by Darius Hinks
‘These troopers are nothing like enough to face Ortegal’s whole regiment. We have a few dozen men and he has thousands.’ The daemon tapped the alembic with one of its hooves. ‘But once we have perfected our weapon, we will have a better chance.’
Glutt looked at the luminous grubs, still battling to hold back his laughter. ‘How do we perfect it?’
‘We need to test the recipe. Offer one of your men some refreshment.’
Glutt carefully lifted the alembic and shook it until one of the worms tumbled down the spout and into his palm. It moved with furious speed, writhing through his fingers and vanishing into the darkness.
Fluxus’ grin froze. Then it shook its head. ‘No matter. Try again.’
Glutt tipped the glass again and this time he managed to lock the worm in his grip, feeling it thrashing against his palm as it tried to escape.
‘Against the chest,’ said Fluxus, nodding at the nearest of the Guardsmen.
Glutt pressed the worm against the soldier’s bloodstained flak jacket. Black blood sprayed through his fingers as the worm burrowed into the man’s chest.
A second later, the guard gasped, expelling a blast of foetid breath as he toppled to the ground.
Glutt raised his staff, summoning light into the eagle at its head. The darkness pressed against it, but there was enough to illuminate the change jolting through the Guardsman.
He thrashed on the floor for a few seconds and then lay still. After a few more seconds, his clothes and armour flattened against the floor, containing nothing but ash.
‘This is the weapon?’ Glutt laughed, looking back at the grubs. ‘They’re perfect! How many are there?’
‘Several hundred. Enough to wipe out half the commander’s officers before he dies himself.’
Glutt shook his head, his humour fading. ‘No. Not enough. That’s not what I meant at all. We have to bring it all down. The whole system. The whole wretched Imperium. It’s all a lie. If they’re shells then they’re rotten shells. Do you understand? Mankind needs to evolve.’
Fluxus leant closer, blinking its trio of eyes.
Glutt continued, sensing that the daemon understood. ‘Killing one man at a time won’t change anything. We need to infect. We need to create a chain reaction that goes far beyond the flesh of a single host.’ He nodded at the shadowy figures that surrounded them. ‘Not one of them has fallen. Do you see? All we have is a poison. We need a plague. Ortegal said we were a contagion so let’s give him contagion. Let him suffer! Let him oversee a sector-wide catastrophe. Let him die in ignominy. In disgrace. Let the whole galaxy hear of his failure. Then I will reveal what I have become and what others like me may become. Then people like me will know that there’s hope. That they don’t have to feel ashamed of their gifts. That they can rise up. That they can be who they were born to be.’
Fluxus laughed. ‘You are ambitious.’ Then its face grew serious. ‘But perhaps you have a point. I brought you here for a reason. I had a suspicion you might say something like this. This place is unnatural. We could do things here that would be impossible elsewhere.’ The daemon looked into the darkness. ‘And I have bought us plenty of time.’
‘Are you sure? That noise we heard… Will the cancrum hold?’
‘Of course. The empyrean is in our veins. If we keep bleeding ourselves into the cancrum, the Blackstone will take months to break through it. It is not of this galaxy. It does not understand etheric beings such as us.’
Glutt shook his head, excited by the implication. ‘Us?’
‘Yes, you too. You cast off your human shell on Sepus. You are more than that now. Take your combat knife. Cut your arm.’
Glutt hesitated, but the daemon’s smile overcame his doubts. He drew out his knife and pressed the tip into his forearm. Nothing happened. There was no pain. No blood. He pressed harder and drew the blade up his arm, cutting a line into his skin. It parted to reveal a hard, black shell.
The daemon smiled. ‘Evolution.’
Glutt touched the strange, bristly armour. Rather than revulsion, he felt pride. He had always known he was more than human. And now he had proof.
The daemon led him back to the cancrum wall and, following its lead, Glutt pressed his hands onto it.
‘Open your thoughts,’ said the daemon. ‘Let the cancrum into your mind. Let your mind into the cancrum. See how secure we are.’
