Galaxy in Flames (33 page)

The two friends forged through the rubble once again, towards the Mackaran Basilica.

Where lay one last chance of a victory on Isstvan III.

T
HE SOUNDS OF
battle echoed from all around him and Tarvitz hugged the shadows as he made his careful way through the ruins of the east wing of the palace. Squads of Emperor’s Children swarmed through the palace grounds, sweeping through the shattered domes and gunfire riddled rooms as they plunged the knife of their attack into the heart of the defences.

Here and there he saw squad markings he recognized and had to fight the ingrained urge to call out to them. But these warriors were the enemy and there would be no brotherly embrace or comradely welcome were they to discover him.

The very obsessiveness of their attack was working in Tarvitz’s favour as these warriors possessed the same single mindedness as Eidolon, fixated on the prize of the palace rather than proper battlefield awareness. For once, Eidolon’s flaws were working in his favour, thought Tarvitz, as he ghosted through the strobe-lit wasteland of the palace.

‘You’re going to need to tighten up discipline, Eidolon,’ he whispered, ‘or someone’s going to make you pay.’

The eastern sectors he had assigned Lucius and his men to watch over were bombed out ruins, the frescoes burned from the walls by the firestorm, and the mighty statue gardens pulverized by constant shelling and the battles that had raged furiously over the past months. To have held out this long was a miracle in itself and Tarvitz was not blind enough to try and fool himself into thinking that it could last much longer.

He saw dozens of bodies and checked every one for a sign that the swordsman had fallen. Each body was a warrior he knew, a warrior who had followed him into battle at the palace and trusted that he could lead them to victory. Each set of eyes accused him of their death, but he knew that there was nothing more he could have done.

The further eastward he went the less he encountered the invading Emperor’s Children, their attack pushing into the centre of the Precentor’s Palace rather than spreading out to capture its entirety.

Trust Eidolon to go for the glory rather than standard battlefield practice.

Give me a hundred Space Marines and I would punish your arrogance,
thought Tarvitz.

Even as the thought occurred to him, a slow smile spread across his face. He
had
a hundred Space Marines. True, they were engaged in battle, but if any force of warriors could disengage from battle in good order and hand over to a friendly force in the middle of a desperate firefight, it was the Emperor’s Children.

He crouched in the shadow of a fallen statue and opened a vox-channel. ‘Solathen,’ he hissed. ‘Can you hear me?’

Static washed from the vox bead in his ear and he cursed at the idea of his plan being undone by something as trivial as a failure of communications.

‘I hear you, captain, but we’re a little busy right now!’ said Solathen’s voice.

‘Understood,’ said Tarvitz, ‘but I have new orders for you. Disengage from the fight and hand over to the Luna Wolves. Let them take the brunt of the fighting and gather as many warriors as you can rally to you. Then converge on my position.’

‘Sir?’

‘Take the eastern passages along the servants’ wing. That should bring you to me without too much trouble. We have an opportunity to hurt these bastards, Solathen, so I need you to get here with all possible speed!’

‘Understood, sir,’ said Solathen, signing off. Tarvitz froze as he heard a voice say, ‘It won’t do any good, Saul. The Precentor’s Palace is as good as lost. Even you should be able to see that.’

He looked up and saw Lucius standing in the center of the dome in front of him, his shimmering sword in one hand and a shard of broken glass in the other. He raised the glass to his face and sliced its razor edge along his cheek, drawing a line of blood from his skin that dripped to the dome’s floor.

‘Lucius,’ said Tarvitz, rising to his feet and entering the dome to meet the swordsman. ‘I thought you were dead.’

Bright starlight filled the dome and Tarvitz saw it was filled with the corpses of Emperor’s Children.

Not traitors, but loyalists and he could see that not one had fallen to a gunshot wound, but had been carved up by a powerful edged weapon. These warriors had been cut apart, and a horrible suspicion began to form in his mind.

‘Dead?’ laughed Lucius. ‘
Me?
Remember what Loken said to me when I humbled him in the practice cages?’

Wary now, Tarvitz nodded. ‘He said there was someone out there who could beat you.’

‘And do you remember what I told him?’

‘Yes,’ replied Tarvitz, sliding his hand to the hilt of his broadsword. ‘You said, “Not in this lifetime,” didn’t you?’

‘You have a good memory,’ said Lucius, dropping the bloody shard of glass to the floor.

