Once again, another installment in the transtemporal
adventures of a certain well-known pigtailed martial
artist!
Disclaimer: The trolls in Great Britain at Games Workshop
own Warhammer 40,000; I don't. I don't own the Ranma
characters, either.
The Emperor's Hand
Chapter Four: Confrontation
"I don't care if he saved the life of the Avatar
himself! The Mon-Keigh is not coming into my shrine without
coming through me!"
This was the second time Ranma had heard the words
'Mon-Keigh'. While it technically meant 'Non-Eldar', it
also carried severe connotations. He could almost hear the
legend hidden within the words. A legend of cannibalistic,
misshapen monstrosities, who subjugated the Eldar in time
immemorial.
Teldurin, the Exarch of the Shrine of the Howling
Banshee, stood resolute before the door of her shrine.
Unlike the other warriors the Human had seen, she kept her
mask on, even out of combat. He still did not understand
that part of it.
"Honored Exarch, this young man is a warrior. It is
said that he defeated over twenty Orks at the Blasted Patch
of Blood-Soaked Sand, and had the restraint to not kill a
single one. He even defeated a dreadnought, though none can
say exactly how." The speaker was Eldaveril, the daughter
of Ardallan, and the Banshee whose life Ranma had saved
earlier. "If these tales are not enough for you, and they
come from the lips of Farseer Dalhavadar, himself, then
what is? He desires to train, and we have the space. Fewer
and fewer come to our shrine, of late."
The Exarch turned to face the pigtailed martial
artist. He wasn't sure, but he felt that she was appraising
him. Subconsciously, his chest puffed out a little farther,
and he flexed his arms a little. "He must face me in the
Fiol Brwdyr, the Ritual Combat."
"Just say when and where," he boasted.
"Here, in this hall. Clear it!" With her words, the
few passersby scattered into other doors, and through
Webway portals to other parts of the Craftworld. Soon, only
Teldurin, Eldaveril, and Ranma stood there. Facing off
against his opponent, he bowed, then dropped into a neutral
stance. The Exarch simply looked at him, then at the
younger Banshee. With a nod from Eldaveril, she dove at the
Human.
The first thing Ranma noticed when the Exarch charged
was that her battle cry seemed to scream not only in his
ears, but as a blazing hot power into the brain. It
distracted him at the last second, able to defend, but
unable to counterattack. As her body fell at him following a
leap even he would have been hard pressed to duplicate, he
deliberately fell back, planting his feet in her belly, flipping her.
He kipupped to his feet, and saw that she had already landed on hers.
He had to get the initiative on her.
As she began another charge, he met her half way,
cutting off her war shout in mid-scream with a kick to the
face. She tumbled in the air, landing heavily on her side.
He didn't want to do this, but she wasn't really a girl. At
least, he could tell himself that as long as she wore the
mask.
A growl issued from the Exarch's throat this time, not
a shout. Dropping deep into a low stance, she began to
advance upon her foe. She could not let this Mon-Keigh into
her Shrine. If he did so, then its sanctity could be
violated. He was Human, and therefore dishonorable. There
must be no mercy for the defiler of her Shrine.
Ranma circled her, then darted forward with a rapid-
fire series of hand strikes. He did not push to the speed
of his Chestnut Fist, but still exceeded the speed most
fighters could ever achieve. He watched as his first
several blows were parried or evaded, but more and more
started getting through. He had the measure of her now, and
stood back, losing all pretense of a stance.
*He thinks he has me beaten by those blows. He does
not know the wrath of an Exarch!* thought Teldurin. She
dove at him high, then dropped low with a foot sweep. It
was a perfect strike, but all she struck was air. A light
sound behind her, and she spun, only to meet a foot on her
chin. Spinning back the other way from the force of it, she
continued it on into a backfist. Once again, she felt
nothing connect.
Standing on the sidelines, Eldaveril was struck
speechless. The flowing grace of the fight was easy to see,
but the speed of the moves was something she could not
follow. The flips and spins used by the Human reminded her
of... but there could be no connection. The Harlequins were
a faction almost thirty thousand years old, and their style
had been taught to them by the Laughing God, himself. And,
the boy didn't even have the Flip Belt to assist him. But the
evidence was frightening.
