False Gods (7 page)

The Mournival and Vivar then took up positions a respectful distance behind the Warmaster, as Maloghurst assumed his place at his master’s side. Horus lifted his arms and said, ‘You must bear with me once again, my friends, as we gather to discuss our plans to bring truth and light to the dark places.’

Polite laughter and clapping spread towards the edges of the yurt as Horus continued. ‘Once again we return to Davin, site of a great triumph and the eighth world brought into compliance. Truly it is—’

‘Warmaster,’ came a voice from the centre of the yurt.

The word was spoken softly, and the audience let out a collective gasp at such a flagrant breach of etiquette.

Karkasy saw the Warmaster’s expression turn thunderous, understanding that he was obviously unused to being interrupted, before switching his scrutiny back to the speaker.

The crowd drew back from Erebus, as though afraid that mere proximity to him might somehow taint them with his temerity.

‘Erebus,’ said Maloghurst. ‘You have something to say.’

‘Merely a correction, equerry,’ explained the Word Bearer.

Karkasy saw Maloghurst give the Warmaster a wary sidelong glance. ‘A correction you say. What would you have corrected?’

‘The Warmaster said that this world is compliant,’ said Erebus.

‘Davin is compliant,’ growled Horus.

Erebus shook his head sadly and, for the briefest instant, Karkasy detected a trace of dark amusement in his next pronouncement.

‘No,’ said Erebus. ‘It is not.’

L
OKEN
FELT
HIS
choler rise at this affront to their honour and sensed the anger of the Mournival in the stiffening of their backs. Surprisingly, Aximand went so far as to reach for his sword, but Torgaddon shook his head and Little Horus reluctantly removed his hand from his weapon.

He had known Erebus for only a short time, but Loken had seen the respect and esteem the softly spoken chaplain of the Word Bearers commanded. His counsel had been sage, his manner easy and his faith in the Warmaster unshakeable; but Erebus’s subtle infiltration to the Warmaster’s side had unsettled Loken in ways beyond simple jealousy. Since taking counsel from the first chaplain, the commander had become sullen, needlessly argumentative and withdrawn. Maloghurst himself had expressed his concern to the Mournival over the Word Bearer’s growing influence upon the Warmaster.

After a conversation with Erebus in the
Vengeful Spirit
’s forward observation deck, Loken had known that there was more to the first chaplain than met the eye. Seeds of suspicion had been planted in his heart that day, and Erebus’s words were now like fresh spring rain upon them.

After the influence he had accumulated since Xenobia, Loken could hardly believe that Erebus would now choose to behave in such a boorish manner.

‘Would you care to elaborate on that?’ asked Maloghurst, visibly struggling to keep his temper. Loken had never admired the equerry more.

‘I would,’ said Erebus, ‘but perhaps these might be matters best discussed in private.’

‘Say what you have to say, Erebus, this is the War Council and there are no secrets here,’ said Horus, and Loken knew that whatever role the Warmaster had planned for them was an irrelevance now. He saw that the other members of the Mournival realised this too.

‘My lord,’ began Erebus, ‘I apologise if—’

‘Save your apology, Erebus,’ said Horus. ‘You have a nerve to come before me like this. I took you in and gave you a place at my War Council and this is how you repay me, with dishonour? With insolence? I’ll not stand for it, I’ll tell you that right now. Do you understand me?’

‘I do, my lord, and no dishonour was intended. If you would allow me to continue, you will see that I mean no insult.’

A crackling tension filled the yurt, and Loken silently willed the Warmaster to put an end to this farce and retire to somewhere more secluded, but he could see the Warmaster’s blood was up and there would be no backing down from this confrontation.

‘Go on,’ said Horus through gritted teeth.

‘As you know, we left here six decades ago, my lord. Davin was compliant and seemed as though it would become an enlightened part of the Imperium. Sadly that has not proven to be the case.’

‘Get to the point, Erebus,’ said Horus, his fists clenching in murderous balls.

‘Of course. En route to Sardis and our rendezvous with the Two Hundred and Third fleet, the revered Lord Kor Phaeron bade me detour to Davin that I might ensure the Word of the Emperor, beloved by all, was being maintained by Commander Temba and the forces left with him.’

‘Where is Temba anyway?’ demanded Horus. ‘I gave him enough men to pacify any last remnants of resistance. Surely if this world was no longer compliant I would have heard about it?’

