In among the people of the town, there was a face Augusta knew.
An older face, male, lined with sun and smiling – she remembered his name as Subul.
He had been one of Kawa’s followers, strong in his faith.
Now he had the symbol of Khorne carved deep into his forehead, and his own blood was caked dark around his eyes.
‘Hold!’ She commanded the squad to cease fire.
The people were stopping. They looked like the hounds, snarling and straining, but Subul seemed to be their leader and their voice, and they paused to let him come forwards.
‘I knew you would come back,’ he said to her. ‘Sister.’
His voice was deep and layered with power. He wore horror like a cloak.
He raised his chin, facing her down. Around him, the villagers stared, their eyes full of lunacy. A single ork stood with them, as daemon-crazed as the rest.
‘It was you,’ Augusta said. ‘You led them here.’
‘Of course.’ He grinned. ‘They followed me, and willingly. They dragged Kawa from her home, and offered her to the oldest god of all, the god of our past! Some offered their skulls, others… still wait for that honour.’ He spread his hands like a conjurer. ‘Witness,’ he said. ‘Innocent lives – the lives you once swore to protect and save. What will you do, Sister? Will you gun them down?’
‘They have turned from the Light,’ Augusta said. ‘Forsaken the Emperor–’
‘Emperor, Emperor, Emperor.’ Subul snorted. ‘What is your Emperor but a corpse? What is your Emperor but a rotting excuse for your barbarous acts? How many times have you witnessed his punishments, the horrors done in his name – they all lurk here, Sister, you have seen them! We are the same, you and I – soaked in the blood of innocents.’ He was staring at her, his expression livid, intense. ‘Join us, Augusta. Join us as your Sisters did.’
What?
That stung. Her hand tightened on her blade and she stood to her full height, inhaling the hot stink. ‘Felicity would not surrender her faith. She is a member of the Order, a follower–’
‘Of Saint Mina?’ His laugh was harsh, mocking, laden with implication. ‘Felicity saw the truth, Augusta. Saw the truth of your Order’s history, its thirst for blood. Saw what you red-clad women really are.’
‘You will perish by my hand,’ Augusta told him. ‘By my faith.’
‘You and your false God.’ Subul grinned, the expression savage and somehow wider than his face. His teeth were sharp and coated in gore, in shreds of flesh. ‘Do you not know where you are, Sister Superior, where you have blundered in your ignorance and your blind faith? You have your eyes so fixed on Terra, you cannot even see your boots.’
‘I do not play these word games.’ Augusta snorted. ‘You are a heretic, and I am done speaking with you.’
The people were chanting now, rhythmic and soft. It sounded almost like the Sisters’ battle litany, but the words had been warped, twisted.
That we wouldst bring them only death…
That we wouldst spare none…
The villagers began to move forwards again, their eyes afire, their hands outstretched. They passed Subul and spread outwards into the chamber.
Augusta stepped back, allowing her squad their field of fire.
‘Then gun them down,’ Subul said, as they surrounded and concealed him. ‘They are weaponless, defenceless. Gun them down and fulfil your warlike cravings!’
‘You cannot assail my faith,’ Augusta said. ‘They are heretics. I shall not suffer their lives.’
Behind her, five bolters cocked ready with a noise that rang from the rock.
The people of the town died.
Despite Subul’s taunting, Augusta had no doubts – the people had followed falsehood, and their lives were forfeit so that their souls might still be saved. They had no hope facing the Sisters’ weapons, and they fell and they bled and they died, and their lives leaked slowly into the filling pool.
As the bolters finally silenced, as Caia and Melia walked among the dead, Augusta found herself staring at the floor.
The blood was soaking into stone, spreading out through the rock by some strange osmosis, some chemical effect that she did not fully understand.
Soaked into the stone, Jatoya had said.
The truth of your Order’s history…
An odd, cold chill went down her back – something she was missing, something else that was happening here…
Not just the daemon, something more.
Akemi, her armour spattered in blood and her bolter still smoking, said, ‘He made us take the daemon’s lives for it.’ She was beside Augusta, staring at the now-full pool, and her voice contained the first hints of anger, new and jagged. ‘He made us feed it.’
‘These people, Akemi,’ Augusta told her, ‘have been saved twice. They walk in the Light.’
Akemi looked around at the destruction, the twisted spread of death that the Sisters had wrought. ‘I understand that,’ she said. ‘But I… I dislike being a game piece.’
‘Hold to your anger, Sister,’ Augusta told her. ‘It a gift from the Emperor and it brings you courage, and resolve. But…’ she paused, holding Akemi’s gaze through her visor, ‘…control it. Never let it master you.’
