Ice Guard(科幻战争)-第25部分

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The　interior　of　the　Ice　Palace　was　no　less　impressive　than　its　exterior　—　and　no　less　well…guarded。
Steele　was　guided　through　what　seemed　like　legions　of　Traitor　Guardsmen；　across　an　enormous
hallway　—　formed　from　the　ice；　of　course；　but　lushly　appointed　with　velvet　rugs　and　wall　hangings。
The　hall　was　festooned　with　elaborate　ice　sculptures；　lent　a　certain　beauty　by　soft　and　perhaps
sorcerous　inner　lights　—　until　Steele　drew　close　enough　to　make　out　their　twisted；　daemonic　shapes。
A　frozen　staircase　swept　in　an　elegant　curve　upwards　to　the　balconies　and　balustrades　of　the　next
floor。　He　was　dragged　past　this；　into　a　small；　dark　corner；　and　bundled　through　a　nondescript
doorway。
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Behind　this；　steps　—　stone　steps　—　stretched　downwards　into　an　oppressive　gloom。　There　was
scarcely　room　to　descend　in　single　file；　so　Steele　was　set　on　his　feet　and　prodded　in　the　back　with　a
lasgun　muzzle；　forced　to　walk　with　a　traitor　close　in　front　of　him　and　another　close　behind。
Rough…hewn　stone　walls　opened　up　around　them；　lit　only　by　the　glows　of　the　traitors’　lamppacks。
Steele　could　hear　an　insistent　drip；　echoing　and　re…echoing　until　even　he　could　not　have
pinpointed　its　source。　He　felt　as　if　he　was　sinking　into　the　depths　of　the　underhive；　except　that　he
knew　he　was　still　high　above　ground　level。　The　cavern　appeared　natural　enough　—　but　Steele
suspected　that；　if　he　could　have　looked　with　his　bionic　eye；　he　would　have　found　tell…tale　signs　that
it　was　man…made。
Mangellan　had　decided；　it　seemed；　to　complement　the　splendour　of　his　castle　above　with　the
traditional　dungeons　below。
The　steps　were　streaked　with　ice　fungus；　some　of　them　treacherously　so。　Steele　contrived　to　slip；
and　to　fall　backwards；　toppling　the　unprepared　traitors　that　followed　him　like　a　row　of　dominoes。
Three　of　them　fell；　screaming；　over　the　side；　and　were　broken　on　the　rock　floor　below。　It　didn’t　ease
the　colonel’s　predicament　at　all　—　the　casualties　were　immediately　replaced；　new　hands　grasping
for　him；　forcing　him　to　walk　onwards　—　but　it　did　make　him　smile。
Thick　iron　doors　had　been　punched　into　the　cavern　walls。　They　nestled　in　nooks；　listing　at　odd
angles。　Steele　felt　his　heart　beating　a　little　faster　at　the　thought　that　Confessor　Wollkenden　might
have　been　behind　one　of　them。　He　resisted　the　urge　to　call　out　to　him。　He　didn’t　want　to　tip　his　hand
just　yet；　thought　it　best　to　bide　his　time；　to　continue　the　pretence　that　he　was　a　broken　prisoner。　Not
that　it　was　so　hard　to　pretend。
A　door　was　heaved　open；　and　Steele　was　thrust　through　it。　His　new　quarters　consisted　of　a
windowless　stone　box；　extending　no　more　than　a　metre　and　a　half　in　any　direction。　He　had　to　stoop
to　avoid　knocking　his　head　on　the　ceiling；　nor　was　there　enough　space　for　him　to　lie　comfortably。
A　solid　metal　ring　was　set　into　one　wall；　a　heap　of　chains　draped　across　it。　Two　of　the　traitors
placed　their　hands　on　Steele’s　shoulders；　pushed　him　down　to　the　ground　and　wrapped　him；　quickly
and　efficiently；　in　the　chains；　passing　them　four　or　five　times　through　the　ring　and　securing　them　at
last　with　a　heavy　padlock。　By　the　time　they　had　finished；　he　was　so　tightly　trussed　that　he　could
neither　sit　nor　stand；　his　body　forced　instead　into　an　unnatural；　painful　hunch：　the　traitors’　revenge；
he　supposed；　for　his　trick　on　the　steps。
They　withdrew；　and　took　their　lamp…packs　with　them。　The　slam　of　the　cell　door　plunged　Steele
into　an　impenetrable　darkness。　He　tried　to　switch　to　infrared　vision；　but　his　bionic　eye　still　wasn’t
responding。　Its　HUD　reported　that　the　self…repair　cycle　would　be　completed　in　thirty…five　seconds’
time。
Ten　minutes　later；　that　countdown　still　stood　at　thirty…five　seconds。
