sure that he heard shuffling not far behind him. Through a door and the ground underfoot turned to hard rock and dust. The voice spurred him on; onward, onward! To escape. To freedom. To the surface! To the Emperor's light! Eventually he emerged from the darkness of the tunnels into the merely gloomy mining chamber. A short slope awaited and at the top of that, salvation.
Carn was beyond limits of all endurance and fell at the foot of the slope, weary beyond measure.He began to crawl, to pull himself up inch by inch toward the elevator and escape. He had made it barely ten feet before he heard a sibilant yet mellifluous voice behind him. He turned back to look the way he had come, though he knew in his heart what he would behold.
“You, you shall not leave, the Yellow King demands it.”
Ganvan Seris was there, supported by a hulking brute of a cultist who made no pretence at humanity, rippling muscle and a massive frame were accompanied by gnarled taloned hands and chitinous plates jutted from ripped clothing and torn flesh. The creature's face was bestial yet an alien cunning showed though it's savage features. Carn saw more shadows behind moving and writing in the gloom. He tried to carry on up the slope, he only had a few dozen feet to go! He was so close! He could see the faded red frame of the elevator, the control panel, the cables leading up to the surface, the criss-cross of pulleys and carts in the air above, like a lattice of wires or a steel spiders web. So close! He continued to edge up backwards, keeping his eyes fixed on Ganvan.
The Magus looked weak, spent. A lurid bruise patterned most of his scalp and his eyes were unfocused. He stood only by virtue of the lumbering behemoth at his side. He lifted his head and fixed Carn with a faltering yet piercing gaze.
“You, you will serve the Brotherhood, you will serve the Yellow King. You have drawn too much attention to us. You endanger the brotherhood! The arrival of the Star Children! You DARE to disrupt our holy work?
Ganvan shook as he spoke, though from exertion or apoplectic rage Carn couldn’t be sure. He was continuing to surreptitiously creep up the slope. Under eight foot to the entrance of the elevator, he could make a run for it, he could…
Just as he went to turn and launch himself up the slope Ganvan held up a hand, Carn was transfixed. The Magus’s eyes burned with an unearthly luminescence, glowing brightly from their sockets.
"You. Shall. Not. Leave.." the flesh pulsed under his cranium and the bruise spread, vivid patches of sub dermal blood pooling beneath the skin. A violet substance flowed wetly from one nostril. "You. Shall. Serve. Us." Each word was spoken in a low monotonous hiss, it was pleasant though, compelling. Carn bought his arm up and flung it out in desperation, nothing happened. He tried to focus, to imagine hurling the Magus away. Nothing. He was frozen in place, immobile as a stalagmite. The Magus continued; "To Resist is Futile. The Yellow King is Truth. The Yellow King is All…. "
Carn desperately tried to move, to turn and hurl himself up the slope into the elevator and escape, but it was no use. He was frozen, like prey before a predator. He couldn’t look away from that hypnotic gaze. The Magus stepped forward, still supported by his bodyguard. More grotesque figures followed, Some were beast like, others retained a semblance of humanity. all of them crouched and hissed, glaring with unbridled hate at the escaping Prefect. They spread protectively around Seris.
"The Yellow King is all..."
Yellow....Yellow.....Yellow.... YELLOW!!
With a ragged scream the voice broke through the Magus’s hold. Carn started as if slapped in the face. He was free. For a moment shock and surprise held him as much a prisoner as the Psychic power of the Magus had.
MOVE!!!
That one word, one impulse, spurred Carn into action. He knew, knew now who was inside his head, where the psychic assaults had come from. Even as he knew it was only a shadow, a remnant, an impression rather than a full presence. Larkarsky had managed to impart a piece of himself and his power in Carn’s psyche and was aiding him even as the imprint faded. Carn knew not how or when, he was only immeasurably grateful. Tears streamed down his face as he threw himself up the slope and into the steel cage of the elevator. He slammed a hand on the activation rune and breathlessly stood at the rear of the conveyance as the railing slid down and it started to ascend. He saw well the expression of shock and outrage on the face of the Magus and the bestial screams on the cultists as they hurtled up the slope after him. some launched themselves at the elevator as it rose and clung to the bottom, he could see them through the grille in the floor. They started to climb, clawing their way round to the side of the elevator. Others were clambering up the walls, extra limbs aiding their locomotion. Joining them, streaming from subterranean tunnels as the elevator passed, were forms totally devoid of any human form at all, six limbed and all teeth and claws. They scuttled across vertical rock frighteningly fast, swiftly outpacing their brethren as they headed for the small opening in the rock above.
Others were hurling themselves from the caverns walls in an attempt to reach the elevator, most failed and yet uttered not a sound as the fell into the inky oblivion below. A scant few made the leap and impacted on the roof or sides of the elevator, making it rock violently.
I'm sorry Alistae, I tried, but i'm so tired, fading, not much left... i'm sorry
Carn couldn't describe the way the message was imparted, it was less than words, more than a feeling. Thought, distinct and coherent, straight into his mind, into his being, into his soul.
"We're not done yet" he growled, pulling Emperor's Fury from his belt and blasting the nearest cultist from the elevator with a pair of precision shots. "While I live I fight!" He roared, firing another burst of shots at other figures creeping round the steel cage. Sparks flew and the figures fell from the cage, tumbling away into the fathomless depths. "For the Emperor!" he screamed, again and again, firing until the clip was exhausted. Even then he used the pistol as a cudgel, smashing interlopers off the elevator's frame as they got too close. Clawed hands grasped for him through gaps in the walls, scrabbling for purchase as he desperately evaded them, dealing them blows even as he was overwhelmed. One of the cultists threw itself at the mechanism in an effort to stop the ascent. It died silently as it's body snarled and jammed the mechanism with gore and flesh. The elevator shuddered to a halt. Carn was trapped.
Alistae Carn knew this was the end. The end of his journey of his path. He was tired. He backed up against the front of the elevator which swung gently as more bodies landed on it. Despite the situation he was calm, at peace. Part of this was due to exhaustion but he genuinely felt at ease even as more cultists and their accompanying creatures ripped their way into the stalled elevator. He swung one leg over the railing, noting with a strange delirium that this was the same railing that Larkarsky had felt he was going to be thrown from so long ago.
"I spit on your Yellow King" he said simply and toppled back over the edge.
As he fell he felt claws grasp at him, but they were too late. Then one talon hooked over the charm round his wrist, for one split second the chain strained, and then it broke. Horrified, Carn made a desperate grab for the golden Aquilla as he fell into the eternal depths.
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