The Unforgiven - Gav Thorpe Read online

  ‘I made no accusation of improper conduct,’ answered the Master of Repentance. ‘The knowledge of Cypher’s presence must be closely contained, as Brother Sapphon attests. To this purpose, Tybalain and his warriors must be sequestered from their battle-brothers. I am confident Malcifer can accommodate this without remark or incident.’

  ‘Astelan has escaped.’ Belial’s statement was quietly spoken but loaded with a cutting edge. ‘This is a grave failure by the Second Company.’

  ‘A terrible consequence of planning and opportunism,’ Sapphon said quickly, before Sammael responded to the barbed comment.

  ‘Brought about by your entanglements with Astelan,’ continued Belial. ‘I take no pleasure in acknowledging that I warned against this ill-devised endeavour.’

  ‘A matter that you can bring up with the Supreme Grand Master,’ said Sapphon.

  Asmodai had been in the chamber last, the objects on the table as ordered and regimented as his thoughts. The Master of Sanctity absent-mindedly moved a few things, rearranging the autoquills and piles of data-crystal wafers into a fan pattern. Belial’s condemnation did not concern him. Once Azrael was made aware of all the circumstances of the operation he would acquit Sapphon of any misdemeanours. To do otherwise would undermine Sapphon’s position and give Asmodai tacit free rein to impose his divisive policies on the Inner Circle and the rest of the Chapter.

  ‘Or perhaps a matter that I will seek to settle personally,’ continued Belial, ‘in a duel upon our return to the Tower of Angels.’

  Sapphon stopped his toying, the Grand Master’s threat disturbing. ‘By rite, such an event would be held in view of the Chapter. How would we explain the rift between two senior officers? No. It is not possible. It would compromise the sanctity of the Hunt. I forbid any challenge being issued on this subject and will censure any of you that seek such recourse.’

  ‘We stray from the purpose of this conclave,’ Sammael interjected. ‘If you wish to test authority or blade with each other, please do so without my involvement. Our assault will launch in twenty-seven minutes and there remain many preparations to undertake. The Tharsians are assembling and awaiting my command. Is there any further matter that requires my attention?’

  ‘Our involvement is no longer required,’ said Asmodai. ‘The longer we remain on Tharsis, the more precarious our hold on the details of this expedition. Our presence will prompt questions not easily answered, and we must not forget that a sizeable traitor fleet remains in the system, even if they appear to be withdrawing.’

  ‘We cannot abandon Tharsis,’ Belial replied. ‘We will not.’

  ‘We cannot save every world, brother,’ said Sapphon. ‘The Hunt, this prisoner, must take priority over all other concerns.’

  ‘This world has been placed in jeopardy by your actions, Sapphon. We drew the renegades to this system. We ignited the fire of war, and it falls to us to douse it before we depart.’

  ‘I concur with Brother Sapphon,’ said Asmodai. ‘We have courted disaster too many times on this campaign. Our surest course of action must be to secure the two Fallen we have in custody and return to the Tower of Angels for their interrogation.’

  ‘They pose no threat,’ argued Sammael. ‘We must remain as long as required to deter the traitor legionaries of the second fleet. The moment they sense that we are leaving, they will surely return.’

  ‘It is not our two strike cruisers that dissuade their assault,’ Sapphon replied tersely. ‘They came to Tharsis expecting welcome. They find themselves faced with a fully operational orbital defence system. Whatever prize they sought here, they hoped to obtain through the blood of Anovel and his followers, not their own. They will not be returning.’

  ‘And Astelan?’ said Belial. ‘You cannot truly believe it is wise to leave him loose on the world he once brought to the brink of ruin with his tyranny?’

  ‘We can learn nothing from him, and the pursuit would continue to expose us.’

  ‘I detest the notion that we would knowingly allow any of the Fallen to escape, but I agree,’ said Asmodai, to Sapphon’s surprise. ‘Cypher’s excruciation and repentance, the secrets he will reveal to us, will be an unparalleled achievement for the Chapter. The future success of the Hunt may rest on his testimony.’

  ‘We cannot ignore his claim that there exists a direct threat to the Chapter. We have not yet fully uncovered the extent of the plan we thwarted today. There will be further repercussions and we must consult with the rest of the Inner Circle,’ Sapphon replied.

