'Two days after they got back, Khiron walked into the apothecar-ium and put his boltgun to the head of Brother Krates, one of the wounded from Cozan. Just like that.' 'But... why?'
Strabo shrugged. 'They say Khiron claimed Krates was an instrument of the warp, and that he was protecting the Chapter. But there was no proof. It seems more likely that Khiron's mind had gone. The loss of his squad and everything. He's been locked away, raving, so I heard. There may be a trial, but more likely just... oethanar!
Priad shook his head. It all seemed so unlikely. Khiron was one of the most level-headed and respected Apothecaries in the Iron Snakes. To lose his mind... 'You wanted him to take Memnes's place?' 'Yes,' said Priad.
'I'd leave it alone, brother. Look elsewhere. Khiron is no longer of the phratry.'
After the evening bell and a brief break for nourishment, the routines of combat practice recommenced. Damocles squad returned to the sparring hall to put some more petitioners through their paces.
Dyognes was a certainty in Priad's mind, and there had been two others with promise. Now, in the evening session, two more performed well, especially a thickset youth called Aekon.
Lexicanium Phrastus had also brought one of his suggestions for Apothecary, a blunt, grey-haired man called Sykon. Priad didn't take to this Sykon much, though it had less to do with the man's bearing and more to do with Priad's state of mind. Khiron was going round and round in his thoughts.
He'd known and admired Khiron since his own days as a petitioner, and indeed had been intending to try for Ridates squad when Raphon called him to Damocles. The selection to one of the Chapter's most prestigious squads, one of the Notables, had shocked and honoured him. Priad had not then recognised his own worth. Only afterwards did he discover that he was one of the top petitioners of his year and that several squad commanders had argued over him. Priad had been unusual in that he had not joined the Iron Snakes with any burning ambition for advancement. Many of the petitioners dreamed of induction into Skypio, or the Terminator elite. For Priad, it was enough just to be an Iron Snake. A place in one of the standard tactical squads like Ridates would have been more than enough for him. With hindsight, he wondered if that very lack of ambition had got him to where he was. Perhaps the Chapter commanders noticed him because he had been more concerned with solid warcraft and service than on promotion or glory.
It was certainly what he had seen as appealing in Dyognes and Aekon. They came to the mat with none of the strutting bravura of others. And those others usually left the mat on their hands and knees.
Priad conducted the last few bouts of the session himself. He tried not to take out his exasperation on the poor fools who came up against him, fumbling with the cnokoi as if they'd never held one before. He tried to remind himself that every one of these men had taken at least one water-wyrm single-handed. They were Ithaka's best. Priad left them gasping and spitting blood on the mat.
'That's it.’ Priad called, and the group broke up. He handed the cnokoi to one of the petitioners to return it to the wall rack. Phrastus came over.
'I don't think I have to ask...' the lexicanium began.
'Unless you've got something better to show me tomorrow, sir, my choices are Dyognes and Aekon.'
'Good choices, I believe.’ said Phrastus. 'At your word, I'll confirm the selection with Captain Phobor and then prepare the induction rites. They will be Damocles by the end of the month.'
He paused. 'About the Apothecary. His induction should take place at the same time.'
'Let me meet both candidates here tomorrow at seven, and I'll give you my choice after that. Bring the inductees too – Dyognes and Aekon, and the others we have marked as possible. I'll review them all one last time to be sure.’
'There is still time tonight, brother-sergeant.'
'Tomorrow, sir, please.'
The tholos lay beneath the Chapter House, founded deep in the rock crust of Karybdis. A punishment blockhouse it was, thanks to the meticulous discipline of the Chapter, seldom used. Its most common residents were prisoners of war, held pending interrogation under the watchful eyes of the Chapter Wardens.
Phybos, the night's duty-Chapter Warden, was a grizzled veteran who had lost both legs and an arm on Kinzia five decades before. He wore a long, grey beard and tied back hair, and his mechanical carriage grumbled as it carried him down the cold stone passage.
'This is irregular, brother-sergeant.’ he complained.
'But permitted?'
'Yes. I suppose. Do you have a reason?'
'Do I need one?'
You're the leader of Damocles squad, brother. No, you don't.' Phybos paused and tutted, shaking his head at something.
