Penny

The Sinful Stars

"We are going to bring him with us?" Annika asked. The Barbarian, Ragnar Crowson, from what she had seen in his memories, was no angel but nor was he a wanton butcher. Annika took no pleasure in the idea of cutting his throat while he was unconscious, especially know that she had inhabited his mind.

"There is no honor in killing an unarmed opponent and if we leave him he might wake up thirty seconds from now and set the whole pack of them on us," Orion pointed out. There was no edge to his tone but Annika couldn't help but feel slightly shamed by her own thoughts and her dusky skin took on a slight blush.

"Of course," she agreed hastily, tucking the stolen laser pistol into her waist belt and following along behind.

"Let's just be sure we are far away from here when he does."

It was nearly an hour later by the time the Vuldrock began to stir. By that point the sun was beginning to paint the eastern horizon and it was becoming more difficult to evade the roving bands of Vuldrock, they seemed to be concentrated between their landing sight and the city, curse their luck.

"We should find somewhere to hide out," Annika advised as she moped the sweat from her face. The going had been rough as they had been forced to avoid roads and trails and she was unused to such sustained physical exertion.

"I need to pray also," she added with deliberate understatement. The physic exertions she had undertaken differed from thuegry. While it was safe enough for her to use them, overextending herself as she had tonight engendered certain risks. She could already feel her dark twin moving in the back of her mind, stirring unhealthy desires and lusts that she worked to keep under control. The Vuldrock slung over Orion's shoulder began to moan as she spoke. It was obvious the knight, in peak physical condition as Annika's distracted mind gleefully reported to her, wanted to continue but he could see that she needed rest and they needed to determine what to do with the captive. Fortunately the Pancreator smiled upon them and there were several craggy defiles penetrating a nearby granite hilltop. Orion selected one and they followed it into the hill until it became a true cave. A rivulet of cool fresh water flowed along the center of the narrow space that opened up to a small pool where it welled up from an underground spring. It was pitch black but Orion, perhaps guided by his augmetic eye led her without faltering. Once they reached the spring they gathered up anceint brushwood and piled it in the opening to block out any chance of light escaping and started a small fire with the aid of the laser pistol.

As Orion propped the Vuldrock against one of the stony walls the barbarians eyes snapped open as the cold stone touched his back. Orion had his sword to the man's neck in an instant and the big raider froze in place, hands extended. Annika pointed the laser pistol at him more or less haphazardly though she doubted she could finish the job if Orion failed.

"Slig Hassen der vender bakan Thane," the Vuldrok said quietly.

"He says he is at your mercy lord," Annika translated. Orion glanced at her, surprised that she seemed to speak the languge, in truth she had lifted the knowledge from his mind when she had melded with him earlier. Without practice it would fade but for now she could manage it. She knelt in the sand and sketched out the symbol of the universal church with her fingers then began to pray.

"Dreken hexen will curse us both," the Vuldrok said, his words resolving into the common tongue as her rite imbued all present with the ability to understand each other, just as the Pancreator understood and judged all souls, regardless of their faith.

Warhammer Fantasy: From Small Beginnings...

I'm isolating myself when Im not at work so I theoretically have time to write.

The Sinful Stars

Annika came forward cautiously, a little stunned with the speed and ferocity with which Orion had dispatched the enemy. Not for the first time she wondered what he had done in order to earn the emnity of the Bishop. It seemed an extreme reaction to the cybernetic eye alone. She stepped carefully around the fallen and knelt down on the rough grass. The Vuldrock smelled of animal fat and smoke and it turned her stomach as she got closer. Almost gingerly she reached forward and touched her fingers to the unconscious mans temple and eyebrow.

The smell of smoke and sweat competed with the reek of stale beer and damp animals. There must have been thirty tribesman packed into the longhall, shouting to make themselves heard over each other and over the roar of the blizzard outside. Wulf stood on the dais shouting down at his thanes.

"Silence you dog faced curs!" he roared, brandishing a massive machine gun with a brutal looking glaive blade affixed as a bayonet. To punctuate the point he fired a long burst at the far wall, shattering a post into a pile of splinters and half deafening the halls occupants. Annika felt herself laugh in maniac excitement, after a moment the laugh caught and the rafters shook with the roaring laughter of the thanes.

