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DAEMONOLOGYChrisWraight
TheworldwascalledTerathalion,namedforthespeciesofjewelfoundinitsequatorialbeltundermountainsofcopperandiron.EvenduringthelonginterstellarsilencebeforetheIpsissimushadmadehimselfknown,thoseswirledgreen-orangejewelshadbeenminedandcutandpolished,adorningthechieftreasuresoftheplanet–thesewerealwaysbooks.ForTerathalionwasaworldofwordswheredocumentsstoredinathousand
humantongueswerecollated,analysed,annotatedandcatalogued.Alibrary-world,theyhadcalleditlater.Aplacewhereknowledgecoalesced,
allunderthebenignguidanceofdistantmastersonProspero.ForahundredyearsafteritsincorporationintotheImperium,ruby-armouredmagistershadbeenwelcomeandfrequentvisitors,promptedbycuriosityorsentonassignmentbytheirveneratedprimarchinsearchofmyriadfragmentsoflearning.ThosevisitshadslowlydriedupasthedemandsoftheGreatCrusadehaddrawnmoreoftheXVLegionawayfromtheloose-thrownProsperineempireuntil,oneday,theyhadceasedaltogether.Duringthisnewisolation,theworld’stemporalmastersdidnotworryunduly,
nordidtheyseekespecialclarification.Thegalaxyhadbeenmadesafeforstudy,andsoTerathalion’spatientworkcontinuedunabated.TheyknewthattheLegionswouldreturnintime,foritwaswidelyunderstoodthatSpaceMarinesleftnotaskunfinished.Inthat,thetemporalmasterswereofcourseentirelycorrect,excepttheships
thateventuallyemergedfromtheMandevillepointintheImperialyear007.M31andspreadoutthroughthelocalsystemwerenotthesleekandgloriouslydecoratedsystem-runnersoftheXVLegion,butcorpse-grey,vast-hulledleviathans.
Moreover,itwasnomeresquadronthathadarrived,butanentirebattlegroup.AndasthewarshipstookuppositionaboveTerathalion’srisiblymeagreorbitaldefences,eventhemosttrustingoftheplanet’soverseersfeltasenseofunease.Theysentmessagestotheleadbattleship,acolossalGloriana-classmonster
withthetacticalidentEndurance,butnoresponsewasreceived.Orderswerefranticallytransmittedtothedefencegridtomobilise,butbytheneventhatgesturewasmadefartoolate.TheplacidpeopleofTerathalionhadneverwitnessedthefullfirepowerofa
Legionfleetbefore,andsotheycouldhardlybeblamedfornotknowingwhattoexpect.Theywerestilllookingupintotheskieswhenthebombardmentbegan,turningtheskieswhiteasthecloudsboiledaway.Massdriversannihilatedtheouterringofdefencesbeforepinpointlancestrikesdestroyedeverycommand-and-controlnodeacrossthenorthernhemisphere.Arainofincendiariesrippedthroughtheurbancentres,fallingforhouruponhourinanunrelentingbarragethatleftbarelyonestonestandingatopthenext.Sheetsofpromethiumflamesweptthroughwhatlittleremained,scorchingitblack.Thebooksburned.Millennialtomesthathadbeensecuredinvacuum
chamberswererippedapartasthearmourglasscasingsshattered.Archivesbecamewhite-hottunnels,atomisingirreplaceablevolumesinpuffsofburningdust.Whenthebombardmentfinallyrelented,thefewsurvivorscreptslowlyfrom
whateverrefugestheyhadbeenabletofind,theirearsringingandtheireyesstreaming.Foramomentitseemedtothemlikesomeawfulerrorhadbeencommitted,andthattheworstwasover,andthat–satisfiedwiththeapocalypticdestructiontheyhadwrought,forreasonsthatwerestillentirelymysterious–theattackerswouldnowmoveontotheirnexttarget.Butthendirtycontrailsofdroppodssplitthesmoke-barredskies.Allacross
Terathalion’snewlytorturedsurface,clustersofadamantiumteardropscrashedtoearth,disgorgingsquadsofpale-greySpaceMarinesfromtheimpact-rubble.Moreandmorelanded,untilwholebattalionsofwarriorsstalkedthroughtherapidlytoxifyingatmosphere,theirfaceshiddenbehindslope-grilledhelms.Withhorrifyingefficiency,theygroundtheirwayfromoneravagedhab-sectiontothenext.Theyaskednoquestionsandmadenodemands.Asaftershockthunderheads
boiledacrosstherubbledcityscapesandheavilyacidicrainbegantodrumfromstill-hotmetal,thesurvivorsofruinedTerathalionwerehunteddownlikevermin.
