Purity is a Lie Read online

  Contents

  Cover

  Purity is a Lie – Gav Thorpe

  About the Author

  An Extract from ‘Blackstone Fortress’

  A Black Library Publication

  eBook license

  Purity is a Lie

  By Gav Thorpe

  The air inside the drinking hole was thick with lho smoke, sweat and alcohol fumes. More than that, it was thick with the stench of heresy. Wherever Taddeus looked he saw miscreants, xenos scum and blasphemers against the God-Emperor. Revelry not in celebration of the God-Emperor’s victories was an affront to the sacrifices of the Thronelord and there was much revelry amid the stink of ‘Looter’s Den’.

  His arrival did not go unmarked. Chairs scraped across the bare boards of the floor and conversations faltered into silence. From behind a bar of stacked ammunition crates, the vendor scowled. The skinny, scar-faced man reached behind the improvised counter, no doubt for a weapon. Elsewhere blades slid from sheaths, powercells whined on activation and several autoweapons clicked and crunched as hammers were drawn back and safeties released.

  The reassuring buzz of Taddeus’ servo-stubber sounded close to his right ear as the self-determining anti-grav skull ascended into view. As it steadily panned back and forth the barrel of its gun tracked slowly across the denizens of the establishment, red targeting beams pulsing from its eye sockets.

  ‘This ain’t your pulpit, Ecclesiarchy man,’ growled a treasure hunter leaning on the bar, her face half-hidden beneath the broad brim of her hat. One hand held a small glass of yellow liquid; the other was hooked into her belt close to a holstered laspistol.

  Hostile eyes regarded the preacher from all directions: many human, some insectoid, one pair just points of ochre light.

  ‘And I’m not here to preach,’ Taddeus replied, his gaze scanning the room. He smoothed his hands down the front of his vestments, wiping away the settling dust and ash of the drinking hole.

  ‘Everyone can relax,’ said a rakish man from the far corner, his chair leaning back against the wall, booted feet on the tabletop before him. His garb was of an Imperial noble, frock coat and mock-military stylings. The hide of a xenos beast trailed across his shoulders. A neatly trimmed moustache and oiled hair completed an image of privilege at odds with the unwashed and unkempt denizens that made up the remaining patrons. Almost unseen, he held a long-barrelled duelling pistol in his lap, its muzzle pointing towards the barman.

  ‘No trouble, not in my cantina,’ the man said, placing both his hands back on the counter, empty.

  The servo-stubber lowered, its eyes returning to their dark green dormant state. A few patrons remained with weapons directed at the newcomer.

  ‘And a round of drinks on my tab!’ Draik declared.

  Eyes followed Taddeus as he weaved through the close tables, but the low conversations, glug of drinks poured and clink of glasses slowly resumed as he reached the chair opposite Janus Draik, the rogue trader he had come to meet.

  Draik dragged his feet from the table and invited Taddeus to sit with a glance. The rogue trader pushed a glass towards the priest and lifted a clay jug in offer. Taddeus’ lip curled in reply.

  ‘It’s water,’ said Draik, topping up his own glass. ‘Fresh, not filtered. A shipment arrived this morning, nearly two thousand pints.’

  ‘It is still a luxury, a weakness,’ said Taddeus, though his tongue could almost taste the untainted liquid, free from the acrid hint of recycling that marred all the water piped through the chambers of Precipice.

  ‘Perhaps you could bless some of the filtered water, make it taste good,’ said Draik with a half-smile. ‘You call yourself the Purifier, yes?’

  Taddeus sat down and did not dignify the poor joke with a reply.

  ‘Not the talkative type, I see,’ the rogue trader continued, assuming a more businesslike air. ‘Fair enough, I can appreciate that.’

  ‘Your missive said that you needed my assistance.’

  ‘It did, and I do.’ Draik leaned closer, voice dropping to a conspiratorial level, his eyes darting to the left and right before he continued. ‘I have pieced together one of the routes to the hidden vault we are all seeking.’

  ‘Speak for yourself. I seek the Emperor’s Truth.’

