by Dan Abnett
Alizebeth looked like she was asleep. Her skin was as pale as the snows of the high Atenates.
'Is she alive?' I asked Antribus.
'Yes, sir/
'I mean… without these vital supports, the stasis field-?'
'If we shut them down, she may remain the way she is. But she might also fade. It is never easy to tell in cases of such significant injury/
'Will she recover?' I asked.
'No/ he said, caring enough to look me in the eyes. 'Except for some miracle. She will never regain consciousness or mobility/
'So she's dead to us? Has she any quality of life?'
4Vho can say, sir? She's not in any pain. I believe she is dreaming an endless, tranquil dream. If you consider that to be cruel, we can disconnect the machines and let nature take its course/
He withdrew. Crezia appeared at my side.
'What are you going to do, Gregor?' she asked.
'I won't turn the machines off. Not yet. My mind's too full of that bastard Glaw. I'll make a decision afterwards.' If there is afterwards, I thought. 'I'd like you and Nayl to stay with her. Look after her. Will you do that?'
'Of course/ she said. I realised this was the first time she'd ever set eyes on Alizebeth Bequin.
'Really? It's a big thing to ask of you.'
'I'm a doctor, and your friend, Gregor. It's not a big thing.'
I turned to go.
'She can probably hear you,' she said suddenly.
'Do you think so?'
Crezia shrugged and smiled. 'I don't know. There's every chance she can. And if she can't, does it matter?'
'Does what matter?'
'Tell her, Gregor. Now, before you go. Tell her, for goodness sake. Do the right thing by one of us at least.'
She left me alone and I sat down beside Alizebeth's cot.
And then, though I don't know to this day if she ever heard or understood, I told her all the things I should have told her years before.
I said goodbye to Ravenor and promised to wait for him at Jeganda. I kissed Crezia goodbye and went to the Hinterlight's hangar to cross back to the Essene. Nayl came to see me off.
I shook his hand. 'Keep an eye on Gideon/1 said.
He frowned. 'You don't trust him?' he asked.
With my life. But I don't trust his friends/
As the Essene pulled away from Promody, gathering speed as it headed for the immaterium translation point Maxilla's navigator had calculated, I went to find Aemos.
He was in his suite of rooms, puzzling his way through a deep stack of books he'd borrowed from Maxilla's library.
'Something else to divert you/ I said, handing him a pile of data-slates and record tiles. Before we had parted company, Ravenor had copied for me everything he had been permitted to copy, including a pict-file of the inscription as his force chair's sensors had recorded it.
'Gideon has marked some key passages in his notes to get you up to speed, but the inscription, which is a chart, is what really interests me. Gideon's… associate… told me what it means, or the part of it that applies to Ghiil, anyway. I'd like to know a little more, in literal terms/
'You want me to decipher an alien text that was long dead before man appeared?'
Put like that it was a tall order. 'There are some other samples of the same script that Ravenor obtained from other sites. I don't know. Do what you can with it. Anything you can turn up will be useful/
* * *
The voyage to Jeganda was not the longest I have ever undertaken, but it felt like it. I was fretful and ill at ease, impatient to arrive. My mind would not stop thinking about Glaw's head start, or how close the farseer's nothingness loomed.
To fill the time, I meditated and exercised, burrowed my way through Maxilla's library in search of anything pertaining to the eldar and their legends. Kara worked to get Medea up to fitness and, after two weeks, the three of us were running through demanding combat training each day. Sometimes Eleena joined us for the lighter sessions to keep in shape. I was glad I had an untouchable with me, given our destination and Glaw's abilities.
Except for Alizebeth, who didn't really count under the circumstances, Eleena was the last living member of the Distaff. I wondered if 1 would ever recruit and build it again.
I wondered if I would even get the chance.
During the third week, Aemos called me to his suite to discuss his findings so far. I wondered why he hadn't simply told me over dinner. We all met for a meal each evening anyway.
