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from the blow； the possessed Word Bearer’s talons passing just centimetres from its face。
Burias…Drak’shal pushed his advantage； throwing a stabbing blow towards the eldar’s torso；
seeking to rip its heart from its chest。 The shade threw itself backwards and disappeared again； only
to reappear to the icon bearer’s left； and the twin blades protruding from the back of its arm stabbed
deep into his body。 The blades of its other arm slashed across his pauldron； slicing monomolecular
cuts through his power armour and drawing blood from his bicep。
Burias…Drak’shal snarled and spun； lashing out at the shadow…eldar； but his claws merely passed
through a dark mist as the creature leapt away once more。 It reentered the material plane to his other
side； its blades flashing again； and the icon bearer felt hot blood begin to flow from another trio of
wounds。
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His anger grew as the eldar continued to prey upon him； taunting him with its speed； and Burias…
Drak’shal roared in frustration as once again his claws found nothing but air。
For all his anger he could sense that there was a pattern forming in the creature’s attacks。 It
attacked and jumped away； always moving； and always attacking from a different angle。
As the shade disappeared once more； Burias…Drak’shal spun around on the spot； anticipating
where its next attack would come from and lashing out。 The eldar appeared where he had expected；
and even its alien speed and reflexes were not up to avoiding the icon bearer’s pre…emptive strike。
Burias…Drak’shal’s talons closed around the slender eldar neck； and he pulled the creature
sharply towards him； throwing it off balance。
“Got you；” growled Burias…Drak’shal； pulling the alien straight onto his rising knee； which
thundered into the creature’s sternum。
Burias…Drak’shal grinned as he felt the bones and tendons under his grip strain； and he clubbed
the creature in the back of its head as it bent over double。 It was slammed to the ground； and Burias…
Drak’shal followed it down； driving his knee into the small of the eldar’s back。
Burias…Drak’shal pulled his right hand back； and thrust down with all his enhanced might；
seeking to drive his talons through the back of the creature’s skull。
It disappeared from beneath him； his talons spearing deep into the ice； and the icon bearer
snarled in frustration。
Flicking his head to the side； he saw that his brother warriors had been engaged by the bulk of
the eldar raiding force； and with a hiss he began loping painfully towards the escalating battle。
Baranov could barely contain his satisfaction as he hauled the bay doors of the Rapture open and the
pompous； condescending elite of Perdus Skylla gaped in horror。
Eldar warriors were standing just outside the bay doors of the Rapture。 Several of the courtesans
screamed； while others whimpered in terror or merely gaped and soiled themselves。 Baranov
grinned； and stepped to the side。
A screaming woman was dragged from the shuttle by her hair； and the remaining high…ranking
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。
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“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