Soul Drinkers 06 - Phalanx

by Ben Counter

  as they come. It must be a comfort to be in the presence of

  Space Marines who jump when Terra demands it.’

  ‘I find no comfort while enemies yet live,’ replied Aescarion sharply.

  ‘But I have nothing but admiration for the Imperial Fists, it is true. I find

  a little of my faith in humanity restored.’

  ‘I have faith in humanity as well, Sister. It is not the people of the

  Imperium I have ever had a problem with. It is the structures by which

  the Imperium maintains itself, clinging to existence through blood and

  cruelty. I have seen them over and over. And you have too, Sister

  Aescarion. Worlds condemned to misery or death. Freedom and

  rebellion given the same names and crushed beneath the mass of the

  shiploads of captives sent to Terra to–’

  ‘Enough! Do not speak of such things.’

  ‘And pretend, instead, that they never existed?’ Sarpedon reared up

  and put his face close to the window in the cell door.

  ‘No! Accept them as necessary for the survival of the human race,

  and turn our minds instead to the glory of our survival! That is how the

  Sororitas are taught.’

  ‘You think this is survival?’ Sarpedon held his arms wide, indicating

  not just his cell but everything beyond. ‘The human race is in its death

  throes! It inflicts miseries upon its people to protect them from its

  enemies, and yet it is those miseries that bring such enemies into

  being! Why do so many desperate people turn from the Emperor’s light

  and make pacts with the Dark Powers? Why do they cry out to be

  delivered and so walk right into xenos hands? The Imperium inflicts

  these wounds upon itself. It is nothing more than the slow death of

  mankind.’

  ‘You will need to find a far better orator than yourself, Sarpedon, to

  sway the mind of a Sister of Battle,’ retorted Aescarion sourly. ‘I did

  not come here to let you practice your closing arguments on me. I am

  here about my late master, Inquisitor Thaddeus. You know of him?’

  Sarpedon sat back down on his haunches. ‘Yes. I knew him.’

  ‘Personally?’

  ‘A little.’

  ‘Thaddeus had the chance to take you down on Stratix Luminae.

  Perhaps kill you. But he did not take that chance. I was with him at

  the time and I did not understand his decision. I still do not. I want to

  know why Inquisitor Thaddeus, a servant of the Emperor and sworn

  enemy of all that hates mankind, chose to let you go.’

  Sarpedon’s memories of Inquisitor Thaddeus were of a man who, at

  first sight, was completely out of his depth. He had looked like a

  functionary of the Administratum, some middle-ranking nobody. Some

  Inquisitors proclaimed their office with the most obvious and terrifying

  battlegear they could find, huge retinues of warriors and experts, even

  fleets and armies of their own. But Thaddeus walked softly in his

  duties.

  ‘After Stratix Luminae he tried to keep track of us, even after the

  Inquisition ordered us deleted from Imperial history,’ said Sarpedon.

  ‘When he found us on Vanqualis he had been hunting down every

  rumour of us. He had found… there were legends of us in places I was

  sure the Chapter had never been. One was of the Black Chalice.

  Another was the Ashen Grail. I did not give much thought to them at

  the time but now I fear there is some web that has been spun out

  there, in which the Soul Drinkers have their part but of which they are

  ignorant. Thaddeus was trying to unravel it.’

  ‘But he did not succeed,’ said Aescarion.

  ‘No. I imagine he is dead. The Howling Griffons crossed our path

  there, perhaps Captain Borganor can tell you more after he stops

  complaining about me cutting off his leg.’

  ‘But Thaddeus knew none of this on Stratix Luminae. Why not kill

  you then when he could?’ insisted Aescarion.

  ‘Perhaps,’ replied Sarpedon, ‘he knew we were right?’

  Aescarion lost her cool for a second. She slammed the palm of her

  hand into the cell door. ‘You dare!’ she hissed. ‘He would never have

  thrown in his lot with your kind. Thaddeus was a good man. The best

  of men.’

