More ligaments released their holds on the underside of Commorragh. Those already loose began to wind about one another, entwining for strength and support. As the Tower rocked back and forth on its perch, its base began to ripple. Hundreds of thousands of crude, half-formed polypus limbs erupted from the rugose meat. Claws sank into the bottom of Commorragh, keeping the Tower from plummeting into the darkness below.
Then, slowly but surely, the Tower of Flesh began to move.
It was not movement as a biped might understand it. Rather it was the heaving squirm of an immense maggot. The interior of the Tower shuddered far in excess of its motion, as thousands of chambers, transit conduits and galleries reoriented themselves along new poles. Gases vented from pneumatic joints as halls swung into position, and lights flickered within the techno-organic tissues that lined the interior of the central node.
‘It rises,’ Hexachires roared, elated. The greatest gift Fabius Bile had given the Thirteen Scars would be the implement of their vengeance. Could anything be more satisfying?
Again, he sought out Oleander. A small part of him hoped the mon-keigh was impressed. But instead of looking about in awe, as was appropriate, Oleander stood frozen, head tilted. The air about him shimmered with an oily sheen that Hexachires recognised all too well.
‘Veilwalker was right. It’s back.’
Diomone turned, following his gaze. ‘What?’
‘The daemon.’ Hexachires grasped the back of her neck. ‘Stay where you are, but look – there, can those oh-so-brilliant eyes of yours see it?’
Diomone gasped at the strength of his grip, but she knew better than to struggle. ‘No, I– wait. Yes.’ He heard the distinctive click of internal mechanisms sliding home. ‘There’s something there. A warp entity?’
Hexachires reached into his robes and retrieved a crystalline device. He had crafted it himself from wraithbone crystals grown in a solution of warp ichor, and shaped for a very specific function.
‘Keep her in sight a moment longer, dear Diomone. And do keep still. We will only have one chance at this.’
‘What is that thing?’ she hissed, tensing as he braced the device on her shoulder. ‘Some sort of weapon?’
‘Not quite. More like… a tuning fork. Daemons, you see, are in some sense rogue frequencies – undetectable to the perceptions of most mortals, save those who are properly attuned, or whose perceptions are heightened in some fashion. Now, these frequencies can be strengthened or weakened by certain applications – one might call them rituals.’ Hexachires adjusted his aim slightly. He wondered what the creature was saying to Oleander. Nothing useful, he expected. But its presence was beginning to annoy him.
‘Are you performing one now?’ Diomone whispered. ‘Is that why you’re taking so long to do whatever this is?’
‘No. Rituals are for savages and the superstitious. I have developed a new approach – one built on scientific rigour.’ He paused, his thumb on the activation sigil. ‘Tell me, Diomone, have you ever tasted the pain of a warp entity? It is a heady thing. An epicurean of my acquaintance once allowed me to sample the tears of a–’
‘She’s turning towards us,’ Diomone snapped.
‘Ah. Another time, then.’ He flicked the sigil, and a pulse that was neither sound nor light but somehow both shivered forth in a sharp line. Those wracks unlucky enough to be in its path fell to their knees, clutching their heads and screaming. Diomone did as well, her wails interspersed with curses.
Oleander got the worst of it, of course. Which, Hexachires thought, served him right. The mon-keigh fell back, writhing in pain – and his daemon-lover fell with him. It screamed and thrashed as Hexachires’ frequency scrambled its own. Its form flickered like static as it tried to stand. He shoved Diomone aside and advanced on the entity, loosing another burst from his frequency scrambler. Its screams became animalistic screeches.
Its form was disgustingly feminine, save for those bestial properties which announced its origins. He reached down and caught a handful of its hair, jerking its head back. For an instant, he froze. Its face…
Still holding it, he turned to Diomone. ‘Get a containment unit. Now.’ He turned back to the creature, studying those strikingly familiar features which were the faint echo of another face, from another time. He leaned close.
‘I don’t know what you are, but I expect I will find out soon enough.’