He told me he was making progress. The ancient culture which had built Ghiil appeared indirectly in several old sources. It seems that early Imperial explorers had known myths of a dead, precursor race from some of their first contacts with xenos species, though Aemos was concerned that some of the references could be to other dead cultures, or to species that had migrated or transplanted themselves.
One theme emerged. The race of Ghiil were marked as 'others' or 'outsiders' because they had not originated in our galaxy. The name 'Ghiil' itself didn't appear anywhere.
'One minor culture, the Doy of Mitas, have a legend concerning the "xol-xonxoy", daemons who ruled once and would return. The word meant "warped ones"/
'A good enough description as any. The eldar seemed convinced that the culture was a colony of daemons from the warp. Not even a race in its own right, more a host, an army… a nation. An exiled daemon-king and his followers, perhaps/
'There are a few more bits and pieces, not much. I'm getting nowhere with the inscription, though it is extraordinary, and Gideon's footage of that seance most perturbatory. I'd like to borrow your book/
'You what?'
Your damned book. I use the adjective advisedly/
You said you never wanted to see it again/ I reminded him.
'I don't, Gregor. It chills me to know it is even on board. But what chills me more is what we're going out there to find. And you've asked me to do a job. And that's the only tool available to me that I haven't used/
I took the Malus Codicium from my pocket. For a moment1couldn't bring myself to pass it to him.
'Be careful/ I hissed.
'I know the procedures/ he said grumpily. 'You've had me study prohibited texts before/ 'Not like this one/
I kept an eye on Aemos after that, visiting him regularly and making sure he came to meals. He became tired and short-tempered. I wanted to take the book away from him, but he said he was nearly done.
We were a week from Jeganda when he finished his work.
'It's incomplete/ he warned, 'but the main elements are there/
He seemed even more fatigued than before and had developed a slight shake on his left side. His suite was a mess of papers and slates, notes and scrawlings, scattered books. In places, where he had apparently run out of paper, he had continued his notes on tabletops or even walls.
Uber Aemos had performed his greatest work of service for me, the hardest task I had ever set him. And it had cost him. It had damaged his health and, I was afraid, his sanity.
'The daemon-king/ he said, spreading out a large sheet of scribbled-on vellum across the litter on his desk, 'who is represented by this glyph here…' he pointed with a palsied finger,'.. .and by this triple formation of symbols here was called Y-Y-Y-'
'Aemos?'
'Yssarile!' He all but had to spit the word out of his mouth to make the sound. The gilded clock on the table beside his unmade bed chimed twice suddenly for no reason.
'It keeps doing that/ Aemos growled crossly. His finger stabbed another mark on the paper for me to look at and then traced down a curling line of script. His notes, I realised, had taken the form of the chart itself. 'Here, look. There was a war. The daemon-king Y-Y-'
'Just call him the daemon-king/
The daemon-king fought a war of staggering enmity with a rival. The rival's name is not given, but from the marking here, I would guess it was one of what we tentatively understand to be the four primary powers of Chaos, although it seems there were only three a
t that time. I wonder why?'
I couldn't answer that. I wondered if the farseer could.
The rival is described as a foul sorcerer/ Aemos continued. 'I don't pretend or want to know the hierarchies of the warp, but in simple terms, Y-Y-damnit! Yssarile! was a lieutenant, a warlord, a prince… whatever you want to call it, who tried to usurp the place of this primary power/
Aemos unrolled another crumpled sheet and wiped pencil shavings off it. 'The war lasted… a billion years. As we would understand it. The daemon-king was destroyed by his rival. Killed outright. His host fled in terror at this crashing defeat, and sought sanctuary in the material universe. Our universe. There they established a capital and six kindred colonies. The capital, Ghiil, was built upon the daemon-king's mausoleum, which was itself constructed around his barque/
'His barque?'