Ranma dodged a combination of punches and kicks with a
series of back handsprings, then dropped low, and kicked
high with his left leg. Catching the underside of the
Exarch's thigh after a kick, he shoved with that foot, firmly
planting her on her back. He flipped forward, and stopped
his last strike less than half an inch from her throat.
"Gotcha."
Teldurin could not believe it. She had been beaten.
And by a mere stripling of a boy. At his age, Eldar
children were just beginning to learn how to read the
incredibly complex language they shared with the other
Craftworlds. And, here, he had defeated an Exarch, with
over three centuries of battle experience, as easily as she
could defeat one of her students. Her humiliation was
almost complete; it would finish when the Mon-Keigh set
foot inside the Shrine. And then, thanks to the Infinity
Circuit, all in the Craftworld would know of her dishonor.
The pigtailed martial artist lowered a hand to his
opponent. Grudgingly, she accepted it, and led the way into
her shrine, head hung low.
The footsteps stopped behind her. She turned, and was
shocked. The Mon-Keigh had stopped at the precipice, and
removed his shoes. Now, he bowed low, and clapped twice.
She could feel the approval of the spirits within. But what
could a Mon-Keigh know of honor? Did he know of honor? And
if he could, then what of the other Mon-Keigh?
**********************************************
At the core of the Craftworld, and stretching
throughout its environs, lay the Infinity Circuit. Within,
the spirits of fallen Eldar sat waiting for the call for
advice, or the call to war. They could return to the Spirit
Stone, taken from their breast at the moment of their
death, and be placed within a Wraithguard, or Wraithlord,
towering robotic constructs of psychoplastics, and fight
once more alongside their companions and descendants.
In days of peace, the Infinity Circuit was the hub of
communications for the Eldar of the Craftworld. And, now,
the message being sent throughout, was of the victory, and
honor, of Ranma.
Thoughts transferred between spirits as they flowed
through one another in the Infinity Circuit. Ardallan,
meditating in the Dome of the Crystal Seers, heard their
thoughts. He smiled.
**********************************************
The school dress she had worn for three days was
hanging out to dry, and Akane was finally coming out of her
shell of guilt. Rifling through her closet, she pulled out
a fresh dress, and began to get ready for school.
Breakfast was a quiet, subdued affair. Genma didn't
even try to steal anybody's food, not that he really could.
Since Nodoka was visiting for the rest of the week, he was
stuck with bamboo shoots, leftovers, and Akane's failed
cooking experiments.
The walk to school was frighteningly quiet. She could
even notice the missing footsteps on the fence beside her.
Twice, she stopped, and glanced up. She then sighed, and
continued walking.
Once she reached the gates of Furinkan, she prepared
herself for one of the constants of Nerima. Sure enough, a
single, perfect rose flew straight at her. She sidestepped
lightly, and watched as it continued past her, to land on
the sidewalk. "Go away, Kuno-sempai."
"Alas," began the kendoist, "is seems that the magic
of the accursed sorcerer, Saotome, is strong enough to hold
thee, even in his absence. But do not fear! I, the Red
Storm of Furinkan High shall free you from that..."
BLAAAAM! "Honestly, he can't even understand me when I
tell him right to his face." Noticing her older sister
walking up to the downed young man, probably to drag him
off to the Nurse's Station, she asked, "So he's changed his
title again?"
"Yup. He's been doing it for a while, and by now probably thinks
that he can beat Ranma if he found the right
nickname," Nabiki quipped. "By the way, didn't clobbering
Kuno make you feel at least a little better?"
Akane grinned evilly. "Yeah, it did. Now, let's get in
before the..." BBBRRRRIIIIINNNNGGGG!! "...late bell. Oh
well."
By this time, Akane was almost comfortable standing in the hall
carrying buckets of water. Nabiki was at the Nurse's Station, and so
did not have to wait with her. This time, however, she didn't have
Ranma to talk to. Funny, after the first few weeks here, they actually
began to talk a little with the buckets on their shoulders. Nothing
really serious, but little chit chat to pass the time. Of course, the
conversation usually degenerated into an insult war shortly before the
end of the period, but it was something to do.
