Horus Rising (29 page)

The blast levelled the three stone trees. They collapsed like buildings, like demolished towers, fracturing into brittle splinters and white dust as they fell into the fireball. Two or three of the winged clades feeding on the trees took off, but they were on fire, and the heat-suck of the explosion tumbled them back into the flames.

Tarvitz got up. The trees had been reduced to a heap of white slag, burning furiously. A thick pall of ash-white dust and smoke rolled off the blast zone. Burning, smouldering scads, like volcanic out-throw, drizzled down over him.

He hauled Sakian upright. The creature’s impact on them had broken Sakian’s right upper arm, and that break had been made worse when they had been thrown by the blast. Sakian was unsteady, but his genhanced metabolism was already compensating.

Bulle, unhurt, was getting up by himself.

The vox stirred. It was Lucius. ‘Happy now?’ he asked.

B
EYOND REVENGE AND
honour, Tarvitz’s action had two unexpected consequences. The second did not become evident for some time, but the first was apparent in less than thirty minutes.

Where the vox had failed to link the scattered forces on the surface, the blast succeeded. Two other troops, one commanded by Captain Anteus, the other by Lord Eidolon himself, detected the considerable detonation, and followed the smoke plume to its source. United, they had almost fifty Astartes between them.

‘Make report to me,’ Eidolon said. They had taken up position at the edge of the clearing, some half a kilometre from the destroyed trees, near the hem of the stalk forest. The open ground afforded them ample warning of the approach of the megarachnid scurrier-clades, and if the winged forms reappeared, they could retreat swiftly into the cover of the thickets and mount a defence.

Tarvitz outlined all that had befallen his troop since landfall as quickly and clearly as possible. Lord Eidolon was one of the primarch’s most senior commanders, the first chosen to such a role, and brooked no familiarity, even from senior line officers like Tarvitz. Saul could tell from his manner that Eidolon was seething with anger. The undertaking had not gone at all to his liking. Tarvitz wondered if Eidolon might ever admit he was wrong to have ordered the drop. He doubted it. Eidolon, like all the elite hierarchy of the Emperor’s Children, somehow made pride a virtue.

‘Repeat what you said about the trees,’ Eidolon prompted.

‘The winged forms use them to secure prey for feeding, lord,’ Tarvitz said.

‘I understand that,’ Eidolon snapped. ‘I’ve lost men to the winged things, and I’ve seen the thorn trees, but you say there were other bodies?’

‘The corpses of Blood Angels, lord,’ Tarvitz nodded, ‘and men of the Imperial army force too.’

‘We’ve not seen that,’ Captain Anteus remarked.

‘It might explain what happened to them,’ Eidolon replied. Anteus was one of Eidolon’s chosen circle and enjoyed a far more cordial relationship with his lord than Tarvitz did.

‘Have you proof?’ Anteus asked Tarvitz.

‘I destroyed the trees, as you know, sir,’ Tarvitz said.

‘So you don’t have proof?’

‘My word is proof,’ said Tarvitz.

‘And good enough for me,’ Anteus nodded courteously. ‘I meant no offence, brother.’

‘And I took none, sir.’

‘You used all your charges?’ Eidolon asked.

‘Yes, lord.’

‘A waste.’

Tarvitz began to reply, but stifled the words before he could say them. If it hadn’t been for his use of the explosives, they wouldn’t have reunited. If it hadn’t been for his use of the explosives, the ragged corpses of fine Emperor’s Children would have hung from stone gibbets in ignominious disarray.

‘I told him so, lord,’ Lucius remarked.

‘Told him what?’

‘That using all our charges was a waste.’

‘What’s that in your hand, captain?’ Eidolon asked.

Lucius held up the limb-blade.

‘You taint us,’ Anteus said. ‘Shame on you. Using an enemy’s claw like a sword…’

‘Throw it away, captain,’ Eidolon said. ‘I’m surprised at you.’

‘Yes, lord.’

‘Tarvitz?’

‘Yes, my lord?’

‘The Blood Angels will require some proof of their fallen. Some relic they can honour. You say shreds of armour hung from those trees. Go and retrieve some. Lucius can help you.’

‘My lord, should we not secure this—’

‘I gave you an order, captain. Execute it please, or does the honour of our brethren Legion mean nothing to you?’

‘I only thought to—’

‘Did I ask for your counsel? Are you a lord commander, and privy to the higher links of command?’

‘No, lord.’

‘Then get to it, captain. You too, Lucius. You men, assist them.’

