DAEMONOLOGYChrisWraight

TheworldwascalledTerathalion,namedforthespeciesofjewelfoundinitsequatorialbeltundermountainsofcopperandiron.EvenduringthelonginterstellarsilencebeforetheIpsissimushadmadehimselfknown,thoseswirledgreen-orangejewelshadbeenminedandcutandpolished,adorningthechieftreasuresoftheplanet–thesewerealwaysbooks.ForTerathalionwasaworldofwordswheredocumentsstoredinathousand

humantongueswerecollated,analysed,annotatedandcatalogued.Alibrary-world,theyhadcalleditlater.Aplacewhereknowledgecoalesced,

allunderthebenignguidanceofdistantmastersonProspero.ForahundredyearsafteritsincorporationintotheImperium,ruby-armouredmagistershadbeenwelcomeandfrequentvisitors,promptedbycuriosityorsentonassignmentbytheirveneratedprimarchinsearchofmyriadfragmentsoflearning.ThosevisitshadslowlydriedupasthedemandsoftheGreatCrusadehaddrawnmoreoftheXVLegionawayfromtheloose-thrownProsperineempireuntil,oneday,theyhadceasedaltogether.Duringthisnewisolation,theworld’stemporalmastersdidnotworryunduly,

nordidtheyseekespecialclarification.Thegalaxyhadbeenmadesafeforstudy,andsoTerathalion’spatientworkcontinuedunabated.TheyknewthattheLegionswouldreturnintime,foritwaswidelyunderstoodthatSpaceMarinesleftnotaskunfinished.Inthat,thetemporalmasterswereofcourseentirelycorrect,excepttheships

thateventuallyemergedfromtheMandevillepointintheImperialyear007.M31andspreadoutthroughthelocalsystemwerenotthesleekandgloriouslydecoratedsystem-runnersoftheXVLegion,butcorpse-grey,vast-hulledleviathans.

Moreover,itwasnomeresquadronthathadarrived,butanentirebattlegroup.AndasthewarshipstookuppositionaboveTerathalion’srisiblymeagreorbitaldefences,eventhemosttrustingoftheplanet’soverseersfeltasenseofunease.Theysentmessagestotheleadbattleship,acolossalGloriana-classmonster

withthetacticalidentEndurance,butnoresponsewasreceived.Orderswerefranticallytransmittedtothedefencegridtomobilise,butbytheneventhatgesturewasmadefartoolate.TheplacidpeopleofTerathalionhadneverwitnessedthefullfirepowerofa

Legionfleetbefore,andsotheycouldhardlybeblamedfornotknowingwhattoexpect.Theywerestilllookingupintotheskieswhenthebombardmentbegan,turningtheskieswhiteasthecloudsboiledaway.Massdriversannihilatedtheouterringofdefencesbeforepinpointlancestrikesdestroyedeverycommand-and-controlnodeacrossthenorthernhemisphere.Arainofincendiariesrippedthroughtheurbancentres,fallingforhouruponhourinanunrelentingbarragethatleftbarelyonestonestandingatopthenext.Sheetsofpromethiumflamesweptthroughwhatlittleremained,scorchingitblack.Thebooksburned.Millennialtomesthathadbeensecuredinvacuum

chamberswererippedapartasthearmourglasscasingsshattered.Archivesbecamewhite-hottunnels,atomisingirreplaceablevolumesinpuffsofburningdust.Whenthebombardmentfinallyrelented,thefewsurvivorscreptslowlyfrom

whateverrefugestheyhadbeenabletofind,theirearsringingandtheireyesstreaming.Foramomentitseemedtothemlikesomeawfulerrorhadbeencommitted,andthattheworstwasover,andthat–satisfiedwiththeapocalypticdestructiontheyhadwrought,forreasonsthatwerestillentirelymysterious–theattackerswouldnowmoveontotheirnexttarget.Butthendirtycontrailsofdroppodssplitthesmoke-barredskies.Allacross

Terathalion’snewlytorturedsurface,clustersofadamantiumteardropscrashedtoearth,disgorgingsquadsofpale-greySpaceMarinesfromtheimpact-rubble.Moreandmorelanded,untilwholebattalionsofwarriorsstalkedthroughtherapidlytoxifyingatmosphere,theirfaceshiddenbehindslope-grilledhelms.Withhorrifyingefficiency,theygroundtheirwayfromoneravagedhab-sectiontothenext.Theyaskednoquestionsandmadenodemands.Asaftershockthunderheads

boiledacrosstherubbledcityscapesandheavilyacidicrainbegantodrumfromstill-hotmetal,thesurvivorsofruinedTerathalionwerehunteddownlikevermin.

