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machines。'
'Machines？'
'Handheld。 Auspexes。'
'Measuring again；' Neve whispered over the link。
'I'm sure；' I said。 Then I said； in Glossia： 'Thorn eyes flesh； rapturous beasts at hand。 Aegis to arms； crucible。 All points cowled。 Razor
torus pathway； pattern ebony。'
MY STORM…GUN MADE a loud click as I racked it。
The robed men working in the floodlights around the foot of the pylon froze and slowly turned from their work to look at me。
I walked down from the moor； through the ice…stiffened bracken； bracing my gun in a pose that could kill any one of them。
Bequin followed me a few steps behind； her pistol held loosely； ready to swing up。
I knew we were covered by Husmaan； Inshabel； Nayl and Fischig。
'Who is the leader here？' I asked； panning my weapon around。
'I am；' said one of the robed figures。
'Step forward and identify yourself；' I said。
'To whom？'
I raised the rosette plainly in my left hand： 'Imperial Inquisition！' Some of the robed men moaned with dismay。
The leader did not。 He stepped forward。 I could suddenly smell a cold； metallic scent； one that was not new to me。
A warning that came too late。
The leader slowly drew back his cowl。 His angular； cruel head was hairless and a cold blue light shone out through his skin。
Sharpened； steel…tipped horns sprouted from his brow。 His eyes were white slits。
A daemonhost！
'Cherubael？' I said； foolishly； stupidly。
'Your witless ally is not here； Eisenhorn；' said the being； baring his teeth and gleaming with light。
'My name is Prophaniti。'
FIFTEEN
ROSE THORN。
WHAT CADIANS ARE BORN FOR。
THE LAST THING I EXPECTED。
THERE WERE TWO ways for this to go。 The first was for me to continue talking； and still be talking when the daemonhost killed me and
tossed my smoking corpse on the piled bodies of my comrades。 The second was for me to say ''Rose thorn'' and place my trust in the
mettle of my supporters and the ever…vigilant gaze of the holy God…Emperor。
I said； 'Rose thorn。'
The thing； Prophaniti； was stepping towards me。 I shot at it with my storm…gun； watching in horrid fascination as it caught the white
hot bolt rounds out of the air in its outstretched hands； like a man idly catching slow…tossed racquet balls。
The bolts dulled to an ember…red in its palms； and it tossed them aside。
But its entire attention was on me。
Its mistake。
Husmaan's first hot…shot round cracked into the side of its head； and snapped its skull around。 As it was reeling； its robes were ripped
across by double laspistol fire from Inshabel。 Then Fischig's riot…gun roared and knocked it down in the brittle bracken。 Fischig liked
to spend his free time hand…moulding the shot for his riot…gun's cartridges。 Every pellet was silver； and stamped with a sacred sigil of
warding that I had taught him long ago。
Prophaniti writhed in agony； the blessed buck…shot burning into its flesh。 It started to rise； wrathful and frenzied； but a grinding whir
rose from my left； a sound like a circular saw running up to speed。
Nayl's cycling drum…cannon raked the daemonhost and the earth around it； doing hideous damage。 The blizzard of shots twisted it；
ripping off one of its legs at the knee and the fingers off its left hand。
Eldritch power； white…cold like frost； spurted from its wounds like lava； and burned the soil。
The other cultists were moving now； pulling weapons and firing wildly into the night。 The place lit up with shooting。
Las…fire came from behind us； startlingly close； whipping past our elbows and shoulders。 Two of the cultists crumpled； one of them
smashing over some of the erected floodlights。
Echbar and his Kasrkin charged in past us to engage。
In truth； I may say now that they were somehow more terrifying than the daemonhost。 For Prophaniti was a supernatural thing； and
one expected it to be horrifying。
The Kasrkin were just men。 It made their actions all the more astonishing。 Six white blurs； they fell upon the cultists； lasguns barking
at close range。 They wasted no shots。 One shot； one kill。 A cultist fled past me； and a Kasrkin swung to bring him down。 His weapon