  ‘But you want me to tell you that he was not corrupted. That hardly

  suggests you have great confidence in the man.’

  ‘You are just toying with me, Sarpedon. I will not provide you with

  any more amusement. You don’t know Thaddeus’s motives and I will

  content myself with that.’ Aescarion turned, about to rejoin her Imperial

  Fist minders and leave.

  ‘He tried to warn us,’ Sarpedon said. ‘The Ashen Grail and the Black

  Chalice, and everything else he found, it all pointed to something he

  was trying to warn us about. I don’t think even he knew what he had

  found, but his misgivings were deep enough for him to defy the deletion

  order and seek us out.’

  ‘Then he was leading you into a trap,’ said Aescarion.

  ‘And you have misgivings too. Otherwise you would not have sought

  me out here. How many lashes would a Sororitas receive for

  conversing with a known heretic? And yet you come to my cell looking

  for answers. You see it too, just like Thaddeus did. Something about

  this trial is wrong and you know it. Daenyathos’s return, here of all

  places, is no coincidence.’

  ‘There is no coincidence. You came to the Veiled Region to seek

  him out. You and he both are puppets of that thing Abraxes that

  Varnica spoke of.’

  ‘Well, sister, if you have made up your mind about everything

  already there hardly seems a need to question me at all.’

  Aescarion shook her head. ‘Part of me wishes to know what must

  have to happen to an Adeptus Astartes before he can turn from the

  Emperor’s light. But I fear that such knowledge itself has the power to

  corrupt. I should have let you keep your silence, traitor. I hope this trial

  ends before you can do any more damage.’

  ‘Then I doubt you and I have anything more to say to one another.’

  Aescarion didn’t bother to reply. She turned smartly on an armoured

  heel and walked out of sight down the brig corridor. One of the Imperial

  Fists slammed the window shut, and Sarpedon was alone again.

  When visitors sought an audience with Chapter Master Vladimir on the

  Phalanx, he often chose to receive them in the Sigismarch Forest.

  This artificial woodland occupied an area amidships on one of the

  uppermost decks, its greenery illuminated by an artificial sun that

  made a circuit once every twenty-four hours. A river ran though it, fresh

  water diverted from the crew’s drinking supply to create the illusion

  that the forest was just part of a far greater lush and peaceful land

  where, even on board a vast weapon of war, a place of contemplation

  might be found.

  ‘So,’ said Vladimir, taking his place sat on a tree stump by the river

  bank where he was accustomed to receive his petitioners. ‘Speak.’

  In the clearing before Vladimir stood Reinez. Behind him were the

  officers of the Adeptus Astartes who had come to the Phalanx for the

  trial. They included Varnica, whose e
vidence had prompted this reevaluation

  of the whole trial. None of the captains and Librarians had

  brought their retinues with them, for this was not the place for a

  competitive show of arms.

  ‘I put it to the Justice Lord,’ began Reinez, ‘that the accused

  Sarpedon must be considered a moral threat. Librarian Varnica’s

  evidence proves the accused’s complicity with powers of the warp.

  This trial must cease and the executions be administered

  immediately.’ Reinez spoke with a snarling bluntness that made it

  clear he had thought this from the very start.

  ‘I see,’ said Vladimir. ‘Indeed, Varnica’s statements have changed

  the complexion of this trial. And yet I must see to it that justice is not

  only done, but that no man can find any reason to suggest that the

  course of justice has not been followed. For evidence of warpcraft, I

  have but the evidence of one Adeptus Astartes. As high as the esteem

  in which I hold you, Librarian Varnica, you are but one.’

  ‘That I cannot deny, my lord,’ replied Varnica. ‘But I know what I

  saw. The stink of the warp hangs over this whole affair.’

  ‘And when was suspicion ever insufficient evidence in matters of a

  moral threat?’ added Reinez.

  ‘I know that you long to see Sarpedon dead, Reinez,’ replied

  Vladimir, pointedly omitting any rank when he addressed the Crimson

  Fist, for since Reinez had become a penitent he had abandoned all

  rank within his own Chapter. ‘But this trial is not held to give you your

  vengeance. If you are to remain in the position of prosecutor you must

  be patient.’

