He understood Belisarius Cawl, even if he could never condone his actions.
Cawl’s embassy of lesser priests stood by the doors. His chief ambassador knelt before Felix’s throne, waiting for permission to rise. Felix withheld it while he thought.
‘Stand, Qvo-87,’ said Felix, eventually.
The tech-priest stood. ‘I am not Qvo-87, my lord,’ he said. ‘My designation is Qvo-88.’
‘I should have guessed. The one who died within the Pharos was your clone-predecessor. Is there no carry over of personality?’
‘Not quite,’ said Qvo. ‘We share a common origin, but we are individuals.’
‘Then Qvo-87 is truly dead.’
‘Everything can only live once,’ said Qvo-88.
‘Tell me where Cawl is.’
‘You can appreciate that the archmagos is occupied at the time being with data retrieved from the Pharos,’ said Qvo-88.
Felix leaned forwards. His armour growled in the quiet of the audience chamber. ‘Then tell me what the nature of that data is,’ he said.
‘Navigational data. The Pharos was a beacon, a star road and a communications array.’
‘To what end does the archmagos require this data?’
‘My lord! I feel as if I and my master are being subject to inquisition,’ protested Qvo.
‘You are correct to think so. Belisarius Cawl is a hero to many. Yet he concealed the motives for his actions on Sotha, and the presence of a potent enemy of the Imperium, and the results of what he uncovered.’
‘He conceals nothing that does not need concealing, my lord.’
‘He conceals everything,’ said Felix. ‘He knew the C’tan was there.’
Qvo-88 did not deny it. ‘The ends he will put this information to are the ends the great Belisarius Cawl works to without fail, my lord – the salvation of humanity.’
Felix laughed. ‘I assume you cannot be more specific.’
Qvo bowed. ‘Alas, no. A priest of the Cult Mechanicus must be allowed some secrets.’
‘Then I proclaim myself dissatisfied. The primarch will also be dissatisfied.’
‘Why, my lord? Cawl has removed the C’tan shard to a far distant part of the galaxy, and should it return it will surely turn its attentions against the necrons. He has deactivated the xenos device while salvaging all information it had to offer. This will have dealt a blow to some of our greatest foes. There is nothing more I can tell you, my lord. His quest to understand blackstone could save us all. Perhaps it is better that few are aware of what he is doing?’
‘I am sure he would be happy for us to accept that, and allow him to work unobserved. I cannot accept such feeble assurances. I do not trust him.’
‘Everyone has something to hide. The Scythes of the Emperor, for example.’
‘The population they watched over so closely was corrupted by the tyranids, was it not?’ said Felix. ‘That was the source of their shame. They kept their oaths. They listened to their human charges, and they were damned because of it.’
‘Yes. It was so,’ said Qvo.
Felix frowned. ‘I have no idea how such a thing is even possible. Xenos infiltration under a Chapter’s nose.’
‘All things are possible, in the infinity of time and space.’
‘Did Cawl know this as well?’ said Felix.
‘Yes,’ admitted Qvo-88.
Felix sighed. All the Emperor’s gifts could not raise the burden of weariness from his shoulders. ‘Tell me he will at least keep his promise to Chapter Master Thracian.’
At that, Qvo smiled. ‘Observe, my lord,’ he said.
A thousand lights flashed all over the Zar Quaesitor. A swarm of pods detached from the bulk of the ship and flew towards the barren planet.
‘Can he never resist the temptation to theatricality?’ said Felix.
‘You know what he is like,’ said Qvo, who had the good grace to appear embarrassed.
Large amounts of materiel were descending to the surface of Sotha. The ships flew past the scar where the mountain and Sothopolis had been, and which still glowed dull ruby with cooling rock.
‘Cawl has released four hundred thousand servitors for this task, an entire temple of magos geologicum, magos biologians and others. His vaults have given up genetic templates and samples of the world’s lost biospheres. The first cometary mining fleet has already been despatched. He will keep his promise. In a few hundred years, Sotha will be fit for human habitation again. One day, perhaps, you might never know that it was stripped at all.’
‘That is good. But it is not sufficient. I am displeased, and I will make my report to this effect.’
‘For that purpose, here also I have the data Lord Guilliman requested.’ Qvo beckoned a servant forwards, who held out an open wooden chest full of neatly stacked crystal discs. ‘I trust it will satisfy him and you. For now, the archmagos has business elsewhere, but when he returns to Ultramar, which he will, he will seek out the Imperial regent personally. He gives you his word.’
