Shroud of Night

by Andy Clark

‘And you are going to, what, speak these words of power when we reach the beacon?’ asked Kassar. ‘Is that how you will corrupt this ineffable source of the Emperor’s light?’

  ‘The runes upon my flesh,’ said Syxx. ‘Lord Phelkorian… branded them there himself. I need speak no words of power, my lord, only a triggering chant for these runes. I wear them across my body, and when I stand in the light of the beacon, they will do what must be done.’

  ‘The gifts of the Dark Gods are never free,’ said Kassar. ‘What do you gain by doing this? And what will it cost?’

  Syxx hesitated.

  ‘You seek it yourself, lord,’ he said. ‘Escape.’

  ‘Your masters do not expect you back? They will just let you go free?’

  ‘No, lord,’ said Syxx. ‘Never that. But… I did not choose the circumstances of my existence. I didn’t choose my tribemother’s death, my enslavement to Lord Phelkorian, the worship of the Dark Prince. The things that I have done, and that have been done to me…’

  ‘And yet you remain master of your own mind,’ said Kassar thoughtfully. ‘Rare, especially in mortals. The worship of the Dark Gods is destructive and all-consuming, the temptations they offer fit to overwhelm even the strongest-willed. We ourselves have fought those temptations for years. Many have failed the test. Am I to believe that you have endured where my brothers did not?’

  ‘Hate, lord,’ said Syxx. ‘From the first, I hated our masters. I hated their god. I saw their gifts for the abominations they are, and I wanted none for myself. I have endured, but never embraced such worship. But you are right. Nineteen years, I have fought this corruption, but I know that I am losing. The temptation grows greater with every day. Lord Phelkorian sees this, and delights in it. But he has told me that if I do this thing, it will all end. The ritual, the words… they will kill me, lord. And then I will be free.’

  Kassar nodded to himself, running his hand over the pommel of his blade. The Hexling murmured.

  ‘I know a little of that fight,’ he said eventually. ‘And I commend you for your strength, even as I spit upon your cowardice in seeking your own destruction.’

  ‘Lord–’ began Syxx, but Kassar cut him off.

  ‘I have fought for centuries to resist the temptations of the Dark Gods,’ he said. ‘On Bloodforge, even before. If the date-stamps I have seen since departing that world are correct, then time passed very differently in real space than it did for us, but still. My war of self-belief has lasted for dozens of times your pitiful span. And I haven’t just fought for me. I have fought for them.’ Kassar gestured to the warriors of the Harrow. ‘My Unsung. My brothers. Keeping them out of the clutches of the gods, true to the old Legion, the old ways.’

  ‘We cannot all be our own gods, lord,’ said Syxx bitterly.

  ‘That’s not my point,’ said Kassar calmly. ‘What I am saying, mortal, is that I have done many terrible things in the service of my brothers. And if you are omitting information that will jeopardise them, or lying to me, then I will hurt you for it in ways that will make the torments of Phelkorian Twyst look like the inept fumbling of a broken servitor.’

  Syxx swallowed with a dry click.

  ‘I swear to you, lord, I have told you all that I know. There is no sense in punishing me, or threatening me. I do not willingly embrace Slaanesh, but that does not mean that I don’t benefit from some of his gifts. You would struggle to inflict sensations that would discomfit me.’

  ‘Long centuries have made me inventive,’ said Kassar. ‘And there is always Kyphas. But, you see? Plain speaking. Despite our reputation, it is something my Legion excels in, when required. We understand each other now.’

  Syxx nodded, clearly shaken by the tone the conversation had taken.

  ‘Thank you for your honesty,’ said Kassar after the silence had stretched a while. ‘You have nothing to add, clearly, so let us rejoin the others, and hope that you have chosen wisely.’

  Syxx nodded again and followed Kassar back to the Harrow, hanging a little further back than before.

  Haltheus returned with a full schematic of the maglev system, loaded onto a pilfered data-slate that he had coaxed to life.

  ‘Here,’ he said, stabbing a finger at a rune-marked intersection. ‘It’s twelve point two miles on foot, but this transit hub should allow me to hook up the Coffer and redirect one of the operational trains from tunnel seventeen to our location.’

  ‘Then we just hijack it, ride it into the base of Endurance Hive, and find a way to the beacon at its peak,’ said Kassar. ‘It will serve.’

