Below her neck, the woman’s skin was dark purple and covered in overlapping plates. A secondary set of arms sprouted from the middle of her ribcage.
Margene levelled her boltgun at the woman. ‘You. Mutant. Confess your sins, and I will consider them. Who are you? What were you doing out here?’
The woman coughed up blood and said, ‘It’s Ixoi’s Night…’
‘When Lysios’s moon is at perigee,’ Margene clarified.
‘Yes… We escort those who… offer themselves as tribute.’
‘To the Brine Goddess?’
‘Yes. To Shelse. She… she sends the Things That Live Within Her… to satisfy her hunger.’ Her head flopped back and her breathing became ragged. ‘I will devour them, and greatly.’
‘Enough!’ Reciting from her own litany Margene said, ‘From the scourge of the Kraken, Our Emperor, deliver us. From the blasphemy of the Fallen, Our Emperor, deliver us.’
Margene pulled the trigger and the woman’s entire upper half flew apart. She looked up, but Ulrich was gone. She climbed up from out of the crater, and found him kneeling nearby.
He pulled a pair of long gloves from his belt and began to don them hurriedly. ‘Get the containment chamber, Chavis,’ he yelled, ‘and bring it here. Now!’
Margene called to Ulrich, and received no response. She peered over his shoulder to see what was holding his attention so raptly. A segmented piece of tentacle was lying in a shallow depression in the ground. It was roughly the size of her arm. Ten or more smaller cilia sprouted from it like elongated fingers tipped with black talons, and there were bits of red shell near the bottom of it. It rolled and twisted, madly trying to escape from the hole.
‘Is that–’ Margene began.
She was interrupted by Chavis and Erdon rushing past her, carrying the heavy cylinder. They set it down next to Ulrich. Chavis opened the door and waited.
Ulrich finished putting on his gloves. He set his jaw, and then wrapped both hands around the tentacle piece. It immediately began thrashing about. The inquisitor had to fight to maintain his grip on it. With a grunt, he threw it into the cylinder. Chavis slammed the door shut.
The tentacle hammered at the inside of the container.
Ulrich was slightly short of breath as he said, ‘Get it aboard the transport immediately.’
Chavis and Erdon lifted the containment chamber up, and started back to the remaining Taurox. Ulrich peeled off his gloves and put them back into his coat. He looked at her, his face beaming, and followed after the two Scions.
‘Inquisitor,’ Margene said as she came alongside him. ‘There is obviously more transpiring on Lysios than meets the eye. We should send a message to the Canoness.’
‘No, I think not.’
Margene pointed back to the crater. ‘There is heresy here.’
‘There is heresy everywhere, but I will not have that woman rampaging all around and getting in my way. No, I’m afraid that the Canoness’s righteous fury will have to wait until my work here is complete.’
‘Inquisitor, I have a duty to report religious sedition. I promise you, I will make no mention of that… thing in the storage container.’
‘Communications blackout,’ Ulrich spat. ‘That means you don’t talk to anyone, about anything, unless I say so.’
‘I understand, inquisitor, but surely–’
‘This conversation is over. For your sake, we should never have to repeat it.’
He climbed up into the Taurox.
Margene stood alone for a moment, trying to dampen her fury. Somehow, she knew, she had to contact the Canoness. Something on this world was coming to a head, and it had to be stopped before it was too late.
She climbed aboard, slamming the hatch shut behind her. The Taurox’s engine roared to life, and the transport sped away.
The beach was deserted. Only the dead were present to witness the titanic shape that once again broke through the surface of the worldwave. It clawed at the moon, pining for its unreachable love and calling curses down on all of those who opposed it.
‘What will our lives be like, my love, when we are at last united? Will you descend forever and join me, or will you scoop me up in your arms, and carry me back to your abode in the sky? Promise me, O, promise me, we’ll be together soon. The stars begin to fall, and this era draws to a close…’
– Cantos Continuous, M41
Chapter Six
The moon was beginning to set. It was as dark as night-time got on Lysios. To one side, the mountain was a wall of soaking wet rock. On the other was the receding swell of the worldwave. Erdon watched the road carefully as he drove. It was far rougher than it had been when they had used it to ascend the mountain earlier. The passing tide had heaved up rocks and covered it with a thick carpet of weeds and mud. On at least three occasions, warning indicators flashed on the dashboard display telling him that the Taurox was losing traction. That alone spoke to the treacherousness of their route.