T
HE LOCAL SHIELD
-
STORM
had blown out. The sky over the wide clearing was surprisingly clear and pale, as if night was finally falling. Tarvitz had no idea of Murder’s diurnal cycle. Since they had made planetfall, night and day periods must surely have passed, but in the stalk forests, lit by the storm flare, such changes had been imperceptible.

Now it seemed cooler, stiller. The sky was a washed-out beige, with filaments of darkness threading through it. There was no wind, and the flicker of sheet lightning came from many kilometres away. Tarvitz thought he could even glimpse stars up there, in the darker patches of the open sky.

He led his party out to the ruins of the trees. Lucius was grumbling as if it was all Tarvitz’s fault.

‘Shut up,’ Tarvitz told him on a closed channel. ‘Consider this ample payback for your kiss-arse display to the lord commander.’

‘What are you talking about?’ Lucius asked.

‘
I told him it was a waste, lord,
’ Tarvitz answered, mimicking Lucius’s words in an unflattering voice.

‘I did tell you!’

‘Yes, you did, but there’s such a thing as solidarity. I thought we were friends.’

‘We are friends,’ Lucius said, hurt.

‘And that was the act of a friend?’

‘We are the Emperor’s Children,’ Lucius said solemnly. ‘We seek perfection, we don’t hide our mistakes. You made a mistake. Acknowledging our failures is another step on the road to perfection. Isn’t that what our primarch teaches?’

Tarvitz frowned. Lucius was right. Primarch Fulgrim taught that only by imperfection could they fail the Emperor, and only by recognising those failures could they eradicate them. Tarvitz wished someone would remind Eidolon of that key tenet of their Legion’s philosophy.

‘I made a mistake,’ Lucius admitted. ‘I used that blade thing. I relished it. It was xenos. Lord Eidolon was right to reprimand me.’

‘I told you it was xenos. Twice.’

‘Yes, you did. I owe you an apology for that. You were right, Saul. I’m sorry.’

‘Never mind.’

Lucius put his hand on Tarvitz’s plated arm and stopped him.

‘No, it’s not. I’m a fine one to talk. You are always so grounded, Saul. I know I mock you for that. I’m sorry. I hope we’re still friends.’

‘Of course.’

‘Your steadfast manner is a true virtue,’ Lucius said. ‘I become obsessive sometimes, in the heat of things. It is an imperfection of my character. Perhaps you can help me overcome it. Perhaps I can learn from you.’ His voice had that childlike tone in it that had made Tarvitz like him in the first place. ‘Besides,’ Lucius added, ‘you saved my life. I haven’t thanked you for that.’

‘No, you haven’t, but there’s no need, brother.’

‘Then let’s get this done, eh?’

The other men had waited while Tarvitz and Lucius conducted their private, vox-to-vox conversation. The pair hurried over to rejoin them.

The men Eidolon had picked to go with them were Bulle, Pherost, Lodoroton and Tykus, all men from Tarvitz’s squad. Eidolon was so clearly punishing the troop, it wasn’t funny. Tarvitz hated the fact that his men suffered because he was not in favour.

And Tarvitz had a feeling they weren’t being punished for wasting charges. They were suffering Eidolon’s opprobrium because they had achieved more of significance than either of the other groups since the drop.

They reached the ruined trees and crunched up the slopes of smouldering white slag. Remnants of stone thorns stuck out of the heap, like the antlers of bull deer, some blackened with charred scraps of flesh.

‘What do we do?’ asked Tykus.

Tarvitz sighed, and knelt down in the white spoil. He began to sift aside the chalky debris with his gloved hands. ‘This,’ he said.

T
HEY WORKED FOR
an hour or two. Some kind of night began to fall, and the air temperature dropped sharply as the light drained out of the sky. Stars came out, properly, and distant lightning played across the endless grass forests ringing the clearing.

Immense heat was issuing from the heart of the slag heap, and it made the cold air around them shimmer. They sifted the dusty slag piece by piece, and retrieved two battered shoulder plates, both Blood Angels issue, and an Imperial army cap. ‘Is that enough?’ asked Lodoroton. ‘Keep going,’ replied Tarvitz. He looked out across the dim clearing to where Eidolon’s force was dug in. ‘Another hour, maybe, and we’ll stop.’

Lucius found a Blood Angels helmet. Part of the skull was still inside it. Tykus found a breastplate belonging to one of the lost Emperor’s Children. ‘Bring that too,’ Tarvitz said.