  ‘We had best make haste, then,’ said D’sakh. ‘And the baggage will have to keep up.’

  ‘Krowl can carry it, if it falls behind,’ said Haltheus dismissively.

  ‘We move,’ said Kassar.

  As one, the Harrow moved out. Weapon sights swept the gloom of the nearest tunnel mouth. Vision filters were set to low light, thermic augurs activated to overlay the Alpha Legionnaires’ sight. Climbing down a maintenance ladder to ground level, the Unsung spread out into a loose formation and advanced into the gloom of the unused maglev tunnel.

  They kept the powered-down rail to their right and moved at speed, adopting a steady lope that they would be able to maintain for hours, even days if required. Syxx was forced to run to keep up, staying ahead of Krowl and Thelgh, who thumped along as rear guard. The cultist could barely see in the low light, and Kassar had ordered that they stay at his back to ensure he did not stumble and fall behind.

  The tunnel bored on in a dead straight line, the black waters of the ocean occasionally visible outside through armourglass inspection ports. Twice the rail reached a junction, a right then a left fork curving away into the gloom. Both times, Haltheus consulted his leprously glowing data-slate and motioned them to keep on, straight down the primary tunnel.

  Kassar saw maintenance hatches set into the tunnel walls, high up near the curved ceiling, accessed by ladders and gantries.

  ‘The maintenance tunnels run across the ocean floor,’ said Haltheus, noting his interest. ‘They connect these tunnels by foot so the servitors can move from one to the next without getting run over. They wouldn’t help us though, I checked. They go the wrong way.’

  The Harrow ran on, the minutes ticking past, Syxx’s ragged breathing loud in their ears. Suddenly Skaryth, ranging ahead, came to a halt with one fist raised. Immediately the Unsung dropped into fighting crouches, sighting for any potential threat. Krowl forced Syxx down, the cultist gulping great lungfuls of air.

  ‘What is it?’ voxed Kassar.

  ‘Hostile contact ahead,’ voxed Skaryth. ‘I scent Adeptus Astartes, Kassar. But… there’s something wrong with them.’

  ‘Elaborate,’ said Kassar. ‘Theorise.’

  ‘Blood chemical makeup tastes wrong,’ said Skaryth. ‘Something in their chem-sweat. It’s potent.’

  ‘Haltheus, Kyphas, what can you add?’ asked Kassar.

  ‘The tunnel carries straight on,’ said Haltheus, checking his data-slate. ‘We’re still four miles shy of the transit hub, in out-of-service tunnels. No junctions ahead. Nothing to remark on.’

  ‘Auspex is picking up multiple energy signatures and life signs,’ said Kyphas. ‘Just on the edge of range, still nearly a mile ahead. How can he smell them that far out?’

  ‘Skaryth’s senses are sharp, you know this,’ replied Kassar. ‘Focus. Cloaks over, move up, stealth approach. Keep your eyes open, I want us to see them before they see us. Kyphas, tell me the moment you know more.’

  Pips of acknowledgement came back and the Harrow advanced. Slowly now, cautiously, swathed in their camo cloaks, quieting the machine-spirits of their armour to two-thirds power output. They moved near-silently for such huge, armoured figures, and peered ahead through targeters set to maximum magnification.

  Skaryth spotted the enemy first, motioning for a halt and easing h
imself down into a crouch. Kassar moved up alongside him, staring at the distant figures moving behind a barricade stretched across the tunnel ahead. The maglev rail ran through the barricade’s centre, breaking its line.

  ‘Space Marines,’ he said. ‘Imperial Fists from the yellow, but I’ve never seen anything like that mark of armour.’

  ‘Do they look… bigger… to anyone else?’ asked Haltheus. ‘It could be me, but…’

  ‘Their guns are different too,’ said Makhor. ‘Some sort of elongated boltgun. I’ve never known the Imperium to innovate, but this is something new, surely.’

  ‘Primaris Space Marines,’ said Kassar. ‘That was what they called them. I don’t know precisely what they are, brothers, but we must have made the Imperium desperate indeed if they’re resorting to tinkering with the Emperor’s own work.’

  ‘They’re dug in behind prefab barricades,’ said Phaek’or. ‘But nothing big enough to upset our aim. We could harass them from here. Kill a couple, draw them out, take the rest in the open.’

