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Isha’s Lament – Extract

A Black Library Publication

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Chapter 1

The Way Out

The galaxy was vast beyond mortal comprehension. It was common to visualise it as a great spiral of light, but this was an illusion. The stars were only tiny specks scattered across the endless night. To travel between them required risking a still greater darkness, the maddened hell that was the immaterium. The only light in that twisted nether-realm was the Astronomican, the soul-blaze guided by the Emperor Himself. Yet even the divine beacon had limits. In the far reaches it thinned and faded to nothing.

There, at the very edge of where the shadows reigned unchallenged, sat the Blackstone Fortress. It was older than human civilisation. Whatever hands had built it were no longer around to explain its opaque workings. Such a shadowed existence led, unsurprisingly, to superstition. It had borne many names through the slow creep of years. The Dark Star. Old Unfathomable. The Eater of the Dead. Thousands more across hundreds of languages.

That last name was given for a particular oddity of the ancient station. Its gravity obeyed no known rules. Instead, it seemed almost hungry. It pulled in debris and ships, a train of wreckage and ruin that spiralled in from the stars to be consumed into the lightless hull. There in the belly of the beast everything was slowly absorbed. Perhaps that was how it repaired itself. Perhaps it was how it learned. Perhaps it was growing. There was no one to ask.

This particular ship had been absorbed thousands of years ago. It was already half gone, great portions of it converted to the abstract shapes of the fortress. There was no telling what it had seen in that time. It might have known the passage of a thousand species, or been left all that time in darkness and dust. Few would risk coming to such a place, no matter the rewards. Nonetheless there are always the daring and the desperate who walk the twilight lines.

A group of intrepid explorers had stumbled across the derelict. The tread of heavy boots echoed through the inner space of the ship. They worked their way across the outer shell. Then a deep voice called, ‘There’s a rent in the hull over here! I think we can use it to get inside.’

Brakus Andradus dropped to the deck of the ship, kicking up a cloud of dust with the impact. He fell to one knee as he landed and swept the area with the stablight mounted on his rifle. He was a lean, dark-skinned man with a shaved pate and stubbled cheeks. The right side of his face was scarred with old acid burns, narrowly missing his eye. His right arm had not been so lucky: the hand was clearly augmetic where it extended from his sleeve. He was garbed in blacked flak armour that had the weathered look of long use, a bandolier of sizable shells around his torso.

The stablight’s beam reflected off towers marked with crystalline surfaces. This place hadn’t been built by humans, that much was immediately clear. The flow of the lines was too organic. It was as if everything had been poured, or perhaps grown. Then the beam caught a humanoid shape slouched against a wall and Brakus froze. The warning died in his throat, however, as he took in what he was seeing. Whatever it was had been dead for a long time. It was withered away into unrecognisability.

The hunter took a deep breath and finished his sweep. Once he was satisfied he called up, ‘It looks clear in here.’

A woman’s voice called back. ‘All right, step aside. I’ll drop a rope down.’

Brakus obliged and moved aside, though he stayed alert. You never knew what the fortress might try on you next. Assume you were safe, even for a moment, and it could be your last mistake. In all honesty, he loved it. There was no doubting he was alive while he struggled against the dangers of this forbidding place.

The rope tumbled down from above. Before it could reach the ground, a dark shape ignored it entirely and plunged down to land with a heavy crunch. Brakus took an extra step back against his will. Assuming he had made the mistake of feeling secure, the sight of his ‘ally’ would have cured him of that in a heartbeat. The thing, which went by the designation Exactius-ζ94, stood easily a head taller than him, balanced on gaunt mechanical legs. The arms were also augmetic, inhumanly long and slender. Most of it was gunmetal grey, though flecks of red and black paint still clung to its torso and head. The head was a dome mounted with a dozen arcane sensory devices. The only concession to humanity was the great ventilator tube that connected its head to its chest, the steady rasp of its automated breathing as reliable as clockwork. It strode into the darkness without acknowledging him, and he released a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding.

A moment later the other two members of the expedition came roping down from above. The first was a woman with light hair and eyes, dressed in workman’s coveralls. She wore a heavy-duty backpack and was festooned with both weapons and jewellery of a dozen types. The last was a man dressed in finery befitting a member of the Imperial nobility. An ornate rapier was sheathed at one hip, and a pistol of curious make slung rakishly at the other. His black hair and moustache were immaculate as always, even in this forbidding place.

