Gav and Bob Part VI: The Laughter Of A Thirsting God

“Gav, I’m telling you, I can walk,” Sheexa said, hammering her hand into his good shoulder as he ducked beneath the stone archway leading into the guard commander’s suite of rooms. The Catachan’s blow would have been enough to send any average man reeling, even numbed up on drugs as she was, but the ogryn barely felt it. Which was good for Sheexa, because if Gav had dropped her she’d have fallen half a dozen feet to the stone floor.

“No you can’t,” Gav said as he bent his knees and carefully lowered her to the soft mattress. “Doc said so. And Traela said so, too.”

Sheexa was about to say something else when she put a hand to her head, and blinked slowly. “Oh no… don’t like that.”

Gav put a steadying hand on Sheexa’s shoulder. He remembered when he’d woken up alone in the hospital, and the room had been all swimmy. It had been scary. He lowered his voice, and tried to sound calming. “Just breathe. It’ll be done soon.”

Sheexa clung onto Gav’s wrist with both hands as if she were going to fall over. Cold sweat soaked her red bandanna, and dribbled from beneath her hairline. Neither of them looked down at her leg, which was tightly wrapped in a cast from the knee down. Sheexa slowly laid back on the bed. She let out a long breath, and swallowed. Her throat clicked when she did.

“Emperor, but I could use a drink,” she said.

As if Sheexa’s words had summoned him, the door to the office next door opened, and Trobb came swaggering in. His eyes were shiny, and he walked with a loose, rolling step that Gav recognized. The little man’s nose had a bandage across the bridge where it had been broken. It was red at the tip, too, and he had on that smile that said he was going to make some small trouble. Gav frowned, but Trobb either didn’t notice, or pretended he didn’t notice.

“Trobb!” Sheexa said, her voice too loud and her tongue slurring a bit.

“My shining, dangerous angel,” Trobb said, bowing so low he stumbled, and almost fell over. He steadied himself, coughed, and drew himself up to his full height as he tugged on his field jacket. “I come to you in your time of need, summoned by your heart’s desire!”

“You have ears that still work, Trobb,” Grint said, shuffling out of the office and closing the door behind his back. “And even if Sheexa had been whispering under her breath, both of you still have your microbeads in.”

Trobb waggled a finger at Grint without turning to look at him. “You shush! We are on the edge of a holy day, and on a night like this, anything is possible!”

With a wave of his arm, Trobb slid a pretty glass bottle out of his jacket. Dark liquid sloshed back and forth, and he removed the stopper with a flourish, holding it out toward Sheexa. Her nostrils flared, and for a moment her eyes widened. She tried to sit up, but all she did was flounder before falling back on the pillows.

“Oh that’s the good stuff,” the Catachan said. “Not the rat piss you usually carry around in your flask.”

“I’ll have you know that was squeezed from the finest rats on our ship,” Trobb said, sticking his nose in the air. He couldn’t hide his smiled as he opened a drawer on the bedside table, and took out several water glasses. “But say what you want about the late PDF commander, may the Emperor find him wanting, the bastard had fine taste in amasec.”

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough?” Grint asked, sighing as he limped over to join them. Even though he’d washed his hands and face, bandages still peeked out from beneath his arms to show where he’d been injured.

“After the day we’ve had? I’ve barely begun,” Trobb said, pouring several fingers into each glass. “And I say we all deserve it!”

“You deserve what I tell you that you deserve,” Traela said from the door Gav had come through. The tone of her voice made Gav stand a little straighter, and it made the skin between his shoulder blades pucker. The smile disappeared from Sheexa’s face, and even Trobb looked like someone had thrown cold water on him. They’d all heard her use that voice before, but it was rare that she turned it on them.

The inquisitor entered the room with her head high, and a deep frown line carved into her forehead. Her left arm was in a sling, and her right was clenched into a tight fist. Her pace was slow and deliberate as she crossed the floor, the sounds of her steps echoing in the empty space. None of her agents moved as she raked her gaze over them.

“A complement of serious wounds all around,” Traela said, biting off the ends of the words as she spoke. “You rush in without doing proper reconnaissance, you do not communicate your plans to me, you kill a dozen members of the hive’s noble class without explanation, you collapse an entire spire palace, and…”

Traela unclenched her right hand slowly. She reached up with two fingers, and squeezed the bridge of her nose, just over the old scar where it had been broken several missions ago. She let out a long, controlled breath, and closed her eyes.

“And we stopped a cult hoping to unleash an army of daemonettes to run rampant through the city?” Trobb said, tentatively.

“Your actions were thoughtless, reckless, and you put the entire hive in danger,” Traela said.

“Inquisitor, if I may-” Grint tried to say.

