Fear And Fire Part 7

Verity gave her an odd look. There was once a time when I kept a count. I decided to stop when the number brought me to tears.

Take comfort then that those you attended are at the Emperor's side now.

The Hospitaller gestured to the dead servitors. 'But not all.

'No. agreed Miriya. 'Not all.' From the inner halls of the gallery at the back of the platform a figure approached, a sharp-edged shadow where the dying glow of broken biolumes struck it. 'Stand and be recognised!' called a voice. Miriya returned a nod. 'Sister Isabel, is that you?' Isabel emerged into the flickering light cast from the fires down in the amphitheatre, throwing the screaming crowds a cursory look.

'Sister Superior, it's good to see you're still with us. The Canoness bid me to scout this tier for any fresh threats, but these cloisters are like a maze...' 'Where are the other Battle Sisters?' 'Below in the chapel. It is pandemonium in there. The cathedral has been compromised. Invaders are abroad.' 'I saw their aircraft land,' said Miriya. 'Not a large ship. Less than ten men, I'd warrant.'

Very likely, but we have barely that number of able fighters here-' A crashing salvo of bolt fire from the floors below them cut into Isabel's words and her eyes went wide.

The Sister Superior spoke into the vox pickup on her armour's neck ring. This is Sister Miriya, report.

Who is firing?'

'He's here. Galatea snarled in her ear bead speaker. Vaun. Warp curse him, the witch is here!'

Across the mosaic floor of the chapel the fleeing, shrieking n.o.bles fled back and forth, clouding Galatea's line of sight and that of every other Battle Sister in the chamber. Fallen braziers knocked askew in the panic had set light to tapestries as old as the city itself, filling the vaulted chamber with thick, choking smoke. The Canoness wished that she had ordered her women to bring their helmets: the optical matrix of Sabbat-pattern Sororitas head-gear had a full-spectrum capacity that would render the darkest clouds transparent. But then, they had not expected to face a terrorist attack on this, the most sacred of Neva's holidays, and by the order of the High Ecclesiarch they had only been allowed to carry token weapons into the house of the G.o.d-Emperor.

She glimpsed Vaun and his killers as they moved and fired. They had no need to pick their targets, discharging streams of stubber rounds into silk-clad torsos, firing without aiming. Behind her, the floatingilluminator that dominated the centre of the chapel took a shot in the heart and exploded, showering her with gla.s.s fragments and curls of hot bra.s.s.

The governor. she snapped. 'Where is he?' It did not occur to her to ask after the ecclesiarch. Lord LaHayn was more able to defend himself than the fragile politician ever could be. Years in service to the church had taught LaHayn how to fight against the enemies of order. But Emmel... He was another case entirely. Bom of Neva's best n.o.ble stock, he fancied himself a man of action, but the reality was far less flattering. He was a peac.o.c.k among pea-c.o.c.ks, as much as he played at being a hawk, and was certainly no match for a killer of Torris Vaun's calibre.

Sister Portia was close by, clearing a fouled car-tridge from her bolter. The ritual cloth of ceremony that chapel law required she wrap about her gun had tangled in the mechanism, stopping her from shooting back at the attackers. 'I last saw the gover-nor in the company of Baron Sherring, a moment before the firing started.'

Galatea's adjutant, Sister Reiko, nodded. 'Aye. The baron and his retinue were making for the east ter-race.' She was armed only with an ornate dress sword, and chafed at being pinned down by the ter-rorist weapons, unable to return fire.

The Canoness saw motion as some of Vaun's men dug themselves in behind the ranks of heavy oak pews.

The psyker himself was disappearing into a side corridor.

'He must be stopped. Miriya, do you hear me? Vaun is on the loose inside the tower. He may be moving toward the upper tiers!'

As if it were drawn by the sound of her voice, gun-fire came her way, clipping at the ancient mosaics in the floor near Galatea's feet.

'Quickly, quickly!' snapped Emmel, his hands dart-ing around the folds of his brocade coat. His spindly fingers clutched at a small, fat orb of gold inlaid with ruby studs - a needier pistol from the defunct workshops of the Isher Studio, an antique that dated back to the thirty-ninth millennium. Pa.s.sed down through the generations, the governor had only killed with it once in his life, when he had accidentally shot a playmate at the age of eleven.

