Several hours after Ryan had signaled his adjutant, he watched the Human Federation fleet ahead desperately fleeing. A look of mockery and contempt sat in Glaichuser's eyes.
Earlier that fleet had fired a crude strategic weapon at him, apparently to distract or slow him. Whether it had any effect or not, they immediately began a panicked retreat.
To Glaichuser, such behavior was nothing more than a momentary hunting-game amusement. If prey makes no attempt to resist, the hunt is boring. Even though he had guessed their general intention in advance, he didn't interfere — he let them put on their little performance.
After they fled, he took his time cleaning up the remaining forces, then his Aeldari ships leisurely gave chase.
Would the delay allow the human fleet to escape to safety? Glaichuser never bothered to worry about that. Given the limitations of human hyperspace technology, he could let them run for a year and still catch them without trouble.
In only a few dozen seconds they found the human fleet that had been fleeing for hours. Like ghosts, the Aeldari ships loitered behind them, sinking a ship now and then to force them onward — playing cat and mouse with casual ease.
Glaichuser intended to tail them all the way back to the Federation's interior, and then, before the eyes of that fleet, utterly destroy the world they called home. The mere thought made him quietly pleased; he could not suppress a smile. He relished this sort of thing. For lower species like these, such petty delights were all the entertainment they offered.
But his smile did not last long.
The god-charms displayed aboard his ship began to glow, suddenly emitting a bright, uncanny light.
"?" Glaichuser's expression froze.
Those charms were sacred emblems of the Aeldari pantheon, bearing the marks of many gods. For ordinary Aeldari they were mostly ceremonial, brought out during prayers — akin to a cross in a certain religion. Now one of the engravings was radiating light.
A phantom crimson blossom unfurled across the emblem, petals laden with a halo of bloodlike mist. A chill pressure descended with it. As a race of innate psychics, every Aeldari aboard felt a cold gaze cast from the depths of hyperspace — a sensation as if someone had thrown a basin of ice water over them: hair-raising and bone-deep.
Without hesitation, Glaichuser and every Aeldari present fell to their knees, trembling. With the most devout tones they could muster, they intoned, "Hail the Descent of the Crown!"
Then a voice cut through, not asking for explanations:
"Leave this area. Do not approach for two thousand years."
No one dared to ask questions or to mention their unfinished hunt. Glaichuser and his crew hurriedly responded in unison, "Yes."
Among the Aeldari, the single foreign deity they feared and revered above all was the so-called God of Art. His position in their culture was unique — the strongest, the most lavish, the most merciful, and the most brutal all at once. He was paradox incarnate.
Strongest: the war-god Khaine, by his deeds, proved that might.
Most lavish: sincere belief often brought reward, even in the most remote reaches, as if nothing escaped his notice.
Most merciful: his temperament could be casual; an unintentional slight might go unpunished.
Most brutal: his mercy was capricious, and his killings were equally whimsical — no one could predict why he struck.
Thus the God of Art's reputation among the Aeldari was extreme: adored or dreaded in equal measure. Many Aeldari drew conclusions from his ways; the most famous piece of advice was simple: do not provoke him. He was known to descend personally and rip an enemy's head off and devour it raw. When that happened, none dared to argue.
Given that reputation, Glaichuser did not press the issue. He nodded and bowed so quickly he might as well have been grinding garlic with his head — desperate not to be struck down for verbosity. From what he knew, if the God of Art killed someone, there was no chance even to swap bodies via hyperspace reincarnation — death was absolute and final.
After some time, the fleeing human fleet realized the Aeldari had disappeared. Unsure of what had occurred, they remained cautious, circling in hyperspace until days later they dared to stop. Eventually they jumped to a Federation colony world.
—
Crimson Heaven
In a garden within the Crimson Heaven, Orsaga conversed with Golariel and the others, masking a hint of disappointment.
"I was just watching a bit of a disappointing show," he replied lightly when Golariel looked at him in puzzlement.
He had been considering taking the opportunity to further weaken the Human Federation. Even if it achieved little, at least it would be a small irritation — a benefit to him. Yet Glaichuser's behavior had ultimately spared the First Fleet and returned them to Federation space, so Orsaga could not remain a passive observer under the terms of their Abyssal Pact. He had to send them on their way.
Golariel sighed as usual and let the matter drop. Changing the subject, she asked, "Did you have something you wanted to tell us a moment ago? You said you were too weak, didn't you?"
As he spoke, Orsaga extended a finger and produced six dim, somber points of light that floated before Golariel and the others. He smiled and said, "These are some recent results from my studies. I want you to try them."
_____
T/N:
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