Vermilion Level

by Dan Abnett

  Gaunt leapt up. A second, two seconds, and he would have the fallen man's lasgun in his hands, ready to blast down the stairs....

  But the other two from below were in line of sight. There was a flash and he realised their green laser taggers had swept over his face and dotted on his heart.

  There was a quick and frantic burst of las- fire and a billow of noxious burning fumes washed up the stairs over Gaunt.

  Blenner climbed the stairs into view, carefully over stepping the smouldering bodies, a smoking laspistol in his hand.

  'Got tired of waiting,' he sighed. 'Looks like you needed a hand anyway, eh, 'Bram?’

  The grey truck, with its single remaining pursuer, slammed into high gear as it went over the rise in the snowy road, leaving the ground for a stomach-shaking moment.

  'What's that?' said Rawne wildly a moment after they landed again and the thrashing wheels reengaged the slippery roadway.

  'It's called a roadblock, I believe,' said Corbec.

  Ahead, the cold zone street was closed by a row of oilcan fires, concrete poles and wire. Several armed shapes were waiting for them.

  'Get off the road! Get off the road!' bawled Corbec. He leaned over and wrenched at the crescent steering wheel.

  The truck slewed sideways in the slush and barrelled beetle-nose first through the sheet-wood doors of an old, abandoned warehouse.

  There, in the dripping darkness, it grumbled to a halt, Its firing note choking away to a dull cough.

  'Now what?' hissed Rawne.

  'Well, there's you, me and Feygor...' Corbec began. Already the trooper was beginning to pull himself groggily up in the back. 'Three of Gaunt's Ghosts, the best damn fighting regiment in the Guard. We excel at stealth work and look! We're here in a dark warehouse.'

  Corbec readied his laspistol. Rawne pulled his own and did the same. He grinned.

  'Let's do it,' he said.

  Years later, in the speakeasies and clubs of the Cracian cold zones, the story of the shootout at the old Vinchy Warehouse would do the rounds. Two thousand shots were fired, they say, one thousand, nine hundred and eighty of them by the twenty armed men, Vandross Geel's enforcers, who went in to smoke out the off-world gangsters.

  All twenty died, each shot by a single lasblast (which accounts neatly for the other twenty shots).

  No one ever saw the off-world gangsters again, or found the truck laden with stolen contraband that had sparked the whole affair

  Off.

  The staff-track whipped along down the cold zone street, heading back to the safety of the city core.

  In the back, Blenner poured another two snifters of his expensive brandy. This time, Gaunt took the one offered and knocked it back.

  'You don't have to tell me what's going on, 'Bram. Not if you don't want to.'

  Gaunt sighed. 'If I had to, would you listen?'

  Blenner chuckled. 'I'm loyal to the Emperor, Gaunt, and loyal to my old friends. What else do you need to know?'

  Gaunt smiled and held his glass out as Blenner refilled it.

  'Nothing, I suppose.'

  Blenner leaned forward, earnest for the first time in years. 'Look, 'Bram... I may seem like an old fogey to you, grown fat on the luxuries of having a damn near perfect Regiment... but I haven't forgotten what the fire feels like. I haven't forgotten the reason I'm here. You can trust me to hell and back and I'll be there for you.'

  'And the Emperor,' Gaunt reminded him with a grin.

  'And the bloody Emperor,' said Blenner and they clinked glasses.

  'I say,' said Blenner a moment later, 'Why is your boy slowing down?'

  Milo pulled up, wary. The two staff-tracks blocking the road ahead had their headlamps on full beam, but Milo could see they were painted in the colours of the Volpone Bluebloods.

  Large, shaven-headed figures armed with batons and entrenching tools were climbing out to meet them.

  Gaunt climbed out of the cabin as Milo brought them to a halt. Snow drifted down. He squinted at the men beyond the lights.

  'Gilbear,' he hissed.

  'Gaunt,' said Gilbear, stepping forward. He was stripped to his vest and oiled like a prizefighter. The wooden spoke in his hands slapped into a meaty palm.

  'A reckoning, I think,' he said.

  Gaunt sighed. 'Out here, in the cold zones, where our bodies won't be reported for months. An opportunity for you and your numerous brainless brethren to kick some manners into me and my two friends.'

  'Put like that... yes.'

  'A moment, please...' said Gaunt holding up a finger. He turned to Milo and whispered, 'Brin... just how fast can you drive this buggy?'

  'Fast enough,' whispered Milo, 'and I know exactly where to go...'

  Gaunt turned back to the Blueblood heavies in the lamplight and smiled. 'After due consultation with my staff, Gilbear, I can now safely say: burn in hell, you mindless dog!'