The vox crackled as the responding channel opened, but before Akemi could voice her answer, Augusta heard something else.
Something moving.
Something big.
The vox-channel closed again as all six women stopped to listen. The corruption was moving, out there in the tunnels. It felt like power, like cruelty, like hunger, like anger. It seemed to pulse through the very stone.
‘I cannot see Subul,’ Jatoya commented.
Augusta looked round at her second-in-command. ‘We must find him.’
‘He is not among the dead,’ Melia said. ‘He must have used the people to cover his escape. Though where he was going…’
‘Can we not follow him?’ Augusta asked. ‘I suspect he will lead us to the heart of this complex.’
The truth of your Order’s history…
Do you not know where you are?
What had he meant?
But she dismissed the thought – she had no time for speculation. Akemi was right, somewhere, the hounds’ masters were gathering power, sucking in the blood and the souls that had been shed within their auspice.
As if it had heard her, the sound came again – deep laughter, mocking and rich and hot. It came with a flare of pure greed, a craving sense of fury and appetite that made the sweat slide down Augusta’s back.
We are the same, you and I – soaked in the blood of innocents…
Viola raised the heavy bolter. She indicated the far side of the chamber, and the doorway that Caia was now scanning with the auspex.
‘We can follow him,’ Caia said. ‘If we move swiftly, and he stays within our range.’
‘Good,’ Augusta said. ‘Let us not release him from our sight.’
Viola stood up, heavy bolter reloaded and ready to take point, but Augusta held up a hand.
‘No, Sister,’ she said. ‘Walk rearguard and ensure nothing is following us. Jatoya, take point.’
‘Aye.’
The squad’s second-in-command came forward to take Viola’s place, and Viola moved as ordered – but Augusta did not miss the resentful flash in the younger woman’s bright green eyes.
They headed further into the maze.
Here, the walls of the tunnels were studded with skulls in the manner of an ossuary, bleached-white bones in elaborate patterns, streaked with blackened and ancient blood. In places, the angled and leering spirits of the Age of Strife were etched into the stone, their obsidian and mica covered with long-congealed gore.
The Sisters’ suitlights moved across the patterns of the dead. Between the bones, silent archways opened in every direction, caked with the rust-coloured moss. Behind them, endless corridors led away into the darkness.
The Sisters had no idea where they were. Augusta found herself fighting for breath, fighting the sensation that the weight of the rock above her was pressing, down, down upon her shoulders, that she would falter and fall, and the darkness would rise to swallow them as it had done upon Hephaestus.
Beside her, Melia had stopped. She was leaning against the wall, trying to reload her already loaded bolter. Augusta put a hand on her arm.
‘Stop. The weapon is ready. It holds the faith of our Order and its own strength. Remember to pray, Melia, the Litany of Truth. It will clear your mind of the darkness.’
Melia said, her voice shaking, ‘Ego veritatem tuam.’
‘We must go on. Cleanse the core of this place.’
Do you not know where you are?
A curl of fear was growing in Augusta’s heart. She knew that they should check every tunnel, that they should ensure their exit route, and not leave the possibility of enemies at their backs. But she also knew that they could not let Subul get too far ahead of them. And her instinct told her to head down, always down, that the thing they sought lurked somewhere in the catacombs’ bowels.
And that they needed to reach it before Subul assaulted them again, and its power grew.
At last they came through the final skull-framed archway and turned down a wider, stone tunnel that was precarious with its sharp descent.
Here, the moss was even thicker. It made their footing soft and slippery, and it filled the air with spores that seemed to hover like insects. It also interfered with their preysight, and further confused the auspex in Caia’s hand.
But still, they headed steadily down. Side exits became smaller and more uneven, and many led upwards, back towards the light; tiny rooms offered stone beds that indicated cells, these ones empty of devices. At some point, people had lived down here.
But those people were long gone – now, there was only the darkness. And the more they progressed, the more Augusta could feel it, that hot, close pressure that seemed to condense in her chest, making her breathing thick and heavy.
She began to recite the Litany of Mettle, feeling the others steady as she did so.
They moved on, Jatoya’s quiet strength at their head.
As they advanced, the hot wind became stronger, blowing in their faces from something ahead of them.
From the place, Augusta was sure, where the daemon would be manifest.
But when they reached the end of the tunnel, even the Sister Superior stopped to draw in a breath.