The sense of the object in his hand made clear the understanding of how dangerous his situation was. He barked out more commands to a pair of his elite guardsmen and they in turn shoved forwards past Baron Sherring's gaggle of lackeys, pushing through the people blocking the corridor.

'Please, governor. said Sherring, an arch lilt to his voice. 'My flyer is just a little further. It will be my honour to convey you away from this fracas.'

'Yes, yes, hurry up. Privately, Emmel was already entertaining the idea of leaving the ambitious baron on the landing terrace and taking his air-craft to flee to the safety of the impregnable Governmental Citadel.

Unless the men sowing chaos throughout Noroc had stoneburners, he would be totally protected there.

'Such luck. piped one of Sherring's friends, 'such good grace that you thought to bring an aeronef with you, my dear Holt.

'Indeed. said the baron. 'Lucky.

The clanking servitor leading them through the warren of pa.s.sageways turned a corner and sc.r.a.ped to a juddering halt that sent everyone behind it scattering. There was scarce illumination in these narrow cloisters, but the governor's eye-sight was keen enough to see the liquid arc of something thick and oily spurt from the machine-slave's neck. A sound like a sack of wet meal being torn open accompanied it. The servitor gave a peculiar ululating wail and sank to its knees.

'Back!' called Emmel's guardsman. 'Get back, sir.

New shapes emerged around the corner, jam-ming the corridor with blades and guns. At their head was the witch.

'Good evening, gentlefolk. he grinned. 'Ivar's blessing be on you all. I am afraid your flight has been cancelled. An accident with fire has occurred.

'Kill him!' Emmel shouted, somewhat redun-dantly as his men were already firing.

There was a horrible moment when the air about Torris Vaun's body bowed and lensed like a heat haze, and fizzing spurts of molten lead spat away from him. Vaun raised a hand in a blase wave and the two guardsmen began to twitch and scream. Emmel had personally chosen these two from the ranks of his private sentry force for their devotion and fort.i.tude, but that counted for nothing as he watched them die on their feet. Heat radiated from them, along with the burnt-skin smell of over-cooked meat. Thin plumes of fatty smoke streamed from their nostrils and mouths, while the decorative festival ribbons in their hair and beards caught fire in puffs of ignition. Swelling with internal combustion, the guards dropped to the stone floor, burning from the inside out.

Some of Sherring's retinue fled, and they were burned down by the men who followed Vaun. The baronand his closest companion stumbled back-wards, b.u.mping into the horror-stricken governor. Emmel was jerked from his shock and fumbled with the orb-gun. It had been so long, he couldn't remember how to use it.

Vaun came closer. 'You don't dare harm me. Emmel bleated. 'I am a supreme agent of the Emperor's-'

The psyker killed Sherring's pale-faced friend with a needle of yellow flame, the psi-discharge punch-ing the body away down the corridor. He seemed to relish it.

There was a big man at Vaun's back and he nod-ded at the baron with a strange grin on his face. 'What about this one?'

Sherring blinked and his mouth worked in silence. Vaun leaned in close to the baron and looked him over, as if the n.o.ble was a helot on the auction block for purchase. He brought up the still-flaming tips of his fingers and touched them to Sherring's sweaty cheek. The wet skin sizzled and the baron bit back a cry of anger and pain.

'Just a small fish. Vaun smirked, then with a sud-den savage rush, he clubbed Sherring about the head and left him sprawled on the floor.

The big man took the inert gun from Emmel's fin-gers and tossed it away. 'I am very rich. pleaded the governor. 'I can pay you a lot of money.

Vaun nodded. 'I don't doubt it. He nodded to the other man. 'Rink, take his lordship up to the tier and wait.

Raise Ignis on the vox and tell him we're going to pull out. I want the other ships departing in the next ten minutes.

'And you?'

Vaun glanced back over his shoulder. 'I've come all this way. I can't leave without paying my respects to the lord deacon.

Emmel tried to resist the big man's iron grip. 'I will not go with you.'

In reply, Rink gave him a careless shove and the governor slammed into the stone wall. He stum-bled, dazed and bleeding.

