Pharos

by Guy Haley

  Mericus recognised them all. The Scouts had been familiar sights in Sothopolis, sent out to help the colonists as part of their normalisation training or somesuch. He smiled in relief.

  ‘I thought we were dead there!’ he said.

  ‘You almost were,’ said Solon. Mericus remembered him being particularly humorless.

  ‘Where’s your sergeant?’

  ‘Hurt,’ said Oberdeii.

  The boys looked at each other uneasily. ‘Boys’ didn’t cover what they were. They were taller than Mericus, and massively muscled, but he lacked a suitable alternative term.

  ‘We’re heading for the Emperor’s Watch, but we can’t move fast with him,’ said Oberdeii.

  Mericus frowned. ‘Come in by the tunnels.’

  ‘Not safe,’ said Oberdeii, and Mericus sensed a deeper reluctance behind his words. ‘We came down last night, crashed. You?’ said Oberdeii.

  ‘The mountain is holding out. We’re not much good in the tunnels. The Night Lords would kill us in a second, so we’re sent out to scout.’

  ‘We’re nothing but something to trip over,’ said Hasquin frustratedly.

  ‘So we keep an eye out for infiltration teams. We drop the occasional ambush, when we can,’ said Mericus.

  ‘You’ve killed some of them?’ said Solon incredulously.

  Mericus nodded. ‘A few. Look, you better come back with us. My men are resting up nearby in an old herder’s hide. You’d be much better off inside the mountain.’

  ‘We were going to help the civilians,’ said Solon. He gave Oberdeii a dark look. ‘But our acting-sergeant changed his mind.’

  ‘We had to keep Arkus safe,’ said Oberdeii. ‘Missions change.’

  ‘Arkus is your sergeant?’

  The youths nodded.

  ‘I am in charge until he recovers,’ said Oberdeii.

  ‘He’s been down since the invasion began?’

  ‘He’ll make it,’ said Oberdeii aggressively. That told Mericus every­thing he needed to know. Mericus was sympathetic to the youth. Space Marines were not indestructible, either in body or mind. Losing their mentor would be hard.

  ‘Is he far?’

  ‘Not far,’ said Oberdeii. ‘He’s with Tebecai.’

  ‘Let’s go and get him then. Then you should come back with us. There are a number of your own in the mountain. You can rejoin them.’

  ‘They’re not all dead?’ said the third. Mericus didn’t know him so well. Tolomachus, that was his name.

  ‘They’re not all dead.’

  The young recruits grinned with relief at one another. Their demeanour changed. Guns that had been pointing at Mericus and Hasquin suddenly were not.

  ‘Finally,’ said Solon. ‘Unless you’re going to give us another reason to stay out of the Pharos, brother.’

  Oberdeii glared at him.

  ‘Hasquin, I reckon you can put your hands down now. Lads, we should go.’

  ‘First we must get our sergeant, and Tebecai,’ said Oberdeii.

  Mericus looked upwards through the crowding fronds of the trees. ‘All right, but we need to be quick. It’s getting late.’

  The Sothans’ camp was noiseless. They communicated by glance and gesture. When Mericus and Hasquin led the Scouts through the narrow, vegetation-choked entrance and inside, many eyes followed them, but nobody spoke.

  A cascade of swiftvine hid the gap in the rock. The plants obligingly rewove themselves into a thick mat at night, making the hideout practically impossible to see from outside.

  Inside, the cave opened up into a long chamber that ended in an abrupt dead end. The ceiling became lower and lower, until the far end terminated in a shallow curve barely half the height of a man. Unusually, the cave had part-filled. If there was a tube leading into the mountain as there was in most of these seeming cul-de-sacs, it had been buried by the drift of packed soil and leaf mould that made up the floor. The air in the cave was blue with woodsmoke from the one small fire they allowed themselves. As the green light from the entrance was limited, the endless twilight of the underworld reigned within.

  Mericus had the boys bring their sergeant to the back of the cave, where the Sothans’ field medicae Kerit had a small station upon a not-quite-level shelf of black rock. A limited collection of bandages and other medical supplies was neatly arrayed at its head. He eyed Mericus with a mixture of amazement and extreme annoyance as the giant Arkus was laid down by his charges.

