Architect of Fate

by Edited by Christian Dunn

  ‘Sergeant! Look at that!’

  The call came from a brother of the Blood Swords squad who had been standing behind the inquisitor. He pointed with his bolter to the wall opposite. Where once there had been clinically white, featureless walls of no character, there was now a creeping, spreading line of corrosion. It began where the wall met the floor and was moving slowly but perceptibly upwards in spidery lines. Where it touched the substance of the wall, the pure white surface was visibly ageing, tarnishing before their eyes as though centuries of erosion were occurring in but a few seconds. The sterile coating of the corridor’s walls flaked into little piles on the ground, and as the assembly watched the process, the lines seemed less like cracking, breaking metal and more like veins spreading across the skin of the ship.

  A twisted smile flickered over Remigius’s face and he sheathed the sword once again. ‘Behold,’ he said softly. ‘The taint revealed. The presence of this weapon brings out the daemon’s disquietude. Open the bulkhead, Sergeant Evander. We must hurry.’

  All the earlier rage at the inquisitor seemed to be forgotten as the sergeant, with the aid of two more Space Marines, began to prime the melta charges.

  ‘What can we expect to deal with once we pass through this door, inquisitor? What do you know of the nature of this daemon?’ Iakodos kept his voice so low and calm that he seemed to be holding nothing but a normal conversation.

  Cold, hard eyes looked up at the Chaplain and Remigius shook his head. ‘If I knew that, Star Dragon, I could prepare you. Simply… be prepared. It is the best I can offer you. Be assured though that once this deed is done, the name of your Chapter and that of the Blood Swords will be elevated to a position of reverence amongst the Ordo Malleus.’

  Aye, Iakodos thought as the party moved back out of the detonation zone. Whether we want that dubious honour or not.

  III

  ‘All is well here. No further incursions.’

  Korydon reported back to Evander and got nothing but a burst of static in response. ‘Arion,’ he said without turning. ‘Keep trying to raise Ninth.’

  ‘Aye, brother.’ Arion dropped back from his position at Korydon’s side and quietly began repeating his sergeant’s words on various vox frequencies.

  Not for Third Scale the creeping repugnance of the ship’s inner rot. Since their encounter with the dust creatures, they had seen nothing else. The Accursed Eternity had taken on a more familiar aspect and their initial tension was beginning to lessen, although none of them were off their guard.

  ‘All is well here. No further incursions.’ Arion’s voice came across the vox-bead in Korydon’s ear. There had still been no response from Ninth and that bothered him greatly. A warrior of great honour and resolution, Korydon was not yet quite prepared to abandon his personal mission in favour of following Evander’s squad. The last contact they had received suggested that all was well with his brothers and this could simply be nothing more than a temporary communications glitch. He checked his retinal feeds for details on the current life signs of his distant brothers. That connection at least appeared to be working; all of Ninth Scale seemed to be at full health, their indicator runes green and solid. He did not have the data for the Blood Swords squad, but he felt confident enough that they would be fine.

  ‘We should reach the bridge in a few minutes,’ he said to his own squad.

  There was no response.

  Korydon turned around and both of his hearts leaped into his mouth. Where before there had been nine Space Marines behind him, now there was just one. Arion stood opposite him, arms hanging loosely at his side, his head tipped slightly to the right as though he were carefully considering Korydon. His posture was bizarre and for the first time Korydon feared that one of his squad had been compromised.

  His squad.

  ‘Arion, where are the rest of the squad?’

  The Space Marine took a step towards the sergeant, who immediately raised his bolter, levelling it at his battle-brother. ‘Do not make me do this, Arion,’ Korydon said. ‘We have served together for many years. But if you are compromised, you will leave me with no choice. Now answer my question. Where are Ninth Scale?’

  Arion stopped and stared down at the black tunnel of the bolter’s muzzle. He reached up and unclamped the seals of his helm. He removed it and it clattered to the floor. Korydon stared in disbelief. Where once his brother’s battle-scarred face had been there was now nothing but shaped dust.

  You die now.

