Ice Guard(科幻战争)-第28部分

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himself。　As　soon　as　the　virus　bombs　fell。
He　opened　another　hatch；　and　something　heavy　threw　itself　at　the　door。　Steele　leapt　back　by
reflex；　and　narrowly　avoided　a　clawed　hand　that　swiped　at　him　through　the　aperture。　He　discouraged
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it　with　a　blow　from　the　hatch’s　locking　bar；　and　its　owner　—　another　grey…furred　mutant　—　howled
and　recoiled。
The　vile　creature　was　still　howling　a　minute　later；　and　Steele　cursed　it　under　his　breath。　He　had
taken　cover　as　best　he　could　behind　a　rocky　outcrop；　and　was　wondering　if　he　dared　make　a　sprint
back　to　his　cell；　to　hide　in　there。
He　kept　his　good　eye　fixed　on　the　steps；　expecting　Traitor　Guardsmen　to　appear　at　their　head。　He
cast　around　for　a　weapon　with　which　to　greet　them　if　they　did；　but　could　see　only　rocks。　He
collected　a　few　anyway；　but　was　relieved　not　to　have　to　use　them。　The　mutant’s　howls　subsided　into
a　quiet　whimpering；　and　Steele　assumed　that　the　traitors　were　more　than　used　to　hearing　sounds　of
anguish　from　down　here　and　so　had　not　bothered　to　investigate。
He　recognised　the　prisoner　in　the　third　cell　at　once。
He　had　seen　him　only　once　before；　and　then　only　in　holographic　effigy　—　but　he　had　studied　the
image；　committed　it　to　his　enhanced　memory。
Confessor　Wollkenden　looked　thinner　than　he　had　in　his　hologram。　He　was　also　dehydrated；　his
skin　stretched　like　parchment；　but　his　bone　structure　was　unaltered。　His　prominent　jaw　was
unmistakeable。　The　hologram；　Steve　saw　now；　had　also　been　an　old　one；　showing　the　confessor　in
his　prime。
To　his　surprise；　Wollkenden　was　not　chained；　but　instead　lay　curled　on　a　filthy　mattress；　asleep；
wisps　of　white　hair　splayed　about　the　oval　crown　of　his　head。　Steele　fumbled　with　Furst’s　keys；
almost　dropping　them　as　his　hands　trembled　in　anticipation。　He　opened　the　cell　door；　stepped　inside；
leaned　over　the　prone　form　of　its　occupant　and　tried　to　shake　him　awake。　Wollkenden　didn’t
respond　at　first；　and　for　a　moment　Steele　feared　that　he　might　already　be　dead；　that　he　might　have
come　all　this　way　for　nothing。　Then；　as　he　tapped　the　confessor　lightly　on　his　pale　cheeks；　he　rolled
over　onto　his　back；　let　out　a　soft　groan；　and　his　eyelids　fluttered。
“Confessor　Wollkenden。　Confessor。　It’s　OK；　I’m　going　to　get　you　out　of　here。　Can　you　hear　me？
Confessor？”
Steele　glanced　over　his　shoulder　anxiously。　He　didn’t　know　how　much　time　he　had。　Somebody
had　to　know　that　Furst　had　come　down　here　—　and；　if　not；　they　might　yet　find　a　set　of　keys　missing
and　come　to　investigate。
He　took　Wollkenden’s　right　arm；　draped　it　around　his　shoulders；　put　his　arm　around　the
confessor’s　waist　and　hauled　him　to　his　feet。
“We　need　to　find　you　some　water；”　he　muttered。　“We　need　to　find　us　both　some　water。”
He　carried　Wollkenden　out　into　the　cavern；　walked　him　up　and　down。　He　was　gratified　to　feel
the　confessor　responding；　finding　his　strength　again　—　but　worried；　at　the　same　time；　that　he
wouldn’t　find　enough。
“Who…　who　are　you？”　the　confessor　asked　hoarsely。
“Colonel　Stanislev　Steele；　sir；　of　the　Valhallan　319th。”
“They…　sent　a　regiment　to　rescue　me？”　Wollkenden　seemed　to　find　the　idea　amusing；　although
Steele　had　no　idea　why。　Perhaps　it　was　just　relief；　or　a　mild　form　of　hunger…induced　hysteria　that
choked　a　spluttering　laugh　out　of　him。　“I　told　Mangellan。　I　told　him　they　wouldn’t　leave　Helmat
Wollkenden　to　rot　in　these　dungeons；　he　is　too　important…　too；　too　important。”
“The　Ecclesiarchy　is　keen　to　get　you　back；　confessor；”　said　Steele。　He　thought　it　best　not　to
mention；　for　now；　that　he　hadn’t　exactly　brought　a　whole　regiment　with　him。
And　then　Wollkenden　was　struggling　in　his　grip；　trying　to　stand　by　himself　although　he
evidently　wasn’t　able。