Chapter Twenty-One
Evacuation
Fabius sighed ruefully as he took in the half a dozen hololithic figures surrounding him. Fewer of them had answered his call than he’d hoped, but more than he’d feared.
‘I would not trouble you, brothers, were it not of the utmost importance…’ he began. Raucous laughter cut him off. He waited for it to die down. ‘If you’re finished, time is of the essence.’
‘Your time, you mean,’ one of the figures said.
‘Mine, yes. And by extension, yours as well, Volupus.’ Fabius pointed at the creature – a Noise Marine. One of the later generations, not one of his original Kakophoni. ‘Without me, your warbands will dwindle to nothing in a few decades.’
‘There are other Apothecaries,’ another figure said, in a voice that was little more than a harsh, mechanical growl. ‘You should know this, given that you claim to have trained many of them.’
Fabius turned. ‘And how many of them are willing to deal with you, Vilius? Given your reputation, I imagine that it’s not many.’ He gestured dismissively. ‘Besides which, those I taught are in as much danger as I am, if not more.’
‘Meaning?’ a voice trilled. Fabius looked up at the gaudy figure, clad in silks and feathers over its heavily modified, form-fitting battleplate. He recognised the so-called Second Sensualist of the warband known as the Ripping Nails.
‘Meaning, Glorian, that any who provide sanctuary for my students may soon find themselves under attack as well. Unless we can stop them.’
‘I was under the impression that you’d already tried, Clonelord,’ Glorian countered. ‘And they nearly killed you for it.’
‘Yes.’ Fabius frowned. ‘I underestimated them. It will not happen a second time.’
‘One wonders why we ever elected you lieutenant commander,’ a harmonious voice hummed. The sound of it made Fabius’ teeth itch, even over the vox.
‘I don’t recall asking your opinion on the matter, Caradistros.’
‘Lord Caradistros,’ the Noise Marine corrected. Another latecomer, and like Volupus he was nothing but a pale shadow of the originals, despite the airs he gave himself. Fabius waved the interjection aside.
‘How quickly promotion comes to the undeserving. I remember when you were nothing more than a humble line officer.’ He looked around. ‘I remember all of you. And I remember how I helped each of you ascend to your current position, though you might wish otherwise.’ He struck the floor with Torment, causing the projections to flicker. ‘I am calling in my marker, brothers. Fail to honour the bargain we made and I will see to it that you pay, in this life – or the next.’
‘Or we could let them kill you, and watch as daemons tear your soul to shreds,’ Glorian said. ‘You have lorded your fleshcrafter’s skills over us for centuries. Forcing us to come crawling to you, to beg the wise man of the mountain for his largesse. You are no better than that dog Eidolon, or that preening jackanapes Lucius… You think that because you were with the Phoenician at the beginning we should bow before you.’
‘Not at all,’ Fabius said. ‘I think you should bow before me because I am your superior. More, without me, you would not exist.’ Anger speared through him, sudden and hot. ‘The Legion itself would be dust on the winds of history without me. I saved it. I saved you all, whether you admit it or not. You owe me.’
‘We owe you nothing, Clonelord,’ Vilius snarled. ‘You have been well compensated for your services. More than well. And now you wish us to s
econd ourselves to you once more? For what?’
‘The chance to war on the enemies of the Dark Prince,’ Quin rumbled. The Pilgrim stepped forward from where he had stood, silently observing. ‘Do you know me, whelps?’
‘Narvo Quin,’ Volupus said, almost singing the name. ‘One of the Heroes of Byzas. Your voice is among those which echo in the dark moments, guiding our song.’
‘Then you know that I cannot speak lies. There is no falsehood in the song, only truth.’ Quin pointed his axe at the assembled warband leaders. ‘Slaanesh wills this. The Phoenician himself sent you to do this thing. That is why you hang in orbit even now, dawdling like recalcitrant children. You will come and fight until the song tells you otherwise. Or you will be damned for cowards.’
His words hanging on the air, the projections flickered and vanished one by one. Quin turned to Fabius.