  ‘Patient? Must I have the patience to endure that heretic speaking in

  his own defence? And from whence shall I gather the patience, Justice

  Lord, to sit unmoved through all the lies of the Soul Drinkers? Is

  Daenyathos to speak, too? Luko, and Salk, and all the Soul Drinkers,

  are they to have their chance to utter corruption as well?’

  ‘If that is what it takes for me to be satisfied that justice is done,’

  said Vladimir, ‘then yes.’

  ‘The Soul Drinkers are not the only ones who will have their time to

  speak,’ said another voice, one who had not joined in the discussion

  as yet. It was that of Captain N’Kalo of the Iron Knights. The Iron

  Knights were, like the Soul Drinkers, a successor Chapter of the

  Imperial Fists, and the stain on Dorn’s honour had seemed enough to

  bring a delegation from the Iron Knights to the Phalanx. Suddenly, the

  other Adeptus Astartes present were not so sure that N’Kalo was here

  just as a matter of course.

  ‘You have seen the Soul Drinkers for a moral threat?’ asked Reinez.

  ‘No,’ replied N’Kalo levelly. ‘I will speak in their defence.’ N’Kalo’s

  expression was impossible to guess at since his face was covered. He

  wore, even in the presence of the Chapter Master, a helm with an eye

  slit reminiscent of plate armour from some feudal world. Everywhere on

  him were hung campaign medallions, laurels and purity seals, the

  steel of his armour only just showing through the brocade of his many

  honours.

  ‘Their defence?’ snarled Reinez.

  ‘N’Kalo, brother, what are you saying?’ demanded Siege-Captain

  Daviks.

  ‘I say just what I say,’ replied N’Kalo. ‘I wish to speak in defence of

  Sarpedon and the Soul Drinkers. Will you deny me that right?’

  ‘I shall!’ barked Reinez. ‘As the prosecutor in the Emperor’s name I

  deny you any right to interfere in the punishment of that heretic!’

  Reinez jabbed a finger in N’Kalo’s face, but the Iron Knight did not

  flinch.

  ‘Reinez!’ shouted Vladimir. ‘This is not your decision to make.’

  ‘By the Throne, I say it is! Upon my honour as an Adeptus Astartes,

  you will have to go through me before you utter one word that does not

  condemn the traitors!’

  ‘If I may,’ interjected Commander Gethsemar of the Angels

  Sanguine, ‘I believe that the precedent exists for him to do just that.’

  Gethsemar, like N’Kalo, had spoken little, and his voice was a

  smooth, honeyed sound quite at odds with the warrior heritage of his

  Chapter.

  ‘Is that what you desire, Reinez?’ said Vladimir. ‘An honour-duel

  with Captain N’Kalo?’

  ‘If that is what it takes,’ replied Reinez, still face to face with N’Kalo.

  ‘If the Emperor lends strength to my arm, N’Kalo stays silent and the

  Soul Drinkers are condemned no matter what he wishes.’

  ‘And if I best you,’ said N’Kalo, ‘I say my piece.’

  ‘It does not matter what you will do,’ said Reinez. ‘I have torn the

  throats from warp-beasts a million miles from any Battle-Brother. I

  stood on worlds as they died and fought through armies of the damned

  to survive. You are a child compared to me. You cannot win. Drop to

  one knee now, acknowledge me your superior, and there need be no

  duel. I will accept your surrender without your having to suffer at my

  hand.’

  ‘I would not deny you the pleasure of breaking my bones,’ said

  N’Kalo, voice still calm.

  ‘Where is this duel to be held?’ said Gethesemar.

  ‘Here,’ replied Reinez. ‘This is the place where Sigismund, the first

  Templar, came to contemplate his duty, is it not?’

  ‘It is,’ replied Vladimir.

  ‘Then perhaps Captain N’Kalo will have the chance to contemplate

  his own duties as he lies on this ground beneath my boot.’

