Manflayer - Josh Reynolds

by Warhammer 40K

  Fabius looked around. ‘Here? In the open?’

  Quin rested his axe in the crook of his arm. ‘No one is listening, Fabius. Save maybe the mountains themselves.’ He glanced at Savona. ‘You wear the heraldry of the Third.’

  ‘I do,’ she said.

  Quin’s weather-beaten features split in a grin. ‘Who did you take it from?’

  ‘I can’t recall his name.’

  ‘Must not have been very important, then. Still, a worthy feat for a mortal. The Dark Prince has set his hand on your shoulder.’ Quin turned back to Fabius. ‘Is she your bodyguard, Fabius?’

  ‘For the moment.’

  ‘For your sake, I hope she is competent. Come. Follow me, if you wish to talk.’ He turned and trudged into the trees.

  Fabius glanced back at Bellephus. ‘You and the others stay with Butcher-Bird. Savona – attend me.’

  As they followed Quin into the trees, Savona looked at him. ‘If you continue to insult me, I might lose my temper.’

  ‘And how have I insulted you this time?’

  ‘They are my men, not yours,’ Savona said.

  Fabius didn’t look at her. ‘Because I gave them to you. All that you have is because of me, Savona. Do not forget that.’

  ‘Trust me – it is ever foremost in my mind.’

  Fabius blinked. ‘Was that a threat?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Fabius laughed. ‘Good. I was worried that you were losing your edge.’ He gave her a thin smile. ‘Rest assured, your debt to me will soon be paid – one way or another.’

  ‘You sound remarkably cheerful for a man facing destruction.’

  ‘I see no profit in despair.’ Fabius looked around. ‘The mountain air must agree with me. As daemon worlds go, I’ve seen less pleasant. It almost reminds me of home.’

  ‘This place looks nothing like Belial IV.’

  ‘I meant my home. My birthplace.’ Fabius inhaled deeply. ‘I was born in the mountains of Terra.’

  ‘Your family were goatherds, I expect.’

  Fabius snorted. ‘Aristocrats, actually. An ancient line. Storied and honourable.’

  ‘Seems rather unfair that it ends with you.’

  Fabius looked at her. ‘Yes. I have often thought so, myself.’ He shook his head. ‘Then, all things have their ending. Even stars die. Death is healthy. To live overlong is to see the foundations of one’s existence crumble. Better oblivion than that.’

  ‘Then why not let the drukhari kill you?’

  ‘Because I have my pride. My death will be of my choosing, not someone else’s.’

  The forest rose wild around them. The ground was uneven at best. Crags of rock jutted out at awkward points, and toppled trees were a common sight. Birds of some unidentifiable species fluttered among the branches, and packs of lean, jackal-like hunters slunk at the edges of Fabius’ perceptions, calling to one another in curious, lilting voices that sounded like children singing. Fabius cleared his throat.

  Quin glanced back at him. ‘What?’

  ‘Why here?’

  Quin turned back to the path. ‘Why not here?’

  ‘That answers that,’ Savona murmured. She looked up and stopped. ‘Is that… a cabin?’ Fabius followed her gaze.

  The structure before them did indeed resemble a cabin – a square structure, built into the slope of the cliff, back among the trees. It was made from rough-hewn timbers, and the roof was covered in sod and snow. A chimney rose from the highest point of the roof, and Fabius could smell woodsmoke on the wind.

  ‘Yes. I built it myself.’ Quin whistled sharply. Several shaggy, quadrupedal shapes burst from the undergrowth and arrowed towards them. The hounds were malformed things, bristling with calcified growths and scaly flesh. They whimpered like infants as they surrounded Quin, lapping at his hands and face with forked tongues.

  ‘It’s not very palatial,’ Savona said.

  ‘I wanted a home, not a palace.’

  ‘It reminds me of the hunting lodges my family owned when I was a boy,’ Fabius said. ‘We had hounds as well. Ugly brutes.’ He sank to one knee and clucked his tongue. One of the hounds broke away from the pack and trotted warily towards him. Its breath was rancid as it snuffled at his extended hand, and its drool ate away at the paint on his gauntlet. Quin snapped his fingers and the beast raced to him. Fabius stood. ‘Is that a garden?’