‘Eugan Temba is a traitor, my lord,’ said Erebus. ‘He is on the moon of Davin and no longer recognises the Emperor as his lord and master.’

‘Traitor?’ shouted Horus. ‘Impossible. Eugan Temba was a man of fine character and admirable martial spirit, I chose him personally for this honour. He would never turn traitor!’

‘Would that that were true, my lord,’ said Erebus, sounding genuinely regretful.

‘Well, what in the name of the Emperor is he doing on the moon?’ asked Horus.

‘The tribes on Davin itself were honourable and readily accepted compliance, but those on the moon did not,’ explained Erebus. ‘Temba led his men in a glorious, but ultimately foolhardy, expedition to the moon to bring the tribes there into line.’

‘Why foolhardy? Such is the duty of an Imperial commander.’

‘It was foolhardy, my lord, for the tribes of the moon do not understand respect as we do and it appears that when Temba attempted an honourable parley with them, they employed… means to twist the perceptions of our men and turn them against you.’ ‘Means? Speak plainly, man!’ said Horus.

‘I hesitate to name them, my lord, but they are what might be described in the ancient texts as, well, sorcery.’

Loken felt the humours in his blood swing wildly out of balance at this mention of sorcery, and a gasp of disbelief swept around the yurt at such a notion.

‘Temba now serves the master of Davin’s moon and has spat on his oaths of loyalty to the Emperor. He names you as the lackey of a fallen god.’

Loken had never met Eugan Temba, but he felt his hatred of the man rise like a sickness in his gorge at this terrible insult to the Warmaster’s honour. An astonished wailing swept round the yurt as the assembled warriors felt this insult as keenly as he did.

‘He will pay for this!’ roared Horus. ‘I will tear his head off and feed his body to the crows. By my honour I swear this!’

‘My lord,’ said Erebus. ‘I am sorry to be the bearer of such ill news, but surely this is a matter best left to those appointed beneath you.’

‘You would have me despatch others to avenge this stain upon my honour, Erebus?’ demanded Horus. ‘What sort of a warrior do you take me for? I signed the Decree of Compliance here and I’ll be damned if the only world to backslide from the Imperium is one that I conquered!’

Horus turned to the Mournival. ‘Ready a Speartip – now!’

‘Very well, my lord,’ said Abaddon. ‘Who shall lead it?’

‘I will,’ said Horus.

T
HE
W
AR
C
OUNCIL
was dismissed; all other concerns and matters due before it shelved by this terrible development. A frantic vigour seized the 63rd Expedition as commanders returned to their units and word spread of Eugan Temba’s treachery.

Amid the urgent preparations for departure, Loken found Ignace Karkasy in the yurt so recently vacated by the incensed War Council. He sat with an open book before him, writing with great passion and pausing only to sharpen his nib with a small pocket knife.

‘Ignace,’ said Loken.

Karkasy looked up from his work, and Loken was surprised at the amusement he saw in the remembrancer’s face. ‘Quite a meeting, eh? Are they all that dramatic?’

Loken shook his head. ‘No, not usually. What are you writing?’

‘This, oh, just a quick poem about the vile Temba,’ said Karkasy. ‘Nothing special, just a stream of consciousness kind of thing. I thought it appropriate given the mood of the expedition.’

‘I know. I just can’t believe anyone could say such a thing.’

‘Nor I, and I think that’s the problem.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I’ll explain,’ said Karkasy, rising from his seat and making his way towards the untouched bowls of cold meat and helping himself to a plateful. ‘I remember a piece of advice I heard about the Warmaster. It was said that a good trick upon meeting him was to look at his feet, because if you caught his eye you’d quite forget what it was you were going to say.’

‘I have heard that too. Aximand told me the same thing.’

‘Well it’s obviously a good piece of advice, because I was quite taken aback when I saw him up close for the first time: quite magnificent. Almost forgot why I was there.’

‘I’m not sure I understand,’ said Loken, shaking his head as Karkasy offered him some meat from the plate.

‘Put it this way, can you imagine anyone who had actually met Horus – may I call him Horus? I hear you’re not too fond of us mere mortals calling him that – saying such a thing as this Temba person is supposed to have said?’

Loken straggled to keep up with Karkasy’s rapid delivery, realising that his anger had blinded him to the simple fact of the Warmaster’s glory.