School just didn't feel right without him. There was always a
sense of expectation, as everyone wondered what would happen to him
next. Now, it was like that gap you feel as a kid, when one of your
teeth has just fallen out. Your tongue keeps poking into the gap,
reminding you constantly of what's gone.
Lunchtime eventually rolled by, and two familiar voices called
Akane's name. "Yes?"
Turning around, she saw Ranma's friends, Hiroshi and Daisuke.
"Hey, Akane, you better watch out. Kodachi seems to blame you for what
happened to Ranma," said Daisuke.
"Yeah, and she's even farther over the edge than she used to be.
If that's possible. Oh, by the way, what was that, anyway? Daisuke an'
I saw somethin' and we don't understand what we saw," added Hiroshi.
"You mean you saw it?" she asked them.
"Yeah, why?" asked Hiroshi.
She just hugged the both of them. "Thank you. It means you cared
for Ranma as friends. And I'm glad he's got friends that aren't
involved in all this crazy mess."
"Um, we kinda sorta got involved," muttered Daisuke, blushing beet
red.
She let them go. "What do you mean?"
"We, um, were talkin' about it," began Hiroshi.
"And Kodachi sorta overheard us. She's flipped completely, sayin'
she's gonna rescue her 'Ranma-Sama' from you," continued Daisuke.
The youngest Tendou daughter cracked her knuckles. "Oh really.
Well, we'll see who needs rescuing if she tries anything. Thanks for
the warning, guys." She turned, and headed off to sit with her friends.
The Terrible Two looked at each other, then back at the departing
girl. "You know, she never did explain what it was we saw," said
Hiroshi.
"Yeah. And what was with the hug?" queried Daisuke.
"I don't know," answered his friend.
"Not that I'm complaining, you understand."
"Of course."
**********************************************
The Shaman staggered down the stairs somewhere around noon, still
bleary-eyed from too much sleep. The Nekohanten was extremely busy, and
he was treated to a display of precision and balance, as Mousse and
Shampoo called the orders back to Cologne. In return, she tossed the
bowls back to them, which they caught and placed without missing a
drop. The overall effect could not have been better if it had been
choreographed beforehand. He watched, amused, until the lunch crowd
died down.
Approaching the male Amazon, he bowed slightly. "Mu Tsu, I thank
you for the use of your room. It was most generous of you."
Still a little sore from sleeping in his cage, Mousse only nodded,
and smiled slightly, as if sharing a secret joke. Turning to Cologne,
the Shaman bowed again, slightly deeper. "Matriarch Khu Lon, I greet
you this morning. I really hate to be so rude, but to determine what
has happened, I must speak with the Tendou girl. Do you perhaps know
where she could be found this morn?"
Cologne nodded. "She attends school about this time of day.
Mousse, show him how to find it." She thought, knowing he could read
her mind, *I dare not send Shampoo - the last time she went there, they
threatened to charge the Nekohanten for the damage to the wall. She
seems to have an aversion to doors.*
The ancient young man nodded, allowing half a smile to show.
"Well, then, Mu Tsu, lead on."
When they reached the gates of Furinkan High, Mousse motioned.
"She's in there. However, I don't know what class she's in right now."
"Don't worry. I can find her, now." He turned to the master of
hidden weapons. "I am sorry you had to spend the night in your cage for
my sake, Mu Tsu. Do not worry, it will be several weeks before you will
have to do it again."
"How do you know?"
"Simple, my friend," said the Shaman. "I asked her not to do it.
And she listens to her teachers."
"What did you teach her?" asked Mousse.
"History," answered the other young man. "I will see you anon."
With that, he turned, and entered the schoolyard.
**********************************************
Miss Hinako bounced back and forth across the chalkboard, still
suffering the sugar rush from her lunch. Of course, it was only five
chocolate bars, half a dozen chocolate chip cookies, half of a banana
creme pie, a cheese sandwich, and a Jolt cola. So, the buzz would only
last another half hour. It was almost one thirty, after all.
The door to her classroom opened, and a young man walked in.
"Excuse me! Are you part of my class?" she asked, hands on her hips,
pouting.
"Actually, no," he answered.
"Then get to your own class! These boys and girls are here to
learn, and they can't do that with you disrupting me!"