"I am no coward and ill kill any man who says otherwise, and this is not suicide," Wulf roared. He waved a handful of documents, simple parchment now stained with grease.

"These are the patrol schedules for their fleet, we can be there for a week before they can bring their ships back to stop us!"

"Your bum paper tells you this?" Svain shouted to another round of uproariously laughter.

"These I have from a chieftain of the soft folk! He wants us to raid. This Engel seems to think it will help him, he hasn't known many Vuldrock! His pretty throat will be cut with the rest!"

Annika snapped back to herself, pipe smoke spilling from her nostrils. She leaped to her feet eyes wide as she found her form to small for her muscles, her tattoos were gone and her beard... The Priestess blinked as she seemed to settle into her own body again. She spat into the running stream and recited a ritual of purification to center her thoughts.

"These men are not here by chance," she told Orion, reaching down to draw a laser pistol from the cross belts of one of the dead Vuldrok.

"Someone invited them here, someone in Rochfort's court."

The Sinful Stars

Annika knew nothing of woodcraft. Truthfully anything beyond the sparse palm trees and scrubby vegetation of Istkar’s vast deserts made her vaguely uncomfortable but she knew enough not to imagine that they could slip around these three without drawing attention. She was just about to give Orion the go ahead to dispose of them when she heard a familiar word amid the gutural gibberish of the Vuldrock speech. Engel. It clashed sufficiently with the Vuldrock speech to stand out. Not a word. A name. Annika held up a hand to stall her knightly companion for a moment as she tried to recall where she had heard the name before. She closed her eyes and focused her mind on the rite of Idetica.

Annika sat at the captains table in the dining hall of the Farsi. The recollection was so perfect that she could taste the wine and smell the delicious aroma of roasted chicken and seasoned vegetables the chef had prepared. In the here and now her stomach growled, reminding her it had been nearly twenty four hours since she had eaten. Fasil, the dark skinned captain, a member of one of the junior lines of the al-Malik family was engaging in a spirited debate with the Charioteer.

“I tell you that Rochfort and all his advisers, Bessimer, Engel, all the rest have gone mad,” Fasil declared waving his fork to emphasise his point. The Charioteer opened his mouth to counter the assertion but Annika allowed the rite to lapse, having learned all she needed. She glanced across at Orion. They were too close to the Vuldrocks to risk even whispered speech.

We need to take the talkative one alive sounded her voice in his head.

The Sinful Stars

Annika pursed her lips as she pondered the question. Though there were cavernous differences between Orthodox and Estakonic doctrine the confession of sins was a fairly uncomplicated point of agreement.

“Both things can be true, certainly we should conduct ritual confessions periodically,” she hopped over a stream with a graceful jump and smiled back at Orion.

“Though, perhaps not right at the moment,” she grinned. The were climbing a small hill, clambering over rocks as the trees thinned in the unhelpful soil. Reaching the crest they could view the valley beyond through a large gap in the canopy. The city of Tolth was visible as a distant smear of light, but the forest between was spotted with fires where Vuldrok’s had found smaller forest villages, or perhaps had simply started fires.

“I am supposed to watch you, and provide advice during your service,” she continued as the started down the otherside of the hill.

“Most people, yourself included, confess at church services and ask for the Pancreator’s forgiveness in a general sense,” she explained, halting for a moment as Orion cautioned her about a fern covered with hairlike barbed hooks.

“But some people, like nobles, sometimes take on quests and tasks that have far more dangerous decisions to make. People who need the Pancreator’s forgiveness in a more immediate and personal way. I am expected to act as a counselor and a confidant as well as a priest.”

She climbed over a log and slipped down into a shallow creek that soaked her to her ankles in chilly water.

“I suspect that the bishop had his own reasons for making this particular appointment, but I shall endeavor to do my best to serve.”

The Sinful Stars

Annika peered through the forest her eyes hardly able to keep track of the whirl of violence and death. As a teenager she had witnessed the gladiatorial combats in which condemned prisoners fought to the death, she had seen blood and viscera then, but to be so close to the scene was an altogether different experience. It was only once the action was over that it occurred to her that Orion might fall and she would be left alone and without a weapon. She wasn’t exactly helpless but nor did she think she had a chance of prevailing over two battle hardened warriors. Shakily she came to her feet.