“You may not,” Traela said, cutting him off. “What I should do is throw the lot of you in the brig, and let you think about what it is you’ve done.”

“But… but Traela…” Gav said, swallowing.

“What, Gav?” the inquisitor asked.

“It’s gonna be Sanguinala, soon,” he said. “Could we listen to the songs first? Before we… you know…”

For a moment, none of them spoke. Trobb cut his eyes to Sheexa. Sheexa looked at Gav, seeing the worry seamed on his face. Grint didn’t look at anyone. Gav sniffed, and wiped at his nose, looking at Traela. The inquisitor held the ogryn’s gaze for a moment, then closed her eyes. She sighed, and all the steel went out of her spine. When she opened her eyes again they were the same gray they had been before, but they were Traela’s eyes. Not the Inquisitor’s eyes, as Gav thought of them.

“I should discipline the lot of you,” Traela said, tilting her head to address the others. “But as Gav has pointed out, we are on the eve of Sanguinala. A time of forgiveness, of gift-giving, and of reflecting on what it is that truly matters.”

Traela stepped closer, and plucked up one of the glasses Trobb had poured. She held it up to the light, admiring the way the beams cut through the golden liquid. Her agents remained still as stone, only their eyes following Traela. She lowered the glass, and regarded them all once more.

“Tonight will be a reprieve from your punishments,” Traela said. “We will have words tomorrow, when my head is cooler, and we have more distance from this messy exercise of our authority. Consider yourselves extremely fortunate that your gamble paid off, and that the people you suspected of being cultists were, in fact, all members of this heretical circle.”

“Inquisitor, I think I speak for all of us when I say-” Trobb started, but Traela pointed at him with her glass.

“Your gift to me tonight, Trobb, is not to speak until after the morning hymn of the Angel’s Dedication upon the morrow,” Traela said.

Trobb’s mouth dropped open, and for a moment he looked like he was going to say something. Then he put his hand over his mouth, and crossed his heart. Sheexa giggled, something she never did, before falling back on the pillows again. The Catachan managed to roll her head toward Grint, giving him a sly, though very sloppy, smile.

“Grint… what’s he thinking?” Sheexa asked.

“You don’t want to know,” Grint said.

Sheexa’s giggles gave way to guffaws at that. Trobb grinned, showing all of his teeth and closing one eye in an exaggerated, drunken wink. Grint chuckled, shaking his head. Traela’s lips twitched at the corners, trying not to give in to the laughter in her eyes. Gav smiled, because he felt like everyone was all right again.

“All right, the lot of you, take a glass,” Traela said. “I’m not going to drink my way through Angel’s Eve on my own.”

Everyone took a glass, except for Gav. Trobb just handed him the mostly empty bottle of amasec, since it was the only container he could comfortably hold. Traela raised her glass to them in a silent toast. The others saluted her with their glasses as best they could. They all drank, savoring the burning brew as it went down. Gav made a face, and that set Sheexa off again. Trobb managed to catch her glass as it slid out of her fingers, nearly overbalancing himself. Traela sighed, and shook her head as she crossed the room to a bookcase. She selected a leather bound volume, and settled into the plush, high backed chair near the roaring fireplace.

“Grint,” Gav asked. “Do you think you could help me with one more card?”

Grint turned in Gav’s direction, and offered a smile. It was a tired smile, but a genuine one all the same.

“I could do that, Gav,” he said, nodding. “But just one, I think.”

Gav nodded, and set the empty bottle of amasec down on a side table. He crossed the room to where he’d left his rucksack, and slid it open. Carefully he took out the large, folded sheets of card stock Trobb had acquired for him, along with a huge, half-blunt pencil. Materials in hand, he carefully lowered himself to the floor, laying on his belly and spreading the paper out in front of him. He took his pencil firmly in-hand, and looked over at Grint, who had claimed a chair for himself.

“All right, Gav,” Grint said, leaning back and closing his blind eyes. “Think about what you want to say, and I will show you how to write it.”

Gav nodded, and looked down at the blank card. He’d saved this one for last because he knew it was going to be the hardest. He’d been thinking about what he wanted to say to his old friend, and about how long it had been since they’d talked. So much had happened to Gav, and he wanted to tell him all of it, but knew he couldn’t. There just wasn’t room, and he didn’t want to send a bunch of cards. Gav wrinkled his forehead, and pursed his lips. He wanted to tell his friend about Bob first, because that was most important. It still made Gav sad, but it was like an old scar now. It still ached sometimes, but it wasn’t as bad as when it had first happened. Then he wanted to tell his friend about how Traela had come for him, and how he’d joined the Inquisition. The last thing Gav wanted to talk about was Faith. He wanted to tell his old friend about the black sword, and the fighting he’d done, but Gav knew that was a story he could only tell when Traela said so.

