God machines, p.114
God-Machines, page 114
If that is so, why hide his purpose from the Lady Tan Draconis?
Inquisitors need tell no one their plans, those of faith must simply trust.
Oh, but we trusted before, didn’t we? the ghosts disagreed. So often trust is met with duplicity. What if he is a threat to this world?
Always trust an inquisitor.
Never trust an inquisitor…
‘Approaching the Shifting Pass in five miles,’ voxed Lady Nualah, interrupting the ghostly clamour in Jennika’s mind.
‘Target remains stationary,’ said Sacristan Traxin. ‘Distance now two-point-six-three miles and closing.’
‘It’s time we received answers,’ said Jennika.
‘Do you truly believe he means us ill, my lady?’ asked Sire Eduard. ‘We have shown him nothing but fealty and honour.’
‘If not, why lie?’ replied Sire Reith. ‘He would have had us believe Lady Tan Draconis dead, and left us standing like fools while he vanished into the night.’
‘I want to believe that his intent is pure,’ said Jennika. ‘But for all we know he is a servant of the Dark Gods himself.’
‘Surely not,’ exclaimed Lady Nualah. ‘The Emperor wouldn’t allow such a thing.’
‘The Emperor allowed Donatos,’ said Reith bitterly.
‘All I know,’ said Jennika, ‘is that I feel as though I have been playing regicide blindfold these past few days. It is time for clear sight, no matter what it reveals.’
‘Reading weapons discharge at the inquisitor’s location,’ warned Traxin. ‘Substantial life-signs.’
‘Orks,’ said Jennika. ‘Hurry.’
She fed more power to her motive actuators, attitude runes flickering to orange as she pushed her steed as fast as it would go. Ahead, the flanks of the mountains reared huge and grey, and the pass sat shrouded in darkness. The light of the dawn had not pierced its shadows yet.
The inquisitor’s Charger was a wreck. Its cab had been sheared away, and lay on its roof. The main body of the vehicle listed to one side, riddled with bullet holes.
Jennika took in the scene as she approached. Her augmented cerebrum cogitated at superhuman speed, spitting out tactical manoeuvres and targeting solutions in the blink of an eye. Massata and what remained of his retinue were trapped in the wreck of their transport. They leant out from their scant cover, guns blazing as they tried to drive off the ork horde encircling them. It wasn’t a huge warband. A few dozen greenskins with scrap-iron guns made up the bulk of it, supported by a band of bikers that circled the wreck in a whooping mob, and a couple of artillery pieces overseen by a grizzled ork of prodigious size.
It was more than enough to see Massata and his followers dead.
‘Nualah,’ said Jennika. ‘Knock out the long guns. Eduard, Reith, crush the infantry. I’ll take the bikes. Caution, Knights. No one harms the inquisitor.’
Assent runes flashed on her retinal display. The orks saw the towering war engines coming, and reacted with what looked bizarrely like glee. As their leathery overseer bellowed orders, gretchin frantically swivelled their artillery pieces to bear. Rockets leapt from the carapace mount of Nualah’s steed and detonated in their midst, blasting the guns and their crews into scrap and corpses.
At the same time, Sire Eduard and Sire Reith opened fire, Draconis and Pegasson fighting together to exterminate the ork threat. As the greenskins vanished amidst blossoming explosions, Jennika turned her battle cannon on the ork Bikers. The greenskins swerved in her direction, and a blizzard of heavy shells hammered her shield as they charged. Jennika ignored the damage reports as rounds broke through to dent her steed’s armour and punch through secondary systems. She led her targets, as she had once taught Danial to do, then fired.
Two heavy thumps. Two shells soared through the air. Explosions flashed one after the other, twin blasts that sent ork bikes tumbling through the air aflame. Greenskin corpses bounced and rolled to a stop, and as the smoke cleared nothing remained of the Biker mob but burning wrecks and mangled bodies.
‘That was the easy part,’ said Jennika, seeing that her comrades her made short work of the xenos warband. ‘Now for the real battle. I would ask you to keep your own counsel, Sires and Lady. I will handle this. Remember, this man is still an inquisitor. We will not make an enemy of him unless we must.’