  ‘Your hearing appears to be hampered, brothers,’ said Belial, more forcefully than Sapphon had heard in many years. ‘I will not leave Tharsis to an uncertain fate. Too often in these past months we have vacillated, compromised and allowed ourselves to be blinded to certain truths. The Deathwing will conclude the battle, alone if necessary, to ensure Tharsis’s continued prosperity.’

  Unseen by the others, Sapphon shook his head, angered by Belial’s defiance. It was unlike the Deathwing commander to gainsay the desires of the Chaplains. Now was the most inopportune time for him to declare he served a higher calling.

  ‘The Ravenwing will also not shirk the fight ahead,’ said Sammael. ‘We have lost brothers whose memory and sacrifice should be honoured with laurels of victory, not hidden in the dusty chronicles of the Inner Circle. Master Belial is right, there are clear foes to destroy and a war to be won. This is the reason for which we were created.’

  ‘Your reticence is noted, brothers,’ said Asmodai.

  ‘As is your attempted disregard for the protocols of command, Master of Repentance,’ Belial replied with a growl in his voice. ‘The First and Second Companies answer to us, not the denizens of the Reclusiam. I would expect such behaviour from Sapphon, but I am disappointed in you, Asmodai. I thought you would desire the prosecution of the enemy.’

  ‘There is no greater priority than the Hunt, Master of the Deathwing,’ Asmodai spat back. ‘Your disappointment is a burden for you to carry, it is as nothing to me.’

  ‘Let us not end with dissent, brothers,’ said Sammael. ‘We all wish swift conclusion to this campaign, which has taxed mettle and courage equally. Night will bring victory, I am sure. Let us see what fresh insight the dawn heralds.’

  There was a chorus of agreement, reluctant from Sapphon, a single grunt of assent from Asmodai. One by one they broke the vox-link, leaving Sapphon in quiet reflection.

  The Captive

  If he looked to his left, to the north, Annael could just make out the armoured column. Tanks and personnel carriers painted in muted brown and green camouflage flew Tharsian pennants from their aerials. They followed the arrow-straight highway into the wilderness, hidden from view by the hills and undulations of the countryside.

  Most of the traitor invaders had been hunted down, but there were still pockets of resistance, some very well armed and consisting of the chemically-boosted and cybernetically enhanced soldiers that had led the attack on Tharsis. Tybalain and his Black Knights were acting as outriders for the tank column heading towards a concentration of enemies that had taken over a town a dozen kilometres north of the capital.

  Annael flanked the advance to the east with Calatus, while Tybalain and Nerean patrolled to the west. Land Speeders in the black of the Ravenwing scouted ahead, seeking possible ambushes. So far there had been only the odd straggler, easily dealt with, but Annael remained alert.

  ‘Nowhere to run to, no chance of surrendering, these rebels will fight to the last, mark my words,’ said Calatus, riding a hundred metres ahead of Annael. ‘What have they got to live for?’

  ‘Not all soldiers have such purpose,’ said Annael. ‘I discussed as much with Sabrael, back on Port Imperial. That was when his disobedience almost got me killed, but I would gladly accept that sacrifice now if it would return him to the company.’

  ‘You would rather be dead and Sabrael alive?’ Calatu
s slowed slightly, allowing Annael to catch up. ‘He abandoned you, brother, and you know he would not wish the same.’

  ‘I think you are wrong. The events on Thyestes changed him. Sobered his mood a little.’

  ‘Too little. He still disobeyed Tybalain’s command and paid for his infraction with his life.’

  ‘Perhaps he was right to attack. Did he not embody the spirit of the Ravenwing more than any of us?’

  ‘He was foolhardy and self-interested, traits that belong in no Space Marine.’

  ‘But as a bladesman and a rider, he excelled. A far better warrior than I, his loss would be counted the greater of the two of us.’

  ‘Not by me,’ insisted Calatus. ‘You ride by my side and I trust that you will guard my back as a battle-brother is supposed to. Sabrael was unreliable, and that makes him a lesser warrior in my eyes.’

  Their discussion was curtailed by the sight of a group of buildings ahead, flanking the highway. Huntmaster Tybalain called the Black Knights together and sent word to the armoured column to halt until the small settlement had been investigated.