"Young lady, I meant no disrespect. But I must speak with Tendou
Akane," he stated.
"Young lady? I'm a woman!" she scowled.
"Of course, child." The smile on his face showed some small
measure of disbelief.
"Child? Alright, mister, that's it! Happo 5-yen Satsu!" Popping a
coin out of nowhere, she initiated the drain of the boy's chi. Energy
flowed from him, and filled her, aging her from eleven to twenty-five
in an instant. "Now," she began, in a husky voice, "just...wha?"
He merely stood there, apparently unaffected by the attack. "I am
sorry, child, but I am sustained by other means. As I said," he turned
towards the class, "I am seeking Tendou Akane. I must speak with her
about the manifestation she beheld a scant few days ago."
The heir to the Tendou school stood. "I'm Tendou Akane," she said.
"You may call me the Shaman. My student, Khu Lon, does." He bowed
slightly. "Shall we go someplace more conducive to open speech about
the incident?"
"Umm, okay. That is, if it's okay with you, Miss Hinako."
The voluptuous teacher just stared at the young man. Even the
mighty Happosai, the most evil man in Tokyo, was felled almost
instantly by her attack, and he seemed totally unfazed. "Uh huh," she
mumbled, nodding. When the two left, she shook her head, and snapped
out of it. Seeing the girls fuming, and the guys drooling, she slapped
her hand on the desk. "Class! Attention! Now, where was I? Oh, yes. If
the leading indicators of the Meiji Restoration were..."
**********************************************
Akane was not quite sure where to talk to this strange man as she
began walking, so she started the conversation on the way to, well,
wherever. "Well, um, what do you want me to tell you that I didn't tell
Cologne?"
"First, I would like to know if you can tell me what you saw
through the gate. What you could see on the other side," he replied. He
carried himself with absolute confidence, but with a patience that
mitigated this and prevented it from reaching arrogance, and a faint
hint of a haunting sadness never left his eyes.
"Well, it looked like night time. There were thousands of stars
out, and I thought I saw a patch of sand near the bottom." She spread
her hands. "Other than that, I really didn't see anything. Was I
supposed to?"
"Perhaps, perhaps not. This hand that caught Ranma, how large was
it?"
Akane pondered. "Well, it was easily large enough to hold him
completely covered when it closed into a fist. I'd say it was large
enough that the little finger was about the same size as Ranma."
"And how high was he when the hand took him?"
She blushed. "I, um, really don't know. He was sort of..."
"Alas, no sooner is the wretched Saotome gone, than his spell doth
bind one of his familiar demons upon thee!" As soon as the words
reached the pair of them, Kuno popped up from who knows where. "Aroint
thee, thou rapscallion, and face the Red Storm of Furinkan High!"
"Wow, he's kept the same nickname the whole day," muttered Akane.
"Must be because Ranma hasn't beaten him again yet."
"Tendo-san, who is this buffoon that has interrupted us?" asked
the Shaman.
"Buffoon? Why, foul demon, I am the noble Kuno Tatewaki, reknown
star in the world of kendo, and captain of the Furinkan High kendo
club!" He shifted from his ridiculously dramatic pose into a fighting
stance. "And I am the one who shall rescue the heart of the beautiful
tigress, Tendou Akane, from the foul enchantments of the sorcerer,
Saotome Ranma!"
"Oh, Kuno, get a CLUE!" The last word was punctuated by a
perfectly executed kick, sending the kendoist high into the sky.
"Um, Akane, so, how high was Ranma when the hand took him?"
She paused, watching Kuno's flight. "Oh, about that high."
"Okay, I think I get it." The young man waited a second. "He's
coming down, now. Okay, about that high?"
"Yeah that was about it," she answered.
"Very well. Please, since I seem to have drawn you out of your
edifice of education, will you accompany me to the Nekohanten? We must
discuss this with Khu Lon."
To one side, a voice rang out. "Pretty good hang time that time,
Akane." Ukyou stepped up beside the two. "So, you're the one Cologne
said might be able to help?"
"Yes, I am, Kuonji Ukyou. And you may call me the Shaman."
The okonomiyaki chef narrowed her eyes. "How did you know my
name?" she asked.
