Part 12 (2/2)

Still, they burned just as well. A bow wave of civilians, new refugees made this day by the arrival of the Soror-itas, raced from their homes as the Immolators tore past them. Those that dared to stand in defi-ance to the Sisters of Battle were given the ritual censure of holy shot. Those that made proper obeisance were left by the roadside.

The Canoness rode tall atop her tank at the head of the castigation legion, the cloak of Saint Aspira billowing out behind her and snapping in the breeze. She coiled her book in one hand, directing the Dominions in the forward lines to places where errant cavalrymen challenged their proces-sion. Some of the baron's soldiers threw down their arms and prayed for mercy when they saw the Sororitas coming.

Men twice Miriya's age mewled like children as they met her gaze, finally understanding what crime they had committed. Some of them laid eyes on Galatea's cloak and knew it for what it was, a holy relic touched by the aura of their Eternal Lord. The Canoness was the Emperor's avatar, swift and terrible with her jus-tice.

Miriya could read the questions they asked of themselves in their faces - How could we ever have thought to defy the church? What will become of us? Will we be forgiven? The staccato cracks of bolt pistols answered for her. Those in Sherring's brocade and bra.s.s-b.u.t.ton finery were being culled for their disloyalty.

'From the lightning and the tempest, our Emperor, deliver us. Galatea quoted the verse from the battle prayer by rote. 'From plague, deceit, temptation and war, our Emperor, deliver us.'

Sister Miriya tasted cordite and burnt wood in the air and turned away to run her gaze over the Sororitas lines surrounding the slow-moving tank. On foot, Reiko caught her eye and gave her a grave nod. The veteran Superior walked with Isabel and Portia at her side and a wounded banner bearer behind. Among the red robes, Miriya realised that she saw no sign of the Hospitaller Verity, and on reflex she made the sign of the aquila. 'Terra pro-tects the faithful. she whispered, watching the newly dead roll by beneath the Immolator's treads.

Torris!' Ignis's strident voice carried along the marble corridors and stopped the psyker dead in his tracks. Vaun turned on his heel, clasping a pict-slate in his hand.

'Calm down, boy, you'll catch something alight. What's the panic?'

The ginger-haired youth gulped air. The baron is coming apart at the seams in there.' He jerked a thumb at the door to the chambers. 'He sent me to find you.'

Vaun tapped his lips with a forefinger. 'It's my esti-mation that our welcome is about to be worn out for good. It's time to take steps. He glanced around. There were no guards in earshot, as one of Sher-ring's first frantic orders had been to send all available men to fortify the mansion house gates. 'Where are those b.l.o.o.d.y nuns?'

West Gate's been breached, all vox traffic from that quarter is nothing but dead air or weeping. Fires are spreading, too.

This isn't a raid of punishment, then. the crimi-nal replied. 'The Sisterhood won't leave a stick unburnt here. Our dear pal Holt is going to be made an example of.

Ignis's fingers crawled over his s.h.i.+rt and plucked nervously at his collar. 'I don't want to be here when they arrive.

Vaun shrugged. Who does? Don't worry, we'll be long gone by then. In my capacity as the baron's ”special consultant” I'm going to have his racing 'nef fuelled and put on the roof pad. Once we see the tanks rolling up the mall we'll kite out of here and go for the keep.

The youth's eyes went wide with surprise. The keep? You found it?'

The psyker waved the pict-slate at him. 'Not me, boy. Sherring did. All part of the agreement I made with him. This is his price for my good company.'But how? That old b.a.s.t.a.r.d LaHayn kept it hid-'

'Doesn't matter how, Ig, just matters that we know where it is. The honourable lord deacon's dirty little secret is ours now, and it's ripe to be plundered. Sherring was busy while we were off planet - sure, he's an oily little tick, but he's connected on Neva. Must have cost him big to get this. He weighed the slate in his hand. It seemed such a small thing to be so important, and yet inside the primitive bio-cell memory of the device were strings of numbers that meant more to Torris Vaun than any other prize he had taken.

'Sherring won't just let us go. Ignis frowned. We're supposed to help him win this battle.

