Knightsblade

by Andy Clark

  ‘So, you lied to us,’ said Jennika. She saw the sense of his words, but her Knightly conditioning ran deep. Everything about such dishonest conduct was repugnant to her. She fought to keep her anger in check.

  ‘A man who knows he is watched, knows what he must hide,’ said Massata. ‘Besides, if I am honest I had already made up my mind. I sought only confirmation of your guilt, and an opportunity to acquire the grimoire from which the sorceress Alicia gained so much power. Adrastapol enjoyed a stay of execution while I sought that tome, nothing more. I had a plan in place, men in position amongst the Wardens ready to allow me access.’

  ‘That was how you knew of the corruption below Chimaerkeep,’ said Jennika.

  ‘Yes,’ said Massata. ‘I was unsure of how to proceed, for I did not know how great a threat I would face while recovering the grimoire. Any course of action seemed likely to tip my hand, and leave me open to any heretics lurking upon this world. Then, an opportunity presented itself.’

  ‘An opportunity?’ asked Jennika, feeling a horrible suspicion rising like bile at the back of her throat. ‘What opportunity?’

  ‘The orks,’ said Massata.

  ‘The orks,’ repeated Jennika, her knuckles white on the haft of her sword. ‘How?’

  ‘I did not lie about my battleship,’ said Massata. ‘But the Light of Truth is very much intact. On my order, Captain Raniaraz ran a masterful campaign of strike-and-retreat actions to bait the orks while my agents and I laid our preparations upon Adrastapol. She and her sister ships baited the xenos, leading them towards the Majestis System.’

  ‘You brought this scourge upon our world?’ asked Jennika. ‘And yet you can still meet my eye?’

  ‘Of course,’ said Massata. ‘I serve the Emperor, to expunge the evil that Varakh’Lorr began, and Alicia Kar Manticos propagates even now. The orks were to be my distraction, keeping your people occupied, allowing me to appear as the bearer of a dire warning and acquire just enough aid to facilitate my ends beneath Chimaerkeep. I would then locate and reawaken the lander that my retinue concealed several years ago in the Valley of High Kings. It was my intent that the ship would carry us and the grimoire to safety, piloted by Sergeant Kaston, shortly before Captain Raniaraz launches the cyclonic torpedoes that I ordered made ready before my departure.’

  Jennika’s mind reeled.

  Cyclonic torpedoes.

  ‘Exterminatus…’ she breathed.

  ‘I am sorry, my lady,’ said Massata. ‘Yes.’

  Jennika imagined herself swing her blade, imagined herself cutting the inquisitor’s head from his shoulder. She could do it, she knew. She could strike the blow before Kaston or Nesh could stop her. He had signed her world’s death warrant, and there he stood, calmly admitting the deed.

  Instead she took a slow, deep breath, steadying her shaking hands and sheathing her blade.

  ‘Inquisitor Massata,’ Jennika said in her most formal courtly address. ‘You have erred, and I believe that you know it. You have passed false judgement upon the Emperor’s behalf. You have committed a terrible sin in his name.’

  ‘This world harboured heretics and daemon worshippers,’ said Massata. ‘There is no judgement too severe for such a crime.’

  ‘We destroyed those heretics,’ said Jennika. ‘We slew all who consorted with the Dark Gods. We passed our own judgement in the Emperor’s name. You have seen us as we truly are, inquisitor, so you must know that if the Knights of Draconis, Pegasson and Minotos committed any sin it was only that of believing that our allies were as honourable as we were ourselves. It was a sin of honour, of trust. I do not care how you justify your actions here, inquisitor. By them, you have made us guilty of that same sin again, and I believe you will be every bit as damned as Chimaeros and Wyvorn for it. You claim you seek to combat the evil of Alicia Kar Manticos. I say you serve it.’

  ‘Lord,’ said Sergeant Kaston. ‘Perhaps–’

  ‘Silence!’ thundered Massata. ‘My verdict has already been passed!’

  ‘Yet you doubt yourself,’ said Jennika, locking eyes with Massata. ‘Why else did you insist upon my accompanying you into the ruins?’

  ‘I told you, I did not know the scale of the threat,’ said Massata. ‘Everything I have observed told me that you were amongst this world’s most capable warriors. I brought you along as another blade, nothing more.’

