Horus Heresy: Mechanicum Part 20

*Leo? You're coming with me?' asked Maven.

*This thing, whatever it is, already got the better of you once before,' said Cronus. *So, logically, you're going to need my help if you're going to take it on again.'

*You're a true friend,' said Maven, so very proud of his brother.

*Shut up and let's go before I see sense and change my mind.'

Maven smiled. *Follow me,' he said, turning his mount and riding into the pallidus.

The hunt was on and Equitos Bellum surged with wounded pride.

Maven welcomed it.

DALIA AWOKE WITH a scream, her hand clutching her chest, hyperventilating as the fragments of the darkness within her skull threatened to spill out and consume her. Serpentine shapes lurked in the shadows, and Dalia hugged the sheets close to her body as she heard the hiss of a draconic breath drawn at the beginning of the universe and saw the gleam of teeth in ever-widening jaws.

A voice in the darkness spoke her name.

Even with her eyes shut, she could see him, the hooded man with the wild eyes and the mark of the dragon burning beneath his skin. Its silver fire was a web of light within his flesh.

She forced her eyes open as the light levels in the hab grew from nightlight to full illumination. Beside her, Caxton stirred, half asleep as he fumbled with the lumen controls.

*What... what's the matter?' he asked groggily.

Dalia's eyes flickered to the corners of the hab, where of course there were no serpentine predators lurking in the shadows to devour her and no hooded man with glittering mercury for blood. She saw a gunmetal grey footlocker overflowing with clothing, the small table strewn with machine parts, and oil-stained walls hung with thin sheets of paper covered in scrawled diagrams. A dripping tap echoed in the ablutions cubicle and an uneaten meal lay in its foil wrapper next to an empty water bottle.

She focused on those simple, domestic items, their familiarity an anchor to the real world and not the realm of dreams and nightmares, the world of dragons and hooded men.

*Are you allright?' asked Caxton, sitting up in bed and putting his arm around her. The haptic implants in his fingertips were cold against her bare skin and she shivered. He mistook it for fear and pulled her close. *I'm here, Dalia. There's nothing to worry about. You just had a nightmare.'

Ever since waking from her coma, Dalia had discovered that she could not bear to be alone. Sleep would not come, and a gnawing terror of sinking down into darkness for all eternity would open like a yawning chasm of emptiness within her. She feared she might never emerge from it should she fall in.

When she had confided this to Caxton, he had offered to stay with her, and though she recognised male desire in the offer, she recognised her own need as well. His moving into her hab unit had seemed like the most natural thing in the world.

They sat there for several minutes, Caxton rocking her gently and Dalia letting him.

*Was it the same as before?' he asked.

She nodded. *The dragon and the hooded man.'

*Every night the same dream,' he said in wonder. *What do you think it means?'

Dalia pulled free from his embrace and turned her head to look directly at him.

*It means we need to leave.'

*I'll wake the others,' he said, seeing the determination in her eyes. She leaned in and kissed him. *Do it quickly,' she said.

2.04.

THE MAGMA CITY never slept, its industry continuing through every hour of the day and night. Despite the crowds of robed adepts, menials and workers that filled its streets, Dalia still felt acutely vulnerable. Their small group was clothed in nondescript robes, a mix of reds and browns that marked them as low-grade forge workers. A common sight on the thoroughfares of Adept Zeth's forge, yet each of them felt as though every eye was upon them.

The constant thrum and low vibration that permeated every surface of the city was more p.r.o.nounced on the streets, and Dalia wondered if they were being watched even now. Throne knew how many different ways there were of monitoring a person's whereabouts, biometric readings, facial recognition, genetic markers, spy-skulls or even good old-fashioned eyes.

*Lift your head up, girl,' said Zouche. *You look like you're up to no good with your head down like that.'

*We are up to no good,' pointed out Severine. *We're leaving the forge without permission. I said this was a bad idea.'

*You didn't have to come,' shot back Caxton.

Severine shot him a withering glance and said, *I needed to come,' as though that should settle the matter. Dalia listened to them bicker, recognising the fear behind it. She understood that fear, for each of them was a member of the Cult Mechanic.u.m, augmented in ways both subtle and gross, and each stood to lose a great deal should they be discovered.

*We have to do this,' said Dalia. *Whatever we unlocked with the Akashic reader, it's hidden in the Noctis Labyrinthus. We have to find out what it is.'

*You mean you have to find out what it is,' said Zouche. *I'm quite happy not knowing.'

*Then why are you here?'

*You said you needed my help,' said the short machinist, and Dalia could have kissed him.

She took a breath and lifted her head. *Zouche is right. We shouldn't look as though we've anything to hide. I mean, look around us, the place is as busy now as it is any other time of the day.'

