by John French
He swung, and the lightning-sheathed edge met bone and crystal, and cut the throne in two.
For a second the chamber was still, its substance swallowed in darkness that seemed to run out beyond the edge of existence. The only light was the blue glow of Covenant’s and Severita’s swords.
The sound of water lapping on stone clapped in the dark like a slow pulse.
And then, the Renewed rose from the black water of their creation.
‘Ship at ten thousand increments, one hundred and eight by seventy-two, closing fast.’ The shout jerked Commander Zecker’s head around. The memories of dreams fled.
‘All weapons ready to fire,’ called Zecker. ‘Get me a sensor read, and firing solutions.’
‘Who the hell is it? How did it get that close?’ breathed Luco from beside her.
‘It is broadcasting a signal,’ called an officer, and Kade Zecker heard the catch of confusion in the man’s voice. ‘It is using a cypher that matches the one given to us by the inquisitor.’
‘Confirm that,’ snapped Kade. Her hands were vibrating at her sides. Something was screaming inside her skull to fire now, to spill flame and life into the void.
‘It matches – the ship identifies itself as the Dionysia, under the command of Duke von Castellan.’
‘A rogue trader…’ breathed Luco through his teeth.
‘It’s launching shuttle craft.’
‘Heading towards us?’ asked Kade.
‘Towards the planet’s surface.’
She paused for a second. Cold thoughts ticked through the passing seconds.
‘I don’t like it,’ she said. ‘Bring us between them and the planet. Weapons lock all targets.’
The Valour’s Flame shifted with a rumble of engines.
‘They are holding course.’
‘Ready to fire on my command,’ said Zecker.
‘Commander!’ shouted another officer an instant before the hull shook. Fire swallowed the stars beyond the viewports. Klaxons shouted into the shaking air.
‘Shields inactive across thirty per cent of the hull,’ boomed the voice of a tech-priest.
‘Second ship closing from ten by two hundred and five. We are bracketed.’
‘Throne,’ hissed Luco, his eyes scanning the sensor screens faster than the officer could call it out. ‘It’s a Dauntless!’
Severita spun through the dark of the underworld, bolt pistol firing. Her sword drew red ruin from limbs. The Canticle of Purgation sang through her, in her every breath and every muscle. The drowned dead stood before Severita’s eyes. Their rags were bleached grey, hanging from their flesh like seaweed wrapped around corpses pulled from the ocean. Her eyes saw and her hand moved to strike down what she saw. Bolts struck ragged figures while they pulled themselves from the water. Torsos ripped apart. Limbs and blood fell into the dark water of the lake. Some hit the ground and rose. Their movements were jerky, like sleepers struggling into the waking world. But they were still fast.
‘This is an eventuality that I was not configured for,’ said Glavius-4-Rho.
The grey-robed tech-priest was a pace behind her, slashing out with his mechadendrites at anything that came close. Blood covered the tips of tools and data spikes. Josef was on the other side of the tech-priest, swinging his hammer in wide arcs. Bones and bodies broke as the great iron head slammed into rag-clad figures and lifted them off their feet.
Beyond him, Covenant advanced towards them from the throne dais. Dozens of ragged figures crowded up the steps to meet him. Witch-light crackled around his skull. A figure lunged at Covenant, and fell in a flash of lightning and steel.
Another pulled itself onto the lip of a sarcophagus three paces from Severita, crouched and leapt at her. She pivoted and shot in a single movement, the silent prayer flowing through her as her finger pulled the trigger. The bolt pistol’s muzzle was just beside the figure’s head as it fired. Skull fragments and pulped meat exploded out. Severita felt one of the bone shards cut into her cheek. She ducked as another figure came at her, hands reaching for her eyes. She spun, and kicked the figure in the side of the torso. She felt ribs break under her heel as the force of impact shuddered up her leg. She spun back, her movements locked into a rhythm whose notes were death, and whose music was a devotion to the living god she served. The figure staggered, and lurched forward as she fired.
Severita saw a blow slam to stillness a foot from the inquisitor. The crystal blade glowed from red to white hot in the attacker’s hand. The man’s face twisted, blood-stained sweat pouring from his skin. Covenant stepped forward, psycannon firing again, cutting and cutting with the smooth ferocity of a reaper set before the corn.