  ‘I don’t believe that, and neither do you,’ said Jennika. ‘You brought me with you because you knew that your judgement is false. You wanted me to react, to reveal something down there in the grave of House Chimaeros that would prove you right or wrong, one way or another.’

  ‘I am the Emperor’s arbiter and I have no room for mercy or doubt,’ growled Massata, hefting his axe. ‘My work remains undone, and you are keeping me from it. If I do not reach the lander in time, then all this will have been for nothing.’

  ‘If you go through with this, then you make yourself an implement not of the Emperor, but of the Dark Gods,’ said Jennika. ‘But if you are so certain in your judgement, then who am I as a loyal servant of the Emperor to question your word?’

  She dropped to her knees before him, ignoring the angry cries of her Knights through her vox-bead.

  ‘I submit myself to your judgement, Inquisitor Massata,’ she said, baring her neck. ‘If it is to be execution, then let it start with me. I will not resist the Emperor’s justice, and neither will my people.’

  Massata loomed over her, axe in hand, his expression grim. The inquisitor’s henchmen stared, clearly unused to seeing such emotion from their master. Jennika’s heart thumped steadily. In her mind, she offered up a simple prayer.

  The axe fell from Massata’s grip, and thumped to the ground. Dawn light gleamed along its blade.

  ‘Very well,’ said Massata, and it was as though he dredged the words up from the deepest depths within him. ‘Perhaps I judged poorly, or was too puritan in my approach. Fear forced my hand, and so I erred. By your brave example you shame me, lady.’

  To his followers’ amazement, Massata reached down and gripped Jennika by the shoulders, raising her up to stand before him.

  ‘I can offer you nothing but my heartfelt apologies, however,’ he said. ‘It is too late. By my chron, there is less than a day-cycle remaining before Raniaraz enacts my last command.’

  ‘Cancel the exterminatus,’ said Jennika.

  ‘I cannot,’ said Massata. ‘It must be my voice that issues the command, and to do that I would require high-gain orbital vox. The invasion, the war, has fouled the atmosphere. My vox is useless.’

  ‘Adrastapol hasn’t endured thousands of years of war against the enemies of the Emperor only to be destroyed by His own servants,’ said Jennika fiercely. ‘You said you had a shuttle, yes?’

  ‘I do,’ said Massata. ‘An Aquila Lander, perhaps forty miles due south. But by the time I got into orbit and evaded the ork ships–’

  ‘No,’ interrupted Jennika impatiently. ‘The Draconspire! You’ll find your orbital vox there. You can call off the attack, and command your ships to join the fight instead. You can make this right, inquisitor.’

  Massata was still for a long moment. In her mind, Jennika prayed as fervently to the Emperor as she ever had in her life.

  ‘Yes,’ said Massata at last. ‘Yes, you are right. Any other course would only serve the daemon’s ends.’

  ‘And if this grimoire truly can lay low Alicia Kar Manticos and whatever horror she serves, then I swear to you that you will have the aid of the Knights of Adrastapol in your fight,’ said Jennika. ‘Now get your warriors aboard Traxin’s Crawler, quickly. We will need your directions to reach the lander.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Massata, then he paused. ‘I have slain greater personages than you for speaking to me as you did today, Lady Tan Draconis,’ he said. ‘I commend your bravery, and your honour for helping me to see the error
of my ways.’

  ‘Save your thanks, inquisitor,’ said Jennika. ‘I’ll accept them after we rescue Adrastapol.’

  Luk stared hard through his magnoculars, fighting down the dread he felt at the sight before him.

  ‘We thought the Iron Maze was in a poor state,’ said Ekhaterina. ‘This is…’

  ‘Catastrophe,’ said Luk, heavily.

  They lay on the crest of a grassy rise, staring east across the Valatane towards the burning Draconspire. Several of Gesmund’s men crouched nearby, relaying their findings via a bulky vox set to Lauret Tan Pegasson and Kurt Tan Minotos. The Vesserines’ Taurox idled at the bottom of the slope, waiting to bear them back to where the Knightly force was marshalling on the Valatane.

  ‘Is anyone still alive in there?’ asked Ekhaterina. Luk shook his head, appalled.

  ‘I don’t know, my lady,’ he said.