  ‘Sable Hunter, Swiftclaw, keep your distance,’ Tybalain transmitted to the pair of Land Speeders. ‘Encircle and recon, do not engage unless attacked.’

  The gunners of the anti-grav speeders signalled their affirmatives and swept onwards. Under the guidance of their drivers, the Land Speeders peeled apart three hundred metres from the settlement to conduct their scans from opposite flanks. Tybalain raised a fist and gestured for the Black Knights to split to a fifty-metre spread, advancing slowly while the Land Speeders conducted their sweep.

  The auspex of Annael’s steed, Black Shadow, showed around two dozen buildings. The site appeared to be a marshalling yard of sorts, two slipways from the main highway running down ramps into a group of warehouses and living quarters. A small air-dock stood three hundred metres from the road, a cargo-lifter still on the elevated apron. High cranes crisscrossed the entire site thirty metres above.

  ‘Lookouts on the gantries,’ reported Brother Casamir, pilot of the Swiftclaw. ‘Possibly marksmen, no weapons visible yet.’

  On Annael’s display three red runes blinked into existence, highlighted through the linked telemetry of the Ravenwing vehicles. He looked up at the cab of the nearest crane and focused. His helm’s auto-senses took over from his natural sight and magnified the view directly into his optic nerve.

  There was a man hunkered down in the cab. Sunlight glinted on glass as he swept his magnoculars after one of the Land Speeders. He appeared to be wearing some kind of facemask, but as the resolution of the auto-senses improved Annael saw that the whiteness was pale, dead skin, the tangle of pipes he had taken to be a respirator dangling directly from the lookout’s flesh.

  ‘Augmetics and bionics,’ he reported. ‘Definitely enemy.’

  ‘Heat traces indicate thirty-plus more targets within the buildings,’ said Brother Teraphiel on the Sable Hunter.

  ‘Pull back! Pull back!’ To the east, the Swiftclaw rose rapidly, its anti-grav engines propelling it backwards so that Casamir’s gunner could keep the heavy bolter and chin-mounted assault cannon pointing at the enemy. ‘Heavy weapons spotted. Missile launchers and some kind of bipod-mounted projectile weapon.’

  To the west the Sable Hunter also backed away, the missile pods of its Typhoon launchers directed towards the marshalling yard.

  ‘I’m detecting a short-range transmission,’ said Nerean. ‘Origin point somewhere in those buildings.’

  ‘I have it too,’ said Annael, noticing a spike on the radio reception monitor of Black Shadow’s display. He tuned his vox in to the frequency.

  ‘…and we will not hesitate in killing him.’ The voice was distorted but of a register that made it plain the speaker was a woman. ‘You hear me, dogs of the Lion? We have one of your ill-fated sons and we will kill him if you do not withdraw. I am Neira Kamata, the new commander of the Divine Army. The misbegotten Dark Angels have one hour to withdraw their forces from our world or we will slay the hostage. Do not underestimate…’

  Annael’s vox switched back to the squad channel on an override from Tybalain.

  ‘A lie, I am sure,’ said the Huntmaster. ‘A desperate lie.’

  ‘What do we do?’ asked Teraphiel as the Sable Hunter circled the highway, moving out in a spiral to join with the Swiftclaw. ‘It’s an outrageous claim if they are bluffing. They have to know we can verify the status of every battle-brother.’

  ‘It matters not if it is truth or bluff,’ declared Tybalain. ‘We will teach these traitors that this is a war, not a barter. They cannot negotiate their way out of chastisement.’

  ‘So, we attack?’ said Calatus.

  ‘We attack,’ replied Tybalain. ‘Sword Four, are you receiving?’

  ‘Affirmative, Huntmaster. We are on support stand-by. Do you require a strike?’

  ‘Transmitting coordinates. Designating target Alpha. Full authority strike on Alpha.’

  ‘Data received. Incoming to target. Three minutes until strike.’

  Tybalain signalled for them to stop and Annael turned to look south-east, where he knew the Dark Talon fighter assigned to the escort had been patrolling, ready for the strike command. He could see nothing but low cloud for two minutes and then a black speck appeared, quickly resolving into a stub-nosed craft with reverse delta wings. The Dark Talon stooped out of the cloud like a striking hawk, nose aimed at the group of buildings.