  ‘Of sorts. The soil here is… tricky.’ Quin gestured to the rawhide curtain that served as a door. ‘Come inside. It’ll begin snowing soon. It’s less pleasant than you might imagine.’

  Inside the cabin, it was warm. It had been built for a legionary’s height and mass, with reinforced floors and a high ceiling. Furred hides had been nailed to the walls, and crude shelves held books and scrolls of varying ages. Fabius studied the contents of the closest shelf.

  ‘I don’t recall you being much of a scholar, Narvo.’

  ‘One learns to appreciate certain things in solitude.’ Quin went to the fireplace and began to feed the low flame flickering there from a basket. ‘Sit, if you like.’

  ‘There are no chairs,’ Savona said.

  ‘I find the floor to be more than adequate.’ Quin didn’t look at them.

  Fabius spied the remains of a set of Tartaros-pattern Terminator armour assembled and displayed upon a makeshift arming frame made from bone and wood. It had seen better centuries, and he wondered if it still functioned in any capacity. Quin followed his gaze.

  ‘It still works,’ he said. ‘But I no longer wear it. I have no reason to.’

  ‘Would you like one?’

  Quin looked back at the fire. ‘Maybe you should tell me why you are here.’

  ‘Veteran-Tesserius Quin,’ Fabius said formally. ‘I have come a long way to find you. As your lieutenant commander, I ask that–’

  Quin threw back his head and laughed. ‘Lieutenant commander? You?’

  Fabius paused. ‘Yes. In the absence of others, I was the sole remaining officer of rank. Needs must, and all that.’

  ‘And who decided there was a need?’

  ‘We were beset on all sides. Someone had to take command.’

  ‘And you left your web out of the goodness of your hearts, is that it?’ Quin shook his head. ‘Spider, you have never been one for command.’

  ‘Don’t call me that.’

  Quin looked at him. ‘My apologies, brother. I forgot.’

  ‘No. You didn’t. You were trying to remind me of my place. The way all of my brothers seem obligated to do. Spider, spider, spider. As if whatever webs I wove were solely for my benefit.’ Fabius turned away. ‘Always the same. It was by my blood and sweat that the Third even exists, and yet I am a figure of eternal derision. A clown, dancing for your amusement.’

  ‘Don’t play the injured innocent with me, Fabius. We were never friends. And I never liked you.’ Quin pointed an accusing finger. ‘I know full well what you did to save us. Even as I know that the cost of that solution outweighed the gain.’

  Fabius hesitated. ‘That is debatable. Anything I did, I did out of necessity.’

  ‘The Illuminator revealed it to me, Fabius. He showed me how you killed our brothers and ground their bones for fertiliser. You regrew the Legion in tainted soil. Treachery was seeded in us early, by your hand. Before the Laer, before Horus… before any of it. We were all damned, unknowing, by your choice.’

  ‘And not a word of thanks. I took that burden willingly and gladly…’

  ‘You took it to save yourself.’ Quin lifted his axe. ‘Your first concern has always been your own skin, Fabius. You never had brothers or friends. Even Fulgrim was nothing to you but a collection of samples.’

  ‘Is that what he said?’

  It was Quin’s turn to pause. ‘No. No, he loves you. Even now.’

  ‘Then it is for that love
that I must see him.’ Fabius paused. ‘I need his help. I need your help. Otherwise all that I have worked for will have been in vain.’

  Quin was silent for a time. ‘Why come to me?’

  ‘You are the only one who knows where Fulgrim sleeps.’

  ‘Sleeps? Is that what they’re saying?’

  Fabius paused, considering the implication. ‘You mean he doesn’t?’

  Quin shook his head in amusement. ‘He is not a king in some old Europan fairy tale. He is not waiting for us to prove our worth. He was simply bored of us.’

  ‘You spoke with him.’

  ‘Eventually. He was… much changed.’

  ‘So I recall. In Canticle City. He–’

  ‘No,’ Quin interrupted. ‘Worse than that. The less time he spent among us, the less of him there was. Instead, there was something else. Something…’ He frowned. ‘I don’t know how to explain it.’

  ‘He is one with the Dark Prince,’ Savona said softly. ‘His thoughts are Slaanesh’s thoughts. His deeds, Slaanesh’s deeds. He is a sliver of a god, wearing a man’s face.’

