Auric Gods

Chapter Seventeen The Imperial Palace, Tower of Hegemon, Terra

Trajann Valoris was already waiting for them as Adio and Cartovandis entered the triumph hall. He sat at the end of a long wooden table, remarkable for the fact that it was hewn from actual oak and preserved by the arcane science of Adeptus Mechanicus magi. A host of rigid banners flanked the captain-general on either side. Mosaics caught the lambent light of lume-sconces. Both described past victories, and hung heavy with dust or were faded with age.

He reclined in the easy manner of a king comfortable before his court, his left leg outstretched and the other tucked in, a gold-armoured knee protruding. A red cloak lay across one shoulder, partially hooding the sculpted eagle of his guard. His lion mantle sat at his feet, a predator at rest. His helm, a fearsome mask of auramite crested with a blood-red plume, sat on one arm of his throne; the other supported Valoris’ elbow, and his hardy chin was leant upon a clenched and gauntleted fist. He had the manner of a philosopher, an appearance which held some truth, though his musings tended inevitably to the bellicose, to war.

He appeared not to have seen the two Custodians as they passed through the soaring arch, also decorated with the now lustreless glory of old crusades, the dusty bricks of a fallen empire. And then he spoke.

‘Take a seat,’ he said without turning, his voice low and deep, his attention on the darkness that only partly occluded craggy features riddled with the fissures of scars. Even in this rare, pensive state he radiated aggression. Not towards his comrades – his ire did not extend to the Ten Thousand but rather was a form of restiveness, a palpable energy too volatile to shackle. Sinews in his neck stood out, thick as rope, his jaw tensed, a possible prelude to wrath.

Cartovandis glanced at Adio; they had just been about to leave the cerebratory when they had received the summons. Adio gave the slightest inclination of his head. Like Valoris they went unhelmed out of respect for their kind, and they sat at opposite sides of the table.

It was only at this point that Cartovandis realised Valoris had not been not alone before they had entered. His companion stood cloaked by shadows, his hands clasped in front of him as if resting them on the pommel of an unseen weapon, though he was not ostensibly armed. Unlike the other Custodians in the room, he wore his helm, his shield host easy enough to determine even in the gloom: red shoulder guard and grey-white robes, one of the Emissaries Imperatus. Cartovandis stifled a momentary pang of envy, deeming his thoughts unworthy. At least he knew why they had been summoned here – the Emperor had willed it through His gilded proxy.

Neither Cartovandis nor Adio spoke. They settled into their seats and did not stir. They trusted they waited for good reason and saw no need to breach the silence with idle and pointless words. Both had set their helms down upon the table, and done so reverently, the mask of each as impassive as the face of its owner.

Valoris would address them when he was ready. Cartovandis realised the captain-general was still waiting for someone.

Before long, footsteps echoed down the gallery that led to the triumph hall. A single set, clipped, precise and metronomic.

Adio turned, and his posture stiffened as he recognised the newcomer.

So did Cartovandis.

‘Syr…’ the newcomer said.

‘Varo.’

Then he turned his head to address Adio. ‘Brother.’

Adio did not move, not even to acknowledge Varogalant at first. At last, he gave a curt nod.

Varogalant bowed. ‘Captain-general.’

Valoris gestured for him to sit, which Varogalant did, removing his helm as the others had and revealing the same swarthy complexion as his brother, only the Shadowkeeper looked gaunter around the eyes, which were brown like his skin. He had close-shaven white hair and a seemingly perpetual frown furrowed his brow. The burdens of his calling were obvious to all.

‘Tell them why they are here, Zayadian,’ said Valoris to the emissary, his mind seemingly still on the dark and the enemies he imagined there.

The Emissary Imperatus stepped forwards into the light.

‘I have heard the voice of the Emperor. He speaks each of your names,’ uttered Zayadian with heavy solemnity, ‘and bids you away from Terra.’

Cartovandis shifted in his seat, his reaction visceral and subconscious. The noisy scrape of chair legs drew all eyes to him.

‘This cannot be…’ he whispered, fighting down a growl of disbelief.

‘It is,’ Zayadian replied. ‘It is the speculum obscurus. Our conclave has determined it.’

Cartovandis was about to object more strenuously and even Varogalant had a query forming in his expression, before Valoris finally turned to regard them.

His bloodshot eyes spoke of anger, but his voice was calm, his tone measured.

‘Word has reached me from an old ally, one of the Eyes,’ he explained. ‘A threat to the Throneworld,’ he looked pointedly at Varogalant, ‘and the discovery of a relic of Old Night, stolen from the Dark Cells.’

Cartovandis noticed the slightest clenching of Varogalant’s fists and knew that the Shadowkeeper would voice no concern at leaving Terra now. In his mind, he was already on the hunt.

‘It is the Emperor’s will that you three meet this threat,’ said Zayadian.

Valoris turned his gaze on Cartovandis and Adio. If possible, he looked sterner than before.

‘Kazamende is dead.’

‘Mercy of the Throne,’ Adio hissed, leaning forwards in his seat. ‘How?’

‘It doesn’t matter how,’ snarled Valoris. ‘All that matters is what happens now. He was of your host, Adio. He must be avenged. The protection of the Aquilan Shields must be absolute.’

‘And what of me, captain-general?’ asked Cartovandis.

Valoris raised an eyebrow and it pulled at his scar tissue, rendering it even uglier and more savage. ‘I assume you do not question the Emperor’s will.’

‘I only wish to know. I have never ventured beyond the Throneworld. My place is by His side. What has changed?’

‘A great deal, I think you know.’

A great deal, echoed Cartovandis in his mind, choking back the grief of his isolation from the Emperor’s voice. A single word tore him from reverie. A name.

‘Meroved,’ said Valoris.

Cartovandis’ eyes widened a fraction. His jaw stiffened.

‘Yes…’ added Valoris. ‘I thought that might get your attention.’

Cartovandis’ gaze hardened. Even if he could, he would not refuse to come to the aid of his old comrade. He owed Meroved his life, but also his pain.

‘When do we leave?’

‘Immediately. A ship is being prepared for departure as we speak,’ said Valoris.

‘Then we should make ready,’ Adio cut in, eager to be under way. He spared a glance for his brother but then looked away.

‘And where are we bound, captain-general?’ asked Varogalant, showing none of his brother’s unease.

‘Kobor, at the edge of the Sol System. Meroved’s report will be made known to you on the way.’

Cartovandis was the first to rise.

‘If there’s nothing further…’

Valoris nodded, bidding them on their way.

Adio and Varogalant followed, the latter waiting for the former and last to leave as they exited the triumph hall headed for the transport bay and the Coronus grav-carrier that would ferry them to their voidship.

Trajann Valoris watched them go.

‘A long time since they fought together, captain-general,’ remarked Zayadian.

‘The Emperor’s will is not without its quirks.’

Zayadian gave a mirthless laugh.

‘It was at the Lion’s Gate,’ said Valoris.

‘I remember it.’

‘As do I, Zayadian,’ Valoris replied, his words thickening with anger and grief. ‘As do I.’