The labyrinth - Richard Ford Read online

  With each death Invictus felt the pall of dread close in further, but he forced himself on. If anyone was to survive this trial and take their place among the Doomed Ones it would be him, and he would let nothing stand in his way.

  Eventually, the six remaining warriors found themselves at the entrance to a wide chamber. Its floor was peppered with huge holes, as though something massive had punched through the solid decking with spiked fists of steel.

  Invictus tentatively led the way, stepping over the threshold of the room as though the floor beyond might burn his bare feet. There did not appear to be any cunning traps awaiting them inside, and Invictus signalled his brothers to follow him as he skirted the edge of one of the great holes. Looking down, he could see that the huge punctured deck disappeared into the darkness below, and a sudden sense of foreboding began to fill him.

  ‘Move quickly,’ he ordered, stepping gingerly between the twisted metal. ‘There is something not right here.’

  It took Invictus scant seconds to realise what had put him on edge - the entire room stank of the same musk as the creature they had slain earlier - but by then it was too late.

  Brother Angustine cried out in alarm, firing wildly with his autogun as a ferocious mutant beast rushed from the dark. The blaring report of automatic fire suddenly filled the room as more of the creatures began to pour in from all around. Invictus raised his bolt pistol, ready to add his own stream of fire to the deluge, when another of the creatures burst from the shadows ahead. He immediately altered his sightline, squeezing hard on the trigger three times. Each shot hit its target, bursting against the mutant’s face, explosive rounds mashing flesh and pulping bone with each deafening impact. But even as one assailant fell, Invictus was attacked by a second that leapt at him from above. He swung his pistol around, letting off a sweeping volley of fire, but it was not enough to stop the mutant’s wild lunge. It smashed into him, gripping him tightly with razor claws and snapping its fangs at his throat. Invictus fell back, his hands barely grasping at the beast’s jaws in time to stop it tearing out his throat, but as he did so he lost his footing, falling back into the void as he and the mutant were pitched into one of the huge holes.

  All he could hear as the shadows enveloped him was the desperate sound of his remaining battle-brothers fighting valiantly for their lives…

  HIS EYES FLICKED open, suddenly assailed by the intermittent blinking of another defective spotlight. Lifting a hand to his head, Invictus could feel blood caking the side of his face. He had fallen Malice-knew how far, and struck his head on something solid. There was no telling how long he had been unconscious.

  Panic suddenly gripped him as he realised he had lost his weapon. His mutant attacker could be anywhere, even now stalking him, readying itself to pounce. He leapt to his feet, eyes scanning desperately for something he could use as a weapon, and instantly he saw there was little need for alarm.

  The room he had fallen into was packed with detritus - sharp edged machinery and torn bulwark panels lay scattered all around. It was only by the grace of Malice that he had not been cut to ribbons by the forest of junk. The mutant he had fallen with, however, had not been so lucky. Its body was impaled by a steel girder, poking up from the pile of scrap metal like a slanted flagpole. The end of the torn steel protruded from its mouth, and its black eyes stared vacantly. It looked almost pitiful.

  There was silence above - Invictus’s battle-brothers had either perished, or moved on, thinking him lost. From here he would have to proceed alone.

  Making a quick search of the surrounding junk, Invictus managed to retrieve the bolt pistol, and then set about trying to locate an exit from the stifling chamber.

  As he scrabbled around in the dark something reached out, grasping his wrist and holding the bolt pistol firmly. Invictus stretched out with his free hand, keen to halt the mutant’s jaws before they could clamp themselves around his throat, but he suddenly stopped as he saw that it was not the baleful eyes of a mutant beast that regarded him from the shadows, but one of his battle-brothers. Though it was no one he recognised, the mark of Malice was plain to see on his upper arm. But that was not all - his skin was marred by sores, and his face had taken on a feral cast. It was plain he was in the early stages of mutation.

  ‘Mercy, brother,’ he said. ‘I mean you no harm.’

  With that he released Invictus’s wrist, but remained in the dark confines of the shadows, seeming to find solace within them.

