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Old Scars – Extract

A Black Library Publication

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Old Scars

George Mann

07.13 hrs

‘Tell me of Karos, Pradeus. I understand you have walked upon its surface once before.’ Daed’s voice echoed around the chapel, deep and booming, like the low rumble of an oncoming storm.

Pradeus thought his own voice seemed thin and inadequate by comparison. He sucked his teeth – a nervous habit he’d developed in childhood and been unable to shake. ‘A long time ago, when the twin suns still burned, bright and bloody red in the sky. It was a lush planet, covered in vast savannahs and soaring Imperial cities. Now it is a dead world, captain. Little can survive its harsh climate. What human population there is ekes out a paltry existence in vast thermal hives, a warren of tunnels and sunken conurbations deep below ground.’

‘Why?’ asked Daed. He placed his gleaming bronze vambrace upon the table beside its twin, flexing his shoulders. A thick, ropey scar described a snake across his back, its head upon his right shoulder, its body curling down across his spine so that the thin tip of its tail rested just above his left hip. The flesh was purple and puckered where it had healed imperfectly, the damaged halves of the wound reforming in an uneasy truce.

Pradeus was glad the captain could not see the expression of awe on his face. The weapon that had inflicted such a grave wound must have been terrible indeed; the weapon’s bearer even more so. ‘Why?’ he echoed.

‘Yes. I want to understand. Why do the humans continue to inhabit such a blighted world?’

Pradeus nodded, although the gesture was redundant; Daed continued to remove his armour, his back to the Chapter serf. ‘The planet is nothing but a shadow of what it was, but once it was glorious. Rich mines seamed with precious metals and ores, spired cities stretching as far as the eye could see, all presided over by the Ecclesiarchy, high in their fortress-monastery. Now the people, I believe, cling to that former greatness, refusing to give up.’

‘I admire their tenacity,’ said Daed, flexing his shoulders. His thick, braided hair hung down between his shoulders. ‘So the surface is utterly inhospitable?’

‘Karos’s suns have grown pale and thin, with only the merest hint of warmth ever shining upon the surface. The entire world is now encased in a wintry glove of ammonia ice, which shrouds the ruins of the old cities. The people have been driven below ground, making what they can of the ancient mining tunnels that riddle the rocky crust beneath the ice.’ Pradeus glanced over his shoulder, looking to the door, where he had sensed movement. He saw nothing.

‘And now the greenskins have arrived,’ said Daed, darkly.

‘Yes, captain, although for what purpose, I do not know.’

‘Murder, pillaging, the sating of their foul appetites… They are not so difficult to understand,’ said Daed.

‘You have fought them before?’ ventured Pradeus.

Daed laughed. ‘I have spilled their stinking blood on a hundred worlds, Pradeus, and will do so on a hundred more.’ He stooped to remove a leg brace and the scar on his back twisted and flushed.

‘And they have spilled yours, captain, lest you forget.’ The newcomer’s voice echoed from the doorway, close to where Pradeus had sensed movement just a few moments before. He turned to see Theseon, the Chief Librarian of the Brazen Minotaurs, standing in the open archway, resplendent in his azure armour. He glanced back at Daed, waiting to see his reaction.

Daed turned towards his battle-brother. ‘And I still bear the scars to prove it,’ he said, levelly.

‘Old scars,’ said Theseon, walking into the room. ‘And yet they still trouble you.’

Daed removed his second leg brace, but kept his eyes fixed firmly on the Librarian. ‘Karos is an Imperial world. The Guard cannot weather the climate, and so the greenskins, impervious to the cold, run riot upon its surface. What would you have me do, Theseon?’

Theseon placed a gauntleted hand upon Daed’s shoulder. ‘Nothing but your duty, captain,’ he said, and Pradeus could sense the statement was loaded with a meaning he could not understand.

Daed nodded. ‘Then we deploy within the hour. We shall liberate Karos from the xenos scum that have infected it.’

Theseon nodded but did not speak. He lowered his hand.

‘Pradeus?’

‘Yes, captain?’ said Pradeus, stepping around the bulk of the Librarian so that his master could see him.

‘My armour is still ingrained with the blood of traitors. See that it is cleaned and prepared for battle.’

Pradeus’s heart sank. Within the hour? ‘Yes, captain,’ he said, trying to keep the apprehension from his voice.

‘And Pradeus?’

Pradeus nodded.

‘I want it to gleam as I fell the foul brutes with my axe. I want them to know the Brazen Minotaurs have arrived.’ He turned and stalked from the room, dressed only in his parchment-coloured loincloth.

Theseon turned to look at Pradeus, his face impassive behind the faceplate of his helm. ‘You’d better get started,’ he said, without a hint of irony.

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A Black Library Publication

First published in Great Britain in 2012 in the Black Library Weekender 2012: Volume 2.
This eBook edition published in 2017 by Black Library, Games Workshop Ltd,
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ISBN: 978-1-78572-716-0

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