‘I think I convinced one or two of them,’ he said, with some amusement. Fabius shook his head.
‘Hopefully more than that.’ Fabius ran a hand through his hair, and several strands came away, tangled in his fingers. He studied them for a moment, and then allowed a waiting vatborn to clear them away. ‘Regardless, thank you for speaking up. It is appreciated.’ He paused. ‘That said, why are you still here, Narvo?’
‘Curiosity. I wanted to see how you would take it. Whether you would resist or not.’
‘And?’
‘I find myself almost disappointed.’
Fabius laughed again. ‘There’s the Narvo I remember. You were always the perfect soldier. But I am somewhat less enamoured of conflict.’
‘And yet you are now part of the greatest conflict of all.’
‘Yes. The irony is not lost on me.’ Fabius looked around, taking in the high pillars and thick creepers of the atrium. Arrian had expended much effort to make it all grow. It was almost a shame that it would almost certainly be destroyed in the days to come. ‘All too soon, the dying will begin.’
‘And how do you know that?’
‘Because the Tower of Flesh has begun to move.’ Fabius selected another blossom and chewed it. This particular flower was a potent stimulant, especially when brewed. But he’d acquired a taste for chewing them.
‘And what is that?’
‘Another bit of hubris come back to bite my hindquarters. Something I created for my drukhari hosts. I installed several surreptitious sensor relays in its foundations – neural contact-points, connected to my own cerebrum. I felt a twinge a few hours ago. A sure sign that my enemies are on their way. Even as Melusine warned.’
‘How did they find this place?’
‘I don’t know. It doesn’t matter at this point. They are coming and there are things that must be done.’
‘Like sending your creatures to safety.’
‘Yes.’
‘And what will you do if the enemy arrives before they are gone?’
‘I am almost certain that they will. The Emperor of Mankind was wise, if ruthless, and I understand Him better now. We have no purpose but this. We are tools. To be used and cast aside when our use is completed.’
Quin smiled. ‘I never thought to see the day that you would refer to yourself as a tool.’ He studied the strange flowering vines crawling up the void-hardened armourglass walls. One of the fleshy blossoms snapped an insect out of the air and devoured it noisily.
‘Beautiful,’ Quin murmured. ‘Wherever did you find them?’
‘Arrian cultivated them. They’re a hybrid species of some sort. Botany was never one of my abiding interests.’
‘The World Eater?’
‘Yes.’
Quin nodded. ‘Hidden depths.’
‘You would know.’
Quin looked at him. ‘Yes. I suppose I would.’
Fabius was silent for a moment. Then, ‘Will you stay?’
Quin looked away. ‘I do not see how my presence will make a difference to the outcome. I am one man.’
‘You are my brother.’
Quin shook his head. ‘You never had any brothers, Spider. Or if you did, you condemned them. Along with the rest of us.’
‘I condemned no one.’ The words sounded hollow, even to Fabius. ‘I did only what was necessary for the survival of the Legion.’
‘Sometimes it is best to let a patient die, rather than force them to live.’
Fabius looked away. ‘Maybe so. Maybe that was the first step on our road to damnation. Perhaps I shouldn’t have raged against the dying of the light.’
‘The past is in its grave, Fabius. May the gods grant it lie still.’
‘But it doesn’t, does it? It will never rest, so long as we live. We persist, and drag the past in our wake, like a spectre with its chains.’ Fabius teased a blossom with Torment, causing the ridged petals to thrash and curl. ‘Whatever form the future takes, we will always be there. The sins of the past, manifested.’
‘Are you an advocate for self-immolation now?’ Quin asked. ‘There are some among our brothers who’d agree with you, if so. They say we should join hands and walk into the outer dark together, so as to remove ourselves from the universal cycle entirely.’
‘Nihilism has never been among my vices,’ Fabius said.
Quin traced his fingers through the flowers. ‘We are ghosts. Unable to move on, and forced by our creators to haunt the battlefields of the coming millennium. The question then is – what sort of ghost will you be, Fabius?’