Chavis sat in the command seat next to him, also keeping a watchful eye on the road conditions. Both men saw the problem at the same time. Erdon brought the Taurox to a stop.
‘Stay here,’ Chavis said. ‘I’ll take a closer look.’ He got out of his seat, grabbed his helmet from a compartment on the bulkhead, and made his way to a side hatch. In the rear of the Taurox, Margene sat with her head down. Ulrich was sitting on the floor next to the containment cylinder. The tiny observation window was fogged over, and drops of condensation ran down the sides. The tentacle creature had stopped its mad convulsing within the first hour of the trip.
Besides Erdon, he had four other Scions remaining. Five if he included Byrdgon, who was lying in a near comatose state across three seats. His arm was clearly infected beyond the capability of any field medicine. Dark lines had begun to spread across his neck and chest. The others, Brandt, Thieus, Savdra, and Devries, had been patched up with supplies from the Scion’s ‘Martyr’s Gift’ medi-kit, including protein healing salves, suture tape, and in Thieus’s case, a temporary bionic hand.
As he opened the hatch, Margene’s head snapped up. ‘What’s wrong?’ she asked.
‘The road ahead of us looks very bad. I’m going out to see if it’s passable.’
She was on her feet at once. ‘I’ll come with you.’
Chavis jumped down. His wounded leg gave a distant cry of pain that he stoically ignored. The air was cool and wet. Thick mud and weeds made sucking sounds beneath his feet as he walked around to the front of the Taurox. The night became as bright as day thanks to the amplifying lenses in his helmet and his suspicions were confirmed.
They had come to the place where, earlier, the mountainside had crumbled and nearly swept Erdon’s Taurox over the edge and into the sea below. The road was now completely gone. Walls of rock and mud had come sliding down from somewhere above, and the trench they had fought to traverse was now a yawning abyss.
‘Erdon?’ he said into his vox.
‘Here, tempestor.’
‘This is no good. Not even a Taurox could get across a chasm this wide. We’ll have to find another way back to the hab-crawler.’
‘The secondary route to the west?’
‘My thoughts exactly.’
Chavis turned around to go back to the Taurox, only to find Margene blocking his way.
‘Tempestor, I need to ask you something.’
‘Yes?’
Margene considered him for a moment. ‘He who allows the alien to live shares in the crime of its existence,’ she said at last. ‘Would you agree with that statement?’
Chavis’s answer was immediate. ‘Yes.’
‘Of course you do. Any sane person would. But if that is so, then why is the inquisitor bringing that thing back? Why are we letting him?’
‘We aren’t letting him do anything. He does not answer to us.’
‘Doesn’t it bother you to have that thing on board?’ Margene jerked a thumb towards the rear compartment.
Chavis considered the q
uestion for a moment. ‘It’s irrelevant. My mission is to ensure the inquisitor’s safety, and return him to that landing ship.’ With that, he walked past her and back into the transport.
‘What if I told you that it’s still alive? Would that change your opinion?’
Chavis stopped.
‘I managed to steal a glance over the inquisitor’s shoulder a while ago, and I’m almost certain that I could see it moving around inside that cylinder.’
‘Almost certain?’
‘Well… it was hard to tell, but–’
‘Do you believe the creature represents an immediate danger to either yourself or any member of the team?’
‘No,’ she said hesitantly. ‘I don’t… I don’t know.’
‘Then we cannot take any action that would contradict our orders.’
Margene scowled. ‘When it tries to kill me, though, you will make certain to avenge me?’
‘Of course,’ Chavis replied. He climbed back into the Taurox.
‘Sir,’ he called to Ulrich, ‘I need to inform you that the route we used to get to the plateau has become totally impassable. However, there is another way back that should see us arrive by late afternoon.’
