Breaks a Keeper of Secrtets

A Keeper of Secrets. A Greater Daemon in the service of Slaanesh towered over the assembled throng. Jewelled eyes glittered in its bull-like head. Its huge pincer arms caressed the head of a priestess almost lovingly. It beckoned with one of its other pair of human arms and a wave of cultists surged towards the Banshees.

Now the Keeper of Secrets emerged onto the ridge top, holding the shattered body of a Banshee over its head. It stood there silhouetted against the sunlight and roared its contempt of the enemy below. It plucked the brightly-glowing waystone from the woman's armour and popped it in its mouth like a sweetmeat. A look of obscene pleasure passed across its face as it consumed the soul contained within. The Eldar army froze. Moans of terror issued from a few lips. A lull settled over the battlefield and even the chatter of small arms fire seemed to recede.

The Avatar turned its burning gaze on the Daemon, silently responding to its mocking challenge. The slow drip-drip-drip of blood from its left hand intensified. Its blade glowed brightly in its clenched right fist. Kelmon sensed that they had reached the crisis point of the battle. Two mighty probability waves were about to clash, one bringing screaming terror and defeat to his people, the other bringing joyous victory. The outcome was unclear. Forces beyond his ability to comprehend had been unleashed here.

The Daemon led its followers down the ridge. The Eldar charged to meet them. Great clouds of dust rose around the combatants. Now all subtlety was thrown aside in the primal fury of conflict. The fighting became close and deadly as the two forces mingled. The Avatar and the Keeper of Secrets ploughed towards each other, leaving red destruction in their wakes. Swooping Hawks entered the melee. The Daemon rent two Exarchs asunder before it confronted the Avatar. The earth shook as the two mighty beings clashed. The Avatar and the Daemon wrestled, each seeking advantage. Auras of power flickered around their heads as they duelled with blades of psychic force. The Daemon's claws locked tight on the

Eldar's armour, striving to crush the being within. The Bloody-Handed One’s left hand closed on the Daemon’s throat as it sought to strangle its foe. Kelmon felt a surge of power as the Warlocks entered the fray. Their witch blades flashed, cutting into the daemon’s hide, distracting it for a second as it lashed out with its fists, breaking bodies with each terrific blow.

For a long moment the conflict stood in the balance. The Avatar and the Daemon stood locked, straining to their uttermost, neither able to break the deadlock. Kelmon sensed the total nature of the combat. Here were two beings, driven by burning hatred, battling on every level, physical, mental, spiritual; re-enacting an old cosmic battle. Around them the struggles of man and Eldar were dwarfed by the energies unleashed. It was like two giants fighting in an ant-heap. Slowly, painfully, the Avatar forced the Daemon back. The Daemon held its ground, but was forced to sway, curving its back away from its foe. The Avatar seemed to grow as it exerted itself more fully. Suddenly, with a final desperate surge it lifted the Daemon and broke its back over one armoured knee. A terrible psychic scream rang out. The feedback through the runes almost caused Kelmon to faint.

The Avatar stood now in the centre of battle and raised its blade in triumph. The cultists moaned, having seen their god destroyed. The Avatar glared around. Its gaze fixed on one man who fell to his knees screaming. The Avatar reached out with its bloody hand. There was a great splintering and rending of bones as the man's heart burst out through his chest and floated into the Avatar's grasp. The cultists fell back demoralised.

The battle was over. The massacre began.

White Dwarf 127