‘Then this camp is about to get a sight bloodier than it already is.’
Hauke’s eyes narrowed as he considered what he regarded as a request and not an order. ‘I like you, Volpone. We will come.’
Culcis tried to mask his sudden fluster but failed. ‘Very good then.’
As the Kauth relaxed, Hauke looked to a pair of nearby hills, overlooking the billet. He made a noise like a shrieking prey-bird and two sentries emerged from their hiding place, each shouldering a long-las.
Culcis hadn’t noticed, but Speers had taken up a position by one of the tents, his lasgun aimed at the very selfsame spot in the hills.
‘I had ’em, sir,’ he said, lowering his gunsights now the Longstriders had revealed themselves.
Culcis wasn’t sure about that. He was only glad Hauke had been so gracious about being taken into Volpone custody. The spilling of more blood was the last thing Sagorrah needed. But he suspected it wasn’t done with it, not yet. They made for the Volpone billet and only disarmed their prisoners once they’d arrived.
Major Regara was poised at the threshold of the makeshift holding room where they’d put Hauke and his three officers. He looked nonplussed at Culcis.
‘They submitted without a fight?’
‘Yes, sir. The Kauth captain stated he would be pleased to converse with you.’
Regara made the equivalent facial expression of a shrug and moved into the holding room where Speers and Drado were already waiting. Culcis followed the major, leaving Sergeant Pillier at the door on guard.
Drado was looking nervous as he cradled his lasgun. Seemed as if the near miss in camp had spooked him. The entire room felt tense, in fact. No stranger to conducting interrogations, Speers had already removed his carapace breastplate and was rolling up his sleeves when the two officers entered. Culcis leaned in to have a word in the corporal’s ear.
‘Let’s just ask some questions first, eh?’
Speers sought Regara’s nod of approval before he backed off.
The lieutenant took his place and addressed Hauke.
‘What we all saw out in the slums with the Harpine is starting to happen here, in the Sagorrah camp.’
The Longstrider captain said nothing but stared intently, his eyes like burning sapphires.
‘It’s been slow at first but now the effects are starting to tell. The discord, the lack of discipline, the murders, executions and brawling are all a product of whatever is afflicting the camp. Likely some outside force, in league with the Ruinous Powers.’
Culcis caught Drado out of the corner of his eye making the sign of the aquila.
Hauke smiled without mirth, without warmth. ‘And you think we Kauth responsible, eh, Volpone?’
‘You are the only regiment unaffected by the taint.’
Now the warmth returned. ‘We are blessed.’ Hauke slapped his hand on the shoulder of the warrior next to him, his banner bearer. The pole with the ragged strip of cloth was held firmly but reverently by the Longstrider. It was the only item they’d refused to be parted from and Culcis had seen no harm in that.
‘Touched by Saint Sabbat,’ Hauke added, touching the fabric, ‘for our fight on Vigo’s Hill.’
‘Explain.’
‘After Herodor, we fought many battles. The world I don’t remember,’ Hauke confessed, ‘there were many. Vigo’s Hill stays in mind. We fought last stand. It was to be end of Longstriders. Until She came.’
Regara made a grunting sound and came forwards. ‘You cannot expect us to believe this. The Saint rescued your sorry hides and touched your banner, thereby blessing you and your savage brethren? Likely you were cowering in the dirt or hacking trophies from your enemies, tantamount to beasts. Saint Sabbat would not bless beasts.’
‘It is so,’ said Hauke, without anger, without aggression. It was an irrefutable truth to him, as pointless to argue against as it was to protest for.
Leaning in to Hauke, the major scowled. ‘Where are the others, the rest of the insurgents? Are there more glyphs around the camp? Is that how you’re affecting the men?’
Hauke frowned as if hearing the answer to a puzzle he didn’t quite understand.
‘But you are not affected, Volpone–’
‘Address me as major, you dog!’ Regara looked to Speers, giving the corporal’s brutalisation tactics sanction.
Speers grinned. Culcis was about to intervene, still unconvinced by the major’s argument, when a new voice filled the holding room.
‘I shall take it from here, major.’
It was Commissar Arbettan with Ossika loitering in the background.
They weren’t alone. Arbettan had brought five of his goons with him. The meatheaded cadets bristled with violent intent behind the commissar. All wore the familiar pistol bulges just under their frock coats. The commissar had his side holster exposed. The pearl grip of an ornate bolt pistol was in full view. Ossika looked indignant but also slightly terrified.
‘I told you back in the mess, commissar,’ said Regara, straightening his back and thrusting out his chin, ‘this is Volpone business. I shall deal with it.’
The tension had just racked up a few notches. Drado was sweating, fingers itching on the stock and trigger of his lasgun. Culcis flashed him a stern but reassuring glance to steady him. Speers was already sneaking his hand to the laspistol attached to his belt. As for Pillier, he’d been muscled out of the way by a sixth cadet and waited calmly outside. His eyes were on the major, as he waited to back up any decision Regara was about to make.
‘Hand over the prisoners, Regara,’ ordered Arbettan. ‘Do so immediately and you’ll be free of further repercussion, including the theft of Commissariat property and the assault of one of my men.’
‘Thought you said he wouldn’t find him,’ hissed Culcis into Speers’s ear.
The corporal gave a near imperceptible shrug.
Speers received a bladed look from behind Arbettan’s glare-goggles. His jaw hardened in response and his hand crept a little closer to his pistol.
‘Get ready...’ said Culcis. Only one way this was going to go now.
‘Yes, sir.’
Arbettan looked at Regara and smiled.
‘In the Emperor’s name, I condemn thee to death!’ he cried. Ripping out his bolt pistol, he fired.
The heavy boom of the bolt pistol filled the chamber, reverberating around its rockcrete bulkheads and columns like thunder.
Regara flinched, already tearing his hellpistol free, when one of the Kauth officers behind him bucked and exploded as the mass-reactive rounds destroyed him.
For Culcis, everything went into slow motion. He felt the warmth of sudden blood spatter against his neck and face, the percussive force of the expelled bolter round upon his back. He was moving. Head low, he made for the nearest column. Six in total, supported the makeshift holding room’s puckered ceiling. Three stone bulkheads jutted from one flanking wall, dividing it into three discrete sections. It was huge, but was wide and long enough for a medium fire exchange. After the first shot fired that’s exactly what happened.
Slipping out his pistol, Culcis snapped off a few shots and caught a cadet in the leg. A hot blue beam from Drado’s direction pierced the same cadet’s sternum and he fell.
Arbettan was moving too and returning fire.
In the space of a few brutal, muzzle-flaring seconds, every man in the tight chamber had gone for cover, hunkering behind the bulkheads and columns. Both forces retreated to opposite ends of the room and the space inbetween was littered with shells and las-tracer.
The air became charged with heat. The sound of discharged weapons fire was deafening.
Speers was hugging the wall. He leaned out to take a cadet through the throat with a finely aimed shot but spun as return fire glanced his shoulder. He went down, blood streaming along his arm before Culcis lost him from sight.