Ulrich shook his head, but did not turn his attention away from the containment chamber. ‘It’s simply one delay after another.’
‘I could use that map of yours.’
‘Fine. Just get me back to the lander and off this planet.’ He pulled the waterproofed paper from his belt and tossed it over his shoulder. Chavis caught it in one hand.
‘As quickly as possible, sir.’ Chavis returned to the seat beside Erdon.
Margene climbed up and slammed the hatch shut. Wordlessly, she dropped into the nearest seat and stared into space. It took some time to get the transport turned around. By the time they were under way, the suns were beginning to crest the horizon, and the dialogus had fallen into an exhausted sleep.
The moth was fluttering against the candelabrum. She looked up from her desk where she had been steadfastly copying Onward, Emperor’s Daughters, one of her favourite hymns, to see the little insect’s wings catch fire.
‘Why did you do that?’ she asked it. ‘You should know better. Now you’re going to die.’
She dipped her quill in the inkpot, and returned to her calligraphy. Somewhere in the convent above her, she could hear the choir singing each stanza as she wrote it out, which was odd, because the walls in the scriptorium were so thick that normally she couldn’t hear anything at all.
The moth continued to beat its wings furiously against the candles, even though it was now nothing but a burnt little husk. She did her best to ignore it, and dipped her quill again. However, now her lovely feather had become one of the sharp, poisoned spines that she had helped pull out of Scion Byrdgon. The inkwell was filled with water. It began to bubble up, spilling all over her parchment. The beautiful lines smeared and ran down the page.
The dead moth finally succeeded in blowing out the candles. She stood up to find a taper and relight them. The floor was covered in water. Stumbling about in the dark, she was unable to find either light or the door. The water continued to rise.
Something wrapped itself around her legs. There was an explosion of pain. She could not see it, but somehow she knew that beneath the rising water, cream-coloured tentacles were burrowing into her flesh. As she floated up to the rafters, more and more tentacles reached up from the depths to devour her. She struggled against them, but they were immensely strong. The water covered her face, and she discovered that it was salty. Above her the choir was still singing, but the lyrics had changed.
‘Promise me, O, promise me, we’ll be together soon…’ they sang.
Her lungs burned as she tried to prolong her final breath. The tentacles had now produced razor-sharp claws, and were beginning to slice her legs open. Tiny, unseen mouths were taking bites out of her abdomen and neck. At last, she could stand the agony no more. Her dying scream came out as a stream of muffled bubbles, and then the room shook violently.
Margene startled awake and stared about her. Thieus, the Scion with the replacement hand, was sitting across from her. ‘What happened?’ she gasped.
‘We just drove over something large, that’s all.’
She ran a hand through her hair, and looked down the length of the compartment. No one appeared to have moved very much. Ulrich was still seated by his precious specimen, although his head wobbled as if he were on the edge of sleep. Scion Byrdgon’s breath came in ragged gasps. His body had begun to emit a rank odour.
There was a sudden boom. The Taurox shook as if some giant, petulant hand had picked it up and then thrown it back down. Margene tumbled to the floor. She heard the containment cylinder topple over and strike something. Everything skewed to the left, and she realised that they were spinning. When the Taurox finally came to rest, the air was filled with pungent smoke. Margene held her hands to her nose. Blood was pouring out from between her fingers.
Ulrich was clambering to his feet, cursing loudly. He worked desperately to set the specimen container upright again.
‘Another rock?’ Margene asked.
Thieus shook his head.
Chavis wheeled around in his chair. ‘It sounded like a mine. Scions, gear up and disembark.’
Moments later, Chavis, Erdon, and the others stood outside beneath the blistering twin suns. Erdon had donned a pair of insulated gloves that came up to his shoulders and brought out a large metal case filled with tools. The others had their lasguns at the ready.
The Taurox had come to rest along the perimeter of a circular plaza. A dark blast pattern radiated from the rear left tread assembly. Otherwise, the ground was covered with a dense bed of dried seaweed and fish bones. Patches of lichen bloomed in every nook and cranny. Everything was stained with the powdery white residue of dried salt. The streets were choked with weeds and tumbled blocks of masonry.