As he focused his thoughts, Gav saw ghostly letters appear on the page in front of his eyes. They formed words that would be hard for him to read by himself, but with Grint helping him, he was able to make sense of them. Gav licked the tip of his pencil, and started tracing the letters. His writing was clumsy, but he moved slowly and deliberately, making sure that what he wrote followed the shapes. He had to erase a couple of times, blowing the rubber pieces off the paper, but when he reached the end, he smiled and nodded to himself.

“Now that is a proper Sanguinala card,” Gav said, folding the card stock shut.

When he looked up, he saw that Grint’s head was laying over on his shoulder, his hands hanging loosely in his lap. Gav blinked, and looked around the room. Sheexa was snoring loudly on her pillow, one arm dangling off the side of the bed. Trobb had his head pillowed on one arm, and he was stretched out on the floor. The little man always slept on the floor, and when Gav had asked him why, he said it was because beds were just too soft for him. Even Traela seemed to be dozing, her book resting in her lap, her face half-tilted toward the fire.

Gav got up as quietly as he could wincing at the humming of his metal arm as he pushed himself to his feet. He returned to his pack, and squatted down, finding the envelope he’d already marked for this card. Sticking his tongue out of the corner of his mouth, he slid the card in as gently as he could. When it was nestled in place, he licked the glue, and sealed the envelope closed. He smiled, and looked at the handful of cards he’d completed. There was one for Faith. He had another one for Grenlis, and for some of the other Space Wolves whose names Gav couldn’t rightly remember anymore. There was one for Captain Stolt, who had always been a good sort to him. He had one for Tala, too, though there was a part of him that wasn’t sure she’d be able to read it anymore… not with the way her eyes had been. Still, he wasn’t gonna let her think he’d gone and forgotten about her. Gav was just about to put the cards back into his ruck when he heard something. He frowned, reaching up to his ear and plucking out the microbead he’d forgotten he was still wearing. He heard it again; a soft chorus of voices.

Gav glanced around at the others. He thought about waking them, but he knew Sheexa and Traela were hurt bad, and Trobb wouldn’t appreciate being kicked awake so soon after falling asleep. And Grint… Gav had never seen him just fall asleep like that, which meant he was probably really tired. Gav tucked his cards into the inside pocket on his combat jacket, made sure the pocket was snapped closed, and tiptoed toward the office door. He took one last look at the others, then ducked down low, and closed the door behind him as quietly as he could.

Gav stepped past the small, wooden chairs, and around the side of a desk big enough for him to sit at if he’d wanted to. He bumped into a bookshelf, but managed to catch it before it shifted, or dropped any books to the floor. He held his breath, seeing if any of the others had woken, but when no raised voices asked him where he was, he let his breath out in a quiet whoosh. He tiptoed to the glass door behind the desk that opened onto a stone walkway that looked down on the hive city. Gav pinched the latch between his thumb and pointer finger, and lifted it carefully. The door swung open, and Gav stepped out into the night.

The cold was the first thing Gav noticed. It pebbled up his skin, and turned his breath into steam as he blew it out of his nose. Snowflakes landed on his head, his cheeks, and his shoulders, melting like chilly little kisses. They felt funny, and he laughed a little as the tiny tears ran down his arms and face. He tugged up the collar of his coat, and stuck his hands in the pockets. He stepped over to the wall, and looked down. From this high up, it looked like a little glass ball he’d once seen in a merchant’s stall. Gav remembered it had a tiny hive city in it, and the city was full of lights. What was best was that if you shook the ball it would snow inside for a little while. As he looked down, he heard that quiet singing again. It poured through every alleyway, and leaped from every vox box, until it filled the whole city. Gav watched as people stopped on the streets, holding each other. Some even danced together under the bright lights.

Gav smiled. Somebody had told him one time that song was written by one of the Great Angel’s sons. That he’d loved his father so much he couldn’t put it into words, so he had to put it into music. The song always made Gav think about the people he’d lost, or had to leave behind. It still made him sad to think about them, but when he remembered them on Sanguinala, it felt different. It was like instead of being sad they were gone, he could remember the good times they’d had when they were still together. All the times he’d laughed with his old friends, or the times he’d saved them, or they’d saved him. He thought about all the little tricks he’d learned from them, and how sometimes the way they’d say something turned into the way he said something. As the song ended, Gav swallowed hard. In that moment, alone on top of the city, he thought about how he’d seen Arry, and how Bob had whispered to him. He knew right then that they might not be standing next to him anymore, but that didn’t mean they were gone for good. They were out there, with the Emperor… but they were also inside him. As long as he could remember them.