"Oh, I know many things," he answered cryptically. "Besides, the
only other girl that wears a boy's school uniform that Cologne
mentioned lives over in Tomobiki. Never met her, though."
"Um, right. Listen, Sugar, I heard the offer you made Akane. Does
that apply to me, too?" She shuffled her feet a little, then looked him
in the eye, almost challengingly. "I want to find out what happened to
my Ran-chan."
Akane started to get a little angry. "Ukyou, he's not your...
well, okay, he's not _just_ your Ran-chan. He... he's my Ran-chan,
too." She blushed a little after saying this.
Ukyou looked her in the eye, and her mouth wavered a little. "I
know, Akane. I know."
**********************************************
Farseer Dalhavadar found himself in the chambers of the High
Farseer of Valdur Avendel, the noble Ailunaraven, Bright Flame of the
Forge. With them were several other Farseers. Some were younger than
Dalhavadar, most were older, but all bowed in the presence of the
Craftworld's guiding hand.
"We cannot deny what the Infinity Circuit has revealed," insisted
Dalhavadar. "Not only did the boy show honor to the Shrine, he paid
respects to the spirits present. That clearly shows that he is more
than we expected of the Humans."
"Mere superstition from a primitive, coincidentally appeasing the
Infinity Circuit. He probably thought he was appeasing demons, or
something of that ilk." Gadremon was infamous for his hatred of Humans.
"The Mon-Keigh could never understand the truth."
"One would think that the Aspect Warrior's account of the Fiol
Brwdyr, and the fighting style of the boy, would be fascinating enough
to allow him to remain a short time further," stated Hallaravil, one of
the older Farseers.
Valimparanor, a Farseer who used his powers as a Bonesinger to
sing the psychoplastic called Wraithbone into the Eldar war machines
spoke up. "And then there is the matter of his abrupt appearance on the
Blasted Patch of Blood-Soaked Sand, his strange attack upon the Ork
dreadnought, and his memory loss. I sense the work of a powerful force,
and one not aligned with the powers of Chaos."
"Great," groused Gadremon. "He is either sent by the Emperor as a
spy, or the Laughing God of the harlequins as a joke. Either way, it
bodes ill."
"Perhaps not a spy, Farseer," said Dalhavadar, "but perhaps a
mediator. One not here to ask for help in words, but in example. There
is no guile in the boy. He tried to tell me he was not too
uncomfortable here, even as his eyes darted to and fro."
"Feh. He is too much like his namesake, the Anial Gorwydd, or Wild
Horse, to ever be more than a nuisance to us, and a drain on our
resources. Have you seen how much food he eats?" Gadremon pointed
directly at Hallaravil.
"Yes, and it is not as much as those pirates you called your house
guard," accused Valimparanor. "They ate half the Craftworld out of huse
and home before you sent them back. Whatever Craftworld they hailed
from, they were too stuffed to fight."
Before Gadremon could respond, Old Ailunaraven spoke. "It matters
not how much the boy eats. From what I have seen, he will be a boon,
not a burden, to us. Go, Dalhavadar, watch him. Report to the Council
of Farseers whenever you can."
A dark gong sounded. All four began to look towards the only door
in the room. A lone Eldar rushed in, and began a rapid-fire stream of
the Eldar tongue. "Great Farseers! I greet you, but the Craftworld has
gone to war! Even now, the Exarchs make their good-byes with the Young
King, and he begins the ritual ablution. The Orks have allied with the
Tyrannid to attack Blasted Patch of Bloodstained Sand, and draw off
that planet's minerals. We have less than a month and a half to drive
the beasts away, lest they destroy the entire biosphere.
"Then we shall wait for another day. Gather the Guardian Squads,
and summon the Aspect Warriors. We are not finished until we dwell
within our spirit stones, and our descendants walk beside the
Wraithlords in battle. Now, MOVE!"
There we go, the next chapter done. Hope you like it. By the way, the
Cannon I'm using for the storyline in the WH40K sections is based off
of information in most of the recent game books, and a prehistory from
the older supplements.
=====
- Valandar the Red of the Empty Tankard
Captain of the Guard of the Barony of the Far Woods
Empire of the Iron Mountains
http://members.tripod.com/~Valandar/fanfic.html
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