InGeryiadha,oncetheworld’sfifthmostpopulouscityandhometosatintreegrovesandfountain-gardens,theconcentrationwasmoreintensethananywhereelse.Inthemainboulevard–nowapittedtrenchofsmokingrockcretedebris–theairitselfshimmeredandbrokeopen,leakingarcsofneon.Dustswirledandwhippedintoserpents,andmasonryblocksrolledclear.Asphereofsilversuddenlyflashedintolife,lacedwithwrithingblackenergies.Asharpsnaprangout,shatteringtheorb’sfragileskinandsendingshardsbouncingawayacrossthedetritus.Atthecentrestoodeightmassivefigures.Sevenofthemstrodeout

immediately,heftinglongscythesinheavygauntlets.Theirthickbattleplatewasgougedandcharred,asthoughtheyhadjustcomefromsomefuriousbattleagainststernerfoesthananythingalibrary-worldmightreliablymuster.Theeighthtoweredovereventhoseleviathans.Hisarchaicarmour,linedwith

rustandmarkedwithwhatlookedlikedeepblade-cuts,steamedwithwarp-frost.Yellowedeyesglintedfrombeneathashroud-whitecowl,setinagauntfaceringedbyrebreathertubesandfeeder-vials.Hisexpressionwashaunted,eventhoughtherewasnothingontheplanetthatcouldpossiblyharmhim,andhisfingerstwitchedashehauledhisowngreatscytheintoposition.Thecrackleofflamesrumbledoninthedistance,punctuatedbythemuffled

crackofbolterfire.Forge-hotwindstoreacrossthedisintegratingurbanvista,fuelledbytheinfernosraginginthehollowhab-spires.TheprimarchMortariondrewinhisfirstrattlingbreathofTerathalion’ssmog-

chokedatmosphere,andswepthisgazeacrosstheboulevard.‘Findit,’herasped.

Seventyyearsearlier,andhalfagalaxyaway,MalcadortheSigillitehadbeenoccupiedwhenthealertcamethrough.TheFirstLordofTerrawasalwaysoccupied,forthecivilaffairsoftheexpandingImperiumweremorethanonemancouldpossiblyhandle.Inasense,ofcourse,hewasfarmorethanoneman.Hewasanaberration,

justasallthepowerfulofthegalaxywereaberrations–arandomfluctuationinthepsychictides,ananomalyamidstthequadrillionsthatmadeuptheburgeoningmassofhumanity.Still,thatdidnotenablehimtoescapefromtheburdenofallempires.

Wheneveroneexecutiveorderwassignedoff,anotherninewouldtakeitsplace.Witheverycompliancecamemoredemandsforiterators,culturalassimilators,remembrancers,terraformers,tradertreaties.Helookeddownatthelonglistof

incomingdiplomaticcommuniqués,andhisancientheartsank.Whenthealertflickeredacrosshisdisplayfeed,then,itwaswelcome.‘Mylord,’camethevoicefromthecomm-beadinhiscollar,theonereserved

forurgenttransmissions.‘Mylord–heishere,andhewillnotbedissuaded.’Malcadorrosefromtheantiquewritingdeskandreachedforhisaquila-

toppedstaff.‘Understood.Iwillbewithyoushortly.’Hewalkedquicklythroughhisprivatechambers,thenoutintothecorridorsof

theImperialPalace.Thecourtiersandpoliticaldelegatesshuffledoutofhisway;eithertheyhadnoideawhohewasandhadnointerestinmeetinghisgaze,ortheyknewexactlywhohewas,inwhichcasetheydidnotdareto.Hepassedthroughtheimage-linedcolonnades,gardenchambersandlibraries,paddingsoftlyonsoft-soledshoes.Graduallytheranksofunaugmentedcourtiersfellaway,tobereplacedbythe

redandgoldoftheMechanicumandtheLegioCustodes.Nonebarredhispassage–downinthesubterraneanlevels,allknewhisnameandwhathissimpleaquilastaffrepresented.Hereachedtheexcavationstratum,andthefunctionarywhohadcalledhim

hurriedover,anapologeticlookonhisface.‘Iamsorry,mylord,’hesaid.‘Thatisallright,Sefel,’Malcadorreplied.‘Whereishe?’‘Intheouterportal.’‘Thenyoushouldhavesummonedmesooner.’Hewentmorequicklythen,ignoringthetoweringvaultsaroundhim,andthe

lowrumbleofthecreationenginesandflashesoflightfromarc-welders.Theairbecamehotter.Soonhewaswalkingacrossbarerock,stillscoredfromthedrillsthathaddelvedintoit,andhadtostepoverthebronze-linedcablesthatlaylikeserpentsacrosshispath.Malcadorfoundhimjustinsidethefirstgate,withthesoundofmacrohammers

ringingthroughthosedarkarches.Hewasstanding,staringupattheunfinishedportal,hisgreyfacelostinthought.Followinghisgaze,Malcadordrewupalongsidehim.Itwasanoctagonal

gateway,threehundredmetresacross,reinforcedwithanadamantiumcollarandringedwiththerunesofOldEarth.ATitancouldhavewalkedthroughthatgate.Perhaps,intime,onewould.‘Whatisitfor?’thewatcherasked.Thequestionfeltpremature.Theportalwouldnotbefinishedfordecadesyet.

