Aid Unlooked For
Without warning, the greenskin tide began to slacken.
Seeking the reason, Kantor's keen eye saw ghostly figures on
Widow's Spire to the west and Darkridge to the east, high
above and behind the encircling Orks. Graceful were these
newcomers, darting from cover to cover and paying no heed
to the treacherous footing as their longrifles brought precise
death to the Ork horde. Who his fresh allies were, Kantor
could not immediately tell, for their forms shimmered as
insubstantial as mist in the morning sunlight, but nor did he
care. All that mattered was that this intervention gave his
Battle-Brothers the chance that they needed to counterattack
and turn the battle's tide.
Giving a mighty shout, the Crimson Fists charged over their
rampart of dead greenskins and set upon the Orks with new
vigour. Caught between the re-doubled rage of the Crimson
Fists and fresh attackers on the slopes, the Orks were thrust
back. The greenskins fled down Traitor's Gorge, leaving more
than ten score dead and twice as many wounded behind
them. As Kantor's men walked amongst the carnage, ending
the lives of those Orks too foolhardy or injured to flee, a
robed figure detached itself from the shadows clustered on
Widow's Spire and strode swiftly to Kantor's side. Coldly
contemptuous of any threat posed by the watchful Space
Marines, it cut through the Chapter Master's wary greeting.
"The surviving beasts cower in the shadows below, ensnared
in a web of our devising. Pursue them into the darkness
and a great victory shall be yours."
"And should I choose not to do so?" Kantor asked, for he
could not bring himself to place his trust in the elaboratelyhelmed
alien that stood before him.
"Then they will escape and grow ever stronger in the
darkness. In fifty years a shadow of their making will arise
to envelop this area of space which, unopposed, shall be
the doom of your people and mine. Catastrophe will reign,
and you shall lament your inaction this day."
"Will you aid us in the gorge as you did here?" Kantor
demanded, but the figure shook its head.
"Be not so swift to embrace us as allies. Auspicious fate
dictated that we should fight side-by-side this day but, fate
is a fickle creature. At our next encounter, it will be my fists
that bear the stain of your blood."
And with that, the alien turned and was gone, and the
shadows that lurked amongst the scree of Widow's Spire
and Darkridge were gone also. Kantor weighed the words
and actions he had borne witness to and led his men into
Traitor's Gorge. There in the darkness great victory was
indeed his, forever ending the Ork threat in the Jaden
Mountains. Returning to the lowlands, Kantor continued the
rebuilding of his Chapter, and in time raised the Crimson
Fists out of ruin to once more stand alongside the greatest
champions of Mankind. But in all the years of triumph that
followed, the robed figure's words would dwell heavily on
Kantor until, at the last, they met again.
Прямо про эльдар там не говорится, но кому ж еще?
А с легионерами вообще никто и никогда не разговаривал.