Fabius didn’t reply. Lost in his thoughts, he wasn’t aware of when Quin departed.
The Pilgrim did not say goodbye.
Savona watched the images flashing across the tactical screens of the strategium chamber with a mixture of annoyance and awe. Men, women and children came in their hundreds, pouring onto the surface of Belial IV from webway nodes and orbital landers.
‘I never imagined there were so many of them,’ she said. ‘I always thought his talk of repopulating the galaxy was just idle bombast.’
‘Fabius is many things, but never idle,’ Bellephus said, watching beside her. ‘But even so – this is impressive.’
The newcomers did not resemble the panicked refugees she had seen on other worlds, stinking of fear and hope in equal measure. Rather, they reminded her of migrating animals – focused, determined and certain. On every too-perfect face was stamped a look of resolution. Even the children moved with purpose.
‘One mind, one will,’ she murmured. A clockwork species, following the rhythm of their creator. ‘I think the galaxy will be safer with them sealed away.’
‘Undoubtedly,’ Bellephus said. ‘But safer for whom?’
‘Us, mainly.’ She turned. The strategium chamber was crowded. Overseeing a mass evacuation was no small undertaking and required more hands than she possessed. Scavenged atmospheric haulers carrying decades’ worth of accumulated resources were setting out in staggered caravans.
As Fabius’ creations emerged from nodes and landers, they were inspected, recorded and sent on to predetermined evacuation points. When the last of them had arrived, the demolition of the nodes would commence. Fabius had ordered that Belial IV be sealed off from the webway entirely, save for a single node – the route to Omega Redoubt.
She cycled through the data-feeds until she found that one. According to Fabius, the Omega Node had been devised from a stolen drukhari webway portal generator, as well as other scraps culled from raids on nearby crone worlds. It had been erected a safe distance outside the city. It was not large, as such things went. Barely big enough for the atmospheric haulers that were entering its shimmering archway. But it would serve its purpose well enough. Hulking shapes stood sentry around it – Ramos and the Kakophoni. The only creatures Fabius trusted enough to see to the safety of his precious Homo novus.
‘Strange days,’ Bellephus said softly.
‘What do you mean?’
‘It has been… a long time since I last oversaw an evacuation. I thought these days were far behind me.’ He began to scratch something into his armour. ‘Far behind us.’
‘Maybe you’re right. Maybe we should depart. Leave this place.’
Bellephus stopped. ‘You don’t mean that.’
Savona grimaced. ‘No. I suppose not.’ She looked at him. ‘He sent all the others off, you know. But not us.’
‘No. But I doubt he expects us to die here.’
‘Or he doesn’t care.’
Bellephus chuckled. ‘Were you under the impression that he did?’
Savona looked away. ‘I don’t know what I thought.’
Bellephus was silent for a moment. ‘Did you see him?’
‘Who?’
‘The Phoenician.’
She paused. There was a harsh longing in his voice that she had never heard there before. It was the first time he had asked. ‘No,’ she said. ‘He was gone by the time we found Fabius. Whatever passed between them – it was for them alone.’
‘Ah.’ Bellephus went back to his scratching.
She spied something on one of the screens and paused. ‘Is Varex overseeing the inspections at the north-western node?’
‘Yes, why?’ Bellephus leaned over her shoulder. ‘Oh.’
On the screen, a small knot of Emperor’s Children was forcing its way through the crowd issuing from the gate. Savona frowned and tapped her lips thoughtfully.
‘Desertion?’
‘Treachery is more likely.’
Savona laughed. ‘I suppose Varex is stupid enough to think he can bargain with the drukhari.’ She enhanced the image. ‘That crowd is getting angry.’
‘Should I intervene?’
She paused, considering. As she made to answer, she spotted Fabius watching her from the rear of the chamber. ‘Yes,’ she said loudly. ‘Bring them back. In pieces, if you have to. If Varex thinks he’s getting out of this, he’s mistaken.’
Bellephus departed as Fabius joined her. Music followed him, emanating from somewhere about him, a lilting melody that Savona did not recognise.
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