InGeryiadha,oncetheworld’sfifthmostpopulouscityandhometosatintreegrovesandfountain-gardens,theconcentrationwasmoreintensethananywhereelse.Inthemainboulevard–nowapittedtrenchofsmokingrockcretedebris–theairitselfshimmeredandbrokeopen,leakingarcsofneon.Dustswirledandwhippedintoserpents,andmasonryblocksrolledclear.Asphereofsilversuddenlyflashedintolife,lacedwithwrithingblackenergies.Asharpsnaprangout,shatteringtheorb’sfragileskinandsendingshardsbouncingawayacrossthedetritus.Atthecentrestoodeightmassivefigures.Sevenofthemstrodeout
immediately,heftinglongscythesinheavygauntlets.Theirthickbattleplatewasgougedandcharred,asthoughtheyhadjustcomefromsomefuriousbattleagainststernerfoesthananythingalibrary-worldmightreliablymuster.Theeighthtoweredovereventhoseleviathans.Hisarchaicarmour,linedwith
rustandmarkedwithwhatlookedlikedeepblade-cuts,steamedwithwarp-frost.Yellowedeyesglintedfrombeneathashroud-whitecowl,setinagauntfaceringedbyrebreathertubesandfeeder-vials.Hisexpressionwashaunted,eventhoughtherewasnothingontheplanetthatcouldpossiblyharmhim,andhisfingerstwitchedashehauledhisowngreatscytheintoposition.Thecrackleofflamesrumbledoninthedistance,punctuatedbythemuffled
crackofbolterfire.Forge-hotwindstoreacrossthedisintegratingurbanvista,fuelledbytheinfernosraginginthehollowhab-spires.TheprimarchMortariondrewinhisfirstrattlingbreathofTerathalion’ssmog-
chokedatmosphere,andswepthisgazeacrosstheboulevard.‘Findit,’herasped.
Seventyyearsearlier,andhalfagalaxyaway,MalcadortheSigillitehadbeenoccupiedwhenthealertcamethrough.TheFirstLordofTerrawasalwaysoccupied,forthecivilaffairsoftheexpandingImperiumweremorethanonemancouldpossiblyhandle.Inasense,ofcourse,hewasfarmorethanoneman.Hewasanaberration,
justasallthepowerfulofthegalaxywereaberrations–arandomfluctuationinthepsychictides,ananomalyamidstthequadrillionsthatmadeuptheburgeoningmassofhumanity.Still,thatdidnotenablehimtoescapefromtheburdenofallempires.
Wheneveroneexecutiveorderwassignedoff,anotherninewouldtakeitsplace.Witheverycompliancecamemoredemandsforiterators,culturalassimilators,remembrancers,terraformers,tradertreaties.Helookeddownatthelonglistof
incomingdiplomaticcommuniqués,andhisancientheartsank.Whenthealertflickeredacrosshisdisplayfeed,then,itwaswelcome.‘Mylord,’camethevoicefromthecomm-beadinhiscollar,theonereserved
forurgenttransmissions.‘Mylord–heishere,andhewillnotbedissuaded.’Malcadorrosefromtheantiquewritingdeskandreachedforhisaquila-
toppedstaff.‘Understood.Iwillbewithyoushortly.’Hewalkedquicklythroughhisprivatechambers,thenoutintothecorridorsof
theImperialPalace.Thecourtiersandpoliticaldelegatesshuffledoutofhisway;eithertheyhadnoideawhohewasandhadnointerestinmeetinghisgaze,ortheyknewexactlywhohewas,inwhichcasetheydidnotdareto.Hepassedthroughtheimage-linedcolonnades,gardenchambersandlibraries,paddingsoftlyonsoft-soledshoes.Graduallytheranksofunaugmentedcourtiersfellaway,tobereplacedbythe
redandgoldoftheMechanicumandtheLegioCustodes.Nonebarredhispassage–downinthesubterraneanlevels,allknewhisnameandwhathissimpleaquilastaffrepresented.Hereachedtheexcavationstratum,andthefunctionarywhohadcalledhim
hurriedover,anapologeticlookonhisface.‘Iamsorry,mylord,’hesaid.‘Thatisallright,Sefel,’Malcadorreplied.‘Whereishe?’‘Intheouterportal.’‘Thenyoushouldhavesummonedmesooner.’Hewentmorequicklythen,ignoringthetoweringvaultsaroundhim,andthe
lowrumbleofthecreationenginesandflashesoflightfromarc-welders.Theairbecamehotter.Soonhewaswalkingacrossbarerock,stillscoredfromthedrillsthathaddelvedintoit,andhadtostepoverthebronze-linedcablesthatlaylikeserpentsacrosshispath.Malcadorfoundhimjustinsidethefirstgate,withthesoundofmacrohammers
ringingthroughthosedarkarches.Hewasstanding,staringupattheunfinishedportal,hisgreyfacelostinthought.Followinghisgaze,Malcadordrewupalongsidehim.Itwasanoctagonal
gateway,threehundredmetresacross,reinforcedwithanadamantiumcollarandringedwiththerunesofOldEarth.ATitancouldhavewalkedthroughthatgate.Perhaps,intime,onewould.‘Whatisitfor?’thewatcherasked.Thequestionfeltpremature.Theportalwouldnotbefinishedfordecadesyet.