Beside her she heard Glavius-4-Rho’s speaker grunt static as a crystal shard struck his chrome cheek and shattered. The tech-priest juddered back, and the attacker lunged after him with a second blade. Lightning wreathed Severita’s narrow-bladed sword as she back-handed it into the figure’s neck. Blood burned to smoke in the sword’s field, as she spun it in a wide arc.
‘Keep behind me!’ she shouted to Glavius-4-Rho, as ragged figures churned the space around them.
‘To the door,’ shouted Josef, pulling the head of his hammer from the mashed ruin of a corpse. The preacher was splattered with blood. It matted black in his hair and clung to his face in beads. He drove forward, muscles surging as he hammered a path towards the light of the door.
Covenant was a pace from the trio of Glavius-4-Rho, Josef and Severita. The Renewed came at them in a ragged tide, moving with the broken speed of people half awake. Some had crystal blades, but some came with just their hands, fingers reaching like claws. Severita and Covenant ran through the press, not pausing as they slaughtered a path. They were almost at the steps that led to the doorway out of the chamber when the tide of ragged figures hesitated. A keening cry rose through the air. The nearest figures shivered beneath their sodden rags. Severita shot three as they stood still. Then they leapt forward, their previous slowness shed like a skin. A figure landed on the steps before them. Witch-light flickered in the torn eyeholes of its mask. Tears of frost fell from its limbs.
Covenant’s impulse-linked cannon fired. A bubble of blue flame formed around the figure, and shattered as the psycannon shell cut through the air and ripped the witch’s legs apart. The figure on the steps fell. Severita pivoted and hacked through two others before they had a chance to recover. Close beside her she could hear the grunting slam as Josef’s hammer rose and fell.
Covenant stepped over the torn corpse of the witch. The man’s hand lashed up at him. Crystal shards wreathed the bloody fist, their points ragged glints of light, the blow snake-strike fast. Severita saw the blow and knew even as she leapt towards Covenant that it would land, and the crystal points would punch through fabric and flesh, and end her master’s life.
Enna rose from the dark behind Covenant. Severita saw the las-carbine come up in her hand.
Severita had never thought of herself as fast. Speed was just a consequence of devotion, of a will, body and spirit balanced and moving towards a single end. But even though she did not think of her speed, she had rarely met another human who had reactions to match hers. But Enna was faster than any warrior she had seen.
The crystal blades reached through the slowed beat of time. Covenant was pulling back, aware of the danger now, but moving too late. Enna fired. The burst of las-bolts struck the Renewed in the head and blew its skull apart. The crystal-studded fist dropped.
Severita looked at Enna. The acolyte’s face was pale, features set as she hosed las-fire into the Renewed swarming out of the dark.
‘Run,’ said Covenant. A ragged halo of cold light had formed around his head. Severita saw his face for an instant, eyes flashing, shadows drawn across his features in a mask of cold rage. ‘Run now!’
The wave of telekinetic force ripped out from him. Splinters of
stone showered up from the shattered floor. Limbs snapped as ragged figures flipped into the air. Covenant charged. His sword scythed through torsos. Lightning and burning blood flared in its wake, and Covenant was cutting again as he moved. The psycannon on his shoulder reversed, and fired at a figure lunging towards his back, and then they were all running, sprinting for the door, and the path back to the light. Away from revelation.
They ran through the underworld of Iago. On and on they climbed, breath sawing from their throats. Muscles burning, but unable to rest. Swift feet followed them in silence. Enna paused and pivoted back to fire down the tunnel behind them. She counted the seconds as the charge in her las-carbine drained. Bolts of light shredded the dark. She was not sure if any of the Renewed still followed them, but if they did she was not going to let them close enough to find out for certain.
‘Moving!’ she shouted, and stopped firing. The charge indicator on her carbine shone amber as she ran up the tunnel, passing Covenant where he had turned to cover her. Severita turned as Enna passed her, and Covenant began to run. Enna felt the drug cocktail in her veins buzzing at the edge of her senses as it supressed fatigue. She caught up with the labouring figure of Josef, and the tech-priest, and saw a circle of daylight in the distance.
