Ciaphas Cain: Choose Your Enemies

‘There are three,’ said Covenant. ‘A triumvirate within our ranks. They wear the faces of friends, but they have been following their path for a long time.’

‘You have proof?’ asked Hesh.

‘You do not need proof,’ said Covenant. ‘You have my word.’

‘Who are these three?’

‘I do not know,’ said Covenant.

Hesh laughed. The cold sound was so sudden and unexpected that Viola flinched.

‘Corpses and phantoms, lord… If you hoped that I could help you chase ghosts then you will find my service a poor thing.’

‘I do not want your help to hunt them,’ said Covenant, his voice steady. ‘I want your help to discover what they are trying to do.’

The man was dying when they reached his side. Ninkurra’s shot had ripped a scoop from the right-hand side of his neck and shoulder. Somehow he was still alive. Blood was pumping from him in time with his gasps. His eyes were open. They were blue, she noticed. He had a beard, black-streaked iron on a square jaw. He looked tough and strong, in the way that the land and open air, and worry of next season’s crop, breeds strength. He did not look like a saint, or a witch, but none of them ever did. The frost was still threading through his pooling blood. He opened his mouth and blood poured over his lower lip, bright red, crusting with ice as it fell. How he was still alive was a miracle, or the end of one at least.

‘Hush,’ said Memnon. He bent down beside the dying man, who extended a wet, red hand. Ninkurra flinched forwards, but Memnon raised a hand without looking up, and she froze. ‘This is peace. Whatever has befallen you before, whatever fears have grown inside you, they are gone now.’ Memnon put three fingers to his own forehead and then pressed them to the man’s forehead gently. The man stilled. ‘This was not your time, but know that this needed to happen. There is a purpose to everything, and you have served yours. Know that and know peace.’

The man’s eyes fluttered. His mouth moved once more, forming words that would never be heard.

Memnon stood, still looking down at the corpse. He pressed his hands to his eyelids and cheeks. Ninkurra heard the whisper of a prayer. His hands left bloody smears on his face when he lowered them.

Around them, smoke was rising from burning stubble. Flames licked soot over the shattered tabernacle. A burst of rotor-cannon fire blasted down from one of the circling gunships.

‘Make sure it’s complete,’ said Memnon, watching as distant figures in blue fell. The troopers were moving inwards from their drop positions. Ninkurra could hear the crack and fizz of lasguns. ‘No survivors.’

‘Yes, my lord,’ she said.

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For Judith, for remaining married to a writer

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A Black Library Publication

First published in Great Britain in 2018.

This eBook edition published in 2018 by Black Library, Games Workshop Ltd, Willow Road, Nottingham, NG7 2WS, UK.

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Cover illustration by Vladimir Krisetskiy.

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