  ‘There’s only five of them,’ said Kassar. ‘And I don’t see any special or heavy weaponry. But they’re Imperial Fists. I’d expect them to have fortified their position more, especially if they heard Haltheus’ bomb go off. We’re at quite a remove, but they might have caught the echoes.’

  ‘And what are they doing out here?’ asked D’sakh.

  ‘I think our enemy is clever,’ said Kassar. ‘I’d be willing to bet that the same Dysorian who ordered the teleporter destroyed has laced these tunnels with watch posts and patrols.’

  ‘I found a little information on these Primaris Marines,’ said Kyphas. ‘During the drop insertion.’

  ‘And you hoarded it,’ said A’khassor. ‘Again.’ His brothers looked angrily at Kyphas.

  ‘I am telling you now,’ said Kyphas. ‘They are something new, the work of the Adeptus Mechanicus if that is to be believed. Allegedly stronger, faster and tougher than normal Space Marines. Shock troops. These are Intercessors, and they carry something called a bolt rifle. Superior range and stopping power over the standard bolter. Impressive.’

  ‘But few in number, here,’ said D’sakh. ‘And a perversion of the Emperor’s work. He may be a rotting corpse, but he created perfection in the Legiones Astartes. I cannot imagine for a moment that some arrogant magos biologis will have done anything but flaw that work beyond redemption.’

  ‘Agreed,’ said Phalk’ir. ‘If we try to draw them out, we give them the chance to vox a warning of our approach. We should hit them now, fast and hard. We’ll overcome them in moments.’

  ‘That seems viable,’ said Kyphas.

  ‘And if these assumptions prove mistaken?’ asked Kassar. ‘If they are stronger, more resilient? We cannot afford more losses.’

  ‘Nor can we afford the delay,’ said Phalk’ir. ‘You said so yourself. You are the greatest of us, Kassar. With you leading the charge, they will not long resist us.’

  Kassar ignored the spiteful attempt at manipulation. Phalk’ir would take any chance to place him in harm’s way, but he was right about the time pressures. Even now, Lord Khordas’ Berzerkers could be smashing their way into the spire and taking the beacon for themselves.

  Every second mattered.

  ‘They may be few, but we cannot risk them getting a vox message away. We must retain the element of secrecy if we can. Haltheus, what can you do about blocking their vox-channels?’

  ‘Nothing,’ said Haltheus. ‘I lost my last handful of chaff bombs in the crash. The cacodaemonicum, too.’

  ‘Then we’ll have to silence them fast,’ said Kassar. ‘D’sakh, take Skaryth and Kyphas. Slip over the rail and move up the right flank. Hold to the shadows until you’re over the barricade, then encircle. The rest of us will advance as close as we can, then rush them,’ he said, easing Hexling from its sheath. ‘Skarle and Krowl at the fore with me. Thelgh, Phaek’or, covering fire. The cultist stays with you. The rest of you move up on my heels. When I give the signal, we strike.’

  Chapter Seven

  The advance began slowly, the Unsung staying low and gliding along the tunnel like shadows. Kassar felt their movement around him, their presence at his back. Thelgh and Phaek’or would be setting themselves up, taking prime firing positions, the cultist shielded behind them.

  Gradually, Kassar, Krowl and Skarle pulled ahead of their brothers, bunching up into a spear tip and moving fast to gain ground. Their task would be to focus attention, to distract the enemy with their sudden assault. The second wave would then unleash a point-blank firestorm even as D’sakh’s group struck from the flank, ending the fight before it had truly begun. Anything that endured would face Kassar’s charge and the winnowing fire of the back rankers. It was a tactic that had served them well on Bloodforge.

  Gradually the gap closed, the barricade drawing closer. Kassar strained his auto-senses for any sign of buried munitions or ambushing enemies. He could detect nothing.

  The Primaris Marines seemed unaware of their approach, a couple patrolling back and forth, the others standing guard, unaware that death slid closer with every heartbeat. Any second their auspex must pick up movement, they must catch a sound or a glint of metal approaching.

  A string of vox pips indicated that his shooters had selected targets, and that D’sakh and his brothers had slipped around the edge of the barricade unseen.

  ‘Now,’ voxed Kassar, surging from his crouch and straight into a headlong charge. Krowl and Skarle followed, the latter letting go a shrieking laugh that echoed along the tunnel.