Glutt did as he was asked. With the needle’s eye forgotten, it was shockingly easy to reach out. His conscience rippled out across the shell, feeling every crevice and burr. There was liquid pulsing through it, a bloodstream, carrying its life force, but this was the blood of gods – heady and potent, shimmering into every corner of the cancrum. The cocoon was as big as a city, miles wide and several feet thick, like the walls of a vast fortress. Fluxus was right. What could break through something so impenetrable? Beyond the wall was the alien. Unfathomable, Fluxus called it, and it was. As Glutt tried to peer into the darkness beyond, his mind turned back on itself, baffled, fractured by thoughts too strange to grapple. He felt the power of the place, pummelling against the daemon’s sorcery, immense and full of wrath but unable to break through – as confused by them as they were by it. He smiled. Fluxus was right. They had as much time as they needed to create an apocalypse.
Glutt was about to remove his hand when he sensed something else. The Blackstone hurled more strangeness at him, trying to redirect his thoughts with glimpses of alien landscapes and impossible geology, but he pushed through, sensing duplicity. The Blackstone was trying to trick him.
Fluxus appeared in his mind. Where are you going?
Glutt reached further, beyond the tumult outside the walls. His mind glided through impassable gulfs and bewildering puzzles, homing in on the area that the Blackstone seemed most keen for him to avoid.
‘Someone’s here,’ he muttered.
Where?
‘Outside the cancrum. Someone is approaching.’
Impossible.
‘I see his soul, Fluxus. A psyker like me. Coming here. He’s close.’
Show me. The daemon sounded irritated as it placed a hand on Glutt’s eyes.
He felt its presence, disembodied, beside him as he fixed his gaze on the psyker.
You have such power. Fluxus laughed, shocked.
The storm of visions grew more ferocious and Glutt almost lost his grip on his prey, stymied by an influx of thoughts. Hundreds of voices flooded his mind, babbling, screaming and praying. The Blackstone was trying to bury the psyker, hiding it beneath a torrent of other minds. Glutt pressed on, partitioning his mind until a vision swam into focus: a group of travellers inside an obsidian stone.
We must not let them reach us, said Fluxus.
‘Why? What harm can they do if even the Blackstone can’t drive us out?’
They’re coming here with a purpose. That chamber will bring them here. The Blackstone can’t comprehend us, but maybe they will. One of them is gifted in the same way you are. We can’t risk it. We must send them astray.
‘How?’
We’re in the heart of the fortress. That’s why the Blackstone is so outraged by our presence. We can redirect the chambers from here. I’ll teach you how. Glutt saw the daemon’s essence, gliding on past the black crystal and scouring the surrounding levels. Then the daemon laughed. There, that should be enough to make sure they don’t come any closer.
Glutt followed the daemon’s gaze and nodded, smiling.
10
Draik tried to free his hand from the oil, but it was locked in place. He instinctively tried to reach in with his other hand, but it bashed against a hard surface. The oil had solidified. His hand was embedded, wrist-deep, in a stone block.
‘What is this?’ he demanded, looking at Taddeus. ‘Did you know this would happen?’
Taddeus held up his hands, smiling. ‘Once we reach t
he vault, your hand will be yours again.’
He was about to reply when Audus cursed.
‘Is this rising?’ she asked, staring at the inky pool they were all standing in.
Draik looked down and saw that the liquid was already up to his thighs.
‘This was all predicted in my writings,’ said Taddeus. ‘There is nothing to fear. This is the Emperor’s will.’
‘What is it?’ asked Audus. ‘Oil?’
‘The lifeblood of the fortress,’ said Taddeus. ‘Who knows what it is. It won’t harm you. Put your trust in the Emperor.’
Isola was looking desperately around the chamber for an exit, but every facet was identical – each polished plane reflecting the growing panic within. ‘I’ve never seen this in any other maglev chamber. We’ll drown.’
‘No,’ said Grekh. ‘Listen to the priest.’
