In the space of a single night, the Unfleshed had butchered most of the Screaming Eagles, Colonel Verena Kain and Mesira Bardhyl. Who would be next to die?
It all came back to the Killing Ground.
Those who had taken part in the massacre of the people of Khaturian were being killed and a chain of events had been set in motion that might see Salinas engulfed in flames of battle. Worse, Leodegarius obviously thought that whatever had possessed the Unfleshed might be serious enough to warrant the destruction of Salinas.
Uriel had watched one world burn at the hands of the Inquisition and was in no mood to see another die. Whatever the truth of what was happening on Salinas, he would fight alongside the Grey Knights to prevent further death, assuming he passed the Judicium Imperator.
His very soul rebelled at the idea of fighting Leodegarius, but what choice did he have? To refuse to fight would condemn him, but to take arms against a fellow warrior of the Imperium was anathema to him.
To even fight such a sublime warrior was galling, but the idea of besting him seemed inconceivable, ludicrous even. Uriel was wounded, battered and drained, where Leodegarius was in peak condition. It would not be a fight; it would be a shaming defeat.
Uriel Ventris, however, was not a warrior who gave up easily.
On Pavonis, when faced with the awesome, star-destroying, power of the Nightbringer, he had stood against it and denied it a vessel that would have magnified its powers a hundredfold. He had faced the might of a Norn Queen in the depths of a hive ship and defeated her. He had marched into battle on the blasted surface of a daemon world and defeated the daemons and devils that populated its blasted hinterlands.
He would face this challenge and meet it head on.
It was the only way he knew.
Questions of the outside world were irrelevant, for he could do nothing to alter the outcome of what was happening beyond these walls. He could do little enough to alter his own circumstances, but he settled himself upon the cold stone floor and began to prepare for the coming fight.
Uriel closed his eyes and controlled his breathing, directing his body's energies into healing and restoration. Time slowed to a crawl and Uriel felt every muscle, bone and hair on his body as his awareness turned inwards.
He could not actually heal his wounded flesh in the manner of some psykers, but the mental energies of a Space Marine were such that with carefully directed thought patterns, learned over decades of study and application, he was able to focus his energies in replenishment.
Uriel's throat ached where a blade had pierced it on Medrengard, the wound long since healed, but the scar and memory of it remaining. The burning ache in his hand where the holy oils had scalded him terribly faded to a dull ache. His chest tightened where a vengeful spine of the Norn Queen had pierced his flat, ribless torso, and amongst all these hurts, he recalled the memory of a hundred others.
Each would have killed a mortal, but his Astartes frame was proof against such injuries and he had survived them all, coming back stronger from each one. He would come back stronger from this as well.
Uriel knew in his heart that he was no traitor and that his flesh was not corrupt. This was not hubris or overweening pride; it was something he just knew, deep in his soul. The very idea that he could be corrupt was intolerable and even had Leodegarius not required this final test, Uriel would have demanded it, for how else could all others know for certain that he had returned from the Eye of Terror with his soul still his own?
Only approbation by a body as august and respected as the Grey Knights would erase any doubt as to his fidelity in the minds of his battle-brothers.
To return to Macragge without such a seal of approval would be unthinkable, and Uriel suddenly saw how naive he had been to think he could just walk through the gates of the Fortress of Hera without it. While his fellow battle-brothers would accept his word as true, (for what Ultramarine would ever countenance lying to his fellows?) Uriel knew that he would be forever suspect in the eyes of others without the Grey Knights' acceptance of his purity.
Yet, how could he hope to prevail against the might of Leodegarius?
Uriel allowed himself a moment of martial pride as he saw again the mighty foes he had bested in combat, the enemies who were dust in the wind while he was still alive and able to fight.
So long as there was life, there was hope, and while there was hope, Uriel Ventris would fight.
TIME PASSED, THE darkness flowing around Uriel like a living thing. When he judged that his mind and body were as ready as they could be for the coming fight, he stood and allowed the blood to flow around his body at an accelerated rate.
