He looked back at Oshi sleeping on the bed. It would be easy enough to hand her over. He’d only had her for a day, and she wasn’t even his child. But he couldn’t, because he knew what would happen if he did. Algeros and the others would kill her, probably right here, right in front of him. Just the thought of it made him angry, made him want to fight.
‘No deal,’ Kavel called. ‘Now get off my farm before I call the captain of the militia!’
‘You’ve been out here too long, Kavel. You’re out of touch,’ Algeros smiled wolfishly. ‘I am the captain of the militia.’
Then he nodded to the others, and together the five men started towards the house.
Kavel looked desperately around him for something he could use to keep them back. His eyes found the amasec bottle on the bedside table. He grabbed it and unscrewed the top, then picked up an old rag from the floor and quickly stuffed it into the mouth of the bottle. He struck a match and set it to the rag. He ran to the door, yanked it open, and threw the burning bottle at the approaching men. It broke on the ground and the fire spread outwards with a roar, catching three of the men and a row of Kavel’s nafar plants. The three men went up in flames, but to Kavel’s horror they didn’t scream or flail or even stop walking. All five of them continued marching towards the farmhouse until finally the three burning men collapsed to the ground, dead. Algeros and the one remaining villager didn’t look frightened or concerned. They didn’t so much as blink.
Kavel slammed the door and locked it, but he knew that wouldn’t hold off the two remaining men for long. He ran to the chest at the back of the house, passing Oshi, who by some miracle was still sleeping soundly on the bed. Unfortunately, that was about to change. With a loud bang, the door shook in its frame as the men put their shoulders into it. Kavel threw open the chest and pulled out his shotgun. There was more banging against the door. Part of the doorframe splintered, and then the door burst open. Awakened by the noise, Oshi began to mewl and squeal.
The two men stormed inside. Algeros dashed for Oshi while the other villager ran at Kavel. Remembering he’d already pumped a round into the chamber last night when he thought voraks were eating his crops, Kavel didn’t waste a moment before firing off a shot. It struck the villager in the arm, shredding his skin to a pulpy mess, but the man didn’t cry out. He didn’t even flinch. Kavel pumped another round into the chamber, but the man was upon him before he could pull the trigger.
The man spun and hit Kavel in the face with his elbow, knocking him backwards. Kavel tripped over his metal prosthesis and fell on his back. The man loomed over him. Kavel swung the shotgun up and pulled the trigger. The blast hit the villager in the chest, punching a red hole through his torso and blowing him across the room. He didn’t get back up.
Kavel saw Algeros moving towards the door, carrying Oshi. He got up and started after him, but his haste made him clumsy. He tripped over his prosthesis again and fell to the floor. By the time he got back up and hurried outside, he didn’t see Algeros anywhere. He scanned the edge of his fields, shielding his eyes from the fire as a section of his crops and the three dead bodies burned. He listened for Oshi’s cries, but for some reason the baby had decided now was the perfect time to be quiet. Something heavy struck him in the back of his good leg, and the next thing he knew he was on his belly with a mouthful of dirt. Algeros came around from behind him, cradling Oshi in one arm, and kicked the shotgun away from him.
‘You should have handed over the child when you had a chance,’ he said. ‘I was seriously considering letting you live, for old times’ sake.’
‘Mighty nice of you,’ Kavel said.
Algeros shook his head. ‘Being a farmer all these years has made you soft and weak.’
‘Give her back to me.’ He struggled to stand, but the metal prosthesis swung out from under him and he fell into the dirt again.
‘Or what?’ Algeros asked. ‘Look at you. You’re pathetic.’
‘Or I’ll take her back.’ This time, Kavel managed to stand.
‘I see.’ Algeros put Oshi down on the ground. ‘If you insist on going to your grave tonight, Kavel, so be it.’
Kavel started towards him, ready to beat Algeros to a pulp with his bare hands if he had to, but Algeros was ready for him. Before Kavel had a chance to take a swing, Algeros bent and rammed his shoulder into Kavel’s gut. Kavel fell back with the wind knocked out of him. Before he could catch his breath, Algeros spun and kicked him square in the chest. The blow sent him tumbling across the ground to land sprawled out near a pile of farming tools.
