Chapter Text
He didn’t know how long he drifted. The silence slipped into every pore of his being, his soul, his marrow, everything that made him him. There were colors, but he had no name for them. Shadows flickered across his field of vision. If he looked down, he didn’t see hands or a body (though he knew he had them. How, though? How had he had such things? Why did he feel unbalanced, unmoored?), but he felt the memory of flesh pressing against him.
It just… was. No beginning, no end. Everything and nothing, pressed against him at once. Perfectly ordered chaos, dancing around him to music he couldn’t hear. There was no breath in his lungs, nor blood pulsing through an ethereal chest. His body shook with memories of distant battle past, but he couldn’t reach for them. He didn’t even know where he was or why he’d want to leave this place.
He thought there was supposed to be someone waiting for him. A warrior, a soldier, a leader, the savior of humanity, his divine god king made spirit, but all he saw was nothingness and light dancing like he was trapped at the bottom of a river. He would have fought, would have struggled, yet instinct told him such efforts were meaningless.
Instead, he drifted, his soul caught on currents and eddies he couldn’t understand.
A little starlight filtered through the haze. It lingered on his spectral body and pooled where his bones used to be. He watched it, not understanding what it was, and recoiled when something brushed his side.
He turned, eyes wide. Chest tight. Looking for the thing – whatever it was – that dared invade his sacred space.
(Was this space sacred? His God Emperor wasn’t here. Could anything be sacred without Him?)
A soft, gentle voice caught his ears as he was pulled toward the surface.
“It’s not your time, son of Man. We have use for you yet.”
He thought he saw four glowing golden eyes before all he knew was starlit darkness and bone crushing agony.
*****
Bringing something back from the dead wasn’t a trick Ghazghkull Mag Uruk Thraka pulled all that often unless he was bringing back Makari. For one, Gork and Mork didn’t like it all that much and, for another, it was a right pain in the ass. The ritual was one they had looted from someone (probably not ‘Umie, come to think of it, because those gits took a real dim view on resurrection, and also probably not Knife-Ear. Ghazghkull didn’t really remember where he’d gotten this from, nor did he care) and they had simply turned it around until it did what they needed.
Bringing Makari back was easy. All he had to do was do it. Raising something a bit more complex than a grot took skill, kunning, and supplies.
To start with, you needed several corpses. Preferably fresh, preferably sentient, preferably not chewed on (could be hard with a Waaagh of his size, but he made do), and preferably the same gender as the fresh corpse you were trying to raise. Then there was the chanting. Making a circle with points in the six cardinal directions. Dumping out a zogging ton of salt over everything, saying the magic words, and waiting until it did its shit and his grod came back from the dead.
When this was over, Ghazghkull was going to find Angron and krump him good. He already had a plan for that one, but phase one required getting old Bale Eye back into fighting shape. Phase two required finding a git who probably had the power to do this all on her lonesome and convincing her to help.
Ghazghkull was aware that he was playing with fire. This was one of those things that the weirdboyz weren’t all that fond of (something about it being decidedly un-orkish and unnatural) and probably had a high risk of burning the whole thing down. That was fine. Ghazghkull was willing to accept the risk and also knew that his ship wasn’t about to catch fire.
Bale Eye’s twisted body lay in the circle, surrounded by mounds of looted salt, six dead ‘Umie slaves (killed especially for this ritual. The runtherders weren’t pleased, but oh well), symbols that made an ork’s head hurt if he stared at it for too long, and three slightly panicked looking weirdboyz. Ghazghkull had the feeling that this was about to go south. That was fine – krumping daemons was always good fun.
“You sure this is gunna work?” Makari asked from the sidelines. Their voice sounded a little nervous. “Itz, uh, smokin’ a bit.”
“Shut up, you,” Ghazghkull muttered. He crouched beside the circle and poked Bale Eye’s stiff chest. “Why ain’t he up yet?!”
The bravest weirdboy shrugged.