Blue-tinted lumen globes sputtered and fizzed atop black poles, their gla.s.s reflecting the golden-orange glow from the clouds. Soaring above them, higher even than the silver pyramid of Zeth's forge, was the dark, mountainous shadow of Arsia Mons. The volcano's side had been quarried away five hundred years ago and replaced with the gargantuan structure of Aetna's Dam, its monstrous, cyclopean scale almost impossible to comprehend.

Dalia recognised the name it bore, which had belonged to a legendary fire G.o.ddess of a long dead volcano that rose from the Mediterranean dust bowl of Terra. It was fitting that the name should be appropriated for a rekindled volcano on Mars.

As it had been when Dalia had first arrived on Mars, the Magma City thrived and pulsed with activity, with its inhabitants making their way to and fro on foot and by any number of bizarre mechanical conveyances. Servo-skulls of gold, silver and bone darted through the air, each on an errand for its master, and Dalia wondered which of them served Adept Zeth.

*It may be busy,' said Caxton, *but if any of the Protectors realise we shouldn't be on shift, we'll be in real trouble.'

*Then best we don't attract their attention by standing around yapping like stray dogs, eh?' said Zouche. *Come on, the mag-lev transit hub is just ahead.'

They followed Zouche, trying to affect an air of nonchalance and give the impression that they had every reason to be there, though Dalia suspected they weren't succeeding too well. She could feel sweat running between her shoulder blades and fought the urge to scratch an itch on the back of her leg.

She felt great affection for her friends, knowing that she wouldn't have had the strength or courage to make the journey on her own. She had told them she needed them, which was true, but not for the reasons any of them might expect. Their technical skills would no doubt be useful along the way, but she needed them with her so the dark and terrifyingly lonely void that lurked behind her eyes every time she closed them wouldn't overwhelm her.

She knew Caxton was with her because he was in love with her, and Zouche had come because he was about as honest as a person could be. He had said he would come and he had. He lived his life by doing as he said he would do, which even Dalia knew was all too rare a trait in humanity.

Dalia didn't know why Severine had come, since the girl clearly didn't want to be there and was terrified of losing her status as a Mechanic.u.m draughter. Guilt was what Dalia suspected drove Severine to make this journey, guilt for what they had allowed to happen to Jonas Milus. It was a reason Dalia was uncomfortably aware played no small part in her own determination to discover what lay beneath the Noctis Labyrinthus.

Only Mellicin had not come with them, and Dalia was sad not to have her logical presence with them right now, though that was, she supposed, exactly why she wasn't there. Caxton had gathered them all in Zouche's hab, a sterile and functional chamber that reflected the machinist's austere, no-nonsense character. The only concession to decoration was a small silver effigy of a lighthouse that sat in a corner with a slow-burning candle smouldering before it.

All of them had answered Caxton's summons: Severine looking rumpled and irritable, Zouche as though he had been awake all along and had simply been waiting for them, while Mellicin looked as calm as Dalia could ever remember seeing her.

With everyone gathered, Dalia had outlined the substance and unnatural regularity of her dreams, the imagery and the feeling that she was being summoned to the Labyrinth of Night.

*Summoned by what?' asked Zouche.

*I don't know,' admitted Dalia. *This... Dragon, whatever it is.'

*Don't you remember the stories?' asked Severine. *The dragons ate fair maidens.'

*Then you and Mellicin will be all right,' quipped Caxton, wishing he hadn't when Dalia stared at him in annoyance.

*I had the dream again tonight,' said Dalia. *The same as before, but it felt stronger, more urgent. I think it's telling me that it's time to go.'

*Now?' asked Severine. *It's the middle of the night.'

*Kind of appropriate then, eh?' said Zouche. *We are going to the Labyrinth of Night after all.'

They all looked at each other then, and Dalia could sense their hesitation.

*I need your help. I can't do this alone,' she said, hating the pleading note in her voice.

*No need to ask twice, Dalia,' said Zouche, picking up the silver lighthouse figurine and tucking it into his robes. *I'll come.'

*And me,' said Severine, though she didn't make eye contact.

*Mellicin?' asked Caxton. *What about you? You in?'

The stern matronly woman who had held them together and made them work better in a team than they ever could have managed alone, shook her head. She gripped Dalia's hand and said, *I can't go with you, Dalia, I have to stay. Someone has to finish what we've begun here. Believe me, I'd like nothing more than to go with you, but I'm too old and too set in my ways to go gallivanting around Mars chasing dreams and visions and mysteries. My place is here in the forge. I'm sorry.'

Dalia was disappointed, but she nodded. *I understand, Mel. And don't worry about us. We'll be back soon, I promise.'

*I know you will. And don't call me Mel ever again,' said Mellicin.

They laughed and said their goodbyes before making their way towards a journey into the unknown and an uncertain future.

So lost was Dalia in her memory of saying goodbye to Mellicin that she b.u.mped into a pa.s.sing adept, who stared at her with amber eyes from behind a silver mask. He blurted a hash of irritated binary and Dalia shrank from the force of his utterance.