“Shedding blood in the defence of the Faith is no sin,” she quoted from the Omega Gospels. It sounded a little strange to her lips and she wondered if the mad Duke they were being sent to help had used the very same passage to justify his actions. Before she could say anything further a series of brutal shouts tore through the woods. Weird ululating hunting cries that no doubt came from other Vuldrock warriors.

“We should go,” she suggested but before she could speak a dozen Vuldrock burst into the clearing. Without thinking she grabbed Orion by the shoulder and reached out with her gifts.

Don’t move. Annika’s voice sounded in Orion’s mind. The thought voice had an edge of command to it that was enough to quash an immediate and unfortunate reaction. The Vuldrock at the edge of the clearing looked around in confusion, bestial faces suddenly perplexed.

WHAT IS HAPPENING? Orion’s voice thundered in her mind though his lips didn’t move. The Vuldrock suddenly seemed edgy, glancing around and hefting weapons.

Think quietly she thought/implored. Imagine you are small, beneath notice. The volume of Orion’s thoughts subsided somewhat though they still swirled and edied in confusion. All will be well, she thought reassuringly. Annika rather hoped that was true, she had been told of this technique but she had never actually used it. The barbarians fanned out in a rough line and began to sweep across the clearing. She could hear the thunder of Orion’s pulse, still primed for action and her own racing with fear. The Vuldrock walked toward them though despite the fact they were in plain sight, gave no indication of having seen them. A pair of the bearded warriors paused to examine their dead companions and looked around in confusion. One seemed like he was about to tread on Annika but then inexplicably stepped aside and walked around her, gesturing off into the brush and growling in his own language. After a brief debate the headed off into the woods, bodies low and weapons hefted in expectation of action. After a few minutes all was quiet.

Annika released Orion and there was a faintly audible hiss in the air. She sagged back slightly reciting a ritual of purification under her breath. Orion gave her an unreadable look.

“We must rejoice in the Pancreator’s favor,” she told him before coming unsteadily to her feet.She touched a fingertip to the symbol of the Celestial Sun that hung between her breasts and then made some effort to shake the twigs out of her braided hair.
@POOHEAD189

The Sinful Stars

Annika opened her mouth to tell Orion that she didn’t know how to use a flight suit but before she could do so one of the pilots shouted a startled oath and there was a sudden tremendous blast of wind and sound. Annika screamed as there was a confused sensation of light and ripping wind and she was tumbling through black empty space. The sky wheeled kaleidoscopically and she had a momentary glimpse of the runt shuttle breaking apart and disintegrating in a fireball, though she could hear no other sound over the deafening roar of the wind as she tumbled in freefall. The whipping wind tore her habit away and her braided hair snapped like a torn halyard on a sailing ship. Ice cold fear gripped her as she plunged downwards toward the dark earth. A distant analytical part of her mind registered that the shuttle had been hit with some sort of anti-aircraft weapon that had torn its belly open like a gutted shamene. Desperately she tried to form a prayer to the Pancreator but the rushing air stole the word before they could sound.

Suddenly something caught her around the waist and she felt like she was wrenched upwards by some mighty force. For a disoriented moment she thought the Pancreator had provided a miracle, and perhaps he had because, incredibly Orion had his arms around her, the wings of his flight suit deployed at full breaking thrust. The suit was designed to carry a knight and his full armament so her slight additional weight proved of little consequence. Orion shouted something to her and she had to read his lips to make out ‘hold on’. Convulsively she closed her arms around him and he let her go, snatching up the controls of the flight suit and breaking hard. The wings flared out to maximize the deceleration and the rush of the wind died away for a few heart beats.

“Hold on!” Orion shouted though she couldn’t possibly have tightened her grip around his armored torso. She had a fraction of a second to glance downard to see the green canopy of the massive trees which covered much of the surface of Gwynneth racing towards them. The weight might not be a problem to the flight suit but maneuverability obviously suffered as Orion desperately tried to steer them through the massive branches. Much of the maneuvering time that would have allowed him to pick a safer landing ground had been wasted in his neck of nothing dive to catch her and he hadn’t had sufficient altitude left to bleed off his airspeed. Branches whizzed past them as the plunged through the canopy. For a moment it seemed like Orion might manage the impossible feat and then the wing of the flight suit clipped a branch with a crack like a rifle report. The world corkscrewed and there was another crack as Orion hit a branch, his armored back taking the brunt of the impact and then they tumbled down, slapping against the limbs of trees over fifty meters tall. Orion lashed out with his arms in a primitive effort at parkour as Annika clung to his chest and screamed. They hit the ground with a crash, Annika landing atop the armored knight with enough force to drive the breath from her lungs and silence her scream.