'I suppose they mean his ship. The word is closer to "chariot" or "galley" in literal terms. And I think this may be the key point. The barque was his war machine, the craft that he rode into battle. It is described – here, and also here – as being of such power and might that the warped ones who wrote this were themselves staggered by it/
He looked at me. 'The barque of the daemon-king. A weapon of inconceivable power that lies entombed in the mausoleum of Ghtil. That prize, so I am told, is what Glaw is after/
'Told?'
He started, shaking his head. 'I'm tired. I meant that's what I've learned. From this. My work/
You said "told"/
'I did not/
'Distinctly/
'Yes, well I did. Because I used the wrong word. Learned. That's what I have learned/
I put my hand on his shoulder, reassuringly, but he flinched. 'Aemos, you've done an extraordinary job with this. I've asked a lot of you/
'Yes, you have/
Too much/
'I serve you, sir. It is never too much/
'I'll have Maxilla prepare another room for you. You can't sleep in here/
'I'm used to the clutter/ he said.
'It's not the clutter I'm worried about/
He shuffled away, muttering.
'I need to take the book back now/1 said.
'It's here somewhere/ he said, off-hand. 'I'll bring it to you later/
'I'll take it now/
He glared at me.
'Now, please/ I repeated.
He pulled the Malus Codicium from under a pile of notes that fluttered onto the carpet, and held it out. I took hold, but he would not let go.
'Aemos…'
I managed to yank the book away. The clock mischimed again.
'I think you should consider your options, Gregor/ he said.
What do you mean?'
The powers we face are great. Too great, perhaps. We are woefully under-strength. I think we should be stronger/
'How do you propose we do that?'
'Summon the daemonhost/
What?'
He took off his heavy augmetic eyeglasses and polished the lenses with the corner of his robe.
His hands were shaking badly now.
1 didn't approve before, on Durer. But I think I grasp things a little better now. I understand the choices you've made. The rules you've bent. All for the good, and I apologise for ever doubting you. With the daemon-host, we might stand a chance. Summon it here.'
'How?'
He became agitated with me. 'Like you did on Miquol!'
That was sheer desperation,' I reproved.
'We're desperate now!'
'And we have no host to summon it into…'
'You didn't then!'
'And it nearly killed us with its raw power before I could trap it.'
Then use one of Maxilla's astropaths as a host!'
I stared at him level ly. 'I won't kill a man just to provide a host.'
'You did on Miquol,' he hissed softly.
What did you just say?'
'You did on Miquol. Verveuk wasn't dead. You sacrificed him for the good of us all. Why would you flinch from doing it again?'
'Why would I do again something I wish had never happened?'
'Are we not playing for the highest stakes? One life, sir. What is that compared to the millions that may die if Glaw succeeds? Summon the daemonhost. Summon Cherubael to help us.'
I walked slowly to the door. 'Get some rest/ I said with forced lightness. 'You'll feel better for it. You'll have changed your mind.'
'Whatever/ he said, turning away dismissively.
He was entirely unprepared for the will I unleashed at him.
'What did it say to you?' I commanded.
Aemos cried out and his legs gave way. He crashed to the deck and half overturned a table in his efforts to stay upright.
His papers avalanched onto the floor.
'It told you, didn't it? It told you! You damn fool, Uber, what did you do?'
'I couldn't crack the code!' he wailed. 'The language was beyond me! But there was so much more in that book! That beautiful book! I realised I could do more!'
'You spoke to the daemonhost/
'Nooo!'
Then how else would you know its name, because I sure as hell never told you!'
He shrieked out and staggered back to his feet, his face locked in a grimace of pain and shame and fear.
'It was there in the pages!' he cried. 'Close like a whisper in my ear! So soft! It said it could help! It said it would tell me everything I needed if I could only arrange its release!'
'Oh, God-Emperor! Everything you've told me today you learned from that bastard thing Cherubael!'
'It was true!' he screamed. True! Yssarile! Yssarrrrilllle!'
The clock began to chime furiously. A glass pitcher and three tumblers on the bureau shattered. One lens of Aemos's eyeglasses cracked clean across.