This was going to work. It was going to work. Even if Ghazghkull had to reach into the Warp and drag Bale Eye’s soul out to mate with his body all by his lonesome.
Something above them groaned. The room dimmed as if the power was cut. Ghazghkull paused. That was new. He turned, trying to seek out the source of the failure, when a low wind kicked up, followed by the stench of burnt blood and electricity.
“You are a fool.” The words, spoken in a low snarl, pierced the air.
“I want ‘im back.” Ghazghkull pointed at Bale Eye’s body as a lioness slowly materialized inside the ship. “So give ‘im here or I’m gunna make you.”
She was massive. Her ethereal pelt was covered in scars and golden blood dripped from a gash on her side. She had four glowing golden eyes and a way about her that suggested fighting her wouldn’t end well. The other orks cowered away from her (understandable, because this was something other than a daemon), but Ghazghkull stood firm. He looked her in the eye as he positioned his considerable bulk for a fight.
“You insult me.” Her voice was low and dangerous. “You called my name and offer me innocent blood instead of lives shed in battle.”
“Huh.” Ghazghkull nodded. “Well, they didn’t say –”
“Enough!” she snarled. Light shattered and someone screamed. “I should kill you just for that!”
An ordinary ork would have retreated by now, but Ghazghkull was no ordinary ork.
“I got dis from sommat who told me that I’s raise ‘im,” he pointed at Bale Eye, “from the dead. An’ a Chaos git krumped him before I could! Now give ‘im back!”
The lioness’s lips peeled back in disgust. “He reeks of false gods and bloodshed.”
“Dat’s why ‘e’s my grod. So give ‘im back.”
“Why should I?” the lioness asked. “You called me here, from the World Between Worlds, to this disgraceful shitheap of a ship. You insult me with innocent blood! I am a god of warriors, Lord of Those Who Walk the Veil, Lady of Smoke and Flame, and you call me here? To play fetch? For a human that would threaten my people if he could?”
“Dat’s about right,” Ghazghkull said. “I want me grod.”
The lioness narrowed her eyes. Those titles meant something to someone. Ghazghkull didn’t care. He wanted Bale Eye, and he had it on good authority that this lioness could do that. The cultist who’d given him the ritual had called her World Walker, though Ghazghkull suspected that wasn’t her name. Her name was probably in the words he’d read out – twisting words that were melodic and harsh at the same time and fell back on each other like grots trying to escape punishment.
She growled softly, her tail twitching. The other orks shrunk away from her. She wasn’t exactly a daemon and didn’t act like the Chaos Gods. She was something else, something older, and was probably a bit more powerful. Her muscles coiled under her pelt. Wicked looking claws scraped at the ship’s decking.
“You are very brave, foolish, or both,” she said. Her ears pinned against her skull. “But I have no quarrel with your kind, nor do I wish another war with your gods. I will carry the souls you gave me to the River. A life for a life – the balance is kept.” She paused and when she spoke, her words carried rumbling thunder. “The next time you do this, bring me warriors. Not slaves.”
Thunder cracked and lightning flashed in the ship. Ghazghkull stumbled backwards, his ears ringing. He thought he saw one of the dead ‘Umies twitch as the lioness’s form seared itself across his retinas.
When he could see again, she was gone. So were the dead ‘Umies.
Makari collected themself as they waited for whatever happened next. “That went well. I think she likes ya, boss.”
Ghazghkull ignored them. He opened his gob, about to ask what was going to happen next, when a force smacked into him. It sent him flying into the wall, denting the metal, and scattered everything and everyone in the room. Ghazghkull pulled himself out of the mess. He snarled, about to run into the whirlwind, when the lioness appeared in the middle of it.
She held something silver in her mouth. It hurt if he looked at it for too long, but something told Ghazghkull to hold his gaze.
The lioness growled again. She dropped the silver thing over Bale Eye, then stepped back.