The Knights came to a halt, looming over the remains of the inquisitor’s transport. Jennika dismounted, seeing that Massata had emerged and was waiting for her amidst the heaped corpses of the orks. Sergeant Kaston and Interrogator Nesh flanked him, both looking worse for wear. At their backs, Lintiguis Mortens hunched in the rear hatch of the hauler, and Jennika noted the heavy tome he clutched to his chest.
Slowly, deliberately, she drew her blade and walked to meet Massata.
‘Lady Tan Draconis,’ he said. ‘I am glad that you live, but disappointed to see that your warriors have abandoned their vigil.’
‘Inquisitor Massata,’ said Jennika. ‘They remained for as long as they did only because of a lie that you told them. I do not appreciate having false last words put in my mouth.’
‘A necessary deception,’ said Massata, and if he felt any shame at being caught out, Jennika didn’t hear it. ‘Without it, I believed they would have rushed into the ruins in search of you, and thus risked Imperial lives for nothing.’
‘Unlike you,’ she said, glancing pointedly at Mortens. The scribe looked shame-faced, and shrunk further into shadow. ‘For that book, I assume, you have risked many lives, including mine. Is it not so?’
‘Not just risked, but lost,’ said Massata. ‘Venquist, Shanema, Shemara, all dead. D’bu’ko is barely clinging to his life. You, I thought, and many others. Not one unworthy martyr, I assure you, my lady.’
‘For a book?’ asked Jennika, stopping before Massata. She studied his body language, noting his hand moving carefully towards the haft of his axe, the forced relaxation in the postures of his followers. They were ready for a fight.
‘It is not just “a book”,’ said Massata. ‘It is a mighty weapon in the war against the Emperor’s enemies. A grimoire that will allow me to at last defeat a dreadful foe. That tome contains the true name of the daemon responsible for Donatos, and a dozen other atrocities besides. He who holds a daemon’s true name can destroy the fiend.’
‘Inquisitor, I will be frank,’ said Jennika. ‘I believe that you came to this world not to aid us, but to do us harm. You omitted word of this grimoire, and lied to gain our trust and aid. What else have you lied about? What are you here to do? Are you really a servant of the Emperor, or just another emissary of the Dark Gods who comports himself as a faithful man?’
Massata glanced up at the sky, streaked now with rose-tinted clouds. He looked back at Mortens, and the book he clutched to his chest.
He sighed, and shook his head.
‘I admit, my lady, that I have not told you the entire truth,’ he said. ‘But now, at this desperate hour, what harm is there? I believe I owe you, at the least, an explanation. My retinue and I came to Adrastapol long before we met. We have been here for years, watching, hidden, gauging your peoples’ intent. Judging their guilt or innocence.’
Jennika’s expression became dangerously neutral.
‘A trial held in secret?’ she asked. ‘Without our knowledge, without honour?’
‘Your world produced two Noble Houses riddled with heresy,’ said Massata. ‘Frankly, my lady, if Adrastapol had been a hive world, it would likely have been purged without a second thought. But Knights are valuable military assets, considered on a par with Space Marines by many. You were to be given a chance. But considering the duplicity that had been wrought by Houses Chimaeros and Wyvorn, and the entity from which Alicia Kar Manticos derived her power, I considered it too dangerous to openly show my hand lest the agents of Chaos were alerted to my presence.’
‘So, you lied to us,’ said Jennika. She saw the sense of his words, but her Knightly conditioning ran deep. Everything about such dishonest conduct was repugnant to her. She fought to keep her anger in check.
‘A man who knows he is watched, knows what he must hide,’ said Massata. ‘Besides, if I am honest I had already made up my mind. I sought only confirmation of your guilt, and an opportunity to acquire the grimoire from which the sorceress Alicia gained so much power. Adrastapol enjoyed a stay of execution while I sought that tome, nothing more. I had a plan in place, men in position amongst the Wardens ready to allow me access.’
‘That was how you knew of the corruption below Chimaerkeep,’ said Jennika.
‘Yes,’ said Massata. ‘I was unsure of how to proceed, for I did not know how great a threat I would face while recovering the grimoire. Any course of action seemed likely to tip my hand, and leave me open to any heretics lurking upon this world. Then, an opportunity presented itself.’
‘An opportunity?’ asked Jennika, feeling a horrible suspicion rising like bile at the back of her throat. ‘What opportunity?’
