Ice Guard(科幻战争)-第39章

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door；　standing　half…open　—　and　behind　that　door；　the　base　of　a　winding　staircase。
He　would　have　to　rely　on　his　enhanced　ear　to　alert　him　to　approaching　patrols　—　and　on　the
Emperor’s　grace；　to　ensure　that　the　guards　at　the　entrance　wouldn’t　turn　and　see　him　and
Wollkenden　while　they　were　exposed。　But　Steele　thought　that　they　could　reach　that　door。　And　from
there…
The　palace　was　an　enormous　building。　There　had　to　be　places　in　which　they　could　hide。　And
maybe　they　could　find　weapons；　and　robes　to　disguise　themselves。　Maybe　they　could　find　an
unguarded　bridge。　Anything　was　possible…　if　they　could　just　reach　that　door。
Steele　crouched　beside　Wollkenden；　told　him　what　he　had　planned；　asked　him　if　he　felt　up　to　it。
Wollkenden　stared　through　him；　and　he　said；　“It　looks　majestic　out　there；　doesn’t　it？　All　that　ice…　It
reminds　me　of　the　victory　celebrations　on　Artemis　Major；　of　the　crystal　statues　they　erected　in
Imperial　Square。”
94
Steele　explained　the　plan　again；　patiently。　Then　he　helped　Wollkenden　up　to　the　doorway　and
waited。
They　crept　out　behind　the　next　two…man　patrol；　Steele　praying　that　neither　of　the　traitors　would
look　over　their　shoulders。　He　could　already　hear　the　next　pair；　tramping　towards　them。　They　had…
his　processors　quickly　worked　out　the　figure…　eleven　seconds　before　they　came　into　view　around
the　grand　staircase。　He　tried　to　pick　up　the　pace；　but　Wollkenden　chose　that　moment　to　apparently
lose　all　strength　in　his　legs。　He　let　out　a　grunt　as　Steele　caught　him；　and　the　colonel　felt　his　heart
freeze；　expecting　the　sound　to　reveal　them。
Five　seconds…　and　the　door；　that　inviting　door；　was　still　an　unattainable　four　metres　away。
Wollkenden’s　chin　sagged　onto　his　chest。　He　was　losing　consciousness；　but　they　had　come　too
far　to　turn　back　now。　Steele　bundled　the　confessor’s　limp　body　into　his　arms；　almost　staggered　by
the　weight。　He　would　have　to　run；　have　to　sacrifice　silence　for　speed。
He　had　made　it　all　of　three　paces　when　Wollkenden　began　to　struggle　violently。　“No！”　he　yelled。
“No；　you　won’t　take　me　through　that　door；　you　won’t　put　me　in　chains　again！”
Steele　tried　to　hush　him；　made　to　put　his　hand　over　the　confessor’s　mouth　again；　but　it　was
already　far；　far　too　late。
Wollkenden　wriggled　out　of　his　grip；　tried　to　stand；　but　fell　to　his　knees；　and　crawled　up　to　an
ice　statue　of　a　leering；　gargoyle…like　figure。　“Help　me；”　he　beseeched　it；　extending　his　clasped　hands
towards　as　it　as　if　in　prayer。　“It　is　your　duty　to　help　me；　for　the　Emperor；　for　the　score　of　worlds　I
liberated　from—”
There　was　more；　much　more。　But　Steele　heard　none　of　it　—　because　Traitor　Guardsmen　were
streaming　in　from　all　directions；　even　through　the　door　that　he　had　hoped　would　be　his　escape　route。
And　even　if　he　had　been　in　any　condition　to　fight　them；　he　could　never　have　won。　Even　if　he　could
have　run；　there　was　nowhere　he　could　have　run　to。
They　were　dragged　along　endless　passageways；　Steele　and　Wollkenden；　by　cultists　and　traitors　—
their　numbers　growing　as　more　of　their　kind　rushed　out　of　their　rooms　or　abandoned　patrols　to　join
the　throng；　until　the　two　prisoners　were　all　but　borne　aloft　on　a　fast…moving　river　of　bodies。
Steele　said　nothing；　bearing　his　fate　stoically；　but　Wollkenden　was　delirious。　He　was　waving　to
the　crowd；　thanking　them；　assuring　them　that　a　parade　was　not　necessary；　that　he　had　only　done
what　any　man　of　his　considerable　talents　would　do。
They　emerged；　at　last；　into　a　large　courtyard；　bordered　by　four　sheer　walls；　overlooked　by
hundreds　of　windows。　Ice　trees　grew　around　its　edges；　reaching　sizes　of　a　hundred　storeys　tall；　their
branches　spreading　across　the　yard　to　intertwine　with　each　other。　Moonlight　streamed　in　through
this　intricate　frozen　web；　and　bathed　the　courtyard　in　a　cool　shade　of　blue。
Overlooked　amid　the　crowd；　one　cultist　watched　all　this；　and　tried　his　best　not　to　rub　shoulders
with　those　around　him。　He　kept　his　hood　pulled　over　his　head；　concealing　his　face；　and　was　careful
not　to　catch　anybody’s　eye。　When　the　crowd　yelled　out　anti…Imperium　slogans；　he　pretended　to　join
