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Cover

Vaults of Obsidian – Extract

A Black Library Publication

eBook license

Fates and Fortunes

Thomas Parrott

Ilden hooked his fingers into the hatch. The urge to get out of the crawlspace was strong, almost as strong as the smell in there. Still, rushing work like this was a good way to end up a footnote in a mortuary log. He took a moment and, regrettably, a deep breath. Focused. It didn’t feel like there was anyone out there, and his instincts were reliable about things like this. Carefully, he unlatched the panel and lifted it up and out. It didn’t even squeak. Of course the proud scion of House Draik could afford top-of-the-line maintenance.

He slid noiselessly to the floor and closed the hatch behind him with definite relief. ‘O the life of a gentleman thief,’ he murmured.

‘The maintenance line by way of the waste purifier was the least secured entrance. Elegance wasn’t my primary selection criteria.’ The response, which came over the micro-bead in his ear, was toneless. Cascade might not aspire to being a cold machine like a Mechanicus adept would, but her vocoder still stripped her voice of any humanity.

Still, Ilden smiled a little at the dry humour in the words themselves. ‘All will be forgiven if you get me out of here with my skin intact.’

‘Enough chatter. Draik is still tied up in his meeting at the Helmsman, but there’s no guarantee how long that will last.’ Raedrus’ steady voice brooked no argument.

‘You got it, chief. I’m in the bay now. Moving forward with the plan.’ Truthfully, Ilden had been giving his eyes a chance to adapt to the pitch-dark, but it was no use. He slid his photo-visor down over his eyes. The cargo area resolved into a monochrome jumble of casks and crates. It looked like this place had been carefully organised at one point, but was in the process of dissolving into anarchy.

He eased forwards, step by light step. He estimated what the worth of various containers might be as he went. Most were nothing more than foodstuffs. Not that you couldn’t cut a profit with that, nutrition could get pretty scarce on Precipice when the wrong shuttle got shredded on the way through the debris fields. It just wasn’t going to make you rich quickly. Ilden did see a special-issue Munitorum crate, however – either a plasma weapon or hydrogen flasks, to go by the hazard markings. That was more like it.

Then there was a sizeable cask of liquid. That one he couldn’t resist taking the plug out of to get a whiff. The wood-and-peat notes of a gorgeous amasec. With this and the right buyer, he’d be set for the good life for weeks, maybe even months. Ilden put the plug back with a moment’s regret and hurried on. The prize he was after was very specific and far more rare. Not to mention more portable. He glanced around the next corner and smiled. There it was.

A small chest was set on a pedestal at the end of the row. While most of the newer containers were being stacked erratically, this had been placed with purpose. Ilden strode forwards, but froze a moment later. Something was wrong. He took a slow look around but didn’t see anything.

‘Cascade, are you sure you got all the security systems?’

There was a pause. ‘I’m not picking up anything. Why?’

‘There’s something.’ Ilden frowned and flexed his fingers. ‘I can’t…’

Another deep breath. Calm down. Listen to your instincts. Let them show you.

It came in a flash: the path layered with criss-crossed beams. About three inches in front of him. He couldn’t see them, but they were there. He swallowed.

‘Defenser grid.’

‘Are you sure? I’m not getting anything.’ He thought Cascade was irritated under those flat tones.

Raedrus cut in again. ‘Trust him. I hired Ilden for a reason.’

‘He must have it on an entirely different modus then. Let me see if I can find another interface access.’ There was a binharic underlay to her words now. Ilden didn’t need to understand it to know she was irritated.

‘There may not be time,’ Raedrus voxed. ‘It looks like he’s finishing up his meeting.’

‘Perfect,’ Ilden sighed. He refocused on the silent, invisible beams in front of him. He just had to concentrate. Deepen his focus. He could feel the grid laid out in front of him, trace along the shape of it. Just look for a… there. A gap. Someone had piled a few crates in just the wrong way between the emitters and the row. He scrambled up and over the row next him. The synskin and harness he wore didn’t even rustle.

Dropping to all fours, he squeezed through the gap between the crates where he couldn’t feel the defenser beams. He held his breath the whole way, but nothing happened. No lights flashed, no alarms barked. Exhaling shakily he went back up and over the wall of crates and came down right in front of the chest. It had a lock on it, but that was quick work thanks to the auto-clavis from his kit. It clicked open and he saw the treasure within for the first time.

It was a golden amulet, set with a faceted blue gemstone. There were strange symbols etched into it that seemed to swim and change in the non-light of the goggles. He picked it up cautiously. The next moment Ilden staggered and dropped to one knee. A wave of vertigo washed over him and his awareness stretched thin under the onslaught. He had been here before, hadn’t he? He’d held this before, surely? He swallowed hard to keep from vomiting as his stomach roiled.

Through his distress, Raedrus voxed in. ‘He’s leaving the Helmsman. What’s your status, Ilden?’

He shook his head. The feeling was receding. Just a weird moment of deja vu, that’s all, he told himself.

‘I’ve got it. I’m on my way back out.’ He stood and pocketed the amulet. He didn’t want to be here when Janus Draik returned to the Vanguard. It was time to go.

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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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