'Yes. How sad. Vaun pocketed the slate. That just shows how big a fool he really is. Beneath all the braggadocio, the airs and graces, Sherring doesn't see past the end of his own nose. So while his back is turned, while he's making enough noise to wake the dead, we take what we want from him and slip away real quiet, like.

A smirk flickered on Ignis's face. 'You set him and LaHayn at each other like dogs. All this kick-ing and screaming, Metis seceding and all, this is just your smokescreen!'

'You're learning, that's good. Best way to get men to work for you is to have them think the job is their idea. Vaun patted him on the shoulder. 'It's all about weakness. You find it in your mark, then you break them with it. The sound of distant sh.e.l.lfire reached them, rumbling through the walls and setting the molycrystal chandeliers above their heads twittering with vibration. 'This little bloodbath is going to cover our tracks nicely. By the time the confessors and the cardi-nals are through sifting the ashes of Metis, we'll be kings of the Null Keep and everything in it. And then... then, Ig, we'll cut our names into the galaxy.

'Do you think... Could we destroy a planet, maybe?'

The psyker smiled. 'You know, I've always won-dered how that would feel. It's going to be interesting to find out. Vaun gestured down the corridor. 'Go keep the baron busy. You'll know when it's time to go. He was two steps away when the younger man's question came after him.

'What about the others? They're still out there in the thick of it. Abb and Suki, I mean.

'I know who you mean. Vaun said, without turning around. 'There are always sacrifices to be made, Ignis.

You know that.

'But we lost Rink already. If there's just us two-'

There'll be plenty of new recruits in the keep. he snapped, 'more than enough. He threw a hard look over his shoulder. 'Do as I said. I can't afford to play favourites, not this late in the game.

Vaun stalked away, leaving Ignis rubbing gingerly at the scarring behind his ear, and remembering.

The central avenue from the breached gate guided the Sisterhood to Metis's grand plaza, within the confines of which stood the fenced grounds of the baron's stately mansion. The circular city was arranged like a wheel, with spokes radiating out from the centre and concentric rings of boulevards growing ever smaller as they contracted inwards. At some of the crossroads along the line of the advance, the armoured vehicles and the Battle Sis-ters met makes.h.i.+ft barricades that were stormed by concentrated attacks, or hastily emplaced Leman Russ tanks drawn from the token Imperial Guard garrison. The line soldiers who had agreed to stand against the Sisterhood were ritually burnt alive, denied even the mercy of a bolter sh.e.l.l.

They moved on, ever on, leaving the tanks afire or in fragments. From giant speaker horns hung from the city's boxy buildings, Baron Sherring's hysterical speeches played in loops, his words nearly shrieks. Galatea ordered each one of them destroyed with rocket or laser, and in turn made the loud hailers on the Sororitas vehicles broadcast songs of penitence and admonishment. Panic warred with the Battle Sisters for mastery of the streets as they moved ever closer to the core of Metis, like a slow arrow toward its heart. The edges of the caldera were enveloped in fire now, and to observers on s.h.i.+ps in orbit the plume of smoke appeared as if the dead volcano had returned to life.

Crossing into the outer gardens of the plaza, Miriya saw flashes of red in the near distance and caught the whirring of eviscerators. The Repentia had pressed on and taken the first kills of Sherring's personal guard, the golden sashes and ribbons the men wore soaking up their blood as the tireless blades took them. Galatea leapt down from the back of the Immolator, and Miriya dropped back through the turret hatch to follow her out into the battle. I've ridden long enough, she told herself, it is time to face the traitors close at hand.

Desultory laser fire and bolt shots hissed through the air around them, missing cleanly as the baron's men tried to beat the women back. Galatea was snapping out orders. 'Sister Reiko, take the Retribu-tors and a.s.sault the southern flank.

Sister Miriya, have your Celestians come together and follow in the path cut by our Repentia.'

'Aye. chorused Reiko and Miriya, saluting with a balled fist to the fleur-de-lys on their chest armour.