refused to fire as its sight…auspex detected my bio…spoor in the range…field。 A second later； I was no longer blocking the shot and the
weapon spat。
The fleeing cultist tumbled over headlong in the brush。
More cultists had emerged from the other side of the pylon； and I could hear rapid exchanges of gunfire in that direction。 Nayl's
combat…cannon was making its distinctive metallic whir between bursts of fire。 Inshabel's las…cracks overlapped themselves。
'Fischig！' I yelled。 'Lead off round the back of the pylon。 See what you can find。 Maybe take a damn prisoner before the Kasrkin slay
them all！'
I turned back to deal with the ruined daemonhost。 We had punished it badly； but I had no illusions as to its resilience。
Or rather… I had thought I hadn't。
Prophaniti was already gone； the ground still smoking and congealing where it had lain。
'Damn！ Damn！'
Neve limped down the slope to me。 'Eisenhorn？'
'The daemonhost！ Did you see it？'
She shook her head。 A loud explosion rolled from the far side of the pylon。
'You killed it； didn't you？'
'Not even slightly；' I replied。
'Gregor！' Bequin shrieked。
Prophaniti was behind me； hanging in the air； incandescent with power。 It was naked； and wore the terrible wounds we had inflicted
like medals。 The right leg； frayed at the knee； dribbled glowing white ichor。 Entry wounds and burns bubbled and smoked across its
chest。 Its head hung slack on a neck broken by Husmaan's hot…shot。 It spread its arms and a hand that was just a thumb and a mangled
palm sprayed lightning into the midnight grass。
'Nice… try…' the slack head gurgled。
With its robe gone； I could see its body was strung with chains； padlocks and bindings。 Stitching needles and other iron awls were
pierced into its luminous flesh。 Various amulets hung from the chains； or from the barbed wire looped around its neck。
'Run；' I said to Neve and Bequin。 'Run！'
Neve raised her silver cane and triggered the launcher。
The grenade hit Prophaniti in the lower torso and blew it back a few metres with a flash of fyceline。
It rushed back towards us； moaning and chattering in a warp…cursed language。
Bequin grabbed both me and Neve。 Her untouchable quality was our only defence now； and she knew it。
Prophaniti stopped short of us； just a metre or so away； hovering in the air and shining like a star。 I could smell the rank stench of
eternal murder about it。
Its broken neck made a sound like snapping twigs as it slowly turned its lolling head to look at us。 The light of dead suns billowed
from its eyes and mouth。
Bequin's fingers bit into my arm。 The three of us looked up at it； hair ruffled by the warp…winds it generated。
'Tenacious；' it said。 'No wonder Cherubael likes you。 He said you employed untouchables。 A wise move。 You can't hurt me with your
guns； but with her around； I can't touch you with my mind。'
'Fortunately； I don't have to；' it added。
It lashed out suddenly with its maimed hand。 Neve shrieked as she was hurled aside。 There was blood on Prophaniti's thumb talon。
Alizebeth's psychic deadness blocked its psychic rage。 But not its physical assault。
It lashed out again； and I leapt back； dragging Bequin。
Prophaniti cackled。
'Alizebeth！' I yelled； and grabbed her by the hand。 'Stay with me！'
I drew my hanger。 The short curved blade shone in Prophaniti's glare。 The runes inscribed on the blade by the Ministorum glittered。
I swung hard； skillessly and frantic； the blade of the hunting sword biting into its rib…meat。 It howled and flew back； smoke issuing
from the gash。
I circled； hanger in my right hand； Bequin clinging to my left。
'You've done your homework。 Pentagrammatic runes on your blade。 A nice touch。 They hurt！'
It lunged at me。
'But nothing like the hurt you will feel！'
Alizebeth screamed。 She fell； and I struggled to hold on to her hand。 If our contact broke； I would feel the full force of the
daemonhost's power。
I blocked with my falcate blade； shredding the flesh off the left part of its chest； exposing the ribs。
Its talons ripped into my left shoulder and down my flank； ripping my body…armour into tatters。
Blood cascaded down inside my clothes。
I swung again；