‘He could have given me his word himself,’ said Felix.
‘He is regretfully busy. Besides, between you and I, he thinks you might have decided to detain him.’
‘I wonder where he got that idea from,’ said Felix.
‘Quite, my lord.’ Qvo bowed again. ‘If there is nothing else, I must return to the Zar Quaesitor. If you need anything further, the archmagos has left Hierophant Particular Ix Trenth in command of the geoforming efforts and Grand Archimage Triplex-Edic-0-1011 to oversee the reconstruction of the orbital. They are fine priests, irreproachably loyal to the Machine-God and to He of Terra. They will serve you well.’
‘They are fully autonomous?’
Qvo gave an apologetic smile. ‘As much as the archmagos is comfortable with. Those who follow the archmagos must sacrifice only some of their self-determination for a share of his knowledge,’ he added hastily.
‘I do not understand Cawl. He surrounds himself with puppet creatures.’
Qvo’s smile broadened. ‘He does. Like me. He can’t help himself. I am allowed enough insight to see that it does not make him happy. It is why he is so fond of you, Decimus Androdinus Felix. You are nobody’s pawn. You are like a son to him.’
Felix stared at Qvo-88.
‘We are done. I will report to the primarch.’
‘Then I beg your leave.’
‘Take it,’ said Felix tersely.
Felix watched Qvo all the way out of the door. His lackeys followed, mumbling cant and emitting plumes of scented smoke. Cominus and Ixen shut the gilded doors behind them, leaving the tetrarch alone with his thoughts.
The window drew his attention. More vessels were detaching themselves from the Zar Quaesitor. Light sparkled on the grey, dead face of Sotha. Work had already begun.
‘If you can bring life back to this world, Cawl,’ Felix said to himself, ‘maybe I shall forgive you some of your methods.’
He called down a vox-horn from the ceiling. Two servo-skulls fashioned from the remains of dead Primaris warriors – the first martyrs of Sothara – bore the apparatus to his lips.
‘Brother Cadmus,’ he said. Machines within read his voice print and instantly connected him to the Scythe of the Emperor.
‘My lord,’ said Cadmus. He had been withdrawn since the Pharos had been destroyed, but spoke proudly. ‘What is your command?’
‘Contact your Chapter, Cadmus. With my full authority, tell the sons of Sotha that their lord and master Thracian is dead in glorious combat, and that their world is returned to them. There are duties they must attend to. Let the Aegida orbital be their fortress-monastery from henceforth, so that they might watch the eastern marches of Greater Ultramar for all threats, and fulfil their ancient obligations with honour.
‘It is time for the Scythes of the Emperor to return home.’
<
br /> Circa 10,000 years ago
Sedayne came around to the Altrix slapping his face.
‘Director?’ she said. ‘Director, are you with us? Was the procedure a success?’
Sedayne’s eyes focused on her concerned expression.
‘You are fussing,’ he said. Cawl’s voice was strange in Sedayne’s ears. His robes and hands were damp with blood. ‘Stop slapping me.’
‘Yes, my lord,’ she said, backing away instantly. She signalled the guards. They saluted and lowered their weapons.
Groggily, Sedayne sat up, and patted himself down. ‘This body is weak. It is small. It is poorly nourished. Summon my chefs, I desire to eat. A lot. And get me my weapon. It is precious to me.’
The Altrix’s face lit up; evidently she had feared the worst. Her hair swung in front of her face as she enthusiastically bowed. Sedayne’s appetite had been dwindling for years. ‘Yes, my lord.’ She retrieved his gun from the guard, and held it out to him in both hands. ‘There is no mistaking your manner, my lord. It is you.’
‘What else did you expect?’ Sedayne said gruffly. It took him two attempts to take the gun from her hands. He swung his legs off the table to stand. He stumbled. The Altrix Herminia rushed to help, but he pushed her away.
‘Dismiss those fools!’ he snapped, waving at the guards. ‘I do not wish to be observed while I am weak.’
‘Get out!’ shouted the Altrix, amplifying Sedayne’s anger.
The guards departed, leaving them alone. Sedayne staggered over to the second bed. His old body lay slack as an emptied bag.
