Inquisitor Eisenhorn Omnibus by Warhammer

Author:Warhammer [Warhammer]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2012-04-09T01:37:59+00:00

THE CARNIFICINA JUTTED up from the thrashing sea like the molar of a massive herbivore, the gum eaten away.

It had not been built so much as hollowed out of the upthrust crag. There wasn't a wall on the prison isle thinner than five metres.

Vicious plungers broke in white spray around its granite base and the western aspects were open to the worst of the pelagic abuse from the oceans beyond. Icebergs from the calving glaciers at Cadu Sound and the distant Caducades Isthmus jostled and splintered in the open water between the prison isle and the barren atolls opposing it.

Kelp and hardy, lean axel trees decorated its lower slopes.

The lighter swung in over the eastern ramparts and settled on a pad cut from the stone. I was marched under guard out into the cold sunlight, and then into the dank hallways of the rock. The white-washed walls sweated and stank of seawater. Rusting chains ran down from the ceiling to the hatches of forgotten oubliettes.

I could hear the shouts and screams of prisoners. The demented and infected of the Cadians lived here, mostly ex-servicemen who had been driven mad in the wars of the Eye.

The Cadian troops handed me over to a squad of red-uniformed prison guards who reeked of unwashed flesh and carried pain-flails and leather whips.

They opened up a fifty centimetre-thick hatch cover riven with studs, and pushed me into a cell.

It was four paces by four, cut from stone, with no window. It stank of piss. The previous incumbent had died here... and never been removed.

I pushed aside his dry bones and sat on the wooden bunk. I knew nothing. I had no idea if the Cadian Interior had captured that rogue starship, or if anyone had managed to track the flight of the thing that had been poor Husmaan.

The path to Quixos, the path we had been so lucky to strike at last, was disappearing by the second as we played these games. And there was nothing I could do about it.

WHEN DID YOU first decide to consort with daemons?' asked Interrogator Riggre.

'1 have never done so, or decided to do so’

'But the daemonhost Cherubael knows you by name’ said Interrogator Palfir.

'Is that a question?'

'It-' Palfir stammered.

'What is your relationship with the daemonhost Cherubael?' cut in Interrogator Moyag sternly.

'I have no relationship with any daemonhost’ I replied.

I was chained to a wooden chair in the great hall of the Carnificina, winter sunlight shafting down from the high windows. Osma's three interrogators stalked around me like caged beasts, their robes swirling in the draft.

'It knows your name’ Moyag said testily.

'I know yours, Moyag. Does that give me power over you?'

'How did you orchestrate the atrocity at Thracian Hive Primaris?' asked Palfir.

'I didn't. Next question’

'Do you know who did?' asked Riggre.

'Not precisely. But I believe it was the being you have referred to. Cherubael’

'He has been in your life before’

'I have thwarted him before. One hundred years ago, at 56-Izar. You must have the records’

Riggre glanced at his colleagues before replying.

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