Once a Killer... by Mitchel Scanlon

Author:Mitchel Scanlon
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-09-02T13:40:58+00:00

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Mitchel Scanlon is a full-time novelist and comics writer. His previous credits for the Black Library include the Horus Heresy novel Descent of Angels, Fifteen Hours, the background book The Loathsome Ratmen, and the comics series Tales of Hellbrandt Grimm.

An extract from The Wraithbone Phoenix.

+ + Outgoing Transmission + + +

> VIIX-*****-M41

> Sword-class Imperial frigate Sunstriker

> Captain Augustus Ludovico commanding

> Xenos ship destroyed

> Asset recovered

> Resuming patrol

+ + Transmission Ends + + +

The ratling held his breath, peering down into the gloomy passage below. The servant placed the dessert tray upon the altar of service with a gentle clatter. The light of the servo-candles glittered upon the captain’s decanter. Knowing the man’s palate, that decanter likely contained a measure of Cyranian amasec, which the captain had been keeping to one side in the officers’ vinarae. The ratling watched as the servant rang the little bell beside the shuttered service portal then made the sign of the aquila as he retreated, head bowed. The shutters opened quietly a moment later, and a pair of hands wearing soft grey gloves took the tray and lowered the shutters back down.

Herbo Prongfork listened to the rumble of the void-engines for a moment or two, then climbed down from between the iron cornucopia that trailed around the rafters of the provisioners’ passage. Dessert had just been served. There shouldn’t be any more servants through here for a while now. Herbo marvelled at the feel of the thick carpet under his big, bare feet. He lifted himself on tiptoe, leaning over the altar of service as he peered through the gap at the bottom of the shutter.

He saw the captain straight away, seated and encased in gleaming livery. Captain Augustus Ludovico alive and laughing and handsome as a summer’s day. Thank the Throne. Word had reached the culina that he’d been wounded by a salvo that hit the command fortress, horribly burned rescuing one of his officers from the wreckage. Herbo had arrived just in time to see the captain finishing his poached carrofruit with gello-crumb garnish, a Prongfork family recipe perfected by his great-great-grandling Looma Prongfork.

He watched Captain Ludovico take another spoonful, savouring its sweetness. Herbo kissed the Prongfork sigil embroidered onto the breast of his apron, a garment handed down by ­Grandling Looma herself. He felt breathless and light-headed, gazing into the darkened passage behind him. He would face worse than a disciplinary if he was caught spying on the captain. He worked a finger under the shutter, trying to get a better view of the chamber beyond.

The captain’s private wardroom was nothing like the officers’ mess. The captain sat with his back to a waterfall of crimson drapes, open to a disc of patterned glassaic, through which Herbo could make out a vast shadow cruising alongside. Their fellow escort frigate, the Dawnspear, and somewhere nearby would be the Herald of Truth, the venerable cruiser they were charged with protecting.

There were uniformed musicians up on a balcony, faces dreamy as they played a delicate melody.

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