Dan Abnett - Eisenhorn Omnibus

'The daemon-king/ he said, spreading out a large sheet of scribbled-on vellum across the litter on his desk, 'who is represented by this glyph here…' he pointed with a palsied finger,'.. .and by this triple formation of symbols here was called Y-Y-Y-'

'Aemos?'

'Yssarile!' He all but had to spit the word out of his mouth to make the sound. The gilded clock on the table beside his unmade bed chimed twice suddenly for no reason.

'It keeps doing that/ Aemos growled crossly. His finger stabbed another mark on the paper for me to look at and then traced down a curling line of script. His notes, I realised, had taken the form of the chart itself. 'Here, look. There was a war. The daemon-king Y-Y-'

'Just call him the daemon-king/

The daemon-king fought a war of staggering enmity with a rival. The rival's name is not given, but from the marking here, I would guess it was one of what we tentatively understand to be the four primary powers of Chaos, although it seems there were only three at that time. I wonder why?'

I couldn't answer that. I wondered if the farseer could.

The rival is described as a foul sorcerer/ Aemos continued. 'I don't pretend or want to know the hierarchies of the warp, but in simple terms, Y-Y-damnit! Yssarile! was a lieutenant, a warlord, a prince… whatever you want to call it, who tried to usurp the place of this primary power/

Aemos unrolled another crumpled sheet and wiped pencil shavings off it. 'The war lasted… a billion years. As we would understand it. The daemon-king was destroyed by his rival. Killed outright. His host fled in terror at this crashing defeat, and sought sanctuary in the material universe. Our universe. There they established a capital and six kindred colonies. The capital, Ghiil, was built upon the daemon-king's mausoleum, which was itself constructed around his barque/

'His barque?'

'I suppose they mean his ship. The word is closer to "chariot" or "galley" in literal terms. And I think this may be the key point. The barque was his war machine, the craft that he rode into battle. It is described – here, and also here – as being of such power and might that the warped ones who wrote this were themselves staggered by it/

He looked at me. 'The barque of the daemon-king. A weapon of inconceivable power that lies entombed in the mausoleum of Ghtil. That prize, so I am told, is what Glaw is after/

'Told?'

He started, shaking his head. 'I'm tired. I meant that's what I've learned. From this. My work/

You said "told"/

'I did not/

'Distinctly/

'Yes, well I did. Because I used the wrong word. Learned. That's what I have learned/

I put my hand on his shoulder, reassuringly, but he flinched. 'Aemos, you've done an extraordinary job with this. I've asked a lot of you/

'Yes, you have/

Too much/

'I serve you, sir. It is never too much/

'I'll have Maxilla prepare another room for you. You can't sleep in here/

'I'm used to the clutter/ he said.

'It's not the clutter I'm worried about/

He shuffled away, muttering.

'I need to take the book back now/1 said.

'It's here somewhere/ he said, off-hand. 'I'll bring it to you later/

'I'll take it now/

He glared at me.

'Now, please/ I repeated.

He pulled the Malus Codicium from under a pile of notes that fluttered onto the carpet, and held it out. I took hold, but he would not let go.

'Aemos…'

I managed to yank the book away. The clock mischimed again.

'I think you should consider your options, Gregor/ he said.

What do you mean?'

The powers we face are great. Too great, perhaps. We are woefully under-strength. I think we should be stronger/

'How do you propose we do that?'

'Summon the daemonhost/

What?'

He took off his heavy augmetic eyeglasses and polished the lenses with the corner of his robe.

His hands were shaking badly now.

1 didn't approve before, on Durer. But I think I grasp things a little better now. I understand the choices you've made. The rules you've bent. All for the good, and I apologise for ever doubting you. With the daemon-host, we might stand a chance. Summon it here.'

'How?'

He became agitated with me. 'Like you did on Miquol!'

That was sheer desperation,' I reproved.

'We're desperate now!'

'And we have no host to summon it into…'

'You didn't then!'

'And it nearly killed us with its raw power before I could trap it.'

Then use one of Maxilla's astropaths as a host!'

I stared at him level ly. 'I won't kill a man just to provide a host.'

'You did on Miquol,' he hissed softly.

What did you just say?'

'You did on Miquol. Verveuk wasn't dead. You sacrificed him for the good of us all. Why would you flinch from doing it again?'

'Why would I do again something I wish had never happened?'

'Are we not playing for the highest stakes? One life, sir. What is that compared to the millions that may die if Glaw succeeds? Summon the daemonhost. Summon Cherubael to help us.'

I walked slowly to the door. 'Get some rest/ I said with forced lightness. 'You'll feel better for it. You'll have changed your mind.'

'Whatever/ he said, turning away dismissively.

He was entirely unprepared for the will I unleashed at him.

'What did it say to you?' I commanded.

Aemos cried out and his legs gave way. He crashed to the deck and half overturned a table in his efforts to stay upright.

His papers avalanched onto the floor.

'It told you, didn't it? It told you! You damn fool, Uber, what did you do?'

'I couldn't crack the code!' he wailed. 'The language was beyond me! But there was so much more in that book! That beautiful book! I realised I could do more!'

'You spoke to the daemonhost/

'Nooo!'

Then how else would you know its name, because I sure as hell never told you!'

He shrieked out and staggered back to his feet, his face locked in a grimace of pain and shame and fear.

'It was there in the pages!' he cried. 'Close like a whisper in my ear! So soft! It said it could help! It said it would tell me everything I needed if I could only arrange its release!'

'Oh, God-Emperor! Everything you've told me today you learned from that bastard thing Cherubael!'

'It was true!' he screamed. True! Yssarile! Yssarrrrilllle!'

The clock began to chime furiously. A glass pitcher and three tumblers on the bureau shattered. One lens of Aemos's eyeglasses cracked clean across.

He collapsed onto the floor.

I summoned servitors and took him to the sickbay. For safety, we locked him in an isolation bay. His safety, and ours.

The damn clock was still chiming when I went back to his room to burn the papers.

EIGHTEEN!

Meeting at Jeganda.

Misplaced loyalties.

To the last, to die deadi.

Aemos. All that last week of travel, he was my primary concern. I kept a watch on him in the infirmary, but he was generally unresponsive. He woke a few hours after the confrontation, and then said nothing. He refused to eat at first, and remained awake, day and night, staring at the locked door of the isolation chamber.

I dearly wished I hadn't had to lock it.

After a day he took food and drink, but remained silent. We all attempted to get some reaction from him. Both Medea and Maxilla tried for hours at a time.

By the time we reached Jeganda, a day ahead of schedule, our mood was low.

I had never realised before then how central to our team spirit Aemos had been. We all missed him. We all hated what had happened.

I hated myself for allowing it.

Aemos had been careless where I should have been able to trust him, but even so… it was my doing. I hated myself.

And I hated Cherubael, whose baleful influence had been cursing my life for too long. I wondered if I would ever – could ever – be free of it.