Incantator Congressus Chapter 35

Dago inched back into the heart of the Fulcrum, trying to go unnoticed. The message had been sent and all that remained was to trust Jubila would come. It seemed an odd thing to be counting on an accursed Heretic, but Dago knew the servants of Chaos were a fractious lot, infighting had ever been their greatest weakness. He knew the warlord would not stand for his rivals to eclipse his glory; vainglorious narcissism would drive Jubila to come and intervene. All Dago had to do was wait.

He looked about the Fulcrum as he returned, hoping to go unnoticed. The site was as he left it, sitting at the heart of the crystal maze the Daemons had raised. Thankfully the pair were still locked in their mediations, performing some unknowable spells. Rebre was not to be seen, lurking somewhere among the cold standing stones and henges, plotting her own treacheries. The Daemons had agreed on some convoluted scheme to dispose of Jubila, but Dago hoped his efforts had rendered their plot moot. Still the distraction had been most convenient to flinch away the Vitality Communion and send a discrete missive, now he had to get it back to where they'd left it before anyone noticed.

There seemed no point in being sly so he hastily moved to the altar slab, stepping around Echeb's prison of frozen time, to reach the fallen stone that passed for a sacrificial slab. He took the Vitality Communion from his pocket and placed it where he had found it, then stepped back. Nobody reacted and he breathed out in relief, it seemed he had got away with it. Still the cost was high, two years of his life had he sold, one wasted for a Daemon's madness, the other spent most fruitfully, or so he prayed. Not that anyone would accept his prayers anymore, he lamented.

A noise behind made him spin about and he saw Harbinger and Ozymandias sag, finishing whatever rite they had performed. Harbinger's host looked tired but he proclaimed, "It is done, the stage is set for the final drama and the trap is primed."

"Good," Ozymandias hissed, "Jubila's death will be slow and painful, I shall enjoy watching his agonised torment."

"Savour whatever pleasure you find," Harbinger sniffed, "I have work to do."

The Daemon turned from the wavering image of the Daemon Prince and moved to the large ring standing proud at the heart of the Fulcrum. Dago stepped nearer, pretending to be the dutiful servant and asked, "What are you doing?"

"Awakening Holdfast's potential," the Daemon replied.

He laid a hand on the cold stone and began singing a discordant song. Dago's ears hurt to hear the clashing notes, sung in a language that could not be formed by a human tongue. Dago was no psyker but he sensed something, a cold aura filling the Fulcrum and a faint vibration rising through his boots. Something was stirring, like the vibration of a cargo-8's engine turning over. He could feel it, the tremor of ancient mechanisms test-firing far below his boots, vast and timeless psychic forces beginning to flow. A faint pattern of lights ran around the ring and then the centre of it filled with blackness. Silky to the eye and rippling as if stirred by a strong breeze. It looked like tar split upon an ocean wave, upright and defying gravity but cloying to touch. Dago felt like he was staring into an infinite pit and a primal instinct told him to fall into that would be a fate worse than death.

He swallowed nervously and asked, "Is that the Warp?"

"Quite the opposite, it is the Materium," Harbinger proclaimed, "Holdfast is connected to the structures that underpin realspace, drilling into the interstitial lattices that form the foundations of reality. What you are looking at is a portal to anywhere in the universe."

"A means to traverse the stars without resorting to the Warp," Dago breathed, "If only the Imperium had realised what potential dwelled under their boots."

"Still so limited in your thinking," Harbinger sneered, "This is no mere webway portal, it is a means to twist the fabric of reality to your whim. The Kinebrach's great dream, stillborn and left on a cold shore to decay. With this space and time and matter become putty in our hands, we could change anything we desired with this, though a single death will suffice… for the moment."

A soft tread behind them heralded Rebre's return and she called, "Then everything is ready?"

"Almost," Harbinger sniffed, "Only a few more ingredients remain to be collected."

"The Gladius Incandor," Dago prompted as a cover.

"Among others," Harbinger agreed, "Even as we speak the fools across this world bring them to us."

Rebre stepped daintily up to them and asked, "You are sure they will come?"

"Certain," Harbinger affirmed, "Wheels are in motion and forces draw together that cannot be denied. Our rivals are carried along by currents unseen, swept up in events beyond their control. They can no more avoid our encounter than a leaf can defy a fast-moving river."

"You assume much about your level of control over events," Rebre countered.

"Oh, but I am not the one steering proceedings," Harbinger laughed, "Dago is the one doing that."

"What?!" Dago spat as his jaw fell. All eyes turned to him and he felt cruel and calculating gazes pin him. He had been discovered, he realised, his subterfuge had been uncovered. They knew he had turned against them; his attempts to be subtle had been futile. His blood ran cold and his heart thundered in his chest from alarm as he backed up and cried, "I have done nothing!"

Harbinger leered knowingly as he retorted, "Yes you have, you stole the Vitality Communion, you summoned our enemies to stop us. You betrayed us all."

Dago's sweating hand fell to his pistol and he drew it in a shaking terror as he cried, "Not one more step!"