“A pretty song,” a voice behind Gav said. It was soft, but he heard it clear as anything.

Gav turned, bringing up his metal arm and crouching as his good hand snatched the combat knife off the back of his belt just the way Sheexa had taught him to. A man in a hooded coat was standing behind Gav. He had his hands in front of him, with long fingers just poking out of the sleeves. His boots were high, and tightly laced. They made Gav think of a commissar when he was getting ready for a parade. He was tall, too, and he was so thin that it made him look stretched out. There was snow on the man’s head and shoulders, which meant he’d been standing there a while, but Gav hadn’t heard a sound. Not only that, but when he looked around Gav couldn’t see any footprints.

“Who are you?” Gav demanded.

“I am a stranger,” the man said. He held up both hands, showing first his open palms, and then the backs of his hands. He was wearing gloves, and they shimmered in the air. It reminded Gav of a fish he’d seen one time. Even though it was gray in the water, when he plucked it out of the water it had looked like a rainbow in the light. The stranger reached up, and brushed the snow off his head and shoulders, as if he’d just noticed it was there. It made Gav want to smile, but he didn’t. “But as it happens, I am also one who owes you my thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Gav said, not lowering his knife.

The stranger laughed at that. It made his shoulders shake, and he held his stomach. His laugh was strange. It sounded like it was coming from too many places, and like it was in too many voices. Gav gritted his teeth, and narrowed his eyes. The stranger stopped laughing as suddenly as he’d started, standing up straight again.

“My apologies, Gav Smythe, but you caught me off-guard,” the stranger said. “But mere words are not enough. Today is a fortuitous day, and because of this, I have been sent to fetch you to meet someone very important.”

Gav’s frown deepened. He puzzled over the stranger’s words, until he’d chewed most of the meaning out of them. He cut his eyes away from the stranger for just a moment, making sure no one was sneaking up on him. When he looked back, the stranger was gone. Gav looked left, then right, pivoting to make sure he was protecting his weak spots. A snowball crashed down at his feet, and he looked up. The stranger was standing on the roof like a gargoyle, looking down at Gav. It must have been two dozen feet or more straight up in the air. The stranger bowed low, perched on his tip toes like some kind of bird. He should have fallen off the roof, but he didn’t.

“And what if I don’t wanna go?” Gav asked, standing up out of his crouch and shifting his grip on his knife.

“That is your choice,” the stranger said, pulling himself back to his full height. Gav felt the skin on the back of his neck prickle. He didn’t know who the stranger was, but he moved like he didn’t have bones, and it made Gav uncomfortable to watch. And despite being further away, it was like his voice was still right in front of Gav’s face. “But if you do not come, then you will never know.”

Gav was about to tell the stranger where he could shove it, and maybe throw him off the high walkway for good measure, when he stopped himself. Gav remembered how mad Traela had been at them earlier because they hadn’t thought before they acted. They hadn’t been careful. Gav hadn’t really thought about it until right then, but what if some of those people hadn’t been bad? What if they hadn’t been talking to daemons? It had turned out they were, which was lucky, but what if they’d guessed wrong? Gav realized he didn’t know anything about this stranger, or about who the important person he wanted to introduce him to might be. That person might be part of the group who were talking to the daemons, but who got away. He might be somebody who wanted to say thank you, but who couldn’t do it where other people could see. Gav realized with a shock that it might even be another inquisitor… sometimes they played silly games like this. But the point was, Gav didn’t know, and he could only see one way to find out for sure.

“All right, then,” Gav said. He carefully put his knife back into its sheathe, and folded his arms as he looked up at the stranger. “Where are we going?”

The stranger didn’t answer. He leaped off the roof, turning a pretty tumble before his boots landed on the high rockcrete wall around the high walkway. He never stopped moving, leaping from walls, sliding down railings, and spinning round light posts before launching himself again. When he moved, Gav saw that shimmer again. It followed the stranger like a comet tail, all twisting colors that made him stand out in the darkness. There was a sound, too, and one Gav hadn’t heard before; a tinkle of several, tiny bells. Gav started walking, but as he did, he took his microbead out of his vest pocket, and put it back in his ear. He didn’t open a channel, but he pressed the button to make sure it was on, and ready to send messages to the others.

Traela had also been mad that they hadn’t been in contact with her. So Gav made sure that, if there was something she needed to know, he could tell her right away.

