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Author's Notes
I didn't intend to use the characters mentioned in the title at all in this story, but there's simply no-where else i can stick them in the stories i plan to write, before their actual plotline begins.
This is the final chapter in the Treachery's Road series, and it marks the beginning of my fiction stories set in the Jurdani Sector.
There's little actual fighting in this story, as it's mostly just a conclusion to what's already been done, though it's worth reading just to see these two characters make an appearence...They're going to be pivital to later events.
There's also a hint of one of those oh-so-common Eldar/Human relationships, though i scratched the actual ending at the last minute in favour of one that leaves Benjamin Mordecai without a love life to tie him down.
Enjoy, and feel free to comment...please?

Leondras watched with a sinking sense of helplessness as the black mist funnelled into Karel’s limp form.
The Deathwatch Captain went slack, his eyes glowing a vibrant purple for a few seconds as the possessed cultist the daemon had inhabited dropped to the floor, now a lifeless husk.
The possessed Karel climbed to his feet, the air shimmering behind him as a Chaos Lord in bulky terminator armour, black and gold, stepped through.
“What am I?” The abomination whispered.
“Something new,” Eliphas the Inheritor purred dangerously, “Neither daemon nor human, but something in between…”
“What should I do?” The daemon-Karel asked, looking up at Eliphas.
“Come with me, there is much to teach you…”
Leondras saw the Chaos Lord place a hand on Karel’s shoulder, and both vanished in a flash of light.
“No!” He snarled as his feet hit the floor.
Leondras buckled and fell to his knees.
“Veteran-Sergeant?” Gallus placed a hand on Leondras’ shoulder.
“They just…took him.” Leondras couldn’t believe it.
He’d lost brothers to battle, stab wounds, being shot, even daemonic possession, but he’d never had a battle-brother just taken, like it was their right…
“Veteran-Sergeant,” Gallus repeated, “The Bastion has been taken, we’re to make our way to the courtyard for roll-call and to attend the obituaries.”
Leondras nodded, rising.
“Gallus?”
“Yes, Leondras?”
“We’ll tell them he’s dead, better they think he died honourably, rather than becoming an abomination.”
“Of course, Veteran-Sergeant.” Both fell silent as the others began to stir.
Maybe it was best if their fellow battle-brothers believed an honourable lie as well…

***

“Hope you dun’ mind me askin’,” Rennard Osbourne muttered past the cigar clenched between his teeth, “But, why’d we focus this attack on one Bastion alone, ‘stead of the ‘ole city?”
Darius raised an eyebrow quizzically at Osbourne, as if it were obvious.
“The Bastion is the main seat of military defence for Medrogus,” He explained, “Due to concerns about the city being too large to chase out invaders, Bastion Medrogus was stocked with gas shells.”
“Gas shells?” Osbourne questioned, narrowing his eyes.
“Aye, an old Terran method, the gas will flush the cultists out into the ice-fields, where the Basalisks and mortar batteries can pick them off.” Darius’ augmented eye seemed to wink.
“What about citizens, prisoners of war?”
“The Cadian 55th has been granted three days to locate and evacuate as many civilians as they can. The resistance is broken; whatever cultists are left will be in small pockets.”
Both men leaned over the data-screen inside the Chimera transport vehicle as it rumbled towards the Medicae facility.
“How’s Benj doing?” Osbourne asked after a few minutes of silence.
“Scans indicate internal bleeding,” Darius replied, sounding a little shaky, “I’ve treated external wounds as best I can, he should be okay until we reach the facility.”
Osbourne nodded, lapsing into a grim silence accompanied by the throaty rumble of the Chimera’s engine.

