The Eisenhorn TrilogyXenos(科幻战争)-第1部分

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《The　Eisenhorn　Trilogy：Xenos（科幻战争）》
作者：　＇英＇Dan　Abnett【完结】




Synopsis　（英文书籍文案）　

Malleus　takes　place　nearly　100　years　after　the　first　book　Xenos。　The　novel　is　plotted　and　executed　in　the　fashion　of　Xenos　and　works　just　as　well。　The　plot　of　Malleus　deals　more　with　the　machinations　of　rival　inquisitors　and　shows　the　reader　why　the　inquisition　is　so　feared。

After　a　century　of　hard　fighting；　the　Ophidian　sub…sector　has　been　reclaimed　for　the　God…Emperor。　A　mighty　triumph　is　held　on　Thracian　Primaris　to　celebrate　the　victory；　but　the　day　is　blighted　by　a　tragedy　so　vast　in　scale　it　shocks　even　the　battle…weary　Imperium。　Inquisitor　Gregor　Eisenhorn　investigates　the　source　of　the　atrocity；　even　though　his　own　reputation　has　become　blighted　by　reports　of　his　unorthodox　methods。　As　the　investigation　unfolds；　Eisenhorn　discovers　links　with　a　case　from　a　century　before　and　heads　for　a　showdown　with　the　daemonhost　Cherubael　and　his　unknown　master。。。







BY　ORDER　OF　HIS　MOST　HOLY　MAJESTY　THE　GOD〦MPEROR　OF　TERRA
SEQUESTERED　INQUISITORIAL　DOSSIERS　AUTHORISED　PERSONS　ONLY
CASE　FILE　442：41F：JL3：Kbu
Please　enter　your　authority　code
Validating…
Thank　you；　Inquisitor。　You　may　proceed。
CLASSIFICATION：　Primary　Level　Intelligence
CLEARANCE：　Obsidian
ENCRYPTION：　Cryptox　v　2。6
DATE：　337。M41
AUTHOR：　Inquisitor　Javes　Thysser；　Ordo　Xenos
SUBJECT：　A　matter　for　your　urgent　consideration
RECIPIENT：　Lord　Inquisitor　Phlebas　Alessandro　Rorken；　Inquisition　High　Council　Officio；　Scarus　Sector；　Scarus　Major