  Quin nodded. ‘Yes. As good a description as any.’

  ‘What did he say?’ Fabius asked, despite himself.

  ‘Nothing of interest to you.’

  Fabius frowned at this. ‘Could you find this place again?’

  Quin nodded. ‘I could. Easily. Why should I?’

  ‘I told you – I need your aid.’

  ‘That doesn’t answer my question, Fabius.’

  ‘For the brotherhood we once shared. We were both legionaries.’

  Quin laughed again. ‘You were never any sort of soldier, Fabius.’

  ‘I never wished to be.’ Fabius studied his hands, sheathed in purple ceramite. ‘It was not the fate I would have chosen, had I any choice in the matter.’ He looked at Quin. ‘I suspect you never wanted to be anything else, Narvo.’

  Quin shrugged. ‘My family bred soldiers. It is who we are. Or were.’

  ‘What happened to them? Afterwards, I mean. After we fled.’

  ‘They died.’

  Fabius smiled. ‘Yes, I expect they did. I’m told there were quite a few purges in the ugly days after Horus fell. Those who supported him paid in blood. Victory is rarely neat or pretty. Then, we know that from experience.’

  ‘Yes. Do you remember Abdle Comendius?’ he asked.

  ‘Vaguely.’

  ‘He was one of your students. One of the first new Apothecaries you trained, after Fulgrim returned to us. Chemosian.’

  ‘What about him?’

  ‘I killed him. In the Precentor’s Palace, on Isstvan III.’

  Fabius nodded. ‘Ah. One of the unlucky few.’

  ‘Or lucky, depending.’ Quin stoked the fire. ‘I think they were the last of us who were truly certain of their place in the galaxy. After the palace – after all the Isstvans and treacheries, we lost our way.’

  ‘Oh, we lost it well before that, Narvo. We lost it even before we stumbled upon the Laer temple and Fulgrim decided to keep his damnable souvenir.’

  Narvo stared into the fire. ‘I killed over two dozen of our brothers, at Fulgrim’s command. I slew them with joy in my heart, for at last, I had his eye. My ambition knew no limits. And it killed me, in the end.’

  ‘Ambition was ever our disease. To be better – stronger – the elite of the elite.’

  Quin picked up his axe. ‘I reforged this axe myself, after you remade me. Sometimes I wonder if it is the same axe that Fulgrim gifted me. Sometimes I wonder if I am the same man.’

  ‘You are not.’ Fabius shook his head. ‘You are more thoughtful. More considered. The Narvo Quin who was at Byzas was a brutal tactician, with little patience and less wisdom. A blunt object. The one I pieced together after Gabriel Santar dissected him at Isstvan V was someone else entirely.’ He smiled. ‘Like the Phoenix, you were reborn. We are a Legion of the reborn, always reinventing ourselves.’

  ‘Pretty words, Fabius.’ Quin set his axe aside. ‘Pretty words hide ugly truths. We reinvent, because we have no purpose. So we seek meaning in change. In fire and rebirth. In endless purification. But there is no meaning to be had in change for its own sake.’ He rose to his feet. ‘I will not take you. Not for brotherhood. We left that in the dust long ago.’ He paused, as if remembering something. ‘Would either of you care to share my repast?’

  ‘Food?’ Savona asked, looking at Fabius.

  ‘Of sorts.’ Quin took several wooden goblets down and pulled a knife from his furs. He slit the flesh of his forearm and allowed his blood to fill each goblet in turn. ‘I find I need little in the way of sustenance.’

  Fabius was not so easily placated. ‘I must speak to him.’

  ‘Then find him yourself. That is what I did. And as you never grew tired of reminding me, you were the smartest of us all.’ He handed Savona a goblet. She took it and lapped politely at the blood. Fabius ignored the goblet Quin offered to him and stood.

  ‘This has been a waste of time. Come, Savona, it is time we left.’

  ‘I wouldn’t,’ Quin said. ‘When night falls, this planet wakes up. There are things out there that would swallow a fully armoured Space Marine and not think twice.’

  ‘Speaking from experience?’ Savona asked.

  Quin glanced at the battered armour in the corner. ‘Painful experience, yes.’ He stood. ‘I wish to be alone. You may enjoy the fire, or wander into the dark, as it pleases you. I expect you will leave in the morning.’