Itsimmenseframeopenedupontonothingbutbarerock–itwasadoorto

nowhere,fashionedatenormousexpenseandinconditionsoftheutmostsecrecy.‘Whyareyouhere,Mortarion?’Malcadorasked,asgentlyashecould.‘Whatisitfor?’theprimarchrepeated.MalcadorplacedawitheredhanduponMortarion’sback,makingtousher

himawaybutnotbeingsofoolishastoactuallypush.‘Comewithme.Weshouldtalk.’Theprimarchglareddownathim,histoxin-scarredfeaturesetchedwith

contempt.‘Oneday,oldman,’hesaid,curlinghisgauntletintoafist,‘oneofuswillleaveyougaspinginthedust.Perhapsitwillbeme.’‘Nodoubtyouareright.Now,please,comeawayfromthegate.’‘Why?Isitdangerous?’Malcadordidn’tlookupatit.Heneverlikedtolookatit.‘Notyet,’hesaid.

Lermentadidn’trunimmediately.She’dknownthatitwastheendassoonasshehadseenthefirstaugur-pinpricksconfirmed.Asoneofthehigher-rankingsyndicsofGeryiadha’sadministrativearchivalcadre,shewasprivytothingsthatothersweren’t,althoughonthatdayshefoundthatshecouldn’ttakeanyparticularpleasureinthat.Shehadmadeherwayquicklydownfromthemaincollationspireandjogged

throughtherowsandrowsofbookshelves,allowingherselfamomentarytwingeofsorrowasthetitlespassedbyinthegloom.Bythetimethewarningsirensweresounding,shehadmadeitoutofthecoreandintoopenair.She’dlookedup,asifshemightcatchaglimpseoftheshipsthatsheknewwerefallingintopositionaboveher.Theskyhadbeenapale,puregreen,justasitwaseverymorningduringthetithe-season.LikemostthingsonTerathalion,ithadalwayshadasparsebeautytoit.Nowthatwasallgone,stirredupintofire-edgedstormsthatshedacidrain-

liketears.Everythingstankofcordite,mingledwiththehot-metalaromaofplasma-discharge.Shecrouchedundertheshadowofashatteredmedicaeunit,feelingnumbevenamidsttheburning.Herscholar’ssmockclungtoher,drivenbytheracingfire-wind.She’dseenwholekill-squadsofSpaceMarinesmovingthroughthecityzones,

cuttingdownsurvivorswithchillingexpertise.Theyhadnevermadeasound,saveforthecrunchofbootsonboneandthecoarsebarkoftheiroutsizedbolters.Theydidn’tscareher,butitdrovetheothersmadwithfear.Thosethatcould

stillrunsprintedforthecitylimits,nodoubthopingthatiftheycouldjustgetclearofthedropzonethentheymighthaveachance.Lermentawatchedthemfromherinadequateshelter.Theyweredoingwhat

everyinstincttoldthemtodo,thoughitmadethemterrifyinglyeasytokill.Shecouldonlywatchasmen,womenandchildrenweregunneddownatrange,cutapartupcloseorcrushedbeneaththetreadsoftanksbroughtdownbybulklanders.Terathalionhadbeenhometoapopulationinthebillions,andittookawhileforeventheLegionesAstartestotrackthemalldown.Whenshehadtomove,shekeptherbodylowandhuggedtheremnantsof

whateverbuildingsstillstood.Therockcretewashottothetouch,burningthroughthesolesofherregulationsandals.Shedidn’thaveaplan.Therewaspreciouslittletoplanforwhentheentireplanetwasclearlybeingtornapart,andallthatremainedwasadumb,animalisticsenseofwantingtostayintactforjustalittlebitlonger.Shewentsouth,towardstheoldrivercoursewhereindustrialhoppersforthe

jewel-tradestood.Thoseweremadeofplasteelandadamantium,enoughtowithstandthesmelters,sosomeofthemmightstillbestanding.Assheflittedbetweenhollowwallsections,shefeltherheartthuddinginherchest,tightandrapid.Shewassowrappedupinpickingaroutethatsheheardtheboot-fallstoolate.

Cursingunderherbreath,shedidwhatalltheothersdidandbrokeintoasprint.Shedidnotlookback.Perhapstheyhadn’tseenher,inwhichcaseshemightstillracethroughthe

shadowsandgetaway.Perhapstheyhadn’tseenher.Theabsurdityofthethoughtwasamusing,inspiteofwhatitportended.These

wereSpaceMarines.Theyheardeverything,theysaweverything.Still,sheranon,gaspingintheash-thickair,weavingthroughwhatremainedofanoldmanufactorydepot.Sheveeredhardaroundacorner,skiddingontherain-washedstone.Aheadofher,alongalleystretchedaway,linedwiththeemptycorpsesof

drive-housings.Atthefarend,shesawhimwaiting.Hewasmassive,farbiggerinthefleshthanshehadeverconceivedhemight

be,radiatinganauraofsuchastonishingpsychicauthoritythatitmadeherwanttogaspoutloud.Theelementsthemselvesseemedtosheerawayfromhim,thoughhisscythe’senergisedbladeranwithboilingrainwater.Shewantedto

lookawaybuttheyellowedeyesheldherfast.Hewalkedslowlytowardsher,loomingthroughtwistingpallsofsmog,crackingtheroadsurfaceunderhisheavytread.Foramoment,asshestaredupattheapproachingface,shewasonlystruckby