Salutations；　lord！
In　the　name　of　the　God…Emperor；　hallowed　he　his　eternal　vigil；　and　by　the　High　Lords　of　Terra；　I　commend　myself；　your　Highness；
and　hope　I　may　speak　plainly；　in　confidence；　of　a　delicate　matter。
To　begin　generally；　my　work　on　Vogel　Passionata　is　now　complete　and　my　noble　duty　to　the　Great　Inquisition　of　Mankind　discharged
successfully。　My　full；　documented　report　will　follow　in　a　few　days；　once　my　savants　have　finished　compiling　it；　and　I　trust　that　your
Highness　will　find　it　satisfactory　reading。　To　summarise；　for　the　purpose　of　this　brief　missive；　I　am　proud　to　declare　that　the　malign
influence　of　the　so…called　wyrd…kin　has　been　expunged　from　the　hive　cities　of　Vogel　Passionata；　and　the　inner　circle　of　that　obscene
xenophile　order　broken　forever　and　put　to　cleansing　flame。　Their　self…proclaimed　messiah；　Gaethon　Richter；　is　himself　dead　by　my
hand。
A　matter；　however；　has　arisen　from　this。　I　am　troubled　by　it；　and　unsure　as　to　the　best　course　of　action。　For　this　reason　I　am　writing　to
you；　Highness；　in　the　hope　of　receiving　guidance。
Richter　did　not　go　without　a　fight；　as　you　might　expect。　In　the　final；　bloody　throes　of　the　battle；　as　my　combined　forces　stormed　his
fastness　beneath　the　main　hive；　he　called　forth　to　oppose　us　a　being　of　dreadful　power。　It　slaughtered　nineteen　of　the　Imperial
Guardsmen　assigned　to　my　purge…team；　as　well　as　Inquisitor　Bluchas；　Interrogators　Faruline　and　Seetmol；　and　Captain　Ellen　Ossel；
my　pilot。　It　would　have　slain　me　too；　but　for　the　strangest　mischance。
The　being　was　an　unholy　thing；　made　like　a　man；　but　gleaming　with　an　inner　light。　Its　voice　was　soft；　its　touch　was　fire。　I　believe　it
was　a　daemonhost　of　unfathomable　power；　with　the　most　vile　propensity　for　spite　and　cruelty。　My　report　will　recount　in　detail　the
particular　abominations　this　being　subjected　Seetmol　and　Ossel　to　before　it　destroyed　them。　I　will　spare　you　those　dreadful　facts　here。
Having　disposed　of　Bluchas；　it　cornered　me　on　an　upper　landing　in　the　fastness　as　I　was　penetrating　the　inner　sanctum　of　the　wyrd…kin
''messiah''。　My　weapons　did　no　harm　to　it；　and　it　laughed　gleefully　as　it　threw　me　backwards　down　the　length　of　the　staircase　with　a
casual　flick　of　its　wrist。
Dazed；　I　looked　up　as　it　descended　towards　me；　unable　to　conceive　of　a　defence　against　it。　I　believe　I　may　have　clawed　around　to　find
my　fallen　weapon。
That　gesture　caused　it　to　speak。　I　report　the　words　exactly。　It　said；　'Don't　worry　now；　Gregor。　You　are　far　too　valuable　to　waste。
Indulge　me；　just　a　little　scar　to　make　it　look　authentic！
Its　talons　tore　across　my　chest　and　throat；　and　ripped　away　my　rebreather　mask。　The　wounds　will　heal；　they　tell　me；　but　they　were
deep　and　excruciating。　The　being　then　paused；　as　it　saw　my　face　properly　for　the　first　time；　free　from　the　mask　set。　Dreadful　dark
anger　flared　in　its　eyes。　It　said　…　forgive　me；　Highness；　but　this　is　the　fact　of　it　…　it　said；　'You　are　not　Eisenhorn！　I　have　been　tricked！'
I　believe　that　it　would　have　killed　me　there　and　then；　but　for　the　frontal　assault　of　the　Adeptus　Astartes　Aurora　chapter；　which　tore　into
the　hall　at　that　precise　moment。　In　the　mayhem；　the　being　fled；　though　I　cannot　even　now　say　how。　Whatever　the　terrifying　strength　of
the　Astartes；　this　thing　was　a　hundredfold　more　powerful。
Later；　on　his　knees；　with　my　weapon　to　his　head；　seconds　before　his　execution；　Gaethon　Richter　begged　for　''Cherubael''　to　return。　He
wailed　he　could　not　understand　why　''Cherubael''　had　abandoned　him。　I　believe　he　was　speaking　of　the　daemonhost。
I　trust　your　Highness　can　see　my　trouble。　Mistaking　me　for　another　of　our　kind　…　and　an　unimpeachably　worthy　example；　I　might　add　…
this　thing　spared　my　life。　It　seemed　to　me；　indeed；　that　it　did　so　with　pre…arranged　connivance。
Inquisitor　Gregor　Eisenhorn　is　highly　regarded；　numerously　honoured　and　justly　praised　as　an　example　of　all　that　is　good；　strong　and
dogmatic　about　our　brotherhood。　However；　since　this　circumstance；　I　have　begun　to　wonder；　to　fear　that—
I　feel　I　cannot　say　what　I　wonder　or　fear。　But　I　thought　you　should　know　of　this；　and　know　it　soon。　It　is　my　belief　that　the　Ordo　Malleus
should　be　informed；　if　only　as　a　precaution。
I　hope　and　pray　this　matter　will　be　found　empty　of　truth　and　consequence。　But；　as　you　taught　me；　sir；　it　is　always　better　to　be　sure。
Sealed　as　my　true　word　by　this；　my　hand；　this　2　76th　day　of　the　year　337。M41。
The　Emperor　Protects！
Your　servant；
＇Message　ends。＇

