‘Better?’ asked their bearded leader.
‘Corbec?’ Gaunt whispered.
‘Hello, ’bram,’ said Colm Corbec with a grin. ‘Been a while. Looks like you’ve been through the fething wars.’
‘Colm, it’s good to see you,’ said Gaunt, lowering his pistol. ‘I thought I was alone out here. What are our strengths? How many other Ghost platoons made it this far?’
Corbec smiled and shook his head. He glanced at his companions. ‘Just the five of us. We’ll have to make do, won’t we, lads?’
The other three nodded.
‘It’s good to see you,’ Gaunt repeated.
‘You’re not seeing us,’ said the owner of the monotone voice. ‘You’re not seeing anything. They took out your eyes.’
‘Hush your drone, Feygor,’ said Corbec. ‘He doesn’t understand.’
Feygor shrugged.
‘But it is good to see you again, sir,’ said the biggest of the four Ghosts with a chuckle. ‘Maybe we should toast to old times with a sip of sacra?’
‘We need clear heads just now, Bragg,’ said Corbec. ‘We’ve got to get to the bridge.’
‘Well, it was just a thought,’ said Try Again Bragg.
‘There’s no point us trying to get to the bridge,’ said Gaunt. ‘There are only five of us. What good would that do?’
‘It’s what matters,’ said the youngest Ghost. ‘It’s why we’re here.’
‘I don’t understand, Caff,’ said Gaunt.
‘Let’s just get over the bridge, sir,’ said Caffran. ‘Then you’ll understand everything.’
They left the safety of the foxhole and began to track their way down towards the bridge. The river was a dead thing, full of corpses. The ruins of the Blood Pact platforms smouldered in the evening haze. Gaunt could still hear the drums of the Sons of Sek, pounding like an irregular heartbeat.
Caffran took point, sweeping ahead with his lasrifle. The boy was good, sharp, a potential scout. Gaunt tried to remember why he hadn’t promoted Caffran to Mkoll’s unit. It was a clear oversight. Gaunt must have had a good reason not to send the boy on.
Corbec and Feygor flanked Gaunt, weapons ready. Corbec was humming an old Tanith wood-song. The sound of it made Gaunt feel much more comfortable. Just like the old days. Corbec would hum along to Milo’s pipes. Why didn’t that happen any more? Where had Corbec been, these last few combat tours?
Gaunt remembered Beltayn saying something about Corbec. He couldn’t quite recall what it was.
Feygor was quiet. Everything he said sounded like a petulant sarcastic jibe thanks to his artificial larynx. He kept his comments to himself.
Try brought up the rear, lugging his twin autocannons.
‘Just like old times, huh?’ he said.
‘Noise discipline!’ Corbec hissed.
‘Yeah, just like old times,’ said Bragg.
Caffran held up a hand for full stop. They halted. Gaunt readied his pistol and his sword. He’d wanted to bring Nessa’s long-las, but Corbec had told him Nessa might want it back and he should leave it be.
‘Caff?’ Gaunt called.
Movement, Caffran signed.
‘Great,’ said Feygor. This time, his sarcasm was intentional.
The drumming had got louder and faster, like a racing heart.
‘What have we got, Caff?’ asked Corbec softly, crawling forwards.
‘Sons of Sek between us and the bridge,’ Caffran reported. ‘Dozens of them.’
‘What about the watchers?’ asked Gaunt.
‘The what?’ asked Feygor.
‘The watchers in black,’ said Gaunt.
‘Oh, them,’ said Bragg. ‘They’re just your imagination, they are.’
‘What?’ asked Gaunt.
‘Everyone shut up,’ said Corbec. ‘We’re about to wade into the deep and stinky. Everyone locked? Everyone loaded?’
‘Yes, sir,’ the three Ghosts replied.
‘’Bram?’
Gaunt nodded. ‘I’m ready, Colm. Who wants to live forever?’
‘Well, you, I hope,’ said Corbec. ‘For a while, at least. That’s the whole point of this.’
Gaunt looked at him.
‘You’ve got to live, Ibram,’ said Corbec. ‘You’ve just got to. That’s the way of it. You’re important, more important than you can imagine. You and the Ghosts, it’s going to be down to you. The whole Crusade depends on you. Win or lose, it’s going to be down to you in the end.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, Colm,’ Gaunt said.
‘I know you don’t,’ said Corbec, ‘but you will.’
‘You said “me and the Ghosts”,’ said Gaunt. ‘You’re Ghosts too.’
‘Yes, we are,’ said Bragg. ‘We really are.’
‘Let’s do this, shall we, gents?’ Corbec suggested. ‘On three. One, two...’
The Sons of Sek were the hardest bastards Gaunt had ever encountered on the field of war. Chasing for the bridge, the five Ghosts ploughed into them. The fight turned to hell. It wasn’t exhilarating. The old fury didn’t relight.
It was a bloody, butchering slog. It was war at its darkest and most tenacious.
The Sons came at them from all sides in the twilight. Drumming was the only sound Gaunt could hear. Feygor, Caffran and Corbec slammed off shots as they came in, and Bragg followed on, blasting with his cannons. He mowed them down. The Sons of Sek were so many, he didn’t have to try again. Gaunt’s sword swung and struck. He emptied his bolt pistol four times.
He thought they would be overwhelmed. He thought they weren’t going to make it, but they were fast, and they were good, and they had surprise on their side, despite the incredible ferocity of the Sons of Sek.
They were Ghosts. They were five of the best Guardsmen the Imperium had ever produced.
They covered one another. They checked and turned with expertise. They watched the flanks, they plastered the angles, they fired in turns to stagger reloading. At any given point in the action at least three of them were shooting.
They cut through the Sons like an elite strike force, because they were an elite strike force. They were immortals. They were gods of war.
They reached the bridge.
‘On you go, then,’ said Corbec.
‘We all go across,’ said Gaunt. He turned to look at the four Ghosts. They were standing, weapons ready, in a semi-circle behind him, facing the bridge.
‘That’s not how it works,’ said Feygor.
‘We can’t cross the bridge,’ said Caffran.
‘But you’ve got to,’ said Bragg.
‘I’m not about to leave you here,’ said Gaunt.
‘That’s just how it goes,’ said Corbec. ‘You go on alone from here. You cross the bridge. We stay on this side.’
‘Why?’
‘Because we have to,’ said Corbec. ‘We can’t cross over, but you can. Now go on with you. Don’t make us wish we hadn’t made this effort. Cross the fething bridge, ’bram. Cross it.’
‘But–’
‘Cross it!’ snapped Bragg.
‘You’ll see us again soon enough, sir,’ said Caffran.
‘Unless you do end up living for ever,’ said Feygor.
Gaunt turned and looked at the bridge. It was vast and empty and iron, and it seemed to stretch away as far as he could see.
‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘I’m tired. My eyes hurt. I don’t know if I can make it all that way.’
‘You have to,’ said Caffran. ‘They’re waiting for you on the other side.’
‘I’m so tired, Caff,’ Gaunt said. ‘Can’t I stay here with you?’