Chapter 40 - Trazyn's Principles
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It happened fast. Kullen's body moved before his mind did. He grabbed Kellen and leaped from the platform.
The high-frequency cutting field blazed through the blade. In the azure glow, Kullen became an immovable wall, planting himself between Horus and the alien intruder.
The Son of the Lion was Horus's guardian now. He had to protect the Wolf Shepherd. Until this metal-forged alien made its intentions clear, he would watch every move it made.
"I hold no hostility toward you."
The mechanical transmission shaft at the visitor's jaw opened and closed. The translation matrix decoded ancient sound waves into precise, orderly High Gothic.
Cawl wasn't buying it.
The Archmagos responded, his sole remaining flesh-face twisting into open loathing. He leveled an Omnissian Axe with a disruption field directly at the Endless One.
"But you are an abomination."
"Archmagos, one's choice of vocabulary often reflects the limitations of individual refinement." The Endless One held his scepter in a reverse grip, the pommel tapping against the ground. "In matters of protocol, I much prefer the title of honored guest. What say you, noble Wolf Shepherd?"
A series of dry, grating sounds came from the metal joints. The Necron bent his segmented spine, joint by joint, and performed a grand ceremonial bow, the kind reserved for gene-primarchs during the Great Crusade.
Horus stood directly beneath the light source, looking down at the outsider from above.
The Wolf Shepherd watched with cold eyes. No warmth. Only the habitual discipline of a man who had once commanded ten thousand armies, a nod so slight it was barely there.
Seizing the lull in the standoff, Kellen leaned forward half a step, dropped his voice, and poured everything he had stored in his head into the primarch.
Trazyn the Infinite. Living thief of the Solemnace Dynasty. A Necron overlord who had survived cycles spanning millions of years, pathologically obsessed with hunting down every major historical node across the universe, dragging the key players into stasis fields and turning them into life-sized dioramas.
Intelligence delivered. Horus re-measured the alien before him and sketched the outline of a thief in his mind.
"Belisarius, regardless of how repugnant this skeletal frame may be, the objective reality is this: you and I are standing on the same crumbling ground, with the same interests."
The Archmagos didn't yield an inch. "The orthodox doctrines of Mars contain no provision for colluding with heretics."
"Truth is never a dead end." Trazyn didn't bother arguing doctrine with the Archmagos. He shifted his attention to the primary authority.
"A primarch's cognitive center intervening does indeed multiply the speed of deciphering the Blackstone Obelisk network." The Necron's fingers traced over the fragmented stone tablets on the workbench. "However, meticulous work such as deconstructing ancient arrays has never been the most distinguished entry on the Lord of the Lunar Wolves' résumé. Do you concur with that assessment, noble Wolf Shepherd?"
"You know the secrets of these black spires?"
Horus asked, brow furrowed, eyes fixed on Trazyn.
"When these devices first operated, I was present. Or perhaps I was not in attendance that day. Time is a dull blade. Underlying storage logs develop bad sectors eventually. Memory erosion is a condition shared by all things in the universe."
"Though our races regard each other with enmity, that does not preclude us, as races of the material universe — from sharing an unwillingness to see the galaxy torn apart by entities from the Empyrean."
Then the Endless One looked at Kullen, who had been coiled to strike since the moment this conversation began, and let out a soft laugh.
"If you wish to kill me, go ahead. Nothing will change. Everything will fall into its predetermined fate, for you, for me, for the world alike."
At Horus's signal, Kullen sheathed his power sword. Cawl put away the Omnissian Axe.
"Wise." Trazyn offered the praise without hesitation. "A Wolf God who maintains his reason, this is worlds apart from that galaxy-spanning upheaval 10,000 years ago. Shatter the barriers. Set right what has been wronged. This reversal drama stepping onto history's grand stage is a feast for any spectator standing outside the fray."
"I thought that when you found me, you'd seize me. Like all your other collectibles."
Horus scoffed. He'd learned about this Endless One's collecting obsession from Kellen.
"Ah, I am indeed a collector. But my collecting has principles. Rather than collecting you, great Wolf God, I much prefer to be an observer, to evaluate every decision you make going forward. Variables fermenting are what produce peculiar fruits distinct from fate's design."
"Those scenes, however, I shall certainly collect. Heh."
The laughter faded. Trazyn's gaze settled on Kellen, standing at Horus's side.
"This one is also acceptable, of course. In exchange, I would grant you a collectible of mine with considerably greater value."
Kellen blinked.
Bro. Are you seriously trying to make me a collectible?
But he thought it through. This Necron had obviously clocked his identity as an outsider. A transmigrator who could summon Horus to the present, that did have considerable collectible value, he had to admit.
Before Kellen could say a word, Horus spoke. His voice had gone cold.
"Dismiss that notion, Mister Trazyn. I, Lupercal, do not sell out friends."
"Not even for an uncorrupted clone of a gene-primarch brother?"
Trazyn said.
A flicker of shock crossed Horus's eyes. Then he answered immediately.
"I would not do so even then!"
His voice came out sharp.
"You already know my position, Mister Trazyn. Do not test it further!"
"Now tell us what these black spires truly are. Their nature. Their secrets. What exactly are they!"
That attitude. That expression. Trazyn had only ever seen it on Horus's most beloved sons.
No. Not entirely alike.
There was also something of the Emperor and the Sigillite in it.
That was more accurate.
The thought made Trazyn laugh again, but he let the subject drop.
The Endless One answered Cawl's questions about the true purpose of the Blackstone Obelisks, and provided the technical solutions for Blackstone devices that the Martian Priesthood had desperately sought for 10,000 years. Then he vanished without a trace.
Cawl and Horus gave him no further thought. They turned their full attention to the research.
And as the study of the Blackstone spires found its footing, the Chaos Warmaster launched another offensive.
---
"I will go down personally."
Aboard the Vengeful Spirit, Abaddon spoke to one of his Chaos Lord bodyguards, Devram Korda.
"I will personally slay that Castellan of Creed. I will personally destroy the planetary void shield generator."
The Great Despoiler's voice was calm.
But Devram saw no fury on the Chaos Warmaster's face. No expression at all.
Blank. Utterly blank. That was the eerie part.
"Do you require more elite warriors, Warmaster?"
"No."
Abaddon replied.
"When we eliminate the void shield generator and that mortal castellan, the Planet Killer and the Blackstone Fortress will destroy Cadia. Everyone will die."
"Including him."
"My Warmaster, who is he—"
Before Devram could finish, Abaddon's boot connected with his breastplate.
The kick sent him flying.
The Great Despoiler roared.
"Why the hell do you keep asking questions! Is following my orders really that difficult!? I have already surpassed my father! I am stronger and more intelligent than he ever was!"
"Do you think I'm inferior to my father!?"
Watching the Despoiler come apart, Devram broke into a cold sweat. He lowered his head.
"Your achievements are unmatched — unprecedented, and never to be equaled!"
"Then get ready! Assemble the Legion veterans! And follow me down!"
"Yes! Warmaster!"
➤ Next: Come, Accompany Me to See My Son
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