Then Pherost found something that almost killed him.

It was one of the winged clades, burned and buried, but still alive. As Pherost pulled the calcified cinders away, the crumpled black thing, wingless and ruptured, reared up and stabbed at him with its hooked headcrest. Pherost stumbled, fell, and slithered down the slag slope on his back. The clade struggled after him, dragging its damaged body, its broken wing bases vibrating pointlessly.

Tarvitz leapt over and slew it with his broadsword. It was so near death and dried out that its body crumpled like paper under his blade, and only a residual ichor, thick like glue, oozed out.

‘All right?’ Tarvitz asked.

‘Just took me by surprise,’ Pherost replied, laughing it off.

‘Watch how you go,’ Tarvitz warned the others.

‘Do you hear that?’ asked Lucius.

It had become very still and dark, like a true and proper night fall. Amping their helmet acoustics, they could all hear the chittering noise Lucius had detected. In the edges of the thickets, starlight flashed off busy metallic forms.

‘They’re back,’ said Lucius, looking round at Tarvitz.

‘Tarvitz to main party,’ Tarvitz voxed. ‘Hostile contact in the edges of the forest.’

‘We see it, captain,’ Eidolon responded immediately. ‘Hold your position until we—’

The link cut off abruptly, like it was being jammed.

‘We should go back,’ Lucius said.

‘Yes,’ Tarvitz agreed.

A sudden light and noise made them all start. The main party, half a kilometre away, had opened fire. Across the distance, they heard and saw bolters drumming and flashing in the darkness. Distant zinc-grey forms danced and jittered in the strobing light of the gunfire.

Eidolon’s position had been attacked.

‘Come on!’ Lucius cried.

‘And do what?’ Tarvitz asked. ‘Wait! Look!’

The six of them scrambled down into cover on one side of the spoil heap. Megarachnid were approaching from the edges of the forest, their marching grey forms almost invisible except where they caught the starlight and the distant blink of lightning. They were streaming towards the tree mound in their hundreds, in neat, ordered lines. Amongst them, there were other shapes, bigger shapes, massive megarachnid forms. Another clade variant.

Tarvitz’s party slid down the chalky rubble and backed away into the open, the expanse of the clearing behind them, keeping low. To their right, Lord Eidolon’s position was engulfed in loud, furious combat.

‘What are they doing?’ asked Bulle.

‘Look,’ said Tarvitz.

The columns of megarachnid ascended the heap of rubble. Warrior forms, equipped with quad-blades, took station around the base, on guard. Others mounted the slopes and began to sort the spoil, clearing it with inhuman speed and efficiency. Tarvitz saw warrior forms doing this work, and also clades of a similar design, but which possessed spatulate shovel limbs in place of blades. With minute precision, the megarachnid began to disassemble the rubble heap, and carry the loose debris away into the thickets. They formed long, mechanical work gangs to do this. The more massive forms, the clades Tarvitz had not seen before, came forwards. They were superheavy monsters with short, thick legs and gigantic abdomens. They moved ponderously, and began to gnaw and suck on the loose rubble with ghastly, oversized mouth-parts. The smaller clades scurried around their hefty forms, pulling skeins of white matter from their abdominal sphincters with curiously dainty, weaving motions of their upper limbs. The smaller clades carried this fibrous, stiffening matter back into the increasingly cleared site and began to plaster it together.

‘They’re rebuilding the trees,’ Bulle whispered.

It was an extraordinary sight. The massive clades, weavers, were consuming the broken scraps of the trees Tarvitz had felled, and turning them into fresh new material, like gelling concrete. The smaller clades, busy and scurrying, were taking the material and forming new bases with it in the space that others of their kind had cleared.

In less than ten minutes, much of the area had been picked clean, and the trunks of three new trees were being formed. The scurrying builders brought limb loads of wet, milk white matter to the bases, and then regurgitated fluid onto them so as to mix them as cement. Their limbs whirred and shaped like the trowels of master builders.

Still, the battle behind them roared. Lucius kept glancing in the direction of the fight.

‘We should go back,’ he whispered. ‘Lord Eidolon needs us.’

‘If he can’t win without the six of us,’ Tarvitz said, ‘he can’t win. I felled these trees. I’ll not see them built again. Who’s with me?’

Bulle answered ‘Aye.’ So did Pherost, Lodoroton and Tykus.

‘Very well,’ said Lucius. ‘What do we do?’

But Tarvitz had already drawn his broadsword and was charging the megarachnid workers.