“Something troubles you, my friend. What is it?”

“The story of the men in the cave,” said Ahriman. “The one you told me when I was your Neophyte.”

“I know the one,” said Magnus. “What of it?”

“If I remember correctly, that story shows that it is futile to share the truth of what we know with those who have too narrow a view of the horizon. How are we to illuminate our fellows when their vision is so limited?”

“We do not,” said Magnus, turning Ahriman and walking him across the spiral towards the pyramid’s open doors. “At least not at first.”

“I do not understand.”

“We do not bring the light to humanity; we bring themto the light,” said Magnus. “We learn how to lift mankind’s consciousness to a higher state of being so that he can recognise the light for himself.”

Ahriman felt the force of the primarch’s passion, and wished he felt it too. “Trying to explain the truth of the aether to mortals is like trying to describe the meaning of the colour yellow to a blind man. They do not wantto see it. They fear it.”

“Small steps, Ahzek, small steps,” said Magnus patiently. “Mankind is already crawling towards psychic awareness, but he must walk before he can run. We will help him.”

“You have great faith in humanity,” said Ahriman as they reached the doors. “They wanted to destroy us once. They may again.”

Magnus shook his head. “Trust them a little more, my son. Trust me.”

“I trust you, my lord,” promised Ahriman. “My life is yours.”

“And I value that, my son, believe me,” said Magnus, “but I am set on this course, and I need you with me, Ahzek. The others look up to you, and where you lead, others will follow.”

“As you wish, my lord,” said Ahriman with a respectful bow.

“Now, as far as studying the remembrancers goes, I want you to pay close attention to Lemuel Gaumon, he interests me.”

“Gaumon? The aetheric reader?”

“Yes, that’s the one. He has some power, learned from the writings of the Nordafrik Sangoma by the feel of it,” said Magnus. “He believes he hides this power from us, and has taken his first, faltering steps towards its proper use. I wish you to mentor him. Draw out his abilities and determine how best he may use them without danger to himself or others. If we can do it for him, we can do it for others.”

“That will not be easy; he does not have the mastery of the Enumerations.”

“That is why you must teach him,” said Magnus.

CHAPTER FOUR

The Sound of Judgement/Shadow Dancers/Summoned

F IRES SEARED THEhorizon as the planet burned. The skies bucked and heaved with pressure, kaleidoscopic lighting blazing across the heavens with unnatural fire. Screaming shards of glass fell in glittering torrents, the streets ran with molten gold, and once proud avenues of glorious statuary were brought to ruin by the thunder of explosions and the howls of killers.

Predators stalked the ruins of the beautiful city, a glorious representation of paradise rendered on earthly soil. Towering wonders of glass and silver and gold burned around her, the air filled with a billion fluttering scraps of scorched papers like grotesque confetti. The taste of blood filled her senses, and though she had never seen this place before she mourned its destruction.

Such perfect geometry, such pleasing aesthetics… who could ever wish harm to so perfect a refuge? Soaring silver towers sagged in the heat of the fires, broken glass falling from their high windows and pyramidion-capped summits like shimmering tears. Firelight danced in the glass, each reflecting a great, golden eye that wept tears of red.

She wanted to stop the madness, to halt the bloodletting before it was too late to save the city from complete destruction. It was already too late. Its fate had been sealed long before the first bomb had landed or the first invader set foot within its gilded palaces, marble-flagged processionals or glorious parks.

The city was doomed, and nothing could change its fate. Yet even as the thought formed, she knew that wasn’t true. The citycould be saved.

With that thought, the clouds dispersed and the wondrous blue of the sky was revealed. Glorious sunbeams painted the mountains in gold, and the scent of wildflowers replaced the stink of ash and scorched meat and metal. Once again, the silver towers reached up to the heavens, and shimmering, monumental pyramids of glass loomed over her, glittering with the promise of a bright and incredible future.

She walked the streets of the city, alone and without form, relishing the chance to savour its beauty without interruption. Hot spices, rich fragrances and exotic scents were carried on a soft breeze, suggestive of human life, but no matter how hard she looked, there was no sign of the city’s inhabitants.

Undaunted, she continued her exploration, finding new wonders and raptures at every turn. Golden statues of hawk-headed figures lined one boulevard of marble libraries and museums, a thousand scented date palms another. Silver lions, hundreds of metres tall, reared at the entrance to a pyramid so huge it was more mountain than architecture.

Mighty carved columns topped with capitals shaped like curling scrolls formed enormous processional avenues down which entire armies could walk abreast. She wandered parks of incredible beauty nestled alongside the artifice of human hands, the two blending so seamlessly that it was impossible to discern where one began and the other ended.

Everywhere she looked, she saw perfection of line and shape, a harmony that could only have come about by the seamless fusion of knowledge and talent. This was perfection; this was everything humanity aspired to achieve.

This was bliss, though she knew it was not real, for nothing created by Man was perfect. Everything had a flaw, no matter how small. As with any paradise, this could not last. She heard a mournful cry in the far distance, a sound so faint as to be almost inaudible.

Carried from the frozen bleakness of an ice-locked future, the cry was joined by another, the sounds echoing from the sides of the pyramids and lingering like a curse in the deserted streets. It resonated within a withered, atrophied part of her mind – a forgotten, primal remnant from a time when man was prey, simply an upstart hominid with ambitions beyond those of other mammals.

It was the sound of fangs like swords, claws and hunters older than Man. It was the sound of judgement.

HER HEART THUDDING in her chest, Kallista Eris jack-knifed upright in her cot bed, drenched in sweat, the haunting cries fading from her mind. The dream of the unknown city faded like mist from her thoughts, fleeting glimpses of shimmering towers, silver-skinned pyramids and majestic parklands all that remained of her magnificent vision.

She groaned and lifted a hand to her head, a pounding headache pressing against the inner surfaces of her skull. She swung her legs from the bed, pressing a palm to her temple as she felt its intensity grow.

“No,” she moaned. “Not again. Not now.”

She rose from the bed, moving to the footlocker at its base on unsteady legs. If she could reach the bottle of sakau before the fire in her brain erupted, she could spare herself a night of pain and horror.

A sharp spike of agony lanced into her brain, and she dropped to her knees, falling against the bed with a muted cry. Kallista screwed her eyes shut against the pain, white lights bursting like explosions behind her lids. Her stomach lurched and she fought to hold onto its contents as the interior of her tent spun around her. She felt the fire pouring into her, a tide of burning nightmares and blood.

The breath heaved in her lungs as she fought against this latest attack, and her hands clawed knots in her thin sheet. She clenched her teeth, hauling herself along the bed towards the footlocker. The pain felt like a bomb had detonated within her brain, a blooming fire that raced out along her dendrites and synapses to sear through the bone of her skull.