'Stable gene-seed?' breathed Toramino, unable to keep the hunger from his voice.
'Aye,' agreed Honsou. 'Biologically stable and without mutation. And all of it for the Despoiler. You know that, Toramino.'
Lord Berossus laughed, a grainy wash of feedback-laced static, his massive armoured body leaning down as he said, 'Do not think us fools, half-breed. We know you kept some for yourself. You would be foolish not to have.'
'And if I did, what business is it of yours, Berossus?' snarled Honsou.
'Whelp!' roared the dreadnought, taking a crashing step forward as the clawed servo-arms on his back snapped to life. 'You dare speak in such tones to your betters!'
Before Honsou could reply, Toramino said, 'Though he speaks bluntly, Lord Berossus also speaks true. I know you kept some gene-seed for yourself. So listen well, half-breed: your former master was a sworn ally of Berossus and myself, and we expect you, as his successor, to honour these oaths and share the spoils of victory.'
Honsou said nothing for long seconds then laughed in their faces. Toramino felt his hatred for this insolent half-breed burn hotter than ever.
'Share?' said Honsou, turning and receiving a long, broad-bladed axe from an Iron Warrior behind him and nodding to another, who bent to lift a heavy iron cryo-chest from behind the throne as scores of warriors from Honsou's grand company marched into the hall from behind them.
The Iron Warrior with the cryo-chest held it out before Toramino as Honsou said, 'In that cryo-chest is all that I am willing to share. It is my only offer so I advise you to take it and leave.'
Toramino's eyes narrowed as he reached a battered gauntlet out to lift the lid, wisps of condensing air ghosting from within the chest. His every instinct told him that this was a trap, but he could not show weakness before the half-breed.
He opened the container and stiffened as he saw that it was empty.
'Is this some pathetic attempt at a jest, half-breed?' hissed Toramino. 'You turn your back on your master's oaths?'
Honsou took a step towards Toramino and spat on the warsmith's gleaming breastplate. 'I spit on those oaths as I spit on you,' he said. 'You and your idiot monster. And no, it is no jest. Understand this, Toramino, you will get nothing from me. None of you will. What I took from the Imperials on Hydra Cordatus I fought and bled for, and neither you or any one else, is going to take from me.'
Toramino seethed with anger, but bit it back. The muscles of his neck bunched, and it was all he could do to quell the rage boiling within him. He snarled an oath and nodded to Berossus, who roared and slammed his mighty siege hammer down upon the Iron Warrior carrying the cryo-chest, obliterating him in an explosion of flesh and armour. A blazing corona of electrical discharge flared around the cratered floor and gory matter drooled from the crackling hammer.
Incredulous that this vile half-breed had the nerve to behave in this manner before one such as he, Toramino bellowed, 'You dare insult me like this?'
'I do, and you are no longer welcome in my halls. I give you leave to depart as befits warsmiths of your station, but you will never set foot within this fortress again while I draw breath.'
'To defy me means death,' promised Toramino. 'My armies will tear this place down stone by stone, girder by girder, and I will feed you to the Unfleshed.'
'We shall see,' said Honsou, gripping his axe tightly. 'Send your armies here, Toramino, they will find only death before my walls.'
Without deigning to reply, Lord Toramino spun on his heel and marched from the chamber, his retinue and Lord Berossus following close behind.
If the half-breed wanted war, then Toramino would give him war.
A war that would stir the mighty Perturabo himself from his bitter reveries.
PART ONE
DEATH OATH
CHAPTER ONE
Uriel kept his breathing smooth as he stepped through the last moves of his attack routine, every action in perfect balance and focus, his body and mind acting in absolute synchronicity. Slowly and deliberately, he performed the strikes, first his elbow then his fist striking an imaginary foe, keeping his movements precise. He kept his eyes closed, his stance light and balanced, with all parts of his body starting and ending their movements at the same time.
Completing his steps, Uriel took an intake of breath as his fists crossed before him, then exhaled, maintaining his concentration as he returned his arms smoothly to his sides, centring his power within himself.
He could feel the potentiality of the lethal force in his limbs, sensing the strength grow within him and feeling a calmness he had not felt in many weeks enfold him as he completed the last of the prescribed movements.
'Ready?' asked Pasanius.
Uriel nodded and shook his limbs loose as he dropped into a fighting crouch, fists raised before him. His former sergeant was much larger than him, hugely muscled and wearing a sparring chiton of blue cotton that left his legs and arms bare. Even though it had been nearly two years since Pasanius had lost his arm fighting beneath the world against an ancient star-god, Uriel still found his eyes drawn to the gleaming, silver-smooth augmetic arm that replaced his lost limb.
Pasanius wore his blond hair tight into his skull and though his face was capable of great warmth and humour, it was set in a deathly serious expression as they prepared to fight. Pasanius launched a slashing right cross towards his head and Uriel swayed aside to avoid the blow. He deflected Pasanius's follow-up punch and spun inside his guard, hammering his elbow towards his opponent's throat. But the big man pivoted smoothly away and deflected Uriel's strike, pulling him off balance.
Uriel ducked beneath a scything punch and leapt backwards in time to dodge a thunderous kick to his groin. Despite his speed, the heel of Pasanius's foot still hammered into his side, and he grunted in pain as the breath was driven from him.
Uriel dodged away from the next blow, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet as his opponent came at him again, blocking and countering everything Pasanius threw at him. The big man was faster than he looked and Uriel knew he could not avoid being hit forever. And when Pasanius landed a clean blow, very few got back up.
He threw murderous punches towards Pasanius, pivoting his hips and shoulders to get his full weight behind his blows, while ducking in to deliver rapid-fire punches to his opponent's ribs. Pasanius stepped back, untroubled by such strikes, and Uriel swiftly followed him, throwing a hooking punch at his head. It was a risky gambit and easily blocked, but instead of Pasanius's gleaming forearm coming up to block the blow, Uriel's fist smashed home against his right temple.
Pasanius stumbled and dropped to one knee, bright blood weeping from where the skin had split above his right eye. Uriel stepped away from Pasanius, dropping his fists and easing his breathing as he stared in puzzlement at the gash on his former sergeant's forehead.
'Are you all right?' asked Uriel. 'What happened? You could easily have blocked that.'
'You just caught me by surprise,' said Pasanius, wiping away the already clotted blood with his fleshy hand. 'I expected you to go for the legs again.'
Uriel replayed the last few seconds of their bout again in his mind, seeing again his and Pasanius's positions and movements as they sparred.
'The legs? I wasn't in a strong position to attack your legs,' said Uriel. 'If I wanted to attack from that position, I had to go for the head.'