Gav followed the stranger as best he could. He clambered down ladders that weren’t made for ogryns, bending at least a few of them out of shape. He ran down open boulevards, and squeezed himself through alleyways as he tried to keep up. He slipped and fell on the snow once or twice, but he always got up, and kept running after the stranger’s flickering lights, and his broken laugh. Gav was just starting to get winded when he saw a pair of huge doors creak open, and that cape of dark, dancing colors run inside. He slowed his steps, and sucked the cold air in through his nose. He checked himself over, making sure his metal arm was working right, and that his knife was right where he’d left it. He peered into the darkness, frowning. Gav smelled smoke, and the sharp, chem scent of weapons discharge.

“Oi, stranger,” Gav called out. “Are you in there?”

“I am,” the stranger’s voice said, bouncing and slithering just like he had. “A few more steps, Gav Smythe, and all will be revealed!”

Gav sniffed. He didn’t like this even a little bit, but he’d come too far to just turn back now. He’d gotten himself lost, and by the time he made it back to Traela and the others, the stranger would be gone, along with whoever else was in there waiting. So Gav put his good hand on his knife, held his metal arm in front of him like a shield, and shoved his way into the darkness. The door rebounded at his back, slamming itself closed again. He counted one, two, three steps, and stopped.

“All right, I’m here,” Gav said, eyes widening as he tried to see. “Show yourself!”

“As you wish,” a new voice said.

A light bloomed in the darkness. It was a bright, blue light, but for some reason it didn’t hurt Gav’s eyes when he looked at it. It pushed back the darkness, revealing a room that had once been filled with fine things. There were heavy carpets on the floor, as well as fur rugs, and the stone was fancy, and polished. There had been chairs made of actual wood, and a big fireplace along one wall. But all of it had been smashed to pieces by bullets and grenades, charred by mind fire, and turned to slag by a melta in some places. There weren’t any bodies now, but Gav could still see the dark stains where there had been blood left on the ground. He could also see the fragments of the silver symbols that had been set in the stone. That had been where the daemons were going to come through, but he and Sheexa had smashed it… and when they had, it had blown up. It had hurt her worse than him, though, and that was when he’d picked her up and run with her.

A man stood on the other side of the room from Gav. He was tall, like the stranger, but not so thin. He was dressed in long, flowing robes, and a fancy armored breastplate. He held a staff that was even taller than he was, and it looked like it was made from bone. It was carved all over, and at the tip it held a jewel that looked like it was full of starlight. That jewel was where the light was coming from. Gav narrowed his eyes. He couldn’t read the symbols on the man’s robe, or the ones on his armor, but he’d seen them before. When he saw the man’s too-dark eyes, and his pointed ears, Gav’s nostrils flared, and his jaw clenched.

“Eldar,” he said, the word almost a growl.

“I ask for peace, Gav Smythe,” the eldar with the staff said, holding up his other hand to show it was empty. “My name is Ilandresh Va’thil, and I am a Farseer of Craftword Ulthwe. I have come a very long way to speak with you, and to see you in-person.”

“Me?” Gav asked. He was surprised, but not enough to let his guard down. “Why’s that? I ain’t seen eldar since before Bob was killed. What you want?”

“To meet you, Gav Smythe,” the eldar said. The farseer was staring at Gav as if he wasn’t looking at him, but rather into him. The eldar shook his head slowly, but never took his unblinking eyes off Gav. “You are very special. I don’t think you, or the inquisitor you serve, quite understand just how special you are.”

“Special?” Gav asked, his forehead wrinkling up the same way Traela’s did when she was thinking. He glanced away from the farseer, searching the shadows of the room. Nothing moved. “Special how? And where did the stranger go?”

“If they do not wish to be seen, they will not be seen,” the eldar said. His mouth puckered up when he said it, though, and Gav thought the farseer was going to spit. He didn’t, but he took another breath, and cleared his throat along with his face before he spoke again. “As for you, Gav Smythe, you have accomplished something very few people have. You have done battle with the forces of She Who Thirsts, and lived to tell of it. Not only that, but you have been a thorn in their side for years now, and you have not only survived, but you have remained unmarked, and uncorrupted.”

Gav frowned harder. His head was starting to hurt. He didn’t know who this thirsty woman the eldar was talking about was, and he was starting to feel like maybe coming here wasn’t such a clever idea after all. Maybe he was just wasting time. Or the eldar was trying to distract him. Gav was about to take a step forward, when he heard a laugh in the darkness. When he turned toward it, the stranger was leaning against the fireplace. Gav hadn’t heard him move, and there was nothing for him to hide behind, but he was there all the same.

“You’re confusing him, Wandering Eye,” the stranger said. His head shifted beneath the hood, and Gav felt more than saw the stranger’s eyes on him. “You have fought the servants of Sai’lanthresh, who your kind call Slaanesh.”

