The Eisenhorn TrilogyXenos(科幻战争)-第50部分

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s　mouth　and　eyes。　The
daemonhost；　its　cruel　features　just　recognisable　as　a　distortion　of　poor；　lost　Husmaan's　face；　hovered　in　front　of　Voke；　struggling　at　an
invisible　barrier　of　telekinetic　wrath。
We　ran　forward；　abruptly　drawing　fire　from　cultists　spreading　into　the　chamber　from　the　right。　The　Thracian　beside　me　bucked　and
twitched　as　he　was　hit　twice；　and　Inshabel　cursed　as　he　was　winged。
Endor　urged　the　remaining　men　to　advance　on　his　lead；　and　took　the　fight　to　the　cultists；　his　laspistol　blazing　and　his　chainblade
swinging。
Voke　was　close　to　breaking。　I　could　see　him　wavering　under　the　immense　pressure。
I　bolstered　my　boltgun　and　stumbled　across　the　bodies　and　debris　to　aid　him；　praying　that　my　runestaff　would　do　what　it　was　supposed
to。
And　a　dizzying　blast　of　white　light　and　scourging　heat　blew　me　back　through　the　air。
I　TRIED　TO　get　up；　half…realising　that　I　had　been　blown　clean　out　of　the　chamber；　through　a　flakboard　partition　into　some　kind　of　dank
chute。　Invisible　forces　lifted　me　to　my　feet。　Light　bathed　me。
Cherubael　hovered　before　me。

'Gregor；'　it　said。　'You've　come　so　far。　I　knew　you　had　it　in　you。'
I　held　the　runestaff　in　front　of　me。　The　green　marble　scroll　of　daemonic　protection　that　Ravenor　had　sent　had　already　been　reduced　to
a　shattered　remnant　by　the　force　of　Cherubael's　opening　attack。
'I've　waited　for　this　moment　for　such　a　long　time；'　said　the　daemonhost。　'Remember　on　Eechan　I　said　you'd　have　to　make　things　up　to
me？　Well；　this　is　the　time。　Now。　This　is　the　moment　that　everything's　been　about。　The　one　I　have　seen　coming　since　our　paths　first
crossed。　Destinies…　our　destinies；　intertwined；　remember　that？'
'How　could　I　forget？'　I　spat。　'You　claim　to　have　been　using　me　all　along！　Guiding　me！　Even　protecting　me！　I　watched　you　kill　Lyko　on
Eechan！　So　that　I　would　live…　for　this　moment？　Why？'
Cherubael　smiled。　'When　the　warp　is　in　you　as　it　is　in　me；　you　see　time　from　all　angles。　You　see　what　will　be　and　what　will　come；
what　someone　here　now　will　do　in　a　century　or　two；　what　someone　there　has　done　a　thousand　years　in　the　past。　You　see　the
possibilities。'
'Riddles！　That's　all　you　ever　speak！'
'No　more　riddles；　Eisenhorn。　From　the　moment　I　first　met　you；　I　saw　you　were　the　only　one；　the　only　one　with　the　tenacity；　the　skill
and　the　opportunity　to　give　me　what　I　want。　What　I　want　most　of　all。　I　saw　that　if　I　kept　you　safe；　you　would　come　and　give　me　that
most　precious　thing　here；　on　this　world；　at　this　hour。'
'I　would　never　help　a　daemon　like　you！'
Cherubael　grinned；　blank…eyed　and　utterly　serious。　'Then　destroy　me；　if　you　can。'
It　lunged。　I　raised　the　runestaff　and　channelled　my　will　down　through　the　psi…conductive　pole　into　the　lodestone。　The　carved　fragment
of　the　Lith　blazed　with　blue　light。
PONTIUS　GLAW　KNEW　a　thing　or　two　about　daemonhosts。　Their　greatest　weakness　was　the　strength　of　the　will　that　had　bound　them　as
slaves。　The　runestaff；　so　carefully　prepared　and　constructed；　so　painstakingly　etched　with　the　ancient　symbols　of　control；　was　a　lever
to　topple　that　binding　will　by　amplifying　my　own　to　levels　that　would　overwhelm　it。
For　a　brief　moment；　I　felt　how　it　must　feel　to　be　an　alpha…plus　psyker。
The　scintillating　spear　of　energy　that　shot　from　the　lode…stone　struck　Cherubael　in　the　chest。
The　daemonhost　smiled　for　a　second；　and　then　its　flesh…vessel　ruptured　open；　billowing　a　storm　of　Chaos…fire　in　all　directions。　I　had
cast　it　out　of　its　binding　and　banished　it　back　into　the　warp。
And　in　the　moment　as　my　amplified　mind　overmastered　his；　I　saw　the　years　of　enslavement　it　had　endured　af　Quixos's　hands；　the
torments　of　its　binding；　the　great；　forbidden　text　of　the　Malus　Codicium　whose　arcane　knowledge　Quixos　had　used　to　create　his
daemonhosts。
And　I　realised　that　I　had　given　Cherubael　exactly　what　it　wanted　after　all。
Freedom。
I　STUMBLED　BACK　into　the　main　chamber。　By　then；　Voke；　whose　resistance　to　Prophaniti　had　been　astonishing；　was　dead。
I　remembered　Voke's　words　after　the　atrocity　on　Thracian：　'I　will　make　amends。　I　will　not　rest　until　every　one　of　these　wretches　is
destroyed；　and　order　restored。　And　then　I　will　not　rest　until　I　find　who　and　what　was　behind　it。'
He　could　rest　now。　That　work　was　done。
The　daemonhost　was　casting　the　valiant　old　man's　empty　husk　of　a　body　aside　and　gliding　towards　Endor　and　Inshabel；　who　were　both
already　on　their　knees　in　agony。　Cyan　flames　washed　from　Prophaniti's　fingertips　and　wrapped　my　two　friends　in　tight；　burning
psychic　shackles。　They　were　trapped　morsels　for　it　to　feed　off　at　its　leisure。
Prophaniti　froze　when　I　appeared；　instinctively　knowing　I　posed　a　more　serious　threat。　The　Lith…stone　was　still　smoking　with　bloodred
light。
The　daemonhost　surged　through　the　air　at　me；　teeth　bared；　arms　spread；　incandescent　with　light；　baying　my　name。　It　was　like　facing
the　attack　run　of　a　supersonic　warcraft　firing　all　guns。　I　know　so。　It　is　my　misfortune　to　have　experienced　that　too。
Prophaniti　whooped　with　glee。
'At　Kasr　Geth；　you　told　me　to　make　my　weapons　sounder　next　time；　monster！'　I　howled；　and　impaled　its　charging　form　on　the　steel
pole　of　the　runestaff。　'Is　this　sound　enough？'
Prophaniti　screamed　and　exploded；　blowing　me　off　my　feet。　I　don't　think　I　banished　it。　I　think　I　obliterated　its　essence　forever。
The　runestaff　was；　miraculously；　unscathed；　and　lay　amid　the　rubble。　But　Prophaniti's　dissipating　being　had　made　it　white　hot　from
base　to　cap；　and　I　could　not　pick　it　up　again。
I　ran　across　to　Titus　Endor　and　Inshabel；　both　of　whom　lolled　weakly　on　the　floor。
Inshabel　was　dazed　but　intact。　Endor　had　daemon　gashes　across　his　chest　and　neck。　He　looked　up　at　me　blearily。
'You　got　them　both；　Gregor…'
'I　pray　there　are　no　more；'　I　replied；　trying　to　staunch　his　bleeding。　His　rosette　slid　out　of　his　coat　pocket　and　I　leaned　to　pick　it　up。
The　inquisitorial　symbol　was　decorated　with　the　ornate　crest　of　the　Ordo　Malleus。
'Malleus？'　I　hissed。
'No…'
'When　did　you　transfer；　Endor？　Damn　you；　when　did　you　change　ordos？'
'They　forced　me…'　he　wheezed；　'Osma　forced　me！　When　he　had　me　on　Messina…　there　were　certain　matters　from　a　case　a　few　years
ago。　He'd　got　his　hands　on　them　somehow…　He…　he　promised　I　would　burn　if　I　didn't　help　him　get　to　you。'

