[Warhammer 40K - The Horus Heresy 32] - Deathfire by Nick Kyme

Author:Nick Kyme [Nick Kyme]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Military Fiction, Science Fiction, Warhammer 40K
ISBN: 9781782517733
Publisher: Black Library
Published: 2015-05-18T12:00:00+00:00

Aboard the Monarchia, the light from the doused hololith faded, leaving Quor Gallek in darkness.

He heard Degat’s heavy, agitated breathing nearby.

‘He will try to betray us,’ said the master sergeant.

‘Almost certainly,’ hissed Quor Gallek. ‘Which is why, when you have killed Narek, you will end the life of Malig Laestygon also.’ He turned. Degat’s muscular silhouette was the only visible sign of the warrior. ‘Does that appeal to you, brother?’

‘It does,’ said Degat, sucking in a satisfying breath.

‘How many devoted souls do we have aboard this ship, Degat?’

‘Over two hundred.’

‘They are hardened warriors, yes?’

‘I trained them, so yes.’

‘Laestygon acted too soon. His hand slipped on the leash of his men, and the Drakes burned them for it. But we are wise and will choose our time. Did you know that when a daemon passes through the warp, it leaves a spoor, a hook that can be seized then followed? Think of it as a path through the Sea of Souls, ephemeral but possible to traverse with the right kind of imprecations.’

Degat grunted. ‘Fewer riddles, preacher. How will you use my men?’

‘I mean to lead them on a path,’ said Quor Gallek as he drew something from within the folds of his robes. It was a blade, slightly more than finger’s length, but extremely sharp. Not one of the fabled Shards of Erebus – this knife did not part the materium. It had a different purpose.

‘If a witch uses an athame to conjure and curse, what is the tool of a chirurgeon?’

Quor Gallek turned the blade to examine it, and the minuscule teeth along its silver edge gleamed in the light, so fine they were almost invisible to the naked eye.

‘A scalpel,’ growled Degat, his humour hard to discern from his belligerence.

‘A scalpel,’ Quor Gallek agreed, remembering how he had stolen upon the battlefield to remove one of the Gorgon’s fingers with which to forge it.

No bone, no blood, just an unearthly metal that yielded as soon as life had left its host. Asirnoth had passed its gift on to the Iron Hands. That power had come to Quor Gallek. The scales of one drake to cut the flesh of another and take what was embedded within.

‘They fell upon him like jackals, Degat,’ Quor Gallek said in a shallow voice, remembering. His distaste for the deed was obvious, despite what it had offered up to him. ‘It was far from a glorious death. I think it might have been fear that made them do it, that made them tear at him like that, as if by reducing the Gorgon to nothing but bone and blood his anima would no longer pose a threat.’

‘I care not, preacher. Just tell me what you plan.’

Quor Gallek eyed him viciously for a moment, as if the madness he had just recalled somehow lingered past the deed whenever he spoke of it, but swiftly regained his composure.

‘We will do as Laestygon asks. But we will take what is ours also and cut the fulgurite from Vulkan’s own flesh.

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