‘You’re right, Ignace. No one who’d met the Warmaster could say such things.’

‘So the question then becomes, why would Erebus say that Temba had said it?’

‘I don’t know. Why would he?’

Karkasy swallowed some of the meat on his plate and washed it down with a drink of the white liquor.

‘Why indeed?’ asked Karkasy, warming to the weaving of his tale. ‘Tell me, have you had the “pleasure” of meeting Aeliuta Hergig? She’s a remembrancer – one of the dramatists – and pens some dreadfully overwrought plays. Tedious things if you ask me, but I can’t deny that she has some skill in treading the boards herself. I remember watching her play Lady Ophelia in
The Tragedy of Amleti
and she was really rather good, though—’

‘Ignace,’ warned Loken. ‘Get to the point.’

‘Oh, yes, of course. My point is that as talented an actress as Ms Hergig is, she couldn’t hold a candle to the performance given by Erebus today.’

‘Performance?’

‘Indeed. Everything he did from the moment he entered this yurt was a performance. Didn’t you see it?’

‘No, I was too angry,’ admitted Loken. ‘That’s why I wanted you there. Explain it to me simply and without digressions, Ignace.’

Karkasy beamed in pride before continuing.

‘Very well. When he first spoke of Davin’s noncompliance, Erebus suggested taking the matter somewhere more private, yet he had just broached this highly provocative subject in a room full of people. And did you notice? Erebus said that Temba had turned against him, Horus, not the Emperor: Horus. He made it personal.’

‘But why would he seek to provoke the Warmaster so?’

‘Perhaps to unbalance his humour in order to bring his choler to the fore; it’s not like he wouldn’t have known what his reaction would be. I think Erebus wanted the Warmaster in a position where he wasn’t thinking clearly.’

‘Be careful, Ignace. Are you suggesting that the Warmaster does not think clearly?’

‘No, no, no,’ said Karkasy. ‘Only that with his humours out of balance, Erebus was able to manipulate him.’

‘Manipulate him to what end?’

Karkasy shrugged. ‘I don’t know, but what I do know is that Erebus
wants
Horus to go to Davin’s moon.’

‘But he counselled against going there. He even had the nerve to suggest that others go in the Warmaster’s place.’

Karkasy shook his hand dismissively. ‘Only so as to look like he had tried to stop him from his course of action, while knowing full well that the Warmaster couldn’t back down from this insult to his honour.’

‘And nor should he, remembrancer,’ said a deep voice at the entrance to the yurt.

Karkasy jumped, and Loken turned at the sound of the voice to see the First Captain of the Sons of Horus resplendent and huge in his plate armour.

‘Ezekyle,’ said Loken. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘Looking for you,’ said Abaddon. ‘You should be with your company. The Warmaster himself is to lead the speartip, and you waste time with scriveners who call into question the word of an honourable Astartes.’

‘First Captain Abaddon,’ breathed Karkasy, lowering his head. ‘I meant no disrespect. I was just apprising Captain Loken of my impressions of what I heard.’

‘Be silent, worm,’ snapped Abaddon. ‘I should kill you where you stand for the dishonour you do to Erebus.’

‘Ignace was just doing what I asked him to do,’ Loken pointed out.

‘You put him up to this, Garviel?’ asked Abaddon. ‘I’m disappointed in you.’

‘There’s something not right about this, Ezekyle,’ said Loken. ‘Erebus isn’t telling us everything.’

Abaddon shook his head. ‘You would take this fool’s word over that of a brother Astartes? Your dalliance with petty wordsmiths has turned your head around, Loken. The commander shall hear of this.’

‘I sincerely hope so,’ said Loken, his anger growing at Abaddon’s easy dismissal of his concerns. ‘I will be standing next to you when you tell him.’

The first captain turned on his heel and made to leave the yurt.

‘First Captain Abaddon,’ said Karkasy. ‘Might I ask you a question?’

‘No, you may not,’ snarled Abaddon, but Karkasy asked anyway.

‘What was the silver coin you gave Erebus when you met him?’

FOUR

Secrets and hidden things

Chaos

Spreading the word

Audience

A
BADDON
FROZE
AT
Karkasy’s words.

Loken recognised the signs and quickly moved to stand between the first captain and the remembrancer.

‘Ignace, get out of here,’ he shouted, as Abaddon turned and lunged for Karkasy.