Gav’s eyes widened. He’d heard that name. He remembered the chanting he and the others had interrupted in this room half a day ago, and how it had sounded familiar somehow. He realized all at once it was the same chanting that he’d heard on the mountaintop when he’d held the black sword, and heard the Emperor’s voice telling him to fight. He remembered the daemon with four arms, and its hissing voice that made his head hurt. Gav remembered how it had hurt Tala, and how it had screamed when he’d blown it up with that grenade. Gav turned back to the farseer, and the eldar was already looking at him.

“Its name was Ak’fth’laast, and your fates have been tied together,” the farseer said. “You sent it back to the Immaterium, and for that it has marked you as its enemy.”

“Stop,” Gav said, taking his hand off his knife and holding it out toward the eldar. Gav put his palm on his own forehead, and squeezed for a moment, the pressure of his fingers making little lights go off behind his eyes. He flexed his metal hand, feeling the ache in his joint of where his old wound had been before Traela had him fitted for his new arm. “That daemon is dead. I killed it myself. It cost me an arm, but I did it.”

“Daemons are not so easily slain, Gav Smythe,” the farseer said. “You can destroy their body, and banish them back to the world of spirit, but they can be reborn into this world over and over again unless something destroys that spirit permanently.”

The farseer’s voice was soft, and kind. Gav had never heard an eldar speak that way before. Gav put his hand down, and looked at the eldar. The farseer had a look on his face Gav had seen Traela wear. It was a look she had when she was sad, but when she had to tell a truth she didn’t like any more than the people hearing it did. Gav tried to reach for that old anger he’d felt for eldar, but that had only really been there when they’d had on their helmets, and they were shooting at him and his friends. Here, looking one in the eye, was different. His brain caught hold of what the eldar had said, and it wouldn’t let go.

“How do you do that?” Gav asked. The eldar blinked.

“How do you destroy one of the greater creations of She Who Thirsts?” the farseer asked. “A Keeper of Secrets?”

“Yeah,” Gav said. “How?”

The farseer shook his head slowly, his mouth open slightly as if somebody had hit him. He looked toward the stranger. The stranger shrugged his shoulders, raising them high before dropping them. It was like he was on stage, and he wanted to be sure everyone saw him do it.

“He is brave,” the stranger said, shaking his head and making that ringing, jingling sound again. “One reason their puppet likely has a taste for him.”

“There are ways,” the farseer said, turning back toward Gav. “But one of the best things you can do is to keep the daemon trapped on the other side. To make sure no one opens the door, and lets it back into our world.”

The farseer thumped the ground with his staff, drawing Gav’s attention to the shattered circle once more. Gav stared down at the floor, and remembered how it had been glowing. How it felt like the chant had almost been done when he and the others had started shooting. He remembered how hard Grint had to push with his mind to keep the door shut while he and Sheexa broke the circle. Gav frowned, hunkering down and staring at the smashed bit of floor.

“It was right there,” Gav said. “Almost ready to come through here.”

“Just as when you took up the champion’s sword, and fought for your Emperor,” the eldar said. Gav’s head whipped up at that, and he bared his teeth.

“How’d you know about that?” Gav snarled. “Nobody is supposed to know about that!”

“That is what a farseer does, Gav Smythe,” the eldar said, once more making a calming gesture with his hand. “We see the threads of fate that connect all things, and we can see how even the smallest actions can affect the destiny of entire worlds. When you took up the battle against the Keeper of Secrets, and you destroyed its body at the cost of your arm, that created a harmonious note that rang out to me. Then when you took up that black sword, and prevented the same daemon from being brought back into the world by the servants of chaos, with the hand of your Emperor on your shoulder, that note rang out again, only many times louder.”

The eldar gestured at the broken ritual circle, and then at Gav, offering him a smile. “I had come here earlier in the company of another to stop this rite myself. But before we could act, you and your companions did. Not only that, but you acted with such enthusiasm that I believe you hurt the daemon quite badly as it tried to reach through to our world. Think of it as slamming the door on its fingers, and possibly cutting a few off.”

“Oh,” Gav said, getting to his feet. He folded his arms, and stared down at the eldar for several, long moments. The farseer didn’t say anything. The stranger didn’t say anything. Gav nodded slowly, as if he were beginning to understand something. “You’re a psyker. Like Grint.”

The farseer winced, and his lips twisted. He opened his mouth to say something, then stopped. He tried again, but nothing came out. Finally, he nodded his head once. “That is… not inaccurate.”

“All right, then,” Gav said, unfolding his arms. “So, you’ve seen me. Now what?”

“I wanted to offer you a gift,” the farseer said, his smile returning. “As a sign of respect for what you have done, and to help make it easier for you to continue your fight against our enemy.”

