by Various
It was a faint binaric warble, only just audible at the very limits of the frequency.
Oberdeii frowned. ‘What is it?’ he whispered.
‘It’s an automated Mechanicum cant,’ Tebecai replied. ‘That’s one of the lost servitor drones.’
They followed the weak signal for at least another two kilometres down and to the north-west, as far as Oberdeii could make out with the ranging marker set against the almost nonsensical curve of the tunnel. They had strayed well off the edge of their map, and Tebecai had given up trying to record their route. His rough calculations suggested that they’d actually gone in a circle more than three times.
There was a chill in the depths – a deep cold, the like of which they had never encountered even beyond the great engine halls of Primary Location Ultra. As far as either of them could make out, no living human had ever set foot this deep beneath the mountain.
Were they even beneath the mountain at all, any longer?
‘It’s like being inside a huge beast,’ Oberdeii murmured. ‘Some huge, frozen beast of the void...’
‘Be quiet,’ Tebecai hissed.
‘I’m just saying, doesn’t it feel like... organic to you? Down here, I mean. More so than above ground level. The tunnels remind me of–’
‘Be quiet!’
They both stopped abruptly at the faint sound of struggling servos.
Their lamps picked out an opening low in the smooth wall of the tunnel, almost capillary-like. Tebecai made a show of not seeing the similarity with what Oberdeii had just been saying, and closed the vox-link.
‘Well volunteered, brother,’ he said with a grin. ‘Get down that gap and snag the drone. Forget our poor measurements – the data in that servitor could be ten, twenty, a hundred times more useful. We’ll drag it back to the surface and let the warsmith do whatever it is he does with it all. Tebecai and Oberdeii, the heroes of Sotha!’
Sighing, Oberdeii shook his head. ‘You’re an idiot.’
Tebecai shrugged. ‘I’m not the one crawling down a tiny hole in the guts of a xenos machine on the edge of known space. Mind how you go.’
Oberdeii handed his boltgun off and eased himself head first into the opening, Tebecai lowering him as far as he could by the bootstraps. Then, bracing with his elbow pads, he scraped and slid his way down the steep angle of the crawlspace, his lamp all but useless against the glassy, black rock, towards the unmistakeable sound of the stuck servitor.
‘It’s a good job you kept on chirping, you old clanker,’ he marvelled. ‘Otherwise we would never have found you in the dark.’
Eventually, the crawlspace opened out. Oberdeii caught a gasp before it could leave his throat.
The drone was perched on the edge of an abyss, no more than four paces away from him, its tracked feet moving weakly back and forth in the emptiness beyond. How it had not simply fallen, he could not begin to guess.
Vertigo gripped at Oberdeii’s stomach as he inched forwards. His dual heartbeat began to thump in his chest. Beyond the ledge in front of him, there was simply nothing.
No distant rocky walls, no suggestion of light.
No physical object that even his enhanced vision could pick out.
This space, whatever it was, was so unimaginably vast that he had difficulty reconciling its existence with what he knew about the geographical layout of Mount Pharos. It just seemed too big to fit under the mountain in any literal sense.
The warsmith would have to revise his calculations. No wonder they had lost so many of the drones down here.
Tebecai’s voice came faintly down the crawlspace after him. ‘Have you got it?’
Oberdeii gingerly pulled himself up, and knelt beside the drone. Its power-cells were at less than one per cent, but its mapping memory was reading as almost full.
‘Yes. Yes, I’ve got it. I’m going to shut it down first, so we don’t risk data-coil corruption.’
As the servitor’s systems lapsed into hibernation, its feet went still. Only then did Oberdeii realise just how completely silent this immense space was.
He clapped his gloved hands together, but the sound cast no echo.
He shook his head and pulled the rappel line from his harness, fastening it to the servitor’s chassis. He wouldn’t risk losing it on the climb back up to Tebecai.
‘I’m coming now,’ he called, heaving the servitor around as carefully as he could. Tebecai’s reply was too faint for him to hear.
Oberdeii paused at the crawlspace opening. He cast a glance back over his shoulder.
