A Massacre in Marienburg by David Bishop

Author:David Bishop
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Black Library
Published: 2008-11-25T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER ELEVEN

‘The killing’s started.’ The Keeper knelt in the centre of the temple, twelve Knights of Purity stood around him in a circle. The cabal watched the Keeper mutter and whisper, pupils rolled back into his head, eyelids fluttering like butterfly wings, lips mouthing silent words and incantations between bulletins from beyond the temple. ‘The necromancer stands within Marienburg now. His taint is spreading, spreading…’

The Keeper stabbed the air with a finger. ‘Suiddock! He makes Suiddock his domain. He bleeds it dry, stains it with his daemonic seed, eats of the citizens, devours them flesh and bone, blood and soul, body and mind. He is come, he is come.’

‘A name,’ the cabal leader hissed. ‘We need a name.’

The Keeper shook his head. ‘He sees me, he knows I am watching…’

‘Give us his name!’

‘Farrak – his name is Farrak.’

That brought an audible gasp from the cabal leader, and murmurs of fear from among his brethren. ‘Then there can be no doubt any longer. Doom is upon us, and the prophecy has come to pass. Our time in the shadows is over. We must emerge.’ The leader pushed back his hood and stood revealed.

One by one, the other cabalists followed his example. Three were members of the Stadsraad, four came from the families of the Ten, and one was the watch commander’s adjutant. They looked at each other, finally able to acknowledge the identities of their brethren. The leader gave a rueful smile. ‘Strange that it should take such catastrophe to bring us together at last, but Solkan works in ways far beyond our understanding or our comprehension. His will is our command, his ways our beacon.’

‘Please,’ the Keeper gurgled, blood pouring from his eyes and nostrils. ‘Let me die before the necromancer claims me. Don’t let me become his weapon against you.’

The leader nodded to his fellow knights. As one they drew ceremonial daggers and stepped forwards, plunging them into the body of their medium. The Keeper died with an expression of beatific gratitude on his face, released from his burden of torment. As his blood pooled out across the floor, the cabal leader muttered a prayer of benediction.

‘Solkan, we thank you for the life of this messenger. He served you well all the years of his life, most of them locked inside an oubliette protecting your holy relics. Now he has made the ultimate sacrifice in your name. Take him unto you as a true servant of Solkan, and let him know all your splendour and glory.’ The others echoed his words, all the while wiping the blood from their daggers. Once finished, the knights returned to their places at the edge of the circle, waiting for their leader to speak.

‘Thanks to the prophecy, we know what comes next,’ he told them. ‘We all have our roles to play in the coming tragedies. The gutters and waterways of Marienburg shall run red with blood and the people shall suffer torments beyond imagining. But if we stay true to our course, keep to our beliefs and our credo, we shall emerge triumphant.

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