Kavel fought to catch his breath. The pain in his side was sharp and intense. He wondered if he’d broken any ribs. Before he could get up, Algeros appeared in front of him, silhouetted by the fire. He straddled Kavel and put his hands around his throat. Kavel struggled for breath and batted at him with his fists, but it was no use. Algeros squeezed harder, gritting his teeth, choking him.
Kavel reached into the pile of tools, desperate to find anything he could use as a weapon. His fingers closed around the handle of something he couldn’t see, but which he hoped would be good enough. He hefted it, saw it was a trowel, and with the last of his strength drove its flat, pointed blade into the side of Algeros’ head. The trowel pierced deep into his skull, and Algeros fell to the ground.
Kavel rolled over onto his uninjured side, coughing and sucking in air until he was strong enough to stand. He ran over to Oshi and picked her up. He looked her over for any injuries, then breathed a sigh of relief when he saw she was unharmed.
She started to wail as he carried her back inside.
Kavel gathered everything he needed from the farmhouse: his shotgun, which he reloaded back up to eight rounds using the last of his shells; a change of clothes; the few credits he had squirrelled away to buy amasec; and as many tubes of nutrient paste as he could fit in his bag. More people would come soon. If Algeros Stormhand really was the captain of the militia, there was no way his disappearance would go unnoticed. More would follow, searching for Algeros and his men, and most likely looking to finish what they’d started.
His only chance was to run. Take Oshi and leave the farm before they came. But run where? His mind worked through the options quickly. To the north and south of him were rivers too wide to cross without a boat. If he went east, he would be entering the heart of the village, but if the captain himself had come for Oshi it meant nobody there could be trusted. To the west was the space port. That was his best bet. If he could pay someone for passage on their freighter, he and Oshi could get lost among the stars where no one would find them. But it was a risky plan. There was no way to know if anyone he approached at the space port could be trusted not to try to kill Oshi. On top of that, he’d never gone off-world, and his head swam with the stories he’d heard of the horrors that waited out there, things that made even the orks seem tame by comparison. But to stay on the farm was too great a risk. He had to take the chance.
Oshi hadn’t stopped crying since he’d brought her inside. Kavel took his bag and shotgun in one hand and Oshi with the other, and ran outside to where his truck was parked. Its hold was empty; he’d brought his last harvest of nafar leaves to the processing plant a couple of days ago. This was a good thing: with an empty hold the truck would move faster. He tossed his bag and shotgun into the cab, then placed Oshi in the passenger seat. He tried to get her to stop crying, but nothing seemed to work. After what she’d been through, he couldn’t blame her. He only hoped she would cry herself to sleep soon. He settled into the driver’s seat and hit the ignition switch. Nothing happened. He hit it again, and a third time, but the engine remained silent.
‘Throne,’ he cursed. He hopped out of the cab and opened the engine covering. Inside was a mess of cut wires and smashed gears. Kavel cursed himself. Before they’d come to the farmhouse, Algeros and his men had made sure to disable his only vehicle. He should have known.
He
would have to walk. It meant being exposed and vulnerable. It meant trusting he could keep his balance on his metal prosthesis for an extended period of time while travelling over rough terrain. But what other choice did he have?
He took Oshi out of the cab. She squirmed and fought him, trying to break out of his grasp, but he kept a tight grip on her. What was wrong with her? He’d never seen her like this before. There was no way he could carry her and the bag, so he stuffed a tube of nutrient paste in one pocket, his credits in the other, and took the shotgun. He started walking west towards the space port as quickly and carefully as he could. The last thing he needed now was to trip over his damned peg leg. Without the truck he couldn’t take the road, but that was just as well. It was easier to hide in the fields and forests.
