Lord of the Night

The trance had lasted some four hours, he judged, when his slumbering senses awoke him. Someone was approaching.

The Shadowkin lair clung to the trunk of one of the great stacks that comprised the Steel Forest, jutting from its girth like a fungus, and Sahaal had found its fortification impressive. As the frightened mob had conducted him aboard their iron-pulleyed elevators he had observed their regimented movements, their well maintained weapons, their silent obedience. Their discipline was impressive, their focus commendable and their arsenal — in the midst of such squalor — fearsome indeed.

They were a tribe of zealots, he had quickly learned, puritans that had rejected the wickedness of the hive centuries before, sinking down to the depths of the underhive where they could pursue their veneration unhindered. They saw in their Emperor a divine judge, in whose name iniquity was purged and impurity burned away. Through long decades their worship had intertwined itself with a morbid indulgence: deifying their lord in his aspect as Death — the ultimate leveller — and revelling in the melancholic symbols of mortality.

Bone worshippers. Scalp hunters.

Corpse-bearers.

Further, finding themselves surrounded by filth and hedonism, hemmed in by false worshippers and iniquitous licence, they had elected themselves to a divine mission, reasoning that they alone must execute the Emperor's law.

They were pious vigilantes, these quiet warriors, and in them Sahaal saw echoes of his master's youth, stalking the streets of Nostramo Quintus, judging and striking from the shadows.

They reminded him of himself, and were it not for their misplaced reverence he might whole-heartedly have accepted their hospitality, told them the truth, secured their obedience for all the right reasons...

But no... No, they were the Emperor's sons and daughters first, and creatures of the night second. He could seek sanctuary amongst them but could never fully lower his guard. His dark beliefs would be anathema to these pious fools, and the irony of the situation was not lost on him: such similar disciplines, such reflected methods, such matching values, but such opposite causes.

So it was that when their priestess scrambled towards Sahaal's mediation platform on her hands and knees, her heart hammering like a drum in his ears, he was awake before she had even opened her mouth.

'Why do you disturb me?' he said, and he smiled inside his helm at the shiver that rattled through her.

'F-forgive me, my lord, I did not intend to discomfort you...'

He dismissed her cowering with a flick of his wrist, tilting his head to regard her closely. 'By what name are you known, child?'

This request seemed to confuse her. Whatever news she'd rushed to divulge, a personal introduction had not been amongst it. 'Chianni, my lord.'

'You are the leader of this band?'

'N... I... I was the second, my lord. B-beneath Con-demnitor Kalriian.'

'And where is he?'

Her eyes, if possible, bulged wider still.

'Y-you... you killed him, my lord...'

Sahaal recalled that first simpering figure, approaching from the shadows outside Herniatown, cut down in mid-exultation. He smoothly extended his duplicity: 'He was remiss in his devotions. It was a mercy to cut him down.'

If she doubted the excuse she gave no sign of it. 'A-as you wish it, my lord.'

He pointed a long claw at her heart, enjoying her squirms. 'You shall be the new condemnitor.'

She dipped her head in shivering gratitude, sweat glistening in the dark. 'You honour me, lord, but I—'

'You may leave me. I would continue my meditation.'

For a second she seemed torn, as if her body would love nothing more than to comply, but her brows dipped and she remained where she was, struggling to speak. Sahaal watched her with interest.

'It is... please, lord. The scouts sent up flares. There are intruders abroad. Judge-men from the city.' She cast her eyes upwards towards the distant struts of the hive-bottom. 'Vindictors from above. We... we seek your counsel.'

'What do they want?' Sahaal's voice contrived to indicate that such tedious announcements were beneath his interest.

'I do not know, lord. T-they share our cause — in the main — though their laws are lax in the Emperor's eyes. Is it not said tha—'

'Spare me the lesson. Are they your enemies?'

She swallowed hard and shook her head, eyes bright in the gloom. 'They have never sought our ruin, lord. They would not enter our territory without cause.'

'I see.'

'T-there is something else...'

'Yes?'

'They... they travel with a mutant. A... a giant. The scouts have seen it. It is... unchained!'

She spoke this last word as if it wounded her to say it, and Sahaal marvelled at the depth of hatred in her voice. Here, even in the filth of the underhive, the Imperium's contempt for all that was 'impure' had found ample representation.

'A mutant?'

'Yes my lord. An abomination in the eyes of the Emperor! I... I have prayed for guidance but—'

'That is unnecessary. I am the Emperor's voice here.'