Lords of Blood, page 85
‘Ah, Arran, just the man,’ said Danakan without looking behind himself. His coat took all his attention. Three attempts were required to do up the lowermost clasp.
‘I have the reports on the recrewing efforts here,’ said Juvenel. He held out the dossier.
‘Put it down over on the table,’ said Danakan. ‘I’ll get around to not reading them later. You may report the highlights to me now. I assume under your able guidance the Dominance will soon be void worthy?’
‘The ship is fine,’ said Juvenel. He dropped the dossier by the candelabra. It slapped loudly on the dark wood. The admiral was making jokes. That was a good sign.
‘Good,’ said Danakan. ‘She’s a good old warhawk. I’d hate to see her die.’
‘It’s the crew that’s going to be an issue in the future. We’ve enough men in the fleet to get her back to Baal, but I wouldn’t want to take us into an engagement. After the attack a lot of the ships are dangerously undermanned.’
‘A great benefit of our Imperium, Juvenel, is that men are always in ready supply.’
‘Are they now, though?’ said Juvenel. ‘System after system devastated by xenos and worse. All of them cut off from contact. The Astronomican out, the astropaths deaf.’
‘It’s not a good picture.’
‘No,’ said Juvenel. He lowered himself into an armchair. Clouds of dust rose from the upholstery, and he coughed. ‘Emperor’s bones, where have they put you?’
‘This is a very large ship, with not that many people on it,’ said Danakan. By now, he had reached the middle clasp of his coat. ‘I doubt anyone has been in here for generations.’
‘It certainly looks like it. This mix of furniture is maddening.’
Danakan looked about. ‘Yes. Old. Only half of it sized for normal men. I tried to sit in that.’ He jerked his head in the direction of a huge chair made to Space Marine proportions. ‘Extremely uncomfortable. My feet didn’t reach the floor. I’d go back to the Dominance if Dante hadn’t insisted on keeping me here.’
‘Why?’
‘Strange as it is to say, I think he wants some company,’ said Danakan. He had reached his throat. The clasps were becoming increasingly fiddly the higher he went. The fastenings were designed to be hidden within the join of the cloth, and the lack of space to move his fingers hampered Danakan. That they trembled didn’t help. Juvenel noted that. Perhaps the admiral was not quite so well as his behaviour suggested.
‘I assume he’ll let me go back before we depart,’ said Danakan.
‘You’re not a hostage, my lord.’
‘You seem to be managing without me, lieutenant.’
‘Maybe you should step down then, and let me run the show?’ Juvenel joked.
Danakan’s response was devoid of humour, and Juvenel knew then that he wasn’t getting better at all. ‘I do want to step down. I don’t think I can do this any more, Juvenel. It’s just… I fear I am not going to recover, but Dante insists. These dinners he has with me, he’s telling me about his past. Before Teleope, I think I would have been fascinated.’ He fiddled with his collar then swore. ‘Damn thing. Help me with this, would you?’
Juvenel came forward and struggled with the last few clasps at the high neck of the coat. ‘These things are impossible,’ he said.
‘Whoever designed these uniforms never thought about comfort,’ said Danakan. He tilted his neck, exposing his throat to the lieutenant. ‘I wonder who did design them?’
‘Someone thousands of years dead. That’s better,’ Juvenel said, snapping a clasp shut. ‘Lord Dante is doing you a great honour.’
‘I don’t deserve it. Not any more.’
‘You are a great commander.’
‘It’s high time for me to retire.’
‘Then convince him to let you stand down.’
‘Hungry for command, eh, Arran?’ said Danakan. The sharpness of his response reminded Juvenel he was on dangerous ground.
‘Yes, of course I am. But not at your expense, sir. I’m thinking about my career. I’m thinking about our men. If you freeze again…’ Juvenel tailed off. He had thought often what would happen if Danakan froze again.
‘Don’t you think I know that? Don’t you think I know how many lives depend on me not making another mistake?’ Danakan said testily. His beard’s untrimmed, ragged ends tickled Juvenel’s fingers.
‘I’m sorry, sir.’ Juvenel’s hands dropped from the clasps.