‘Who’s that latest scar for?’ asked Tarvitz.

Lucius smiled, though there was no warmth to it.

‘It’s for you, Saul.’

T
HE GREAT FORUM
of the Mackaran Basilica was a desert of ashen bone, for as the virus bombs had dropped, thousands of Isstvanians had gathered there in the hope that the parliament house at one end of the forum would receive them. They had thronged the place and died there, their scorched remains resembling an ancient swamp from which rose the columns that bounded the forum on three sides. On the fourth was the parliament house itself, befouled by black tendrils of ash that reached up from the forum.

The building had been the seat of the Choral City’s civilian parliament, a counterpart to the nobles who had ruled from the Precentor’s Palace, but the prominent citizens who had taken shelter inside had died as surely as the horde of civilians outside.

Loken pushed through the sea of black bones, his sword ready in his hand as he forged through the thicket of bone. A skull grinned up at him, its burned and empty eye sockets accusing. Behind him, Torgaddon covered the forum beyond them.

‘Wait,’ said Loken quietly.

Torgaddon halted and looked round. ‘Is it them?’

‘I don’t know, maybe,’ said Loken, looking up at the parliament house. Beyond it he could just see the lines of a spacecraft, a stormbird in Sons of Horus colours. ‘Someone landed here, that’s for sure.’

They continued onwards to the edge of the parliament building, climbing the smooth marble steps. Its great doors had been thick studded oak, but they had been eaten away by the virus and burned to ash by the firestorm.

‘Shall we?’ asked Torgaddon.

Loken nodded, suddenly wishing that they had not come here, as a terrible feeling of doom settled on him. He looked at Torgaddon and wished he had some fitting words to say to him before they took these last, fateful steps.

Torgaddon seemed to understand what he was thinking and said, ‘Yes. I know, but what choice do we have?’

‘None,’ said Loken, marching through the archway and into the parliament house.

The interior of the building had been protected from the worst of the virus bombing and firestorm, only a few tangled blackened corpses lying sprawled among the dark wood panels and furnishings. The walls of the circular building were adorned with faded frescoes of the Choral City’s magnificent past, telling the tales of its growth and conquests.

The benches and voting-tables of the parliament were arranged around a central stage with a lectern from which the debates were led.

On the stage, in front of the lectern, stood Ezekyle Abaddon and Horus Aximand.

‘Y
OU BETRAYED US
,’ said Tarvitz, the hurt and disappointment almost too much to bear. ‘You killed your own men and let Eidolon and his warriors into the palace. Didn’t you?’

‘I did,’ said Lucius, swinging his sword in loops around his body as he loosened his muscles in preparation for the fight Tarvitz knew must come next. ‘And I’d do it again in a heartbeat.’

Tarvitz circled the edge of the dome, his steps in time with those of the swordsman. He had no illusions as to the outcome of this fight: Lucius was the pre-eminent blade master of the Legion, perhaps all the Legions. He knew he could not defeat Lucius, but this betrayal demanded retribution.

Honour must be satisfied.

‘Why, Lucius?’ asked Tarvitz.

‘How can you ask me that, Saul?’ demanded Lucius, drawing the circle closer and, step by step, the distance between the two warriors shrank. ‘I am only here thanks to my misplaced acquaintance with you. I know what the lord commander and Fabius offered you. How could you turn such an opportunity down?’

‘It was an abomination, Lucius,’ said Tarvitz, knowing he had to keep Lucius talking for as long as he could. ‘To tamper with the gene-seed? How can you possibly believe that the Emperor would condone such a thing?’

‘The Emperor?’ laughed Lucius. ‘Are you so sure he would disapprove? Look at what he did to create the primarchs? Aren’t
we
the result of genetic manipulation? The experiments Fabius is conducting are the logical next link in that evolutionary chain. We are a superior race and we must establish that superiority over any lesser beings that stand in our way.’

‘Even your fellow warriors?’ spat Tarvitz, gesturing to the corpses around the dome’s circumference with the blade of his sword.

Lucius shrugged. ‘Even them. I am going to rejoin my Legion and they tried to stop me. What choice did I have? Just like you are going to try and stop me.’

‘You’ll kill me too?’ asked Tarvitz. ‘After all the years we’ve fought together?’