“Where　are　they？”　he　babbled。　“Where　are　your　men？　I　wish　to　address　them。　They　need　to
know　what　is　expected　of　them；　and　they　will　listen　to　me。　I　can　inspire　them；　turn　them　into
heroes。”
“I　know；　confessor；　but—”
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ed　around；　gripped　the　front　of　Steele’s　ragged　coat；　and　stared　intensely　into
his　eyes。　“That’s　the　worst　thing；　you　know；　the　hardest　thing　about　imprisonment。　So　much　time　to
think；　and　yet…　Did　they　tell　you　about　the　Artemis　System？　They　say　that；　without　my　words；　we
would　have　lost　a　score　of　worlds　to　the　Chaos　blight　there。”
“I　know　you　have　had　a　distinguished　career；”　said　Steele；　“but　we　ought　to—”
“What　am　I；　then；　without　an　audience？　What　am　I　without　my　voice？”
“We’ll　find　you　an　audience；”　Steele　promised；　“but　not　here。　Mangellan　is—”
“How　did　he　die？　Las…beam？　Grenade？　Did　he　live　to　see　his　Ice　Palace　fall？　I　imagine　that　was
some　sight；　yes？　Did　you　break　down　the　walls；　or　just　melt　through　them？　Water　running　through
the　streets；　washing　away　the　blood…　Oh；　I　knew　you’d　come；　I　knew　you’d　kill　Mangellan　for
taking　me；　I　told　him　so。”
Wollkenden’s　voice　was　getting　louder；　more　strident；　and　Steele　couldn’t　interrupt　him。　He
pressed　his　hand　over　the　confessor’s　mouth；　stifling　the　flow；　and　prayed　that　the　Emperor　would
forgive　his　discourtesy。
“With　respect；　sir；”　he　hissed；　“Mangellan’s　palace　has　not　fallen；　and　if　we　make　too　much
noise　his　men　will　be　down　here　in　a　second。　We　have　to　get　out　of　here；　and　we　have　to　do　it
quietly。　Do　you　understand？”
Wollkenden　nodded　frantically。　He　looked　almost　afraid　of　his　rescuer　now；　still　the　message
appeared　to　have　got　through　to　him。　Steele　removed　his　hand；　and　guided　the　confessor　to　the　steps。
It　became　apparent；　as　they　tried　to　climb　them；　just　how　weak　Wollkenden　truly　was。　He　slipped　on
the　purple　fungus；　and　would　have　fallen　on　his　face　had　Steele　not　caught　him。　With　each
subsequent　step　they　took；　he　threatened　to　overbalance　the　pair　of　them；　send　them　over　the　side。
Somehow；　though；　they　made　it　to　the　top。　Steele　lowered　his　charge　into　a　sitting　position；
cautioned　him　to　be　silent　and　still。　He　put　out　his　lamp；　flattened　himself　beside　the　doorway
through　which　he　had　been　dragged　almost　four　hours　before；　and　peered　out　into　the　Ice　Palace’s
grand　hallway。
A　part　of　him　had　hoped　to　find　the　hall　empty；　its　sentries　off…duty　for　the　night。　He　had　known；
however；　that　this　was　unlikely。　Almost　immediately；　he　heard　the　footsteps　of　a　pair　of　Traitor
Guardsmen；　and　he　shrank　back　into　the　shadows。　The　traitors　had　hardly　gone　by　when　another　pair
approached　from　the　opposite　direction。
Mangellan　had　set　regular　patrols。　Funny；　thought　Steele；　how　men　like　that　preached　Chaos　and
yet　were　so　quick　to　dispense　orders。　That　said；　there　was　no　point　in　his　trying　to　time　the　traitors；
to　deduce　when　there　might　be　a　gap　between　their　patrols　—　they　would　hardly　be　so　disciplined。
There　was　no　hope　of　crossing　the　hallway　unseen；　and　the　portcullis　would　be　guarded　anyway。
But　Steele　remembered　the　ice　bridges　spanning　the　expanses　between　the　palace’s　upper　levels　and
the　hive　streets　around　them。　And　closing　his　eyes；　concentrating；　he　also　remembered　something
else；　something　to　which　he　had　paid　scant　attention　as　he　had　passed　it　earlier。　He　remembered　a
door；　standing　half…open　—　and　behind　that　door；　the　base　of　a　winding　staircase。
He　would　have　to　rely　on　his　enhanced　ear　to　alert　him　to　approaching　patrols　—　and　on　the
Emperor’s　grace；　to　ensure　that　the　guards　at　the　entrance　wouldn’t　turn　and　see　him　and
Wollkenden　while　they　were　exposed。　But　Steele　thought　that　they　could　reach　that　door。　And　from
there…