They had come down from Mount Loraz and wound their way through a series of wide canyons. The rock walls had been etched with chalky white horizontal stripes, evidence of past water levels. Chavis had been cautious at first. The walls of rock made for short sight-lines, and danger could be around any turn. By mid-morning, however, they had yet to encounter a single soul, and his alertness level decreased. This part of Lysios was apparently uninhabited.
Perhaps abandoned was a better word. They had begun to encounter ancient buildings: a few at first, but then growing in number and density. Chavis checked the inquisitor’s map. They were passing along the edge of a small city. Whatever name it might have once gone by had been drowned and lost three thousand years ago. Its once mighty rockcrete towers and walls were now just a series of crumbling foundations and rubble piles, worn smooth by so many passing floods.
Erdon squatted down next to the Taurox. With one hand, he groped behind the damaged section. ‘Pressure-sensitive mine, all right.’
‘Home built?’ Chavis asked.
Erdon shook his head. ‘No. This was military.’
‘Who would plant explosives out in the middle of nowhere like this?’ Devries asked.
‘An excellent question,’ Chavis said.
‘One we don’t have time to answer,’ Ulrich said. He was standing at the top of the rear boarding ramp. ‘Let’s move on.’
Erdon withdrew his hand. His glove was stained with some dark liquid. He sniffed it, and then held it aloft. ‘Tempestor, that’s fuel.’
Chavis lowered his head and exhaled slowly. ‘Repairable?’
Erdon stood up. ‘Patchable, yes, sir. Enough to get us back to the hab-crawler. But if we’ve lost too much fuel…’
‘I know. Get to it.’
Ulrich threw his hands in the air, and returned to the inside of the transport. Erdon crawled beneath the Taurox while the others kept watch. He worked for nearly half an hour before finally emerging.
‘I’ve managed to patch it, sir,’ he told Chavis, ‘but there’s a fair amount of shrapnel damage underneat
h.’
‘Do we have enough fuel to make it back?’
Erdon shook his head.
‘We’ll need to consult the inquisitor, then.’
‘Consult him about what, exactly?’ Ulrich called. He had been sitting just inside the rear ramp.
‘About our next move, sir. I would recommend, since our transport no longer has enough fuel to make it back to the lander, that we contact the Battle Sisters and request an evacuation.’
Ulrich stood up and marched down the ramp. ‘Absolutely not.’
‘Sir, the alternatives are–’
‘Tempestor!’ Brandt cried. He had perched himself on top of a high mound of moss-covered bricks. He waved a hand in the air, signalling that something was approaching their position.
‘Scions,’ Chavis barked.
Devries, Savdra, and Thieus hoisted their guns to their shoulders. Erdon quickly dropped his insulated gloves and grabbed his volley gun.
The sound of engines drifted on the wind. With squealing tyres, a trio of groundcars came tearing around the corner of a ruined building. Each one had six wheels and no roof. They were packed with men in uniforms the colour of faded sandstone, with dark blue piping along the seams of their trousers. Their boots and armour were scuffed and weathered. The majority of their weapons appeared to be large-calibre projectile rifles, but Chavis counted at least three serviceable-looking grenade launchers. None of them wore any kind of hat or helmet. Their hands and faces were sunburnt and blistered, and each of them looked as if it had been months since their last good meal.
‘Autonomous fire sanctioned!’ Chavis yelled.
The groundcars spun wildly, and the men aboard them opened fire. Bullets ricocheted off piles of rock and the armour of the Scions. Two of the uniformed men hoisted a portable rocket launcher between them. The missile they let loose slammed into the side of the Taurox in a thundering ball of fire.
Chavis and the Scions returned fire with everything they had. The four soldiers in the lead groundcar were all struck in the centre of their torsos. The heat of the las-bolts melted their body armour and set their clothing on fire. Erdon had finished readying the volley gun. He struck their car with a howling salvo of las-fire that tore clean through the armour plating around the engine. The vehicle went up in a pillar of smoke and flame.
Shield of Baal: Tempestus Page 6