  He leapt back aboard. Milo had the track gunned and slewed around in a moment, even as the enraged Guardsmen rushed them.

  Another three seconds and Gaunt's ride was roaring off down the snowy street at a dangerous velocity, the big engines raging.

  Squabbling and cursing, Gilbear and his men leapt into their own machines and gave chase.

  Trooper Bragg kissed his lucky dice and let all three of them fly. A cheer went up across the wagering room and piles of chips were pushed his way.

  'Go on, Bragg!' chuckled Mad Larkin at his side, 'do it again, you fething old drunk!'

  Bragg chuckled and scooped up the dice.

  This was the life, he thought. Far away from the warzone and the death, here in a smoke filled dome in the cold zone back end of an ancient city, him and his friends, a few pretty girls and wager tables open all night.

  Varl was suddenly at his shoulder.

  'The game can wait, Bragg... we've got business.'

  Bragg and Larkin kissed their painted lady friends goodbye and followed Varl out through the rear exit onto the boarding ramp. Suth was there, Meryn, Caffran, Kalen, Obel, Brostin, Raglon... almost twenty of the Ghosts.

  'What's going on?' asked Bragg.

  Caffran jerked his thumb down to where Corbec, Rawne and Feygor were unloading booze and smokes from a battered six wheeler.

  'Colonel's got us some tasty stuff to share, bless his Tanith heart.'

  'Very nice,' said Bragg licking his lips, not entirely sure why Rawne and Feygor looked so annoyed. Corbec smiled up at them all.

  'Get everyone out here! Lets have a party, boys! For Tanith! For us!'

  There was cheering and clapping. Varl leapt down into the bay and opened a box with his Tanith knife. He threw bottles up to those around.

  'Hey!' said Raglon suddenly, pointing out into the snowy darkness beyond the club's bay. 'Incoming!'

  The staff track slid into the bay behind Corbec's truck and Gaunt leapt out.

  A cheer went up and somebody tossed him a bottle.

  Gaunt tore of the stopper, took a deep swing and then pointed out into the darkness.

  'Lads! I could do with a hand...' he began.

  Gilbear leaned forward in the cab of his speeding staff-track, and looked through the screen where the wiper was slapping snow away.

  'Now we have him! He's stopped at that place ahead!'

  Gilbear flexed his hand and struck it with his baton.

  Then he saw the crowds of jeering Ghosts around the drive-in bay. A hundred... two hundred.

  'Oh... no,' he managed.

  The bar was almost empty and it was almost dawn. Ibram Gaunt sipped the last of his drink and eyed Veynom Blenner, who was asleep face down on the bar beside him.

  Gaunt took out the crystal and tossed it up on his hand once, twice.

  Corbec was suddenly beside him.

  'A long night, eh, commissar?'

  Gaunt looked at him, catching the crystal in a tight fist.

  'Maybe the longest so far, Colm. I hear you had some fun.'

  'At Rawne's expense, you'll no doubt be plea
sed to hear. Do you want to tell me what's going on?'

  Gaunt smiled. 'I'd rather buy you a drink,' he said, motioning to the weary barkeep. 'And yes, I'd love to tell you. And I will, when the time comes. Are you loyal, Colm Corbec?'

  Corbec looked faintly hurt. 'To the Emperor, I'd give my life,' he said without hesitating.

  Gaunt nodded. 'And I too. The path ahead is really hard. As long as I can count on you.'

  Corbec said nothing but held out his glass. Gaunt touched it with his own. There was a tiny chime.

  'Gaunt's Ghosts,' said Corbec.

  Gaunt smiled softly.

  'Gaunt's Ghosts.'

  About the Author

  Dan Abnett is a multiple New York Times bestselling author and an award-winning comic book writer. He has written almost fifty novels, including the acclaimed Gaunt’s Ghosts series, and the Eisenhorn and Ravenor trilogies. His Horus Heresy novel Prospero Burns topped the SF charts in the UK and the US. In addition to writing for Black Library, Dan scripts audio dramas, movies, games, comics and bestselling novels for major publishers in Britain and America. He lives and works in Maidstone, Kent

  For Eve and Rich.

  A BLACK LIBRARY PUBLICATION

  Published in 2013 by Black Library, Games Workshop Ltd., Willow Road, Nottingham, NG7 2WS, UK

  Cover illustration by Neil Roberts

  Internal illustrations by Karl Richardson.

  Map by Dan Abnett and Adrian Wood.

  © Games Workshop Limited, 2013. All rights reserved.

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  ISBN 978-1-78251-152-6

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