  Invictus took a wary step backwards, readying himself to raise the bolt pistol at the slightest provocation. ‘What has happened to you?’ he asked.

  ‘The Labyrinth, brother. Prolonged exposure condemns us to this.’ He raised his arm, showing the weeping pustules and fledgling talons. ‘I too volunteered for the Challenge a century ago, heeding the words of our Chapter Master. There were six of us that made it to the portal and what we thought was our victory. But it seems Kathal did not tell us all there is to know about his test. Once the first of us passed through the portal, it ceased to operate for the rest. We were trapped down here, forced to fight for our lives. I am the last of those survivors, but as you can see, survival means nothing. This place is warp-touched. It will not be long before I am one of them.’ He gestured towards the mutant, impaled on the vast spike.

  ‘Then there can be only one victor in this Challenge?’ said Invictus.

  ‘Indeed.’

  ‘Then I must hurry. Is there a way out of this place?’

  His tainted battle-brother beckoned towards the shadows. ‘An exit lies that way. But beware - their hive nestles along that path. It will be impossible to pass.’

  ‘I will find a way,’ Invictus took a step towards the door.

  ‘Before you leave,’ the mutant’s voice sounded almost desperate. ‘Perhaps there is something you could do for me in return…’

  Invictus raised the bolt pistol and fired a single round, exploding his twisted battle-brother’s face. Without a second look, he walked from the metallic bone yard and further into the Labyrinth.

  THE SOUND OF boltgun reports and the stench of promethium emanated from up ahead. Invictus quickened his step, eager to join in the fray, feeling the red mist of his battle haze descending. As he moved along the tunnel the sounds and smells of combat intensified and his heart began to pound with anticipation.

  He could see the desperate skirmish now. Five of his battle-brothers were fighting in a tight corridor, with mutants assailing them from further ahead. Genareas was among them, unleashing a hellish conflagration from the tip of his salvaged flamer. Any beasts that were not instantly immolated were riddled with bolter and autogun fire.

  As Invictus joined his battle-brothers, Genareas looked across and smiled. ‘Where is your squad? Have you lost them so soon?’

  Invictus smiled back. ‘They did not fare as well as I,’ he replied. ‘But I see that you are not without troubles of your own.’

  More ravenous faces appeared at the end of the corridor, rushing towards their doom, and Invictus added the sound of his own bolt pistol to the staccato melody of gunfire.

  ‘There is some kind of lair up ahead,’ Genareas bellowed above the din. ‘It is packed with these creatures. We cannot make it through.’

  ‘Then we will have to go around,’ shouted Invictus, pointing to a sign written in ancient and crumbling script above their heads. Genareas looked up, nodding his agreement as he read the word ”Airlock” on the sign.

  ‘Withdraw,’ ordered Genareas, flooding the corridor with another torrent of liquid flame.

  One by one, the remaining warriors moved back along the passage in short sprints before turning and supporting their battle-brothers’ withdrawal with bursts of fire. Within seconds they were at the airlock, leaving a trail of corrupted bodies in their wake.

  Once all his battle-brothers were inside, Invictus pulled the ancient lever, sealing the outer lock. At once, more of the mutant brood appeared, flinging themselves at the reinforced hatch in their v
oracious attempts to get at the escaping warriors.

  Genareas was already at the airlock controls, reducing the pressure within the room so that they were not blown out into the immaterium once the outer door’s seals were broken. Invictus and his brothers could only watch and wait as the creatures smashed their fists and heads against the toughened plasglass, unyielding in their desire to destroy the warriors inside.

  ‘These beasts are insane,’ said Brother Crassus, staring intently at the mad creatures. ‘They would destroy themselves just to get to us.’

  Invictus laughed. ‘Take a good look. These creatures are what we are destined to become. All but one of us.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked Agon, as Invictus’s words sparked a murmur of doubt from the rest.

  ‘These things were once our brothers, the product of Challenges past. One of them spoke to me - it revealed that only the first of us to the transportation portal will be relayed to safety. The rest will be left behind, left to the vagaries of the warp.’