His curiosity got the better of him, and he reached for the ranging marker on his hip.
Aiming blindly, he watched the pale thread of light flick out into the impenetrable darkness.
‘Range to target – nine, nine, nine, nine, nine, niNe, NiinE, NNIIII–’
The marker’s voice became distorted, then Oberdeii flinched as the emitter burst out with a firecracker bang and a shower of sparks. He twisted, putting out a hand to catch himself.
But his fingers closed on nothingness. His balance lurched to one side, and he kicked harder than he meant to, in reflex.
He sprawled outwards, and he fell.
Oberdeii’s wordless cry was deadened by the abyss. There was nothing around him in any direction to reach out for. The rappelling line spooled out at an alarming rate, doing nothing to arrest his fall.
Panicking, he flailed, reaching, grasping for the catch on his harness that would engage the braking gears.
Before he could find it, the line struck taut.
The sudden halt was agonising. He felt both of his shoulders wrench from their sockets, the left one popping immediately back in as he sprung two metres back upwards on the end of the rappel. The air was torn from his winded lungs. The broken ranging marker slipped from his grasp and tumbled down into the infinite void beneath him.
Oberdeii hung there, gasping and whimpering in pain, like a crushed arachnid on the end of its final silken thread. He hung there for a long time.
He did not like to question how the servitor had remained tethered back up on the ledge, saving him from an endless plunge into who-even-knew-where. Nor did he like to question how long it would be before it toppled over after him, joining him in oblivion.
His arms were numb and limp. He was all but helpless. His only hope was that Tebecai would have been so startled by his cries that he might dare venture down the crawlspace after him, and haul him back up.
A slim hope. Tebecai seemed to be as dumb as a bag of rocks, when it truly mattered. Even Krissaeos, whom the rest of the cohort often mocked for his slow wits, would occasionally show him up in training exercises.
Oberdeii laughed thinly at that thought, tears stinging his eyes. He had the impression that his vision was swimming before him, except that there was nothing but impenetrable blackness above and below. At least when he screwed his eyes shut, he was rewarded with a brief riot of colour behind his eyelids to let him know that he hadn’t gone blind.
He could feel unconsciousness rising in him. His underdeveloped transhuman body was shutting down in response to the pain. He tried to call out, his tongue feeling thick in his mouth.
‘Teb... Tebecai...? B-Brother...?’
In the void beneath him, something stirred.
A presence. An intelligence, of sorts. It was ancient, and cold, and incomprehensibly alien.
A wave of disorienting nausea passed over him. Not fear. No, nothing like that.
They shall know no fear.
It was something else.
Oberdeii felt himself being regarded in the way that a Sothan phantine might regard a fire ant, or a man might regard an amoeba. Otherworldly voices whispered to him in languages he did not understand.
Know no fear. Know no fear. Know no fear.
Gritting his teeth against the agonising pain in his shoulde
rs, he forced himself around in the harness. He managed to turn his head just enough – just enough – to glimpse that ancient, cold, alien presence. And he screamed.
He saw the truth at the heart of the Pharos, and he saw what was coming to Sotha.
And it saw him.
Tebecai sagged. His eyes moved to each of the three legionary centurions in turn, anxious for their approval, though he did not allow his gaze to remain long on the other figures beyond the communication field.
‘That’s everything, my lords. That was when we brought him up, and gave him over to Apothecary Taricus. I don’t know what it was that happened to him down there, but he was barely conscious.’ Tebecai wrung his fingers plaintively. ‘He was saying things. Strange things.’
From the other side of Ultramar, the voice of a primarch reached Mount Pharos. ‘What was it, neophyte? What did young Oberdeii say?’
Tebecai’s face twisted. He trembled before the quiet, assured power of that voice.
‘My lord, I cannot tell a lie. He kept crying out, “They see our light,” over and over again. Sergeant Arkus asked him who, but we couldn’t make him tell us.’
