False Gods

nothing of

that, but in one lodge I found what I believe might be our only hope of saving the Warmaster,’

Despite himself, Aximand became caught up in Ere-bus's words, his oratory worthy of the iterators, with the precise modulation of tone and timbre to entrance his audience.

Tell us!' shouted Luc Sedirae.

The lodge took up the cry until Serghar Targost was forced to restore order with a bellowed command.

'We must take the Warmaster to the Temple of the Ser­pent Lodge on Davin,’ declared Erebus. The priests there are skilled in the mystic arts of healing, and I believe they offer the best chance of saving the Warmaster,’

'Mystic arts?' asked Aximand. What does that mean? It sounds like sorcery,’

'I do not believe it is,’ said Erebus, rounding on him, 'but what if it was, Brother Horus? Would you refuse their aid? Would you allow the Warmaster to die just so we can feel pure? Is the Warmaster's life not worth a little risk?'

'Risk, yes? But this feels wrong,’

Wrong would be not doing all that we could to save the commander,’ said Targost.

'Even if it means tainting ourselves with impure mag-ick?'

'Don't get all high and mighty, Aximand,’ said Targost. We do this for the Legion. There is no other choice'

Then is it. already decided?' demanded Aximand, pushing past Erebus to stand in the centre of the circle. 'If so, then why this charade of debate? Why bother even summoning us here?'

Maloghurst limped from Targost's side and shook his head. We must all be in accord here, Brother Horus. You know how the lodge operates. If you do not agree to this, then we will go no further and the Warmaster will remain here, but he will die if we do nothing. You know that to be true,’

'You cannot ask this of me,’ pleaded Aximand. 'I have to, my brother,' said Maloghurst. There is no other way.'

Aximand felt the responsibility of the decision before him crushing him to the floor as every eye in the cham­ber turned upon him. His eyes meet Abaddon's and he saw that Ezekyle was clearly in favour of doing whatever it took to save the Warmaster.

'What of Torgaddon and Loken?' asked Aximand, try­ing to buy some time to think. 'They are not here to speak.'

'Loken is not one of us!' shouted Kalus Ekaddon, Cap­tain of the Reaver squads. 'He had his chance to join us, but turned his back on our order. As for Tarik, he will follow our lead in this. There is no time to seek him out.' Aximand looked into the faces of the men around him, and he realised had no choice. He never had from the moment he had walked into the room.

Whatever it took, the Warmaster had to live. It was that simple.

He knew there would be consequences. There always were in a devil's bargain like this, but any price was worth paying if it would save the commander.

He was damned if he would be remembered as die warrior who stood by and let the Warmaster die.

Very well,' he said at last. 'Let the Lodge of the Serpent do what it can.'

The difference in Davin's moon in the few hours since they had last set foot on it was incredible, thought Loken. The cloying mists and fogs had vanished and the sky was lightening from a musky yellow to bleached white. The stench was still there, but it too was lessened, now just unpleasant rather than overpowering. Had the death of Temba broken some kind of power that held the moon locked in a perpetual cycle of decay?

As the Thunderhawk had skimmed the marshes, Loken had seen that the diseased forests were gone, their trunks collapsed in on themselves without the life-giving corruption holding them together. Without the obscuring mists, it was easy to find the Glory of Terra, though thankfully there was no deathly message coming over the vox this time.

They touched down and Loken led Locasta squad, Torgaddon, Vipus and Marr from the Thunderhawk with the confident strides of a natural leader. Though Torgaddon and Marr had held their captaincies longer than Loken, both instinctively deferred to him on this mission.

'What do you expect to find here, Garvi?' asked Tor­gaddon, squinting up at the collapsed hulk of the ship. He hadn't bothered to find a new helmet and his nose wrinkled at the stench of the place.

'I'm not sure,’ he answered. 'Answers, maybe; some­thing to help the Warmaster,’

Torgaddon nodded. 'Sounds good to me. What about you, Marr? What are you looking for?'

Tybalt Marr didn't answer, racking the slide of his bolter and marching towards the crashed vessel. Loken caught up with him and grabbed his shoulder guard.

'Tybalt, am I going to have a problem with you here?'

'No. I just want to see where Verulam died,’ said Marr. 'It won't be real until I've seen the place. I know I saw him in the mortuary, but that wasn't a dead man. It was just like looking in a mirror. You understand?'

Loken didn't, but he nodded anyway. Very well, take up position in the file,’

They marched towards the dead ship, clambering up the broken ramps of debris to the gaping holes torn in its side.

'Damn, but it feels like a lifetime since we were fight­ing here,’ said Torgaddon.

'It was only three or four hours ago, Tarik,’ Loken pointed out.

'I know, but still…'

Eventually they reached the top of the ramp and pen­etrated the darkness of the ship, the memory of the last time he had done this and what he had found at the end of the journey still fresh in Loken's mind.

'Stay alert. We don't know what else might still be alive in here,’

'We should have bombed the wreck from orbit,’ mut­tered Torgaddon.

'Quiet!' hissed Loken. 'Didn't you hear what I said?'

Tarik raised his hands in apology and they pressed on through the groaning wreck, along darkened hallways, flickering companionways and stinking, blackened cor­ridors. Vipus and Loken led the way, with Torgaddon and Marr guarding the rear. The shadow-haunted wreck had lost none of its power to disturb, though the dis­gusting, organic growths that coated every surface with glistening wetness now seemed to be dying – drying up and cracking to powder.

What's going on in here?' asked Torgaddon. 'This place was like the hydroponics bay a few hours ago, now it's…'

'Dying,’ completed Vipus. 'Like those trees we saw ear­lier,’

'More like dead,’ said Marr, peeling the husk of one of the growths from the wall.

'Don't touch anything,’ warned Loken. 'Something in this ship had the power to harm the commander and until we know what that was, we touch nothing,’

Marr dropped the remains and wiped his hand on his leg as they journeyed deeper inside the ship. Loken's memory of their previous route was faultless and they soon reached the central spine and the route to the bridge.

Shafts of light speared in through holes in the hull and dust motes floated in the air like a glittering wall. Loken led on, ducking beneath protruding bulkheads and sparking cables as they reached their ultimate des­tination.