“He will be weak.” The lioness fixed him with her glare. “You’re lucky I found him instead of his god. We weren’t done with him yet and we won’t be for some time. Have your slaves care for him. They’ll know what to do.” She bared her teeth again, her body vibrating with barely suppressed rage. “And if you call me again without the proper offerings, I will destroy you and every member of your species I can find. Am I understood?”
One of the weirdboyz moved towards her, like he wanted to touch her side. The lioness snarled. She whipped around and raked her claws across his body. The boy screamed right before he dissolved into ash. The lioness turned back to Ghazghkull, her gaze murderous. The wound on her side still bled and Ghazghkull wondered what had caused it. What would happen if he fought the being that wounded a god?
The lioness smiled, the expression twisted and unnatural on her broad, flat face. “Don’t even think about it. My sister isn’t as kind as I am. If you call her name, be prepared for death.”
“Iz ‘e back yet?” Ghazghkull asked. “Or is you gunna do another windstorm?”
“He’s back,” the lioness said as she started fading away. “Regrettably.”
Ghazghkull watched her go. He made a mental note to remember the chant and her name (if he could parse it out. But that was what Bale Eye was for. ‘Umies were better at the reading thing than orks) in case he needed to do this trick again. It was properly kunning to have a god at your side. She was strong, too, seeing as she could turn a weirdboy to ash just for looking at her wrong. And Ghazghkull could get her warriors instead of slaves. That was easy – all he had to do was krump a few Astartes. If she wanted warriors, she would get warriors.
‘Umie warriors, Knife-Ear warriors, Fishboy warriors, any sort of sentient warriors he could get, he was going to give her. He just needed to find her name first. Whatever her name was, it was bound to be more ork-y than World Walker.
“Boss!” Bullets yelled. “’e’s movin’!”
The Blood Axe pointed to Bale Eye’s salt covered corpse in the middle of the circle. Bale Eye’s fingers twitched, then his body shuddered. Ghazghkull watched in interest. It was like seeing a hulk come online after being powered down for a bit too long. You had to make sure all the parts where were they were supposed to be and nothing was too fucked up for the mekboyz. Bale Eye seemed to be doing the same thing.
In Bale Eye’s case, he was missing his Klaw. That one was safely out of the way for when the old Commissar could be trusted again.
After what seemed like forever, Bale Eye pushed himself up and winced.
“What the hell?” he asked.
“’e’s back!” Bullets whooped. “That weird shit worked, Boss, you can do it again!”
Bale Eye froze. A thousand expressions crossed his face – fear, horror, exhaustion, consternation, and something approaching resignation. He didn’t seem to notice that he was naked (not that the orks cared. That seemed to be a ‘Umie concern) or that he was nearly buried in as much salt as the orks could loot on short notice. It was hard to keep a corpse fresh, after all, if you weren’t exposing it to cold space.
“I didn’t ask you,” Ghazghkull said. He probably needed to speak High Gothic for a bit. There was no telling how much of Bale Eye’s brain was rattled around. “Hi.”
“No, no, no, no.” Bale Eye tried to push himself up, only to collapse. “This cannot be real, it’s a dream, I’m hallucinating, it’s a trick, you are not here!”
His voice rose like a Squig did when you stepped on it. Ghazghkull wondered what the fuss was about. Bale Eye was dead. Now he was alive. The lioness seemed like she was the nice sort. She honored the terms of their deal and only stabbed them in the back when they tried to stab her. She could be trusted. He could be trusted. They were going to go krump Chaos gits, which Imperial ‘Umies loved doing, so Ghazghkull had no idea why he was so upset.
“Oh, itz real,” Ghazghkull said. “I’ve gotta plan.”
“You?” Bale Eye spat as he tried to push himself up and fell over again. “A plan?”
“Yeah, a plan.” It was kunningly brutal and brutally kunning. A proper plan and he had phase one complete. He just needed phase two. Phase three was krumping Angron.
“That, I find highly improbable,” Bale Eye snarled as he struggled to get his legs under him. “Why am I like this? What poison did you give me, you foul beast?”
“Oh, the lioness didn’t give you nuthin.”