‘Don’t stop!’ Danakan growled. ‘I can’t do it myself, can’t you see that? Like every bloody other thing, I need you. I should retire, but he’s not going to let me. He’s made that abundantly clear. How can I refuse the regent of Imperium Nihilus. I mean – ow! Emperor’s will, man, you’re pinching me.’
‘Almost got it,’ said Juvenel through gritted teeth. ‘And there we are.’
The admiral’s greatcoat was closed all the way up. Medals gleamed in intimidating abundance on his left breast.
Juvenel stepped back and smoothed down the front of Danakan’s uniform, plucking stray hairs from it, and adjusted his belt.
‘How do I look?’ asked Danakan.
‘Fit for a meeting with a man who rules half a galaxy.’
‘I don’t think I’ll ever be fit for that,’ said Danakan. ‘This is a difficult coat to wear. Damn annoying that I’ll be in it only as long as it takes me to walk through those doors. Can’t eat in it. Ceremony. Pompous nonsense.’
Juvenel took Danakan’s sword from its stand and handed it to his superior.
‘What are you going to do, sir, if he really won’t let you step aside?’
Danakan gave a tight smile as he took the weapon. It tautened the aged skin around his jaw. Just for a second, his eyes glinted with the ferocious courage he was once known for.
‘I better bloody well get better then, hadn’t I?’
For a moment Juvenel’s heart lifted, but then he glanced up into the admiral’s eyes, and saw the fear in them.
Danakan hooked the sword onto his belt. The admiral’s face was grey with lack of sleep. Despite his attempt at boldness, he was worn down. Juvenel was looking at a beaten man.
‘I need a drink,’ said the admiral. ‘I shall see you later. Keep up the good work, and keep me informed.’ The door slid open to let him out, but Danakan stopped in the opening. He gripped the edge with his hand. ‘I understand what you’re trying to do for me, Juvenel.’ He didn’t look back. His voice cracked with emotion. ‘I appreciate your efforts.’
‘It is my duty, sir,’ said Juvenel.
‘It’s not, you know,’ said Danakan. ‘It’s not at all.’ He stood a little taller. ‘I will remember.’
Dante was waiting for him in a drawing room. The setting was far less formal than the banqueting hall. Dark wood panelling covered over the plasteel inner skin of the hull. A fire burned in a grate beneath a fluted extraction unit. A table that was low for a Space Marine was surrounded by chairs of differing sizes, although as before they were all made in the same style. On the table were a small number of plates with various delicacies upon them. Dante was standing, reading from a book on a solid wooden lectern. Like the furniture in Danakan’s quarters it was old, polished by the touch of so many hands that the carvings had become soft-edged. He looked up when the door opened, and gave Danakan a warm, genuine smile.
‘I am glad you accepted my invitation, Danakan.’
‘It is my pleasure, my lord,’ said the admiral.
One of Dante’s servants came forward from the shadows, undid Danakan’s weapons belt and took his sword and pistol. Another undid his coat and swiftly slipped it from his shoulders. He bore it away so quietly the medals did not so much as clink.
‘Your thralls have defter fingers than either myself or Juvenel. It takes me an age to get that coat done up,’ said Danakan.
‘You have no servants?’ said Dante.
‘All dead, I expect. I have a few of my guard with me here on Bloodcaller, but they make awful handmaids.’
‘I did not think.’ Dante shut his book with a soft thump. ‘I am sorry. I will assign you some of my thralls.’
‘You have a lot on your mind, my lord.’
‘Indeed I do. Please, as I said before, do not feel the need for such formality in future.’
‘I am a man of the Imperial Navy, sir. I have standards to uphold.’
‘Yes, of course.’
Danakan paused. ‘That was my attempt at a joke, my lord. I would be grateful to leave the coat behind.’
Dante smiled apologetically. ‘I find it hard to tell sometimes,’ he said. ‘I am not without humour, but we Adeptus Astartes can be overly serious.’
‘These are serious times.’
