Eisenhorn: The Omnibus (Eisenhorn: Warhammer 40,000) by Dan Abnett

Author:Dan Abnett [Abnett, Dan]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2022-11-05T00:00:00+00:00

TWENTY-TWO

FARNESS BETA

CHERUBAEL AND PROPHANITI

QUIXOS

It was early in 343.M41 before we reached Farness Beta. By then, war was bifurcating the Cadia sub-sector, and armies of sheer horror were spewing out of the Eye of Terror. Like a whirlpool of fire, the Eye dominated the skies of most gate-worlds, distended and angry, flaring more savagely than at any time in living memory. Every flash and pulse of its maelstrom was another warp hole opening, another flotilla of death unleashed. That spring was known as the Staunch Holding of the Cadian Gate, and entered the history books, as every scholar knows.

During the first months of 343, the Cadians saw off the greatest incursion of Chaos suffered in three hundred years.

It was almost as if the Archenemy knew something.

The Essene brought me to Farness champing and eager to get on. We were escorted through the immaterium by two other ships: Ricci’s stately steeple of a cruiser and Voke’s ancient porcupine of a warship. Endor and Grumman, along with their retinue bands, travelled aboard the Essene with me. It had been a long time since the Essene had carried so many people.

The Imperial Navy taskforce, a ten-ship squadron seconded from Battle­fleet Scarus for special operations under the remit of the Battlefleet Disciplinary Detachment, was waiting for us.

The taskforce had already been on station for a fortnight, and its reconnaissance and intelligence operations had comprehensively prepared the ground for us.

‘We have a confirmed location for Pariah,’ Lord Procurator Olm Madorthene told me over a vox-pict link from his own ship.

Pariah was the operational word we had set for Quixos. ‘Or at least his seat of activity, anyway. I’m relaying the data to you now. Site A is what you’re looking for.’

I turned from my seat on the Essene’s elegant bridge and Maxilla nodded to one of his beautiful servitors. The map display flashed up on the secondary screen of my console.

‘I have it,’ I said, turning back to look at Madorthene’s slightly fuzzy image on the main bridge display.

‘It’s a table mountain called Ferell Sidor, literally the “altar of the sun”, up in one of the remote northern wards of Hengav province. Provincial government has declared the whole ward a Sacred Territory because the area is riddled with Second Dynasty tholos tombs. Access is supposed to be restricted to the Ecclesiarchy, the Farnessi royal families and sanctioned archaeologists. We believe Pariah obtained licenses to excavate on Ferell Sidor about six years ago, in the guise of an archaeological mission from the Universitariate of Avellorn. The local authorities are supposed to monitor such missions, but frankly they have no idea what he’s up to there. If you look at the detail map…’

‘Yes, got it.’

‘You can see the extent of the workings. Pariah’s constructed a small town up there, alongside the pit.’

‘The excavation is considerable…’

‘We think that’s where he’s buried or sited this facsimile pylon. It’s difficult to get a clear view. We didn’t want to get too close and tip him off.’

I rose from my bridge throne and stood facing the enormous image of the lord procurator’s face.

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