The　Ice　Warriors　were　back　on　the　move；　back　in　the　sewers　—　and　despite　their　odorous
surroundings；　Pozhar　was　just　grateful　to　be　out　of　that　chapel。　He　had　felt　no　trace　of　the　Emperor’s
presence　in　there；　not　for　him。　He　had　felt　like　an　intruder。
His　squad　was　eight…strong　again。　Barreski；　Mikhaelev　and　Palinev　had　been　brought　up　through
the　manhole　together；　and　Gavotski　had　greeted　them　and　explained　the　situation；　explaining　the
details　of　their　unlikely　alliance　with　the　mutants。
Barreski　had　looked　appalled；　but　he　had　kept　his　own　counsel。　Mikhaelev；　however；　had　been
surprisingly　supportive。
“They　can　help　us；”　he　had　said　to　the　others；　when　Blonsky　was　safely　out　of　earshot；　“or　we
can　kill　them；　and　throw　away　any　hope　of　succeeding　in　our　mission　for　the　sake　of　Imperial
dogma；　rules　written　by　men　who　have　never　set　foot　on　a　battlefield。　I　ask　you；　why　shouldn’t　we
do　this？”
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Pozhar　had　wanted　to　answer　that　question。　He　had　itched　to　tear　open　his　greatcoat；　to　expose
the　fur　that　was　crawling　across　his　chest；　to　yell　out；　“Because　you　don’t　want　to　end　up　like　me！”
But　he　had　no　wish　to　die　like　that。
“Once　we　have　the　confessor；”　Barreski　had　said　sullenly；　“we　can　pump　these　abominations　full
of　las…fire。　We　can　do　that；　right？”
The　sounds　of　combat　from　below　had　heralded　Anakora’s　approach。　She　had　been　collected　by
one　of　the　more　human…looking　mutants；　as　had　the　others　—　but　evidently　she　had　seen　through　its
disguise。　Gavotski　had　sent　Palinev　down　into　the　tunnels；　to　find　her　before　she　could　flee；　to
convince　her　that　there　was　no　threat　here。
They　had　all　listened　with　heavy　hearts　as　Anakora　had　related　the　details　of　Steele’s　last　stand。
“I　shouldn’t　have　left　him；”　she　had　sighed　—　to　which　Blonsky　had　retorted　that　of　course　she
should；　she　had　been　following　orders。
They　had　all　felt　as　uneasy　as　Pozhar　had　in　the　chapel　—　and　so；　although　it　might　have　been
safer　to　sleep　there　and　set　out　for　the　Ice　Palace　in　the　morning；　Gavotski　had　declined　this　offer。
He　had　also　stipulated　that　no　more　than　two　mutant　guides　should　accompany　the　Ice　Warriors　—
and　so；　two　had　been　detailed　to　the　task；　chosen　once　more　it　seemed　for　their　near…human　looks
and　ease　of　speech。
Pozhar　was　wading　behind　one　of　them；　wondering　how　misshapen　it　was　beneath　its　blue
worker’s　smock。
He　would　almost　have　preferred　the　company　of　an　obvious　monster。　At　least　that　would　have
been　concealing　nothing。　Not　like　me；　he　thought。
The　mutants　had　built　a　fire　on　the　chapel　floor；　in　which　all　of　the　Ice　Warriors　had　recharged
their　las…guns’　power　packs。　They　had　also　provided　a　few　scavenged　frag　grenades　and　knives；　but
nothing　more　useful　than　that。
Pozhar　was　concerned　that　they　seemed　to　have　climbed　a　long　way　down；　via　various　ladders
and　sometimes　short　drops　into　underlying　tunnels　—　but　their　guides　had　assured　them　that　they
knew　where　they　were　going；　that　the　best　way　to　reach　the　Ice　Palace　was　to　come　up　from　below
it。
They　were　sloshing　their　way　along　another　stinking　tunnel　when　Palinev　brought　them　to　a　halt。
“Does　anyone　else　hear　that？”　he　asked。　“Something　up　ahead。”
They　fell　silent；　still；　listening；　and　they　could　all　hear　it　now；　could　feel　as　well；　the　flow　of　the
usually　stagnant　sewer　water　about　their　shins。
Something　was　coming　this　way；　swimming　this　way。
The　mutants　were　the　first　to　react；　to　turn；　to　look　at　each　other　in　pale…faced　horror…　and　to
run。　One　of　them　slipped　through　Grayle’s　fingers；　but　the　other　was　caught　by　Barreski　and　pinned
against　the　wall。
“What　is　it？”　the　Ice　Warrior　yelled　in　the　mutant’s　face。　“What　are　you　afraid　of？”
“And　did　you　bring　us　down　here　on　purpose？”　spat　Blonsky。　“Were　you　leading　us　to　it？”　The