‘Sit.’ Dante gestured to one of the chairs. ‘The dinner seemed to be a little too much last time, so I took the liberty of opting for a lighter meal today. Do not feel obliged to eat, if you do not wish. On the other hand, if this food is not sufficient, then I shall have my servants prepare you something more.’
Danakan was quietly horrified that Dante saw how much he was struggling. He wasn’t hungry at all, but forced himself to taste some of the smaller canapés on offer, some sort of seafood on a hard, dark bread. He began to chew mechanically, but slowed, then began again enthusiastically.
‘This is delicious,’ he said.
Dante took a giant chair opposite him and poured them both some wine, from the same carafe this time. ‘My staff includes a number of excellent cooks. I understand that for men in your position, small amounts of flavoursome food are best.’
‘My position.’ Danakan looked down. A scream from the past rang in his mind, so clear he was half sure Dante would hear it too. ‘Yes. A tactful way of putting it.’
‘Tact is another thing that the Emperor’s gift strips from us,’ said Dante. ‘Have I offended you?’
‘No,’ said Danakan.
‘Good.’ Dante held out a goblet to the admiral. Danakan took it. Dante had such an earnest expression, it reminded Danakan of a child’s desire to please.
‘To your good health,’ said Danakan. He raised his goblet and attempted a smile. It came a little easier than in their previous meeting.
‘To yours,’ said Dante.
They drank.
‘Eat, Seroen. Eat your fill. Listen to me now, and I shall tell you more of what happened at Kallius.’
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
AMBUSH
Metal scraped loudly on Dante’s combat knife as Lorenz attempted to lock his quillons onto the blade and wrench the weapon out of his grasp. Dante was ready for the move, twisting hard, binding the weapons together. Lorenz stepped close, his bare forearms pressing into Dante’s. They were close. Chests touched. Sweat mingled.
‘You’re not going to win, not in a contest of strength,’ Lorenz panted into Dante’s face. He turned his weapon harder, putting pressure on Dante’s grip and forcing the grip around in his palm. ‘I’m stronger than you. I always have been. Yield.’
The leather binding slipped on Dante’s sweat. Lorenz would pull down hard next, yanking the weapon out from his hand, cutting into his thigh, and leaving him open to an upper thrust – though he’d stop short of actually gutting him, he would stab him lightly a few times, just to show he could.
‘Yield, or I’ll make you bleed, Dante,’ said Lorenz.
‘You never lost your sadistic streak, did you?’ said Dante. The weapon turned further; in a moment it would be aligned perfectly with the opening in his fist, the weakest part of the human grip.
‘Baiting me won’t make this easier for–’
Dante interrupted Lorenz with his forehead. Reinforced bone smashed hard together with a loud tock. Lorenz’s eyes widened in surprise. The scent of genetically enhanced blood from his burst nose flooded the room. He stepped back with a look of outrage on his face so comical Dante almost laughed. Instead he threw his weight forward, kicked out his foot, hooked it around Lorenz’s ankle and slammed his shoulder into the taller Space Marine’s chest. Lorenz went down hard onto the matting. Dante followed him, elbowing Lorenz’s weapon arm aside, and landing across his chest, knees pinning Lorenz’s biceps to the ground.
‘You yield,’ said Dante.
Lorenz growled. Red sparked in the depths of his eyes. Dante was sure he was touched by the Thirst, but then he spat red.
‘I yield,’ Lorenz said. He sniffed wetly. ‘You want to wash your training robes, brother, you smell offensive.’
‘Are you some kind of child, employing such insults?’ said Dante. He got up and offered his hand. Lorenz wiped off his face before taking it. Already his blood was crusting around his nose, though the orbits of his eyes were dark with bruising that would take at least a day to fade.
‘So say you, resorting to smashing my nose in with your head.’ He prodded carefully at his injury.
‘You did not expect me to do it. I am too honourable, you say. I acted outside my usual behavioural patterns, and therefore I won.’
‘All per the Codex. Still very you.’
‘You should read it more often.’
‘Should I now?’ said Lorenz. He hawked up another fat blood clot and spat it on the floor, and his voice cleared. ‘You have read it a hundred times, yet it took you a couple of centuries to try something as low as a headbutt.’