  Taking several steps backwards, Korydon fired his bolter at the creature that had subsumed his brother and rapidly blink-clicked through to his own squad’s health readings. Arion’s reading was wavering between solid green and a blinking amber. Something of his brother remained, but it would not last. He hurriedly assimilated the rest of the data; Third Scale were here. They were alive somewhere, but he could not see them. Repeated calls to them on the vox were returning nothing at all.

  The shot he had fired had hammered into Arion’s power armour, forcing the creation to take several staggering steps backwards. But just as it had somehow inhabited Arion’s armour, so it had gained access to his weapons. With a whispering laugh that sounded like leaves rustling in the wind, it raised its own bolter and prepared to return fire on the sergeant.

  Korydon felt the impact of the shell on his armour before it exploded, defacing the aquila that decorated his chest. The sergeant stumbled under the impact and received a second shot that scarred the Chapter badge on his shoulder and sent ceramite chips spinning in all directions. Another shell whistled through his field of vision and glanced off his helmet. His head jarred backwards with a crack and he raised his bolter to fire back.

  You die now.

  ‘You first.’

  ‘Sergeant Evander, this is Tylissus. Sergeant Korydon and Arion… They have disappeared.’

  The explosion had rocked the two squads but had performed its designated task admirably. The bulkhead door lay in molten fragments along the corridor. That the Accursed Eternity was a living ship was now a moot point. The veins of daemonic life that had begun to spread from the corridor were now threaded through the floors and ceilings. Some of them pulsed as though they carried blood through them. Ardashir had hacked into one of them with his combat knife and a sticky, tar-like ichor had oozed slowly from it. The fluid had burned a hole through the floor and the Space Marines had from that point onwards made a concerted effort to keep clear of it.

  They had barely gotten through the destroyed door before Tylissus’s transmission had been received.

  ‘What do you mean they have “disappeared”, brother?’ Evander was already on the cusp of anger and Tylissus’s words did little to assist in the calming of his mood.

  ‘We were moving towards the bridge. Arion moved up to stand beside him and then they just vanished. As though they had never been here at all.’

  Evander scrolled through his own data-feed and studied Third Scale’s readings. The icons for both Arion and Korydon had winked out. ‘That is impossible,’ he said, more to himself than to either Tylissus or his own group.

  ‘No,’ said Inquisitor Remigius. ‘No, not impossible. Highly improbable, but possible nonetheless. Daemons have abilities we can only guess at and we are deep within the realm of a powerful entity. We believe that they can create…’ He paused, attempting to draw the picture in a simple manner. It was, strangely for him, not an act of condescension, but simply because the Ordo Malleus themselves had never been able to accurately describe such activity. ‘They can create pockets in the immaterium. Places that exist outside of our awareness that allow them to move unhindered, unseen, until they desire otherwise. Perhaps the sergeant has been pulled into such a trap.’

  ‘How, exactly, do we undo it? How can we bring our men back?’ Evander turned on the inquisitor, his eye lenses glowing a furious red.

  The inquisitor gave a helpless shrug. ‘We can’t,’ he replied. ‘If I had more of my brethren with me, perhaps we might stand a chan
ce of performing the ritual, combining our powers with enough force to pierce this sorcery. But I don’t, and with the greatest of respect, Sergeant Evander, we don’t have the time. There is every chance that the pocket will tear at any moment and your missing men will return just as suddenly as they vanished, but whether they do or not, we have to move onwards. I’m sorry for your loss…’

  This time, Iakodos was not anywhere near fast enough to prevent Evander from grabbing hold of the inquisitor. The Star Dragons sergeant slammed the old man into the wall of the ship causing the pulsing veins beneath the inquisitor’s back to throb slightly. A snaking tendril crept forwards and looked for a moment as though it would wrap itself around the man. With a swift move, one of the Blood Swords sliced at the tendril with a blade. More of the tar-like ichor pooled on the floor, sizzling gently.

  Remigius laughed, a wheezing sound that suggested it was not something he did well; a sound his vocal cords were unused to making. His face twisted in a snarl and his cold eyes fixed on Evander.