The group fell quiet as the black liquid rose, washing up over their stomachs and chests. Vorne was the shortest, and they all turned to look at her as the liquid crested her chin and crept towards her lips. She showed no fear, keeping her eyes locked on Taddeus as she whispered a final prayer. Then, the liquid rose over her mouth and nose. For a brief moment, they could see her eyes, staring out above the oil, then it washed over her stubbled scalp and she was gone, no trace of her visible beneath the surface.
Soon after, Draik felt the liquid edging towards his own mouth. He closed his eyes. Every instinct screamed at him that this was wrong, and as the surface rose to his lips he took a final, deep breath and held it. The fluid rippled over his skin, filling his nostrils, pooling in his eye sockets and finally closing over his head.
Draik opened his eyes. To his surprise, he saw, rather than pitch dark, the chamber as it was before. The surface of the liquid was above his head, shimmering and mobile when seen from beneath, like a rippling ceiling, but beneath it nothing had changed. Isola looked back at him, relief in her eyes. Emissary Corval was patting his helmet, checking the joins. Grekh barely seemed to have noticed and Vorne was still mouthing prayers, her eyes locked on Taddeus.
The surface of the liquid rose higher, until it reached the chamber’s ceiling, then it vanished.
‘What is this? I don’t…’ Draik hesitated, surprised by the sound of his voice. It was muffled, like a distant echo, and he wondered if, despite appearances, they were in liquid. He moved his free arm and felt resistance, as though he were underwater, his muscles straining to move, but when he inhaled his lungs filled with air.
‘The atmosphere,’ said Taddeus. His voice was deadened and strange, like Draik’s, as though coming from another room. ‘It’s different in some of the chambers down here. Richer. We’re in the heart of the fortress.’
‘We’re there?’ Draik shook his head. It had been too easy. Something seemed wrong.
Taddeus smiled and nodded at Draik’s hand – the one embedded in the rock.
The rock was liquid again. He pulled it free with ease.
As he did so, one of the wall facets slid away with a muted clang, revealing another chamber. Taddeus stepped from the maglev chamber into the larger room beyond and the rest of the group followed, leaning forwards and walking slowly, as though crossing a seabed.
Taddeus had only taken a few steps when he turned and struggled back towards them, his face pale. He seemed unable to speak, shaking his head as he dragged Pious Vorne out to look. She grimaced and grabbed her scalp, clearly dismayed.
‘What is it?’ asked Draik, looking past them into the chamber.
It was different from any they had seen so far. Dark, again, but not entirely black this time. There was faint light radiating up through the floor. It was enough to reveal that the chamber was a long, straight gallery. It was fifty feet or so wide and disappeared into the distance. It was constructed from the same black substrate, but there was none of the skewed geometry they had seen before – just a straight, unerring passageway that vanished into the gloom. The ceiling was smooth and unadorned, but the walls were punctuated by hexagonal openings, like windows, every ten feet. They looked out into pure darkness.
‘What’s wrong?’ asked Draik, peering down the corridor. He could see no sign of danger.
Taddeus stared back at him, horrified.
‘This is the wrong place,’ said Vorne, gripping the preacher’s arm and looking around in dismay. ‘The maglev has taken us somewhere new.’
‘Somewhere I have not seen,’ muttered Taddeus, staring at his journal. ‘A place outside of my visions.’ He glared at the shadows, as though seeking someone to blame. ‘We have been misled.’
‘Of course it’s not the same place,’ said Audus from the doorway. ‘These things never repeat the same route.’
Taddeus glared at her, gripping his mace. Audus calmly drew her pistol and pointed it at Taddeus, raising an eyebrow. Vorne grabbed her flamer in both hands and took a few steps back, preparing to fill the passageway with fire.
‘Wait!’ snapped Isola, shoving Vorne’s flamer and pointing it at the ceiling.
‘Something’s down there,’ muttered Draik, ignoring the scuffle and looking down the gallery.
The argument went forgotten as they all looked into the darkness. Draik’s implant whirred and clicked, trying to focus on the shadows. He glimpsed movement – something humanoid – but then it was gone.
‘I saw it too,’ whispered Isola. ‘A man.’
A sound drifted towards them. The leaden atmosphere muffled it, but to Draik it sounded like breathing, or sniffing; like a predator on the scent of prey.
