Ciaphas Cain: Choose Your Enemies

We all followed, and I found myself surrounded by high, green hedges, with a narrow slot of the dome above us and the planet beyond visible above my head. Neatly mown turf, short and springy, was under my feet, and I took a few cautious steps, while the others crowded in behind me. The chatter of the party outside was muted, already almost inaudible, making every breath and rustle of clothing sound preternaturally loud.

‘Which way?’ Vekkman asked, and I gestured in the direction Defroy had told me about.

‘Keep taking the second left, followed by the first right,’ I said. ‘According to Defroy, that should take us straight to the centre.’

‘Seems clear enough,’ he agreed, striding out confidently in the direction I’d indicated.

All went well at first, and we made good progress, although the air between the hedges seemed thick and cloying – an effect I’d initially put down to the lack of any breeze, and the narrowness of the passage, which was barely wide enough to walk down in single file. Since Vekk­man had decided to take the lead, which was fine by me, I followed, drawing my sidearms as I did so, finding their familiar weight distinctly comforting. Jurgen, of course, was right behind me, something I was aware of without needing to turn round to look, and Amberley followed hard on his heels. I wasn’t sure if anyone behind me had drawn their weapons too,188 but Vekkman now had a bolt pistol in one hand, with the self-confident air of a man perfectly prepared to use it, and a curious obsidian staff, about the length of my chainsword, in the other. I’d never seen anything like it before, but it looked sinister, somehow, a faint nimbus of abnatural energies playing about it.

‘Can you smell that?’ Jurgen asked, and I nodded.

‘I can,’ I said, my sense of unease growing exponentially. A thick, cloying scent was hanging in the air, mingled with that of damp leaves and clipped foliage. ‘Like the tunnels around the temple we found on Drechia.’

‘Really?’ Vekkman glanced back at me, his face perturbed. ‘Then we must be getting close.’

‘I think we are,’ I said. ‘Look at the leaves.’

He peered at the nearest hedge, and nodded slowly. ‘I see what you mean,’ he said. The vegetation had changed, taking on a more fleshy aspect, like tiny green tongues; as I stared at the nearest it seemed to move slightly, curling in a fashion which seemed faintly and repulsively lascivious. ‘Best get on, then.’

‘Better had,’ I agreed, and we picked up the pace, through passages which continued to change and mutate the deeper we penetrated into the heart of this unhallowed place. Now green was giving way to a thousand shades of pink and brown, throbbing with unholy life – coiling and writhing around us, reaching out beseechingly as we passed.

‘Second left, first right,’ Vekkman muttered, no doubt trying to keep his mind on the job. The cloying scent was growing thicker with every footstep, making us all light-headed, and I found myself grateful for Jurgen’s proximity, his familiar earthy aroma undercutting it and keeping me grounded. ‘Second left… Stop! Dead end.’ He turned his head, scanning our surroundings, looking faintly confused. ‘I must have miscounted.’

‘You didn’t,’ I said, a thrill of alarm coursing through me. I’d been counting too, and I’d wager that the rest of us had as well.

‘Back up,’ Amberley suggested, turning round carefully, keeping as far from the palpitating walls as she could. ‘Retrace our steps.’

We set off back the way we’d come, Amberley now in the lead. After a couple of twists and turns she slowed her pace, glancing around with a distinctly hesitant air.

‘There should be a side passage here,’ she said. ‘But it’s gone.’

‘Warpcraft,’ Vekkman said, sounding irritated rather than afraid. ‘The space is changing around us.’

‘That way,’ I said, pointing at the nearest hedge; my knack for remaining orientated still seemed as reliable as ever, even in an environment as eldritch as this. I activated my chainsword. ‘If the path’s blocked, we’ll just have to make our own.’ I swung the humming blade at the wall of vegetation, hacking through it as easily as the body of a gretchin – even more easily, in fact, as there were no bits of bone to check the whirling teeth, even for a millisecond. Pieces of twig, shredded leaves and ­gobbets of sap sprayed in all directions as I carved my way through, creating a gap into the next lane which widened appreciably as the intertwining bushes writhed backwards out of the way of the screaming blade.

‘Good idea! Keep going!’ Amberley urged me, so I did, slicing inexorably through one hedge after another, while the others hurried in my wake, crowding though the holes I’d carved before they closed up again like healing wounds.

‘This might be faster, sir,’ Jurgen suggested, cradling the melta, and tempted though I was, I shook my head.