  Kerit jerked his head meaningfully toward the cave mouth.

  ‘You better wait by the entrance,’ Mericus told the Scouts.

  They were reluctant to go, but Tebecai understood, and gently coaxed them away from the medicae station.

  ‘I will stay,’ said Oberdeii.

  Mericus put his hands on the Space Marine’s huge shoulders.

  ‘Let Kerit do his work, Oberdeii. I’ll come and get you when he’s had a look, all right?’

  Oberdeii stared over Mericus’ head to where Arkus lay. Mericus thought the Scout was past hearing his words, or perhaps deliberately ignoring him. But he turned without a word and went to join his brothers. Mericus watched them gather by the slit leading outside. Demethon approached them with a canteen of water and a handful of field rations. After a pause they accepted them, and Mericus went back to the medicae.

  Kerit stared at the giant body, as if he had no idea what manner of creature the sergeant was. His bier filled the rock shelf.

  ‘Is he dead?’ asked Mericus softly.

  ‘Not quite. He’s gone into suspension.’

  ‘They can do that?’

  ‘They can do that. When they are injured.’

  ‘How?’ said Mericus.

  Kerit rounded on him. ‘How by all the Illyrian hells should I know? Damn it, Mericus, I’m not even a proper medicae! The best I’m for is fixing the broken legs on quarians.’ He looked hopelessly at the wounded Space Marine. ‘I wish I never said I knew a little healing. I’d be happier with a lasgun. Men are hard enough, but this is well beyond me. He’s a legionary, Mericus. What do I know about that? I don’t even know where to start! He’s as big as a phantine and in there…’ He pointed at the black wound in Arkus’ side. ‘What’s in there is barely human.’

  Mericus glanced at the Scouts. ‘Keep it down, Kerit, you forget how fine their ears are. Can you fix him?’

  ‘He’s suffered massive internal trauma…’ Kerit shook his head. ‘Honestly, it looks like he took a hit from a lascannon. There’s nothing I can do.’

  ‘Apparently, he did take a hit from a lascannon.’

  Kerit leaned on the rock shelf. He closed his eyes. In the gloom of the cave his fatigue-pale skin was ghostly. ‘Well. That explains a lot. For the time being, his body is compensating. If I could get him to a Legion Apothecary, they might fix him up, but up here? He’s on a slow road to the underworld. He’s got a day, maybe, at best.’

  ‘Is there an Apothecary in the mountain?’

  ‘One, I think. But this level of injury is beyond the facilities there. If they still held the castellum there might be a chance, but the move would probably kill him anyway. I’m sorry, Mericus. It’s astounding he’s lasted this long. His time’s up. There’s nothing I can do.’

  ‘What do we tell the boys?’

  Kerit wiped his hands on a filthy towel and threw it down. ‘They’re not boys, Mericus. They might look a little like it, but they’re not. They’re Space Marines. There’s only one thing you can tell them.’ Kerit lifted eyes made bleary and red by lack of sleep and woodsmoke. ‘The truth.’ Clearly Kerit didn’t want to be the man to deliver it.

  The Scouts huddled together, attention directed to where their surrogate father lay. ‘I’ll do it.’

  ‘Thank you. It’s for the best. When are we returning? The men are close to exhaustion.’

  ‘Thi
s evening. There’s been no sign of the enemy up here for hours, but that might have more to do with the Scouts than with us.’

  Mericus went to deliver the bad news. They could tell what he was going to say. There was shocked silence, disbelief.

  ‘We’re going back up the mountain later,’ he told them.

  ‘We should carry on fighting,’ said Tolomachus. ‘There’s no time to rest.’

  ‘If we could get Arkus into the mountain, the Apothecary there might help him,’ said Tebecai.

  ‘Who is it?’ asked Solon.

  ‘An Imperial Fist, one of the Lightkeepers. I don’t know him.’

  ‘Oberdeii? What’s your decision?’ asked Mericus.

  Oberdeii shifted his bolter uncomfortably. Everyone in the cave was staring at him.

  ‘Oberdeii? You’re in command,’ said Mericus.

  ‘All right, all right.’ Oberdeii looked upwards in the direction of the peak beyond the walls. ‘We go up. We will follow Sergeant Mericus and his men.’