ONE
I　DISCOVER　I　AM　DEAD。
UNDER　DARK　FIRE；　THE　LAIR　OF　SADIA。
TANTALID；　UNWELCOME。
AS　I　GROW　older；　may　the　Emperor　protect　me；　I　find　I　measure　my　history　in　terms　of　milestones；　those　occurrences　of　such　intense
moment　they　will　never　pass　from　one's　memory：　my　induction　into　the　blessed　ordos　of　the　Inquisition；　my　first　day　as　a　neophyte
assigned　to　the　great　Hapshant；　my　first　successful　prosecution；　the　heretic　Lemete　Syre；　my　elevation　to　full　inquisitorial　rank　at　the
age　of　twenty…four　standard　years；　the　long…drawn　out　Nassar　case；　the　affair　of　the　Necroteuch；　the　P'glao　Conspiracy。
Milestones；　all　of　them。　Marked　indelibly　onto　the　engrams　of　my　memory。　And；　alongside　them；　I　remember　the　Darknight　that　came
at　the　end　of　the　month　of　Umbris；　Imperial　year　338。M41；　with　particular　clarity。　For　that　bloody　end　was　the　start　of　it。　The　great
milestone　of　my　life。
I　was　on　Lethe　Eleven　under　instruction　from　the　Ordo　Xenos；　deep　in　work；　with　the　accursed　xenophile　Beldame　Sadia　almost　in　my
grasp。　Ten　weeks　to　find　her；　ten　hours　to　close　the　trap。　I　had　been　without　sleep　for　three　days；　without　food　and　water　for　two。
Psychic　phantoms　triggered　by　the　Darknight　eclipse　were　roiling　my　mind。　I　was　dying　of　binary　poison。　Then　Tantalid　turned　up。
To　appraise　you；　Lethe　Eleven　is　a　densely　populated　world　at　the　leading　edge　of　the　Helican　subsector；　its　chief　industries　being
metalwork　and　shield　technologies。　At　the　end　of　every　Umbris；　Lethe's　largest　moon　matches；　by　some　cosmological　coincidence；　the
path；　orbit　and　comparative　size　of　the　local　star；　and　the　world　is　plunged　into　eclipse　for　a　two　week　period　known　as　the　Darknight。
The　effect　is　quite　striking。　For　the　space　of　fourteen　days；　the　sky　goes　a　cold；　dark　red；　the　hue　of　dried　blood；　and　the　moon；　Kux；
dominates　the　heavens；　a　peerlessly　black　orb　surrounded　by　a　crackling　corona　of　writhing　amber　flame。　This　event　has　become　…
students　of　Imperial　ritual　will　be　unsurprised　to　learn　…　the　key　seasonal　holiday　for　all　Letheans。　Fires　of　all　shape；　size　and　manner
are　lit　as　Darknight　begins；　and　the　population　stands　vigil　to　ensure　that　none　go　out　until　the　eclipse　ends。　Industry　is　suspended。
Leave　is　granted。　Riotous　carnivals　and　firelit　parades　spill　through　the　cities。　Licentiousness　and　law…breaking　are　rife。
Above　it　all；　the　dark　fire　of　the　eclipsed　sun　haloes　the　black　moon。　There　is　even　a　tradition　of　fortune…casting　grown　up　around　the
interpretation　of　the　corona's　form。
I　had　hoped　to　catch　the　Beldame　before　Darknight　began；　but　she　was　one　step　ahead　of　me。　Her　chief　poisoner；　Pye；　who　had
learned　his　skills　in　early　life　as　a　prisoner　of　the　renegade　dark　eldar；　so　the　story　went；　managed　to　plant　a　toxin　in　my　drinking　water
that　would　remain　inert　until　I　ingested　the　second　component　of　its　binary　action。
I　was　a　dead　man。　The　Beldame　had　killed　me。
My　savant；　Aemos；　accidentally　discovered　the　toxin　in　my　body；　and　was　able　to　prevent　me　from　eating　or　drinking　anything
further。　But　graceless　death　beckoned　me　inexorably。　My　only　chance　of　survival　was　to　capture　the　Beldame　and　her　vassal　Pye　and
extract　the　solution　to　my　doom　from　them。
Out　in　the　dark　streets　of　the　city；　my　followers　did　their　work。　I　had　eighty　loyal　servants　scouring　the　streets。　In　my　rooms　at　the
Hippodrome；　I　waited；　parched；　unsteady；　distant。
Ravenor　came　up　trumps。　Ravenor；　of　course。　With　his　promise；　it　wouldn't　be　long　before　he　left　the　rank　of　interrogator　behind　and
became　a　full　inquisitor　in　his　own　right。
He　found　Beldame　Sadia's　lair　in　the　catacombs　beneath　the　derelict　church　of　Saint　Kiodrus。　I　hurried　to　respond　to　his　call。
'You　should　stay　here；'　Bequin　told　me；　but　I　shook　her　off。
'I　have　to　do　this；　Alizebeth。'
Alizebeth　Bequin　was　by　that　time　one　hundred　and　twenty…five　years　old。　She　was　still　as　beautiful　and　as　active　as　she　had　been　in
her　thirties；　thanks　to　discreet　augmetic　surgery　and　a　regime　of　juvenat…drugs。　Framed　by　the　veil　of　her　starch…silk　dress；　her
handsome　face　and　dark　eyes　glared　at　me。
'It　will　kill　you；　Gregor；'　she　said。
'If　it　does；　then　it　is　time　for　Gregor　Eisenhorn　to　die。'
Bequin　looked　across　the　gloomy；　candlelit　room　at　Aemos；　but　he　simply　shook　his　ancient；　augmented　skull　sadly。　There　were
times；　he　knew；　when　there　was　simply　no　reasoning　with　me。
I　went　down　into　the　street；　where　canister　fires　blazed　and　masked　revellers　capered　and　caroused。　I　was　dressed　all　in　black；　with　a
floor　length　coat　of　heavy　black　leather。
Despite　that；　despite　the　flames　around　me；　I　was　cold。　Fatigue；　and　the　lack　of　nourishment；　were　eating　into　my　bones。
I　looked　at　the　moon。　Threads　of　heat　around　a　cold；　black　heart。　Like　me；　I　thought；　like　me。
A　carriage　had　been　called　for。　Six　painted　hippines；　snorting　and　bridled；　teamed　to　a　stately　landau。　Several　members　of　my　staff
waited　nearby；　and　hurried　forward　when　they　saw　me　emerge　onto　the　street。
I　assessed　them　quickly。　Good　people　all；　or　they　wouldn't　have　made　the　cut　to　be　here。　With　a　few　wordless　gestures　I　pulled　out
four　to　accompany　me　and　then　sent　the　rest　back　to　other　duties。
The　four　chosen　mounted　the　carriage　perial　Guardsman　from　Vladislav；　Arianrhod　Esw　Sweydyr；
the　swordswoman　from　Carthae；　and　Beronice　and　Zu　Zeng；　two　females　from　Bequin's　Distaff。

