The horror wave came howling, and suddenly the entire Citadel Mount was vibrating to that Song.

Tremble, oo oooo oo, Tremble, we come... Tremble, tremble....

When death is nigh, and the end is near...

When terrors walk, and the dread appear....

Tremble, oo oooo oo, Tremble, we come... Tremble, tremble....

The Ruk were a stout folk, experienced in facing the ancient horrors of the universe, stalwart and valiant, disciplined and determined. In the face of this dirge, all their hackles were rising. Combined with the horror wave, the power of the Song was rising, and the whole Wave seemed to be howling to its chorus!

I wield your doom, shed a golden tear...

Behold my power, know the dark of Fear!...

Tremble, oo oooo oo, Tremble, we come... Tremble, tremble....

The Dark Matter Core was vibrating shrilly, blackness was seething all over the Runetech as the Curse responded to its power, warring with the vivic power. The stony figures of the Grimshield crew were rocking, vibrating, dust was falling from them, and as the Core burned with dark light, something was being drawn out of each of them, racing towards the Core... and cracks brimming with vivus that had been saturating them for weeks were rising all over them!

A thousand horrors, a million screams...

Master your fears, and CLAIM YOUR DREAMS!

The horror wave seemed to screech in disbelief as the Song rose, and a sharp note rang out with liquid purity, sweeping across the room, driving Curse new and old before it...

TREMBLE, WE COME!

The whole Citadel seemed to chime as one, and the dark wind streaming from the petrified became an explosion of dark light, each petrified Ruk burning with unwhite fire. The stone upon them was cast off and away in a clattering of rock and pebbles that sounded like a million feet stomping on the ground in defiance.

The horror wave ended fifteen seconds early, its power drained as the enchantments upon the stricken crew were broken.

“SHUT DOWN THE CORE!” the amazed King Rittercrun ordered, and stunned Ruk hurriedly hit the interrupts that cut off the power feed to the Core before it could truly reach self-sustaining levels.

Every drone in the place promptly began to inundate the Core with vivic flames, as the shocked crew of the Grimshield rose to their feet, looking around at the unfamiliar Ruk and... alien machines here?

“THEY ARE FREE!” King Rittercrun shouted out, and the wide-open com systems flooded through the whole Citadel with the cheers of the Unforgotten’s crew, letting them know they were indeed among their kin, and their desperate gamble had indeed paid off.

Songs that had not changed in over a hundred millennia, driven deep into the bones of the Ruk, spontaneously arose, deep voices rising up in words of clan and kin, a sincerity and truth to them that could not be faked.

King Engrad Rittercrun, King Under the Mountain of Grimshield, sighed as that song thundered through the hull of his home. There was no denying its truth, and the insignia had not changed. One of his own clan had come to rescue them from their doom!

King Rargyle stepped to meet him, one King to another. While Engrad was technically senior, in actual age they were roughly equal, less than a generation apart, and so stood at equals. After all, time-shifting and stasis sleep was not unknown to them, and protocols for them were known as well.

The colors of Rargyle’s beard were somber and serious. He spoke through the pounding song quickly and firmly, “Great Uncle, these are grim times. Your Citadel and mine are going to quickly come under attack by the Compact of the Black. Furthermore, we cannot risk firing up your Core, as the Curse you cast to sequester your Citadel has been corrupted, and is hostile to all aboard. These white flames have temporarily suppressed it, but do not allow us to defend it.

“We must evacuate your people to the Unforgotten and leave the Grimshield to defend itself. From everything we have established, it will be murderously effective at doing so. If you remain aboard... it will kill you all.”

King Engrad’s beard twisted in hues. He had been told the defensive Curse might be mutated by the Warp, but they had not had much choice in the matter. To hear it had happened was not welcome, especially just after they had been freed.

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“We have already removed the ships, and we have Bridged the northern face. Our estimates are that the Compact will be here within twelve hours.”

King Engrad grit his teeth. It was the foul N’grth that had consigned them to the Warp originally!

He spun, lifted his Hammer, and shouted, “HUT!”

The great song was interrupted, and absolute silence fell instantly. Their King had spoken, and his timing at such a joyous moment meant this was important.

“The Dark Compact has come. The Curse we brought upon our own Citadel has claimed it, and it will return soon. The Unforgotten has bridged at the northern face. Immediately evacuate to our brother Citadel. Battle awaits us!”

Armored boots slammed to the ground. There was no questioning that order. Their King had brought them out of the Warp with his crazy plan, what order would they not heed now? If it meant they had to leave their Citadel and home, that did not mean they could not return when the Curse was broken!