mutant　couldn’t　answer；　could　only　stare　and　babble　and　whimper　and　kick　in　a　futile　attempt　to
shake　off　Barreski’s　grip。
And　then　a　miniature　tidal　wave　slapped　out　from　the　opening　of　a　nearby　side　tunnel；　to　be
followed　an　instant　later　by　a　body：　green；　scaly；　sinewy；　bristling　with　eyes　and　teeth。　It　leapt　into
the　tunnel；　almost　bounced　off　the　wall；　landed　on　its　feet；　and　oriented　itself　with　incredible　speed
as　it　sighted　its　prey。
And　then　the　monster　was　upon　them。
Steele　had　been　alone　for　almost　an　hour。
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He　knew　this　because　his　internal　chrono　told　him　so；　it　had　kept　him　horribly　aware　of　every
second　that　had　passed。　And　because　of　that　drip；　that　infernal　drip；　marking　off　the　slow　passage　of
time；　one　beat　every　two　point　four　seconds；　a　total　of　fourteen　hundred　and　sixteen　drips　so　far。
He　half…stood；　stooped；　in　his　heavy　chains；　his　spine　aching　fit　to　break；　and　he　prayed　to　the
Emperor；　and　silently　cajoled　the　machine…spirits　in　his　bionic　eye；　but　they　were　deaf　to　his　pleas；
those　same　two　digits　frozen　in　the　HUD。
Thirty…five　seconds…
He　heard　footsteps　on　the　steps　outside；　and　he　knew　that　his　time　was　up。
A　small；　square　panel　in　his　cell　door　slid　open；　and　light　spilled　in；　almost　blinding　Steele　after
so　long　in　the　dark。　A　cultist　peered　in　through　the　hole；　satisfied　himself　that　the　prisoner　was　still
bound；　and　opened　a　heavy　lock。
The　door　creaked　open　to　reveal　a　tall；　thin　figure　standing　on　the　threshold。　Like　Steele　before
him；　this　new　arrival　had　to　stoop　to　enter　the　cell；　there　was　hardly　any　space　between　the　two　of
them　as　he　perched　on　a　narrow　ledge　in　the　wall　opposite　the　colonel；　arms　folded　casually；　a　smug
smile　twisting　his　lips。
He　was　no　longer　backlit　now；　and　Steele　saw　him　properly　for　the　first　time；　could　make　out　his
pinched　features。　The　newcomer’s　eyes　were　like　deep　black　holes；　into　which　Steele　felt　he　could
almost　have　fallen。　He　sported　no　visible　mutations；　but　he　wore　the　black　robes　of　a　cultist。　His
hood　was　folded　back；　to　show　off　an　elaborate　tattoo　that　spread　like　a　spider’s　web　across　his　face；
over　his　shaved　head；　behind　his　ears　and　down　his　neck。　He　also　wore　a　golden　sash；　and　a
general’s　shoulder　flash　on　his　right　shoulder　only　—　and　he　carried　an　ornate　sceptre　with　the　most
vile　obscenities　carved　into　it：　purloined　and　makeshift　symbols　of　rank　for　a　leader　whose　army
barely　acknowledged　the　concept。
“Let　me　introduce　myself；”　he　said　in　a　voice　as　smooth　as　silk。　“I　am　the　ruler　of　this　hive　by
right　of　conquest。　I　am　the　favoured　of　the　Chaos　gods；　a　high　priest　in　their　service。　I　am　your
jailer；　your　interrogator；　and　perhaps　in　time　your　executioner。　I　am　all　of　these　things　and　more　—
but　the　one　thing　you　need　to　know　about　me；　the　most　important　fact　in　your　life　right　now；　is　that　I
am　your　new；　your　only；　master。”
“Oh；　I　know　who　you　are；”　said　Steele；　not　bothering　to　disguise　the　contempt　in　his　voice。
“You’re　Mangellan。”
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CHAPTER　FIFTEEN
Time　to　Destruction　of　Cressida：　12。12。08
The　creature　was　moving　so　fast　they　barely　had　time　to　react。
It　came　surfing　towards　them　on　the　shallow　sewer　water。　Then　it　flexed　its　stumpy　legs　and　its
prehensile　tail；　and　sprang　into　their　midst；　shrugging　off　Pozhar　and　Anakora’s　las…fire。　The　Ice
Warriors　scattered　as　best　they　could；　but　the　tunnel　was　narrow；　confining。　The　creature　lashed　out
at　them　with　claws　and　fangs；　its　mouth　was　wide；　incredibly　wide；　its　teeth　like　chainsword　blades。
It　almost　caught　Gavotski’s　arm　in　its　jaws；　but　he　pulled　away　in　time。
The　creature　smacked　back　into　the　water　on　its　stomach　—　its　natural　orientation；　Barreski
realised。　It　was　like　an　alligator；　its　b