He collapsed onto the floor.
I summoned servitors and took him to the sickbay. For safety, we locked him in an isolation bay. His safety, and ours.
The damn clock was still chiming when I went back to his room to burn the papers.
EIGHTEEN!
Meeting at Jeganda.
Misplaced loyalties.
To the last, to die deadi.
Aemos. All that last week of travel, he was my primary concern. I kept a watch on him in the infirmary, but he was generally unresponsive. He woke a few hours after the confrontation, and then said nothing. He refused to eat at first, and remained awake, day and night, staring at the locked door of the isolation chamber.
I dearly wished I hadn't had to lock it.
After a day he took food and drink, but remained silent. We all attempted to get some reaction from him. Both Medea and Maxilla tried for hours at a time.
By the time we reached Jeganda, a day ahead of schedule, our mood was low.
I had never realised before then how central to our team spirit Aemos had been. We all missed him. We all hated what had happened.
I hated myself for allowing it.
Aemos had been careless where I should have been able to trust him, but even so… it was my doing. I hated myself.
And I hated Cherubael, whose baleful influence had been cursing my life for too long. I wondered if I would ever – could ever – be free of it.
I made a resolution. If I lived, if I vanquished Glaw, I would destroy the Malus Codicium and then return to Gudrun and destroy Cherubael. I would take my runestaff and annihilate it, just as I had annihilated its kin Prophaniti on Farness Beta.
* * *
Jeganda system is dominated by a huge, ringed gas giant. In orbit above it is an semi-automated waystation established and maintained by a consortium of trade guilds and Navigator houses as a stop-over and service facility.
The Essene coasted in. There was no sign of any other vessels. Maxilla made contact with the station master and a drone tug led us into one of the wide docking gantries that extended from the rim of the dish-shaped station.
I crossed via the airgate with Maxilla and Medea and we were met by the mast
er, a hirsute, sluggish man called Okeen. He ran the place with a staff of four. It was a twenty-month contract, he explained, and then they stood down in favour of a fresh crew. They didn't get many visitors, he told us. They'd be happy to resupply the Essene's technical needs, for a competitive price, he told us.
He told us plenty. Isolation does terrible things to men's minds.
We couldn't shut him up. I finally left him with Maxilla. Maxilla could talk too.
Medea and I went to the station's central hub to see if the resident astropath had received any messages for us from Gideon. It was a dismal place of rotting and poorly maintained hallways and dark hangars. There was a background smell that I decided was spoiled meat and Medea maintained was stale lactose.
It turned out that, despite Okeen's non-stop chatter, there was one thing he hadn't told us.
Someone was waiting for us in the recreation lounge.
'Gregor.' Fischig rose to his feet from a threadbare couch. He was dressed in black with a waist-length shipboard cape of dark red, wire-shot fully that was secured at his throat with a small, silver Inquisitorial crest.
I faced him across the room. "What are you doing here, Godwyn?'
'Waiting for you, Gregor. Waiting for a chance to make things right.'
'And how do you propose doing that?'
He shrugged. It was an open, relaxed, almost apologetic gesture. 'I said things I shouldn't have. Judged you too quickly. I always was a hard-nosed idiot. You'd think my years of service with you might have taught me the error.'
'You'd think/ quipped Medea.
I held up a warning finger to silence her. 'You made your feelings perfectly clear on Hubris, Fischig. I'm not sure we can work together any more. There's a mutual lack of trust/
'Which I want to do away with/ he said. I'd never heard him so calm or sincere.
'Godwyn, you questioned my purity, branded some of my actions heretical and then offered to redeem me/
'I was drank for that last part/ he said, with a tiny flash of smile.
'Yes, you were. And what are you now?'
'Here. Willing. Reconciled/
'Well/ I said. 'Let's start with the "here" part. How the hell did you know I'd be here?'
He paused. I looked round slowly at Medea who was studying the deck.
'You told him where I'd be, didn't you?'
'Uhm…'