Free Ahriman: Sorcerer by John French Page A

shook his head and replied anyway.
    ‘Yes, all is well in a personal sense too.’
    He closed his eyes again, and let the voice of his mind slip free.
    +Ahriman,+ he sent, feeling the thought reach across the void to the Sycorax .
    +Ignis.+ The sending was delicate, but to Ignis it sounded like the low rumble of a rock slide. He flinched, and felt the counting and calculations slip from his focus. He bit off an angry mental retort, as he tried to pull the threads of number and pattern back together. +Ignis,+ came Ahriman’s thought voice. +What do you have to tell me?+
    Ignis had no choice but to let go of the calculations.
    +It is done. The world will be dust in twenty-seven hours.+
    +The third salvo–+
    +Is to be sure, though the outcome is now a certainty. Twenty-seven hours, not one minute more. Beyond that, one thousand and eight hours should see the majority of the population depleted, and the rest incapable of impeding us.+
    +My thanks, brother. You will join me on the surface once it is done.+
    ‘Astraeos.’ Izdubar echoed the bound Space Marine’s name into the silence, as though he was weighing it on his tongue.
    Astraeos remained silent, his lone eye steady on Iobel.
    ‘He was recovered from a ship found drifting close to the Cadian Gate,’ said Iobel. ‘The ship was wrecked and warp damaged. Only he was found alive, his life processes in suspension.’ A ripple of glances ran around the chamber.
    ‘Really?’ It was the girl in the red bodyglove, again. She leant back, shrugging, her face composed into a superior sneer as she looked at Iobel, Malkira and Erionas. ‘Please tell me you have something other than this? A lone traitor, spat out of the Eye, with a name and a claim to serve another traitor who has not been heard of since the dark times? What else do you know of him?’ She turned her sneer to Astraeos. ‘Of what world were you born? What Chapter did you betray?’ She cocked her head to the side. The gesture reminded Iobel of a bird of prey. ‘What was the cause of your treachery?’ The girl smiled as no answer came. ‘Your evidence seems reluctant to answer.’
    Iobel looked at Izdubar. The lord inquisitor was still smiling.
    ‘Why now?’ croaked another inquisitor from the folds of his robes. ‘Why summon a conclave now?’ continued the dry voice. ‘You venture into the Eye, you find an echo that speaks of Ahriman, and then a traitor to a traitor falls into your hands with the same name on his lips. A coincidence?’ He left the word hanging like a curse. ‘Or is something hearing your desire and answering? And if so,’ his fat, pale lips parted to show emerald teeth, ‘why now?’
    ‘Why does it matter?’ Iobel said.
    ‘Diplomatically done,’ muttered Cavor from behind her.
    ‘You missed a question,’ said Izdubar. ‘All of you should also ask “why us?”’ He nodded again. ‘The answer to why now is meaningless. It is a confluence of time and events. Coincidence, yes, but each of us knows that there is no such thing, not in the world we see. We are all here because we know of the Fifteenth Legion, the warriors of the fall called the Thousand Sons. We have seen the footsteps they left in the ashes of worlds, heard their sins whispered from dry pages. Even if you did not know all of it, you have all seen the scars they have left. We are their enemies.’ He turned his head to the girl in the bodyglove. ‘And while you are correct to challenge this evidence, mamzel, there is of course another way to get answers to questions.’
    Cendrion glanced up at Izdubar, then to Iobel. She met his eyes, held his gaze, and then slowly nodded. The Grey Knight moved forwards, his hand rising. The gauntlet on his right hand released, and unfolded from his fingers with a stutter of metallic clicks. He raised his bare hand; the fingers were long, and seemed delicate despite their size. Cendrion closed his eyes.
    Iobel braced herself a second before the null field generators shut down