Gav tilted his head, confused. His neck cracked loudly in the stillness. “What sort of gift?”

“Anything that is within my power to give you,” the farseer said.

“Can you give me something to kill the big daemon for good?” Gav asked. “Ak’fth-whats-his-name? Maybe something like the black sword… I bet that would have done him, if he’d showed up.”

“I cannot offer that, sadly,” the farseer said, shaking his head slowly. “There are few such weapons in this galaxy capable of slaying a daemon permanently, and that is not in my power to give you.”

“Oh. All right, then,” Gav said. He pursed him lips, thinking. He rubbed his chin with his good hand. The farseer waited. The stranger waited. Gav’s brow wrinkled. Then his face cleared, and he smiled. “Actually, there is something…”

Gav carefully reached into his jacket, and snapped open a pocket. He drew out his small stack of Sanguinala cards, and held them out toward the farseer. The eldar released his grip on his staff, which stood perfectly still where he left it, and took the over sized envelopes in both hands. He was frowning, but it looked more confused than angry to Gav’s eyes.

“What are these?” the farseer asked.

“They’re my Sanguinala cards,” Gav said, beaming slightly. “I wrote them myself, with Grint’s help. I was wondering if you could get them to the people they’re supposed to go to.”

“You wish me… to deliver these… on your behalf?” the farseer said, speaking slowly. Gav gave him time to work through it. He figured that eldar didn’t have Sanguinala. Or send each other cards. He’d have to remember to send the farseer one next year. He seemed like a good sort, so far at least.

“Yep,” Gav said, his smile getting a little wider. “I figured that if you could see all that I’d done, then maybe you could see where my friends are going to be so their cards don’t get lost.”

The eldar was about to say something, when his fingers brushed the card meant for Tala. Gav knew it was hers, because the envelope was a kind of reddish purple that he thought she’d find pretty. The eldar’s eyes widened, and he looked down at his hand as if someone had cut it off. As he stared, his dark eyes grew shiny, and for a moment Gav was sure he was going to cry. The farseer shook his head slowly, just once, making the ends of his hair shush across his robes. Gav watched as he touched the dark red one, the one he’d got for Faith, and he saw the eldar’s nostrils flare, and a smile touch the corners of his mouth. His hand brushed the gray envelope Gav was going to send to Grenlis, and he blinked in surprise. The farseer spread the envelopes out in his hand like he was playing a game with too-large cards, staring at them like he was trying to understand how they fit together. Then he stacked them neatly, put them under one arm, and reclaimed his staff.

“Very well, Gav Smythe,” the farseer said, inclining his head slightly. “If that is what you wish, then it shall be done.”

“Thanks,” Gav said, giving the eldar a smile. Gav didn’t want to salute him, that was something you were only supposed to do to commissars and other officers, so he tried to imitate the same movement the farseer had made. The farseer said nothing, but he turned, and walked into the shadows. Gav turned to look at where the stranger had been standing, but he was gone. That was when he heard a bell. The stranger was right behind him.

“Oh, you’re still here,” Gav said, turning around to face the stranger. He felt the hackles go up on the back of his neck, and the muscles between his shoulder blades tighten. There was something different about the stranger now… something dangerous. Gav reached back to check his knife, but brushing his fingers against the hilt didn’t reassure him the way it usually did. “What do you want?”

“I owe you a gift as well, Gav Smythe,” the stranger said. There was still laughter in his words, but it was meaner now. A low, hard chuckle that sounded almost like a warning growl. “You have given me great mirth this night, and that is a rare thing in this dark time. More than that, though, you have spoken with me when most others would not. For these reasons, and for my own, I wish to give you something I have rarely bestowed onto anyone.”

Before Gav could say anything, the stranger reached up with both hands, and pushed back his hood. A face slid out of the shadows. It was a white face, with a strong chin, sealed lips, and empty, black eyes. Twin horns curled up from the forehead, and it took Gav a moment to realize it was a mask, and not the stranger’s real face. A pair of small, silver bells dangled from the horns, tied on with red and purple string that had been tightly braided together. The stranger reached up, and carefully slid one of those strings off his horn, until the bell dangled between his fingers.

“Take this, my friend,” the stranger said. He grasped the wrist on Gav’s good arm, and turned it so his palm faced upward. He placed the bell in Gav’s hand, and closed his fingers around it. “Listen closely. A day will come when you will have need of me. You will know that day. Keep that bell in your pocket, and don’t forget about it. You need only ring that bell, and say my name. When you do, I will find you, and I will help you.”