Though he could see nothing around him, Uriel moved through the basic martial exercises of the Adeptus Astartes, working each of the muscle groups to empower them for combat. Uriel stretched and tensed in long, slow moves, gearing his physique for the stresses and demands of killing.
If anything, the darkness enhanced his exercises, forcing him to rely on his other senses as he spun and advanced, his hands and feet, knees and elbows killing weapons. The pain of his hand was forgotten, the rotten stink of the burned meat a distant memory.
His lungs burned and his heart beat a furious tattoo against his ribs as his body changed from its meditative state to that of a deadly fighting machine. With the basic exercises complete, Uriel moved into more exotic manoeuvres, leaping and twisting in the air as he fought imaginary foes from memory.
At last he dropped to one knee, his fist a millimetre from the ground and released a pent up breath. Uriel stood and ran his hands across his skull, the feel of the brisdes unfamiliar, but welcome.
'Light,' said a voice in the darkness and Uriel shielded his eyes as blue fire sprang to life around him. His eyes quickly adjusted to the light and he saw that he was surrounded by a host of silver-armoured warriors. Each warrior carried a tall polearm, the blades sheathed in a haze of energies that were the source of the blue fire.
Twenty-five Grey Knights stood to attention in a circle around him, the plates of their gleaming armour flickering with a shimmering blue-steel glow. Leode-. garius marched from the circle of warriors. The leader of the Grey Knights had stripped from his armour and wore a loose-fitting chiton of white, a training uniform similar to that worn by the Ultramarines when not in armour.
'You have put your time to good use, Uriel Ventris,' he said.
'Time spent not honing my skills is wasted time,' replied Uriel.
'Just so,' agreed Leodegarius. 'It has been three days. Let me see your hand.'
Uriel had all but forgotten the pain of his wounded hand, but nodded and lifted it towards Leodegarius without breaking eye contact. A chirurgeon followed the Grey Knight, hissing pipes and gurgling tubes looping from beneath his robes. A brass armature emerged from the chirurgeon's sleeve, bearing a clicking device similar to an Apothecary's narthecium. The device extended towards Uriel's hand, bathing it in a golden glow that felt like warm honey was being poured over his skin.
The light vanished and the chirurgeon nodded to Leodegarius before backing away.
Uriel looked down at his hand and was amazed to see that virtually all trace of the horrific wounding was gone. The flesh was pink and new, raw and tender to be sure, but unmistakably whole once more.
Leodegarius reached out and turned over Uriel's hand, carefully inspecting the flesh. Uriel could tell that the Grey Knight was pleased by what he saw.
'The flesh heals well,' said Leodegarius. 'I do not believe I have ever seen anyone recover from the Ordeal of the Oils as quickly as this.'
'Then, we are ready to fight?' asked Uriel, stepping back.
'You sound eager,' said Leodegarius.
'I am,' replied Uriel, 'not to fight you, but to prove myself.'
Leodegarius nodded. 'I understand,' he said, turning away, 'but we will not be fighting here.'
'Where will we be fighting?'
'Where all can see the Emperor's judgement upon you,' said leodegarius.
'Follow me.'
URIEL SET OFF after Leodegarius as the Grey Knight led him from his place of confinement. An arched tunnel of dressed ashlar led through what Uriel guessed was the bedrock of the palace. Their route twisted through ancient tunnels, cut in ages past, and adapted by the later builders of the palace.
Rough-hewn tunnels became iron-framed corridors before blending into ceramic-walled chambers with high domes and glaring lights. There appeared to be no sense of order to the subterranean architecture, with passages meandering off at odd angles and the same tunnels returning after too short a time to have led to anything useful.
The Grey Knights marched in perfect step, their pace unhurried, but covering the distance with a kilometre-eating stride. A detachment of warriors went before Uriel, nine behind him and the remainder at his sides. Leodegarius led them and a host of censer bearing acolytes created a living fogbank that moved ahead of their procession.
Storerooms, forgotten chambers, armouries and barracks passed and as they entered a low corridor, Uriel heard a number of voices raised in agitation coming from somewhere ahead.