'Has he said much?'
'You're joking!' Phybos replied. He tutted again and yelled, 'Shut up, in the name of the primarch!'
Priad frowned. He had heard nothing.
'He's raving, raving night and day.’ Phybos said, moving on. 'You hear that?'
Priad couldn't.
You won't get any sense. And don't get too close to him, either.’
Phybos stopped in front of a heavy bronze door and slowly unlocked it, using the chain of keys around his scraggly neck. The door swung open to reveal an inner cage door, and beyond that, a gloomy cell containing Apothecary Khiron.
'There.’ said Phybos. 'Raving, like I said.’
Khiron wasn't raving. He was seated at the back of his cell, silent, staring out at the open door with intense eyes. His face was bruised and purple around the nose and cheek.
'Leave us.’ Priad said.
'Don't be too long, brother.’ Phybos answered, and trundled away. 'Priad.’
'Brother Khiron.’ 'No brother now, I'm afraid.’ said the older man. 'I am cast from the phratry.’ 'Why did the Chapter Warden say you were raving?' asked Priad, approaching the bars.
'Am I not raving? Am I not hurling abuse and torrents of blasphemy at the cage?'
'No.’
'I see. That's what most men think I'm doing.’
Why?'
'Because th-' Khiron paused. 'It doesn't matter. I'm grateful you see me and not a deranged monster. But there's no point trying to explain it to you. It wouldn't do any good, and they'd just claim I was trying to deceive you.’
'I-' Priad began, but didn't really know what to say.
'Let me ask you a question.’ said Khiron. 'Why have you come?'
'I couldn't believe the stories. I wanted to see for myself.’
I'm a curiosity now, am I?'
Priad shook his head. 'I didn't mean it like that. Damocles lost Memnes on Ceres. I was hoping to induct you as a replacement. My choice has been... blocked.’
'Memnes... dead?' Real sadness clouded Khiron's wise, swollen face. 'Then we have both suffered our losses this season.’
'Ridates will be mourned. Brave brothers all.’
Khiron rose to his feet, but did not approach the bars. 'Crossfire. In a gully. Dead, all of them, in less than six minutes. Only some cruel chance spared me. Stray shots brought down the gully wall and I was buried in rubble. The impact broke my cheek and nasal bone, as you can see. The Archenemy thought I was dead too.’
He fixed his stare on Priad. 'I wish I could have done more for them. More than just dig their progenoid glands out of their cooling bodies, one by one.’
'You did all you could.’ Quietly, Priad was trying to goad Khiron. If the loss of his squad really had snapped his sanity, these raw questions might expose that and convince Priad. But Khiron remained calm.
'Have they decided on a trial?' Priad asked.
'No. I have asked for oethanar. It is set for two sunsets hence.'
Oethanar. Trial by wyrm. The worst fate a man of Ithaka could undergo. Left alone and unarmed on a stilt rock, he would face the wyrms as they were summoned. If he was alive at the end of six hours, his guilt was determined. The water-wyrms would not touch the tainted. If they took him, he was one of Ithaka's and his innocence would be celebrated in funeral so
ngs and grief rites.
'May they take you cleanly and quickly.’ Priad said.
'Thank you, brother.'
Priad turned to leave and stopped. 'If you are facing oethanar anyway, tell me.’
'Tell you?'
'The truth of it as you know it.’
'The truth of it, eh?' Khiron sat down again. 'Aren't you afraid I'll taint your mind?'
'Just tell me.’
'A daemon, Priad. A thing of the warp. It was on Cozan, in the air, in the foliage, haunting us and directing the enemy beasts. It orchestrated the massacre of Ridates squad. But it was a cowardly, feral thing. When Thebes squad overran its minions, it fled and it hid.’
Where?'
'Where? In Brother Krates. It was inside him when they brought him back, wounded. No one could see it. No one knew it was there. It blinded them all with its daemon glamour. But I knew it was there.'
'How?'
'I could smell it. I'd been close to it, remember. It had passed right by me after the massacre, believing me to be dead under the rockfall that smashed my face. I will not forget the smell.’
'What smell?'
Khiron looked up at the cell roof for inspiration. 'It has no equivalent. Once you smell it, you know it.’