  The warriors began to eye one another warily, unsure of how to take the news.

  ‘We should discuss this later,’ said Genareas. ‘For now, I would suggest a deep breath and a tight grip.’

  With that there came a sharp hiss, as the outer seal of the airlock began to lift, revealing the stark oblivion of the immaterium beyond.

  Genareas was the first to brave the cold vacuum, shouldering his flamer and gripping the corrugated hull of the great ship for dear life. He was closely followed by Agon, then Crassus and Septimon. Invictus looked to Moloch, offering him the next place in line but his battle-brother shook his head, eyeing him suspiciously. With a shrug, Invictus made his way into the void, his fingers gripping hard to the strip of weathered metal that was his only lifeline. Just as Moloch joined him on the outer hull there came an almighty blast of air as the plasglass finally gave way under its vicious assault, depressurising the corridor within and blowing flailing mutants into the immaterium.

  Invictus and his brothers quickly made their way across the hull, with the mutated bodies of what were once proud warriors floating away into the black behind them like so much flotsam.

  Though their mucranoid glands would offer protection against the vacuum it would not last indefinitely, and Invictus felt relief wash over him as he saw Genareas opening another airlock up ahead.

  Genareas and Agon made their way into the ship, and the other warriors quickened their pace along the handrail of the hull. Crassus was next into the airlock and Septimon was about to climb inside when Invictus felt the railing suddenly yield under his weight. The iron bolts securing the rail to the hull began to give way, and separate from the ship’s corrugated surface. Invictus glanced back at Moloch, a wicked plan quickly formulating in his mind. One less rival would take him one step closer to victory, and besides, Moloch had always been his inferior.

  Panic suddenly crossed Moloch’s face as he saw Invictus’s look of loathing.

  Both Space Marines moved faster, desperate to reach the airlock before the railing came free altogether. Invictus managed to grip the inside of the door, feeling a strong hand grasp his wrist. With a last look back at Moloch, he pulled hard on the railing, wrenching the remaining rusted bolts from their housing and sending his battle-brother reeling into the immaterium. Moloch’s mouth opened wide in a silent scream as he floated off, and Invictus was pulled inside to safety.

  The warriors began to breath easily once more as the outer seal was brought down with a hiss. Invictus looked to his brothers and saw that more than one of them was regarding him accusatorially.

  ‘What happened to Moloch?’ said Agon, bringing his autogun to bear.

  ‘Do you accuse me, brother?’ Invictus replied, reaching for the bolt pistol in his belt.

  Before anyone could move, both battle-brothers had aimed their weapons. There was a sudden flurry of movement, as Genareas raised his flamer to point at Agon, and in turn Septimon and Crassus pointed their own weapons at Invictus.

  ‘We have enough enemies without turning on each another,’ said Genareas. ‘If we cull our own numbers there is less chance we will even reach the portal to freedom. Once we find it, then we should allow our strength of arms to decide which of us survives. Until then, we are still brothers, we are still the Sons of Malice.’

  Invictus slowly lowered his bolt pistol, and Agon did the same.

  ‘Well met,’ said Genareas. ‘Let’s get moving. It may not take these creatures long to work out our strategy.’ With that he led the way from the airlock and along yet another seemingly endless tunnel.

  The rest of the warriors followed in his stead, but they all regarded each other with a warier eye than they had previously - especially Invictus.

  THE TUNNEL DIPPED, drawing them ever downward as though into the abyss itself. Invictus knew that to be a ridiculous notion - they were on the foundering carcass of an ancient spaceship, and despite its artificial suspensors giving the illusion of gravity, there was no ”up” or ”down”.

  Nevertheless, they seemed to be drawn deeper into the Labyrinth, and moisture began pooling at their feet. The further they penetrated, the deeper the waters got until they were soon wading waist deep through foetid green sludge.