Orders rang out, Ruk turned, and began to march out in order, keeping strict and flowing formation as they did so. Most moved towards the lifts, but others headed for the stairs and individual tubes, forming perfect lines as they began to flow out of the great room patiently and smoothly.

“Great Nephew, these devices?” King Engrad asked softly, gesturing at the alien technology washing the Core in heavy white misting flames.

“Vivic flame, a weapon against the Warp.” A file was sent to him, and he opened it up automatically, scanning it quickly.

“An alien discovery... humans?” He was not familiar with the species.

“It has been described to me as the unnatural energy of the mortal realm, consuming other energies and feeding the Land with them.” King Rargyle’s beard fluctuated with complex thoughts. “It is keeping the Curse at bay, driving it out of here so you could be returned to life. The Engineer of the other Race who devised the method to free you is most clever.”

“What?” King Engrad stared at his brother’s descendant. “This... your Priests did not break our geostasis?”

“No. If we attempted to wield magic of that power, we would have simply consigned both our Citadels to the Warp once again. You were freed by the power of... fear.” His crystalline eyes looked away, towards the nearby star spewing out waves of horror and terror. “She wrought devices to harness the psychic power of fear as they sang a song of... breaking fear, that also broke the enchantments upon you that were in resonance with the waves of fear that have long assailed your Mount. As she broke the one, your geostasis was broken in turn, and the whelming Curse was even sent away for a short time.”

“That...” King Engrad didn’t know what to say. That he owed his freedom to a species that was not even in the stars when he sailed them was hard to fathom... but it did not bode well. “How go our people?”

“We have prepared data files for you and your people to peruse.” King Rargyle’s voice did not engender great hope.

King Engrad exhaled softly. “How many Citadels remain?” he asked.

King Rargyle would not voice such a shameful thing. He waved his hand, and files went out to all the Ruk. Those waiting their turns to leave could read while they did so.

The cries of shame and grief that began to arise minutes later were something he could only stomach in silence, for the descendants of the Ruk had disappointed their ancestors in this matter.

They had lost the ancient war, although they did not dare say that aloud. The war went on, for they would not admit they had lost until the last Ruk had died.

Pressured back towards the dangerous areas in the galactic core, which the races of the Dark Compact were the most uncomfortable in and the Ruk's mastery of gravity and mass was the strongest, they had given up so much to preserve their people...

They had lost so much. Their technology, corrupted and only usable by the Fallen now, twisted into madness and depravity. The idea of one people, united and unbroken. Their Empire, that had spanned the galaxy, and no foe had been able to challenge their dominance for millennia uncounted.

They were a tithe of what they once were. The Compact and the Warp, the loss of their gods and priests, the magic at the hearts of the mountain...

Rargyle turned to look at the silver orbs that had shattered magic wrought by the mightiest of his people. The Great Elder was even now talking to the quietly awed Elder Gult, who was having to inform him of... dire changes...

She had broken the Great Elder’s Ritual magic, borrowing the power of fear, and turned it into... courage!

  Master your fears, and claim your dreams!

Technology, like water...

----------

I watched the Ruk squadrons peel off and deploy calmly. Our strategy was basically based on their predictability.

The enemies of the Ruk had had millennia to find out about the Ruk, and the Ruk, bless their ultra-disciplined little hearts, tended to follow their operational doctrines very closely.

Their enemy knew the ranges of their weapons, they knew their deployment patterns, firing concaves, sensor ranges, squadron formations, ships carried, weapon types and number carried, power of their shields, speed, crew/population, energy supply, all the good stuff.

However, it turned out the Ruk didn’t have an operational doctrine for going into combat against the Compact of the Black with the crew of an ancient and cursed Citadel, and a powerful younger race that had been killing things with rocks when most of its combat doctrines were written. When I proposed that we combat-engineer some new tactical doctrines to deal with an original situation, taking advantage of their existing protocols instead of relying on them, well, their military types were naturally suspicious, but I said we’d take care of all the sneaky, underhanded tricks, although I noted that the enemy they were fighting specialized in underhanded tricks, and delivering some back to them might be useful in future skirmishes.

Given the number and types of lethal surprises that were in place all over the damn location the two Citadels had been moved to, they decided that using some unorthodox tactics that might be turned into orthodoxy in the future wasn’t out of line, as all things had to start somewhere.

Too, the Grimshield clans wanted revenge something fierce, and they were allowed a lot more tactical flexibility if they didn’t have their own Citadel to operate from.

The incoming Compact didn’t know there was a second Ruk fleet around, or the real status of the Grimshield. We were going to kill them with that.