  The Draconspire he remembered was no more. Surrounded by a seething ocean of orks, what remained was a blasted ruin. Some of its spires and towers had toppled like felled olidarnes, crushing the other walls and structures beneath their weight. The ravaged battlements were festooned with corpses on spikes and ork glyph-banners, and slain steeds could be seen sprawled amidst the ruin, being picked apart by industrious greenskins. Hordes of xenos rampaged around the ruins, pouring in through rents in the Draconspire’s defences.

  More banners rose from the Northrise Battery, and there Luk saw a gathering of the biggest ork walkers he had seen yet.

  ‘Look,’ said Luk, pointing. ‘They’re not attacking Northrise. I’d guess it’s already theirs. But they’re still marching on the Draconspire.’

  ‘Meaning there’s still someone in there for them to fight,’ said Ekhaterina, grinning and clapping him on the shoulder. ‘Your friends may be alive, Luk!’

  ‘I hope so, Lady Hespar,’ he said. ‘Either way, someone is still fighting, and if that’s the case then it’s our duty to come to their aid.’

  ‘Besides,’ she said, ‘that certainly looks like the sort of banner I’d have if I was a filthy great xenos warlord, so Gorgrok must still be present. And clearly, for us to prevail here and be about our hunt again, the warlord must die.’

  ‘Just so,’ said Luk, then frowned. ‘I wonder what has them so agitated?’

  He motioned to the Vesserines, who were clustered around their vox set. One of the men looked up and beckoned urgently to the Knights. Sliding down from the crest of the ridge, Luk and Ekhaterina broke into a doubled-over jog and hurried to join the soldiers.

  ‘Priority vox hail,’ said one of them. ‘Sire, it’s showing Inquisitorial clearance codes, a demand to speak to the leaders of the Knightly force currently assembling on the Valatane.’

  ‘Surely the Marchioness or the Grandmarshal should take it,’ said Luk, but the soldier shook his head.

  ‘No, sire, they’ve deferred the hail to you. Said they’re the military commanders, but you’re the unifying leader.’

  Luk blinked. Ekhaterina smirked. He took the vox headset from the Vesserine, frowning as he clamped it to his ear.

  ‘This is the Knight of Ashes,’ he said. ‘Responding to priority hail, over.’

  ‘Luk?’

  ‘Jen?’ breathed Luk. ‘Jennika, my lady, is that you?’

  ‘It is,’ she replied. ‘Luk, you don’t know how good it is to hear your voice!’

  ‘I imagine about as good as it to hear yours,’ said Luk. ‘Where are you? Why in Throne’s name are you on an Inquisitorial channel?’

  ‘I’m aboard an Inquisitorial lander,’ she said. ‘We’re approaching from the north.’

  ‘An inquisitor, my lady? What business has an inquisitor doing on Adrastapol?’ asked Luk. ‘Why are you airborne, what has happened to your steed?’

  ‘There’s no time, Luk,’ said Jennika. ‘We need to access the orbital vox at the Draconspire, right now. We have to call off the inquisitor’s ship, or we’ll all have a seat at the Emperor’s table before nightfall!’

  Luk felt a surge of confusion and fear, but his Knightly conditioning clamped down firmly on the emotions.

  ‘Yes, my lady,’ he said, marshalling his thoughts. ‘Redirect course and land at the coordinates I’m about to relay. The Draconspire is under heavy siege, I’m not sure how much is left in there or who still lives. I doubt the vox is even still operational.’

  ‘What of the High King?’ she asked.

  ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘There’s a lot to tell, and it sounds like not much time to tell it in. But we have to get in there while there’s still someone alive to rescue. And if you need orbital vox, I may have an idea.’

  ‘I will see you very soon,’ she said.

  Jennika broke the link, and Luk thrust the vox headset back into its operator’s hand.

  ‘Into the Taurox,’ he ordered. ‘Get us to the mustering point. There’s no time to lose.’

  Danial swam back to consciousness. He blinked, bleary eyed in the gloom, then jerked into wakefulness as he saw a shape above him. Hands gripped him, firmly but gently.

  ‘Da,’ a female voice said. It sounded familiar. ‘Da, it’s all right. It’s me.’

  Danial blinked and took a shuddering breath.

  ‘Suset,’ he croaked, then coughed because of his dry throat.

  ‘It’s all right. Drink this, you must be parched.’ She pressed a canteen into his hands and he sipped. Cold water, brackish but refreshing. He drank greedily, before taking hold of himself and setting the water aside.