  ‘Then why are you on Precipice, hanging around as welcome as ogryn flatulence? I have watched you trying to get to the Blackstone Fortress. And failing. Now is your chance, with me.’

  ‘Let’s assume I’ll indulge you, Draik. What are you suggesting?’

  ‘I have coordinates and guidance logs for the mag-lev transporters that will take us to somewhere called… Well, it is called the deathmaze. Not inviting, I know. Some have reached it before in their attempts to find a way through to the next ring of vault defences.’

  ‘They failed?’

  ‘None have returned, so I would wager they died.’ Draik fixed his eyes on Taddeus, radiating sincerity. ‘I need an extra pair of eyes and hands on this venture.’

  ‘You have been here longer than many others and must’ve made all kinds of acquaintances. Why do you need me for this particular expedition?’

  ‘I trust you, Taddeus. There’s only a handful of others I trust, and one of them was injured as we acquired this new data, but I cannot wait for them to recuperate in case there is some change in the Blackstone Fortress’ layout. The mag-lev system can handle four people at most, so I find myself with an opening, and you have an opportunity. Precipice is full of vagabonds and scum, and you might name me amongst them, but you are different, I think. Courageous and determined. Not the sort to be dissuaded by a dangerous foe. A man of the Emperor, guided by His divine light. You think I have wandered from the righteous path, but I assure you that I have always kept it in sight even as I have meandered a little from its straight course. I want to help you do the Emperor’s work, while you help me solve the riddles of this terrible but intriguing place.’

  The rogue trader’s words were as worthless as anyone else’s, but there was a singular fact that could not be ignored: no others had yet been willing to accompany Taddeus into the depths of the Blackstone Fortress. It was too daunting a task for just the Purifier and his aide, Vorne. Suicide, in fact, to progress any degree into the mysteries of the alien station without more companions.

  He had to believe the God-Emperor had led him to this corruption for a reason, and not simply to cleanse it. He saw again the truth in the flames, the images that the God-Emperor had sent to him in the dance of the holy fires. He had heard of the alien station from the gossiping lips of a Naval rating, but it was in the flames that had purified the impenitent man shortly after that he had truly seen the will of the God-Emperor.

  A galaxy aflame with the righteous fires, with Taddeus as the spark that would light that pyre across the stars. The Blackstone Fortress was a gift; its secrets could not fall into the hands of aliens and heretics before the faithful had uncovered them.

  ‘These others that you trust.’ The priest looked around the drinking hole. ‘Who will also be going with us?’

  ‘Does it matter?’ Draik asked sharply. ‘If you have been given sight of your prize, would you turn away from it if the surrounding view was not to your liking? Or would you grasp it with both hands?’

  The rogue trader was dissembling, but his point was valid. The unavoidable need for allies left Taddeus with few options.

  None, in fact.

  ‘We have concord,’ said Taddeus. ‘I will bring the Clarion to the Stygian Aperture and rendezvous with you.’

  Draik’s hand slid across the table and left a small crystal in front of the priest.

 
‘We cannot enter by the Stygian Aperture, not this time. My last expedition uncovered a smaller entry point, hidden in the scan-shadow of the furthest arm of the Blackstone Fortress. I have calculated a flight path that will get you there undetected by those who would steal our claim. The details are embedded in this crystal.’

  Taddeus took up the crystal and stood. Draik did likewise and extended a hand to seal the pact between them. The Purifier took it in his strong grip and did not let go when the rogue trader tried to pull his hand back.

  ‘We are allies, not friends,’ Taddeus told the rogue trader, dragging him a little closer, his gaze burning into the other man’s eyes. ‘But it is not my judgement that should concern you, for when you perish you must answer to the God-Emperor for your deeds and misdeeds.’

  Draik tore his hand away with a sour look. Taddeus thrust the data-crystal into a hidden pocket within his cassock and stalked away.

  The joyful chorus of the Clarion’s navigational system rose to a crescendo as the missionary vessel slipped between two dark pillars that jutted from an outcrop of the Blackstone Fortress.

  The rising harmony was in direct contrast to the feelings of Taddeus the Purifier, who was usually roused by the triumphant tone of his vessel’s autohymnals.

