The Emperor's Legion (Watchers of the Throne #1) - Chris Wraight Page 0,98

to feel my body pushed to its limits. I felt a strange sense of release, as if long-invisible ­fetters had been lifted from my arms, letting them move with greater purpose and vindication.

By the time the sun was high in the sky, we knew the fighting would soon be over. The daemons were fleeing, flickering back into their own realm even before our spears could plunge into their translucent bodies.

To my surprise, I found that I almost regretted the cessation of violence. By the time I sent Gnosis hurtling into the last neck of the last kill, I felt no elation of any sort. All I felt was a curious ache of withdrawal, of something being snatched from me before I could fully understand it.

This was the disturbing factor. I wanted more.

Tieron

Even then, there was no rest. In the hours that followed the battle for the Lion’s Gate, the prudence of the Arx Doctrine became fully apparent, as our preparations meant we could readily ferry thousands of battle-hardened troops to staunch the gaps left by the Custodians’ sortie. We could mobilise our Titans to hold sentinel within the Inner Palace, and airlift even greater numbers to hold the line inside the gate’s remains.

It became clear we would endure. The greater daemons were destroyed, the lesser still hunted down. We had taken fearful losses – we would be assessing the damage for weeks afterwards – but the unthinkable had been averted by the narrowest of margins. Soon activity within the Palace shifted, and there were suddenly inquisitors everywhere. I saw vulture-like ships hovering over the fields of slaughter, and strange figures wearing uniforms even I didn’t recognise stalking through the drifting smoke. We were doing what we always did after such events – trying to smother them, to erase them, to push them out of our minds.

That exercise was more futile then than it had ever been, and so there was an even greater unreality to the days that followed. Our labours remained intense, but the focus shifted. We rebuilt as best we could. Huge teams of reclamators and enginseers were sent to the defence lines, only to be held back from the worst of the combat sites by Inquisitorial agents, and fresh fighting broke out between rival hoarders of secrets.

There was a mood in the Palace that we had fallen as far as it was possible to go. The Astronomican remained dormant, limiting our communication with the wider Imperium. Our planetary defences, so painstakingly constructed over so many centuries, had shown they could be bypassed with trivial ease, and so covetous eyes began to be cast over the millions of troops locked up in the ranks upon ranks of high-orbit defence stations. In the shock of the assault on the wall, very few remembered the plight of the immense world-city beyond, which remained restive, fearful and starving.

Even within the hallowed precincts, every face was grey and every back was hunched. I saw men and women who had once worn chains of pearls and cloaks of platinum-thread who now looked little better than over-dressed beggars, wandering through the empty halls as if they had forgotten their own names. The cavernous refectories were empty, the chapels echoing.

At the time of our worst crisis we had not needed to worry about the chain of command, since the Captain-General and Lord Guilliman had seized the initiative so forcefully. Now, though, those matters suddenly became pressing. The High Lords had failed in their most sacred duty of all – protecting the heart of power – and in centuries past that had always resulted in swift punishment and a change of personnel at the high table.

I avoided contact with my masters at that time, though, and immersed myself in doing what I could to help with the restoration of the Palace systems. I issued requisition commands and lent my services to those commanders still retaining regiments capable of deployment. I signed warrants for resupply and passed on execution mandates to the Arbites. I think, looking back, I was in some kind of shock. Jek said later that I was like an automaton, moving from one task to another and barely saying a word to her or anyone else. I lost weight, which in normal circumstances might have been welcome, but back then just made me look haggard.

My memories of that period are fuzzy, and I do not recall much of the detail. One episode stands out, though. Irthu Haemotalion had ever been a thorn in my