‘I don’t get it,’ said Brostin, on the ladder behind Rawne. ‘Why’d they do that? They ’ad us dead.’
Rawne shook his head.
‘The only reason you’d call a withdrawal is if you’re losing,’ he said. He paused. ‘Or you’ve already won and got what you wanted.’
‘Colonel! Colonel Rawne!’
Rawne, Brostin and Zhukova looked up. Above them, Major Pasha was peering down through the deck hatch.
‘What is it, Pasha?’ Rawne asked.
‘You must come,’ she said.
Rawne hauled himself back up the ladder onto the deck.
‘What?’ he asked.
‘There’s a great mass of corpses down in the hold space here, colonel,’ Pasha said, pointing to the rim of a rusty catch-tank nearby. ‘Caober and Vivvo have climbed down to search, but most are too burned and disfigured to–’
‘Stop. Why did they go down?’
‘Because I found this on the deck,’ she said.
She held out a bloody object for him to see. It was a Tanith warknife, the blade broken.
Mkoll’s.
‘There is an old rank,’ said Macaroth. ‘From back in the days of the first crusade. Saint Sabbat’s crusade…’
‘My lord?’ asked Bulledin.
Macaroth shook his head and raised his hands dismissively.
‘Never mind,’ he said. ‘Take your seats. I was just musing to myself. I have spent a long time alone with history books. A long time musing over the details of the old wars, of Urdesh, of the Sabbat Worlds. I find myself thinking out loud.’
The lords militant took their places around the table in the Collegia Bellum Urdeshi. There were more than thirty of them present, and additional seats had been placed along the straight side of the vast wooden semicircle. Chairs scraped across the polished black floor with its golden inscriptions. Thousands of candles and lumen globes had been set to light the chamber, and the warding cyberskulls floated and murmured overhead.
‘Yes,’ said Macaroth, sorting through the reports and files placed in front of him, ‘a long time alone with history books. Too long, I’m sure you will agree, Cybon?’
Cybon coughed awkwardly.
‘Let’s review,’ Macaroth said. ‘Together, as a group, as staff. Further evidence, I hope, that I am eager to refocus my manner of command.’
‘My lord–’ Lugo began.
‘Don’t fawn, Lugo,’ said Macaroth testily. ‘Now, would anyone care to explain what occurred in the last two hours?’
‘The Archenemy has withdrawn into the Zarakppan basin,’ said Kelso. ‘And also has fallen back from the southern edge of Eltath. Mass withdrawal. Immediate and focused. They are outside the bounds of the city. They are present and more than ready to resume assault. But they gave up ground.’
‘More than that,’ said Urienz. His face was still speckled with petrochemical dirt from the journey back to Eltath. ‘They gave up significant advantage. They had us by the throat, and they let go.’
‘I said explain not describe,’ said Macaroth. ‘The enemy let us go. Sek let us go. Another few hours, and they would have been into the southern hem of the city, and the east. We would have fallen to them… or at least been caught in a fight so disadvantageous it would have cost us bitterly just to survive.’
‘I believe we would have had to call in the fleet,’ said Grizmund. ‘I appreciate that’s a sanction we wish to avoid, but it would have been necessary. We would have had to begin sacrificing the forge world’s assets to purge the enemy.’
Macaroth nodded.
‘We would, I fear,’ he agreed. ‘But something changed. Something turned the enemy back, despite his gains and advantage. With respect to the valiant Guardsmen fighting this action in all zones, it wasn’t us. Not our doing. We didn’t win. We survived because they allowed us to live. Chief tactical officer?’
Biota stepped up to the table. He was one of a number of senior tacticians waiting in the candlelit shadows beside them.
‘My lord?’
‘Does tactical have any wisdom?’ asked Macaroth. ‘Any data at all to explain the change of heart? Did we do something we’re not aware of? Did we, for example, take down a significant senior commander and cause–’
‘My lord, there is no evidence of anything,’ said Biota. He cleared his throat. ‘Except that… it is postulated by a number of parties that the enemy had… achieved his goal. Whatever Sek wanted, he got.’
‘For now,’ said Cybon. ‘They’re still out there.’
‘If Sek got what he wanted,’ said Macaroth, ‘we have no idea what it was. I’ve read the reports concerning the trophies Gaunt recovered from Salvation’s Reach. The so-called “eagle stones”. Intelligence and the ordos believed those were his primary objectives, yet they remain in our custody. The enemy never even got close to the site where they are secured.’
Macaroth looked at his staff.
‘I want answers, my lords. I appreciate our stay of execution, but it troubles me deeply. I want answers. I want to understand this, because if there’s one thing I hate it’s an absence of fact.’
A Tempestus Scion entered the chamber and handed a message slate to the warmaster.
‘Hmm,’ said Macaroth, reading. ‘A link has finally been established with our beloved Beati in Ghereppan. Perhaps she and her lords can furnish us with some information.’
He looked at the Scion. ‘I’ll be there directly,’ he said. The Scion hurried out, and Macaroth rose to his feet. The lords militant began to rise too.
‘No, as you were,’ he said. ‘I want you thinking. I want ideas. I want theories. We need something. The fight for this world isn’t over.’
He started to walk out, then paused and turned back.
‘There is an old rank,’ he said, thoughtfully. ‘Back in the day. The warmaster or his equivalent was aided by a first lord. An executor who formed a link between the supreme commander and the command staff. Sabbat herself had one. Kiodrus, you know? Now Saint Kiodrus. History tells us this. Books, Cybon. I fancy I will reinstate this role. It will help mend and facilitate my connection with you great lords. I am not good with people. I don’t like them. I feel I shall let someone do that job for me. Someone to keep you informed and keep you in line on my behalf. Keep me in line too, no doubt. He will be defacto leader, and my chosen successor should the fates take me. Warmaster elect.’
He looked at Cybon.
‘When will you announce this post, my lord?’ asked Cybon.
‘Now,’ Macaroth replied. ‘And you know who it is, because you chose him yourselves. He’s the ideal candidate, for no better reason than he doesn’t want to do it. Ambition can be such an encumbrance.’
He looked at Gaunt.
‘First Lord Executor Gaunt,’ he said. ‘Kindly proceed with this meeting while I am gone. I want answers, remember?’
He strode away. The thousands of candle flames shivered in his wake.
Gaunt sat back. He looked up and down the table at the faces staring at him. Bulledin, Urienz, Kelso, Tzara, Blackwood, Lugo, Grizmund, Cybon, Van Voytz…
He cleared his throat.
‘Let’s begin, shall we?’ he said.
About the Author
Dan Abnett is the author of the Horus Heresy novels The Unremembered Empire, Know No Fear and Prospero Burns, the last two of which were both New York Times bestsellers. He has written almost fifty novels, including the acclaimed Gaunt’s Ghosts series, and the Eisenhorn and Ravenor trilogies, and I am Slaughter, the first book in The Beast Arises series. He scripted Macragge’s Honour