  Once again, that bellowing voice emanated from some hidden part of the ship, but this time it was much closer. Invictus strained to hear what was being said but he could still not discern the meaning. The phrase consisted of three words, each of a single syllable, howled over and over again. What foul litany, and whatever ancient alien tongue it was in, was impossible to tell, but one thing was for sure - the speaker was no ordinary mortal.

  A sudden scream pierced the tunnel, rising louder than the distant roar, and every man turned as one. It was Crassus, who had been bringing up their rear. The warriors aimed their weapons as their brother was lifted into the air by some unseen hand, his body clearing the water that oozed all around them. Blood spurted from his mouth as he tried to scream once more, his body pierced from behind by a huge, spiked tentacle that burst through his chest and flailed around as though probing for another victim.

  As the lifeless body of Crassus was discarded to sink below the surface of the mire, the squad opened fire, shredding the putrid thing that had impaled their brother. More appendages began to rise from the water all around, blindly searching for prey.

  ‘Retreat,’ yelled Agon. ‘There are too many!’

  Invictus began to wade through the morass as tentacles rose all around. Bolter fire streaked past him as he moved down the tunnel and up ahead he could see the passage rising out of the water to safety. Agon and Septimon fired over his head, pulverising the foul smelling feelers as they reached out towards him, and as Invictus moved past him, Genareas blasted a cloud of molten fire into the corridor.

  The water level around them dropped as they climbed the passageway, but the probing tentacles still relentlessly pursued them. If they could make it through the open doorway ahead they would be free, but as they neared it, a blast hatch began to slowly descend, threatening to trap them in the corridor with the deadly spiked limbs.

  Septimon was the first to the doorway, dropping his weapon and grasping the hatch as it lowered. Invictus could hear the grinding of gears as Septimon’s great strength fought against the ancient mechanism that sought to entomb them.

  Agon was the first through the gap braced open by his brother Septimon, and he was quickly followed by Genareas. As Invictus passed through he gave one last glance to Septimon, his face grimly set as he held open the heavy steel door. Then he was gone, the metal portal slamming down and sealing his brother in with the horde of disembodied tentacles.

  Invictus sat in the dark corridor, panting for air. Genareas offered him his arm, and Invictus gratefully accepted it, rising to his feet, his every fibre seeming to ache.

  ‘Where is Agon?’ said Genareas, glancing down the corridor.

  ‘He must think us near to our goal.’

  ‘And he wishes to c
laim his place amongst the Doomed Ones and leave us to our fate in this place.’

  ‘Then we must hurry,’ Invictus replied, moving off down the passageway.

  With their last reserves of energy, the two warriors pursued their errant brother, and this time it was Invictus who led the way, for once a step in front of Genareas.

  THE PASSAGEWAY GRADUALLY turned and widened into a dark hall, deep shadows cloistering it on either side. Great statues rose upwards from the dark, ancient sentinels that lined the hall, but Invictus paid them no heed, for up ahead was a much more majestic sight.

  A great portal stood at the far end of the massive chamber, fulgurating blue disks dancing up and down its length, tempting Invictus - beckoning him ever closer. But between he and it was the sprinting form of Agon, way ahead, ready to claim the prize that was rightfully his.

  ‘Agon!’ Genareas cried.

  As he neared the portal, Agon stopped, slowly turning with a smile.

  ‘I am truly sorry, my brothers. But it seems I must leave you. I wish you-‘

  Something streaked from the dark, cutting Agon off mid sentence. A huge chitin claw, ancient and battered, gripped him around the waist, lifting him five metres into the air. Agon screamed, blood gurgling from his mouth as the claw squeezed tight. The two halves of his body fell to the ground, innards spilling onto the hard steel decking.

  Then it walked from the shadows.

  Four massive limbs carried its great bulk forward. It was a mass of flesh and steel, metal plates cauterised to a body of seething blubber. Two great claws reached out to the fore and clacked together menacingly. But it was the head that was the most hideous - a twisted, bloated replica of a face that might once have been human, but was now so savage and malign as to be almost unrecognisable.

  As Invictus watched in horror, its great jaws opened and it bellowed forth its incessant call.