“Lioness?” Bale Eye stared at him like he had three heads and five mouths. “What lioness? How do you even know what a lioness is?”
“The lioness that brought you back from sum River,” Ghazghkull replied. “She said she wasn’t dun wit you yet.”
“That’s impossible,” Bale Eye said. Sweat shone at his temples and his one good eye looked desperate. Then he looked down, finally realizing he was naked. “Where are my clothes?”
“Oh, they’s was all dirty and such.” Ghazghkull gestured dismissively. “So I gives them to get cleaned. Grotsnik said ‘e wanted ta try ta wake ya, but I said I wanted to try tha ritual. An’ it worked!”
“Ritual.” Bale Eye repeated the word. “What ritual? From where? And why am I covered in salt?”
Bale Eye was one of the orkiest ‘Umies Ghazghkull had ever met. He had the fullest grasp of ork kulture – something most ‘Umies never bothered to develop – and tended to follow the logic better than most. That said, Bale Eye tended to miss a lot in translation. Like why he’d be covered in salt or why they would use a ritual to bring him back.
“Well, I can’t just go git ya like I can Makari,” Ghazghkull said. “I has to do sumthin’ else.”
“Right,” Bale Eye said. “Something else. You couldn’t just leave me to the Emperor’s embrace. You had to go get me using Throne knows what.”
In response, Ghazghkull snatched the paper from his two remaining weirdboyz and dropped it in front of Bale Eye. Bale Eye tried to grab it, his reflexes incredibly uncoordinated and funny, until he finally held the paper at eye level. He squinted and mouthed the words.
“I have no idea what this says,” Bale Eye reported, “but this is the biggest piece of heresy I’ve ever seen. Do you have any idea what you’ve done, you stupid beast?! You’ve opened a door to Chaos! You’ve damned me! I’m going to find a way to kill you for this, then kill myself!”
Ghazghkull snickered. “The lioness wasn’t Chaos. She smelt weird.”
“Of course she smelled weird! She was a daemon!”
“No, she sait she wuz the god of warriors, Lord of Those Who Walk the Veil, Lady of Smoke and Flame, and a whole buncha other zogging tripe,” Ghazghkull replied. “You can read ‘Umie. Wut’s ‘er name?”
Bale Eye snorted. “If I even understood this gibberish, I wouldn’t tell you.”
Frustration spiked. It was a common enough feeling when dealing with Bale Eye, but that didn’t mean Ghazghkull liked it.
“Itz not gibberish! Itz a proper language, but you fink it’s zoggin’ stupid ‘cause you can’t zoggin’ read it!” Ghazghkull ground his tusks. “She sait that you’d be weak. An’ shez right. She sait ta get tha slaves ta look after ya, but Iz not stupid.”
“That’s debatable.”
“So Iz gunna watch ya,” Ghazghkull announced. “Don’t want no escape attempts out of ya ‘til ya hear my kunning plan to krump Angron.”
Bale Eye gave him another one of those looks. Ghazghkull assumed it meant that he understood the brutally kunning plan he had.
“I hate to be the one to explain this, greenskin,” Bale Eye groaned as he slowly sat up, “but Angron is a daemon Primarch. You can’t krump him for good.” Bale Eye let the High Gothic drop. “He’s going to reform until you get bored of killing him.”
“See,” Ghazghkull said, “Dat’s why Iz gotz a plan so’s he don’t.”
“Right.” Bale Eye tried to stand, then promptly fell on his ass again. “And what is this “brilliant plan” of yours?”
“Oh, dat’s simple,” Ghazghkull replied. “We’re goin’ to where I gotz the ritual from and we’re findin’ somenat I fought dere.”
“I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to see you,” Bale Eye sighed. “If you touch me, I’ll bite you.”
“She,” Ghazghkull corrected. “An’ dat’s a fair trade.” Then he reached for Bale Eye, grabbed him by his arm, and dragged him to his feet.
Bale Eye’s outraged shriek made the minor annoyance of getting bitten worth it.