‘That is incorrect,’ said Dante. ‘It only took a couple of centuries to use it on you. I do not like hurting you, Lorenz. You are my friend, but I was finding your jibes tiresome.’
Lorenz grimaced and pinched the bridge of his nose hard. With a wrenching crack he forced it back into place. He swore loudly.
‘The gutter speak of Baal Secundus, issuing from an angel’s mouth,’ said Dante.
‘Oh, so now you’ve discovered a sense of humour too,’ said Lorenz.
Dante spun his combat knife around. ‘There is a lot you do not know about me, brother,’ he said. ‘I challenge you again.’
‘That’s the first time you have beaten me for a long time,’ said Lorenz, retrieving his knife. ‘It’ll be just as long until you do it again.’
Lorenz swished the knife through the air. It was huge, with an upturned point and serrated teeth along the blade, part machete, part dagger, as long as a mortal human’s sword.
‘This time, I will not be going easy on you,’ he said.
Dante dropped into a fighter’s stance, knees bent, knife held out in front of him.
‘Begin,’ he said.
They circled each other, neither making any sort of decisive move. Lorenz was usually more aggressive, but he was cautious now. Their eyes were locked, their movements controlled, neither of them willing to give anything away.
The ship dipped suddenly, enough to make them sway. They looked at each other.
‘What by the blood…?’ said Lorenz.
‘Gravity wake,’ said Dante.
‘From what?’ said Lorenz.
The alarms began to sound.
‘Incoming ships,’ said Dante.
Lorenz sheathed his knife and went to the door of the training cell, snatching his tunic from a hook on the way. He slapped the door release, and stepped out into the wider gymnasium. There were a few dozen other Blood Angels there undergoing various training regimens; fewer than was normal. Most had had their fill of fighting.
The alarms blared on. The ship juddered. Accelerative force pushed at Dante.
‘We’re turning.’ Dante tried his vox-bead. His ears filled with squealing static. ‘And we’re being jammed.’
The ship’s vox-network boomed on. Chapter Master Remael’s voice addressed them. He sounded as if he were speaking over the hardlines.
‘Brothers, arm yourselves. Enemy fleet inbound, thirty thousand miles and closing. Prepare for immediate combat.’
The vox snapped off. The ship trembled under the first long-range lance strikes a few moments after that.
There were many armouries aboard the Bloodcaller; all of them were filled with sudden activity. The one assigned to Eighth Company was no different. The gymnasium was a short run away from the armoury, but by the time Dante and Lorenz arrived it was already teeming with battle-brothers hurrying into their armour while dozens of thralls rushed to and fro.
‘By the Angel, it’s chaos in here!’ said Lorenz disapprovingly.
Dante pushed his way through the mass of men. ‘Some of our warriors are missing armour pieces. Their equipment is in the forge, with no time for replacements. No time to repair, no time to resupply.’
The ship shook. Lumens blinked.
‘They’ve already taken one of the shields down,’ said Lorenz. ‘They must have broken warp right on top of us.’
‘The vox carrier waves are still blocked. I’ll get some confirmation as to what’s happening,’ said Dante. ‘Blood of Baal, out of my way!’ he shouted, pushing past a sweating thrall carrying a pauldron stripped down to the bare ceramite.
More impacts followed. The ship shook under an intense, close-range barrage. The lumens blinked off completely, leaving the armoury saturated in the blood red of emergency lighting. Dante reached a hardline vox-set, wrenched the housing door open and lifted the speaking horn.
‘Dante, captain, Eighth Company, requesting elucidation of current situation,’ he barked into the receiver.
A mortal answered him tensely. ‘Enemy forces on top of us. Two warp exit points, cutting in at the fleet from both sides. Lead assets are within close engagement range. Predicted void shield failure within thirty seconds. All Chapter warriors to prepare to repel boarders. Chapter vox undergoing restoration to full function now. Armour yourself, captain, and await further direction, so orders Commander Remael.’
Dante slammed the horn back into its box.
‘Prepare my armour!’ he roared over the tumult of voices and whining power tools.