The stranger’s touch was gentle, but it made Gav’s skin crawl all the same. There were tiny claws at the end of his fingers, and Gav could tell there was more strength in him than he’d thought. The bell was strangely warm, though, and as Gav held it he swore he felt it wriggle. It was like it was excited, and it wanted to bounce in his grip. Gav shook his head once, and looked at the stranger. Part of him said to refuse, and to make him take the bell back. But another part of him, the part that listened when Traela talked, said that he should wait. That he should see what the others had to say first.

“I don’t know your name,” Gav said.

“Then come closer, and let me tell you a secret,” the stranger said.

Gav bent down, and the stranger cupped a hand near his ear. When he spoke, Gav didn’t hear the words… instead, he heard the meaning. He heard the sound of a dancer whose steps dragged across a razor-thin blade. He heard the sound of a deep fall, and the hungry space beneath it. He heard the sound of a rumbling stomach that could never be satisfied, and of She Who Thirsts, reaching for his soul… and he heard laughter. It was a laugh full of joy and hate, and it was a laugh that bled, but never stopped dancing. Gav blinked, and when he looked around, the stranger was gone as if he’d never been there at all. He reached up to rub his eyes, and that was when he felt it. Gav opened his hand, and there was the bell, sitting right in the middle of his palm, the little ribbon curled around it like a tail. He thought, and he knew the stranger’s name. He could have said it right then, if he’d wanted to. Before he could try, though, a voice hissed in his ear.

“Gav,” Grint said. “Gav, where are you?”

“Grint?” Gav asked, looking around before he remembered he’d put his microbead back in.

“Gav, where are you?” Grint repeated. “It’s nearly dawn!”

Gav glanced toward the door he’d come through, and he saw warm, red light peeking through the gaps. He walked over, and shoved the door open. Morning light spilled over him, and his breath fogged in the chilly air. Birds flew up, startled by the door, and Gav smiled at them. Just as they’d flown out of sight, he heard another song start playing on the city’s vox boxes. It was a song Gav knew well, and his smile became a grin.

“Happy Sanguinala, Grint!” Gav said over the line as he stepped out into the cold day. He was tired, but he could feel a second wind coming on. “I was at the place we was at last night. The one that blew up. I’ve got a story to tell you once I get back, and I think you’re all gonna want to hear this one.”

(This story now has an audio version from A Vox in The Void for those who wish to hear it!)

More Stories From Neal Litherland

If you enjoyed this tale, then please consider leaving a comment or a like, and sharing it with other readers! This is the latest installment of my Table Talk series, and if you wish to help me keep putting out new stories then consider becoming a Patreon patron, or just buying me a Ko-Fi as a way to put a tip in my jar for a job well done!

But if you're in the mood for more of my stories, check out some of the following examples!

- Old Soldiers: The Hyperion Conflict devastated the planet, but humanity survived. So, too, did the Myrmidon; genetically-engineered shock troopers who stood on the front lines of the war. Pollux has been trying to escape the horrors of that war for a decade, now, and he may be able to do so... until a shadowy conspiracy makes a move on him. Reassembling the remains of his old squad, he prepares to do what he was made to do, but there is a question in the back of his mind. Is this really happening, or is it all in his head?

- Where The Red Flowers Bloom: When Japanese forces sent a small garrison to an island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, none of them expected to so much as see the enemy before the end of the war. But there is something on the island... something more dangerous than an entire fleet of American warships. Something that bullets simply will not kill.

- Broken Heroes: Rann was sent out to retrieve a lost weapon, but now he and the squad who came with him are surrounded by the colossal, insectoid creatures that claimed the forest. When a brave act crashes him through the ground and into an ancient bunker, he finds something far more potent than he could ever have hoped for... something that wants to finish the fight it started so long ago.

- Field Test: When Inquisitor Hargrave came to the world of New Canaan a few days ahead of an ork rok, she promised them a weapon that would destroy the greenskins. When that weapon was unleashed, though, none could have predicted just how powerful, or how dangerous, he truly was.

- Beyond The Black: The Emperor's Hand: Gav Smythe has fought daemons and traitors in the Emperor's name all his life... but this may be the greatest challenge the ogryn has yet faced!

- Gav and Bob Part V: Faith and Martyrs: The Imperium's bravest ogryn sits down to talk with a canoness confessor of the Adeptus Sororitas. She will weigh his sanity, and his soul, and Gav may just find some of the peace he didn't know he was seeking.

- Waking Dogs- A World Eaters Tale: For my fans of Warhammer 40K, this is a story I felt compelled to tell about one of the infamous World Eaters remembering who he once was.

- Broken Chains- A World Eaters Tale: The sequel to Waking Dogs, we see that Crixus is taking his personal crusade seriously. Word is beginning to spread of his deeds, and his old sergeant Atillus realizes that the time may have come for him to pay for the decisions he made so very long ago.