Deathwing (7 page)

"We
identified the
hulk
as
Prison
of
Lost
Souls,
an
appropriate
name
as
it
turned
out.
We
moved nervously through the shadowy
corridors,
for the
taint of the
warp still hung about
the
craft. It made us
uneasy."

"At
first, there
was no sign
of danger.
Then
we came across
the
bodies
of some Space Wolves.
They
had
been
riddled with
bolter
fire.
We
could
not
guess
how
long
they
had
lain
there
- perhaps
since
the
hulk
had
last
entered normal space.
It might have
been
ten
years
or ten
thousand
- we did not
know. The tides
of warp space
are
unpredictable,
and time flows strangely
there.

"Brother
Sergeant
Conrad ordered
us
to be wary. Then
a terrible thing
occurred.
A Space Wolf's corpse
sat
upright.
its eyes
glowing crimson. 'You are doomed.' it told us.
'Every one
of you
will die as
I have.' We riddled it with
fire
from
our weapons,
but
still its horrible whispers
echoed
in our minds.

"We
began
to
fall
back.
All
around
us,
Blips suddenly
appeared
on
our
sensors.
They
were
running
parallel
to
us, trying
to cut
us
off from the
boarding
torpedo.

"At
corridor
intersections,
we caught
sight
of
armoured
figures.
We
exchanged
a
few
shots
with
them.
I
hit
one
and heard
its
scream
over
the
comm-link.
They
were
using
the
same
frequencies
as
we
were.
When
we
realised
that,
our blood
ran cold. We asked
ourselves:
could these
be Marines?

'We did not
have
long
to
wait
for
an
answer.
They
swarmed
down
the
corridor
toward
us
in
a vast
wave.
They
were garbed
in the
armour
of
Marines,
but
they
were
horribly
mutated.
Some
clutched
rusty
bolters
in tentacles
instead
of hands.
Some had
faces
that
were moist and
green
and
slimy like toads.
Some had
claws
and
extra
limbs.
Some
dragged themselves
along, leaving a trail of mucus behind
them.

"The
mark of Chaos
was upon
them. They
called on Horus
and
those
powers
that
are
better
not
named.
And
we
knew then
- they
were renegades, survivors
from the
Age
of Heresy
who had
pacted
with
Chaos
in
exchange
for
eternal
life. The
fighting
became
close
and
heavy.
They
had
the
weight
of
numbers,
but
we
had
our
Terminator
armour
and
the strength
of righteousness.

"For a moment, it looked as
though
they
might overwhelm us,
but
then
our thunder
hammers and
lightning
claws
came into play, and
we
cut through
them
inexorably.
They
fought
like
daemons,
and
they
had
the
strength
of
the
damned, but
eventually
we won.

"I stood
looking down at the
body
of my last foe, and
a thought
occurred
to me: this
man
had
once
been
a
Marine
like myself. He had undergone
the
same training and
indoctrination
as
I had. He
had
sworn
to
serve
the
Emperor.
And
yet he had
betrayed
humanity. How could
this
be?

"How could
a true Marine become forsworn?
It seemed unlikely that
he would suddenly
turn
his back on the
pattern
of a lifetime and
pact
with the
Darkness.
What
had
Chaos
to offer him?

"Wealth?
We have
no use
for the
baubles
that
other
men covet;
we
already
have
the
finest
of
everything
that a
man could
wish
for.
Sensual
gratification?
We
are taught
its
transitory
nature.
Power?
We
know
true
power,
which
is
the will of the
Emperor. Who
among us
could
equal his sacrifice?"

"No
-
as
I
stood over
his
body
I
came
to
understand.
He had
deviated
not
in
one
leap
but
in
small steps,
by increments.

"First
he
had
come
to
place
trust
in
the
Warmaster.
An
easy
step,
for
was
not
Horus
the
chief
champion
of
the

Emperor?

"Then
he had
come to follow the
Warmaster. Who
would not? A soldier follows his commander.

"Then
he had
come to
believe
Horus
divine.
An
easy
mistake.
Was
not
the
great
Heretic
one
of
the
Primarchs
of
the

First Founding,
gifted with god-like powers
second
only to the
Emperor himself.

"Thus
did
he
sway
from
the
path
of
truth,
till
eventually
he
lost
both
his
life
and
soul. It
is
a
way
that
is
open
to anyone,
one
small mistake leading to another
until at last the
Great Error
is
reached.
This
I
came
to
realise
as
I studied the
body
of the
renegade
on the
Prison of Lost Souls. I resolved
then
and
there
to
submit
myself
to
the
Emperor's
will. I knew that
all
our
regulations
and
our codes
have
a purpose,
and
it
is
not
for
us
to question
them,
for
they
keep
us from the
path
of the
deviant.