The tunnel opened up into a wide, circular space with a high ceiling and a grey drum tower in the centre of the chamber. The walls were lined with cells that all faced the circular building and Uriel instinctively recognised this place as a kind of prison.
'It is a Panopticon,' said Leodegarius, guessing Uriel's thoughts. 'Guards are positioned in the building at the centre and the prisoners have no way of knowing when they are being watched, because they cannot see inside. They have no way to avoid being seen, so must control their baser impulses lest they suffer punishment.'
'So fear of retribution, not devotion to the Emperor ensures obedience?'
'Just so,' agreed Leodegarius with distaste. 'Something that might very well be said for this entire planet.'
'Why are we here?' asked Uriel.
'To gather your companion.'
'Pasanius?'
'Yes, he has been kept here since he too passed through the ordeals.'
'He's going to fight you too?'
'He will fight alongside you,' nodded Leodegarius, crossing the chamber to stand before a cell where the welcome sight of Pasanius greeted Uriel.
His friend was unbowed and Uriel saw that his remaining hand was as raw and pink as his own, but clearly healed from its immersion in the boiling oils.
'Uriel!' cried Pasanius, his relief obvious. 'Your hand?'
'Almost as good as yours,' said Uriel as the door slid open and Pasanius stepped from the cell. The two warriors embraced, relieved beyond words to find each other alive, and Uriel released his friend from a crushing bear hug.
'Are you ready for this?' asked Uriel.
'You're damn right I'm ready for this,' said Pasanius, angling his head towards Leodegarius. 'No disrespect intended, but these bastards questioned our loyalty. I'm ready for whatever it takes to prove we're not traitors.'
'Your sergeant has been fiercely loyal to you, Captain Ventris,' said Leodegarius, and Uriel couldn't help but notice that his name had now been prefixed by his rank. That had to be a good sign.
'He is my friend,' said Uriel, 'and that is what friends do.'
Leodegarius turned towards the chamber's exit, a tall arch of black stone that led upwards.
'Then let us hope that is enough.'
Flanked by the Grey Knights, Uriel and Pasanius followed them through another series of winding tunnels that eventually opened up to a fortified gateway lined with gunports and which ended at a tall bronze gate.
The gate was open, daylight streaming inside, and Uriel remembered his joy at seeing true light when they had arrived on Salinas. The feeling of being outside again after so long, although it had only been for a few days at most, was sublime and as he marched down a sloping causeway, he was filled with a sense of hope.
That hope was snatched away as soon as he set foot outside and felt the crushing weight of gloom that filled his lungs with each breath. The air was leaden and heavy, the sky pressing down like a monstrous weight upon the day. Threatening clouds scudded above and Uriel was filled with a dreadful sense of melancholy that put him in mind of the ruins of Khaturian.
Once again, he and Pasanius were in the vast flat space where Restoration Day had been declared. The inhospitable parade ground was filled with at least two hundred soldiers and a tight knot of the planet's dignitaries.
A gleaming silver Thunderhawk gunship sat with its assault ramp open behind the dignitaries and Uriel smiled at the sight of such a reassuringly familiar object. Even though the gunship was not in the colours of the Ultramarines, the potent symbol of the power of the Adeptus Astartes lifted Uriel's spirits from the ugly atmosphere saturating the day.
Uriel saw the tower of the Janiceps at the far end of the space and on his right was the decrepit, yet wondrous, Gallery of Antiquities. Craning his neck over his shoulder, he saw the high towers and bleak spires of the Imperial palace.
'Never liked this place,' said Pasanius. 'Now I like it even less.'
'We are to fight here?' Uriel asked Leodegarius. 'What has happened to this place? It feels... dead.'
'The fight will be held before the proper planetary authorities, both secular and holy,' said Leodegarius. 'In order for the Judicium Imperator to mean anything, it must be witnessed. As to what has happened since your incarceration... We will speak of it if you survive.'
On that grim pronouncement, they followed Leodegarius into the centre of the parade ground and Uriel saw many familiar faces gathered to witness the fight. Cardinal Togandis sweated beneath his ceremonial robes of office and Daron Nisato was resplendent in his gleaming black enforcer's armour.