And that scent was on Krates?'
'Yes. It wasn't Krates any more. It was that thing, cackling and jubilant to have been brought inside the Chapter House, ready to strike at our heart. That's why I took my gun to poor Krates.’
At least you can go to the wyrms knowing you stopped it.’
'No, Priad.’ said Khiron, his face alarmingly serious. 'It's still here. I killed Krates but I didn't kill it. Like a fool, I used a gun instead of flames. It's moved on, into another host.’
Now Priad felt uneasy. This did seem like mad-talk to him. 'I haven't smelled anything.’
'Of course you haven't. It's gulled the whole Chapter House. But it's still here, be sure of that, tricking you all.’
Phybos reappeared suddenly and slammed his baton against the bars. 'Cease your raving, scum!' he shouted, though Khiron's voice had been low and soft. The old Chapter Warden turned to Priad. 'Haven't you heard enough?'
'I think I have.’ said Priad.
The hall of the balneary was quiet and dark, lit only by the lamps along the inner kolonos. The main bath pool was fifty metres square and filled with sacred sea water imported from Ithaka.
Priad stripped off his bodyglove and dived into the water. He swam a lap or two hard and then floated on his back, looking up at the starlight filtering in through the circular window in the domed roof.
He suddenly realised he wasn't alone.
Above the soft lapping of pool water against stone, he could hear the faint pat of bare feet on the kolonos.
He waited for a call of greeting or a splash, but none came. After a minute or two, he folded at the waist and cartwheeled down under the water. Submarine noise roared in his ears. In the low light, he saw the legs of men moving through the pool towards him on all sides.
Priad surfaced. Six men surrounded him, standing where the pool was shallow enough, confidently treading water where it was deeper.
They were the surviving members of Phocis squad.
'Priad of Damocles.’ said one. 'You injure us.’
'I what?'
"We are wounded by Chaos and you take Chaos's side.’
'No! Why would you think that?'
'We know you spoke with Khiron.’ growled another. 'That bastard is warp scum! He slew Krates! He did a daemon's work!'
"Why would you show him pity and talk with him?' asked yet another.
'I showed him nothing. I wanted the truth.' 'The truth?' snarled a man to his right.
'You would scorn Phocis squad so?' asked the warrior next to him.
'Brothers... I have nothing but respect for Phocis squad. Why have you come here like this? What is your intent?' Priad tensed. Inter-squad fighting was unheard of in the Iron Snakes, but he knew that in some rowdy Chapters, rivalry sometimes led to brawls between brothers.
Was Phocis's honour so damaged they had turned on him now? At the least, this was intimidation.
'Speak!' Priad persisted. 'What is your intent, brothers?'
'Enough!' A strong voice echoed from the pool side. Priad squinted, and made out the tall shape of Captain Skander, leader of Phocis squad.
We've said what we needed to say,' Skander announced. 'Do not insult my squad again, Priad of vaunted Damocles.'
The members of Phocis withdrew, climbed out of the pool, and followed their commander out of the balneary.
Priad was left alone in the shadowy water.
IV
It was just after seven, three hours after dawn bell. Priad had rested badly, his mind more troubled than ever. Now he stood in the centre ring of a combat mat in the sparring halls, a cnokoi in his hands.
'Sir?' asked petitioner Aekon, edging out onto the mat to face him.
'Aekon?'
"You seemed to be elsewhere, sir.'
'As you were.'
Priad set the pole down and paused for a moment. On the mat next door, Xander was sparring with Dyognes. Near the arched doorway, Lexicanium Phrastus was introducing the Apothecary candidates Sykon and Eibos to Andromak and Pindor.
Down away, down the length of the sparring halls, Priad could see Captain Skander leading the men of Phocis through hand combat drill. Beyond them, Sergeant Strabo was conducting flamer practice with the men of Manes squad, and paidotribae were exercising other petitioners.
Priad's superhuman senses could smell burning promethium, sweat, furze and, from Phocis, the background taint of salt water from the pool the night before.
He had almost told Andromak and Pindor what had happened in the balneary, but didn't want to be responsible for a squad feud. Shaking the thoughts off, Priad swung his cnokoi up. 'Let's begin.’ he told Aekon.