‘Almost there,’ grunted Josef.
Enna nodded and was about to turn to cover Covenant and Severita as they passed.
‘There is someone there!’ panted Glavius-4-Rho, suddenly coming to a halt in the middle of the tunnel, sensors swaying, cogs clicking in the exposed cavities of his skull.
Enna twisted to look back down the tunnel past Covenant, but it was dark and silent.
‘Outside the tunnel mouth,’ hissed Glavius-4-Rho.
Enna felt cold and stillness spread through her. Covenant was level with her but he slowed, and she sensed the tension spread through them all.
‘Could the Renewed have reached the surface before us?’ she asked.
‘How many?’ asked Josef.
‘I can’t tell,’ said Glavius-4-Rho.
‘Lor–’ Josef began to say.
‘Covenant…’ the word rolled down the tunnel, echoing, rolling with the crackle of amplification. ‘We must speak. I do not wish blood, so do not provoke me to shed yours.’
Enna focused on the tunnel mouth beyond the barrel of her gun. She recognised the voice. She thought of the corpse of Talicto in the underworld they had just fled; she thought of his words, and the silver quarrels that had pinned him to his throne of bone. Killed by another inquisitor…
‘Lord, that is…’ began Josef.
Covenant glanced at the preacher for a second, and then began to walk slowly towards the circle of daylight beyond the tunnel mouth.
‘No one raises a weapon or fires a shot,’ he said as he moved. ‘If there is going to be a fight, the first blow will be mine.’
The heat and light fell on Enna like a hammer blow as she stepped from the tunnel mouth. Covenant and the others halted in the glare of Iago’s monochrome sky. The hum of charged energy weapons greeted them. Ten figures in graphite grey armour stood in an arc around the tunnel mouth. Mirrored visors hid their faces, and power packs buzzed on their backs. Augmetic bracing ran across their shoulders and down their arms. Enna took in the heavy weapons in their hands, heat fuming from their charge coils. Behind them stood a figure in gold and pearl-white Terminator plate, and beside him the figures of Viola and Cleander von Castellan. Sweat was running down the rogue trader’s face to stain the collar of his heavy naval coat. Viola’s face was a pinched mask of controlled rage.
Covenant looked at the figure, and then turned his head slowly, eyes moving across the mirror-masked troopers. The psycannon followed his gaze, then moved back to Vult as he looked at the von Castellans.
‘He caught us cold, my lord,’ said Cleander. ‘I… I am sorry.’
Covenant gave a small nod. Then he turned his gaze on Vult.
‘Do you mean this as an expression of peaceful intent?’
‘I intend to talk with you,’ said Vult.
‘To talk…’ said Covenant, nodding and looking away as though considering the words. The psycannon stayed steady on Vult. ‘To talk… What is there for us to talk about?’
‘Unity,’ said Vult, and the word rasped from the silver breath mask beneath his hood. ‘Unity of purpose.’
‘A strange way to begin such a conversation.’
‘Prudence,’ said Vult. ‘After all that has happened, how can I not be careful?’
‘And how can I not presume that you are an enemy?’
‘If I was,’ said Vult, ‘then I could have killed you without you ever realising I was here. I could have had your shuttle burned from the sky, or shot you before you stepped into the light. I could have killed your servants and destroyed everything that you have ever touched. I did none of those things.’
‘But you are here,’ replied Covenant, ‘and I did not invite you.’
Vult paused, then inclined his head as though conceding the point. He gestured and the arc of troopers stepped back, readiness in their relaxed stances. Enna felt the sense of threat pressing on her nerves reduce, but not vanish.
‘I do not know you as well as I ought to,’ said Vult. ‘That is my failing. Your deeds, though, of them I do know something. You are a fine servant of the Emperor. Relentless, unflinching in action, focused in intent. Your master would have been proud.’ Enna saw a muscle twitch in the still mask of Covenant’s face. ‘You did not know that I knew him?’ said Vult, and Enna saw that the inquisitor lord had noticed the same tick. ‘I knew Argento, not as well as I should have, but I knew him. You are very like he was when he was young, Covenant.’