The tunnel opened out onto a walkway, a flat and narrow span of stone that crossed a chamber like some vast and bottomless pit. Jatoya had paused in the cover of the tunnel-mouth – her flamer was a shorter-range weapon and of little use unless they were attacked upon the bridge.
Augusta came forwards to look out over the drop.
Beside the bridge and stretching down into the darkness were eight titanic, carved figures, hundreds of yards tall. They bore masks with gruesome, tooth-filled grins, carried blades or great whips in iron and brass and volcanic stone. And at their feet, somewhere far below, there was the faintest glimmer of flame.
Augusta’s certainty was absolute – the Emperor had guided them. This was exactly where they were meant to be.
‘We will find a way down,’ Augusta said. ‘Caia?’
‘Subul has turned away from the main passage, and is still ahead of us.’ She indicated the last of the side-tunnels, a maw into darkness. ‘If we want to keep him in range, we’ll need to follow him, and swiftly.’
‘There is corruption below us,’ Augusta said. ‘I can hear it, feel it. We must face it.’
‘Is the bridge secure?’ Jatoya asked.
‘The density of the stone is unchanging, Sister,’ Caia said. ‘The bridge is secure.’
‘Good,’ she said. ‘Sister Superior – what is your decision? Do we pursue Subul, or do we cross?’
Augusta came to the very edge of the tunnel and looked out over the drop, her belly lurching. The floor was too far to see, but the flashes of firelight were unmistakeable.
‘We cross by twos,’ she said. ‘Jatoya, Caia, you first, and secure the far side. The rest of you, watch and give covering fire. If anything moves, shoot it.’
‘Aye,’ Jatoya said. She paused to eye the open expanse of the bridge. ‘On the double, Sister Caia. Ready?’
The two women timed themselves the count of three and then ran, tiny red figures in the expanse of the chamber, their black and white cloaks snapping behind them as they raced across. Caia slipped and Jatoya paused to steady her companion, but they reached the far side without mishap.
‘Melia, Akemi.’
Two more red figures ran.
At the rear, Augusta glanced at Viola. She had left them until the last deliberately, and now she put her hand on the younger woman’s shoulder. Over a private vox-channel, she said, ‘Steady, Viola. You are strong, and you’ve come a long way from the young woman who shot the ork warlord.’
Viola said only, ‘Aye.’ She seemed to think about it for a moment, then added, ‘I wish this were that simple.’
Augusta chuckled, the sound one of long years of battle experience. ‘One thing the God-Emperor teaches,’ she said, ‘is that no two fights, no two foes, are ever the same. Trust in His wisdom and remain strong.’
Viola nodded, looked as though she was about to say something further, but a cry across the vox made them both look up and across the chasm.
‘Sister!’ The voice was Jatoya. ‘You need to bear witness!’
Augusta gave Viola’s shoulder a brief, tight grip, then let her go.
And they ran.
Augusta was not wild about heights. She wasn’t afraid of them, exactly, but they made her queasy to the pit of her stomach – of all the tests of her faith, drop-pod missions were about her least favoured. But, as ever, she pushed the nausea aside – she could not indulge such things. As she ran, though, she was still painfully aware that they had no cover, and that if anything shot at them, there would be nothing they could do – even if a bullet did not penetrate their armour, the impact would be enough to make them fall.
Down, down into the depths…
They reached the far side safely.
As they crossed once more into the security of the surrounding stone, Caia was there to meet them, her injured arm cradled to her, her breathing harsh. ‘We found the others.’ Her voice caught. ‘But Felicity…’
The weight of the sentence was enough.
Augusta pushed past her and into the last room, the final room of the complex that was not the lurking pit below.
‘By the Light!’
Dropping to her knees, she touched the front of her armour, her heart in her mouth.
Another mockery, another taunt.
In here lay the remains of Sister Felicity’s squad – shattered armour, rotting and dismembered limbs. They had been arranged in a pattern, deliberate, some ghoulish mockery or design, and five flayed skulls sat in a pile in the centre, all of them covered in blood.
Five.
Not six.
Felicity herself was still missing.
Viola had stayed by the exit and was still watching the bridge. The rest of the squad joined the Sister Superior, kneeling to the members of their Order, now lost to the darkness.
‘Blessed be their memories.’
They stayed like that for a long moment, repeating the prayer. Then Melia pulled a small candle from her kit and placed it upon the floor, lighting it with a prayer of her own.
‘We will not let this pass,’ Melia said. She, too, was beginning to sound angry. ‘We will finish this.’
‘Aye,’ Augusta told her. ‘We will. And then we will place the monster’s head upon the altar of the cathedral itself.’