‘Don’t try and appeal to my sense of fond reminiscences, Saul,’ warned Lucius. ‘I am better than you and I am going to achieve great things in the service of my Legion. Neither you or any foolish sense of misplaced loyalty are going to stop me.’

Lucius lifted the blade of his sword and dropped into a fighting crouch as Tarvitz approached him. The dome seemed suddenly silent as the two combatants circled one another, each searching for a weakness in the other’s defences. Tarvitz drew his combat knife in his left hand and reversed the blade, knowing he would need as many blades between him and Lucius as humanly possible.

Tarvitz knew there were no more words to be spoken. This could only end in blood.

Without warning, he leapt towards Lucius, thrusting with the smaller blade, but even as he attacked he saw that Lucius had been expecting it.

Lucius swayed aside and swept the hilt of his sword down, smashing the knife from his hand. The swordsman ducked as Tarvitz turned on his heel and slashed high with his sword.

Tarvitz’s blade cut only air and Lucius hammered his elbow into his side.

He danced away, expecting Lucius to land a blow, but the swordsman merely smiled and danced around him lightly on the balls of his feet. Lucius was playing with him, and he felt his anger mount in the face of such mockery.

Lucius advanced towards Tarvitz, darting in with the speed of a striking snake to thrust at his stomach. Tarvitz blocked the thrust, rolling his wrists over Lucius’s blade and slashing for his neck, but the swordsman had anticipated the move and nimbly dodged the blow.

Tarvitz attacked suddenly, his blade a flashing blur of steel that forced Lucius back step by step. Lucius parried a vicious slash aimed at his groin, spinning with a laugh to launch a lightning riposte at his foe.

Tarvitz saw the blade cut the air towards him, knowing he was powerless to prevent it landing. He hurled himself back, but felt a red-hot line of agony as the energised edge bit deep into his side. He clamped a hand to his side as blood spilled down his armour, gasping in pain before his armour dispensed stimulants that blocked it.

Tarvitz backed away from Lucius and the swordsman followed with a grin of anticipation.

‘If that’s the best you’ve got, Saul, then you’d best give up now,’ smirked Lucius. ‘I promise I’ll make it quick.’

‘I was just about to say the same thing, Lucius,’ gasped Tarvitz, lifting his sword once again.

The two warriors clashed once more, their swords shimmering streaks of silver and blue as coruscating sparks spat from their blades. Tarvitz fought with every ounce of courage, strength and skill he could muster, but he knew it was hopeless. Lucius parried his every attack with ease and casually landed cut after cut on his flesh, enough to draw blood and hurt, but not enough to kill.

Blood gathered in the corner of his mouth as he staggered away from yet another wounding blow.

‘A hit,’ sniggered Lucius. ‘A palpable hit.’

Tarvitz knew he was fighting with the last of his reserves and the fight could not go on much longer. Soon Lucius would tire of his poor sport and finish him, but perhaps he had held him here for long enough.

‘Had enough?’ coughed Tarvitz. ‘You don’t have to die here.’

Lucius cocked his head to one side as he advanced towards him and said, ‘You’re serious, aren’t you? You actually think you can beat me.’

Tarvitz nodded and spat blood. ‘Come on and have a go if you think you can kill me.’

Lucius leapt forwards to attack and Tarvitz dropped his sword and leapt to meet him. Surprised by such an obviously suicidal move, Lucius was a fraction of a second too late to dodge Tarvitz’s attack.

The two warriors clashed in the air and Tarvitz smashed his fist into the swordsman’s face. Lucius turned his head to rob the blow of its force, but Tarvitz gave him no chance to right himself as they fell to the floor, and pistoned his fist into his former comrade’s face. Lucius’s sword skittered away and they fought with fists and elbows, knees and feet.

At such close quarters, skill with a blade was irrelevant and Tarvitz let his hate and anger spill out in every thunderous hammer blow he landed. They rolled and grappled like brawling street thugs, Tarvitz punching Lucius with powerful blows that would have killed a mortal man a dozen times over, the swordsman struggling to push Tarvitz clear.

‘I also remember what Loken taught you the first time he brought you down,’ gasped Tarvitz as he saw movement at the edge of the dome. ‘Understand your foe and do whatever is necessary to bring him down.’

He released his grip on Lucius and rolled clear, pushing himself as far away from the swordsman as he could. Lucius sprang to his feet in an instant, scrambling across the floor to retrieve his weapon.