They exchanged a few, paltry pole-to-pole hits. Priad knew he could block everything the youth hooked at him.
'You'll have to do better,' Priad said, adopting the laoscrae. His attention was caught by Captain Skander, yelling at one of his troopers while looking Priad's way. Skander glowered. 'Sir?' Aekon asked, faltering.
'Let's begin, I said!' cried Priad and brought the bronze pole up at Aekon's face. The boy turned, and deflected Priad's follow-up. Priad circled again, and blocked with his cnokoi. He glanced sideways, and saw Skander was staring at him, as if he wanted Priad dead. Priad fumbled.
Light and pain exploded behind his eyes. Taking advantage of the sergeant's momentary distraction, Aekon had struck him squarely across the nose with his cnokoi.
'Sir! Sir, I'm sorry!' he could hear the petitioner gabbling. 'I thought you'd block, I thought-'
Priad got up onto his knees, his head swimming. The boy had got a sound blow home. Priad's vision was fogged, and blood was pouring from his cracked nose, spattering across his chin and chest. There was a fuss of voices around him, and beyond them he could hear scornful cat calls and jeers from the men of Phocis and
Manes squads.
He put his hands to his face. His nose was broken, and his left cheek bone too. The blow would have crushed a normal human skull.
'It's all right, Aekon.’ Priad slurred, spitting blood. 'It was my fault for not concentrating. You saw an opportunity and took it. I'd have been more offended if you'd pulled the blow. There's no room in Damocles for men who show quarter to the enemy.'
He got up, blinking tears out of his eyes, feeling the soft tissue of his face beginning to swell as his enhanced metabolism dealt with the injury. Now he could smell nothing but the iron scent of blood, potent and stifling.
'Golden Throne, brother! The boy's hurt you worse than all the scum on Eidon ever managed!' chuckled Andromak, steadying his arm.
'Let me attend the wound.’ said Sykon.
Priad shook them all off. 'Stop fussing over me like pack-mothers! Enough!' He could see better now and the self-sealing mechanisms of his
augmented blood-vessels, along with the genetic clotting agents in his blood, were already staunching the flow. 'I'll go to the Apothecarion when this session is finished. Right now, Aekon and I are conducting a bout.'
He wiped his face with the back of his fist and left a smear of blood across his knuckles. Apart from the stink of blood, his sense of smell was registering nothing. Aekon's blow had probably damaged the olfactory augmetics too.
'Go, go!' he snapped, waving the anxious Aekon back to his starting place on the mat.
Blood. And more than blood.
Priad realised it suddenly. There was a smell, a strong scent behind the lingering dominance of his own blood. Sweet, yet stale. Soft, yet strong. It was...
It was like nothing he'd ever smelled before.
It has no equivalent. Once you smell it, you know it.
The smell of murder, of obscenity, of insanity. The smell of the warp.
'Brother-sergeant?' Aekon was staring at him, puzzled.
Priad ignored him, turning to scan the chamber. Close, so close by...
He could hear his own pulse beating in his temple like a drum.
Where? Where?
Priad started to move, to run. He left Aekon standing on the mat. Over his shoulder, he yelled, 'Damocles, form and cover, Hades spread!' Stunned, reacting, the men of his squad broke from their bouts and conversations and leapt to follow him.
One bound took Priad onto the practice platform where Phocis squad was drilling. He shoulder barged one of the men who had intimidated him in the balneary and sent him sprawling. Another half turned, and Priad elbowed him aside.
'Skander!' he bellowed.
Captain Skander's eyes were wide in surprise.
Priad's cnokoi smashed him to the floor.
Dazed, Skander had wit enough to roll as Priad's next blow clubbed down. The bronze pole made a dent in the wooden platform.
The men of Phocis howled in rage. One made to grab Priad, but he wheeled and smacked the man backwards with the flat of his practice lance. Two more moved in, but suddenly the rest of Damocles were there, striking out, grappling, covering their leader's back.
Damocles were all dressed for cnokoi drill in grey bodygloves, carrying the metal poles. Phocis were all in half-armour, exercising with small oukae batons and small bucklers. Priad's men had the advantage of reach and hitting power, but Phocis were much better protected.