  ‘Master, look.’ Pious Vorne pointed over his shoulder towards a darker recess ahead, her other hand laid upon the back of the priest’s command throne. Her voice was hushed with reverence, distorted by the black breather that covered nose and mouth.

  There was a white glow within the artificial cavern, but the gleam soon betrayed its mundane origins as the beams of another spacecraft nestled on the flat ground within. An ident-code pinged across the display, confirming that it was the Vanguard, starship of Janus Draik. The Clarion responded in kind without prompt and settled itself next to the rogue trader’s craft.

  As hydraulics settled beneath the weight of the ship in the artificial gravity of the Blackstone Fortress – a gravity whose source nobody knew – Taddeus felt a shimmer of excitement.

  ‘We’re finally here, Vorne,’ he told his companion.

  ‘The fortress of the abyss, lair of unbelievers and mutant filth,’ she replied, gushing at the prospect. Above the mask her eyes were bright and wide. ‘The cleansing will begin.’

  ‘Not yet, pious child,’ Taddeus reminded her. ‘You must remain here for the time being. The deal with Draik is only for me.’

  Sadness entered her gaze but she knew better than to raise argument against the preacher.

  Taddeus rose from the seat and placed a hand on her shoulder, squeezing encouragement through the thick fabric of his zealot’s robe.

  ‘Soon we’ll delve into this pit of darkness together. When the Emperor has guided me safely through the deathmaze and I return with greater knowledge, I’ll lead expeditions of my own into the bowels of the hell-base.’

  ‘I shall monitor what I can from here, favoured of the God-Emperor,’ she told him, before slipping past into the control seat. She activated a few runes and the main display lit up with various digital gauges, each hovering between green and orange. ‘There’s a captive atmosphere. Breathable, but not by much of a margin.’

  Taddeus readied himself, taking his pocket copy of the Imperial Creed, his laspistol and power maul at his belt. He stepped into the lock chamber that led to the boarding steps, servo-stubber following him in guard mode.

  ‘Grant me the strength to labour for your glory, God-Emperor,’ he said to himself, hand hovering over the door release button. ‘Protect your humble servant if you see my course as righteous, and deliver me into thy sight so that I may know thy will anew.’

  He pushed the activator. Sirens blared briefly as the lock chamber equalised pressures. Taddeus felt light-headed for a moment and the outer door opened, revealing the dark interior of the Blackstone Fortress.

  He strode down the steps with purpose, eyes adjusting to the gloom to pick out Janus Draik standing close to the alighting ramp of the Vanguard.

  ‘Welcome to the adventure,’ said the rogue trader. ‘Glad you could make it.’

  ‘I don’t do pleasantries, Draik,’ Taddeus replied. ‘Let’s get started.’

  ‘There are two more to come.’

  ‘Your companions aren’t on your ship?’

  ‘They have their own spacecraft. It is better that way – each vessel can support us if need be. Believe me, preacher, we shall need all the assistance we can muster.’

  They waited in silence until a few minutes later a slender vessel silently slipped into the lighted docking bay. Its surface seemed to ripple like oil on water, changing colour until it almost disappeared from view.

  ‘Xenos…’ hissed Taddeus. ‘You would bring inhuman beasts on this expedition?’

  ‘I bring who I choose,’ replied Draik. ‘And Amallyn Shadowguide is the keenest shot on all of Precipice.’

  ‘I will not share air with enemies of the Emperor,’ snarled Taddeus, taking a step back.

  ‘We have a pact, priest,’ growled Draik, hand moving to his holstered pistol. ‘I thought your word would be worth something.’

  Taddeus held his tongue as an aperture whispered open in the side of the newly arrived starship, a tongue-like ramp extruding down to the surface of the Blackstone Fortress.

  The being that stepped into the light was hard to see, a shimmering hint of a figure as indistinct as the hull of the vessel from which it stepped.

  The disturbance in the air settled a few paces away and resolved itself into a tall, slender humanoid, a cloak of shifting chromatic effects slung over one shoulder, longrifle in hand.