  Kassar opened fire. Even as his weapon spat shells, the Intercessors were already firing back. They moved with impressive speed, and showed no signs of panic or confusion. Bolt shells flew back and forth as Krowl added his fire to Kassar’s. More shots whipped in from the right as D’sakh and his warriors swept back their cloaks and ran to cut off the Primaris’ retreat.

  A shot burned over Kassar’s shoulder. Another glanced off his greave, staggering him. Krowl took a direct hit to the chest, the shell bursting with a sharp crack and blasting a crater in his armour.

  Kassar’s own rounds hit the nearest Primaris Marine, but ricocheted off his shoulder guard. A shot from Thelgh’s rifle followed, punching through the Intercessor’s face plate and knocking him off his feet. Kassar cursed as the felled warrior pushed himself back up and kept firing.

  Skarle hurled an incendiary bomb that burst against the barricade and wreathed it in flame.

  Kassar closed the gap, firing as he went.

  A roar filled the tunnel as Phaek’or’s heavy bolter stitched a line of shells up their left flank. He blew out a section of the barricade before slamming several shots into an Intercessor’s chestplate. The Primaris Marine went down on one knee, only to rise again with a vox-amplified roar.

  ‘Stubborn corpse worshippers,’ voxed Haltheus.

  D’sakh and his brothers were now behind the Primaris, dropping into firing crouches and pinning them in a crossfire. Rounds sparked from the Imperial Fists’ armour, but to Kassar’s surprise they weathered the storm and kept firing.

  He was ten yards from the barricade when a tight group of shells hit Skarle in the chest and blew him onto his back. Blood sprayed.

  ‘A’khassor,’ voxed Kassar, and kept running.

  Sweeping through the flames, Kassar vaulted the barricade with blade in hand. Three shells hit him point blank in the chest as he landed. The impacts drove the air from his lungs and threw him back against the barricade.

  An Intercessor came at him with a roar, swinging the butt of his bolt rifle.

  ‘Die, filthy traitor!’

  Kassar took the blow on his shoulder guard, hard enough to dent its plating. In return he brought Hexling’s point up, ramming it through the Space Marine’s guts.

  Blood welled around the blade, and his enemy grunted in pain, but even transfixe
d the Intercessor swung another clubbing blow that rang Kassar’s helm like a bell.

  Dazed, hemmed in, Kassar had little room for skill or subtlety. Instead he dropped Mortis and wrapped both hands around the hilt of Hexling before ripping the blade upwards with all his strength. Unnatural energies arced as the weapon tore through the Intercessor’s chest, bursting organs and sending blood sluicing across the ground.

  The Imperial Fist gurgled in agony, convulsing. He tried to bring the muzzle of his bolt rifle around but Kassar pushed off the barricade and drove his enemy back. Carved open from stomach to throat, the Intercessor stumbled and the weapon dropped from his hands.

  Kassar ripped Hexling free, the blade steaming with blood, runes glowing eldritch along its length, and let his opponent fall. He glanced about, taking in the scene.

  The fight was progressing far slower than he would have liked. D’sakh and his brothers had shot down one of the Intercessors, concentrating their fire on him until his armour was a crater-blasted ruin. Another looked to have been blown apart by Phaek’or’s heavy bolter.

  Somehow, though, the last two Intercessors were still fighting, back to back in a closing ring of blue-green armour.

  ‘Kill them,’ ordered Kassar. ‘Now!’

  With a bellow, Krowl charged in and tackled one of the Intercessors off his feet. Krowl wrestled with his pinned victim, and Kassar’s eyes widened as the Primaris Marine began to pry the golem-like Alpha Legionnaire off him. Krowl was as strong as several orks. Kassar had never seen him outmatched in such a fashion.

  Evidently the same realisation had pierced the fug around Krowl’s mind. He gave an angry grunt, firing a volley of bolt shells point blank into his enemy’s face. The Intercessor fell back and Krowl raised his power fist, delivering a clubbing blow. Blood sprayed, but Krowl struck again, and again. By the fourth swing, nothing remained of the Intercessor above the neck.

  The last enemy was struck by bolt shells from several different angles. He staggered, but didn’t fall. He fired back, spinning D’sakh off his feet.