For a moment they lay on the loamy forest floor as Annika frantically tried to draw breath. A rain of blade like needles rained from the trees above like winter snows and the shrieks of irritated forest creatures slowly died away. Annika finally made her chest work and gulped down a lungful of the cool moist forest air. It was mildly inappropriate to be laying atop the knight, but it was several more moments before she could force her bruised arms to release Orion and roll onto her back staring up at the hole they had torn in the canopy. Blood trickled into her eye for a shallow cut on her eyebrow, but it was a miracle that she was alive, much less able to use all of her limbs. She tried to form a prayer of thanks but all she managed was an insightful:

“Ouch.”

@POOHEAD189

The Sinful Stars

Annika glanced back at the city behind her. Orion’s quest certainly seemed doomed. Rumor had certainly spread regarding Rochfort. It had been big news in the first few weeks of the voyage of the Farsi, the al-Malik cruiser that had brought her to Gwennyth. Debate had been furious and wide ranging. Some claimed that Rochfort had been touched by the hand of the Pancreator himself and was burning away evil, others that the man had lost his mind and bathed in the blood of his slaughtered subjects. It probably made sense to take him up on his offer, to slip away into the crown and keep her rendezvous with Logan Christopher. What one man could do to quell a rebellion was beyond her comprehension but one thing was certain, if someone needed spiritual guidance, it was Orion Pentecost.

“We are taught to look for the hand of the Pancreator in paradox,” she told him as they slipped through the security cordon and onto the tarmac.

“Perhaps this task is such a sign,” she added as they approached the runt shuttle. A few crewmen in shapeless gray jumpsuits were making the final preparations for take off. They stiffened at the sight of Orion and one of them pulled a lever which lowered a ramp to the deck. Annika followed the knight up the steps and into the shuttle. Though it could comfortably hold dozens of passengers, it had been reserved for a scion of the planet's ruling house. Low, Orion's stock might be with the bishop and his liege but he was still a Hawkwood.

“Don’t you have any equipment?” Orion asked, glancing back at Annika. She shook her head slightly.

“We are a mendicant order,” she explained, “we dont accrue much in the way of possessions.” She tapped her palm on the leather satchel partially concealed by her robes. Without preamble she sat down on the deck resting her straight back against a bulkhead.
@POOHEAD189

The Sinful Stars

“I am pleased to meet you Sir Pentecost,” Annika began but abandoned it immediately as too formal, “Orion that is.” They moved down the cobbled street away from the cathedral. Lamps of some kind of photo luminescent crystal cast a soft illumination over the nearly empty streets. Once they had been much brighter but since the fall of the Second Republic the technology to replace the bulbs had been lost and, like the stars, they were slowly fading. In the distance there was the occasional yell of anger and crack of gunfire as the aggrieved party of the Judgment sought to redress themselves by one method or another.

“As for my order, I fear the Orthodox and the Avestites enjoy painting us with a fanciful brush. We are simply clergy who believe that one can save one's soul through individual effort as well as the Pancreator’s grace. We also believe that the Pancreator can be found in exploring the mysteries of the universe rather than on our knees in prayer,” she explained. She doubted that Orion was deeply interested in theology so she kept the explanation simple. Truthfully she too found the theological debates somewhat tedious, it had always been obvious to her that the Pancreator’s miracles were to be revealed through the miraculous rather than staring at the mundane. The fact that there were horrors as well only made the search more important, with no risk came no reward. Out of politeness she kept her psychic senses shut off, unwilling to pry into the thoughts of her new charge.

They turned a corner into a small plaza where a body lay sprawled across a fountain depicting a man on horseback in a martial pose. Blood gleamed in the moonlight from a cut which had spilled grey ropes of intestines from the man’s belly. A few onlookers watched carefully from restaurants and taverns but this was far from an unusual occurrence on the Night of Judgement. She considered her next words carefully, unwilling to give Orion the wrong idea.

