“Chaos Lord!”

Marron wasn’t the only one with sharp eyes in the group. A legionnaire, a woman with brown hair and red eyes, spotted the figure on the Behemoth before he could call the alarm. Decanus looked back, green eyes narrowed and started glowing orange. Niamh clutched at Marron’s sleeve, squeezing hard enough to pinch his skin.

The shadow figure, the Chaos Lord didn’t move. It continued to stare in their direction while the Behemoth meandered.

“Who is it?” Decanus Killane muttered. The orange in her eyes blazed, tendrils of her Animus reaching out from her eyes and forming whorls in the air around her. She clicked her tongue the next moment. The shadowy figure was suddenly covered in bright blue flames. It gestured at them and a bolt of fire streaked out from its outstretched hand.

In the blink of an eye, Midhir and another Warder, a stocky man slightly taller than Niamh, stepped in front of the group and stretched out their hands, palms facing outward. The air around them shattered into multi-coloured streams as they ripped part of the Chaos to power their defence.

A concave bowl of light, several paces across--just enough to cover them--materialised, caught the bolt of flame, and deflected it. The flame shot into the distance, smashing into a boulder a few hundred paces from them and melting it into slag.

In the meantime, Marron aimed with his Plasma Caster, channelling Animus into the stock and delivering a plasma bolt back at the figure. The Behemoth raised a hand, catching his attack easily. The superheated plasma splashed into its fur, doing no more damage than the rain would have against a legionnaire’s forceweave clothing.

The Chaos Lord held out a palm and this time, they saw the air around it twisting. A ball of white flame materialized above it, tiny compared to the previous attack. Marron would not have ridiculed the diminutive flame. He could see the haze from the heat as well as the streams of Chaos feeding it.

“Back!” Killane shouted. The legionnaires ran at her call. The waypoint terminus was right in front of them and they didn’t hesitate in jumping through it. Marron followed suit, dragging Niamh behind him with his Plasma Caster in the other hand.

The moment they stepped through the slight shimmer in the air, he felt his guts twist at the transition. The next second, they were in a field of snow. The air was thick with snowflakes drifting in the still air instead of falling to the ground.

The others were half a step in front. The Warders pushed their way into the new waypoint after Marron and Niamh cleared the area. Decanus Killane gestured in a direction and they quickly marched to it. Marron glanced behind them as they moved forward, half expecting the Chaos Lord to follow them and continue its assault.

Ten minutes later, there was no sign of it, and Marron’s heart rate finally slowed to a more sedate pace. Niamh was sniffling beside him while he absently patted her arm.

“We should be fine,” Decanus Killane declared. “I recognised the Chaos Lord.”

“Wielder of Divine Flames,” one of the other legionaries said. The name came from a grim-faced woman whose grey hair, twisted into a bun, showed that she was probably older than the Decanus.

“You’re right, Kerry,” Killane nodded. “We were lucky. But what was she doing here?”

“She was certainly claiming the Behemoth. Otherwise, she would have pursued.”

“Mark it on the report,” Killane ordered grimly.

“Aye, ma’am.” Their scribe, a baby-faced man with green eyes and short-cropped violet hair answered.

“Are you still rattled?” Marron whispered to Niamh.

“I’ll be fine.” She sighed, finally releasing her grip on his sleeve. “That was the first time I’ve seen one of them.”

“Anything can happen,” Marron muttered.

“I know.”

They continued travelling. The ever-floating snow was a bit of a bother, not to mention that the cold was something they didn’t expect. Thankfully, a careful application of Field made sure that their body temp didn’t dip too much.

In Faron’s Crossing, it rarely got cold enough for snow, though beyond the Zarek Mountains was another matter. Marron experienced the frigid Season of Water in the capital so he wasn’t entirely unprepared.

The next waypoint was swelteringly hot and damp. They emerged in a thick rainforest and if they weren’t in the Tidelands, Marron was sure they would have been harried to death with mosquitoes and other annoying insects. As it were, the denizens of this waypoint were swarmlings and Lurkers.

The swarmlings were of no matter; the Destroyers in the team, one wielding a miniature Plasma Carronade, and the other ignited the air in front of him with green fires, wiped out any that came near. The Lurkers were harmless unless they happened to be in the team’s path.

Their carapace projected a camouflaging field that they could barely make out, and only when the Wyldlings spat out corrosive acid, or globs of superheated plasma would they become visible. Fighting Wyldlings in the Tidelands was very much different from fighting them in the plane. For one thing, they didn’t have to ward themselves from the natural laws of the plane, while the Chaos empowered them. It was the opposite for the legionnaires. They had to ward the Chaos off their bodies. Still, their Anima was strong enough that the oppression didn’t manifest as more than mild discomfort.

Marron shot at, and killed, his third Lurker when they reached the terminus point. One of the Scouts ducked inside, came back a minute later and waved the rest of them through. They emerged at the mouth of an idyllic valley.

From their vantage point, Marron could see rolling hills filled with wildflowers. A river meandered through its length while snow-capped mountains towered above. The group breathed a collective sigh of relief.

The waypoint had a welcoming air. A sense of peace and serenity drained the tension from their shoulders. They moved a couple hundred paces into the valley. The scent of the flowers tickled the back of Marron’s throat, making him sneeze.

“Need a kerchief?” Niamh asked cheerily.

“I have my own,” Marron answered stiffly, reaching into his pocket.

“We can get a breather here.” Decanus Killane decided. She sniffed the air, sneezed abruptly and reddened when her team chuckled.

Marron approached her. “How much further before we can scry?”