  ‘I am an inquisitor of the Ordo Malleus, charged by the God-Emperor of Mankind with the destruction of daemons wherever I find them. You dare to lay hands on me? Release me, you barbaric fool,’ he said, wiping spittle from the corner of his mouth. ‘What good will killing me do other than to satisfy your own primitive bloodlust? Without me, Sergeant Evander, you stand no chance of getting off of the Accursed Eternity.’

  ‘Brother.’ Iakodos moved to stand behind Evander. ‘Do as he says. Let him go.’

  Evander held firm for a moment longer, then he snorted in disgust and released his grip on the inquisitor’s shoulders. Remigius fell to the floor and got back up, dusting himself off in an exaggerated fashion. Several more tendrils snaked out from the wall, but before any of the Space Marines could deal with the threat, the inquisitor had unsheathed his sword and sliced through them.

  And the ship screamed. It was a horrific echo of a thousand voices shrieking in unimaginable agony. It was shrill and Iakodos felt a warm trickle from his ears beneath his helmet as blood began to drip from them. The inquisitor dropped to his knees again, doubled over with his hands clamped to his ears. The sword clattered to the floor and another vein-ridden thing reached to grasp it, but Iakodos stood on it.The screaming stopped.

  ‘Sergeant Evander? Did you hear that?’ Tylissus’s alarmed tone cut into the abrupt silence.

  ‘We move on,’ Evander said. He spoke into the vox. ‘Yes, we heard it, brother. Continue your investigation, Tylissus. Our… charge suggests that Sergeant Korydon may yet return. Report back to me if you find anything. Do you understand me?’

  ‘Message received. Understood.’

  The Space Marines began to move onwards and Remigius looked up at the Chaplain. He took his hands away from his ears and they were stained scarlet.

  ‘My tha–’

  ‘Do not give me your thanks, inquisitor,’ said the Chaplain in a cold, hard tone. He leaned down until his skull mask was inches away from the inquisitor’s face. ‘Your deceit is something that I was prepared to make an allowance for, given the circumstances. Your repeated insults to my battle-brothers, however… Trust me when I say that I can only stay Evander’s hand for so long.’

  With those words, the Chaplain began to follow the others. Remigius shuddered, gathered up the sword and sloped along behind them.

  Blood. Blood in his mouth. Its coppery taste was unwelcome and yet at the same time served to remind him that he was still alive, that the creature who had murdered and possessed his brother had not won the fight. With the toe of his boot, Korydon kicked aside the crumpled pile of power armour. Not even dust remained. He was alone here – wherever here was.

  ‘Korydon to Third Scale.’

  His voice echoed around the corridor and went unanswered. Korydon cycled through the usual vox-channels but every single attempt to contact his brothers was met with crackling static. A further pass through the different frequencies saw no further response, but if he strained to listen, there was something. Half-heard whispers in the heart of the white noise that were indecipherable at first but which seemed then to resolve into distorted echoes of his own words repeated over and over. It was deeply unsettling.

  Taking a moment to compose himself, he ran a self-analysis. The breastplate of his power armour was compromised from the bolter rounds it had withstood. Part of it had crumpled inwards, the buckled ceramite pressing against his fused ribcage. He had taken a hit to the side of the helm, much of which had been destroyed in the process and which had led to the facial injury that had put the blood into his mouth.

  His retinal feed was completely broken. Not a single rune was visible and yet despite its uselessness, he could not bring himself to remove his helmet. He felt, although he could not eloquently vocalise the thought, that to expose himself fully to the air of the Accursed Eternity would be an open invitation to the denizens of the warp.

  Keeping his bolter raised before him, Sergeant Korydon moved alone through a mirror image of the corridor where he had been, unheard and unseen. He had become another one of the daemon-ship’s many ghosts.

  Evander’s fury was great. He stalked the corridor, his bolter ready to fire in a heartbeat. The disappearance of his fellow sergeant, of both of his battle-brothers, weighed heavily on his mind and the anger he harboured towards the inquisitor who had been the cause of those losses knew no bounds.

  ‘You should have killed him when you had the chance.’ The voice entered his ear via his vox-bead but he did not recognise it. Perhaps one of the Blood Swords, he thought. He did not reply and neither did he turn around.