“Where are we being sent, and why if I may ask. From what I can put together the bishop expects you to get into some kind of trouble, maybe even intends that you do. He must have been instructed to provide you with a confessor and seized me so he didn’t have to entangle one of his own people in what he expects to be a scandal.” That was speculation, but it wasn’t a huge leap from what she had seen and sensed in the bishops chamber. Pentecost’s cybernetic eyes marked him as a radical among a fairly conservative group. If your eye causes you to sin, better that you pluck it out and all that. Cranmer probably hoped that her addition would not only spare one of his own acolytes, but possibly push Orion over the edge into something that might be considered heretical.
@POOHEAD189

The Sinful Stars

Annika turned to examine her new charge with some interest. Cranmers comments suddenly made a good deal more sense. This knight, Orion Pentecost apparently was a handsome man with the statuesque features she had come to associate with the Hawkwood family. The al-Malik had always been cosmopolitan but since the accession of Alexis to the Imperial Throne there had been an increased number of intermarriages. No scion of one of the great noble houses could claim to be ignorant of politics, but it had never been of particular interest to Annika. Still she understood that most of those marriages had been somewhat disappointing as Alexis had distanced himself from his family since taking the throne. To the cultured al-Malik the Hawkwood had a rugged, almost brutish marshall simplicity, something that had served them very well in the wars preceding Alexius’ succession. Orion certainly fit the mould with a muscled armored frame and chiseled jaw. The electronic eye was simple and obvious, something that would have been crude in the League friendly halls of the al-Malik was none the less surprising to find in a Hawkwood fief where ties to the League and their borderline heretical tech was far less common.

“The blessings of the Pancreator be upon you Sir,” Annika said formally, the slightly musical lint of her Isktar accent particularly prominent in the formulaic phrasing of the blessing.

“Get out of my sight,” the bishop sneered, sitting down and pointedly returning to his paperwork.

Annika exchanged a look with Orion and then offered a formal bow to Cranmer. The bishop made a flicking gesture with his right hand sending droplets of ink spattering over a nearby decree about the evils of Pagan Freethinkers. Annika shared a look with Orion who gave a somewhat less respectful bow and then turned and lead the way out of the office and into the knave of the cathedral.

Although it was by now local night, Gwyennth’s bright spring moons poured silvery light through the great stained glass window in the nave of the Cathedral. Beams of light colored gorgeous rose and gold shone from the ceiling painting the Celestial Flame on the stones of the basilica. Even the Orthodox, hidebound and half blind as they were, did not seem to be completely blind to beauty.

“My apologies,” Annika tried again, “it appears that neither of us are in Bishop Cranmer’s good graces. I am Sister Annika.” It was not necessary to mention her house as that would have been a sin of pride.

“The bishop told you to get out of the cathedral,” snapped a voice from behind them. Annika turned to find the obnoxious novice who had accosted her in the square. Despite her best efforts she felt her anger rising.

“That is quite enough sirrah,” she snapped, her voice like a whip. The novice recoiled as though slapped, but after a moment his shock was replaced with indignation.

“How dare you…” he began but Annika didn’t allow him to continue. Instead she stalked towards him, eyes blazing. She wasn’t a physically imposing woman but the look on her face and the fury in her eyes gave her a presence she would otherwise have lacked.

“Perhaps things work differently among the Orthodox, but in my order one speaks with respect,” she observed in a deadly voice. Confusion and anger warred on the novices face for a moment.

“According to the Edict of…” he began but she cut him off with a sharp gesture.

“According to the Edict members of the Eskatonic order have to obey members of the other sects of the same rank, yes. However, as you appear to be deaf as well stupid, allow me to remind you that your own Bishop just granted me the rank of Deacon,” she blazed. The novices face flushed as the realization took hold.

“If you do not apologize at once I will file charges with the Curia. As you are probably too ignorant to know, cases are decided by members of the sect of the senior member in any dispute. I suspect that will mean a trial would not go well for you.”

“The bishop…” the youth stuttered.

“Is not here, I am the ranking member of the clergy here and if you are not out of my sight in the next thirty seconds I will have you whipped for insolence.”

The novice broke and fled, the fall of his heavy leather shoes ringing on the stone floor. Annika turned back to her new charge, her anger melting into embarrassment.

“My apologies Sir,” she repeated, “it has been rather a long day.”

@POOHEAD189