Itsimmenseframeopenedupontonothingbutbarerock–itwasadoorto
nowhere,fashionedatenormousexpenseandinconditionsoftheutmostsecrecy.‘Whyareyouhere,Mortarion?’Malcadorasked,asgentlyashecould.‘Whatisitfor?’theprimarchrepeated.MalcadorplacedawitheredhanduponMortarion’sback,makingtousher
himawaybutnotbeingsofoolishastoactuallypush.‘Comewithme.Weshouldtalk.’Theprimarchglareddownathim,histoxin-scarredfeaturesetchedwith
contempt.‘Oneday,oldman,’hesaid,curlinghisgauntletintoafist,‘oneofuswillleaveyougaspinginthedust.Perhapsitwillbeme.’‘Nodoubtyouareright.Now,please,comeawayfromthegate.’‘Why?Isitdangerous?’Malcadordidn’tlookupatit.Heneverlikedtolookatit.‘Notyet,’hesaid.
Lermentadidn’trunimmediately.She’dknownthatitwastheendassoonasshehadseenthefirstaugur-pinpricksconfirmed.Asoneofthehigher-rankingsyndicsofGeryiadha’sadministrativearchivalcadre,shewasprivytothingsthatothersweren’t,althoughonthatdayshefoundthatshecouldn’ttakeanyparticularpleasureinthat.Shehadmadeherwayquicklydownfromthemaincollationspireandjogged
throughtherowsandrowsofbookshelves,allowingherselfamomentarytwingeofsorrowasthetitlespassedbyinthegloom.Bythetimethewarningsirensweresounding,shehadmadeitoutofthecoreandintoopenair.She’dlookedup,asifshemightcatchaglimpseoftheshipsthatsheknewwerefallingintopositionaboveher.Theskyhadbeenapale,puregreen,justasitwaseverymorningduringthetithe-season.LikemostthingsonTerathalion,ithadalwayshadasparsebeautytoit.Nowthatwasallgone,stirredupintofire-edgedstormsthatshedacidrain-
liketears.Everythingstankofcordite,mingledwiththehot-metalaromaofplasma-discharge.Shecrouchedundertheshadowofashatteredmedicaeunit,feelingnumbevenamidsttheburning.Herscholar’ssmockclungtoher,drivenbytheracingfire-wind.She’dseenwholekill-squadsofSpaceMarinesmovingthroughthecityzones,
cuttingdownsurvivorswithchillingexpertise.Theyhadnevermadeasound,saveforthecrunchofbootsonboneandthecoarsebarkoftheiroutsizedbolters.Theydidn’tscareher,butitdrovetheothersmadwithfear.Thosethatcould
stillrunsprintedforthecitylimits,nodoubthopingthatiftheycouldjustgetclearofthedropzonethentheymighthaveachance.Lermentawatchedthemfromherinadequateshelter.Theyweredoingwhat
everyinstincttoldthemtodo,thoughitmadethemterrifyinglyeasytokill.Shecouldonlywatchasmen,womenandchildrenweregunneddownatrange,cutapartupcloseorcrushedbeneaththetreadsoftanksbroughtdownbybulklanders.Terathalionhadbeenhometoapopulationinthebillions,andittookawhileforeventheLegionesAstartestotrackthemalldown.Whenshehadtomove,shekeptherbodylowandhuggedtheremnantsof
whateverbuildingsstillstood.Therockcretewashottothetouch,burningthroughthesolesofherregulationsandals.Shedidn’thaveaplan.Therewaspreciouslittletoplanforwhentheentireplanetwasclearlybeingtornapart,andallthatremainedwasadumb,animalisticsenseofwantingtostayintactforjustalittlebitlonger.Shewentsouth,towardstheoldrivercoursewhereindustrialhoppersforthe
jewel-tradestood.Thoseweremadeofplasteelandadamantium,enoughtowithstandthesmelters,sosomeofthemmightstillbestanding.Assheflittedbetweenhollowwallsections,shefeltherheartthuddinginherchest,tightandrapid.Shewassowrappedupinpickingaroutethatsheheardtheboot-fallstoolate.
Cursingunderherbreath,shedidwhatalltheothersdidandbrokeintoasprint.Shedidnotlookback.Perhapstheyhadn’tseenher,inwhichcaseshemightstillracethroughthe
shadowsandgetaway.Perhapstheyhadn’tseenher.Theabsurdityofthethoughtwasamusing,inspiteofwhatitportended.These
wereSpaceMarines.Theyheardeverything,theysaweverything.Still,sheranon,gaspingintheash-thickair,weavingthroughwhatremainedofanoldmanufactorydepot.Sheveeredhardaroundacorner,skiddingontherain-washedstone.Aheadofher,alongalleystretchedaway,linedwiththeemptycorpsesof
drive-housings.Atthefarend,shesawhimwaiting.Hewasmassive,farbiggerinthefleshthanshehadeverconceivedhemight
be,radiatinganauraofsuchastonishingpsychicauthoritythatitmadeherwanttogaspoutloud.Theelementsthemselvesseemedtosheerawayfromhim,thoughhisscythe’senergisedbladeranwithboilingrainwater.Shewantedto
lookawaybuttheyellowedeyesheldherfast.Hewalkedslowlytowardsher,loomingthroughtwistingpallsofsmog,crackingtheroadsurfaceunderhisheavytread.Foramoment,asshestaredupattheapproachingface,shewasonlystruckby
onethinginparticular.Pain.Theprimarch’sgreyvisagewastwistedintowhatlookedlikea
permanentwince,half-hiddenbehindahissingrebreatherintake.‘Whatdoyouwanthere?’shemanagedtoblurtout,hearingthearrivalof
moreDeathGuardcomingupbehindher.Mortarionshotherawitheringlook,asiftosay,Don’ttrythatwithme.He
grabbedherchinandhelditup,pinchingitbetweentheplatesofhiselaborategauntletandheldhergazeforalittlewhilelonger.Itfeltlikeknivesbeingshovedintoherlungs.Then,mercifully,hereleasedher.Hegesturedtohisentourage,andLermentafelttwohandsgripherbytheshoulders.‘Wehaveit,’Mortarionannounced,thoughnottoher,andinavoicethat
soundedlikeaflailbeingdraggedacrossrustediron.‘Iwillreturntotheship.Youmaydestroywhatremains.’