in；　although　he　couldn’t　bring　himself　to　give　voice　to　the　words。
A　huge　stone　dais　stood　in　the　centre　of　the　courtyard　—　and　from　this；　there　rose　an　ice　column；
eight…pointed　like　the　Chaos　star；　its　sides　engraved　with　sigils　that　hurt　the　naked　eye　to　look　at
them。　Steele　and　Wollkenden　were　thrust　against　two　of　the　column’s　points；　secured　to　them　with
chains。
That　was　when　Mangellan　appeared；　with　an　imposing　figure　marching　at　his　shoulder。　The　lone
cultist　recognised　the　Chaos　Space　Marine；　and　could　tell　that　he　had　been　in　a　fight　since　last　he
had　seen　him。　His　black　power　armour　was　damaged；　his　face　bloodied。　Still；　the　crowd　parted　as　he
moved　through　it；　even　the　heretics　keen　to　give　this　abomination　a　wide　berth。
Shuffling　at　Mangellan’s　heels　was　his　disgusting；　mutated　little　servant；　his　head　bandaged。　The
lone　cultist　had　heard　that　his　name　was　Furst；　that　he　was　a　man　of　scant　intellect　—　but　favoured
by　Mangellan；　perhaps　for　that　very　reason。　The　rumours　had　been　rife　since　the　attempted　escape　of
95
Steele　and　Wollkenden　that　it　was　Furst　who　had　let　them　go。　It　seemed　that　Mangellan　either　didn’t
believe　those　rumours　or　did　not　care。
As　the　high　priest　mounted　the　dais；　Wollkenden　seemed　to　recognise　him；　to　realise　where　he
was　at　last；　and　he　started　to　yell　out；　to　struggle。　Mangellan　ignored　him；　turning　to　his　audience；
raising　his　hands　for　silence。　It　took　a　moment　for　the　clamour　to　subside；　and　then　Mangellan
assembled　a　squad　of　Traitor　Guardsmen　and　instructed　them　to　patrol　the　courtyard　for　the　rest　of
the　night；　to　keep　a　close　eye　on　the　prisoners。　The　Chaos　Space　Marine　had　taken　up　a　position　at　a
back　corner　of　the　dais；　and　it　looked　like　he　intended　to　stay　put　too。
“Our　guests　will　not　trouble　us　much　longer；”　Mangellan　assured　his　flock。　“Our　plans　remain　as
they　were。　In　four　hours’　time；　we　will　meet　here　to　begin　the　ceremony。　As　the　first　light　of　dawn
touches　the　courtyard；　we　will　deliver　not　one　but　two　noble　souls　to　our　gods。”
The　lone　cultist　had　heard　enough。
The　crowd　was　shouting；　roaring　its　approval　of　Mangellan’s　plan。　The　cultist　slipped　with
surprising　ease　through　the　crush　of　bodies；　heading　for　the　archway　through　which　most　of　them
had　entered。　He　didn’t　want　to　be　the　first　to　leave；　so　he　waited　nervously　for　the　crowd　to　begin　to
disperse；　to　return　to　their　rooms　or　their　duties　in　twos　and　threes；　chattering　about　the　undoubted
spectacle　to　come。
He　retraced　his　steps　through　the　Ice　Palace；　trying　not　to　appear　too　hurried。　As　the　other
cultists　peeled　off　around　him；　streaming　up　staircases；　he　was　left　on　his　own　for　a　moment。　He
ducked　into　a　side　passageway；　narrow；　dark；　uncarpeted；　its　floor　smooth　and　slippery　in　contrast　to
the　well…trodden　paths　elsewhere。
An　iron　door　caught　in　its　ice　frame；　and　it　took　all　the　cultist’s　strength　to　wrench　it　free。　He
stepped　through　onto　a　flight　of　stone　steps；　and　produced　a　lamp…pack　from　beneath　his　robes　to
light　the　way　down　into　a　dank　cave。
This　unnatural　system　extended；　as　far　as　he　had　been　able　to　tell；　beneath　the　whole　of　the　Ice
Palace。　The　dungeons；　he　had　learned；　were　housed　in　a　part　of　it　—　a　part　that；　after　much
searching；　he　had　reluctantly　accepted　could　not　be　reached　except　through　the　palace　itself　—　as
were　various　wine　cellars　and　treasure　troves　housing　the　spoils　of　the　Chaos　army’s　recent　victory。
This　cave；　however；　had　not　found　a　use　yet。　Indeed；　the　cultist　had　seen　no　sign　that　anyone　had
passed　this　way　before　him。
It　was　with　some　relief；　then；　that　he　shucked　off　his　purloined　robes；　and　became　Trooper
Palinev　of　the　Imperial　Guard　again。
He　squeezed　through　a　niche　in　the　rock　wall　into　a　tiny　antechamber。　Lying　there；　where　he
could　not　be　seen　from　the　steps；　was　the　corpse　of　a　defrocked　cultist；　his　throat　slit。　The　man　had
made　the　fatal　error　of　passing　the　wrong　door　at　the　wrong　moment。　And　of　being　about　Palinev’s
size。
A　hole　had　been　knocked　through　the　wall　of　the　small　cave。　Palinev　had　to　lie　on　his　stomach　in
order　to　squee