‘I look so old,’ he said.
‘You are young again, my lord,’ said the Altrix.
Sedayne closed his old body’s eyes with the flat of his hand, and shut the open jaw tenderly.
‘I am,’ he said. He rested a moment, holding his weight on his hands, his knuckles tight around the handle of his gun. ‘I can feel Cawl inside my mind. He lives in part. I regret what had to be done.’
‘Yes, my lord director.’
‘I made a promise. I will keep it before he fades away.’ Sedayne made his tottering way towards the door. ‘The other tech-priest, does he yet live?’
‘Do you really wish to save him, my lord? He will soon be dead.’
‘He cannot be saved?’
‘No, director. My bolt obliterated most of his internal organs. It is a marvel he still lives. There is not time for vat organs or augmetics to be fitted.’
‘Then get a cryo-flask for his head!’ Sedayne snarled. ‘Save at least some of him.’ He blundered through the doors, and staggered down the corridor, back to the chamber where the dying Friedisch lay.
‘Perhaps a memory exload will be successful,’ the Altrix said as she followed him. ‘But why attempt it? You have what you want.’
Sedayne gave her a cold look. ‘Because I gave Cawl my word.’
The guards had retreated to the outer door. They stood watching Friedisch bleed to death with complete detachment.
Sedayne went to his side, and fell to his knees in the pool of red around him. Friedisch stirred weakly. His remaining human eye opened in a face grey with loss of blood.
‘Cawl?’ he whispered.
Sedayne took his hand. ‘Where is the damn cryo-flask? Get it in here now!’ he shouted. The Altrix ushered out the guards.
Friedisch’s hand was limp. Blood flowed slowly from the crater in his stomach.
‘The procedure was a success. I am Director Sedayne, servant and confidante of the Emperor. I have come to you as I gave my word to save you.’
‘Then you killed my friend,’ moaned Friedisch. His eye closed. ‘I want nothing from you.’
‘He was truly your friend?’ Sedayne asked. He gripped Friedisch’s bloody hand tighter.
Friedisch looked at him again. ‘Yes. Yes, he was my friend.’
‘An infuriating, egotistical, self-centred, arrogant friend who always thought he was right?’
A sleepy frown crossed Friedisch’s face. ‘Yes. All of those things. But he was still my friend.’
Sedayne grinned sadly and winked at Friedisch. ‘He sounds like a terrible fellow. Perhaps I should have chosen someone less pompous.’
‘Cawl?’ said Friedisch, recovering a little.
The Altrix stepped forwards. ‘Director Sedayne, is everything all right?’
‘Yes, yes,’ said Sedayne imperiously. He sat back on the balls of his feet. ‘Well, actually. No. There is quite a lot that is not all right, if we’re going to be totally honest with each other.’
‘Sir?’
Sedayne held up his gun and pointed it at her head.
‘The thing is, Herminia, I’m not Director Sedayne. My name is Belisarius Cawl. Do you think Sedayne’s insipid personality could overwrite mine?’
She went for her own gun, but Cawl was quicker.
‘I don’t take kindly to those who kill my friends, madam.’
His shot took the whole of her head off, cauterising her neck. Her body fell to the ground with a thump.
‘Cawl,’ said Friedisch. ‘You survived. I am… so… glad…’
‘Don’t you die on me!’ Cawl snapped. ‘Wake up! No dying! I forbid it!’
Friedisch’s hand slipped from his.
‘Friedisch, dear Friedisch, no, wait, hang on, please!’ Cawl turned to the door in a panic and shouted as loud as he could. ‘Bring me the cryo-flask! Bring it now!’
Cawl opened channels to multiple ocular organs. It was strange, to go from that long-ago version of himself, with its laughable reliance on native human senses, to his present exalted being replete with dozens of prosthetic enhancements. To think once he had eschewed divine enhancement.
The feeling would not last long. The memories were already fading.
Locking clamps disengaged, releasing him into a laboratory full of necron technology stolen from a hundred worlds. Pale green light ran in channels in the floor, linking the machine-spirits of the artefacts together and keeping them alive. He had shucked off his more belligerent apparatus, becoming sleeker as a result. Currently his appendages all sported testing equipment.
Primus and Qvo-88 awaited him.
‘You are ready, my lord?’ Qvo-88 asked.