MalcadortookMortarionbackuptohispersonalchambers,highupontheslopesoverlookingthevastsprawlofthepalace’sgrandhallsandspires.TheSigillitehadspentmorethanamortallifetimemakingitaplaceofbeautyandsanctuary,butMortarionseemedbarelytonoticewhathadbeenplacedthere.Theprimarchsimplystoodonthepolishedmarble,exudingvapours,hisbreathingacoarsescrape.‘Iwouldseemyfathernow.’‘TheEmperorisnotavailable,’Malcadorreplied.‘Whereishe?’‘Idonotknow.’Mortarionsnorted.‘Youknowhiseverymovement.Youknowhisevery
thought.’‘No.Nomanknowsthosethings.’Mortarionstartedpacing,kickingasidepricelesspiecesofantiquefurnitureas
hewent.‘Hecannotkeepmehereformuchlonger.Hetriesmypatience.’‘YourLegionawaitsyou,andthelastpreparationsarebeingmade.Youwill
jointhemsoonenough.’Mortarionturnedonhim,hiseyesflashingwithfrustratedanger.‘Thenwhy
imprisonmehere?Didhedothistoanyofmybrothers?’
Malcadornoticedtheedgeofunreasoninhisguest’sface,andwonderedifitwasgettingworse.Allthegene-progenyoftheGreatProjecthadbeendamagedbythescattering,butMortarion’swoundsrandeeperthanmost.Angronhadbeenphysicallydamaged,andCurze’smindhadsunkenintodarkness,butMortarionseemedtohavebeeninheritedsomethingofbothafflictions.TheEmperor’sdesiretokeephimawhileonTerrapriortojoiningtheCrusadehadbeenmotivatedfromthehighestintentions,justasallthedecisionstheyhadjointlymadehadbeen.Thatdidnotmeanthatitwastherightdecision,northatthepoisonscouldallbeextracted…‘Youwereallgivendifferentgifts,’explainedMalcadorpatiently.‘Youhaveall
haddifferenttrials.’‘NonehadmorethanI,’mutteredMortarion.‘Iknowyoubelievethat.’Mortarionturnedbacktotheview,wrinklinghisgreyskinagainsttheglare.
‘YouhavedonenothingbutpreachatmesinceIwasbroughthere.YoutalkoftheImperialTruth,andyetyouareneck-deepinwitchery.’Hegrimacedbeneathhisrebreather,makingtheskinaroundhistempleswrinkle.‘Icansmellitonyou.AssoonasIleaveyourpresence,youwillbebackatyourspellbook.’Malcadorsuppressedasigh.Thisagain.‘Therearenospells,Mortarion.Youknowthat.’‘Whatisthegateyouarebuildingdownthere?’‘Ididnotsayitwasagate.’‘Ithaseightsides.Itissurroundedbynumerologicalsymbols.Icouldsmell
theincense.’‘Yourfatherhasmanyprojects.’Theprimarchnodded.‘Hedoes.Hestartsmanythings,anddiscardsthem
whentheynolongerkeepHisinterest.TherearetimeswhenIthinkHemayhavestartedtoomany,andthattheywillcomebacktohauntHim.’‘Thereisapurpose,’Malcadorreplied.‘Adesign.SomethingsHeisableto
explainnow,andsomeHewillexplainlater.Allweask–allwehaveeverasked–isforalittletrust.’WhenMortarionmadehismove,itwassurprisinglyquick.Hewhirled,hisgauntletflashingout,catchingthefraillordbytheneckand
grippingtight.Malcadorstruggledforbreath,lookingupintothemaskofsuddenhatrednowloomingoverhim.TheprimarchstillborethestenchofBarbarusuponhisarmour.‘Trust?’Mortarionhissed.‘Iseeyourfoulnessbeforeme,asplainasthesun.
