Asurmen: Hand of Asuryan by Gav Thorpe

Author:Gav Thorpe
Language: eng, eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2015-07-07T09:59:41+00:00

VII

Illiathin ran, carving swirled furrows through the glittering gold fog that had descended on the city. Everywhere he looked were dead bodies, strewn along streets and alleys, some hideously broken where they had fallen from upper floors and balconies. All had disturbingly peaceful expressions, as though in their final moments their anguish had been taken away, their worldly desires satiated at the point of death.

A cackling laugh broke the stillness, betraying the presence of other survivors. Knowing the manner of eldar that had ruled the city in its final days, Illiathin had no desire to encounter these others.

He ran towards the headquarters of the True Guardians, his mind a whirl of conflicted thoughts. Fear for Tethesis drove his legs to move even though his mind was in numbed shock. Fear for himself propelled him also, fuelled by a sliver of hope that his brother survived and would protect him.

The fog started to coalesce, forming larger and larger droplets. Shining silver beads the size of his fist slowly drifted to the ground, sliding through the air like tears running down a cheek.

Astounded, Illiathin stumbled to a stop. He held out his hand and one of the droplets fell into his outstretched palm. It was cold to the touch at first, but after a heartbeat of contact it warmed up, seeming to leech life from Illiathin. Not leech, he realised, but share. The droplet hardened in his grasp, becoming an oval stone. It pulsed quickly, the rhythm matching his speeding heart.

There were other stones around him, settling on the floor. He grabbed as many as he could, putting them into the pockets of his robes, filling two pouches that hung at his belt. He noticed that these others remained inert at his touch.

As he straightened from collecting another, he looked up, seeing the sky for the first time, the mists now little more than a glimmering wisp in the air.

He dropped the stone in his hand, a silent scream locked in his throat as he saw what had become of the heavens.

The sun burned black in a magenta sky, its surface contorted with whorls and ripples like agitated oil. Around it a crown of stars was arranged, glimmering diamonds of white light that slowly orbited. Beyond, the stars of the deeper sky winked in and out of existence, some of them burning red and green and blue, others fluctuating wildly, phasing in and out of reality.

The sky itself shifted and swelled, like a wave just before it breaks, distorting the star field even further. It made Illiathin dizzy to look upon it but he could not tear away his gaze.

Turning, he surveyed the sky all around, his stare coming to rest upon two pillars of fire that burned in the void, huge conflagrations of yellows and orange despite the vacuum of space. He realised that they were the columns of the webgate consumed by psychic energy, once vastly distant but now impossibly close.

Illiathin managed to drag his stare from the heavens and

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