A jerk of motion from Portia caught Miriya's eye. The Battle Sister was looking skyward, and she pointed with her gun, her tawny face split in a gri-mace. 'Dominica's Eyes. What is thatV There was a shape coming towards them, swoop-ing low through the drifts of haze. It was a woman, arms open to them, buoyed up on thin sheets of orange fire. Portia did not wait for an answer to her question and fired at the apparition. The flying woman brought her hands close to her chest and forced a gaseous breath from her lungs. She spat choking flames down at the Sisters with a rattling crackle of noise.

Miriya reeled away, the stench of burning bile was.h.i.+ng over her. She felt acid mist p.r.i.c.kle her eyes and ground theheels of her hands into them, throwing herself as far as she could from the blast.

Portia and Reiko fired, lancing shots after the woman. ”Witch-kin,' spat the veteran Battle Sister. A psyker freak!'

Blinking the stinging miasma away, Miriya drew her plasma pistol and threaded hot flares of white light at the dragon-breath woman. The psy-witch described a lazy loop in the misty air and dropped to the ground in a crouch, rolling to avoid bolt fire. Miriya saw a second figure now, a portly little man, advancing with purposeful steps from the smoke. He raised stubby fingers in a claw-like gesture, hum-ming to himself. 'Careful, Reiko!'

Her warning had scarcely left her lips when the veteran superior turned her bolter on the fat man. The air about him wavered and the shots deflected away. It was the same trick that Vaun had used to protect himself during the attack on the Lunar Cathedral.

Around the man's feet, circles of coloured orna-mental gra.s.s and flowerbeds crisped and wilted. His face turned florid with hard effort and sweat beaded on his broad brow. All in the s.p.a.ce of moments, the psyker who called himself Abb used his preternat-ural talent to excite the molecules inside the sickle magazine of Sister Reiko's boltgun. In a throaty roar of detonation, every sh.e.l.l in Reiko's weapon exploded at once. The crash of flame took off her gun arm and ripped away most of her breastplate and the flesh beneath. The woman was punched back into Miriya and the Celestian was thrown against a stone plinth.

The aromas of ash and cooked flesh filled Miriya's senses. She pushed Reiko off her and the woman's head lolled to one side, a ruined face in mute shock. In that moment, as she clutched at her Sister, the light faded from Reiko's eyes and she went slack. Cursing, Miriya let the body slip away and stepped forward, leading with her plasma gun.

Abb saw her coming and marshalled his power again, drawing from the pool of inhuman energies at the heart of his psyche. For Miriya, it was as if she had suddenly stepped into an oven, the dreary, moist warmth of the day crushed under a punis.h.i.+ng heat. The Celestian had a moment of old sense-memory from a battle in the deserts of Ariyo, as if a pitiless sun had turned its full might upon her in that single instant.

The plasma pistol sang in her mailed grip, the bright blue-white emitter coils along the breech sparking wildly with eager power. Plasmatic energy weapons were infamous for inopportune failures and catastrophic overheats, but in all the years that Miriya had used this handgun, she had never once had cause to regret it. It was a daily ritual of hers to pray over the firearm and ask the Emperor's for-bearance in its use, so that she might employ it to exercise His displeasure.

'With this flame, I purify,' she murmured through dry lips.

Abb screamed as he forced the charge of burning energy from his mind, turning the power on the Bat-tle Sister. Miriya's finger twitched on the trigger plate and the plasma pistol obeyed her. Psy-force and superheated, sun-hot plasma crossed in the air and split the day with thunder. The Sororitas reeled back, burnt and snarling. Abb became a thing of smouldering black meat, dying as the energy shot enveloped him.

The stench of the psyker-woman's coa.r.s.e exhala-tions turned on the wind and Miriya followed her Sisters as they engaged Vaun's pyrokene killer in combat. Portia, Isabel and a dozen other line Soror-itas st.i.tched bolt sh.e.l.ls in the air as the witch threw herself here and there, bobbing and weaving on pinions of fire. A fresh gus.h.i.+ng spew of loathsome, steaming bile splattered among them. Miriya mar-velled that so dainty a frame could continue to emit tides of flaming vomit. The foetid dragon-breath claimed the life of another Sister as she watched, cutting off her screams as it melted away the meat of her throat.

'Converge,' cried Portia. All guns to bear on the psy-wh.o.r.e!'

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