*Many apologies, Adept Lascu,' she said, reading his ident.i.ty in the noospheric information swirling above him before remembering that she shouldn't be able to read such things without modification.

The adept either didn't notice or believed she already knew him, and pa.s.sed on his way with a final canted burst of annoyance. Dalia let out a pent-up breath and turned as the sleeve of her robe was tugged.

*If you're quite finished?' said Caxton, looking in alarm at the adept's retreating back.

*Yes, sorry,' she said.

*The mag-lev hub is just ahead,' said Zouche, pointing to a bronze archway through which hundreds of people were pa.s.sing back and forth. Dalia experienced a moment of sickening realisation when they reached the archway and she saw the wide steps descending hundreds of metres into the bedrock of Mars.

*They're going to have to go below the level of the magma?' she asked.

*Of course,' said Caxton. *The mag-lev can't exactly go through the lava now can it?'

*No, I suppose not,' said Dalia, wishing she hadn't said anything.

Caxton pulled her on and she quelled her mounting panic as they began their journey downwards. Sizzling lumen strips that flickered and hurt Dalia's eyes illuminated their route along a tunnel thronged with workers making their way to and from their shifts. They marched like automatons a one side ascending, the other descending a all in perfect unison towards or from the metropolis above.

Zouche forged them a path downwards with his squat frame and robust language, and anyone who objected to either soon bit their tongue at the sight of his thunderous stare and bunched fists.

Eventually they reached the bottom, the transit station itself, a gigantic hangar with a colossal vaulted ceiling. There seemed to be no order to the movement of the packed ma.s.s of people, just heaving bodies that moved according to tidal patterns rather than with any purpose.

Robed Protectors bearing crackling weapon-staves and the four-by-four number grid symbol of Adept Zeth policed the energetic scrum of workers, and Dalia tried to avoid looking at them for fear of attracting their attention. Servo skulls bobbed overhead, and grating binaric code spilled from vox-plates set into the walls, announcing departures and arrivals and warning travellers to beware of the void between mag-lev and platform.

*Now where?' asked Dalia, unable to make sense of the overlaid binary instructions blaring from the vox.

*This way,' said Zouche pushing through the crowds. *It looks harder than it is, but after you've ridden the mag-lev once it's easy to find your way around.'

*I'll take your word for it,' said Dalia, taking Caxton and Severine's hands like children on a scholam outing as they set off after him.

Zouche led the way through a confusing series of ceramic-tiled tunnels until they stood on a crowded platform with hundreds of tired-looking workers.

Distorted, wavering blurts of code fragments coughed from battered vox-amps set in wooden boxes mounted on the ceiling, and even Zouche shrugged when Dalia looked at him for an explanation.

*I didn't get a word of that,' said Zouche.

*It said the next mag-lev will be delayed by two hundred and seventy-five seconds,' said a powerful voice behind them.

Dalia flinched at the sound, recognising the harsh, metallic rasp of a human voice issuing from behind a bronze mask.

She turned and looked up into a pair of glowing green eyes.

*Greetings, Dalia Cythera,' said Rho-mu 31.

THE ENEMY REAVER was burning, the top portion of its carapace blown away by Cavalerio's blastgun after a punishing barrage from the Vulcan had stripped it of its voids. He felt the heat build in his left arm as the weapon recharged, and a clatter in his right as the autoloader recycled the mega bolter to fire again.

The enemy engine toppled backwards, flattening an ore silo and sending up a blizzard of flame and smoke. Crushed rockcrete dust billowed from its demise and even as Cavalerio exulted in the kill, he knew the other Reaver was still out there, lurking behind the burning ruins of the refinery, using the smoke and heat to mask its reactor bloom.

*Moderati, get me a ma.s.s reading!' he ordered in a squirt of binary.

*Yes, princeps.'

Information flooded him through the Manifold, a hundred different stimuli collected from the mighty engine's myriad surveyors: heat, ma.s.s, motion, radiation, vibration and shield harmonics. Everything combined to paint a world more real to Cavalerio than reality itself.

He drank the liquid data down, swallowing and digesting it in a heartbeat. His awareness of his surroundings bloomed and he saw the enemy Reaver manoeuvring around the refinery, smashing its way through the walls and roof beams of the nearby steelworks.

A flicker of heat and ma.s.s tugged at his awareness and he felt the stealthy approach of the enemy Warhound before he saw it.

*Steersman, reverse pace, flank speed! Heading two-seven-zero!'

A Warlord t.i.tan was not built for rapid course changes, but the steersman was good and the engine obeyed with commendable speed. The building beside Cavalerio exploded into a ma.s.s of shredded girders, torn concrete slabs and sheet metal roofing. Clouds of vaporised rockcrete billowed, but Cavalerio's engine-sight could penetrate it without difficulty.