The Unremembered Empire Part 30

*Master Prayto declares them all living,' said Gorod, *despite the evidence of this inferno.'

*Then Master Prayto gladdens my heart. You have hard proof, brother?'

*I have my mind,' said Prayto. *We must find them. Indeed, we must find Curze in particular. If he is still at liberty, then he will use this great confusion to sow greater woes. Let us open the gates, bring in the reinforcements, and lock the Fortress down entirely. I will attempt to focus. Perhaps with the aid of other Librarians I can locate the villain in the darkness.'

*You need attention,' said Gorod. *That wound must be dressed and bound. You should go to the medicae hall at oncea'

*The medicae hall has suffered attack too,' said Farith Redloss. *I heard that it was sealed while the trouble was contained.'

*Wait,' said Prayto. *Curze struck all over the Fortress, but the Residency too? So far I had not heard of his acts extending beyond the precinct of the Fortress.'

*I say only what I have heard,' said Farith Redloss.

*Are we haunted by more than one foe tonight?' asked Gorod.

*Let us concentrate on the one we know about,' said t.i.tus Prayto.

The eastern gates of the Fortress rumbled open, letting the stench of fire and smoke out into the cold night air. Attending without, on the pavements and colonnades that linked the Residency to the Fortress, the battle-brothers of the Shattered Legions roused and moved inside.

Niax Nessus awaited them, with senior officers of his Legion and the Dark Angels.

*We are glad of your arms,' Nessus said directly. *Confusion is our enemy. We have good reason to believe that the Night Haunter is still active within the bounds of the Fortress. He must be found. You will divide into search squads, and pair each squad with a team of Ultramarines or Dark Angels. You will move in concert, watch each other's backs, and confirm each other's sweeps.'

*I have a.s.signed areas,' said Holguin. The Dark Angels had, it was clear, taken an almost crippling blow in combat. His determination to proceed was inspiring. *Brothers, Curze is evil and cunning manifest. At any sighting, sound the warning, stay in formation and maintain discipline. He has devoured too many good lives tonight by declaring misrule and disarray.'

*He is a killer, right enough,' Nessus agreed. *Take no chances with your lives, or the lives of the brothers around you.'

Ultramarines officers moved forward and began marshalling the reinforcement force.

*I have studied his art,' Gantulga said to Kleve as they awaited a.s.signment.

*His art?'

*Little is written of the Night Lord's methods, but what is recorded is stimulating.' The White Scar paused. *He fancies himself a hunter, a stalker of prey. That is how he styles himself, at least. But it...'

*What, friend?' asked Kleve.

*It is not convincing. I say that as a hunter myself, and as one who knows hunters. What I have seen so far of his work in the Fortress a it is expertise of a sort, but it is not hunting.'

*His design is to spread terror and disruption,' said Kleve.

*And to wound, and to punish,' Gantulga said. *He risks himself. He places himself at great jeopardy to strike these blows, as though he cares not for his own fate.' He paused and looked back along the gatehouse to where the sentries were preparing to close and bar the eastern gates. The night outside, framed by the ma.s.sive gate arch, was as cold, black and unfathomable as darkened gla.s.s.

*Unless,' he murmured. *Unless, Eeron Kleve, he is a hunter at heart.'

*What do you mean, Gantulga?'

*A hunter takes risks,' said the White Scar, *but never excessive ones. He always protects himself, so that he may hunt again. A wolf stalks a herd, and perhaps causes panic, so the herdsmen drive the animals into a tight fold and pen them. Does the wolf persist? No. It is too open, too exposed. The herdsmen are alert, and they have gathered in numbers. To try to take from the fold would draw down their slingshots and arrows. That is an unacceptable and unnecessary risk for a hunter. So, while the herdsmen are occupied, guarding the herd, the wolf turns to where they are not a the larder, the granary, the stables, the bird cages.'

Gantulga turned, abruptly, and hurried towards the closing gates.

*What are you doing?' Kleve called after him, starting to follow. *The chamberlain was quite specific! This is no time for individual action or improvisation! We are here only if we conform to discipline and command! Gantulga! We have a duty!'