onethinginparticular.Pain.Theprimarch’sgreyvisagewastwistedintowhatlookedlikea

permanentwince,half-hiddenbehindahissingrebreatherintake.‘Whatdoyouwanthere?’shemanagedtoblurtout,hearingthearrivalof

moreDeathGuardcomingupbehindher.Mortarionshotherawitheringlook,asiftosay,Don’ttrythatwithme.He

grabbedherchinandhelditup,pinchingitbetweentheplatesofhiselaborategauntletandheldhergazeforalittlewhilelonger.Itfeltlikeknivesbeingshovedintoherlungs.Then,mercifully,hereleasedher.Hegesturedtohisentourage,andLermentafelttwohandsgripherbytheshoulders.‘Wehaveit,’Mortarionannounced,thoughnottoher,andinavoicethat

soundedlikeaflailbeingdraggedacrossrustediron.‘Iwillreturntotheship.Youmaydestroywhatremains.’

MalcadortookMortarionbackuptohispersonalchambers,highupontheslopesoverlookingthevastsprawlofthepalace’sgrandhallsandspires.TheSigillitehadspentmorethanamortallifetimemakingitaplaceofbeautyandsanctuary,butMortarionseemedbarelytonoticewhathadbeenplacedthere.Theprimarchsimplystoodonthepolishedmarble,exudingvapours,hisbreathingacoarsescrape.‘Iwouldseemyfathernow.’‘TheEmperorisnotavailable,’Malcadorreplied.‘Whereishe?’‘Idonotknow.’Mortarionsnorted.‘Youknowhiseverymovement.Youknowhisevery

thought.’‘No.Nomanknowsthosethings.’Mortarionstartedpacing,kickingasidepricelesspiecesofantiquefurnitureas

hewent.‘Hecannotkeepmehereformuchlonger.Hetriesmypatience.’‘YourLegionawaitsyou,andthelastpreparationsarebeingmade.Youwill

jointhemsoonenough.’Mortarionturnedonhim,hiseyesflashingwithfrustratedanger.‘Thenwhy

imprisonmehere?Didhedothistoanyofmybrothers?’

Malcadornoticedtheedgeofunreasoninhisguest’sface,andwonderedifitwasgettingworse.Allthegene-progenyoftheGreatProjecthadbeendamagedbythescattering,butMortarion’swoundsrandeeperthanmost.Angronhadbeenphysicallydamaged,andCurze’smindhadsunkenintodarkness,butMortarionseemedtohavebeeninheritedsomethingofbothafflictions.TheEmperor’sdesiretokeephimawhileonTerrapriortojoiningtheCrusadehadbeenmotivatedfromthehighestintentions,justasallthedecisionstheyhadjointlymadehadbeen.Thatdidnotmeanthatitwastherightdecision,northatthepoisonscouldallbeextracted…‘Youwereallgivendifferentgifts,’explainedMalcadorpatiently.‘Youhaveall

haddifferenttrials.’‘NonehadmorethanI,’mutteredMortarion.‘Iknowyoubelievethat.’Mortarionturnedbacktotheview,wrinklinghisgreyskinagainsttheglare.

‘YouhavedonenothingbutpreachatmesinceIwasbroughthere.YoutalkoftheImperialTruth,andyetyouareneck-deepinwitchery.’Hegrimacedbeneathhisrebreather,makingtheskinaroundhistempleswrinkle.‘Icansmellitonyou.AssoonasIleaveyourpresence,youwillbebackatyourspellbook.’Malcadorsuppressedasigh.Thisagain.‘Therearenospells,Mortarion.Youknowthat.’‘Whatisthegateyouarebuildingdownthere?’‘Ididnotsayitwasagate.’‘Ithaseightsides.Itissurroundedbynumerologicalsymbols.Icouldsmell

theincense.’‘Yourfatherhasmanyprojects.’Theprimarchnodded.‘Hedoes.Hestartsmanythings,anddiscardsthem

whentheynolongerkeepHisinterest.TherearetimeswhenIthinkHemayhavestartedtoomany,andthattheywillcomebacktohauntHim.’‘Thereisapurpose,’Malcadorreplied.‘Adesign.SomethingsHeisableto

explainnow,andsomeHewillexplainlater.Allweask–allwehaveeverasked–isforalittletrust.’WhenMortarionmadehismove,itwassurprisinglyquick.Hewhirled,hisgauntletflashingout,catchingthefraillordbytheneckand

grippingtight.Malcadorstruggledforbreath,lookingupintothemaskofsuddenhatrednowloomingoverhim.TheprimarchstillborethestenchofBarbarusuponhisarmour.‘Trust?’Mortarionhissed.‘Iseeyourfoulnessbeforeme,asplainasthesun.