At　the　last　moment；　Beronice　was　ordered　out　of　the　carriage　and　Alizebeth　Bequin　took　her　place。　Bequin　had　quit　active　service　with
me　sixty…eight　standard　years　before　in　order　to　develop　and　run　her　Distaff；　but　there　were　still　times　she　didn't　trust　her　people　and
insisted　on　accompanying　me　herself。
I　realised　this　was　just　such　a　time　because　Bequin　didn't　expect　me　to　survive　and　wanted　to　be　with　me　to　the　end。　In　truth；　I　didn't
expect　to　survive　either。
The　carriage　started　off　with　a　whipcrack；　and　we　rambled　through　the　streets；　skirting　around　ceremonial　fires　and　torchlit
processions。
None　of　us　spoke。　Qus　checked　and　loaded　his　autocannon　and　adjusted　his　body　armour。　Arianrhod　drew　her　sabre　and　tested　the
cutting　edge　with　one　of　her　own　head　hairs。　Zu　Zeng；　a　native　of　Vitria；　sat　with　her　head　down；　her　long　glass　robes　clinking　with
the　carriage's　motion。
Bequin　stared　at　me。
'What？'　I　asked　eventually。
She　shook　her　head　and　looked　away。
The　church　of　Saint　Kiodrus　lay　in　the　waterfowlers'　district；　close　to　the　edge　of　the　city　and　the　vast；　lizard…haunted　salt…licks。　The
darkness　throbbed　with　insect　rhythms。
The　carriage　stopped　in　a　street　of　blackly　rotting　stone　pilings；　two　hundred　metres　short　of　the　church's　wrecked　silhouette。　The　sky
was　amber　darkness。　Behind　us；　the　city　was　alive　with　bright　points　of　fire。　The　neighbourhood　around　us　was　a　dead　ruin；　slowly
submitting　to　the　salty　hunger　of　the　marshes。
'Talon　wishes　Thorn；　rapturous　beasts　within；'　Ravenor　said　over　the　vox…link。
'Thorn　impinging　multifarious；　the　blades　of　disguise；'　I　responded。　My　throat　was　dry　and　hoarse。
'Talon　observes　moment。　Torus　pathway　requested；　pattern　ebony。'
'Pattern　denied。　Pattern　crucible。　Rose　thorn　wishes　hiatus。'
'Confirm。'
We　spoke　using　Glossia；　an　informal　verbal　code　known　only　to　my　staff。　Even　on　an　open　vox…channel；　our　communications　would
be　impenetrable　to　the　foe。
I　adjusted　my　vox…unit's　channel。
'Thorn　wishes　aegis；　to　me；　pattern　crucible。'
'Aegis　arising；'　Betancore；　my　pilot；　responded　from　far　away。　'Pattern　confirmed。'
My　gun…cutter；　with　its　fabulous　firepower；　was　now　inbound。　I　looked　to　the　others　in　the　shadows　as　I　drew　my　weapon。
'Now　is　the　time；'　I　told　them。
WE　EDGED　INTO　the　gloomy；　slime…swathed　ruins　of　the　church。　There　was　a　heady　stink　of　wet　corruption　in　the　air　and　sheens　of　salt
clung　to　every　surface。　Clusters　of　maggot…like　worms　ate　into　the　stones；　and　flinched　back　as　the　fierce　beams　of　our　flashlights
found　them。
Qus　ran　point；　his　autocannon　swinging　from　side　to　side；　hunting　targets　with　the　red　laser　rangefinder　that　projected　from　the　corner
of　his　bionically　enhanced　left　eye。　He　was　a　stocky　man；　rippling　with　muscle　under　his　harness　of　ceramite　armour。　He　had　painted
his　blunt　face　in　the　colours　of　his　old　regiment；　the　90th　Vladislavan。
Arianrhod　and　I　tailed　him。　She'd　dulled　her　sabre's　blade　with　brick　dust　but　still　it　hooked　the　light　as　she　turned　it　in　her　hands。