  ‘Pernicious eldar!’ said Taddeus, almost spitting the words. His servo-stubber responded to his mood, rising up quickly from behind him, ruddy eye beams fixing on the alien’s chest.

  The eldar’s lips moved and a split second later a melodious voice issued from a small badge upon her collar shaped like a face.

  ‘False prophet of the Emperor’s misguided church.’

  ‘I shall not take a step further in the company of this inhuman abomination,’ spat Taddeus.

  ‘Enough!’ Draik stepped between them, hands raised to ward them back. ‘I am leader of this expedition. We will have enemies enough without being at each other’s throats. You either follow me, or you can return to Precipice now.’

  The eldar inclined its head towards the rogue trader, apparently a gesture of acquiescence.

  ‘You possess the guidance codes, therefore it is you that acts as the steering hand,’ said Amallyn.

  Taddeus clenched his teeth, biting back further insults. It did him no good to turn around and return to Precipice before they had begun their expedition. This might be his only chance to get a glimpse into the secrets of the Blackstone Fortress and to gain some leverage over the denizens of Precipice.

  He relented and retreated a step, making the sign of the aquila with his hands to his chest as he did so. Beneath its hood, the eldar smiled thinly, eyes watching the priest closely.

  They all turned as a whine of plasma engines carried across the trapped atmosphere of the bay. Beyond the Clarion another Imperial vessel touched down, flanks glinting with gold.

  Taddeus was heartened to see another ship of the God-Emperor, but his spirits soured as the occupant descended to meet them. He was dressed in a bizarre helm, his coat decorated with the symbols of a Navigator house.

  ‘A psyker mutant!’ Taddeus rounded on Draik, fists balled at his side. ‘You insult my faith further!’

  ‘Not all things that dwell within the Blackstone Fortress are mortal in nature,’ Draik said patiently, meeting Taddeus’ gaze with his own steady stare. ‘This is Espern of House Locarno, an experienced Navigator who has travelled with me into the depths before.’

  ‘He is warp-touched and cannot be trusted.’

  ‘Trust is not the currency we ex
change,’ said the lilting voice of Amallyn behind them. Taddeus turned, holding back further curses.

  ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘It is need that binds out fates to a single path,’ the eldar continued. ‘Each of us will journey alone to our destiny, but if we are to reach our separate destinations we must at times share company with others. This station holds secrets as ancient as my people and it is not for a single spirit to uncover them alone.’

  Draik looked at Taddeus and then back to the Clarion, his meaning clear. The priest considered his options. He could head back to Precipice and pray for another chance to make common goal with enough companions to dare a venture into the Blackstone Fortress, or he could continue with the opportunity the God-Emperor had already laid before him.

  It was a test, he realised. His faith was strong enough to resist the corruption around him, and that was why he had been delivered to this place. Xenos, heretics and mutants would not sway him from his path, any more than the inhabitants of the ancient space citadel.

  He swallowed back his disgust, realising that it was wounded pride as much as any true anger.

  ‘Lead on,’ he said to Draik.

  The rogue trader ushered them across the landing bay towards a gleaming alcove in the wall. Within was a circular platform just about large enough for the four of them, alien runes inscribed into the walls around it. One of the infamous mag-lev transporters that allowed them to traverse the labyrinthine depths of the Blackstone Fortress.

  ‘You are sure your guidance coordinates are accurate?’ asked Espern Locarno, his voice softly projected by his elaborate helm.

  ‘We are about to find out…’ said Draik, his hands dancing across the controls.

  The platform hummed into life and Taddeus had one last glimpse of the Clarion before it seemed to flash upwards, though in truth it was their descent that had taken it from view. With an eldar behind him and psyker to his right, it felt as though he were plunging into the bowels of the Unholy Abyss itself.

  Taddeus was surprised how quickly he lost sense of time and direction. The inertia-suppressed motion of the mag-lev left him with no idea how far they had descended or traversed the Blackstone Fortress, only a blur of changing colours to indicate where they raced past a bewildering myriad of levels and chambers. The air had grown heavier with humidity as they slowed to a halt, and the mag-lev deposited them on a concourse of dark blue crystalline material, the branch of paths ahead walled by high arcs of more glasslike azure.