  ‘Full attack, follow me!’ cried Tybalain as Sword Four swept in on its run. ‘Terminate all targets. Sable Hunter, Swiftclaw, opportunity strike, all targets.’

  The Ravenwing picked up speed, their heavy bikes making easy work of the relatively smooth ground that flanked the highway. To their left and right the Land Speeders accelerated past, gaining height. The Dark Talon, just two hundred metres up, soared overhead. The rift cannon in its nose crackled and a sphere of warp energy erupted within the buildings ahead, turning the metal legs of a crane into a crumpled mass. The machine toppled sideways and crashed onto the broad roof of a warehouse, smashing through ferrocrete tiles.

  The Typhoon launcher of the Sable Hunter belched fire and smoke. A ripple of missiles streaked towards the marshalling yard. Detonations engulfed the closest building, punching through the thin walls and turning the metal roof to slag. The assault cannon and heavy bolters of the Swiftclaw spewed fire into the crane cabs, taking out the marksmen stationed there.

  Another rift cannon detonation imploded the upper floors of a four-storey habitation block on the road to the landing pad. Sword Four sped over the collapsing building, a dark shape detaching from its hull. The aircraft banked away as the stasis bomb erupted a few metres above the ground, engulfing the centre of the complex in a shimmering time-dampened field.

  ‘I want the leader alive if possible,’ snarled Tybalain as the Black Knights hit the highway. ‘We will teach Neira Kamata the folly of threatening the Sons of the Lion.’

  Following the Huntmaster they skidded onto the roadway ramp down into the eastern portion of the marshalling yard, the plasma talons of their steeds firing bursts of miniature stars into the administration block directly ahead of them. The Land Speeders swept overhead and dived down into the crisscross of ferrocrete and buildings of the western district, their progress heralded by missile detonations, the thrum of heavy bolter fire and assault cannon rounds.

  A yellow and black barrier straddled the road ahead but Tybalain did not slow. He rode straight through it. Reaching level ground, the Huntmaster peeled down a wide road to the left with Nerean, signalling for Annael and Calatus to continue straight ahead.

  The bubble of stasis energy was shrinking, the crackling globe a few dozen metres in front of Annael, almost out of sight behind the buildings. Sword Four had entered hover mode and was strafing left and right, its hurricane bolters unleashing a torrent of fire into the
upper storeys of the surrounding hab-blocks.

  Las-fire flickered down at the pair of Black Knights from a window in the second floor of a warehouse thirty metres ahead. The purple beams flared from the armour of Black Shadow, leaving welts in the paint but no significant damage.

  Annael turned his steed towards the huge doors of the depot and opened fire, blasting a hole in the metal with the bike’s plasma talon. A second plasma ball from Calatus made the gap wide enough for the two to ride directly into the main floor of the building. Just as he plunged into the dark within, Annael drew his bolt pistol, riding one-handed through the gap.

  The ground floor was filled with cargo containers, each ten metres long, three metres high and three wide. Most were stacked in rows, a broad concourse down the middle, but a few had been left strewn haphazardly, apparently dumped as the facility was being evacuated.

  There were figures on top of the container rows, the glint of metal exoskeletons giving them away as they bounded from one stack to the next. Annael lifted his pistol and fired, a salvo of three bolts taking down an augmented soldier on the closest pile. Las-fire replied, bright beams that slashed down to either side of him.

  ‘Divide and conquer, brother,’ said Calatus, slowing to steer his steed down one of the rows while Annael continued up the main aisle.

  Annael fired the plasma talon again, targeting the distant container stacks. The ball of energy smashed into the uppermost container, throwing it into the air in a cloud of twisted shrapnel and molten drops. More las-fire converged on the Ravenwing rider, striking his armour and bike. He turned in the saddle and fired his pistol at the enemy behind him, felling two more, but there were at least another ten sheltering on the high stacks.

  It was time to take a different approach. Accelerating, Annael sped to the end of the artificial causeway, slewing past the abandoned containers in his path. He braked heavily and skidded about at the end, facing the way he had come.

  ‘Sword Four, lock hurricane system to my beacon. Fire for full effect.’