‘He is dead,’ said Covenant. ‘His influence on me died with him.’
Vult nodded.
‘My intention was only to show you that I am not as much of a stranger to you as you believe. I knew Argento had died, but not how.’
‘A new-born saint killed him,’ said Covenant. Vult breathed out, and looked up at the rust-rotted face of the macro-ingot rising above them.
‘His belief in the Thorian ideal… I told him that it would be his undoing.’ He shook his head, and the gesture, so natural in a normal human, rippled monstrously through the Terminator plate. ‘The belief in holy salvation, in avatars of divinity… what is it, but an enabler of discord, and a justification for fanatics?’
‘What is any belief?’ asked Covenant. ‘The difference is whether it is true.’
The two inquisitors held each other’s gaze.
‘Is this why you came here,’ said Covenant, ‘to argue belief and doctrine? Is that what your principles lead you to, words and debate over matters that defy reconciliation? Words strangling action until humanity is gasping for air.’
Vult shook his head.
‘Believe it or not, but I am here as more of a friend than an enemy. And my principles do not stop me from putting aside my difference of opinion. In fact, they demand that I am here, that I find a way to make the Emperor’s domain strong, that I try to find a way of saving you.’
‘Saving me… or judging me?’
‘There are matters that have to be addressed,’ said Vult. ‘There are others, several others, who wish you dragged back to the ashes of Aspira’s shrine in chains, others still who do not wish you even that dignity.’
‘I am not a dog that comes and barks at their whims. Their anger and your suspicion are fire that gives smoke but no heat.’
‘This is where the cult that committed the attack came from, a resurrection cult, and you of the Thorian view. You accuse a figure renowned amongst our Ordo of heresy, you survive a massacre that follows, and then flee before facing any question… Please give me another suspicion, other than that you brought about the deaths of your peers.’
‘They and you can believe as you like,’ said Cov
enant and gave the smallest of gestures.
‘Do not shrug at me, boy! Do not dare!’ Vult’s voice roared out, snarling with rage and amplification. Enna felt cold snap down her spine. ‘Chaos is here. It is eating our bones, and those who can act sleep in ashes, or fight each other. We are failing. Mankind is dying. Do not dare to dismiss that as though it is nothing to do with you.’
Vult’s armour growled as servos flexed beneath the plates. Enna could almost feel the anger radiating from him in burning waves. Then, like a shutter closing over a lamp, the force of his anger was gone. Enna almost blinked with the change, and Idris’ voice spoke from memory.
‘What makes an inquisitor is willpower,’ she had said. ‘The will to face the truth of the universe, and act. In some that strength of will is like stone, unyielding and immovable; in others it is like a river, without shape but with the power to level mountains; and in a few it is like a sword, its edge sheathed until it cuts.’
‘In truth there is no choice,’ said Vult, his voice a controlled rasp. ‘I have your ship, and the ship that brought you here. If we do not reach an understanding, then here you remain.’
Josef snorted, but Covenant smiled. Enna felt a shiver of shock. Covenant raised an eyebrow, glanced around Enna, Severita and Josef, then back to Vult. The smile was still on his lips. He shrugged.
‘And what of you? What do these crows of judgement say of you? A daemonhunter who hides his face like an occultist of old, an ally of Talicto, the convener of the conclave that became a massacre – for all your reputation, do you stand here as judge, or as a man wanting allies and finding few?’
Enna felt her heartbeat rising to fill the seconds of silence. Her drug glands itched in her throat. Her nerves sang with readiness. The hot air shimmered against the migraine brightness of the sky.
Vult raised a hand. Enna slowly drew a breath. The weight of the gun in her hands filled her. The first three shots she would take hung in her mind, waiting for her to let them free. The daemonhunter lord reached up to his face, and released the silver rebreather. The face that looked at them was worn thin with age. Skin the colour and texture of dry parchment hung from sharp bones. Beads of polished jet dotted his chin and right cheek, the stones bonded with the withering flesh. Pale blue eyes moved in deep sockets. Scabs clustered on his lips, and Enna could tell that he was forcing himself not to show that without the mask he could barely breathe. There was strength in his face: ferocious, terrifying strength.