Warsmith Dantioch ambled over to him, his power-armoured joints wheezing, and he placed his gauntleted hands upon the youth’s shoulders. ‘Just as Arkus said in the report. You’ve done well here today, Neophyte Tebecai. You are a credit to your company and your Legion.’
Captain Adallus managed to catch Dantioch’s eye. The warsmith glared back at him through the sockets of his iron skull mask, but Adallus would not be made to look weak before the primarch.
‘That is open to some debate, warsmith,’ he said. ‘Tebecai and the rest of the cohort will be–’
‘There’s something more,’ the neophyte blurted out, interrupting his captain. ‘Something that can’t be in the report.’
Adallus froze. ‘What?’
‘Oberdeii whispered something to me, and Sergeant Arkus didn’t know about it. I’ll never forget what he said, though. I’m sure of that. No one could forget it.’
Even Dantioch was taken aback. ‘Tell us, lad.’
Tebecai narrowed his eyes. ‘He said... He said that they are out there, now, in the dark between the stars. And again, he said that they see our light.’
No one spoke. Even the machinery tended by Captain Polux seemed to hush its mechanical chatter.
From his throne on distant Macragge, it was Lion El’Jonson himself, primarch of the First Legion, that broke the silence. ‘And what do you think that means, Tebecai?’
The neophyte shuffled awkwardly. ‘Forgive me, lord, but I know you met my brother before, when you were here on Sotha. He talked about it a lot. It was him who saw the coming of Emperor Sanguinius, in his dreams. So maybe this was a new vision. Something bad.’
Dantioch moved back to his own chair, but did not sit. ‘We have yet to fully explore the various incidental empathic projection phenomena associated with the Pharos, though the locals seem to accept it well enough. They call it “mountain dreaming”.’
‘Indeed,’ the Lion nodded. ‘I heard Oberdeii’s original prophecy with my own ears.’
Adallus stood tall. ‘You will send more legionary forces to us as a precaution then, my lord? We can accommodate another company on the orbital platform, and any number of ships at defensible anchorage points within the system. That’s before we even land anything onto the planet itself.’
The primarch fixed him with an intense gaze.
‘We will not be landing anything on Sotha, captain,’ he said flatly, ‘because I am not sending any more legionary forces to you.’
Dantioch twitched. Adallus made to reply, but thought better of it. The Lion went on.
‘There is a whole company of Ultramarines guarding the system, plus the orbital platform itself and a constant rotation of ships from at least three Legions. We have been over this before, thanks to Captain Polux, and my previous decision still stands. I will not draw attention to Sotha by blockading it with my fleet.’ He nodded to Dantioch again. ‘Never mind the Aegida Company – the greatest shield you have there, warsmith, is the appearance of being completely and utterly insignificant. As unsettling as Oberdeii’s feverish words might have been for his neophyte brethren, I hear nothing like the certainty in them that I did the first time. This was not a prophecy. It was just a bad dream.’
Dantioch bowed, the movement causing him some noticeable discomfort. ‘Of course, I shall defer to your tactical wisdom, Lord Jonson. If you are satisfied that Sotha and the Pharos remain safe, then that is–’
‘Indeed, that is all,’ said the Lion, leaning back into his seat. ‘Captain Adallus, you are to inform Sergeant Arkus and his Scout cohort – including Tebecai, and Oberdeii, when he can be roused from the apothecarion – that I would commune with them again directly. In the meantime, all of these matters here discussed are to be considered of the utmost secrecy. Let none speak of them, or face my wrath.’
‘My lord,’ said Adallus, relieved in no small measure that the audience was finally coming to a close. ‘It shall be done.’
With a gloaming sigh the communication field faded, leaving the Convincus Cubicularum in a cold, pensive silence. The Lion remained seated, gazing into the now empty air, one finger tapping absently upon the arm of the throne.
Holguin, voted-lieutenant of the Deathwing, waited as long as was seemly before stepping forwards to relight the chamber’s lamps.
‘Leave them,’ the primarch murmured.
‘My lord?’
‘We shall not remain here. The hour is late, and I suspect we have already drawn the attention of my brothers’ guardians in this unscheduled contact with Sotha.’