Killane nodded to the valley. “We can try here already. We’re close enough to the edge of the Shallows and Mid Marches. I need to recover Animus and attune myself.”

“Got it.”

Though the skies above the valley were sunny, Marron could see the Chaos flows behind the faux sky. White clouds covered the Radiant Sun every now and then, and a stiff breeze brought a nostalgic scent. A vague feeling of wrongness persisted though. Even if this waypoint looked like it could have been any valley in Rumiga, ambient Chaos in the air was thick and cloying.

The group moved to find a more sheltered nook. The feel of the place meant that the exit terminus was on the other side of the valley, so they followed the river at a sedate pace. The water flowed slowly, sloshing over rocks and avoiding the sandbars. It was roughly fifty paces across, and the water was clear enough that Marron could see the riverbed, deceptively near.

“That’s at least a dozen paces deep,” MIdhir remarked. “Look at those shadows. The current looks like it’ll pull you under too.”

Marron heard Niamh gulp.

“Nothing in the Tidelands is benign,” Midhir commented, “no matter how things look or feel. Don’t you forget it.”

Eventually, they settled along a sandy stretch along the river bank. The bushes sported strangely coloured berries and the palm trees grew in twisted knots. The underlying strangeness of the place was easier to see with the flora.

They made camp. Marron searched for some driftwood along the beach, picking up a twisted bit just out of sight from camp. This should last them for a while.

The campfire was blazing merrily when he returned, with a pot of ration bar stew set on an iron tripod above the flames. He dumped the driftwood to the side.

The stew tasted the same as before. Marron ate quickly while Niamh lingered over her bowl. Her eyes, so eager before to explore the Chaos, were now lidded with caution and reluctance.

‘Better that she discover it now,’ Marron thought to himself, ‘that she is more suited for paperwork back in the Watchtower.’ Niamh was a Rune Scrivener, her Facet allowing her to remember the thousands of runes and their combinations to create the wonders of Imperial Animatech. Those were better done in safety. He honestly wondered why she would even insist on accompanying him here.

After dinner, Decanus Killane sequestered herself in her tent, coming outside only after a couple of hours had passed. Her face was pale and sweat dripped down her nose. But she had a triumphant light in her eyes.

“I have a bearing.”

“What did you see?” Marron asked anxiously.

“Not much, I’m afraid, but there is a waypoint where they spent a significant time in. It has since dissolved, having been shaped by one of the Knight-Captains’ will.”

“Inquisitor Gorlyn?”

“No way to tell.” Killane shrugged. “But I traced something that came from there. We need to dip into the Mid Marches so I can shape a waypoint,” she wiped the sweat off her brow, “and we have to do it as soon as we can. The Chaos could wipe away that trace if we wait.”

“What are the chances it survived all this time only for it to be wiped away just as we are close?” Marron muttered.

Killane grinned. “That’s the thing. Such coincidences are common in the Chaos. However, danger follows close to such coincidences. We may encounter a Chaos Lord or something worse when we find it.”

Marron and Niamh exchanged looks. “What I want to know is if they’re still alive.”

“I can’t tell. With that trace, I may be able to divine it.”

“Then let’s go.”

The team quickly packed camp. In short order, the exhausted troupe continued down the valley. Marron kept a wary eye around them, but nothing happened. He felt a chill down his spine once they crossed the middle but no threat materialized and soon, the tranquillity of the place smoothed out their nerves.

Once they were at the terminus, Killane spread out her orange coloured Animus over all of them. They had to squish together to fit in the bubble, with Midhir crushing Marron on the left while Niamh seemed to melt into him. He shifted uncomfortably but stopped when both of them protested.

“Focus. Think only of our need to find the Inquisitor and her companions,” Killane yelled while the bubble of orange was slowly stained by different-coloured Animus. Her face twisted with strain while the very air around them started pressing in, squishing the bubble further.

With a grunt, she stepped into the portal and the rest quickly followed.

The next thing they knew they were in a small cave, twenty paces wide and perhaps five paces high. The terminus point was easily visible opposite where they were standing. The cave had bioluminescent moss and was dotted with brown capped mushrooms with white dots. A bit of sunlight somehow made it inside through a small crack on the ceiling.

Crunch!

A single step caused the gravel underneath to grind against their boots. The centre of the cave, right where the ray of sunlight hit the floor, was a little piece of wax paper.

“Ration bar wrapping,” Marron’s voice echoed in the small cave, breaking the spell of silence. Niamh barked a laugh. Killane picked up the wrapper, hands and eyes glowing. Her tense face broke into a smile.

“They’re alive.”

Marron blinked. “How can you tell from just that?”

Killane huffed. “This piece of paper had been inside Commander Davar’s pack for weeks. They opened this and ate the contents less than a fortnight ago. That means that this had been consumed after the Full Moon. They survived whatever had trapped them here, though I don’t know where they are now. Oh, and this ration bar wrapper had been produced in Rumiga City on the forty-first Day of Air, After Founding Two Thousand Nine Hundred Forty-One. Roughly Fifty-six years ago.”

“None of that says they’re alive right now.”

She sighed. “No, you’re right. But at least we knew that they were alive a couple of weeks ago.”

“So what now?”

“We return.” She pulled out a small black jade box and placed the waxed paper inside. “We cannot travel into the Mid Marches, not without great risk. I’m especially wary of that Chaos Lord and the Behemoth it was herding.”

Marron smacked his fist into his palm and growled in frustration. “Where in Chaos are you, Da? Why are you running around when you’re needed back home?”

Still, there was nothing more he could do. He couldn’t leave on his own, a sure death sentence. He could only hope the Legion Vagaris had a way to trace them from this little bit of rubbish they’ve found.