  Fabius watched Quin climb the rough-hewn steps and then turned back to the fire.

  ‘What now?’ Savona asked.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Fabius said. ‘I must think.’

  Quin stepped out onto the roof of the cabin and closed his eyes as the wind sliced through him. The cold was like a lover, and he relished its touch. Out in the dark, something howled. A chorus of wails erupted. The hunt was on.

  Far in the distance, he heard the staccato thunder of boltguns and wondered if he should have warned Fabius about the wildlife sooner. He turned north and watched as something as large as a mountain trudged eastwards. The traveller loosed a bellow that sounded like the grinding of tectonic plates, and Quin felt it in the pit of his stomach.

  ‘Paradise,’ he murmured. A simple world, for a simple man. A world of kill or be killed. Pleasure was where you found it, and he had found it here.

  He glanced down at the stone roof. He could hear the murmur of his guests as they spoke in low tones. The Spider would be weaving new webs. There was something admirable in Fabius’ persistence – about his dogged refusal to bow to inevitability. That was why the gods loved him. They grew bored quickly, and Fabius’ frenzied spiri­tual writhing provided them with almost constant entertainment. Or had. But no matter how often it was explained to him, Fabius refused to see, refused to admit the truth of the universe and his place in it. And even the gods could lose patience.

  Quin did not wonder if Fabius would attempt some treachery before he departed. It was a foregone conclusion, and he felt a pang of regret at what was almost certainly to come. It was the reason Slaanesh had guided Fabius here, after all. He flexed his hands, and thought about how it would feel to crush the Spider’s skull. To end his frenzied weaving once and for all. He’d often dreamed of killing Fabius, in those dim days after his reawakening. The pain of rebirth had been almost more than he could bear.

  Through it all, he’d never asked Fabius why. And Fabius had never volunteered. Maybe he didn’t know, himself. Maybe the why didn’t matter.

  ‘I do not want to kill you, brother,’ he murmured. ‘But I fear you will leave me little choice.’ He looked up at the sky, an infinity of writhing black, and wondered if the gods would reward him for disposing of Fabius Bile once and for all.

  ‘I would rather that you didn’t.’

  Th
e voice was like star-shine and ice. Quin did not tense or whirl. Instead, he relaxed. He knew well the smell of Neverborn, and especially the potent tang of one devoted to the Dark Prince. ‘May I have your name?’ he asked formally.

  Hooves crunched across stone. ‘Melusine.’

  He turned… and paused. Old memories surfaced from the sludge of centuries. ‘You?’

  ‘Do you remember me, pilgrim?’

  Quin nodded. ‘I do, my lady,’ he said, after a moment’s hesitation. ‘I am surprised to see you here. No Neverborn has visited me since I made my way to this place.’

  ‘You know who I am,’ Melusine said.

  Quin nodded. ‘I did not see it at the time. But I have heard your name since.’ He looked down. ‘Your creator is below, scheming away. Shall I call him for you?’

  ‘No. It is not yet time.’ She turned away from him, and looked out over the forest. ‘You are part of the game now, pilgrim. Does this please you?’

  ‘No. I came here to escape games.’

  ‘Silly pilgrim. There is no escape.’ She spread her arms, as if to clasp the stars to her chest. ‘There is only the game, and the game within the game.’

  ‘And is this my part in it, then? To act as guide and nothing more?’

  ‘You may do as you wish. That is the whole of the law.’ Melusine stepped back along the line of the roof, arms still spread. ‘Do as you wish, and please yourself. For to do so pleases Slaanesh.’

  ‘If that were so, your creator would not be here to disturb me.’

  ‘Is it disturbance – or enticement?’

  ‘That is not an answer,’ Quin said. He turned as the dark of the night was split by a distant explosion – a frag grenade, he thought. When he turned back, Melusine was gone. He laughed softly. ‘Of course.’

  Disturbance, or enticement?

  Her parting words echoed on the air, like a hint of birdsong. He considered them, and then the mountains stretching along the horizon. How long had he been here? He could not recall. He had come seeking solace, but had found numbness. Maybe they were the same thing, maybe not. Maybe Slaanesh was sending him a message after all.

  Perhaps his time in the wilderness was done. Or maybe it was only beginning. One could never tell, with the gods.