Horus Rising by Dan Abnett Read Free Book Online Page A

been bagged in sterile jelly, and nanotic serums injected to reform the wrist so it would accept an augmetic implant in a week or so. Loken could still see the scars where Vipus had used his chainsword to amputate his own hand.
    ‘What?’
    ‘Someone to see you,’ Vipus said.
    ‘If it’s another damn remembrancer—’ Loken began.
    Vipus shook his head. ‘It’s not. It’s Captain Torgaddon.’
    Loken lowered his blade and deactivated the practice cage as Vipus drew aside. The target dummies and armature blades went dead around him, and the upper hemisphere of the cage slid into the roof space as the lower hemisphere retracted into the deck beneath the mat. Tarik Torgaddon entered the blade-school chamber, dressed in fatigues and a long coat of silver mail. His features were saturnine, his hair black. He grinned at Vipus as the latter slipped out past him. Torgaddon’s grin was full of perfect white teeth.
    ‘Thanks, Vipus. How’s the hand?’
    ‘Mending, captain. Fit to be rebonded.’
    ‘That’s good,’ said Torgaddon. ‘Wipe your arse with the other one for a while, all right? Carry on.’
    Vipus laughed and disappeared.
    Torgaddon chuckled at his own quip and climbed the short steps to face Loken in the middle of the canvas mat. He paused at a blade rack outside the opened cage, selected a long-handled axe, and drew it out, hacking the air with it as he advanced.
    ‘Hello, Garviel,’ he said. ‘You’ve heard the rumour, I suppose?’
    ‘I’ve heard all sorts of rumours, sir.’
    ‘I mean the one about you. Take a guard.’
    Loken tossed his practice blade onto the deck and quickly drew a tabar from the nearest rack. It was all-steel, blade and handle both, and the cutting edge of the axe head had a pronounced curve. He raised it in a hunting stance and took up position facing Torgaddon.
    Torgaddon feinted, then smote in with two furious chops. Loken deflected Torgaddon’s axe-head with the haft of his tabar, and the blade-school rang with chiming echoes. The smile had not left Torgaddon’s face.
    ‘So, this rumour…’ he continued, circling.
    ‘This rumour,’ Loken nodded. ‘Is it true?’
    ‘No,’ said Torgaddon. Then he grinned impishly. ‘Of course it bloody is! Or maybe it’s not… No, it is.’ He laughed loudly at the mischief.
    ‘That’s funny,’ said Loken.
    ‘Oh, belt up and smile,’ Torgaddon hissed, and scythed in again, striking at Loken with two very nonstandard cross-swings that Loken had trouble dodging. He was forced to spin his body out of the way and land with his feet wide-braced.
    ‘Interesting work,’ Loken said, circling again, his tabar low and loose. ‘Are you, may I ask, just making these moves up?’
    Torgaddon grinned. ‘Taught to me by the Warmaster himself,’ he said, pacing around and allowing the long axe to spin in his fingers. The blade flashed in the glow of the down lighters aimed on the canvas.
    He halted suddenly, and aimed the head of the axe at Loken. ‘Don’t you want this, Garviel? Terra, I put you up for this myself.’
    ‘I’m honoured, sir. I thank you for that.’
    ‘And it was seconded by Ekaddon.’
    Loken raised his eyebrows.
    ‘All right, no it wasn’t. Ekaddon hates your guts, my friend.’
    ‘The feeling is mutual.’
    ‘That’s the boy,’ Torgaddon roared, and lunged at Loken. Loken smashed the hack away, and counter-chopped, forcing Torgaddon to leap back onto the edges of the mat. ‘Ekaddon’s an arse,’ Torgaddon said, ‘and he feels cheated you got there first.’
    ‘I only—’ Loken began.
    Torgaddon raised a finger for silence. ‘You got there first,’ he said quietly, not joking anymore, ‘and you saw the truth of it. Ekaddon can go hang, he’s just smarting. Abaddon seconded you for this.’
    ‘The first captain?’
    Torgaddon nodded. ‘He was impressed. You beat him to the punch. Glory to Tenth. And the vote was decided by the Warmaster.’
    Loken lowered his guard completely. ‘The