Youareasorcerer,oldman,andthestinkofitmakesmewishtovomit.’Foronce,Malcadorstruggledfortherightwords.Hecouldhaveusedhisart

todefendhimself,butthatwouldonlyenragetheprimarchfurther.Therewassomuchsubtletyatstake–thenatureofthepsyker,theproperuseofthehumanmind–butsuchargumentswerehardtoformulatewithagene-forgedfistaroundone’sthroat.ThenMortarionletgoassuddenlyashehadgraspedhimandsnorted

contemptuouslyasMalcadoronlybarelyfoundhisfeet.‘Youmustthinkmestupid,’hesnarled.‘ApeasantofBarbarus,notfittowalk

thesamepathsasmyillustriousbrothers.ButIseethroughyou,oldman.Iseewhatyouare,andItellyouthis–IwillneverserveinyourCrusadewhiletherearewitchesamongus.’Mortarion’stoxin-spoiledvoiceshookwithfervour,butMalcadorcomposed

himself.Atonetimeoranother,alloftheprimarchshadexertedtheirstrengthinhispresence.Theyseemedtoenjoydemonstratingtheirphysicalprowessoverhim,asifperpetuallyresentfulofhisprivilegedplaceattheirfather’sside.Hehadgottenusedtolettingtheslightspass.‘Doyou…reallymean…that?’Malcadormanagedtoask,andMortarion’s

glowerwasalltheconfirmationheneeded.‘Verywell.Ihadhopedtoshowyouthislater…whenmatterswereatagreaterstageofreadiness…butperhapsnowwillserve.’Hebrusheddownhisrobes,tryingnottoshowjusthowmuchMortarion’s

chokinggriphadpainedhim,andgesturedtowardsapairofmahoganydoorsthatledtoachambernormallyoff-limitstoallbuthimselfandtheEmperor.‘Afteryou.Ithinkyouwillfindthis…interesting.’

Theprimarch’schamberaboardtheEndurancewasclutteredandclaustrophobic.Lermentalethereyesrunacrossit,takinginthepilesofoldequipmentscatteredacrosstheblackpressed-metalfloor.Perhapsonceithadbeenafinelyappointedspace,deckedwithfineitemsmoreinkeepingwithaprivateretreatofanEmperor’sson,thoughnowitlookedmorelikethedomainofamindteeteringontheedgeofinsanity.Rollsofcrumpledparchmentspilledacrosscollectionsofephemerafromathousandworlds–stuffedxenosheads,astrolabes,divinationboardsmadeofrosewoodandiron,leather-boundmanualsonnumerology,orknapped-flintknivesofallsizestiedwithlengthsoftwine.Thefloorhadbeenetchedwithconcentriccircles,eachmarkedwitha

differentrune.Ironlozenges,alsomarkedwithsigils,hungonchainsfromthe

archedceiling,twistinggentlyunderthedimlightofflickeringtorches.Theairwascloseandashotasblood.Lermentawasshackledtightlybyherwrists,neckandankles,boundtoaniron

framethatstoodatthefarendoftheramshacklechamber,facingintowardsthecircles.ShehadtotwistherheadtocatchaglimpseofMortarion.Aneye-shaped

viewportalstoodovertoherleft,takingupnearlytheentireheightoftheoutward-facingchamberwall.Terathalioncouldbeseenthroughthearmourglass,stillglowingbrightlyinthevoidandbetrayinglittleofitsongoingpain.Mortarionstoodbeforetheportal,breathingdeeply,watchingtheplanetdie.Everysooftenhewouldtwitch,orhisgauntletswouldclench,orhisrebreatherwouldemitafaintchokeofexpelledair.Hehadbeenstandingthereforoveranhour.SincetheLegionmenialshadpinnedhertotheframeandleftthetwoofthemaloneinthechamber,hehadsaidnothing.‘So,youdidthatalljusttofindme?’askedLermenta,growingtiredofthe

enforcedsilence.Mortarionturneduponherslowly.Hiseverymovementwasdeliberate,as

thoughweigheddownbyaterribleweariness.Upclose,Lermentacouldseebarely-healedwoundsbeneaththeshadowofhiscowl.Whatcouldwoundhim?Whatcouldevenscratchhim?‘Notallofit,’heraspedthroatily,hisrebreatherclickingasitfilteredhis

words.‘Itisgoodtodestroyaworld.Itpurifiesthesoul.’Lermentaraisedaneyebrow.Theprimarch’svoicesoundedstrangelyfebrile.Helimpedpasther,comingtorestattheepicentreoftherune-circles.He

foldedhisarmsandregardedher.‘Foralongtime,’hesaid,‘Ibelievedwhatmynewfathertoldme.Itoldmyselfthatyouwereamyth.’‘Well,youcanseethat’snottrue.’‘Iseeamortalwoman.’Mortarionsaid.‘Icouldsnapyourneckwithmy

fingertips.’‘Suchacharmer.’Mortarionadvancedtowardsher,historturedfacelookingoddlydistracted.He

staredatherlikeamanmightstareatanewlydiscoveredtumour.‘Howlongwereyoudowntherewiththem?’‘Twenty-fiveyears,’shereplied.‘Andthemortalyouconsumed?’‘Iforget.Ican’taskheranymore–shequicklylosthermind.’‘Whywereyousent?’