The　palace　was　an　enormous　building。　There　had　to　be　places　in　which　they　could　hide。　And
maybe　they　could　find　weapons；　and　robes　to　disguise　themselves。　Maybe　they　could　find　an
unguarded　bridge。　Anything　was　possible…　if　they　could　just　reach　that　door。
Steele　crouched　beside　Wollkenden；　told　him　what　he　had　planned；　asked　him　if　he　felt　up　to　it。
Wollkenden　stared　through　him；　and　he　said；　“It　looks　majestic　out　there；　doesn’t　it？　All　that　ice…　It
reminds　me　of　the　victory　celebrations　on　Artemis　Major；　of　the　crystal　statues　they　erected　in
Imperial　Square。”
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Steele　explained　the　plan　again；　patiently。　Then　he　helped　Wollkenden　up　to　the　doorway　and
waited。
They　crept　out　behind　the　next　two…man　patrol；　Steele　praying　that　neither　of　the　traitors　would
look　over　their　shoulders。　He　could　already　hear　the　next　pair；　tramping　towards　them。　They　had…
his　processors　quickly　worked　out　the　figure…　eleven　seconds　before　they　came　into　view　around
the　grand　staircase。　He　tried　to　pick　up　the　pace；　but　Wollkenden　chose　that　moment　to　apparently
lose　all　strength　in　his　legs。　He　let　out　a　grunt　as　Steele　caught　him；　and　the　colonel　felt　his　heart
freeze；　expecting　the　sound　to　reveal　them。
Five　seconds…　and　the　door；　that　inviting　door；　was　still　an　unattainable　four　metres　away。
Wollkenden’s　chin　sagged　onto　his　chest。　He　was　losing　consciousness；　but　they　had　come　too
far　to　turn　back　now。　Steele　bundled　the　confessor’s　limp　body　into　his　arms；　almost　staggered　by
the　weight。　He　would　have　to　run；　have　to　sacrifice　silence　for　speed。
He　had　made　it　all　of　three　paces　when　Wollkenden　began　to　struggle　violently。　“No！”　he　yelled。
“No；　you　won’t　take　me　through　that　door；　you　won’t　put　me　in　chains　again！”
Steele　tried　to　hush　him；　made　to　put　his　hand　over　the　confessor’s　mouth　again；　but　it　was
already　far；　far　too　late。
Wollkenden　wriggled　out　of　his　grip；　tried　to　stand；　but　fell　to　his　knees；　and　crawled　up　to　an
ice　statue　of　a　leering；　gargoyle…like　figure。　“Help　me；”　he　beseeched　it；　extending　his　clasped　hands
towards　as　it　as　if　in　prayer。　“It　is　your　duty　to　help　me；　for　the　Emperor；　for　the　score　of　worlds　I
liberated　from—”
There　was　more；　much　more。　But　Steele　heard　none　of　it　—　because　Traitor　Guardsmen　were
streaming　in　from　all　directions；　even　through　the　door　that　he　had　hoped　would　be　his　escape　route。
And　even　if　he　had　been　in　any　condition　to　fight　them；　he　could　never　have　won。　Even　if　he　could
have　run；　there　was　nowhere　he　could　have　run　to。
They　were　dragged　along　endless　passageways；　Steele　and　Wollkenden；　by　cultists　and　traitors　—
their　numbers　growing　as　more　of　their　kind　rushed　out　of　their　rooms　or　abandoned　patrols　to　join
the　throng；　until　the　two　prisoners　were　all　but　borne　aloft　on　a　fast…moving　river　of　bodies。
Steele　said　nothing；　bearing　his　fate　stoically；　but　Wollkenden　was　delirious。　He　was　waving　to
the　crowd；　thanking　them；　assuring　them　that　a　parade　was　not　necessary；　that　he　had　only　done
what　any　man　of　his　considerable　talents　would　do。
They　emerged；　at　last；　into　a　large　courtyard；　bordered　by　four　sheer　walls；　overlooked　by
hundreds　of　windows。　Ice　trees　grew　around　its　edges；　reaching　sizes　of　a　hundred　storeys　tall；　their
branches　spreading　across　the　yard　to　intertwine　with　each　other。　Moonlight　streamed　in　through
this　intricate　frozen　web；　and　bathed　the　courtyard　in　a　cool　shade　of　blue。
Overlooked　amid　the　crowd；　one　cultist　watched　all　this；　and　tried　his　best　not　to　rub　shoulders
with　those　around　him。　He　kept　his　hood　pulled　over　his　head；　concealing　his　face；　and　was　careful
not　to　catch　anybody’s　eye。　When　the　crowd　yelled　out　anti…Imperium　slogans；　he　pretended　to　join
in；　although　he　couldn’t　bring　himself　to　give　voice　to　the　words