Youareasorcerer,oldman,andthestinkofitmakesmewishtovomit.’Foronce,Malcadorstruggledfortherightwords.Hecouldhaveusedhisart
todefendhimself,butthatwouldonlyenragetheprimarchfurther.Therewassomuchsubtletyatstake–thenatureofthepsyker,theproperuseofthehumanmind–butsuchargumentswerehardtoformulatewithagene-forgedfistaroundone’sthroat.ThenMortarionletgoassuddenlyashehadgraspedhimandsnorted
contemptuouslyasMalcadoronlybarelyfoundhisfeet.‘Youmustthinkmestupid,’hesnarled.‘ApeasantofBarbarus,notfittowalk
thesamepathsasmyillustriousbrothers.ButIseethroughyou,oldman.Iseewhatyouare,andItellyouthis–IwillneverserveinyourCrusadewhiletherearewitchesamongus.’Mortarion’stoxin-spoiledvoiceshookwithfervour,butMalcadorcomposed
himself.Atonetimeoranother,alloftheprimarchshadexertedtheirstrengthinhispresence.Theyseemedtoenjoydemonstratingtheirphysicalprowessoverhim,asifperpetuallyresentfulofhisprivilegedplaceattheirfather’sside.Hehadgottenusedtolettingtheslightspass.‘Doyou…reallymean…that?’Malcadormanagedtoask,andMortarion’s
glowerwasalltheconfirmationheneeded.‘Verywell.Ihadhopedtoshowyouthislater…whenmatterswereatagreaterstageofreadiness…butperhapsnowwillserve.’Hebrusheddownhisrobes,tryingnottoshowjusthowmuchMortarion’s
chokinggriphadpainedhim,andgesturedtowardsapairofmahoganydoorsthatledtoachambernormallyoff-limitstoallbuthimselfandtheEmperor.‘Afteryou.Ithinkyouwillfindthis…interesting.’
Theprimarch’schamberaboardtheEndurancewasclutteredandclaustrophobic.Lermentalethereyesrunacrossit,takinginthepilesofoldequipmentscatteredacrosstheblackpressed-metalfloor.Perhapsonceithadbeenafinelyappointedspace,deckedwithfineitemsmoreinkeepingwithaprivateretreatofanEmperor’sson,thoughnowitlookedmorelikethedomainofamindteeteringontheedgeofinsanity.Rollsofcrumpledparchmentspilledacrosscollectionsofephemerafromathousandworlds–stuffedxenosheads,astrolabes,divinationboardsmadeofrosewoodandiron,leather-boundmanualsonnumerology,orknapped-flintknivesofallsizestiedwithlengthsoftwine.Thefloorhadbeenetchedwithconcentriccircles,eachmarkedwitha
differentrune.Ironlozenges,alsomarkedwithsigils,hungonchainsfromthe
archedceiling,twistinggentlyunderthedimlightofflickeringtorches.Theairwascloseandashotasblood.Lermentawasshackledtightlybyherwrists,neckandankles,boundtoaniron
framethatstoodatthefarendoftheramshacklechamber,facingintowardsthecircles.ShehadtotwistherheadtocatchaglimpseofMortarion.Aneye-shaped
viewportalstoodovertoherleft,takingupnearlytheentireheightoftheoutward-facingchamberwall.Terathalioncouldbeseenthroughthearmourglass,stillglowingbrightlyinthevoidandbetrayinglittleofitsongoingpain.Mortarionstoodbeforetheportal,breathingdeeply,watchingtheplanetdie.Everysooftenhewouldtwitch,orhisgauntletswouldclench,orhisrebreatherwouldemitafaintchokeofexpelledair.Hehadbeenstandingthereforoveranhour.SincetheLegionmenialshadpinnedhertotheframeandleftthetwoofthemaloneinthechamber,hehadsaidnothing.‘So,youdidthatalljusttofindme?’askedLermenta,growingtiredofthe
enforcedsilence.Mortarionturneduponherslowly.Hiseverymovementwasdeliberate,as
thoughweigheddownbyaterribleweariness.Upclose,Lermentacouldseebarely-healedwoundsbeneaththeshadowofhiscowl.Whatcouldwoundhim?Whatcouldevenscratchhim?‘Notallofit,’heraspedthroatily,hisrebreatherclickingasitfilteredhis
words.‘Itisgoodtodestroyaworld.Itpurifiesthesoul.’Lermentaraisedaneyebrow.Theprimarch’svoicesoundedstrangelyfebrile.Helimpedpasther,comingtorestattheepicentreoftherune-circles.He
foldedhisarmsandregardedher.‘Foralongtime,’hesaid,‘Ibelievedwhatmynewfathertoldme.Itoldmyselfthatyouwereamyth.’‘Well,youcanseethat’snottrue.’‘Iseeamortalwoman.’Mortarionsaid.‘Icouldsnapyourneckwithmy
fingertips.’‘Suchacharmer.’Mortarionadvancedtowardsher,historturedfacelookingoddlydistracted.He
staredatherlikeamanmightstareatanewlydiscoveredtumour.‘Howlongwereyoudowntherewiththem?’‘Twenty-fiveyears,’shereplied.‘Andthemortalyouconsumed?’‘Iforget.Ican’taskheranymore–shequicklylosthermind.’‘Whywereyousent?’