‘Iwasnotsent,’Lermentasnapped.‘Ichoseit.Therewerepricelessthingsdownthereandnowyouhavedestroyedthemall.YourbrotherMagnuswillbeangry,whenhereturns.’‘Donotspeaktomeofmybrothers.Anyofthem.’Mortarionwasstudyingherintently.Closeup,Lermentacouldsmellthe

chemicaltangofhisarmour-systems,theripeedgetohisextrudedbreath.Shecouldseetheminusculedartsofhispupils,andthefainthiddenspasmsaroundhismouth.‘Youarefoultome,’hepronouncedatlast.Lermentabowedasmuchasherbondswouldlether.‘Yetyouarenothingless

thanastonishingtome.Iamfullofadmiration.Truthfully,Ididnotexpecttoendurelongenoughtoseeyouatsuch…quarters.’Theflatterymadenoimpact–Mortarion’spsychewassoinuredtodisdain

thathecouldnolongerseeanythingotherthanveiledcontempt.Lermentacouldalmosthearthatparanoiaechoinginhismind,pursuinghim,draggingathismighty,woundedsoul.‘Mybrothersarealreadyusingyourkind,’Mortariontoldher.‘Theytellme

Lorgarwillinglyinfectshiswarriors.AndthereisFulgrim.’Mortarionshuddered.‘Iwonderatit.Thehypocrisy.’‘Youshouldnot.Theyhaveseentheorderofnatureandacceptedit.’Mortarionsmiledjoylesslybehindtherebreather.Heturned,gesturingtothe

collectionofesotericainhischambers.‘Thesearewards,’hesaid.‘Protectionsagainstthedark.Sorceryisacancer.Wemustguardagainstit.Pushitback.’Heshuffledovertooneofthescrollsandidlytracedafingeroverthetext.‘TheancientTerransbelievedinonegod.Infinite.Omnipotent.Thatgavethemaconundrum–howtodescribeperfection?Whatwordscouldpossiblysuffice?’Mortarioncrumpledtheparchmentinhisfist.Hisfingerswerealmost

trembling.‘Alltheyallowedthemselveswasthevianegativa–tospeakofwhattheirgod

wasnotlike.Andwhentheyhadexhaustedallthethingsthatwerenottrue,whatremainedintheblindspotwashisnature.’Helookedbackather,andtheevidentloathingreturned.‘Isurroundmyselfwithallthatisnotthewarp,foritishatefultome.Whateverremainsiscorruption.Iseekitout.Idestroyit.’‘Andyet,’saidLermenta,‘ofallthatworld’ssouls,youchosetopreserveme.’Mortarion’srighteyelidtwitched.‘Fornow.’‘Why?’Hedrewcloseagain,anditwasallLermentacoulddonottoshrinkbackin

herbonds.‘Iamsurroundedbythedamned,’hesaid.‘Jaghataiwasright–Iamonmyownwiththem.Theaetherstainseverything.ButIwillunderstandit.AndIwillovercomeit.’‘Oh,forpity.Nothingcanovercomeit.’Theprimarchloomedoverher,andhisshadowedfaceboiledwithanold,old

resentment.‘Allthingscanbeovercome,’hehissed.‘Yourfinaltask,daemon,istoshowmehow.’

MalcadorusheredMortarionintoanarrowchamber.Theonlyfurniturewasalong,lowtabledrapedinblacksilk.Whenthedoorswereclosedbehindthem,theroomsankintoavelvetydarkness.Malcadorgesturedwithhisindexfingerandahololithemergedoverthetable,

tinypointsoflightglintinglikediamondsintheair.Itwasatri-mapofthegalacticsector.‘Ittookusalongtimetofindasuitablelocation,’Malcadorsaid,asthe

displaygraduallyzoomedin.‘Averylongtime.’HewatchedasMortarion’sshrewd,suspiciouseyestookineverydetail–the

inboundshiptrajectorymarkersandthemanifestlogsthatflickeredinscrollinglists.‘ThentherewerethenegotiationswithMars.Ithoughtthey’dbepleasedto

help,buttherearealwaysdifficultiestounravel.Butthework,Iamhappytosay,isnowadvanced.’Thehololithcontinuedtocycleincloser.Aplanetswamintofocus,itssurface

wrackedbytectonicfaultlines.‘Whereisthisplace?’askedMortarion.‘Youtellmeyouwillrefusetoserveifpsychicpotentialremainsinthe

Legions,’saidMalcador,watchingtheviewcontinuetoexpand.‘Ibelieveyou.IthasbeenattheforefrontoftheEmperor’smindformanygenerations.Therearecomplexitiestoovercome,butmuchofHislabourhasbeenexpendedonthatveryquestion.Thisisapartofit.’Mortariongazedattheplanetscapebeforethem.Therewererainyimagesof

vastMechanicumvoid-engineshanginginloworbit,andterraformingcrawlersbeinglifteddownthroughavolatileatmosphere.Otherprojectionsshimmeredintolife–ahugecomplex,risingoutofadesolatelandscapeofvolcanicash,radiatingoutfromamassivecentralarena.‘Imagineit,’saidMalcador.‘Ifawaycouldbefoundtoremovethewarpfrom