Harbinger looked down the length of the barrel and snorted, "I am a Greater Daemon, that will only piss me off."

Dago swung his arm about and pointed it at Echeb's still head as he cried, "Then I'll shoot your sacrifice! If Echeb dies then your ritual is spoilt, I can stop you with a pull of my trigger."

"No you won't," Rebre countered, "You are expecting Jubila to come, to charge in here and wreck everything."

"You are part of this!" Dago cried in dismay.

Harbinger laughed, "Rebre has deceived you, she told you a lovely lie to push you over the edge. You see, I knew a spark of honour remained in your soul. So proud and vain, you would not be content to bow to a Daemon. I knew sooner or later you'd remember your duty to the corpse-god and try to fight me."

Dago's heart hammered in his chest as sweat poured down his brow, "I defy you, I reject you and your schemes. I have undone your plots and destroyed your plans!"

"Destroyed my plans?!" Harbinger laughed, "Dago, you were my plan! All those little hints, all those tidbits I fed you, even the message I let you listen in to, all for your benefit. I was counting on you betraying me!"

"No," Dago spat, "I defeated you."

"You played your part beautifully," Harbinger crowed, "Jubila has claimed the Gladius Incandor and he carries it straight to us. The loyalists follow doggedly, determined to reclaim the blade. Their presence isn't necessary, but I do have unfinished business with Arvael. I would very much like to rip him limb from limb, before I claim the Blade of Reason."

Dago's eyes darted between the conspirators as he spat, "She betrays you too! Rebre and Ozymandias conspire to overthrow you. They have a means to enact the ritual without the Blade, they mean to cut you out and claim the glory of the kill."

From a crystal menhir arose Ozymandias' image and he chuckled, "Gullible fool, that was what we in the service of Chaos like to call a lie. The truth is we had nothing without the blade, no way to enact our spell. Had the loyalist scum kept running we could never have found them, never completed the ritual, but thanks to you that is no longer a problem."

"You have served us well," Harbinger laughed, "We should reward you. But still you have betrayed us, that we cannot forgive."

Dago's arms shook as he cried, "No, it can't be, it's impossible!"

"You are caught in the web of Tzeentch, your every move draws you deeper into the trap. There is no escape from the Architect of Fate."

"Don't come near me, I'll kill him. I'll shoot Echeb!"

But Harbinger grinned, "I don't have to kill you, you have killed yourself."

Sudden pain seized Dago's chest, a vice of agony clamped about his heart. He grabbed his chest as a fiery lance shot down his left arm and his legs gave way under him. Palsy took him and he collapsed, struggling to breathe as his heart quivered in torment. He did not know what was happening and gasped beneath heaving breaths, "What have you… done to me?"

"Nothing," Harbinger sniffed as he loomed against the sky, "You did this. Two years of your life sacrificed… and you only had two years left to give."

"I don't understand…" Dago wheezed.

Harbinger explained, "Your fate was set the moment you were born. A defect in your blood has caused clots to form, a minor genic mutation your Imperial science failed to detect. A blood clot has just lodged in your cardiac arteries, cutting off oxygen to your heart. You were fated to die of a heart attack in two years, but thanks to you that timetable has been moved up a notch."

Ozymandias sneered, "Such a mundane way to die, so banal and uninteresting… but fitting. It's just like you Dago: prosaic."

"Let me have him," Rebre pressed, "I want to taste his blood as the life flees from his eyes."

"In a moment, I have something to collect," Harbinger chided.

"Stay back…" Dago gasped as blackness edged his vision.

But Harbinger stooped as he explained, "You see it wasn't just the blade I lacked, I still needed the blood of the Threefold Traitor. That why it had to be you, you had to complete the path I laid before you. You Dago have betrayed your God-Emperor, betrayed yourself and you have betrayed your new masters. That makes you the Threefold Traitor, the last blood I need for my ritual."

Harbinger slit Dago's skin with a flick of a finger and pressed the third philtre to the gush of blood. It filled the small vial with vitae and Harbinger stopped it with a plug of wax. He held the three philtres up before his eyes and cried, "The bloods of the Thrice-betrayed, the 33rd Psyker son and the Threefold Traitor. The key to the future is in my hands, the victory of Chaos is but a sacrifice away!"

Harbinger stood up but Ozymandias growled, "And my price?"

Harbinger sniffed, "Jubila will enter the crystal maze but he will never leave. Madness and death are all he will find within. The traps we set will complete the kill, then we pick up the Blade from his corpse. Rest assured, his doom is sealed."

With that Harbinger strode away, leaving Dago to die in the dirt. The man clutched his chest but could do nothing to avert death. His soul ached, knowing his damnation was complete. He had already barred himself from the God-Emperor's side and now Chaos would condemn him too. He was heading to the worst hell imaginable, reserved for the worst traitors among traitors. As Rebre stooped over his dying body, her fangs bared and a masochistic glint in her eye, he screamed feebly. His life was measured in scant minutes, but his eternal torment had only just begun.