‘Iwasnotsent,’Lermentasnapped.‘Ichoseit.Therewerepricelessthingsdownthereandnowyouhavedestroyedthemall.YourbrotherMagnuswillbeangry,whenhereturns.’‘Donotspeaktomeofmybrothers.Anyofthem.’Mortarionwasstudyingherintently.Closeup,Lermentacouldsmellthe
chemicaltangofhisarmour-systems,theripeedgetohisextrudedbreath.Shecouldseetheminusculedartsofhispupils,andthefainthiddenspasmsaroundhismouth.‘Youarefoultome,’hepronouncedatlast.Lermentabowedasmuchasherbondswouldlether.‘Yetyouarenothingless
thanastonishingtome.Iamfullofadmiration.Truthfully,Ididnotexpecttoendurelongenoughtoseeyouatsuch…quarters.’Theflatterymadenoimpact–Mortarion’spsychewassoinuredtodisdain
thathecouldnolongerseeanythingotherthanveiledcontempt.Lermentacouldalmosthearthatparanoiaechoinginhismind,pursuinghim,draggingathismighty,woundedsoul.‘Mybrothersarealreadyusingyourkind,’Mortariontoldher.‘Theytellme
Lorgarwillinglyinfectshiswarriors.AndthereisFulgrim.’Mortarionshuddered.‘Iwonderatit.Thehypocrisy.’‘Youshouldnot.Theyhaveseentheorderofnatureandacceptedit.’Mortarionsmiledjoylesslybehindtherebreather.Heturned,gesturingtothe
collectionofesotericainhischambers.‘Thesearewards,’hesaid.‘Protectionsagainstthedark.Sorceryisacancer.Wemustguardagainstit.Pushitback.’Heshuffledovertooneofthescrollsandidlytracedafingeroverthetext.‘TheancientTerransbelievedinonegod.Infinite.Omnipotent.Thatgavethemaconundrum–howtodescribeperfection?Whatwordscouldpossiblysuffice?’Mortarioncrumpledtheparchmentinhisfist.Hisfingerswerealmost
trembling.‘Alltheyallowedthemselveswasthevianegativa–tospeakofwhattheirgod
wasnotlike.Andwhentheyhadexhaustedallthethingsthatwerenottrue,whatremainedintheblindspotwashisnature.’Helookedbackather,andtheevidentloathingreturned.‘Isurroundmyselfwithallthatisnotthewarp,foritishatefultome.Whateverremainsiscorruption.Iseekitout.Idestroyit.’‘Andyet,’saidLermenta,‘ofallthatworld’ssouls,youchosetopreserveme.’Mortarion’srighteyelidtwitched.‘Fornow.’‘Why?’Hedrewcloseagain,anditwasallLermentacoulddonottoshrinkbackin
herbonds.‘Iamsurroundedbythedamned,’hesaid.‘Jaghataiwasright–Iamonmyownwiththem.Theaetherstainseverything.ButIwillunderstandit.AndIwillovercomeit.’‘Oh,forpity.Nothingcanovercomeit.’Theprimarchloomedoverher,andhisshadowedfaceboiledwithanold,old
resentment.‘Allthingscanbeovercome,’hehissed.‘Yourfinaltask,daemon,istoshowmehow.’
MalcadorusheredMortarionintoanarrowchamber.Theonlyfurniturewasalong,lowtabledrapedinblacksilk.Whenthedoorswereclosedbehindthem,theroomsankintoavelvetydarkness.Malcadorgesturedwithhisindexfingerandahololithemergedoverthetable,
tinypointsoflightglintinglikediamondsintheair.Itwasatri-mapofthegalacticsector.‘Ittookusalongtimetofindasuitablelocation,’Malcadorsaid,asthe
displaygraduallyzoomedin.‘Averylongtime.’HewatchedasMortarion’sshrewd,suspiciouseyestookineverydetail–the
inboundshiptrajectorymarkersandthemanifestlogsthatflickeredinscrollinglists.‘ThentherewerethenegotiationswithMars.Ithoughtthey’dbepleasedto
help,buttherearealwaysdifficultiestounravel.Butthework,Iamhappytosay,isnowadvanced.’Thehololithcontinuedtocycleincloser.Aplanetswamintofocus,itssurface
wrackedbytectonicfaultlines.‘Whereisthisplace?’askedMortarion.‘Youtellmeyouwillrefusetoserveifpsychicpotentialremainsinthe
Legions,’saidMalcador,watchingtheviewcontinuetoexpand.‘Ibelieveyou.IthasbeenattheforefrontoftheEmperor’smindformanygenerations.Therearecomplexitiestoovercome,butmuchofHislabourhasbeenexpendedonthatveryquestion.Thisisapartofit.’Mortariongazedattheplanetscapebeforethem.Therewererainyimagesof
vastMechanicumvoid-engineshanginginloworbit,andterraformingcrawlersbeinglifteddownthroughavolatileatmosphere.Otherprojectionsshimmeredintolife–ahugecomplex,risingoutofadesolatelandscapeofvolcanicash,radiatingoutfromamassivecentralarena.‘Imagineit,’saidMalcador.‘Ifawaycouldbefoundtoremovethewarpfrom
thearteriesoftheImperium.Ifthearmiesofhumanitycouldtravelwithoutuse
oftheNavigatorgene.IfthepsykerscouldbewithdrawnfromtheLegions,steadilyandwithcaution.Wehavealreadybeguntoprepareforthisday.Itwillnotbeeasy,fortherearepowerfulforcesrangedagainstus,bothwithinandwithout.’Malcadorarrestedthezoom,hoveringoverthehalf-builtarena.Itwasacolossalspace,apalaceinitsownright,carvedoutofthevolcanicwoundofanotherworld.‘ThisisNikaea,Mortarion.Itisaworldwithadestiny,andyouwillhavea
parttoplaythere.’Mortarionappearedtobecaughtbetweenemotions–theperennialdistrust,
leavenedbyanundoubtedcuriosity.‘Whatareyoutellingme?’heasked,grudgingly.‘Thatyouarevalued,Mortarion.Youwillbemighty,asstrongasthebonesof
theearth,andapillarofyourFather’svision.’Malcadordaredreachouttohim,torestahandontheprimarch’scolossalwrist.‘Remaintruetous,andHewillgiveyouthis.Youwillspeakthere,tomakeyourcasebeforetheeyesoftheentireImperium,tounburdenyourselfofthethingsthatyounowcarryunaided.Fornow,wemustperforcebuildanempirewithforbiddentools.Butadaywillcomewhenallthesethingsarenolongernecessary.’Mortarion’seyesremainedfixeduponthearena.Itwasasifhewerealready
imagininghimselfstandingthere.Foralongtime,hesaidnothing.Then,slowly,hisdemeanourchanged.‘Tellmemore,’hesaid.