The White Scar turned and looked back at the Iron Hands legionary for a second.

*We do,' he said, *but he's not here. We are here, all of us, circling the herd. He has done what he can, but it is too dangerous for him to be here. There are too many of us. So he has gone where we are not.'

*The Residency,' said Kleve, understanding.

*The Residency,' Gantulga agreed.

He found a hall. It was unlit. It was a private place. His eyes saw all the details, despite the darkness. This was a room for trophies and keepsakes, a room where a proud man kept the relics and reminders of his career: books, charts, coats of armour, weapons.

This was not merely a man, though. Even in its raving delirium, his mind recognised that. This was more than a man. This was a master of worlds, a demiG.o.d.

Here hung blades of great scale a falchions and broadswords, powered glaives and hooked axes. Here were suits of plate and wargear master-crafted for state occasions. Here were the sc.r.a.pes and notches of their service. Here were mantles and cloaks, robes and banners, the raiments and decorations of kingship.

He reached out with b.l.o.o.d.y hands.

The enemy was close.

He needed to be ready.

*h.e.l.lo?'

There was no one there.

Euten paused, and then shook her head. Her nerves were taut. She was jumping at shadows.

She had retired to Guilliman's withdrawing chamber, so recently refurbished and repaired that it seemed half-empty. So many items needed to replaced, and so very many never could. The walls were bare of paintings. The newly installed cognis-signum cogitator device purred softly, and seemed cold and clinical compared to the ancient machine it had replaced.

She poured herself a drink, a small amasec.

The night was bleak outside the windows, cut only by the baleful glow of the Pharos. She tried to ignore the way the low clouds were side-lit and ruddy from the fires in the Fortress.

She sat, but could not settle. Setting down her gla.s.s, she went to the chamber doors. An officer of the praecental guard stood guard outside.

*My lady?'

*I am bothered, Percel,' she said. *Is there really still no word from our Lord Guilliman? Please, good sir. It has been overlong.'

*I will check again, my lady,' the officer replied.

Euten went back into the room and resumed her seat. Her drink remained untouched. She tapped her fingers on her knee.

Her back ached. Her joints were sore. How miserable it was to be human and old, no matter the sciences that prolonged the mortal span. Euten resented the way that her life and capabilities were slowing down. Oh, to be transhuman in measure a to be so strong, to possess such vitality.

The day is not far off, she thought, when I will be of no more use to him, when I will need to be cared for like a child, and my part in his life will finally be over. Soon thereafter, I will be gone from this vale altogether. Have I done enough for him? I have stayed the course, stayed it well, from the days of Konor to this dark night. Surely I can serve him yeta A noise. Was that a knock at the chamber door?

*Come?' she called out.

No one came. A cloud pa.s.sed across the solitary star, briefly.

Why was there still no word from the Fortress?

Euten rose and crossed to the door.

*Percel?'

There was no one in the hall. Glow-globes sizzled softly in their sconces.

He has gone as I ordered, she decided. He has gone to seek word.

The chamberlain went back into the room. She felt that she might fidget herself to death with nervous energy. She felt great agitation. It was ridiculous to be so, in a well-lit chamber, in a fortress-palace, guarded by the best soldiers in Ultramar. Ita She froze.

The name was written plainly on the wall. It had not been there when she had gone to the door. It was there now.

Roboute.

It was written a and Euten knew this even though she knew not how she knew it a in the still-warm blood of Officer Percel.

Horror clenched her. It drove the air from her lungs and the power from her voice. Her heart had never beaten so fast.

On the desk, there was a switch for the alarm. It seemed to be leagues away from her.

She turned slowly, turned in a full circle, waiting to set eyes upon the grinning thing that she knew must be waiting behind her.

There was nothing there. Nothing. Nothing.

Yet the letters of her master's name still trickled red down the wall.

*Who is here?' she hissed.

No answer.

*Who? Who is here?'

Nothing.

She looked around, hunting for detail. That name, daubed across the wall.

