Auric Gods

Chapter Nineteen City of Vorganthian, Kobor, within Terra’s light

A teardrop of light fell through the darkness, trailing fire. At first it looked like a candle flame flickering against a night without stars, but as the drop-ship drew closer to the tower it was clear a figure writhed in those flames. Flailing limbs became visible until the drop-ship swept by so close that those aboard could see burning hair and a mouth stretched in the agony of a soundless scream.

An astropath plummeted from the Tower of Sight, but he was not alone. A second light followed the first – another astropath, awash with shattered glass from the window she had just broken through. A third followed the second and then a fourth, dying fireflies spiralling to their doom. After almost half a minute, the first astropath reached the smog layer and his light dimmed, glowing for a few more seconds until it was gone. Until they were all gone, lost to the dark.

The entirety of the city had darkened with their passing, the only illumination now coming from the guttering fires of crashed ships that lay broken apart in the middle of transit-ways or smashed against the sides of buildings. Destruction ran rampant but Vorganthian was still, like a wounded prey animal waiting to die.

‘There…’ Standing on the ramp of the open rear hatch, Cartovandis gestured to a landing apron spared the worst of the carnage.

Adio looked up from the grav-bench, a small flashing device shaped like a bullet casing in his hand. ‘He’s close to this location.’

Cartovandis nodded and opened the vox to the cockpit.

‘Set us down. South-east, six hundred and fifty feet.’

The drop-ship began to bank and turn. Spires and watchtowers loomed across the viewports, as black and devoid of life as the rest of the city. Communication across the sector appeared to be dead too.

Cartovandis closed the vox. ‘We go the rest of the way on foot.’

‘Can we assume he’s even alive?’ asked Adio.

‘We must,’ Cartovandis replied, walking back into the troop hold.

It had taken several weeks to reach Kobor. It was a minor world, all but forgotten by most galactic cartographers and sitting at the very edge of the Sol System, but it had taken on significance beyond its meagre station and drawn the eye of the Aegis. Whatever was happening here, it had neutralised an entire hive city and apparently threatened the Throneworld.

‘Even if Meroved has perished, the Vexen Cage remains,’ said Varogalant, his tone as grim as his armour. ‘We have a duty to reclaim it.’ He lurked in the shadows, facing the rear ramp but at the back of the hold, slightly apart from the others.

‘And I owe a debt,’ Cartovandis replied, ‘and would see it repaid.’

Adio looked down, as if to his own thoughts. ‘And there is the matter of Kazamende.’

Cartovandis sat down heavily, facing Adio, who wore a stern expression, one that did not suit his countenance but that had not leavened since they had left the Throneworld. He appeared ill at ease. It was not difficult to understand why.

‘You both speak of ends that serve your own desires,’ said Varogalant.

Adio turned. ‘Whereas yours are selfless, brother.’

‘Honour and brotherhood are far from selfish,’ Cartovandis reminded them both.

‘I know what is at stake if we fail here,’ said Varogalant.

Adio looked about to say something. Instead, he took his helmet, which had been clamped to the grav-bench where he was sitting, and walked from the troop hold into the cockpit.

As the door slid shut behind him there were a brief few moments of silence.

Varogalant scowled. ‘I know you would prefer it otherwise,’ he said.

‘Speak plainly, Varo.’

The engines throbbed noisily with descent thrust, the inner hull reverberating with the stress.

‘You and my brother…’ said Varogalant. ‘You would rather I were not here.’

‘I will take every ready sword of the Ten Thousand into a fight in which I do not know the odds.’

Varogalant chuckled. It was humourless and did not suit him. ‘I always thought of Adio as the diplomat.’

Cartovandis smiled, his eyes cold. ‘I do believe you bled that out of him.’

Varogalant’s expression darkened.

‘Is that regret I see?’ asked Cartovandis.

A whisper answered. ‘Yes…’

‘I will say this, Varo – you are here. All of us are. It is the Emperor’s will, such as we can know it. Trust in that. Perhaps there is meaning to this beyond what we can perceive.’

‘Is that why you left the Throneworld?’

‘I left because I was ordered to.’

‘You could have refused. No, I think you left because you are hoping there is meaning. Tell me, how long has it been since you heard the Emperor’s voice?’

Cartovandis jerked as if stung. He opened his mouth, but could not find an answer.

‘To have felt His grace only for it to be taken,’ said Varogalant. ‘It is a heavy burden, I imagine. Did you think He was dead?’

Cartovandis’ gaze hardened.

‘Did you think your brother was dead?’

Varogalant smiled grimly. ‘Don’t try to deflect. You’re better than that, Syr.’

‘I thought He was dead,’ Cartovandis admitted.

‘If it is any salve at all, I do not think you were alone in that assumption.’

‘And then I saw one of His reckless sons brought back to life. A miracle.’

‘And you hoped.’

‘I hoped.’

‘Be mindful of what you seek here, Syr… Lest you become lost to it.’

‘Your brother once said something similar to me.’

‘Then perhaps you would be wise to listen. The Vexen Cage is all that matters. That and nothing more.’

‘Varo, old friend,’ Cartovandis replied, smiling sadly, ‘there is much more at stake than that.’

Varogalant leaned back in his seat, letting the shadows claim him, and said nothing further. Cartovandis turned his attention to the device that Adio had left behind on the grav-bench. It winked intermittently, a tracking beacon leading them to Meroved. What would happen after they reached him, he could not say.