My hands and my mind were numb.
That was not good.
Processional Two-Twelve was a hibernation tomb at the west end of the great Imperial Avenue. It housed twelve thousand, one hundred and forty-two members of the Hubris ruling elite.
We approached the great monument, crunching up the black, frost-coated steps.
I halted. Where are the tomb's custodians?'
'Making their rounds,' I was told.
I glanced at Vibben and shook my head. She slid her hand into her fur-edged robes.
'Knowing we approach?' I urged, addressing the custodian again. 'Knowing we expect to meet them?'
'I will check,' said the custodian, the one who had circulated the slate. He pushed on up the steps, the phosphor light on his pole bobbing.
The other two seemed ill at ease.
I beckoned to Vibben, so she would follow me up after the leader.
We found him on a lower terrace, gazing at the strewn bodies of four custodians, their light poles fizzling out around them.
'H-how?' he stammered.
'Stay back/ Vibben told him and drew her weapon. Its tiny amber Armed rune glowed in the darkness.
I took out my blade, igniting it. It hummed.
The south entry of the tombs was open. Shafts of golden light shone out. All my fears were rapidly being confirmed.
We entered, Vibben sweeping the place from side to side with her handgun. The hall was narrow and high, lit by chemical glow-globes. Intruding frost was beginning to mark the polished basalt walls.
A few metres inside, another custodian lay dead in a stiffening mirror of blood. We stepped over him. To each side, hallways opened up, admitting us to the hibernation stacks. In every direction, rows and rows of ice-berths ranged down the smoothed basalt chambers.
It was like walking into the Imperium's grandest morgue.
Vibben swept soundlessly to the right and I went left.
I admit I was excited by now, eager to close and conclude a business that had lasted six years. Eyclone had evaded me for six whole years! I studied his methods every day and dreamed of him every night.
Now I could smell him.
I raised my visor.
Water was pattering from the roof. Thaw water. It was growing warmer in here. In their ice-berths, some of the dim figures were stirring.
Too early! Far too early!
Eyclone's first man came at me from the west as I crossed a trunk-junction corridor. I spun, the power sword in my hand, and cut through his neck before his ice-axe could land.
The second came from the south, the third from the east. And then more. More.
A blur.
As I fought, I heard furious shooting from the vaults away to my right. Vibben was in trouble.