LaHayn propelled himself up to the chapel's pulpit. Smoke hung in thick drifts at head height, masking the disorder spreading around the chamber. The priest-lord drew in a deep breath of tainted air and roared into the vox set into the golden angel on the podium's crest.

'Do not have fear. Heed me, my friends. Discord is what these brutes want from us, do not give them their desire!' Some of the speakers secreted in gar-goyles on the walls were still functioning, and they carried his words about the chapel like low thunder. 'Rally to the altar here, let the n.o.ble guardsmen and the steadfast Sisters of Battle be our shield and sword!'

The aristocrats were a fickle lot, but every one of them had been attending LaHayn's weekly sermons for years, and his words of command were enough to break through their terror and be acted upon. He ignored the grimace that Canoness Galatea shot at him, and from the corner of his eye he saw the Bat-tle Sister snap out orders to the handful of surviving bodyguards, gun servitors and her own Sororitas warriors. A desultory rattle of bolt fire echoed through the chapel from the far nave, lost behind the grey fumes. The attackers had broken off for the moment, probably regrouping.

'All we need do is keep faith and hold, my friends,' he told the congregation. 'Even as I speak, detach-ments of enforcers and Imperial Guard are on their way here to rescue you.' In fact, Lord LaHayn had no way of knowing if that were true or not - but the Lunar Cathedral represented the greatest concentra-tion of Nevan n.o.bility on the planet, and he expected - he demanded - nothing less than the full might of the military to be turned to the matter of their protection.

Beneath his pulpit, the nervous barons and t.i.tled aristocrats cl.u.s.tered in his shadow, around the wrecked tables where earlier there had been piles of the finest foods and rarest liquors. Some of the fountains still frothed and bubbled with heady, pungent wines.

They're coming,' LaHayn caught Galatea's words at the edge of his hearing. 'Stay alert.'

'Have faith in the Golden Throne. shouted LaHayn. The Emperor protects!' From the depths of the smoke, the priest saw shapes moving, and a voice he had hoped never to hear again came with them, mocking and insolent.

The Emperor protects?' said Vaun. 'Not here, He doesn't. Not tonight!

Rink threw Emmel to the floor and placed a large booted foot upon his neck. 'You try to run, and I'm gonna break you. The governor whimpered some-thing, but Rink didn't care to listen. He raised a small vox transmitter to his lips. 'Ig? Ig, you little firebug, can you hear me?' He glanced around the Tier of the Greatest Piety, at the dead servitors and smashed machinery. All about the bowl-shaped ter-race were glowing threads of smoke from the cathedral below.

After a couple of seconds there came a reply, laden with the crackle of interference. 'Bit busy at the moment. Wait.Wait. On the night air Rink's ears caught the distant concussion of something very large and very flammable combusting, somewhere in the heart of the city. Over the static-choked chan-nel Ignis gave a wordless sigh of rapture.

'Better. What is it?'

'Playtime is over. Vaun wants us to start heading home.

'Aw. So soon? I was just warming up.

Rink sniffed. know what he said. Main event's still to come.

'Yeah. Ignis didn't sound happy. 'I'm doing it. We lost one 'copter over the jackyards but that's all. I'll pa.s.s word. Hold tight, Rink. I'm coming to you.

'Don't make me wait. He flicked off the device and dropped it in a pocket.

Emmel sniffed and tried to move. 'Please, listen to me. Let me speak a language you will understand. Money.

Rink showed crooked teeth. 'Go on then.

'I can pay you...'

'How much? A thousand in gold? Ten thousand? A million?'

. The governor squirmed.

'Got it on you?' Rink bent low and spoke to Emmel's face. 'Right now?'

'Uh. Well, no, but...'

'Outta luck, then.

'I don't want to die!' wailed the n.o.bleman.

'And I don't want to be poor. smirked Rink. " can see the nuisance of it.

'Even gold will turn black in hands as corrupted as yours.

Rink spun at the shouted words, grasping for his gun. 'Aw, warps.h.i.t.

Miriya stepped slowly across the terrace, her plasma pistol aimed at the big man. From the corner of her eye she saw Isabel doing the same. Verity hung back in the archway, trying to keep out of sight. 'Listen to me. said the Celestian.

'You are bound by law to stand down and surrender Governor Emmel. Release him or die.