‘The orks,’ said Massata.
‘The orks,’ repeated Jennika, her knuckles white on the haft of her sword. ‘How?’
‘I did not lie about my battleship,’ said Massata. ‘But the Light of Truth is very much intact. On my order, Captain Raniaraz ran a masterful campaign of strike-and-retreat actions to bait the orks while my agents and I laid our preparations upon Adrastapol. She and her sister ships baited the xenos, leading them towards the Majestis System.’
‘You brought this scourge upon our world?’ asked Jennika. ‘And yet you can still meet my eye?’
‘Of course,’ said Massata. ‘I serve the Emperor, to expunge the evil that Varakh’Lorr began, and Alicia Kar Manticos propagates even now. The orks were to be my distraction, keeping your people occupied, allowing me to appear as the bearer of a dire warning and acquire just enough aid to facilitate my ends beneath Chimaerkeep. I would then locate and reawaken the lander that my retinue concealed several years ago in the Valley of High Kings. It was my intent that the ship would carry us and the grimoire to safety, piloted by Sergeant Kaston, shortly before Captain Raniaraz launches the cyclonic torpedoes that I ordered made ready before my departure.’
Jennika’s mind reeled.
Cyclonic torpedoes.
‘Exterminatus…’ she breathed.
‘I am sorry, my lady,’ said Massata. ‘Yes.’
Jennika imagined herself swing her blade, imagined herself cutting the inquisitor’s head from his shoulder. She could do it, she knew. She could strike the blow before Kaston or Nesh could stop her. He had signed her world’s death warrant, and there he stood, calmly admitting the deed.
Instead she took a slow, deep breath, steadying her shaking hands and sheathing her blade.
‘Inquisitor Massata,’ Jennika said in her most formal courtly address. ‘You have erred, and I believe that you know it. You have passed false judgement upon the Emperor’s behalf. You have committed a terrible sin in his name.’
‘This world harboured heretics and daemon worshippers,’ said Massata. ‘There is no judgement too severe for such a crime.’
‘We destroyed those heretics,’ said Jennika. ‘We slew all who consorted with the Dark Gods. We passed our own judgement in the Emperor’s name. You have seen us as we truly are, inquisitor, so you must know that if the Knights of Draconis, Pegasson and Minotos committed any sin it was only that of believing that our allies were as honourable as we were ourselves. It was a sin of honour, of trust. I do not care how you justify your actions here, inquisitor. By them, you have made us guilty of that same sin again, and I believe you will be every bit as damned as Chimaeros and Wyvorn for it. You claim you seek to combat the evil of Alicia Kar Manticos. I say you serve it.’
‘Lord,’ said Sergeant Kaston. ‘Perhaps–’
‘Silence!’ thundered Massata. ‘My verdict has already been passed!’
‘Yet you doubt yourself,’ said Jennika, locking eyes with Massata. ‘Why else did you insist upon my accompanying you into the ruins?’
‘I told you, I did not know the scale of the threat,’ said Massata. ‘Everything I have observed told me that you were amongst this world’s most capable warriors. I brought you along as another blade, nothing more.’
‘I don’t believe that, and neither do you,’ said Jennika. ‘You brought me with you because you knew that your judgement is false. You wanted me to react, to reveal something down there in the grave of House Chimaeros that would prove you right or wrong, one way or another.’
‘I am the Emperor’s arbiter and I have no room for mercy or doubt,’ growled Massata, hefting his axe. ‘My work remains undone, and you are keeping me from it. If I do not reach the lander in time, then all this will have been for nothing.’
‘If you go through with this, then you make yourself an implement not of the Emperor, but of the Dark Gods,’ said Jennika. ‘But if you are so certain in your judgement, then who am I as a loyal servant of the Emperor to question your word?’
She dropped to her knees before him, ignoring the angry cries of her Knights through her vox-bead.
‘I submit myself to your judgement, Inquisitor Massata,’ she said, baring her neck. ‘If it is to be execution, then let it start with me. I will not resist the Emperor’s justice, and neither will my people.’
Massata loomed over her, axe in hand, his expression grim. The inquisitor’s henchmen stared, clearly unused to seeing such emotion from their master. Jennika’s heart thumped steadily. In her mind, she offered up a simple prayer.