  Arkus died before they got to the top of the mountain. Mericus was not sure if the Scouts noticed when he passed or if they just carried on, bearing their leader in silence.

  Only when they came to the entrance to the Pharos caves did the young Ultramarines set Arkus down, stand around him and bow their heads. Their actions displayed a dignity that deeply moved Mericus.

  Gate A, as the cave was dubbed, hid in a cracked landscape where the crags of the mountain broke downwards into the upper woods. The treeline was a couple of hundred metres higher still, and by the cave the quicktrees grew tall enough to mask their presence.

  From outside, the cavern looked deserted; inside it was anything but. Warriors in the yellow of Dorn’s Imperial Fists held the way. Two rough pillboxes made of field stones expertly fitted together guarded the entrance on the inside, manned by Ultramarines in battered armour. In the middle of the entrance, calm as a man who awaits guests on his porch, stood a giant. His golden-yellow armour was bright and clean enough for the parade ground. Upon one arm was a huge shield, while the other was clad in a massive power fist underslung with a meltagun. Implacable, immovable as Mount Pharos himself, Polux was the keeper of the mountain.

  ‘Captain Polux,’ said Mericus. ‘You are spoiling us with this welcome.’

  ‘I came to see for myself the damage the traitors are doing to your world,’ said Polux. ‘How went your patrol, sergeant? I see from the smoke they are burning the lower parts of the forest.’ He looked past Mericus and his ragged band of Sothans to the young Ultramarines bringing up the rear, but did not ask directly of them, not yet. Polux liked to hear what his men had to say for themselves. ‘Report.’

  Mericus gave a lazy salute. He was incredibly tired, his lungs burning with the altitude.

  ‘The Night Lords are massing at multiple points all round the base of the mountain below our sector. I imagine it is the same elsewhere.’

  Polux nodded. ‘They gather for another attack. We shall be ready for them.’

  ‘I’m sure you will. I, on the other hand, am about ready to drop. My men need rest, as much as you can give. Please, we’ve not slept for nearly forty-eight hours,’ he added. ‘We’re not like you. If only we were.’

  ‘If you were, then I might not trust you. Honour is in short supply among the Legions. You do your part well, sergeant.’

  Mericus scratched his hair. It was unkempt, full of soil and twigs and the old gods alone knew what else. ‘Thanks. But a good sleep would be better than gratitude. Any word from the rest of our boys?’

  ‘Your comrades returned an hour ago.’

  ‘That news is better than a rest. Although,’ he added hurriedly. ‘I will still take the rest.’

  ‘Who are these others?’ Polux asked.

  ‘Scouts. Found them on the mountain.’ Mericus waved Oberdeii forward. ‘Acting-Sergeant Oberdeii, meet Captain Alexis Polux of the Imperial Fists. He’s in charge. I’ll let you two get to know each other. I’ll just be over here should you need me, slowly dying.’

  Without waiting to be dismissed Mericus went to the side of the cave entrance. There he placed his back against the smoothness of the alien stone and slid down until he was sitting on the floor. The remnants of his squad joined him and wearily slumped down beside him. He had only nine men, a mix from all the squads. Vitellius had a few more; the rest were dead. That was the way the universe rolled the dice. Sergeant Bolarion had been overjoyed that his family had survived, only to be blown to pieces a few hours later. Someone somewhere was having a good laugh at Mericus’ expense.

  ‘Life is a crappy business,’ said Mericus to himself.

  ‘Sarge?’

  ‘Nothing, Tiny.’ Mericus watched the giant Imperial Fist talk to the Scouts. He found Polux as stony as he did intimidating. The captain’s lack of human feelings beyond anger, rectitude and honour grated on his easy-going nature, but there was something melancholy to him also: sorrow at the war in part certainly, and something more. Mericus was an excellent judge of character, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that Polux thought himself unworthy. There is a connection between us, he thought, though we hide it differently. If we talked more, we would understand each other.

  The Scouts saluted the Imperial Fist, and went inside. Polux beckoned Mericus. With supreme effort, he stood.

  ‘It is not an easy thing for a neophyte to lose his master. These Scouts have done well.’

  ‘Perhaps you should say that to them.’

  ‘There is no need. They are Space Marines, they will understand.’