'What　matters？'
'Nothing！　Nothing；　Gregor；　I　swear！　But　he　had　Bezier's　backing！　He　could　have　made　anything　look　heretical！　I　transferred　orders　to
stop　him　breaking　me。　He　said　I　would　be　rewarded；　advanced。　He　said　Ordo　Malleus　was　a　better　prospect　for　me。'
'But　you　were　to　keep　an　eye　on　me？'
'I　told　him　nothing！　I　never　sold　you　out。　I　did　just　enough　to　keep　Osma　satisfied。'
'Like　coming　here。　No　wonder　you　hid　your　rosette。　He　wanted　you　to　take　me　down；　didn't　he？'
Endor　was　silent。　Inshabel　looked　on　in　stark　disbelief。
'I…　I　was　to　go　along　with　this　operation；　in　the　hope　that　it　might　be　successful。　Orsini's　under　no　illusions　that　Quixos　is　a　menace；
and　this　was　an　expedient　way；　perhaps；　of　eliminating　him。　If　you　were　still…　alive　at　the　end　of　it；　I　was　told　to　arrest　you　on　the
carta　charges。　Or；　if　you　resisted…'
'Get　him　up　to　ground　level；'　I　told　Inshabel　quietly。　'Find　him　a　medic。　Don't　let　him　out　of　your　sight。'
'Yes　sir！'
'Gregor！'　Endor　gasped　as　Inshabel　lifted　him。　'By　the　God…Emperor；　I　never　meant—'
'Get　him　out　of　here！'　I　growled。
THE　ASSAULT　ON　Ferell　Sidor　was　three　hours　old　when　Grumman；　Ricci　and　I　entered　the　undervault　of　the　excavation　pit。
Madorthene's　forces　were　still　locked　in　a　monumental　struggle　with　the　renegade's　warriors　throughout　the　warren　of　tunnels　and
chambers　in　the　table　mountain。
Ricci　was　weak　from　a　blade　wound；　and　all　of　his　bodyguards　were　dead。　Grumman　had　just　two　Kasrkin　left　with　him；　both　of　them
armed　with　lasrifles。
The　vast　undervault　was　an　excavated　pit　almost　a　kilometre　deep；　open　to　the　sky。　The　serebite　copy　of　the　Radian　pylon　rested　in　the
base　of　it；　surrounded　by　adamantite　scaffolding。　Gibbet　cages；　hundreds　of　them；　hung　from　the　scaffolding　on　chains。　In　each　one；
trapped　and　helpless；　was　a　human　body。
They　were　Quixos's　carefully　collected　arsenal　of　rogue　psykers；　secretly　acquired　from　all　over　the　Imperium。　It　must　have　taken　him
decades　to　accumulate　so　many。　One　of　them；　I　had　no　doubt；　was　Esarhaddon
'What　is　he　doing？'　Ricci　asked；　a　touch　of　awe　in　his　voice。
'Something　we　have　to　stop；'　said　Grumman；　with　a　direct　simplicity　I　appreciated。　It　was　the　only　answer　any　of　us　needed。
We　had　been　living　at　our　nerve　ends　since　the　assault　began；　and　were　wired　with　combat　sharpness。　Even　so；　despite　our　combined
experience　and　skill；　what　happened　next　took　us　all　totally　by　surprise。
One　moment　there　was　nothing。　The　next；　a　robed；　armoured　form　was　in　amongst　us；　moving　so　fast　it　was　simply　a　blur。
So　fast。　So　accursedly　fast。
Instantly；　Ricci　was　split　open　down　the　length　of　his　spine。　As　he　was　still　in　the　process　of　falling　on　his　face；　choking　on　his　own
blood；　one　of　the　Kasrkin　was　severed　at　the　waist；　and　toppled　in　halves；　his　gun　firing　spasmodically。　The　other　Kasrkin　folded　up
around　the　impaling　thrust　of　a　long；　dark　blade；　spontaneously　combusting　from　the　belly　out。
Grumman　pushed　me　out　of　the　way　as　the　devastating　blur　turned　again；　and　fired　his　laspistol　at　it　three　times。　Snapping　round　faster
than　my　eyes　could　follow；　the　long；　dark　blade　the　blur　was　wielding　deflected　each　crackling　shot。
Grumman's　head　left　his　shoulders。
Quixos；　the　arch…heretic；　the　renegade；　the　unforgivable　radical；　whirled　on　me　before　Grumman's　butchered　body　had　even　started　to
slump。
I　had　one　fleeting　glimpse　of　the　long　daemonsword；　Kharnagar。　It　was　gnarled　and　knotted　and　thick　with　abominable　runes　and
irregular　clawlike　serrations。
That's　all　I　saw　as　it　came　whistling　towards　my　face。