thearteriesoftheImperium.Ifthearmiesofhumanitycouldtravelwithoutuse

oftheNavigatorgene.IfthepsykerscouldbewithdrawnfromtheLegions,steadilyandwithcaution.Wehavealreadybeguntoprepareforthisday.Itwillnotbeeasy,fortherearepowerfulforcesrangedagainstus,bothwithinandwithout.’Malcadorarrestedthezoom,hoveringoverthehalf-builtarena.Itwasacolossalspace,apalaceinitsownright,carvedoutofthevolcanicwoundofanotherworld.‘ThisisNikaea,Mortarion.Itisaworldwithadestiny,andyouwillhavea

parttoplaythere.’Mortarionappearedtobecaughtbetweenemotions–theperennialdistrust,

leavenedbyanundoubtedcuriosity.‘Whatareyoutellingme?’heasked,grudgingly.‘Thatyouarevalued,Mortarion.Youwillbemighty,asstrongasthebonesof

theearth,andapillarofyourFather’svision.’Malcadordaredreachouttohim,torestahandontheprimarch’scolossalwrist.‘Remaintruetous,andHewillgiveyouthis.Youwillspeakthere,tomakeyourcasebeforetheeyesoftheentireImperium,tounburdenyourselfofthethingsthatyounowcarryunaided.Fornow,wemustperforcebuildanempirewithforbiddentools.Butadaywillcomewhenallthesethingsarenolongernecessary.’Mortarion’seyesremainedfixeduponthearena.Itwasasifhewerealready

imagininghimselfstandingthere.Foralongtime,hesaidnothing.Then,slowly,hisdemeanourchanged.‘Tellmemore,’hesaid.

‘Youareafool,’saidLermenta,interestedtoseehowfarshecouldpushtheprimarch.Sheguessedthatitwouldnotbeveryfar–hewasalreadyteeteringontheprecipice.ShehadheardofwhathadbeendonetohimonBarbarus,anddidnotwonderatthemonsterthathadbeenproduced.Insomeways,itwasamiraclethathestillhadanysanityleftatall.‘Ihavelearnedmanythings,’wheezedMortarion,gesturingtothearcane

objectsstrewnacrossthefloor.‘Yourkindcanbewardedagainst.Youcanbebound.Youcanbeused,likeblades,andthensentbacktothehellsthatspawnedyou.’Lermentafeltlikelaughinginhisface.Shehadheardthesamescreedsfroma

thousandothermortalsovertheaeons,eachoneconvincedthathealonehadfoundawaytonegotiatewiththegodsfornopriceatall.‘Letmetellyouoftheempyrean,’shesaid.‘Therearemanygreatforcesin

theaether,andoneofthemhasyournameetchedoverhisrustingthrone.Heis

waiting,thoughnotforverymuchlonger.Itmattersnothowmanytrinketsyourattleorwave–hewillnotbedenied.Hehasclaimedyou.’‘Nonehaveclaimedme!’snarledMortarion.‘EvenmyFathercouldnotclaim

me!Me,whowasguiltyofpatricidelongbeforetheseedsoftreacheryweresownintheWarmaster’sheart.Ihaveseenthemalloff–thetyrants,thewitches,thexenosfilth.OnlyIremain–pureofitall,freeofcorruption.’‘Youdonotlookpuretome.’Theprimarchglowered.‘Icancompelyou,daemon.Iknowthewords,the

numericalconstantsthatbindyou,draggingyoufromoneformtoanother.Ihavestudiedthesethings.Itisnotwitchery,butscientificreason.’Lermentafeltrealcontemptthen.Thedamagedfigurebeforeherhadnotrue

knowledge,justfalsehopesandgleanings.Herownmaster’sfavourite,Magnus–ah,nowtherewasonewhoreallyunderstoodthemysteriesoftheempyrean,andevenhehadbeendeceived.‘Youwishtoknowthetruth?’sheasked.Mortarioncamecloser.‘Iwillknowthetruth,’hehissed.‘Icanshowittoyou.’‘Idestroyedaworldtofindyou.Givemetheknowledge.’Lermentasmiledsweetly.‘Verywell.’Exertingherpowerwastriviallyeasy.Mostofthewardsandcantrips

Mortarionhadassembledtokeepherinplacewereembarrassinglyweak,andonlyonethinginthechamberhadthepowertoreallyhurther.‘Thisisthetruth.’Herbondsshattered.Herhumanshellpeeledaway,sloughingfromherlikea

bloodycloakandrevealingaglossy,insectoidtrue-form.Shelaunchedherselfattheprimarch,herjawsgapingobscenelywide,herclawsraking.Shetookhimbysurprise.Itwasheronlyadvantageandshepressedit,

gougingathisgrease-streakedarmourandtryingtognawatthefleshwithin.Hehammeredaheavyfistdown,tryingtotakeherheadoff,butsheevaded

himwithease.Shepunchedaclawintohismidriff,bitingdeep,elicitingaroarofpain.Bythegods,shewasenjoyingthis.Hisphysicalstrengthwasenormous,butthatwouldnothelphim,forshewas

acreatureofanti-physics,shackledonlybylawsthathefearedtoinvoke.Shewoundedhimagain,goadinghimlikesomehugetaurodon,drivinghisangerdeepertowardsmania.‘Banish!’heroaredasshelaughedathim.‘Goback!’