‘Youareafool,’saidLermenta,interestedtoseehowfarshecouldpushtheprimarch.Sheguessedthatitwouldnotbeveryfar–hewasalreadyteeteringontheprecipice.ShehadheardofwhathadbeendonetohimonBarbarus,anddidnotwonderatthemonsterthathadbeenproduced.Insomeways,itwasamiraclethathestillhadanysanityleftatall.‘Ihavelearnedmanythings,’wheezedMortarion,gesturingtothearcane
objectsstrewnacrossthefloor.‘Yourkindcanbewardedagainst.Youcanbebound.Youcanbeused,likeblades,andthensentbacktothehellsthatspawnedyou.’Lermentafeltlikelaughinginhisface.Shehadheardthesamescreedsfroma
thousandothermortalsovertheaeons,eachoneconvincedthathealonehadfoundawaytonegotiatewiththegodsfornopriceatall.‘Letmetellyouoftheempyrean,’shesaid.‘Therearemanygreatforcesin
theaether,andoneofthemhasyournameetchedoverhisrustingthrone.Heis
waiting,thoughnotforverymuchlonger.Itmattersnothowmanytrinketsyourattleorwave–hewillnotbedenied.Hehasclaimedyou.’‘Nonehaveclaimedme!’snarledMortarion.‘EvenmyFathercouldnotclaim
me!Me,whowasguiltyofpatricidelongbeforetheseedsoftreacheryweresownintheWarmaster’sheart.Ihaveseenthemalloff–thetyrants,thewitches,thexenosfilth.OnlyIremain–pureofitall,freeofcorruption.’‘Youdonotlookpuretome.’Theprimarchglowered.‘Icancompelyou,daemon.Iknowthewords,the
numericalconstantsthatbindyou,draggingyoufromoneformtoanother.Ihavestudiedthesethings.Itisnotwitchery,butscientificreason.’Lermentafeltrealcontemptthen.Thedamagedfigurebeforeherhadnotrue
knowledge,justfalsehopesandgleanings.Herownmaster’sfavourite,Magnus–ah,nowtherewasonewhoreallyunderstoodthemysteriesoftheempyrean,andevenhehadbeendeceived.‘Youwishtoknowthetruth?’sheasked.Mortarioncamecloser.‘Iwillknowthetruth,’hehissed.‘Icanshowittoyou.’‘Idestroyedaworldtofindyou.Givemetheknowledge.’Lermentasmiledsweetly.‘Verywell.’Exertingherpowerwastriviallyeasy.Mostofthewardsandcantrips
Mortarionhadassembledtokeepherinplacewereembarrassinglyweak,andonlyonethinginthechamberhadthepowertoreallyhurther.‘Thisisthetruth.’Herbondsshattered.Herhumanshellpeeledaway,sloughingfromherlikea
bloodycloakandrevealingaglossy,insectoidtrue-form.Shelaunchedherselfattheprimarch,herjawsgapingobscenelywide,herclawsraking.Shetookhimbysurprise.Itwasheronlyadvantageandshepressedit,
gougingathisgrease-streakedarmourandtryingtognawatthefleshwithin.Hehammeredaheavyfistdown,tryingtotakeherheadoff,butsheevaded
himwithease.Shepunchedaclawintohismidriff,bitingdeep,elicitingaroarofpain.Bythegods,shewasenjoyingthis.Hisphysicalstrengthwasenormous,butthatwouldnothelphim,forshewas
acreatureofanti-physics,shackledonlybylawsthathefearedtoinvoke.Shewoundedhimagain,goadinghimlikesomehugetaurodon,drivinghisangerdeepertowardsmania.‘Banish!’heroaredasshelaughedathim.‘Goback!’