Leto Barbaden was seated on a tall podium, looking simultaneously bored and angered by the proceedings, despite the fact that the fate of two of humanity's greatest protectors was to be decided before his very eyes.
Leodegarius halted before the podium and gave a curt nod of acknowledgement to Leto Barbaden before turning to Uriel and Pasanius.
'Governor Barbaden, these two warriors have passed through the trials of purity as determined by my order and I present them before you that you might bear witness to the Emperor's judgement upon them. No higher authority than the Emperor exists and thus He will have the final say in their fate.'
Uriel blinked in surprise at the Grey Knight's choice of words, recognising in them an implicit threat that Uriel's fate was not Barbaden's to decide. Had the governor demanded their execution in the last few days? Given their previous dealings, it was not beyond the realms of possibility, but Leodegarius's words suggested that such a decision was not Barbaden's to make, not when the Grey Knights were involved.
The Adeptus Astartes stood apart from the rigid hierarchy of the Imperium in a way that some found distasteful, but the Grey Knights were an authority beyond even the autonomy of most Chapters. Their authority was absolute and no one who valued their life would dare to go against their dictates.
It seemed that Leto Barbaden was no exception to this, and Uriel could see that it sat ill with the governor to have to bow before the authority of what he no doubt saw as interlopers.
Barbaden nodded and said, 'These two have brought nothing but trouble to my world, but if your order decrees this combat to be a just and proper trial then I will bear witness to it.'
Uriel hid his amusement at Barbaden's transparent ill-grace, meeting his hostile gaze and returning it with one of his own. His dislike for the governor of Salinas had intensified the more he learned about him. Barbaden's disregard for human life and his actions during the conquest of Salinas were unconscionable and Uriel knew that his crimes must be addressed in the fullness of time.
Leodegarius turned to him and said, 'Follow me to the place of battle.'
Uriel nodded and both he and Pasanius followed the Grey Knight to the centre of a circle that had been etched in silver, like the protective one carved in the stone chamber where he had undergone the ordeals, albeit this was
considerably larger. Grey Knights in power armour took up positions around the circle, the shimmering blades of their tall polearms crackling in the sunlight.
'We fight hand-to-hand, no weapons,' said Leodegarius, 'the two of you against me.'
'That's it?' asked Pasanius.
'What more did you expect?'
'I don't know,' admitted Pasanius. 'I just thought there would be a lot more... ritual.'
'Rituals are for heathen corpse-whisperers and sorcerers,' said Leodegarius, assuming a fighting pose. 'I prefer more direct action.'
Uriel let his mind and body slip into the rhythm of combat, allowing his metabolism to speed up and heighten his senses and reaction times.
'So what are the rules?' he asked.
'You are such an Ultramarine,' grinned Leodegarius, launching a thunderous jab at Uriel's face. The Grey Knight's fist was like a steel piston, bludgeoning Uriel backwards as though struck by a dreadnought.
Blood arced from his split cheek and stars exploded behind his eyes at the force, but Uriel had been hit before and he knew how to ride with the pain of impact. He lowered his shoulder and rolled his neck, twisting his head out of the way of Leodegarius's follow-up hook.
His arm came up of its own accord, blocking a right cross and he launched an uppercut into his attacker's torso. His other fist slammed into the Grey Knight's side and he heard a satisfying whoosh of breath. His burned hand was bathed in fiery heat, the flesh split where it had not fully healed, but Uriel pushed the pain to the back of his mind.
Pasanius swung with his left, but Leodegarius easily dodged the off-balance blow. Leodegarius's elbow hammered into Pasanius's side and his fist slammed like a club into his midriff, driving the sergeant to his knees.
Uriel surged forwards, his fist arcing towards Leodegarius's head, but the Grey Knight had been expecting his attack. With a speed that seemed impossible for such a huge warrior, Leodegarius swayed aside and seized Uriel's wrist. He pivoted smoothly and slammed his hip into Uriel, using the momentum of the charge to hurl him from his feet.
The Killing Ground Page 26