  ‘Enough talk, Reinez!’ said Vladimir. ‘Gethsemar, since you

  proposed it, you shall oversee the duel. Brothers, gather your Adeptus

  Astartes so that all will witness the result. N’Kalo, Reinez, select your

  weapons and make yourselves ready. Then we shall have no more

  discussion of this matter. The honour-duel shall be final. This is the

  Emperor’s justice, and all aboard will hold to it as His word.’

  ‘Amen,’ said Reinez with a smile.

  Gethsemar revelled in his role as master of ceremonies. He changed

  his mask for one with a stern brown and downturned mouth, ruby eyes

  and a stylised scar on one cheek. His Sanguinary Guard stood watch

  alongside him, glaives drawn, framed by the wing-like stabilising fins

  on their jump packs. Their gilded armour gleamed almost painfully

  bright as the forest’s artificial sun came overhead and bathed the

  riverside glade in light. Lysander waited behind them, knowing that

  although he was here to enforce Vladimir’s will just as much as the

  Angels Sanguine, there was no need to impede Gethsemar’s sense of

  showmanship.

  Around the edge of the clearing were stood the Space Marines

  attending the trial. There had not been enough room for all the Howling

  Griffons so Borganor looked on flanked only by his honour guard. A

  single squad of Imperial Fists attended Vladimir. Kolgo was there too,

  with his Sisters of Battle in attendance. The Iron Knights who had

  accompanied N’Kalo stood a little apart, perhaps aware that if their

  commander lost this duel they would be leaving the Phalanx very

  quickly.

&n
bsp; Reinez had chosen his thunder hammer to fight with. It was a wellused

  weapon, its adamantium head well-scored in hundreds of battles.

  Reinez made a few warm-up swings, loosening his arms and

  shoulders, and the weapon thrummed through the air as if it was

  purring with pleasure at the impending combat.

  N’Kalo had chosen a double-handed sword from the armoury of the

  Phalanx, a weapon normally wielded by the Imperial Fist chosen to

  serve as the Emperor’s Champion while on campaign. As an Iron

  Knight who called Rogal Dorn his Primarch like the Imperial Fists,

  N’Kalo had the right to wield such a weapon. It was a compromise –

  his own power sword, now held by one of his Iron Knights, was onehanded,

  and might have been shattered or knocked from his hand

  trying to parry Reinez’s thunder hammer. The champion’s blade would

  not break, but it would be slower.

  ‘In the sight of Rogal Dorn,’ intoned Gethsemar, ‘beneath the aegis

  of Blessed Sanguinius and of the Emperor of Mankind, our battlebrothers

  here seek justice through the clash of holy arms. May the

  Emperor lend strength to the arm of the righteous! Begin!’

  For a long moment, neither Space Marine moved as they gauged

  each other’s stance, deciding which way to go. Reinez crouched low,

  hammer held behind him ready to strike. N’Kalo’s sword was up in a

  guard, the point hovering level with Reinez’s eyeline.

  Reinez moved first. N’Kalo barely reacted in time, bringing the blade

  down to block the blow that Reinez aimed at his legs. N’Kalo pivoted

  and caught Reinez with an elbow, but it clanged harmlessly into the

  Crimson Fist’s breastplate. Reinez hooked N’Kalo’s leg with his

  hammer and threw him head over heels backwards, to sprawl on the

  grass.

  Reinez’s hammed arced down. N’Kalo rolled aside as it slammed

  into the ground, throwing up a great shower of earth and leaving a

  crater in the dark soil. N’Kalo swung wildly, a vast steel crescent that

  Reinez sidestepped with ease before landing a kick so hard in

  N’Kalo’s side that the Iron Knight was thrown to the ground again.

  ‘I’ll hear your surrender any time,’ gasped Reinez. ‘There is no

  shame in it. Any time.’

  N’Kalo responded with a reverse strike from the ground, the sword’s

  point arrowing up behind him towards Reinez’s throat. Reinez batted it