‘Danira, Captain Draik,’ Brakus greeted them each in turn. ‘Allow me to welcome you to…’ He swept his gaze over the derelict. ‘A ruined ship full of dead people.’

Danira clapped him on the arm as she slipped past him to survey the area. A light was clipped to her shoulder. ‘Don’t sound so down, Brakus. Dead people don’t argue when you take their belongings. It’s about time we got lucky on this trip.’

The rogue trader Janus Draik was looking around as well, his hand resting on the hilt of his rapier with seeming casual calm. ‘This place is old. You can feel it. Who knows what secrets it might hold?’

Brakus gave him a wry smile. ‘Not, I think, the key to the transit system. It’s not that old.’

Draik returned the smile. ‘No, you’re very likely right. But perhaps enough to fund the next expedition. And who knows what that one will find? We must always be thinking of the future, Andradus.’

They spread out through the ship, searching for easily portable items. Brakus found an old chalice in a far corner, rolled there perhaps in whatever cataclysm had killed this ship. It was dusty and the inside was marked with dark stains, but a little polish and it would pull a nice haul of tokens at the market. More if he could identify it and find the right buyer, but enough either way to make it worth bringing back.

A rough series of coughs from nearby interrupted his thoughts. He set off in that direction, calling, ‘All right over there?’

Danira was still hacking a bit, waving a hand to clear the cloud of dust surrounding her. ‘I’m fine,’ she managed to rasp out. At her feet were scattered bits from one of the bodies.

Brakus grimaced. ‘Tell me you didn’t mess with one of the corpses.’

The woman grinned as she got her coughs under control. ‘Gotta admit, I didn’t expect it to crumble like that the second I touched it.’ She held up a jewel-studded bracer. ‘Worth it.’

Brakus shook his head. ‘Debatable.’ He saw Draik standing nearby, tracing a hand along the wall. The rogue trader’s face lacked its usual aplomb. He looked shaken, truth be told. ‘Are you well, Captain Draik?’

The other man shook his head as if coming out of a dream. His expression smoothed and he inclined his head graciously. ‘Of course, Andradus. There’s merely something about this ship. It reminds me of…’ He looked around as his words trailed off. His hand was gripping the hilt of his rapier now, white-knuckled, the only sign of any distress. ‘We should not linger here.’

‘As you say.’ Brakus didn’t mind accommodating him. Truthfully, this place didn’t hold his interest. Old ruins did not fascinate him, and treasures were only useful in what they could buy. ‘Exactius! Danira! It’s time to go.’

The attenuated form of the cyborg loomed up out of the darkness. Its voice was a cold whisper. ‘Null hazards detected.’

Danira chimed in. ‘Yeah, why are we in a rush? There are whole levels we haven’t explored yet.’

‘Captain Draik suggests that we depart. I’m inclined to listen to him,’ Brakus said.

Danira hesitated but nodded. ‘Fair enough. He’s survived more trips in than the rest of us put together. Gotta be a reason for that.’

The cyborg offered no argument. ‘Additional egress located. Transport available.’ It turned and stalked off, on the apparent assumption they would follow.

Brakus shrugged to the others. ‘I guess it has a way out. Let’s go.’

They followed in the wake of the machine-thing into the dark recesses of the derelict. Sure enough, there was another rent in the hull there. Here it melded with the blackstone substrate of the fortress itself, opening out into a platform. At the far end a maglev transport was visible.

Brakus paused as he neared the beginning of the walkway. Something felt off. ‘Anyone else feel that?’

Danira and Janus were both already through the opening and looked back with curiosity. Exactius lingered nearby and slowly tilted its head. ‘Vibration,’ came that dead hiss before it walked off towards the transport.

It was right, Brakus realised. There was a faint tremor travelling through the substance of the ship, as if some ancient system had come to life with their passing. He glanced the way they had come and could almost convince himself he saw the glitter of lights back there. He shook his head and followed the others to the transport.

It was cramped in the maglev chamber once they’d all got in. Danira was eyeing the controls, with their bizarre array of symbols to select from.