  ‘Perhaps you should anyway,’ said Mericus. ‘They’re only young.’

  ‘And why do you think I did not?’ said Polux. A little strain entered his voice. ‘I have welcomed them into our company. They will fight alongside your men from now on.’

  Mericus’ eyes widened. ‘That I didn’t expect.’

  ‘Are you going to start babbling on about the honour and so forth, Mericus?’

  ‘Well, no. Hang on, are you teasing me?’

  ‘About the honour, yes I am,’ said Polux. ‘I am not completely humourless. But not about your co-operation. These Ultramarines are not fully formed. They will not last long in the tunnels. That is close work, for which their armour is insufficient.’

  ‘Then scavenge them some – they’ll be more use to you than I’ll be to them.’

  ‘They cannot bear battleplate, not yet. Their transition is incomplete, they have not taken their carapaces. Without them, our armour is useless. But they are good Scouts. Like you and your shepherds, they can move through the terrain undetected. They have spent half their lives here. They are almost as Sothan as you.’

  ‘I’m not a Sothan,’ said Mericus quietly. His neck hurt from craning, so he dropped his eyes from Polux’s face. The Imperial Fist was huge; Mericus came only to the rims of his shoulder guards.

  ‘Your men would disagree, Mericus. You carry yourself around us as if you believe you are of no consequence. That is not true. You are a little man in stature compared to I, but your deeds are far bigger than you appreciate. More than one of us already owes you a debt of honour.’ Polux raised his massive gauntlet in salute. ‘Go to your rest. You will be leaving again in four hours.’

  Mericus gathered his weary crew about him. He nodded to Sergeant Solus manning the inner defences, and stepped into the welcome cool of the Pharos.

  Behind him, Alexis Polux looked out from his eyrie over the green folds of the mountain at the columns of smoke billowing skyward. For the time being, all was quiet.

  That would not last.

  TWENTY-ONE

  A murder of crows

  Sacrifice

  Double-edged gift

  The second day of the invasion was coming to a close when the lords of night held conclave.

  ‘Would anyone perhaps care to tell me why, when we
are twenty thousand fine killers in number, we cannot take one small mountain off a handful of Guilliman’s brigade of public officials?’

  Krukesh swept his sword down, shattering the top of the table hololith into square shards of black glass. The rotating image of Mount Pharos fizzed and popped out of existence.

  ‘If only it were so easy,’ said Claw Master Benthen Gesh. He spoke behind his hand, but intended that everyone hear.

  ‘You do realise, Gesh, that every hour we are here brings us closer to defeat? The Ultramarines will be on their way here. Roboute Guilliman has a mind like an abacus, but even he shall be able to see, once he has exhausted every tedious line of logical deduction, that we are the totality of the threat, that there is no realm-wide invasion coming. Once he realises that there is only our force, he will come down on this planet waxing wrathful. He has a reputation for weakling mercy, but I am sure even his refined sense of justice will not stop him putting your head upon a pike when he gets here.’

  ‘Then I ask, claw lord, why are we engaged in this offensive at all?’ said Gesh, who was not a warrior to be easily cowed by anyone, least of all Krukesh. ‘We have taken an excess of casualties. It is all well to sneer at the wardens of Ultramar as slaves to base humanity, but they fight boldly. That is why we do not have their mountain.’

  Krukesh leaned on the wreck of the table. ‘I would take care not to address me again in that manner, claw master.’

  ‘Of course, claw lord,’ Gesh said snidely.

  ‘We are here because that beacon offers the Ultramarines something. And I want it. Who knows what else it does? It is not only a light in the sky.’

  Skraivok snorted.

  ‘Do you find something funny, Skraivok?’ said Krukesh. The claw lord fixed him with his doleful black eyes.

  ‘No, my lord. A recalled irony. That is all.’

  ‘If you would be so good as to return your attention to the matter at hand?’

  Skraivok bowed sharply. The enmity Krukesh had for him radiated ever stronger. He could not fathom why he had attracted such opprobrium from the claw lord, and in light of that it was an even greater mystery why Krukesh had rescued him in the first place. Both questions vexed Skraivok greatly. No answer could be found, a regrettable state of affairs that seemed to be his lot of late.