Around
the
fire, there
was silence. Cloud Runner could
tell that
Bloody Moon's
words
had touched a
chord
within
the Marines.
He found
himself examining
his
own conscience
for signs
of
heresy.
The
implication
of
Bloody Moon's
tale was
quite
clear:
if
they
lapsed
from
the
service of
the Emperor,
they
were
taking
the
first step
down
the
road
to damnation.
He
had
also
reminded
them
that
they
were
Marines,
the
chosen
of
the
Emperor.
If
they
did
not
keep
the faith, who would?

For a long time, all was quiet. Then
Weasel-Fierce indicated
his wish to talk. "I will speak
of death,"
he said.
"the
death of men and
worlds...."

Two Heads
Talking felt the
impact of the
fat Magus'
will like a physical
blow.
The
great,
dark
eyes
seemed
to
swell,
to become bottomless
pits
into which the
Librarian fell. At his feet, Morning
Star whimpered.

With
a wrench, the
Marine broke the
psychic
contact,
thankful that
his Librarian's armour was equipped
with a psychic hood.
The Magus
was strong,
and
Two Heads
Talking was already tired.

The
Stealers
raced
toward
him.
The
Librarian
raised
his
storm
bolter
and sent
a
hail
of
shells
blazing
out.
Tracer
fire ripped the
night
apart.
The
leading
Genestealer
was shredded
by
the
heavy
bullets.
The
other dodged
with
inhuman speed.

Morning
Star leap
between
the
Librarian
and
his
assailant.
A
claw
flickered,
and
the
old
man's
body
was
tom
in
half. Two Heads
Talking lashed
out
with
his
axe,
willing
it
to
strike
hard,
and
its
blade
burned
coldly
as
it
passed through the
Stealer's neck. He leapt back to avoid
its reflexive death-strike.

The Magus
laughed.
"You cannot
escape.
Why struggle?"

The fat man concentrated,
and
a
halo
of
power
played
around
his
head.
The
Librarian
hosed
him
down
with
fire,
but some force intercepted
the
shells,
causing
them to explode harmlessly a few feet from their target.

Two Heads
Talking strode
forward, swinging
the
axe. He felt his own power build within him as
the
blade
arced
toward his
target.
Something
stopped
it
a
foot
away
from
the
Magus's
head. Great
muscles
bulged
under
his
armour
as
he forced it forward. Servo-motors
whined as
they
added
their strength
to his.

Slowly
,
inexorably,
the
Marine
forced
the
blade
toward
his
enemy.
Sweat
ran
down
the
fat
man's
brow
as
he concentrated. A look of fear passed across
his face. He could
not
save
himself. and
he knew it.

He gave
a single shriek as
his concentration
lapsed.
The force axe sheared through
him from head
to groin. Two
Heads Talking felt the
Magus'
psychic
death
scream
echo through
the
night.
He
sensed
hundreds
of
minds
answer
it
in
the distance, through
the
deadening
curtain of mist, he heard
the
sound
of scuttling,
coming ever closer.

Knowing his only chance
of survival
lay in swift flight, Two Heads
Talking turned
and
ran.

"Our world is dead,"
said
Weasel-Fierce. Some Marines
muttered about
the
fact
that
he
was addressing
than
directly, rather
than
keeping
to
the
ritual.
He
silenced
them
with
a
short, chopping gesture
of
his
right
hand.
When
he
spoke again, his tone
was scathing
and savage.

"This
ritual is a sham. It comes from a time that
is ended.
Why
pretend
otherwise?
You may
wish
to
delude yourselves by
keeping with the
old ways, but
I do not.

"You
can
speak
in
parables about
our
oaths
to
the
Emperor,
the
horror
of
the
Stealers
or
the
nature
of
damnation.
I

choose
to speak
the
truth.

"Our
people
are
dead
or
enslaved,
and
we
sit
here
like
old
women,
asking ourselves
what
to
do.
Have we
been
put under
a
spell?
When
were
we
ever
so
indecisive?
A
true
warrior
has
no
choice
in
this
matter.
We
must
avenge
our people.
Our weapons
must taste
enemy blood.
It would be the
coward's
way not
to face them."

"But if we fail..." began
Bloody Moon.

"If we fail. so
be it. What
have
we to live for? How many summers have
we left before we die of
old
age
or
are encased in the
cold, metal body
of a Living Dreadnought?"

He fell silent and
glared around
the
fire. To Cloud Runner's
surprise,
he looked down, and
the
fury seeped
out
of him.

"I am old," he
said
softly.
"Old
and
tired.
I
have
seen
more
than
two
hundred
summers.
In
a
few
more,
I
will
be
dead anyway.
I had hoped
to gaze again on my kin before then,
but
it is not
to be. This is my only regret."

Cloud Runner could
see
the
weariness
in
him,
felt
its
echo
in
his
own
mind.
Every
man about
the
fire
had
served
the