When he reached the edge of his farm, he turned to look back. The fire was growing. The amasec that had acted as an accelerant had burned off, and all that remained of the three villagers who’d caught fire were smouldering bones, but the flames were spreading through his crops, devouring them. Soon everything would be gone – the nafar, the warrior weed, maybe even the farmhouse. Not that he cared. He wasn’t planning on coming back. He’d grown to hate this place over the past ten years. He wasn’t going to miss it. It had been as much a prison as a farm, and his only regret was that he didn’t have time to watch it burn.
He felt a pang of regret about leaving Rahmiel behind to burn with the crops, but that was all. He ducked into the woods. He travelled slowly, making sure to find his footing on the uneven forest floor so he didn’t fall, and cradling Oshi close to his chest. She wailed and screamed, tears and mucus wetting her face. Kavel gritted his teeth. If she didn’t shut up, she would lead the others right to them. But nothing calmed her – not humming to her, not rocking her, not changing the way he held her. She was like a blaring siren in the night, a noisy homing beacon, and all he could do was pray no one heard.
There was only one building between his farm and the spaceport, and that was the processing plant – a massive industrial structure that covered two hundred thousand square feet. When he came out of the woods, the ferrocrete and plasteel facility towered over him. Small lumens illuminated the perimeter of the plant like tiny stars.
They were waiting for him on the grounds of the plant, silhouetted in the lights, a group much bigger than the one that had come to his farmhouse. Kavel stopped in his tracks, his heart jackhammering against his ribs. They stood as still as statues, but he knew if he turned and ran he wouldn’t make it far. There were just too many of them. He counted more than thirty men and women in the crowd before he gave up.
A cloaked man stepped forward, his features hidden in the darkness of a hood. Kavel assumed this was their leader. ‘Give us the child.’
Kavel put Oshi down on the ground at his feet, then pumped a shell into the chamber of his shotgun. ‘Come and get her. I killed the last bunch who tried. I’ll kill you, too.’
But he only had eight rounds in the shotgun, and there were more than eight of them. A lot more. If he fought, it was doubtful he would win or even survive. But at least he would die a soldier. At least he would die serving a noble purpose, protecting an innocent child from those who would do her harm, rather than wasting away on some damned farm from boredom and loneliness.
The villagers started towards him. Kavel levelled his shotgun and fired off a round, hitting one man in the chest. The man fell, but the others kept coming, so focused on Kavel that they trampled right over their fallen comrade’s body. He shot into the crowd again and again. Some fell and were stepped over, while others just kept coming, as if the pain didn’t matter. It was as though the whole village had gone insane and wouldn’t rest until they’d murdered Oshi.
There was only a single round left in the shotgun. As the villagers closed the distance between them, Kavel found he had a clear shot at their leader. Maybe he was the one responsible for all this; maybe if he took the leader down the others would stop. He aimed the shotgun at the hooded man, praying he wouldn’t miss. His finger tightened on the trigger, but suddenly the weapon flew out of his hands, wrenched from his grasp by an unseen force. It spun through the air to land thirty feet away, well out of reach. Kavel stared after it in wide-eyed confusion and terror. What in the warp…?
The villagers poured over him in a swarm. He tried to fight back, swinging his fists wildly, but he was overpowered quickly. A crush of bodies brought him to the ground. He watched helplessly as an elderly woman picked up Oshi and carried the baby to the hooded man.
‘No!’ Kavel cried. ‘Leave her alone!’
The villagers lifted him off the ground and dragged him forward. They threw him down in front of the hooded man, who cradled Oshi in the crook of one arm.
‘Don’t hurt her,’ Kavel begged. ‘She’s just a child.’
‘I have no intention of hurting her,’ he said. With his free hand, he pushed back his hood, revealing a bald, bulbous head with ridges on his forehead that matched Oshi’s, although his were much more pronounced. His eyes were big and piercing, and his skin had a slight purplish tint to it. ‘My name is Drameon, and I’ve come for what’s rightfully mine. What’s rightfully ours.’
Kavel looked up at him in confusion. ‘Yours?’
Drameon smiled. Kavel found it a chilling sight. ‘A child belongs with her father, don’t you think?’
One of the villagers hit Kavel on the back of the head, and everything went black.
