Numeon exchanged a glance with the others.

‘What kind of artefact?’

‘A weapon. Like a spear.’

‘ Likea spear?’

‘To call it thusly would be overly prosaic, but it’s the closest word I can think of that still accurately describes it. It’s smaller, more like a spearhead with a short shaft.’ Sebaton indicated the approximate size with his hands.

‘Why were you looking for it? What is so important about this spear that the Word Bearers sent hunters after you to get it?’

Sebaton sighed. ‘May I at least sit down?’

Numeon backed off and nodded to the chair.

‘Before I tell you,’ said Sebaton, once he was seated, ‘there is something else you should know first. My name isn’t Caeren Sebaton. It’s John Grammaticus.’

CHAPTER EIGHT

Shattered

‘When brother fights brother, it is called rivalry. When brother kills brother, it is called succession.’

– Valdrekk Elias

Eighteen dead bodies cluttered the street below.

Fifteen of those bodies were Traoran, and were wearing black and red robes over their urban attire. Narek barely noticed them, but the three warriors clad in power armour that joined the cultists in death sent a tremor of consternation across his jawline.

The quiet hunt was over. Despite Narek’s misgivings, Elias had gathered his dogs from sects around the city and unleashed them without thought or knowledge of what fate he had consigned them to. Cultists were everywhere within Ranos. They had paved the way for the Legion’s arrival, softened the prey before the kill. It was a task well suited to their limited talents.

Against legionaries, however, they had come up drastically short.

One of the humans had tripped a hidden wire alarm, unleashing a chain of explosives embedded in the road. Flash bangs went off simultaneously, filling the narrow street that was crowded by buildings either side with light and smoke. A secondary group of incendiaries went live three seconds later, front and back of the patrol, effectively bracketing them into a kill box. In the last short minute that remained of their lives, the cultists panicked and the legionaries fell back on training, forming a defensive perimeter in the middle of the street. The saboteurs had factored this reaction into their trap as a pair of auto-slaved sentries cycled up.

Muzzle flash had cut into the smoke as heavy fire chugged relentlessly from the pair of Tarantula mounts secreted at either end of the street. The concealment of the guns was effective, as was the entire trap. Even Narek hadn’t seen the wire or the sentries and wondered privately if he was actually losing his edge.

Disorientated, some of their dead already lying broken before them, the cultists were ripped apart in seconds. Narek’s brothers didn’t last much longer. Power armour was staunch protection but even it couldn’t hold up against enfilading fire at close range from a pair of autocannons.

The end result was bloody and quick.

Narek and Dagon survived by virtue of the fact that they were above the metal storm, maintaining overwatch from a rooftop. Narek had been about to make contact with his brothers when the trap was sprung and death was unleashed.

As he looked down on the carnage, Narek scowled.

‘Beliah, Zephial, Namaah, all dead. Haruk also. Tell me, brother,’ he said, turning to Dagon, who had just returned from street level, ‘who must I kill to avenge them?’

‘The trap was good,’ Dagon replied. ‘Very good. Even on the ground, I would have had difficulty seeing the wire.’

‘Frag-belt?’ asked Narek.

Dagon nodded. ‘And some heavier explosives too. Armour-breaking.’

That would be the secondary burst they had seen and felt from the rooftop.

‘Naturally. And the sentry guns?’

The two tripod-mounted Tarantulas were spewing smoke. Tiny sparks erupted sporadically around the gimbal joint that linked the tripod mount to the gun stock. Narek had disabled them, but not before they had shredded Beliah, Zephial and Namaah.

‘Slaved to an automatic firing routine, based on motion detection,’ said Dagon.

‘So they had no intention of staying to watch the bloodshed.’

‘No, but I found this.’

In Dagon’s open palm was a small metallic device. It was disc-shaped and a red light in its centre winked rapidly.

A sensor.

Narek took it, examining the device in his hand.

‘They might be few but they are certainly well equipped.’ He glanced back down at the street. ‘And have a talent for disruption.’

‘Saboteurs?’ Dagon asked.

‘Definitely. The broken Legions have turned to guerrilla tactics to prosecute their war.’

‘They might just be a vanguard. How can you be certain?’

Narek’s eyes returned to regard the sensor.

‘Because it’s what I’d do.’ He paused, turning the sensor disc over in his hand as if scrutinising it would reveal his enemy’s secrets. Narek surveyed the urban skyline, paying close attention to the nearest buildings.

‘What is it?’ asked Dagon.

Narek’s gaze lingered on the shadow of a cooling tower in the distance.

‘Nothing,’ he said. ‘Watch the street, I have to tell Elias what we’ve found.’

Dagon nodded and headed back down.

When he was alone again, Narek activated the warp-flask. After a few seconds, Elias’s warp-form materialised. He was cleansing his ritual knife, preparing it for the next kill.

‘ You interrupt me with good news, I hope. Sacrificing an entire city is painstaking and I have a lot of work to do yet before we’re done.’

‘Your reinforcements are all dead.’

‘ A little profligate, don’t you think? Those were the only warriors close to your location.’

‘It wasn’t my decision to send them.’

Elias’s tone grew suddenly barbed. ‘Remember who you’re talking to, Narek.’

A vein in the hunter’s neck throbbed but he held back his anger.

‘You are my master, Dark Apostle.’

‘ I gave you purpose, huntsman. Don’t forget that.’

‘It is a worthy one. I will not.’

‘ What of the cults? They should have risen up by now. Use them. The city is in my thrall.’

‘The mortals are dead too.’

Elias looked displeased, but kept his agitation checked.

‘ What happened? I thought you were just tracking the human.’

‘We were. But that “someone else” I mentioned decided to get in our way.’ His gaze went back to the cooling tower. ‘One of your worshippers sprung a trap our enemy had laid for us. They’re of the Legions.’

‘ You’re certain of it?’

‘Yes.’

‘ You’ve seen them?’

‘No, but every sign points to our former cousins. No human kills Beliah, Zephial and Namaah like that. It just doesn’t happen. Not to them. Even I didn’t see the tripwire.’

Elias sneered. ‘ You’re losing your edge.’

‘That is possible, I suppose.’

‘ There are no Legion forces concentrated in this region of space. It’s precisely why Lord Erebus sent us here. We were supposed to be undisturbed. Who are they?’

‘Remnants, I think. Survivors banded together and performing their own operations.’

‘ Dregs from Isstvan?’ Elias sounded nonplussed.

‘I believe so, yes. I want to take a closer look to be sure.’

Elias paused, as if weighing up the import of that.

‘Nothing can prevent what we’re doing here, Narek. The outcome of the war could hinge on the cosmological shift we effect here.’

‘It’s fortunate that I am not empty-handed, then.’

‘ You have what they took from the catacombs?’

Narek held it up in his other hand.

‘It’s a spear. At least the tip of one.’

Elias’s eyes seemed to brighten. ‘ Sharpen ours, blunt theirs…’

Narek frowned, confused.

‘ Bring it to me at the ritual site,’ said Elias. ‘ The rest of our brethren are returning with fresh mortals to blood, and I would examine it before they arrive.’