TWENTY…THREE
THE　HERETIC。
AFTERWARDS。
A　BARE　HAND'S　BREADTH　from　my　head；　the　blood…red　blade　came　to　a　dead　stop；　blocked　by　the　gleaming　steel　of　Barbarisater。
Time　seemed　to　stand　still　for　a　heartbeat。　We　faced　each　other；　our　blades　locked　together。　Quixos　had　been　a　speed…distorted
phantom　until　our　swords　had　struck。　Now　he　was　frozen；　glaring　between　the　crossed　blades　at　me。
The　renegade's　armour　was　ragged　and　filthy；　and　ornate　with　warp…signs。　His　inquisitorial　rosette　was　displayed；　incongruously；　on
his　right　shoulder　guard。　It　revolted　me　to　see　it　worn　amongst　such　corruption。
His　ancient　face　was　a　misshapen；　pustular　horror。　Rudimentary　antlers　bulged　from　his　brow。　His　skin　was　dark　like　granite。
Wheezing　augmetic　cables　and　implants　bulged　at　his　throat　and　under　the　dirty　head…cloth　he　wore。　His　eyes　were　shining　balls　of
blood。
In　honesty；　he　was　a　disappointing　little　monster　compared　to　the　notion　of　him　that　had　built　up　in　my　mind。　But　there　was　no
denying　his　inhuman　strength　and　speed。

Eisenhorn；　he　said。　It　was　psychic。　His　twisted　mouth　didn't　open。
Barbarisater　felt　him　move　before　I　did。　It　lurched　in　my　hands。　In　the　time　it　takes　to　draw　a　breath；　we　had　exchanged　a　flurry　of
twenty　or　more　blows。　The　talon…edged　blade　of　Kharnager　rang　dully　off　the　Carthaen　steel。　Barbarisater's　pentagrammatic　runes
flashed　and　flared　with　discharging　energy。　Kharnager　groaned　softly。
Heretic！　Slave