'And then what? You'll let me go on my way, like, with a kiss on the cheek?' He dragged Emmel to his feet, using the man like a human shield. 'No, you get lost, doxy, else I ventilate this runt!'

This is your last chance. said Isabel. 'Your one opportunity to accept the Emperor's light or die in its shadow.

Rink's face creased with anger. 'What? What does that mean, eh? I hate you church b.i.t.c.hes. But you can't beat Rink now, can ya? Can ya?' With a roar, he threw Emmel at the edge of the tier and fired at Isabel with his laser. Miriya vaulted into a dive, rolling hard on one shoulder. She was dimly aware of her Battle Sister trading fire with the thug, but her attention was on Emmel, sliding across blood-slick stone toward a drop that would smash him agains the amphitheatre floor far below. Her gun discarde in her headlong flight, she fell upon the governor a he slipped over the edge and caught a handful of hi heavy coat in her hands.

Emmel's jacket ripped but it held enough t keep him hanging there, suspended hundreds metres above the burning stadium. The muscles i her arms bunching, Miriya dragged him back up The effort of it dazed her, and she cast around.

Isabel had fallen against a dead servitor. Sh seemed injured. Miriya could not see Verity any where... and the big man...

She rolled on to her back as fresh wreaths smoke coiled over the terrace, and the criminal was there, leering over her.

He fell on her with a bone-crushing impact, slamming her against the inside of her ceramite armour.

Miriya's teeth rattled in her head and she tasted copper in her mouth.

A grinning face, breath stinking of tabac, pressed into hers. She struggled against him. He was twice her size and all of it was hard, packed muscle. The sheer weight of the man was enough to force the breath from her lungs.

'Give Rink a kiss, little Sister,' he hissed, licking her cheek. 'Come on. Don't be shy.

Her punches to his ribs and groin brought grunts of pain but nothing more. Rink's eyes nar-rowed and he surrounded her throat with thick hands big enough to crush her skull. She could not pant or gasp. He was going to kill her with her own silence. Miriya tried to dislodge his hands without success.

'Heh. he smirked. 'No sermons for me now, eh?'

Rink bent forward to lick her again, and with one last effort, the Celestian b.u.t.ted him in the nose. She felt the big man's bone crack and blood spurt, but it seemed to do little more than annoy him. Rink's grip tightened still further and the colour drained from Miriya's vision. Everything changed to a gauzy, charcoal sketch, becoming grey and distorted.

A woolly, indistinct noise like the bark of a dog reached her ears, and then Rink rolled off her. It took a long moment for Miriya to realise that there was sticky, wet matter coating her face and torso. She sat up and unceremoniously used her robes to mop the thick offal away. The Battle Sister shook off her daze and realised that Rink, lying there on the tier next to her, was without his head.Verity emerged from the haze with Isabel's bolter in her hands, vapour coiling from the barrel. The gun looked wrong in her grip, the shape of it there almost obscene against the virginal white of the Hospitaller's garb.

'Is he...?'

'Dead?' Miriya got to her feet with a wince. 'I should think so.' She staggered a little and Verity put the gun aside to steady her. 'Where is Sister Isabel?'

'Wounded. Verity did not look away from the headless man.

'Is this the first time you have taken a life, Sister?'

'I...' Her eyes were gla.s.sy and hollow, her gaze locked on the corpse. 'I have given the Emperor's Peace to those who need it many times... But never... I have never...'

'Never killed with a weapon in your hand, in the heat of batde?' Miriya coughed and spat. 'Fortunate for me then that you still remember your training. A little to the left and that shot would have found me, not him.'

With gentle force, the Celestian guided her away to where Governor Emmel lay on the stonework.

On more familiar ground, Verily became efficient and quick of hand, using an auspex-like device to divine the man's well-being, touching him to feel a pulse. She frowned. We cannot take him from this place, Sister.

He has internal injuries that will worsen if we move him.'

We can't leave him here, it's not safe.'

"Vou should summon a rescue flyer to recover him and take him to a hospice. Unless a chirurgeon sees to him, he could perish.' The Hospitaller nodded in the direction of the cathedral. 'Go for help. I will remain here. I can keep him stable.'

Dragging her injured leg as she walked, a pale-faced Isabel approached them. 'She is right, Sister Superior.