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Serpents of Ardemis – Extract

A Black Library Publication

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Serpents of Ardemis

by Mike Brooks

‘I never tire of this sight, Chetta,’ said Azariel.

Lady Chettamandey of the Navigator House Brobantis made her way to her husband’s side. She did so slowly, for her hip pained her, and she relied on her trusty cane of blackened tachydon ivory for support.

‘Neither do I,’ she agreed, looking out at the vista spread below them. ‘Ardemis is a beautiful planet.’

They were standing in the main viewing gallery of the Solarox, the flagship of the Novator of House Brobantis. Azariel had held that rank for twenty years, ever since his father had died, and he’d swiftly carved out a reputation as a skilled diplomat and a fearsome political enemy. Chetta had been by his side for decades, and they’d created two children together; although not without difficulty, since Navigator genetics were a tangle of uncertainty and unexpected mutation at the best of times. Now they focused their energies on building a legacy for their children to inherit.

And serving the Imperium. That, of course, went without saying.

‘No withering remark?’ Azariel said jovially. ‘No scorn? If I didn’t know better, I would have said that you were growing soft.’

‘I am not incapable of appreciating beauty when I see it,’ Chetta snapped. ‘My issue is that people too often confuse “beauty” with “something they have worked hard on”. This, on the other hand…’ She gestured towards Ardemis. It was truly a jewel hanging in space: a world primarily of ocean blue, glittering under the benign light of its local star and dotted with the verdant green specks of islands and archipelagos, with the single main continent lurking in the south. Even from orbit, Chetta could see the streaks of cloud trailing from the island mountaintops, and in the shallows she could make out the sweeping, pale shapes of the subsurface reefs created by millions of tiny life forms. And in the midst of one such reef…

‘Is that the Glasswater?’ she asked, pointing at a glinting speck of light.

‘It could well be,’ Azariel agreed, squinting. His human eyes were not so keen as hers, although the third eye in his forehead had lost none of its potency. That, however, would not be used unless he was guiding a starship through the swirling void of the immaterium, and as Novator, the need would have to be dire indeed for him to deign to bring his considerable ability to bear.

The vox chimed gently. ‘High lord, high lady – Governor Zellanin’s factor has given clearance to approach. Your shuttle is ready.’

‘Thank you, Anja,’ Azariel replied to the ship’s captain. He extended his arm to Chetta. ‘Just remember, my dear – the beauty of Ardemis conceals all manner of dangers.’

‘Oh, I know,’ Chetta replied, ignoring his arm and turning away to stump towards the turbo lifts. ‘Us, for starters.’

The skimmer flew low over the waves, its anti-grav motors kicking up a fine spray that was whipped away by the gentle tropical breeze. It was a sleek craft shaped like the local water vessels, with a keen prow and narrow hull. It bore little resemblance to the usual blunt-nosed Imperial vehicles, and in fact more than anything else it reminded Chetta of the aeldari spacecraft she’d seen battle against when serving as Navigator in the Pacificum Fleet. The likeness made her uneasy, although it didn’t seem to have any effect on Azariel. Her husband had always had a keen interest in the aeldari – one which he assured Chetta was purely scholarly, even down to the various artefacts he’d quietly collected.

Chetta didn’t care. The damned things had nearly killed her when they’d gutted the Blade of Macaroth. So far as she was concerned, they and everything they’d ever built or made could burn.

Ahead of her, however, was something far more impressive than any skimmer. Rising out of the waves was the Glasswater, the floating palace of Baron Archetuch Zellanin, governor of the Ardemis System.

It was a titanic structure, covering a considerably greater surface area than the main palace of House Brobantis on Vorlese, although it did not rise nearly so high into the sky. Most of its hull was strengthened crystalflex, allowing passengers to go below decks and view the beauty of the reefs, and the fascinating xenoforms that inhabited them.

‘Look,’ Azariel murmured, touching her arm. Chetta followed the pointing finger of his other hand and saw a grey-and-blue-scaled back breaching the surface of the ocean for a moment before it slipped back into the depths.

‘A great serpent,’ Azariel said. ‘The local superstition is that to see one is an omen of good fortune.’

‘Assuming it doesn’t eat you, I take it,’ Chetta grunted.

Azariel shrugged. ‘The locals consider it the best way to die.’

‘Well, I cannot be having with such foolishness,’ Chetta said shortly. ‘And I shall tell a serpent so, should the need arise.’

The skimmer’s pilot aimed for a small, dark hole in the Glasswater’s flank which, as they approached and scale became truly apparent, yawned wider until it was more than ample to accommodate their small craft. The pilot killed the engines and glided in, then braked with expert nudges of the retro thrusters to bring the vessel to a smooth halt alongside an internal dock, on which stood the welcoming party.

‘High lord, high lady,’ trilled the foremost man, as he made a bow. ‘We are so very honoured by your presence. I am Goodsire Tang, aide to his honour, the baron. Please, come aboard.’

Chetta eyed Tang as Azariel took the step from skimmer to dock in one stride of his long, thin legs. The aide was a slim man in form-fitting crimson livery, with a wispy moustache, and short dark hair that stopped abruptly just below the tops of his ears, leaving the lower sides of his head and the nape of his neck bald. Chetta had seen fighting men before, and from his stance and physique, she would have wagered her favourite shuttle on this man being a bodyguard as well as an aide.

Chetta huffed her way cautiously along the short gangplank that had been set out, for where her husband was at the upper extremes of the human form in terms of height and limb length, her bloodline occupied the opposite end of the spectrum, being unusually short and stout. Such was the lot of the Navigator: the ability to stare into the warp and read it without having the sanity blasted from your mind threw up unintended and unavoidable genetic consequences. At least she didn’t have scales, or feathers, or completely lack human eyes.

‘Mamzel DuVoir is one of our chamberlains, and she will show you to your quarters,’ Tang continued, waving a hand at a dark-skinned young woman with patterns shaved into her short hair, and a collar of similarly patterned black metal around her throat.

‘High lord, high lady,’ DuVoir said, with a bow of her own. She gestured to the sleek, six-wheeled groundcar behind her, which bore Baron Zellanin’s crest. ‘Your quarters are some distance, but we have provided transport, if it pleases you.’

‘It most certainly does,’ Chetta said with some relief, for her hip would not have relished a long walk. ‘My heartfelt thanks, young lady.’

DuVoir flashed her a smile that contained gratitude and, Chetta thought, just a hint of surprise.

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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 Neil Hodgson.

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ISBN: 978-1-78999-241-0

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