‘There are three of them,’ whispered Hriak, his hand firmly gripping the human’s shoulder.
‘You aren’t seriously considering going out there?’ asked Grammaticus.
Numeon ignored him. He caught the slight movement again. Whoever they were, they were using the haulers to get close.
‘They’re after the human,’ he said. ‘Capture, not kill, this time.’
‘How can you be sure?’ asked Leodrakk.
‘The frontal assault was to flush us out. They knew we’d try and bolt with the human. Because if they havebeen watching us, it’s likely they saw what we saw.’
Hriak looked down at Grammaticus. ‘Your apotheosis…’
‘No explanation was needed,’ Grammaticus replied snidely. ‘It doesn’t matter what I say, does it? You’re going to carry on blindly like this, regardless of consequence, aren’t you? You’ve lost your faith in everything.’
Leodrakk snarled. ‘We’ve lost much more than that.’
‘Be calm,’ Numeon told him, giving Grammaticus a quick glance to shut him up before going on. ‘We’re wasting time. Get himout of here. We can draw these three off.’
He looked at Avus crouching next to him, the foils of his jump pack folded back for now. The legionary had kept his own counsel until that moment.
‘I’ll have weregeld for Shaka, measured in blood. And when my corvidae hangs in memory of the sacrifice I made, and I become part of the raven’s feast, only then shall I know peace,’ he vowed. ‘ Victorus aut Mortis.’
Hriak bowed his head in solemn respect. ‘ Victorus aut Mortis, brother.’
Numeon nodded to all three.
‘We’ll rendezvous in the tunnels. Allof us. May the Emperor go with you.’
Elias felt restive, and not only because of the dull agony in his arm. Outside the tent, the sacrificial pit was quiet, though the air still trembled with the urgent fury of the Neverborn. He could sense their anger. It mirrored his own. To be thwarted so close to his goal, and for what? Some human he had let slip through his grasp.
The overeager hand snatches air, where the considered one holds on to substance.
He had heard Erebus use these words before. They echoed mockingly back at him through the years.
Ranos was dead. His Word Bearers had effectively denuded the city of all life and now only these loyalist dregs and their prisoner remained. But still he was denied the prize he so coveted. Weapons, Erebus had told him. Half dead, his face a bloody ruin, he had uttered this truth. Elias was certain that the spearhead was one such weapon of which his master had spoken. It was raw power incarnated in a fulgurite. Any doubts he may have had about that died along with his arm and the seven acolytes that had burned to ash earlier.
Warily he reached out to touch the spear. It was surprisingly cool and certainly inert, whatever past reaction it may have undergone now dormant but not yet spent. It hummed with a faint vibration, and the blade still threw off a lambent light that suggested its godlike provenance.
Monarchia… Yes, Elias remembered it well, too. He had wept that day, first tears of zealous joy as the cathedra had risen to the sky then righteous anger when the XIII had shamed his Legion and his primarch. He scarcely remembered the human dead, and felt the Emperor’s snub more keenly. Erebus had counselled him that day. He had counselled many. His master had seemed oddly sanguine, as if he knew some measure of what was going to happen before it had actually transpired. Thatwas power. To see fates, to bend and shape them to your will and benefit. Why Erebus had always skulked in the shadows, the power behind the throne instead of its incumbent king, Elias would never understand.
‘What does Erebus know that I–’
The thought was interrupted by the activation of his warp-flask.
Even in the eldritch fire of the flask, Erebus looked crooked and broken. He was dressed in dark robes with a deep cowl hiding his face and head.
Elias bowed at once. ‘Master… you are recovered?’
‘ Evidently not,’ said Erebus, gesturing to his bent-backed form, ‘ but I am healing.’
‘It is glorious to behold, my lord. When I left you in the apothecarion–’
Erebus interrupted. ‘ Tell me what is happening on Ranos.’
‘Of course,’ said Elias, bowing again so he could unclench his teeth without his anger being seen. He held up the spear. ‘The weapon,’ he announced proudly, ‘is in my possession.’
Erebus looked at him in silent incredulity.
Elias could not hide his confusion and said, ‘To win the war. Your last words to me before I left with my warriors.’
‘Your warriors, Elias?’
‘Yours, my lord, humbly appropriated for the task you gave me.’
‘ You have nothing but a spear, Elias. I meanweapons . That with which we shall win this war for Horus and the Pantheon.’ There was a slight angry tremor in Erebus’s voice when he mentioned the Warmaster’s name, and Elias briefly wondered what had happened between them. ‘ Sharpen our own, blunt theirs,’ Erebus told him. ‘ Whoever has the most weapons wins. Don’t you understand that yet?’
Elias was confused. He had done all that was asked of him and yet his master was obviously displeased. Erebus had also neglected to mention his injury, as if perhaps he already knew of it…
‘I… My lord?’ Elias began.
Erebus didn’t answer at first. He was muttering something as if speaking to someone Elias could not see, but the image in the flask showed a chamber that was empty save for Erebus.
‘ Where is John Grammaticus?’ he said at last.
‘Who? The human, you mean?’
‘ Where is he, Elias? You need him.’
‘I have men hunting for him as we speak. They are bringing him to me.’
‘ No,’ said Erebus. ‘ Do it yourself. Find John Grammaticus and hold him for me. Do not sully him in any way, that is my only warning to you.’
Elias raised an eyebrow, and tried to keep the fear out of his voice. ‘You are coming here?’
Erebus nodded. ‘ I have seen the mess you have made on Ranos.’
Fear turned to anger in Elias. ‘I could not have predicted the other legionaries’ presence here. Nor can I leave the ritual site. The Neverborn are–’
Erebus cut him off for the third time with a swipe of his hand. Elias noticed that it was a bionic and appended to his master’s severed wrist stump. ‘ As usual you have failed to grasp the subtleties of the warp. No more blood or further entreaties will get you what you want, Elias.’
‘I only serve you, my lord.’
Erebus chuckled. It was an unpleasant, throaty sound, like he was the victim of some pervasive cancer with only hours to live.
‘ I have matters to attend to here, but be ready for my coming. Be sure that Grammaticus is in your hands by the time that I arrive, or a fire-blackened limb will be the least of your concerns…’
The warp flame evaporated as quickly as it had manifested, leaving Elias alone. Despite the pain in his arm, his entire body tensed with barely contained anger.
‘I am your disciple…’ he gasped at the uncaring air. ‘Your follower. I saved you, took you from that chamber where you would have died without my help.’ His jaw clenched, so tightly that he could no longer utter words. All that came from Elias’s mouth was a spitting, frothing snarl. He fought for calm, found it in the dark pit of his rotten soul.
Elias called out to summon his equerry. ‘Jadrekk…’
The warrior appeared at the tent mouth almost immediately, bowing low.