  ‘You could see the very lifeblood pulsing through his jugular vein when you had him held up against the wall, couldn’t you, Evander? How quickly and easily you could have snuffed out his existence, like a hurricane extinguishing a candle. His very being rested in the hands of a great and mighty Star Dragon…’

  ‘Stop that.’ Evander responded into the vox. There was no reply and none of his companions gave any sign that they had even heard him. He called for a communications check and received several responses, including from Tylissus. It did little to satisfy the growing sense of unease he felt. Whose voice had it been? Which one of his brothers dared to speak in such a profoundly disrespectful way?

  ‘Third Scale are dead.’ It was the same voice, as light and insubstantial as a bubble, and it sounded delighted with the news it brought.

  ‘What?’ This time, Evander stopped and whirled around. He spoke, not through the vox, but through the mouth-grille of his helm. ‘Who said that?’

  ‘Sergeant?’ Ardashir moved ahead of the group to stand before him. ‘Nobody said anything.’

  ‘Someone spoke over the vox and told me that Third Scale…’ Evander stared around the assemblage.

  ‘But they are dead. Lost to your Chapter forever and gifted to the master of the Accursed Eternity. Third Scale are lost.’ The voice came again and he stiffened.

  Ardashir noticed the strange movement and took the initiative. He spoke softly into the vox. ‘Tylissus, this is Ardashir. If you witness any other unusual occurrences, be sure to let us know immediately. Received?’

  ‘Message received. Understood.’

  ‘See, Sergeant Evander? They are fine. Control yourself, or do you want to defer command of this group to me?’ Ardashir laid a hand on Evander’s shoulder. He felt great sympathy for Evander at the apparent loss of two of the Star Dragons, but he could not stand by when his brother-sergeant was starting to demonstrate such behaviour.

  Their attention was snapped away from Evander’s erratic mood swings, however, when a low growling noise drew their eyes ahead. A huge beast stood before them, effectively blocking the corridor. It had appeared from seemingly nowhere. It was a dark brown in colour, without fur. Beneath its thin skin muscles and sinew could be seen moving quite clearly. Eight eyes either side of its long snout burned blood-red in the glow of the Space Marines’ gun-mounted lights, and its razor-sharp fangs dripped
with saliva.

  The daemon-beast snarled and crouched low, making ready to spring on the group.

  Evander gave a single order which every Space Marine present acted upon obediently and without hesitation.

  ‘Terminate.’

  The order came a moment too late. The daemon-beast threw back its head and opened its muzzle. No sound came out, but all of the Adeptus Astartes cringed backwards as a psychic scream ripped through their minds. The inquisitor stumbled and fell, blood dribbling from his ears. The four Space Marines at the front of the group squeezed the triggers on their bolters to no avail. Even as the shells struck the creature, it vaporised. A flow of ethereal mist marked its passage as it tore between them, only to rematerialise at the back of the group where Remigius stood.

  Iakodos leaned down and picked up the inquisitor bodily, flinging him backwards out of the way and to safety. Ignoring the faint sounds of protest that he heard, he raised his crozius above his head. The daemon beast shook its head, spittle flying. It bared its lethal-looking teeth again and crouched low. The muscles in its hind quarters bunched and rippled as it prepared to spring at the inquisitor.

  Standing bold before the foul warp-spawned creature, Iakodos raised his skull-helmed head and crozius in defiance of its existence. He began to speak, his voice low at first but rising rapidly to a crescendo. His voice was rich and confident, carrying with it the experience of years of battle.

  ‘I am Hetor Iakodos of the Star Dragons. I serve to live and I live to serve. With my staff of office, I mete out retribution and with my fist I deliver the justice of the Imperium. You have no place here, warp-spawn. Begone!’ The eagle-headed tip of the crozius began to crackle with energy as he thumbed the stud that brought its hidden power to the fore.

  There was a wet burbling sound as though the daemon laughed in response to the Chaplain’s words and Iakodos wasted no more breath. Lunging forwards, he brought the crozius around in a powerful swing. It struck the daemon-beast on the flank and it let out a screech of fury before melting into nothingness again. The trail of mist flowed some way down the corridor before it reconstituted again. The beast stood there, its devil gaze locked with the Chaplain’s own.