  ‘I remember the wall,’ he murmured. ‘We were fighting… then Gorgrok was there and I… I fell?’ He adjusted his position, and winced as pain sent up flares all through his body.

  ‘You did,’ said Suset. ‘I swear to the Emperor, I thought I’d lost you. If you hadn’t been wearing that Emperor-blessed armour, I might have. I had to order the retreat from the second line. We’ve been bottled up and fighting for our lives ever since. But you were lucky. We both were. The sixty-fifth found you during their retreat through the Wyreweavers’ district. They lashed you to the last of their Huntsmen and brought you in just minutes before the gates were sealed.’

  ‘Why–’ Danial broke off, coughing and wincing at the fresh waves of pain it caused. ‘Why are we in the throne room?’ he asked, sitting up and looking around. The huge chamber was dimly lit by chem-lanterns and torches. Hundreds of people packed the throne room, shadowy figures pressed close together. Civilians huddled towards the chamber’s rear, highborn and commoner alike gathered in knots behind the imposing throne of House Draconis.

  Nearer to hand, Danial saw militia, Knights and Sacristans. Some were busily building barricades between the chamber’s columns, arranging them in concentric rings that faced the main doors. Others were readying weapons, distributing equipment from the Munitorum-stamped crates heaped near the throne, or simply snatching a moment to rest, eat, or stare numbly into space. Others tended to the wounded, amongst whom Danial lay on a stretcher.

  ‘They drove us back to here,’ said Suset. ‘The throne room, the Sacristans’ forge-temple, the Chamber of Ghosts, the armoriums, and a few other places… They’re the strongholds we have left.’

  ‘The orks have overrun everything else?’ asked Danial. ‘How long was I unconscious?’

  ‘You’ve been swimming in and out for about three days, as best I can reckon it,’ said Suset. ‘We’ve fought them every step of the way, Da. Every corridor, chamber, barricade and stairwell, they’ve bled for them. We choked every route into the Grand Strategium with their corpses before we gave it up.’

  ‘I believe it,’ said Danial. ‘You wouldn’t have let it be otherwise.’

  ‘I’ve done everything I can,’ said Suset angrily. ‘It just hasn’t been enough.’

  Danial placed a hand on her arm, but she shrugged it off.

  ‘What of Luk?’ he asked.
‘The relief force?’

  Suset gave a mirthless bark of laughter.

  ‘Impossible to say,’ she said. ‘We haven’t had visibility outside the walls for two days. Polluxis has re-established limited vox within the ’spire, enough to let our holdouts talk to one another. But we lost touch with everything above the mid-spire when the Grand Strategium fell. Garath was leading the rearguard there, herding civilians up towards the space port with a force of militia and a few Knights. If he got up above the squires’ yards and managed to barricade the Scaled Stair then maybe…’

  ‘Garath is as stubborn as they come,’ said Danial. ‘If anyone could do it, he could.’

  ‘True,’ said Suset, nodding.

  Danial realised he could hear the sounds of battle, radiating through the walls from outside the throne room.

  ‘They’re close,’ he said.

  ‘Very,’ said Suset. ‘I’m afraid we may be facing our last stand, if they keep coming. It’s why I had the medicae wake you now.’

  ‘The medicae?’ asked Danial.

  ‘They injected you with stimms, sanctified restoratives and that sort of thing,’ said Suset. ‘If the orks do break through, I thought you’d prefer to face them by my side as High King with a blade in hand, not half-conscious and strapped to a stretcher.’

  ‘I don’t imagine the medicae were too happy about that,’ he said with a faint smile.

  ‘They raised quite a fuss about risks, and letting your body rest and heal,’ said Suset. ‘I pointed out that, if the orks overrun us, we’d all have ample time to rest at the Emperor’s side. Until then, the Draconspire needs its High King.’

  Danial nodded and forced himself to stand. Suset gripped his arm and helped him up.

  ‘Still in my bodyglove, then?’ he said ruefully. ‘I was worried the surgeons would have had to cut it away.’

  ‘No,’ said Suset. ‘Percivane wouldn’t let them damage it. Precious archeotech, a gift from the Emperor et cetera. Luckily, they were able to remove segments and do their work then fit it back in place. You need better care than they could give, but you’re functional, at least. Da…’