The Unremembered Empire Part 38

Guilliman stepped forward beside him. Just like the Lion, he too pa.s.sed out of sight, unable to step across. Guilliman shook his head and smiled a sad smile, regarding his failure more stoically than had the Lion. He stared out at his officers.

*I have news,' he said, *which if I cannot cross over I must at least urgently impart to you. First, though, tell me a has Curze been captured? Slain, even?'

*Not yet, my lord,' said Dolor.

*You will update me,' Guilliman replied, nodding. *He must be apprehended. In the meantime, I command you, at once, to prepare the fleet. Visitors descend on Macragge. You must be ready to greet them.'

*It will be done,' said Caspean.

Euten stepped forward.

*I am glad of the sight of you at least, lord,' she said. *Curze told me you were dead.'

*Curze told you?' Guilliman asked in alarm.

*Curze almost killed our dear lady last night, my lord,' Caspean explained.

Guilliman started forward, grave concern plain on his face, and took her by the hands to comfort her.

*Are you well? Did he hurt you?' he asked.

She smiled.

*I am well now, lord,' Euten said. *I am well now. Look. What did you wish for?'

Guilliman looked down and realised that he had stepped across.

*I did not wish for anything,' he admitted, *except that you were unharmed. Evidently, I needed to be here, to make sure of your safety.'

He looked back at the Lion. He had never seen his brother so stricken with frustration.

Guilliman faced the field and reached out his hand.

*Give me your hand,' he said.

*I cannot!' the Lion cursed.

*I need you here with me, brother,' Guilliman insisted. He leaned in, seized the Lion's hand through the edge of the field, and pulled.

The Lion stepped through into the Reading Room.

*How did you do that?' the Lion asked Guilliman.

*I think,' said Guilliman, *that I am more open with my needs and my hopes. I do not sequester them as you do, brother. The field could not read you. In that theoretical there is perhaps a practical that we both might heed.'

The Lion hesitated, then he nodded and placed his left hand around their already clasped right hands.

Behind them, Dantioch shifted painfully on his wooden throne. His latest efforts had sapped much of his strengths. He looked at Polux.

*Will you go?' Dantioch asked Polux.

*I think the field will permit me,' Polux replied, *for I need to be on Terra, and Macragge is one step closer, but I fancy the mysteries of the Pharos might be more expediently uncovered if comrades work together.'

Dantioch held out his hand. Polux took it.

*I will be glad of the help, Alexis,' he said.

*As I am already glad of yours,' Polux replied.

Polux looked out of the field at Guilliman.

*I will stay here for the while, lord,' he said, *with your permission. We will work to unravel further the mysteries of this light, and this link.'

*With my blessing,' said the Avenging Son. Polux saluted.

*Tell me about Curze,' Guilliman asked his officers. *How close are we to finding him? What other crimes has he committed?'

*There is much to tell,' said Dolor.

*But first,' said Euten, *you say we are to ready the fleet? For whose arrival? Who comes to Macragge, Roboute?'

*Another brother,' said Guilliman. *Another Angel.'

22.

Where the

Hammer Fell

*Death must occur so that life may prevail.'

a literal translation of the

ciphered rune of the Cabal

He came back to the place where the sky had dropped him.

Dawn had stolen in, grey and damp. Magna Macragge Civitas seemed wounded and tense, its golden l.u.s.tre dimmed. Beyond the shimmer of the city shields, the coastal wind brought the grumble of thunder, and an oceanic storm threatening to blow inland and break against the sheer wall of the Hera's Crown mountains, thus shedding its rain upon the old city.

Vulkan came back to where the sky had dropped him, his mind dislocated and hurt, his garb a bloodied mis-match of purloined plate and sub-suit. His hands shook. He recoiled from shadows. His eyes smouldered. Sometimes, he chattered nonsense sounds at the sky or the earth.

The earth had once been his friend. The heat of that friendship was long gone. Vulkan's mind simmered with a fire of its own. It was hotter than any fire of the earth-rock, hotter than any magma, hotter than any core.

Sometimes he fell to his knees, and moaned or sobbed, and touched his hands to the ground and then to his face, marking his ebon skin with dust as grey as ash.

Curze had tested him by exploring the limits of his unusual life beyond its breaking point. Curze had to pay for that.

Vulkan was subliminally drawn to the object that would be pure enough to deliver his vengeance.

John glanced at Damon and nodded. They hurried across the empty street, the mumble of distant thunder in the air, and clambered their way into the burned-out ruin of a building.

The air smelled of soot and charred paper, and also of chemical fire-r.e.t.a.r.dant. John could feel the heavy rain sizzling off the city shields high overhead. He wished that the shields were down, so that the rain could purge the site and wash the city clean. Magna Macragge Civitas was a city at war, however, and its armour was permanently buckled tight.

Damon Prytanis drew his pair of sling pistols. It was a deft, oft-practised gesture: slip-slip, from under his fur coat. He checked their loads. John knelt, and opened his carrybag.

*You think he's here?' Damon asked.

John nodded, unwrapping the parcel he had pulled from the bag.

*Hunch, or clear read?' asked Damon. *It makes a difference.'

*Clear read,' John replied. *This is where he landed.'

Damon looked at a brick arch above the entrance to the building's quadrangle.

*The Antimon Machine Works,' he read. *It's seen better days.'

*He hit it like a meteor,' John replied. *Set the place alight. It was a good thing the building was derelict.'

John rose. The fulgurite spear, unwrapped, lay in his hands.

*Is that it?' asked Damon Prytanis.

*Yes.'

*Not much to look at, is it?'

*The most potent things often aren't,' John replied.

*S'why the ladies love me, Johnny,' Damon smiled. He waited. *Nothing? Not even a courtesy laugh?'

*Let's get on,' said John Grammaticus. *I'm not getting any younger.'

Damon regarded him quizzically.

*I thought we had to wait for... you know... the other primarch,' he said. *It's got to be another primarch who does it, right? Isn't that what they had foreseen?'

*Yes.'

*So we need the other primarch?'

*No,' said John.

*No?'

*I've thought about this,' John said. *A primarch would be ideal, but I don't think it's essential. We can do it, either of us, you or me.'

*No, that's not what they told you,' Damon began uneasily.

*Maybe, but we're on the ground, and we're making the choices now,' John replied. *Curze is too dangerous. He's too much of a liability. We can't control him; we can't even predict what he'll do. In fact, that's the point. Curze is psyk-invisible most of the time, so they can't have foreseen him in this situation. If the Cabal had known Curze was the only option, they wouldn't have gone for it.'

He looked at Damon.

*If we're going to do this, and do it right, it has to be us. It has to be me.'

Damon Prytanis gave him a long, probing look.

*You're not trying to pull some crazy s.h.i.t on me, are you, Johnny?'

*No.'

*Johnny?'

John Grammaticus turned to look at him.

*For Terra's sake, Prytanis. We're about to do something that'll change the course of galactic history. We're about to betray our kind. Again. I just told you I'm prepared to do that. So give me a break, okay?'

John had the spear in his right hand. He held out his left.

*Can you spare one?' he asked.

Damon looked down at the twinned sling pistols he was wielding and realised what John meant.

*Nice try,' he replied with a dark chuckle.