***

Eliphas stood on a high rise, the ice-fields stretching out before him.
The bombardment had started mere hours ago, and already cultists were fleeing into the field, being picked off by ordnance batteries before they even made it halfway.
Behind him were twenty Chaos Astartes dressed in black and gold.
Eliphas had bade his followers repaint their armour before leaving, he’d never planned on leaving Seraphos alive, but if he was lucky, the fool Apostle would have been hunted and slaughtered by the loyalists by now.
Fexus stood by his side, as did the daemon-construct, Karel.
“Will we not mount a counter-assault?” Fexus questioned.
“No.” Eliphas replied curtly, turning away from the glorious fire raining upon the ice-fields.
“There might be pockets of resistance left-“
“No, Fexus.” Eliphas snarled firmly, “Plans must be made, allies must be gathered, we will return,” He grinned slightly, “Just not today…”
Forming up, the group began their slow march across the wastes towards the nearest Space Port.

***

The bombardment continued for another four days after evacuation, until nearly all traitor forces fleeing into the ice fields had been eradicated.
At the end of the fourth day, fire-teams of the Cadian 55th and Jurdani Elites were sent into the Ice-fields to hunt what few traitors remained.
At the start of the third day, a Basalisk entrenched below the city’s western wall misread targeting coordinates, launching a high-explosives shell into a headstrong wind.
The wind blew the shell far out of its trajectory and brought it down in a neglected, forgotten corner of the ice-fields.
The earthshaker round exploded in a cloud of shrapnel and vaporised steam, blowing a hole in the ice large enough to contain a Valkyrie gunship.
The violent explosion and the breaking ice awakened something that had lain dormant for longer than any being in the galaxy could remember.
Slowly lifting itself free of the ice, the creature shook the plant-life from its joints.
The creature resembled a metal skeleton, though it’s former sheen had since been dulled by rust and disuse, its eyes glowed a luminescent, eerie green.
Lifting a rusted, clawed hand, the Architect released a small pulse of the same green light, and watched as a staff rose from the ice, hovering in a tranquil state until he snatched it out of the air.
In its other hand, the Architect clutched what resembled a glass orb, which contained a swirling, turbulent mist that flickered and crackled with lightning.
The Architect had once been organic, but as with all of its kind, it had been tricked.
Revenge for the Necrontyr had been sweet, but now their cause was lost.
Some intended to rebuild the dynasties and retake their empire, some intended to find a way to inhabit a body of flesh once more, though the Architect, newly awakened from its slumber, knew none of this.
Another figure rose from the ice beside it, its guardian, sworn to protect the Architect when it awoke.
Subliminal programming within the Guardian had awakened, prompting it to awaken along with the Architect.
Guardian Kalitu had once been female, it had once had a family and a home, it had once been Necrontyr, as had the Architect.
But now, both were cold, hard Necrodermis.
Whilst the Architect, as an Overlord, had complete sentience, and could feel emotion as if it were organic, Guardian Kalitu had a lesser sentience.
She…it…could feel, but that programming would be overridden in times when its master was in danger.
Guardian Kalitu, unlike its master, was only half-rusted, having had half its body preserved in rock.
“Guardian Kalitu,” The Architect addressed its Guardian in a grating whisper, “Why does this world look so different? Why be there no trees, or plants? I see before me only cold, hard ice…”
Guardian Kalitu paused to consider this for a minute, and then spoke in a mechanical hiss that was only vaguely female.
“Time has passed, Lord Architect,” It inclined its head as it spoke its master’s name, “The Dynasties are no more, these worlds belong to lesser minds now…”
“Never lesser, Guardian Kalitu,” The Architect stated, “Only different.”
It had never thought much to the war with the Old Ones, even in life.
The Architect had believed in equality.
“Yes, Lord Architect.” Guardian Kalitu replied, once more inclining its head, “What do you propose we do?”
“Why, we must rebuild that which was lost…” The Architect replied solemnly, “I intent mighty structures to house our new order, our new Dynasty. Trade will flourish, and even with these…new bodies, we will rise as a pinnacle.”
“Yes, Lord Architect.”
“Come, Guardian Kalitu,” The Architect grated, “My ship waits in orbit, and its soul awaits the re-awakening.”
“What of the others, Lord Architect?” Guardian Kalitu asked, “The Triumvirate and Echelon Galariu?”
“They are elsewhere,” The Architect intoned, “I feel them on the winds, we shall find them shortly…”
Together, the two strode off through the ice and the cold, new to the world around them, the grim, dark universe…