Hisfistswereflailingnow,tryingtolatchontoher,todragherdown.Sheslippedthroughhisfingerslikeaneel,bloodlettingasshewent,addingfreshlyscoredlinestohisalreadybatteredwar-plate.Thetwoofthemrockedbacktowardsthecircle,andshefeltthepowerofthewardsoverlapintheair,tearingatherfleshevenassherippedthroughthem.‘Doit!’shetaunted,slappinghimacrosstheface.‘Dowhatyoucametodo!’Heresisted,tryingtotearherapartwithhishands,stillrelyingonthe

immeasurablestrengthinhispost-humanmusculature.Lermentaspatathim,andtheacidicspittlecloggedinhiseye.Thatdidit.‘Barbaroí!’heroared,andtherunesetchedaroundthechamberflaredintolife.

Ahotwindsuddenlyhowledfromthecentreofthecircles,snatchingatherrevealedtrueformandharrowingit.‘Gharáz!Baghammon’echzhaza!’Shecouldn’thelpbutscream,thoughthepainwasmingledwithacold

satisfactionatwhatshehadprovoked.Mortarionkeptupthechant,andnowhisfist-strikes,spirallingwithwarp-

lightning,causedrealdamage.Hesmashedherbackagainsttheironframethathadheldher,andtheblowsdroveintohercarapacedstomach.‘Soitcomesforyouatlast,’shehissedthroughbloodiedfangs,grinning.

‘Youcouldnotresist.’Thegloriousstinkoflearnedsorceryandhedge-magickwasnowpungentand

inescapable.Itwaswithinhim,andhewasusingit,inspiteofeveryprotestation.‘Nevermockme,’Mortariongrowled,sprayingspittlefromtheventsofhis

rebreather.‘Heijammeka!Nevergoadme!’Lermentasaggedbackagainstthewall,feelinghersoulpulledbackintothe

empyrean.Theprimarchwascrunchinghertopiecesnow,hammeringfuriouslywithhisfists,pouringoutallofhisfuryontoherbrokenphysicalshell.Itwashardnottobeawedbyit–shewasthefirsttoseeafragmentofwhathewouldeventuallybecome.Here,abovetheburningremainsofTerathalion,wasthefutureoftheDeath

Lordbeingborn.Andsoasshedied,andherquintessentialmattersuckeditselfbackintothe

mawoftheaether,shemanagedamocksalute.‘Hail,MasterofthePlague!’shecriedthroughtheruinofherjaws.‘Bythegods,youlearnfast.’Thenthemortaluniverserippedaway,andthewarpcamerushingoverher

likeatide.

MortarionstoodoverLermenta’scrushedform,breathingheavily.Hecouldsmelltheichoruponhisgauntlets.Itwasn’tblood,howeveritstainedjustasrichly.Hisheartswerebeatingasone,thoughthecombathadsickenedhim.He

wantedtovomit,toexpelthecurdlingsicknessthathungheavilyinhisstomach.Butherewassomethingelsethere,too.HerememberedMalcador’spromises;

thesmoothwordsspoken,soitseemed,anageago.Adaywillcomewhenallthesethingsarenolongernecessary.TheSigillitehadbeenwrongaboutthat,eitherlyingormistaken.Thatday

wouldnevercomenow,andtherewasnopointpretendingotherwise.Perhapsalltheoldcertaintieswouldhavetobeoverturnednow,eventheoldest,forgedinthegas-cloudsofthefoundlingworldhehadbothlovedandhated.Heremembered,too,thewordsthathehadspoken.IwillneverserveinyourCrusadewhiletherearewitchesamongus.Fortoolong,hehadbeenusedbyallsides–Nikaeahadbeenandgone,and

thepromisesmadeforithadallbeenhollow.Thevoidnowseethedwithwitchery,morevirulentthanever,andhecouldfeelitstendrilsgraspingforhim.Helookeddownattheetchedfloor,atthewardsandthesymbolsandthe

runes.Hewouldhavetolearnmore.Hewouldhavetomasterallthepathsofruin.Hewould,asperhapshehadknownforalongtimenow,havetobecometheverythingthathehadalwayshated.‘Sobeit,’hegrowled,retreatingbacktothecentreofthearcanecircle.‘It

startshere.’

ABOUTTHEAUTHOR

ChrisWraightistheauthoroftheHorusHeresynovelScars,thenovellaBrotherhoodoftheStormandtheaudiodramaTheSigillite.ForWarhammer40,000hehaswrittentheSpaceWolvesnovelsBloodofAsaheimandStormcaller,andtheshortstorycollectionWolvesofFenris,aswellastheSpaceMarineBattlesnovelsWrathofIronandBattleoftheFang.Additionally,hehasmanyWarhammernovelstohisname,includingtheTimeofLegendsnovelMasterofDragons,whichformspartoftheWarofVengeanceseries.Chrislivesand

worksnearBristol,insouth-westEngland.

SenttowipeoutthelastsurvivorsofadownedImperialFistsvessel,DeathGuardChaplainMurnauunleashesoneofhisLegion’smost

deadlyweapons–theDestroyers.

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