Desert Raiders (Warhammer 40,000) by Lucien Soulban

Author:Lucien Soulban [Soulban, Lucien]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Black Library
Published: 2011-02-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

‘The mind is for seeing, but it is the heart that listens.’

– The Accounts of the Tallarn

by Remembrancer Tremault

1

Turk listened as Hussari gave his report and signed off. The command bunker returned to its tomb-like quiet. After a moment, Nisri studied the tactical plate and issued terse orders to the operators, Major Dashour and himself. Commissar Rezail and his adjutant finally left the room to examine the abatis spear trench laid at the foot of the outside wall using strips of metal from the drop containers.

When Dashour left, Turk walked up to Nisri and made sure to remain absolutely calm throughout whatever would happen next. He couldn’t get angry. All their lives pivoted on his ability to remain calm. Tyrell’s advice was still fresh in his mind and he knew that this was the right course for both men, despite what it meant to their egos.

‘I would speak with you as an equal, one prince to another… alone,’ Turk said quietly enough for his words to pass only between him and Nisri, ‘but I will obey your decision as one soldier to his superior officer.’

Nisri looked up, a flash of annoyance burning on his face, but Turk would not back down. This was a matter between two princes and the tribes they commanded.

‘Now’s not the time, lieutenant-colonel.’

Turk sat down in front of Nisri and continued whispering, low enough not to draw the attention of the operators. ‘I believe it is. You can court-martial me, and you can execute me, but Commissar Rezail is not here. This is a matter between two tribesmen and not soldiers. Give me a minute. After that, I will follow your direction as your subordinate, praise the Emperor in all things.’

Nisri sighed and finally stared Turk straight in the eyes. The colonel looked fatigued, the weight of his decisions and the inevitability of their fate a sure toll on his spirit. ‘Fine… as one prince to another, what is it?’

‘The caves,’ Turk whispered, ‘you wish them to be a gift to your tribe, correct?’

‘Not according to your views,’ Nisri responded.

‘What I think of the caves is not in question, is it, Prince Dakar? What matters is what the caves mean to you.’

Nisri thought about it for a moment. ‘Yes,’ he said, finally, ‘very well. The caves are for my tribe… for staying true to our faith,’ he added as a small jab.

Turk bit down on his words and allowed Nisri his petty moment. ‘What, then, if you’re being tested?’ Turk asked. ‘What if this is another ordeal? Choose between your duty to the Emperor or the gift He bestows? Which is more important?’

Nisri straightened, instantly aware of the argument’s implications. ‘It is no such thing, Prince Iban Salid. We have found a paradise worthy of the Turenag, and I will not be the ruin of it.’

Turk leaned forward. ‘The Aba Aba Mushira would not give you a paradise, just to fill it with scorpions. He would not offer you an oasis, just to poison it.’

‘What

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