‘I am, I am,’ said Cawl distractedly. ‘You know,’ he said, as he ran his hand along the surface of a glowing obelisk, ‘I can feel Sedayne buried in me still. And Hester Aspertia, and a few others I have absorbed over the millennia. It is strange to be reminded of them.’ He moved on to the next artefact. ‘I had totally forgotten. I wonder if I will remember them for long this time, or if I will slip once more into ignorance. Maybe I will be periodically jolted out of forgetfulness every time we encounter another beacon?’ He shuddered. ‘I do not think I could stand that.’
He moved to the centre of the room. A compressed version of the Pharos star map rotated in the air, green necron data superimposed over grainy Imperial stellar cartography.
‘The galaxy has changed a great deal, master,’ said Primus. ‘Can you find what you seek? Tens of millions of years have passed since this map was created.’
‘That is so,’ said Cawl. He gazed at the ancient overlay, taking in the simple purity of the galaxy as it was aeons before mankind evolved. ‘The great work as it should be. No stains of psychic energy, no monsters unleashed from the mind, but the perfect function of stars, worlds, life and peoples in accord with the sacred laws of the Machine-God.’ He smiled. His pale lips were clearly visible, for he wore no facial prosthetic. ‘How much better things were then. It is up to us, up to me, to put it back the way it was.’ He moved around the maps, noting in minute detail the many differences between them. ‘If one listens to the legends of the aeldari, one would think the Old Ones to be perfect angels. In truth they have a lot to answer for.’
He turned to his servants.
‘The necron star map will take some months to fully comprehend. The Pharos is gone, but there are other beacons hidden upon the worlds of their ancient empire.’ He sighed at the map. ‘Every deposit of blackstone in the galaxy,’ he said. ‘And so much more besides.’ He drew himself up a little. ‘To business. Activate the Cawl Inferior. I had better send Guilliman another message before he loses patience and hunts me down. And you, Friedisch, begin an audit on all my memory stores across the galaxy. After the revelations given to me by the Pharos, I can only ponder what other secrets I might uncover in my scattered memory banks. It is time,’ he said to them, ‘that I got to know myself a little better.’
‘It shall be done, archmagos.’ Qvo bowed and looked to be about to leave, but he hesitated. ‘Please, archmagos, I am not Friedisch. He is dead. I am Qvo-88.’
Cawl continued to peer into the wonders of the necron map. Other data, more precious still, coursed through his mind, exhilarating in its alienness.
‘I know, Qvo,’ he said distractedly, ‘I know.’
About the Author
Guy Haley is the author of the Siege of Terra novel The Lost and the Damned, as well as the Horus Heresy novels Titandeath, Wolfsbane and Pharos, and the Primarchs novels Konrad Curze: The Night Haunter, Corax: Lord of Shadows and Perturabo: The Hammer of Olympia. He has also written the Warhammer 40,000 novels Dark Imperium, Dark Imperium: Plague War, The Devastation of Baal, Dante, Baneblade, Shadowsword, Valedor and Death of Integrity. For the Beast Arises series he has written Throneworld and The Beheading. His enthusiasm for all things greenskin has also led him to pen the eponymous Warhammer novel Skarsnik, as well as the End Times novel The Rise of the Horned Rat. He has also written stories set in the Age of Sigmar, included in War Storm, Ghal Maraz and Call of Archaon. He lives in Yorkshire with his wife and son.
An extract from Rites of Passage.
They were forty-seven hours out of Necromunda when the warp shock took hold.
Chettamandey Vula Brobantis jerked awake from cloying dreams of roaring giants and blood-flecked axes as the Solarox shuddered violently, the entire starship spasming like some mighty aquatic beast impaled by a hunter’s harpoon. She rolled to her right, ignoring the pain in her shoulder, and reached out with her left hand to slap the lumens on. Pale light sprang up at the gesture, as torches held aloft by bronze images of Terran saints illuminated her private chambers. The rays glinted dully off the gilded surfaces of her dressing table – built of wood from a planet liberated from the savage aeldari – reflected from the gilt-edged mirror presented to her as a gift by Admiral Venuza of the 19th Pacificum Sector Fleet, and got tangled in the folds of black Azantian lace that hung around her huge, pillar-cornered bed. The bed that until a matter of days ago, she’d shared with her husband of forty-three Terran years.
Belisarius Cawl- the Great Work - Guy Haley Page 33