‘Time to head back to the aperture, yeah? No reason to push our luck. I’ve got enough to justify this expedition.’

‘Time to be gone,’ agreed Brakus. There was definitely something in the air now. A tension that he’d not felt before. He didn’t care to stay and find out what it meant.

Danira punched in the code that would, hopefully, return them to their entry point. The transport silently blurred into motion. Then she turned her attention to Brakus with a sly grin. ‘You know, sooner or later you’re gonna have to tell me the story of that rifle of yours. What is that charming name you gave it, again?’

Brakus glanced to the weapon in question. It had begun life as a sniper rifle like he might have found in any of a million military forces throughout the galaxy. At some point it had obviously been heavily customised, rebuilt to use the autocannon shells he wore on his bandolier.

‘Memoriam. It’s for carnifexes,’ he said quietly.

‘For the killing thereof, I take it?’ she chuckled. ‘Given your penchant for dangerous game, I can only imagine a carnifex to be a formidable thing indeed.’

‘Be glad if you never find out,’ was all Brakus said in response. Danira appeared willing to let it go at that.

Everyone jumped a little when the cyborg spoke up. ‘Unsanctioned modifications to standard template. Forbidden.’ It lingered on the last word, the closest Brakus had come to hearing emotion from it.

‘Needs must when the Great Devourer comes,’ Brakus replied. He eyed the enigmatic killer. It seemed to be an agent of the Machine-God. At this range he was certain it could kill him before he could react. ‘Is it going to be a problem?’

The dome head turned down to him for several uncomfortable seconds of scrutiny. ‘Negative,’ it said at last and returned to looking straight ahead. Whatever Exactius was, it had not come to the fortress to catch hereteks. That would have been a lifelong task anyway.

There was no time for further discussion, as the maglev pod slid to a halt and the doorway cycled open into a new chamber. The group filed out of the transport, and promptly spotted one major problem.

‘This isn’t the aperture,’ said Danira.

‘No. It is not,’ said Janus grimly. He drew his rapier and pistol with practised smoothness, a crackling blue field springing to life around the sword’s blade.

That was when the first of the monsters came howling in out of the darkness with weapons brandished.

Just as swiftly, Janus shot it in the throat with his pistol. The creature toppled to the ground, frothing as the toxin of the splinter went to work. More charged in to take its place.

This part of the fortress was dark as a moonless night. The only glimpses that Brakus got of the chamber they were in came by flashes of weapons fire and arcing electricity. Scattered impressions of walls that sloped upwards on all sides, as though they were in the centre of some great basin. And from all directions, the contorted, bestial faces of the monsters swarming in.

Brakus unlimbered his rifle with a soldier’s familiarity. There was no need for precise targeting; his old instructors might have called this a ‘mass purging opportunity.’ The first shot boomed out like a thunderclap and kicked his shoulder like a grox. Luckily, the bionic replacement didn’t care. The bullet tore a fist-sized hole through the chest of one of the creatures and punched on through several more behind them with equal lethality. He cleared the case with a smooth working of the bolt and lined up another shot.

The enemy was what the Imperium called ‘beastmen.’ An accursed breed at the best of times, this group took things to new depths. Their already savage mien was further befouled with vile trophies and blasphemous sigils, dedications to whatever dark gods they swore by. They were armed piecemeal with crude weapons, makeshift blades and old stubbers. At the same moment that Brakus took the second shot, counter-fire raked his position. One of the enemy stub shots hit home, slamming into his side with a jackhammer impact. He staggered, coughing, and prayed that the flak protection had held.

A goat-faced brute lunged at him with a rusty sabre and he was forced to continue his off-balance stumbling to avoid the strike. It only pushed harder at the sight of his weakness. At last his feet got entangled and he toppled. The abhuman reared over him, stabbing furiously. He rolled in desperation. One strike cut his thigh, a blazing line of pain. Another turned from the plates of his armour.

Then the beast froze. A thin, sizzling blade protruded through its stomach, then sliced effortlessly through its midsection, spilling its guts in a stomach-turning flood.

It was Draik. The rogue trader offered Brakus a quick hand up, shouting, ‘On your feet, master huntsman! There is dirty work to be done!’ Then Draik whirled to meet another pair of foes rushing towards them. With dazzling blade work he scattered hissing bits of torn flesh in all directions. An explosion roared in the background, sending half a dozen enemies tumbling at a stroke. One of Danira’s curios brought to bear, no doubt.