When Kavel came to, he was being carried by villagers through a dark tunnel lit by torches along both walls. From somewhere above them, he heard a familiar, muffled sound – the low thrum of a machine-automated harvester. He was underground, somewhere below the vast farmland of Ballard’s Run. How long had he been unconscious? How far had they carried him?
The back of his head flared with a sharp pain where he’d been struck. Why go through all the trouble of knocking him out and bringing him here? Why not just kill him? Drameon already had what he wanted. He had Oshi.
Drameon walked alongside him with Oshi in his arms. The baby looked content, sucking on her fingers and smiling her toothless, drooling smile at the villagers.
The tunnel opened onto a huge, subterranean cavern lit with more torches. In the flickering torchlight Kavel saw hundreds of figures scattered throughout the vast space; some gathered on rocky ledges while others watched from the side or clung to the massive stalagmites that rose from the ground like teeth. More shapes moved in the shadows, avoiding the torchlight altogether.
Kavel bit back a cry of terror. The occupants of the cavern weren’t human. Some were creatures the likes of which he’d never seen before – hideous, deformed beings with bulbous, inhuman heads and three or four arms sprouting from their crouched bodies. Some looked closer to human, hybrid abominations like Drameon that were less hunched and had human-like facial features, although a few of them still sported an extra arm, or hands in the shape of claws.
There were humans among them as well, more people Kavel recognised. Was the whole blasted village here? He looked up and saw a group of women standing on a ledge, their eyes glazed over, their pregnant bellies swollen.
‘You sick bastard!’ Kavel yelled, turning to Drameon. ‘What have you done to them?’
‘A family that does not grow will die,’ Drameon said. ‘There must always be new generations.’
A family? Kavel looked at the bizarre creatures again. This was Drameon’s family?
The villagers set him down. He tried to push through them and run back the way they’d come, but he was easily overpowered. They shoved him against a tall stalagmite and tied his hands together in front of him. Something hissed in his ear. He turned his head and saw one of the three-armed creatures staring at him with sinister, glaring eyes.
‘Long ago, one of my ancestors served the Imperium,’ Drameon said. ‘During that time, he had the great honour of encountering Grandsire Mor
dephus on a distant world. Grandsire bestowed upon him his sacred kiss, consecrating him with his exalted genetic code. When he returned home, he and his wife had children, and those children had children, and so on. Each generation inherited an echo of that sacred kiss, until finally… Oshi. The child foretold. The one we’ve been waiting for. She will be our prophet, her word will be law, a living extension of Grandsire Mordephus’ will. She is the culmination of a plan that spanned generations, the result of a union between our kind and a very special one of yours.’ He tickled the baby under her chin. Oshi laughed and smiled. ‘Now that we finally have her back, she will usher in a new age.’
The three-armed creature inched closer, hissing its hot breath across Kavel’s neck. He cringed as it opened its wide mouth. Its long, wriggling tongue lolled out like a snake from its den.
‘I don’t believe you,’ Kavel said. ‘Oshi’s not like you. She’s not like these things.’
‘Grandsire’s genetic code blesses her just as it blesses the rest of us,’ Drameon said. ‘Soon this whole planet will be blessed with it, and the broodmind will sweep across Ballard’s Run.’
The creature that had been inching closer to him backed away, and behind it Kavel saw again the hundreds of creatures, hybrids and villagers; the women who were carrying more of these monstrosities in their wombs. He found himself thinking of the warrior weed, the way it had come to Ballard’s Run from another world, found a foothold, and begun to spread. These creatures were no different. His village was already infested, but what about the rest of the planet? How far had they spread?
He shook his head. ‘We’ll fight you. We’ve fought worse than you before and won.’
‘How can you fight what is inevitable?’ Drameon said with a grin that chilled Kavel to the bone. ‘We really ought to thank you for keeping Oshi safe until she found her way back to us. You did us a great service, Kavel. We would like to return the favour. Come, it’s time for you to meet Grandsire Mordephus. He has great plans for you.’
The Child Foretold Page 2