Audus lowered her pistol, the sneer falling from her face. ‘What is that?’
They were still staring down the passageway when they heard a dull clunk behind them. The maglev had sealed itself. The only way was forwards.
Draik triggered the lumen on his pistol and stabbed it into the darkness. ‘Move,’ he said, his voice still muffled. ‘Even if we could get back into it, the maglev won’t go anywhere now. We can’t stay here.’
Taddeus opened his book and began flicking frantically through the pages, shaking his head. ‘I have never seen this. The chamber should not have brought us here. We’ve been tricked.’ He looked around the group, his eyes settling on Audus. ‘Someone has double-crossed us.’
Audus laughed and shook her head in disbelief.
‘Or someone here lacks faith,’ said Pious Vorne, still gripping her flamer.
‘Oh, sure,’ said Audus. ‘Burn the witch. Everyone loves a show.’ She waved her pistol at the walls. ‘The Blackstone plays games. That’s what it does. You must have noticed.’
‘Not with me,’ said Taddeus. ‘My visions have never led me astray. Every time I–’
Draik held up a hand to silence them. ‘We need to move. It’s not safe to wait near a maglev. Not safe to wait anywhere, in fact. Whether you know this route or not, your excellency, we have to go.’
‘Go where?’ Taddeus slammed his book shut and looked around the group. ‘Who will lead us? How will we choose a path?’ He looked back at the maglev. ‘We must find a way to make it return. We must go back to the antechamber and try again.’
‘The captain has already explained,’ said Emissary Corval, stepping from the shadows and looming over the group. He tapped his cane on the faceted shell. ‘These transportation chambers become inert after each journey. Even if we waited here for days, and survived, this door may not open again for another year – another ten years.’
Isola was still staring into the darkness ahead of them. ‘There are turnings,’ she said. ‘How will we decide which to take if the preacher has never seen this place?’
‘I can tell you,’ said a voice.
It took Draik a moment to realise it was Grekh.
‘Have you been here before?’
Grekh shook his head. He had finished chewing the fragments of shell and was pursuing one of his ot
her peculiar activities. He had crouched down, taken a knife from his bag, and was tracing the blade around the edge of his shadow. The surfaces in the Blackstone seemed to be indestructible, so his knife left no mark on the floor, but he was utterly focused on his task.
‘But you know the route?’ Draik could not hide his doubt.
Grekh nodded, continuing to trace his shadow.
Draik shook his head and looked back down the passageway. He could feel Isola staring at him, full of doubt. ‘We will find it,’ he said, without looking at her.
Nobody spoke. Apart from Grekh, they were all watching for his lead.
‘Your excellency,’ he said, turning to Taddeus. ‘This atmosphere.’ He forced his arm slowly through the dense, heavy air. ‘You said it’s because we’re in the heart of the Blackstone, is that right?’
Hope flashed in the preacher’s eyes. ‘True.’ He looked at Pious Vorne, who nodded eagerly back at him.
‘So we can’t be too far off course?’
‘No.’ Taddeus grabbed his rosarius and muttered a prayer. ‘That’s true. I have spoken to many explorers and only those few who reached the utmost depths experienced this.’ He walked over to Draik and gripped his arm. ‘The God-Emperor knew what He was doing when He set you on my path, Captain Draik. He knew this moment would come. His light is in you. I see it. Lead the way. Trust your instincts. They will not fail you.’
Draik was not so sure about that, but he knew they had to keep moving. He had seen enough fatalities to know it was not safe to stay where they were. He nodded and began walking down the passageway, hauling his legs through the thick air with all the speed he could manage, pointing his lumen into the shadows. The others followed, weapons raised, with Grekh finally loping after them when he had finished his ritual.
Draik paused at the first hexagonal window and tried to see out, but it was impossible – the darkness was complete.
Isola stepped to his side, her pistol raised. ‘Captain,’ she whispered, nodding to a distant shape up ahead – a brief flicker of movement in the dark. It was human-sized but seemed unaffected by the torpid air, moving incredibly fast, flickering through the shadows.
