The sudden appearance of the Laughing God startled the bike-borne warband. The White Scars Space Marine accompanying Jaghatai Khan snapped up his bolter and leveled it at the clownish xenos in a plaid shirt.
"Don't get the wrong idea! I'm here to get you out," the Laughing God, Cegorach, said quickly, raising both hands.
"We don't trust a single word out of a xenos' mouth! We came here precisely to deal with those Dark Eldar," one of the White Scars barked.
"You've been trapped here a very long time. The terrain is extremely complex, and I know this place best. Every tunnel, every corner—I know them all. Only I can lead you out," the Laughing God replied.
He was doing his best to avoid provoking them, to lead them out safely. These guys had been wandering the Webway for so many years, and yet had no sense of time passing.
"We'll find our own way," Jaghatai Khan said.
He had brought his personal guard into this place to hunt these so-called Dark Eldar. They weren't the Drukhari he was familiar with, but probably Harlequins.
He'd glimpsed their kind before, while racing through the Webway.
"Listen, lads, you don't even know how long you've been stuck here. If I tell you, you might jump out of your saddles. Don't you feel like you've been away for a very, very long time?" the Laughing God asked.
Sometimes the Warp is like that. The Webway isn't the Warp, but it's carved through the interstice between the Warp and realspace. There is no real concept of time in here.
Otherwise, those Space Marines with the Khan would never have lasted ten thousand years—they'd have grown old and died long ago.
"Xenos, what do you mean by that?" Jaghatai frowned.
They had indeed been riding for a long while—well, not more than a year or two, surely. Could something have happened outside in those one or two years in the Webway?
"How long do you think you've been here?" the Laughing God asked.
"A year at most, maybe just a few months," Jaghatai said.
The Laughing God nearly choked, then burst out laughing, rolling on the ground. These guys were hilarious—no more than a year?
How did you conclude that? In the Webway, you can't feel time slip by at all.
"Xenos! What are you laughing at? Are you mocking me?" Jaghatai demanded.
"I'm laughing at the joke of it. You haven't been here a year. It's been far, far longer—so long you can hardly believe it.
Friend, you've been away from your Legion for a full ten thousand years. By your human calendar, it is now the 42nd Millennium.
You've been riding here for ten millennia," the Laughing God, Cegorach, said with a sigh.
At that, the White Scars went wide-eyed, then stared in disbelief at the Laughing God.
This garish clown must be lying. How could ten thousand years have passed?
If it had, the Primarch could survive, sure—but they themselves could not. Astartes live at most a thousand years.
"Is this a joke, clown? I know how long I've been here—we haven't been gone for ten thousand years," Jaghatai said.
"You know there is no time in the Warp. Enter the Warp without the Astronomican, without Navigators, and you might be lost—emerge who knows when. Even with the Astronomican and Navigators, you can still be lost.
Where you are now was carved by an ancient species over sixty million years ago.
It lies in the seam between Warp and realspace, deeply bound to the Warp. So there's no real sense of time here either," the Laughing God patiently explained the relation between the Warp and the Webway.
"Nonsense. If that much time had passed, our bikes and gear would have rotted away.
We ourselves would have grown old and died. We couldn't possibly live that long," a White Scar protested.
"I'm not lying. Didn't I just explain? Time has no meaning here. You don't feel your actions at all.
You've been riding for a full ten thousand years—running without cease, never feeling hunger, never even resting," the Laughing God said.
In truth, in the Webway, the Aeldari had encountered this White Scars Khan and his forces before.
Their records noted several raiding parties that had crossed paths with these White Scars.
Half of those raiders were annihilated by the White Scars; the rest fled. A Primarch leading his gene-sons can unleash unimaginable might—the Drukhari wanted no part of this Khan thundering through the Webway.
So, when he entered the Webway to make trouble, they sent teams to lure him deeper into older, more complex sections, until the human Primarch became thoroughly lost.
These ancient Webway systems—besides their creators, the Old Ones—the only one truly familiar with them is me. Only I could find Jaghatai Khan; no one else could!
The White Scars exchanged glances, then turned as one to their gene-father, Jaghatai Khan, awaiting his judgment.
"If we have truly been here ten thousand years—what of the Imperium? What of my father? Has he risen from the Golden Throne?" Jaghatai asked.
"For the first ten thousand years, your father fared poorly. His body suffered irreversible damage in the duel with Horus—he was on the brink of physical death.
There were only two ways to save him. One was to abandon his flesh and enter the Warp, ascending as a fifth Chaos God."
"You lie. My father would never do that."
The Laughing God hadn't finished before Jaghatai cut him off. He knew his father too well—no matter what, his father would never sink to becoming a Warp god, the very thing he despised most.
If he'd intended that, he would've done it before the duel with Horus.
"So I'll give the second possibility: he took the Golden Throne, and his body began to decay. After ten thousand years he became a mummified corpse.
Your enemies even call him the 'Corpse-Emperor.' In those ten millennia, the Imperium changed beyond recognition.
The world you knew is gone. What lies ahead is unknown—but I think you can adapt," the Laughing God said.
Since Rhodes appeared, he'd found the Primarchs one by one. Vulcan was found by him personally, but the others owed their return to this figure.
Now was the best time for Jaghatai Khan to return. Had he returned a few years earlier, he might have thought his father's Imperium had been usurped.
"If you want, I can tell you in detail what happened to the Imperium in these ten thousand years."
"Have we truly been lost here for ten millennia, and the Imperium is now like this?" Jaghatai murmured.
Deep down, he sensed the clown wasn't lying. They truly had been here a very, very long time—so long he himself had forgotten.
It was a feeling beyond words—the psychic intuition of a Primarch.
Jaghatai looked back. Of those who'd ridden into the Webway with him, only a dozen remained from the hundreds.
These were his personal guard, yet one by one, comrades had fallen as they went deeper, until they forgot the very concept of time.
Looking back now, he realized he had lost so many gene-sons—that he was far from where he began.
"Not all news has been bad in recent decades. Someone named Rhodes saved your Imperium and created new Primarchs, even helped your father, the Emperor of Mankind,
regain some strength—he can even speak upon the Throne. You'll see for yourself," the Laughing God said.
"We really should go back. My sons—it's time to go home. I can feel it—my father needs me.
He needed me long ago, but I've been lost—lost in here," Jaghatai said.
"But gene-father, can we trust this xenos? Why would he help us?"
"Don't misunderstand. Helping you helps me. The Aeldari and humanity are allied now. You may use our Webway. That's why I came to take you out," the Laughing God said,
and opened a rift.