***

The Medrogus Port landing docks were buzzing with activity as the Jurdani Elites prepared to leave Maras.
The sky was filled with supply ships and trade vessels flown in to help rebuild and repopulate the city, whilst Valkyrie gunships departed for the waiting Armageddon class Battle Cruiser in orbit above.
The Lady Lucent was Benjamin Mordecai’s personal ship, named after his mentor and predecessor, Inquisitor Jenna Lucent.
Standing on the metal decking of Platform twenty-three, Benjamin watched as Servitors and port workers finished checking over his personal Aquila lander for departure.
He exhaled, watching his breath rising into the sky above him.
His ribs had been reconstructed, and the wound in his left leg had healed nicely.
The medicae had told him he wouldn’t be on the frontlines for a while; Benjamin had told them to frag it and went out with the first fireteam.
He allowed himself a small smile.
“Something amusing you?” A soothing voice spoke behind him, soft yet dangerous, young and yet aged.
Idranel stood in tight-fitting leather and mesh armour, holding a staff inscribed with Eldar runes in one hand, the other was resting on her hip.
Her crimson hair was tied back in a tight plait that extended to her waist.
She smiled, her amber cat eyes seemed to demand his attention.
“Just…thinking on something,” Benjamin replied slowly, “What will you do now?”
“I am dead to my people,” Idranel replied, a hint of sadness entering her voice, “To Ulthwe, Farseer Idranel Alaaras died on Aurelia.”
Benjamin tore his gaze away from her eyes, instead focussing on the pre-flight checks being performed on the Aquila.
“Being dead can open a lot of doors, present new opportunities…”
Idranel chuckled.
“And what would you suggest I do?”
“I don’t know…” Benjamin began, “You…could come with me?”
The Farseer sighed, lifting a hand and placing it on the Inquisitor’s cheek.
“I scried your memories while you were fighting the corrupted; you walk a lonely path, Inquisitor Mordecai…” Her hand was cool, soft.
Benjamin nodded solemnly.
“There is nothing left for me here, I think I shall walk the path of the outcast, and see where it leads me.”
She removed her hand, leaning forward and kissing him on the cheek.
She turned, striding away into the busy throng of the Space Port.
Benjamin looked on, hoping to see her reappear, walking back towards him.
“cigarette, sir?” a gruff voice spoke from behind him.
“That’s the worst imitation of Captain Osbourne I’ve ever heard, Darius.” He grinned, turning to face the ex-Guardsman.
“Can you blame me for trying?” Darius Fitch replied as the two boarded the Aquila.
The ship kicked up a cloud of hot steam as it rose, rotating on it’s axis before the main thrusters kicked in and it roared off towards the ship in orbit.
All the other Jurdani transports had already taken off, and the lone ship rose through the crystal blue sky with bright sunlight glinting off its emerald hull.

***

Seraphos watched the Aquila rising with a hateful snarl.
“My Lord?” Eravas knelt behind him, quivering despite his superior size and strength.
“The Witch crossed me and got away, Eravas, tell me why…”
“Because I failed to be in the right place, Lord Seraphos.” Eravas replied, struggling to keep his voice under control.
Seraphos turned, backhanding Eravas in the face and sending the power armoured giant sprawling.
“We will launch our campaign, as intended, and this entire sector will become a feast for the dark gods, we will snatch Eliphas’ precious inheritance and leave him crawling at our feet!”
Eravas righted himself.
“Yes, my Lord…”
“Vox the Tranquility’s End, feed them our location!”
“Yes, my Lord.”
Seraphos chuckled, thinking of the victory that awaited him.
The Inquisitor would burn, and he would crush the witch very, very slowly.