The axe fell from Massata’s grip, and thumped to the ground. Dawn light gleamed along its blade.
‘Very well,’ said Massata, and it was as though he dredged the words up from the deepest depths within him. ‘Perhaps I judged poorly, or was too puritan in my approach. Fear forced my hand, and so I erred. By your brave example you shame me, lady.’
To his followers’ amazement, Massata reached down and gripped Jennika by the shoulders, raising her up to stand before him.
‘I can offer you nothing but my heartfelt apologies, however,’ he said. ‘It is too late. By my chron, there is less than a day-cycle remaining before Raniaraz enacts my last command.’
‘Cancel the exterminatus,’ said Jennika.
‘I cannot,’ said Massata. ‘It must be my voice that issues the command, and to do that I would require high-gain orbital vox. The invasion, the war, has fouled the atmosphere. My vox is useless.’
‘Adrastapol hasn’t endured thousands of years of war against the enemies of the Emperor only to be destroyed by His own servants,’ said Jennika fiercely. ‘You said you had a shuttle, yes?’
‘I do,’ said Massata. ‘An Aquila Lander, perhaps forty miles due south. But by the time I got into orbit and evaded the ork ships–’
‘No,’ interrupted Jennika impatiently. ‘The Draconspire! You’ll find your orbital vox there. You can call off the attack, and command your ships to join the fight instead. You can make this right, inquisitor.’
Massata was still for a long moment. In her mind, Jennika prayed as fervently to the Emperor as she ever had in her life.
‘Yes,’ said Massata at last. ‘Yes, you are right. Any other course would only serve the daemon’s ends.’
‘And if this grimoire truly can lay low Alicia Kar Manticos and whatever horror she serves, then I swear to you that you will have the aid of the Knights of Adrastapol in your fight,’ said Jennika. ‘Now get your warriors aboard Traxin’s Crawler, quickly. We will need your directions to reach the lander.’
‘Of course,’ said Massata, then he paused. ‘I have slain greater personages than you for speaking to me as you did today, Lady Tan Draconis,’ he said. ‘I commend your bravery, and your honour for helping me to see the error of my ways.’
‘Save your thanks, inquisitor,’ said Jennika. ‘I’ll accept them after we rescue Adrastapol.’
Luk stared hard through his magnoculars, fighting down the dread he felt at the sight before him.
‘We thought the Iron Maze was in a poor state,’ said Ekhaterina. ‘This is…’
‘Catastrophe,’ said Luk, heavily.
They lay on the crest of a grassy rise, staring east across the Valatane towards the burning Draconspire. Several of Gesmund’s men crouched nearby, relaying their findings via a bulky vox set to Lauret Tan Pegasson and Kurt Tan Minotos. The Vesserines’ Taurox idled at the bottom of the slope, waiting to bear them back to where the Knightly force was marshalling on the Valatane.
‘Is anyone still alive in there?’ asked Ekhaterina. Luk shook his head, appalled.
‘I don’t know, my lady,’ he said.
The Draconspire he remembered was no more. Surrounded by a seething ocean of orks, what remained was a blasted ruin. Some of its spires and towers had toppled like felled olidarnes, crushing the other walls and structures beneath their weight. The ravaged battlements were festooned with corpses on spikes and ork glyph-banners, and slain steeds could be seen sprawled amidst the ruin, being picked apart by industrious greenskins. Hordes of xenos rampaged around the ruins, pouring in through rents in the Draconspire’s defences.
More banners rose from the Northrise Battery, and there Luk saw a gathering of the biggest ork walkers he had seen yet.
‘Look,’ said Luk, pointing. ‘They’re not attacking Northrise. I’d guess it’s already theirs. But they’re still marching on the Draconspire.’
‘Meaning there’s still someone in there for them to fight,’ said Ekhaterina, grinning and clapping him on the shoulder. ‘Your friends may be alive, Luk!’
‘I hope so, Lady Hespar,’ he said. ‘Either way, someone is still fighting, and if that’s the case then it’s our duty to come to their aid.’
‘Besides,’ she said, ‘that certainly looks like the sort of banner I’d have if I was a filthy great xenos warlord, so Gorgrok must still be present. And clearly, for us to prevail here and be about our hunt again, the warlord must die.’