Hisfistswereflailingnow,tryingtolatchontoher,todragherdown.Sheslippedthroughhisfingerslikeaneel,bloodlettingasshewent,addingfreshlyscoredlinestohisalreadybatteredwar-plate.Thetwoofthemrockedbacktowardsthecircle,andshefeltthepowerofthewardsoverlapintheair,tearingatherfleshevenassherippedthroughthem.‘Doit!’shetaunted,slappinghimacrosstheface.‘Dowhatyoucametodo!’Heresisted,tryingtotearherapartwithhishands,stillrelyingonthe
immeasurablestrengthinhispost-humanmusculature.Lermentaspatathim,andtheacidicspittlecloggedinhiseye.Thatdidit.‘Barbaroí!’heroared,andtherunesetchedaroundthechamberflaredintolife.
Ahotwindsuddenlyhowledfromthecentreofthecircles,snatchingatherrevealedtrueformandharrowingit.‘Gharáz!Baghammon’echzhaza!’Shecouldn’thelpbutscream,thoughthepainwasmingledwithacold
satisfactionatwhatshehadprovoked.Mortarionkeptupthechant,andnowhisfist-strikes,spirallingwithwarp-
lightning,causedrealdamage.Hesmashedherbackagainsttheironframethathadheldher,andtheblowsdroveintohercarapacedstomach.‘Soitcomesforyouatlast,’shehissedthroughbloodiedfangs,grinning.
‘Youcouldnotresist.’Thegloriousstinkoflearnedsorceryandhedge-magickwasnowpungentand
inescapable.Itwaswithinhim,andhewasusingit,inspiteofeveryprotestation.‘Nevermockme,’Mortariongrowled,sprayingspittlefromtheventsofhis
rebreather.‘Heijammeka!Nevergoadme!’Lermentasaggedbackagainstthewall,feelinghersoulpulledbackintothe
empyrean.Theprimarchwascrunchinghertopiecesnow,hammeringfuriouslywithhisfists,pouringoutallofhisfuryontoherbrokenphysicalshell.Itwashardnottobeawedbyit–shewasthefirsttoseeafragmentofwhathewouldeventuallybecome.Here,abovetheburningremainsofTerathalion,wasthefutureoftheDeath
Lordbeingborn.Andsoasshedied,andherquintessentialmattersuckeditselfbackintothe
mawoftheaether,shemanagedamocksalute.‘Hail,MasterofthePlague!’shecriedthroughtheruinofherjaws.‘Bythegods,youlearnfast.’Thenthemortaluniverserippedaway,andthewarpcamerushingoverher
likeatide.
MortarionstoodoverLermenta’scrushedform,breathingheavily.Hecouldsmelltheichoruponhisgauntlets.Itwasn’tblood,howeveritstainedjustasrichly.Hisheartswerebeatingasone,thoughthecombathadsickenedhim.He
wantedtovomit,toexpelthecurdlingsicknessthathungheavilyinhisstomach.Butherewassomethingelsethere,too.HerememberedMalcador’spromises;
thesmoothwordsspoken,soitseemed,anageago.Adaywillcomewhenallthesethingsarenolongernecessary.TheSigillitehadbeenwrongaboutthat,eitherlyingormistaken.Thatday
wouldnevercomenow,andtherewasnopointpretendingotherwise.Perhapsalltheoldcertaintieswouldhavetobeoverturnednow,eventheoldest,forgedinthegas-cloudsofthefoundlingworldhehadbothlovedandhated.Heremembered,too,thewordsthathehadspoken.IwillneverserveinyourCrusadewhiletherearewitchesamongus.Fortoolong,hehadbeenusedbyallsides–Nikaeahadbeenandgone,and
thepromisesmadeforithadallbeenhollow.Thevoidnowseethedwithwitchery,morevirulentthanever,andhecouldfeelitstendrilsgraspingforhim.Helookeddownattheetchedfloor,atthewardsandthesymbolsandthe
runes.Hewouldhavetolearnmore.Hewouldhavetomasterallthepathsofruin.Hewould,asperhapshehadknownforalongtimenow,havetobecometheverythingthathehadalwayshated.‘Sobeit,’hegrowled,retreatingbacktothecentreofthearcanecircle.‘It
startshere.’
ABOUTTHEAUTHOR
ChrisWraightistheauthoroftheHorusHeresynovelScars,thenovellaBrotherhoodoftheStormandtheaudiodramaTheSigillite.ForWarhammer40,000hehaswrittentheSpaceWolvesnovelsBloodofAsaheimandStormcaller,andtheshortstorycollectionWolvesofFenris,aswellastheSpaceMarineBattlesnovelsWrathofIronandBattleoftheFang.Additionally,hehasmanyWarhammernovelstohisname,includingtheTimeofLegendsnovelMasterofDragons,whichformspartoftheWarofVengeanceseries.Chrislivesand
worksnearBristol,insouth-westEngland.
SenttowipeoutthelastsurvivorsofadownedImperialFistsvessel,DeathGuardChaplainMurnauunleashesoneofhisLegion’smost
deadlyweapons–theDestroyers.
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