Brakus slung the rifle across his back again. He was no expert swordsman, but he had survived the close press of battle before. He drew the razor-edged machete from the sheath at his side and his autopistol as well. It would have been a lie to say this did not thrill him. These were the moments of truly living. There was no room for doubt or fear. Only kill or be killed.

Brakus fired a controlled burst into the nearest of the creatures. It spun away in a spray of blood. In the distance he caught a glimpse of Exactius. The cyborg was a blur, moving among the mutants like death incarnate. It wielded a pronged blade and with every solid strike, lightning boiled out to ravage nearby foes. Then another one was charging Brakus with a spear held low, aimed to gut him. He dodged to the side and swung his blade in an arc. It lodged in the creature’s face with a wet thunk. He kicked it in the chest to knock it loose from his weapon and it toppled backwards, gurgling. The beastman hit the ground with a splash.

‘Wait…’ Brakus looked down. Dark liquid was pooling around the soles of his boots. ‘What in the name of the Throne?’ It was clearly rising. Even as he watched it lapped over the toe of his boots, now at the level of his ankle.

Danira was nearby. One of the abhumans rushed her and she pointed a ring on her hand at it. In the blink of an eye a stream of flame roared from the jewellery and engulfed her foe. It stumbled off screaming and thrashing. She noticed his scrutiny and grinned at him. ‘Jokaero make! Nothing like it!’

‘I think we have a problem!’ Brakus shouted back, gesturing down urgently. She followed the gesture and her eyes widened, but there was no time for further discussion as another wave of the bestial cultists swarmed over them. A particularly sizeable brute with bull horns and a great axe snarled as it stormed towards Brakus. He fired a burst into it, the impacts gouging bloody holes in the creature’s hide, but it didn’t seem to notice in its battle fury.

It came on with a sweep of its axe. Brakus hurried to interpose his machete in an attempt to save himself. The impact was hard, and sent him stumbling and sloshing. The next attack was right behind it, and then another. Each ringing hit gouged a new divot from Brakus’ weapon. There was no way to get in and counter-attack. The creature had him outreached by a lethal margin. On the fourth hit the machete’s blade snapped, and the monster followed up immediately with a powerful kick, which caught Brakus in the chest and sent him over onto his back.

For a moment his head went under the dark fluid. He came up gasping and cursing. The monster was right over him, axe held high. He threw the broken machete at its snouted face and it jerked away. Only a fleeting opportunity, but he didn’t waste it. He still had the autopistol, by the grace of the Emperor. He pointed it right at the beast’s knee and held the trigger down. A spray of bullets chewed the joint apart in grisly fashion. The abhuman toppled with a scream of rage and pain. He rolled out of the way of its fall.

Brakus didn’t give it a chance to recover. He lunged at it and drew a knife from his boot. In the blink of an eye he was on its back and stabbing furiously. The creature beat at him with the haft of the axe and its elbow, concussive strikes that rattled his teeth and set stars flashing in his eyes. He didn’t let up until the knife caught and was yanked from his grip. With a surge of furious strength the creature slung him to the side and hurled him away, rolling, kicking up waves as he went.

He was under again, his head hitting the floor. The world blurred. The old nightmares rose. The tiny gnashing mouths boiling through the trenches. Men screaming and falling, lost in the swarms as flesh was flensed from their bones.

Brakus scrambled to his feet howling in a mixture of fear and defiance. The pistol was gone. His knife and machete, gone. His rifle, soaked. He’d go down clawing and biting if that was how it went. Yet the bull-monster was still, face down in the liquid. He looked to and fro to spot his next foe, but the nearest were running into the darkness. A hand caught his sleeve and he whirled, fist raised.

He was staring into the alloy chest of Exactius.

‘Departing immediately,’ rasped the cyborg. ‘Transport located. Ambient conditions deteriorating.’ It pointed its crackling goad off into the distance.

The other two were already wading in that direction, through fluid up around their thighs. Danira shouted, ‘Come on, you two!’