‘As you wish. What will you tell Lord Guilliman of these events? Or the Emperor Sanguinius?’
‘I have no intention of telling either of them anything.’
Holguin shifted uneasily. ‘But… the neophytes…’
The primarch shrugged, dismissing the lieutenant’s concern with a flick of his hand.
‘There is nothing to tell. I did not hear evidence of any credible threat to the Thirteenth Legion operation on Sotha, far less the security of the palace here. Like as not, the whole story is just fanciful suggestion, amplified in the minds of those boys by that damned mountain. I cannot explain any of what they claim to have witnessed, but equally I cannot see that it gives me any cause to investigate further.’
He rose, holding out his bare hands to the Deathwing warriors standing nearby. They brought him his gauntlets, his weapon belts and war helm. As he fastened the clasps at his wrists, Holguin also stepped forwards bearing the mighty Lion Sword, and the primarch gave him a knowing look.
‘Besides – when have you ever known me to offer anyone the whole truth, unasked for? I will not lie, but I will not play Roboute’s game of Imperium Secundus with an open hand.’
Holguin handed him the blade. ‘I see the wisdom in it. “A truth unspoken is the coin of tomorrow,” is it not?’
‘Just so,’ the primarch said. ‘Regardless, we have far more pressing matters to attend to.’
‘The hunt continues as planned, then? You intend to keep searching for the Night Haunter in secret?’
A tremor flickered beneath the Lion’s right eye at the mention of the name, and he gripped the hilt of the sheathed sword tightly. ‘The hunt will never end,’ he growled. ‘Not until I have him, Holguin – broken or in chains, begging for his miserable, worthless life…’
He tilted his head, cricking the tension from his neck.
‘And then I’ll gut him.’
‘While that would be a righteous and justified act, I feel honour-bound to remind you that Guilliman appointed you Lord Protector, not chief executioner.’
The Lion’s glare turned icy. ‘Have a care, little brother – those who question my judgement soon wish they hadn’t. Kon
rad Curze is an evil from which the entire galaxy needs protecting. He has no place in a sane, ordered universe. Would you not agree with that at least, my voted-lieutenant?’
Holguin bowed his head. ‘Of course, my liege. The other Legions are more than a match for the traitor warbands still scattered throughout Ultramar. The Deathwing stands ready to serve you, and you alone.’
‘Then send word to the fleet, triple-encryption – we leave before dawn. The flagship and her attendant flotillas will remain on station over Macragge as a show of force. All other shipmasters and legionary captains are to expect new orders within the hour.’
The primarch took up his helm in the crook of his arm, and they strode side by side towards the grand doors of the chamber, the Lion letting his cloak sweep behind him as he went. Holguin held out a finely wrought bolt pistol, pressing the grip into the primarch’s waiting hand.
‘And our destination, lord?’ he asked. ‘Where are we to resume the hunt for Curze?’
The Lion smiled grimly to himself as the doors were thrown wide.
‘Wherever he is, he’s not on Sotha. Of that much, at least, we can be certain.’
Wolf King
Chris Wraight
~ DRAMATIS PERSONAE ~
The VI Legion ‘Space Wolves’
Leman Russ, The Wolf King of Fenris, Lord of the Rout, Primarch of the VI Legion
Kva, Called Who-is-Divided, Rune Priest
The Runewatchers, Kva’s appointed guardians
Grimnr Blackblood, Huscarl of the primarch’s honour guard
Gunnar Gunnhilt, Called Lord Gunn, Jarl of Onn
Skrier, Called Strikes-Slow, adjutant to Lord Gunn
Aesir, Adjutant to Lord Gunn
Ogvai Helmschrot, Jarl of Tra
Bjorn, ‘The One-Handed’, pack leader
Godsmote
Hvan
Eunwald
Angvar
Urth
Ferith
Hvarl, Called Red-Blade, Jarl of Sepp
The XX Legion ‘Alpha Legion’
Alpharius, Lord of Serpents, Primarch of the XX Legion