*I am not afraid of you,' she said. *I am August Chamberlain Princ.i.p.al of the Five Hundred Worlds, and damaged fiends like you do not frighten me. Show yourself. Be a man and confront me. I dare you.'

What other details had changed while she had gone to the door?

Her gla.s.s. Her gla.s.s. It still sat where she had set it upon the side table, but it was no longer full of amasec. The spirit had gone. The gla.s.s was filled with blood.

Terror touched her heart. She could not fight it. Its fingers were like ice. Like a child, she fell to the floor and scrambled behind the nearest piece of furniture, staying low, crawling into shadows. Maybe she could hide. Maybe she coulda Officer Percel was waiting for her beneath the sofa. His severed head at least. His eyes were glazed. His mouth was half-open, as if in the middle of some great and dismaying surprise. He stared back at her from between the sofa's elegant bluewood feet.

Euten recoiled.

There was someone standing over her, right behind her. His shadow fell across her. He was huge, silent and powerful, and he stank of blood and war.

She wanted to ask him, beg him, to make it quick, but her voice would not come out at all.

He put a ma.s.sive hand on her shoulder. She flinched.

*He's here,' the shadow said. *Stay down.'

She turned and looked up. Axe raised, alert, Faffnr Bludbroder stood over her.

*You stayed,' she whispered.

*We don't leave the hearth,' he replied. He looked down at her. *Stay down. Run when I tell you. I will protect you with every drop of my blood.'

Still cowering, Euten looked around. As silent as falling snow, the other savage members of Faffnr's pack were creeping into the chamber, weapons ready, ears p.r.i.c.ked for any sound or motion. Their silence was extraordinary. They padded like...

...like wolves on snow.

Faffnr sighed. *Now we have it,' he said.

Konrad Curze came out of somewhere. It was not exactly clear where. It might have been a shadow, or a fold of drapery, or even merely a tiny crack in the wall. He manifested. He was monstrously vast, a black shadow, power claws unfurled like the flight feathers of a raven. His hair was a halo of filth. His mouth was impossibly large, a yawning, blackened maw that stretched the thin white flesh of his angular skull as though it would split it. His right cheek was slashed to the bone and clotted with dark blood.

The Wolves went for him without hesitation. Their blades were thirsty.

Only Faffnr stayed his place, loyal Faffnr, covering her, defending her with his blade and body.

*Run now,' he told her.

*I can't run,' she said, barely able to get up.

*Hjold! You'll d.a.m.n well run if I tell you to run, female!'

A blur. Bo Soren swung his axe, but it was stopped dead by curved talons. Shockeye Ffyn lunged with his longsword, but cut only smoke.

Gudson Allfreyer came at the beast, but was smashed aside, spitting blood and broken teeth. Mads Loreson tried to swing, but was blocked by the reeling Allfreyer.

A primarch. A squad of the Legiones Astartes. One locked room. The same locked room. How would history repeat itself? How would it be revised?

The Wolves were the Emperor's executioners.

But Curze...

Malmur Longreach, spear thrusting, and Salick the Braided, axe low, attacked together. One struck home, for blood spattered the floor and the furniture around Euten, but both were knocked aside. Kuro came in, Biter Herek, then Nido Knifeson.

Blades hammered off armour and drew flinty sparks from whirling claws. Curze grabbed Salick by the throat and threw him across the chamber into the wall. Biter Herek buried his axe in the depths of Curze's darkness. Blood sprayed. Mads Loreson went down on one knee, clutching at his torn throat, trying to stem the blood gushing from it. Kuro Jjordrovk sailed across the chamber and demolished a chair and table as he landed.

Curze was laughing. His pale, harlequin face was split by a maniacal grin of delight in bloodshed. He threw Shockeye Ffyn through the chamber windows, which detonated as one sheet like a gla.s.s bomb. He kicked Biter Herek to the ground and cracked his skull with a vicious, armoured, driving elbow. He took Gudson's sword away, broke it across the Wolf's back, then drove the broken blade into Bo Soren's cheek. Malmur grappled with him, and Nido Knifeson joined him.