Whatever the dark substance was, it luckily wasn’t terribly thick. Maybe it was just water, he tried to tell himself. They were able to splash on through it. Brakus was practically swimming by the time they reached the transport pod. The maglev was set just a bit lower than the floor, perhaps out of cosmic spite. Exactius vanished under the surface, too heavy to float. The controls weren’t visible, either.

‘Emperor’s bones,’ cursed Brakus. Then he dove under. Some of the fluid got into his mouth, despite his best efforts. It was brackish and warm, more reminiscent of blood than water. He tried not to think about it as he flailed around, searching for the control console. There was no hope of spotting specific controls, but he had no idea what to put in anyway. So he just pounded at it until he felt the vibration of the pod setting off.

He surfaced with a gasp and spat out as much as he could. There was only room for their three heads, and they stared at each other with hollow eyes. The dark liquid kept rising even as the pod sped along. It topped his chin. Brakus gave a bitter laugh. ‘This place hates us.’ Then it was over his mouth and up over his nose. He pressed up against the top, eking in what last desperate breaths he could.

That was when a metal hand grabbed his leg and yanked him down.

He was immediately lost in the darkness. Caught off guard, he was choking and thrashing immediately. He kicked violently at that cruel claw, trying to dislodge it. It was useless; the grip was as unrelenting as iron. It just kept yanking him further down. Another one joined it and shoved him down ever further. He lashed out with blind fists, the flesh one connecting with unfeeling machine carapace. Pain spiked through his hand on impact.

Then he broke through the bottom of the liquid and dropped, choking, to the floor.

He lay there sputtering and wheezing, coughing up dribbles of black liquid. Exactius’ metal talon-feet were in front of him. A moment later Danira erupted from the black layer above and hit the ground next to him, with Janus following right behind.

The rogue trader lay there wheezing for a time, before opining, ‘What?’

The ceiling of dark liquid, hovering there impossibly, was rising. They could see Exactius’ backward-facing knees now.

‘It’s draining up,’ Brakus managed. His hand was throbbing. He’d probably broken something in it. He started laughing.

The others stared at him like he was insane. He did his best to force the laughter down, but it just kept bubbling up. Eventually Danira couldn’t help but join him. Even Janus broke a lopsided smile. Within a few minutes they were able to stand up. The cyborg stood there like a statue the whole time, staring into the distance as the fluid slowly unveiled it.

Once it was uncovered completely, Brakus looked up into one sensor. ‘Thanks for saving us.’

The dome head slanted down towards him. ‘Allowances must be made for organic fragility.’

He gave another laugh, weary this time. ‘I’ll take that as a joke.’

The hatch spiralled open, revealing the aperture and their shuttles waiting beyond.

‘Oh, praise the Emperor.’

‘The Emperor protects,’ agreed Janus with a wry smile as they stepped out. Each of the human members of the team was a mess. Bleeding, battered, bruised and bedraggled. They staggered towards the ships and paused in front of the ramps. Exactius didn’t even slow down. It just continued to its own shuttle and disappeared inside, the hatch closing behind it.

‘Those beastmen,’ Janus said. His eyes were serious now. ‘There are more of them all the time. And worse. The Archenemy is growing stronger on the fortress.’

‘Plenty of foes to test our mettle against,’ offered Brakus.

Danira shook her head. ‘You’re both insane. I’m not here to fight a war. I have buyers with specific taste in weaponry, and I am here to–’ she coughed suddenly, a rattling sound that ended in a wheeze, and tapped herself on the chest. ‘I’m here to supply them.’

Brakus snorted. ‘Speaking of, I may need to peruse your wares. I lost everything but my rifle in there.’

Danira gave a mocking bow. ‘At your service, master hunts-man.’

Janus seemed lost in thought. He shook it off for the time being to look to Brakus. ‘Come, sir. I brought you hence and I shall see you returned to Precipice as promised.’

Brakus nodded. ‘Thank you, captain.’ He gave Danira a smile. ‘I’ll see you on Precipice.’

She nodded and walked off with a hand raised in farewell, another rough cough shaking her as she went.

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A Black Library Publication

First published in Great Britain in 2019.
This eBook edition published in 2019 by Black Library, Games Workshop Ltd, Willow Road, Nottingham, NG7 2WS, UK.

Produced by Games Workshop in Nottingham.
Cover illustration by Paul Dainton.

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