‘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 evidence had prompted this re-evaluation 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 Griffo
ns 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.
Reinez had chosen his thunder hammer to fight with. It was a well-used 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 one-handed, 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 battle-brothers 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 aside with the haft of his hammer and cracked the butt of the weapon into the side of N’Kalo’s head. N’Kalo reeled and Reinez closed, driving his shoulder into N’Kalo’s midriff and hauling the Space Marine off the ground.
Reinez hefted N’Kalo into the air and threw him. N’Kalo tumbled over the bank of the river and into the water, the powerful stream foaming around him. Reinez jumped in after him, dragging N’Kalo to his feet. The water came up to each Space Marine’s chest. Reinez slammed a headbutt into the face of N’Kalo’s helm, denting the ceramite faceplate.
N’Kalo drove a knee into the inside of Reinez’s thigh. Reinez stumbled back a step, feet slipping on the stones and mud of the artificial riverbed. N’Kalo crunched an elbow into the back of Reinez’s head and pulled his sword from the water again, slicing left and right. Reinez deflected each blow with his hammer or glanced them from his shoulder pads.
N’Kalo paused, having created the space he needed between the two combatants. He shifted his footing to plant himself more firmly on the bed of mud and rocks. Behind him, rapids rushed around several large boulders, plunging down a low waterfall. The branches of overhanging willows almost brushed the river’s surface. If it were not for the two Adeptus Astartes struggling to shed one another’s blood, it would have been a tranquil and beautiful place.
N’Kalo’s breath was heaving. Reinez looked like he had barely broken a sweat. N’Kalo had not yet managed to draw blood from the Crimson Fist.
‘Do you think this will be over?’ said Reinez as he forged through the waters, trying to force N’Kalo back towards the rapids. ‘If the galaxy turns upside-down and you beat me, how long do you think your victory will last? You think you will have any brothers here? They will turn their backs on you.’
‘They are not so consumed with bitterness as you, Reinez,’ replied N’Kalo. ‘They have not let failure make them less of an Adeptus Astartes.’
Reinez’s face darkened. He spat a wordless syllable of anger and charged – not at N’Kalo, but at the closest tree that clung to the riverbank. Reinez wrenched the tree free of its roots, showering dirt and loose stones across the water.
Reinez’s anger gave him strength. N’Kalo had barely the time to get his sword up before Reinez slammed the shattered tree trunk into him, throwing him backwards into the water. The impact was enough to knock him senseless and his heavy armoured body thudded onto the riverbed, waters rushing around him.
Reinez pounced from the bank into the water, one knee pounding square into N’Kalo’s solar plexus. Reinez hauled the Iron Knight over his head, out of the water, and slammed him down into one of the massive boulders making up the rapids. The boulder shattered under the impact and N’Kalo sprawled against it, water foaming white around him, unable to move.
Reinez planted a foot on N’Kalo’s midriff. Both hands free now, his hammer holstered, he grabbed the lower edge of N’Kalo’s helmet and wrenched it halfway around, forcing it off N’Kalo’s head.
The helmet came free with a shower of sparks. Reinez was looking into a face severely burned, every blister and scour looking like it had just been inflicted, red and weeping. N’Kalo’s lips were pale streaks in the blackened skin, his eyes kept open only by artificial surfaces of milky glass that made them look blind. His jaw and back teeth showed through the tears in his cheeks, and segments of cranium glinted as if polished between the stringy remnants of his scalp.
‘When I am finished with you,’ spat Reinez, ‘you will look back and remember how handsome you were.’
Reinez shouldered N’Kalo over the rapids down the falls. The Iron Knight was barely sensible as he plunged into the pool formed by the waterfall. Reinez stood on the rapids, hauling another rock up from the riverbed. He hurled it down at N’Kalo, who got an arm up to ward off the worst of the impact but who was crushed down into the pool, trapped by its weight.
Reinez jumped down onto the rock that pinned N’Kalo in place. N’Kalo was not quite beneath the surface but little more than his ruined face could be seen above the water. Reinez stood and took his hammer off his back, holding it with both hands, the well-worn head of the weapon aiming down at N’Kalo’s face.
Reinez drove the hammer down at N’Kalo. N’Kalo forced his sword out from below the rock and slashed the hammer aside. Expecting an impact and off balance Reinez fell forward, landing face to face with N’Kalo.
The other Adeptus Astartes had by now gathered on the bank of the river and they watched as the two Space Marine wrestled in the water, Reinez trying to force N’Kalo’s head below the surface, N’Kalo trying to wriggle from under the rock and bring his sword to bear. The thunder hammer lay in the water, abandoned, as Reinez went at N’Kalo with his bare hands.
The watching Space Marines parted as Vladimir joined them. He stood on one of the flat rocks that made up the rapids, no expression on his face.
N’Kalo hurled the rock away. Reinez had to jump back to keep his own legs from being trapped under it. N’Kalo slammed the pommel of his sword into Reinez’s side and kicked out at him, trying to drive him against the stone wall carved by the waterfall. Reinez spun, locked N’Kalo’s sword arm in the crook of his elbow and ripped the sword from N’Kalo’s hand. Reinez threw the sword aside and it disappeared under the foaming water.
Both Space Marines were bleeding now. N’Kalo’s armour was dented from the impacts, to the extent that it was as much a hindrance to his movement as protection. Reinez’s nose might have been broken, judging by the bloo
d spilling down his chest, black against the dark blue of his breastplate.
When the two closed in and locked up in a wrestler’s clinch, every Space Marine watching knew it was for the last time. N’Kalo was a fine combatant, but his wounds, more severe on the inside than the outside, drained the strength from his limbs. Reinez had been fighting for the last few years without any battle-brothers at his side, learning to survive by his wits alone, with fists and teeth if need be. Reinez pushed N’Kalo down onto one knee, wrenched one of the Iron Knight’s shoulders out of its socket, and dropped into a shoulder charge that smashed N’Kalo into the riverbank.
N’Kalo could not raise his free arm into a guard. Reinez slammed his fist into N’Kalo’s face.
‘They will cast you out!’ roared Reinez, his fist hitting home again. ‘They will banish you! You will know my pain!’
Reinez punched over and over. Ultra-dense Adeptus Astartes bone fractured. N’Kalo’s cheekbone caved in, then his jaw. One eye socket was stove inwards, half-shutting his eye. Bloody skin clung to Reinez’s knuckles.
‘Outcast! Pariah! You shall be no man’s brother!’
‘Stop,’ said Vladimir.
Reinez did not stop. Another half-dozen blows rained down. Broken teeth clotted the blood that oozed from N’Kalo’s shattered mouth.
The boot that cracked into Reinez’s face belonged to Captain Lysander, who had stepped out of the watching crowd at a signal from Vladimir. The blow caught Reinez by surprise and he fell backwards off N’Kalo, sprawling in the water.
‘I said stop,’ said Vladimir.
Reinez scrabbled to his feet, wiping the back of one gauntlet across his face to remove the worst of N’Kalo’s blood. ‘You see?’ he gasped. ‘The Emperor lent me strength. Dorn has spoken. The duel is over.’
‘It is,’ said Vladimir. ‘My brothers, the apothecaries among you attend to Captain N’Kalo while the Phalanx’s own medicae staff are summoned. I must have him conscious to present his evidence.’
‘Lord Vladimir!’ protested Reinez. ‘He was defeated! The duel was won! I demand N’Kalo’s silence as is my right by victory!’
Hammer and Bolter Year One Page 59