Arianrhod　Esw　Sweydyr　was　well　over　tan　woman　I　have　ever　met；　though　such　stature　is
common　amongst　the　people　of　far　away　Carthae。　Her　long…boned　frame　was　clad　in　a　leather　bodysuit　embossed　with　bronze　studs；
over　which　she　wore　a　long；　tasselled　cloak　of　patchwork　hide。　Her　silver　hair　was　plaited　with　beads。　The　sabre　was　called
Barbarisater　and　had　been　carried　by　women　of　the　Esw　Sweydyr　tribe　for　nineteen　generations。　From　the　braided　grip　to　the　tip　of　the
curved；　engraved　blade；　it　measured　almost　a　metre　and　a　half。　Long；　lean；　slender；　like　the　woman　who　wielded　it。　Already　I　could
sense　the　vibration　of　the　psychic　energies　she　was　feeding　into　it。　Woman　and　blade　had　become　one　living　thing。
Arianrhod　had　served　with　my　staff　for　five　years；　and　I　was　still　learning　the　intricacies　of　her　martial　prowess。　Ordinarily　I'd　be
noting　every　detail　of　her　combat　trance　methods；　but　I　was　too　fatigued；　too　drawn　out　with　hunger　and　thirst。
Bequin　and　Zu　Zeng　brought　up　the　rear；　side　by　side；　Bequin　in　a　long　black　gown　with　a　ruff　of　black　feathers　around　the　shoulders；
and　Zu　Zeng　in　her　unreflective　robes　of　Vitrian　glass。　They　stayed　back　far　enough　so　the　aura　of　their　psychic　blankness　would　not
conflict　with　the　abilities　of　Arianrhod　or　myself；　yet　close　enough　to　move　forward　in　defence　if　the　time　came。
The　Inquisition　…　and　many　other　institutions；　august　or　otherwise　…　has　long　been　aware　of　the　usefulness　of　untouchables；　those　rare
human　souls　who　simply　have　no　psionic　signature　whatsoever　and　thus　disrupt　or　negate　even　the　most　strenuous　psychic　attack。
When　I　met　her　on　Hubris；　a　century　before；　Alizebeth　Bequin　had　been　the　first　untouchable　I　had　ever　encountered。　Despite　her
unnerving　presence　…　even　non…psykers　find　untouchables　difficult　to　be　around　…　I　had　added　her　to　my　staff　and　she　had　proved　to　be
invaluable。　After　many　years　of　service；　she　had　retired　to　form　the　Distaff；　a　cadre　of　untouchables　recruited　from　all　across　the
Imperium。　The　Distaff　was　my　own　private　resource；　although　I　often　loaned　their　services　to　others　of　my　order。　They　numbered
around　forty　members　now；　trained　and　managed　by　Bequin。　It　is　my　belief　that　the　Distaff　was　collectively　one　of　the　most　potent
anti…psyker　weapons　in　the　Emperor's　domain。
THE　RUINS　WERE　festering　with　shadows　and　dank　salt。　Rot…beetles　scurried　over　the　flaking　mosaic　portraits　of　long…dead　worthies
that　stared　out　of　alcoves。　Worms　crawled　everywhere。　The　steady　chirrup　of　insects　from　the　salt…licks　was　like　someone　shaking　a

rattle。　As　we　probed　deeper；　we　came　upon　inner　yards　and　grave…squares　where　neglect　had　shaken　free　places…tones　and　revealed　the
smeared　bones　of　the　long　interred　in　the　loamy　earth　below。　In　places；　rot…browned　skulls　had　been　dug　out　and　piled　in　loose
pyramids。
It　saddened　me　to　see　this　holy　place　so　befouled　and　dreary。　Kiodrus　had　been　a　great　man；　had　stood　and　fought　at　the　right　hand　of
the　sacred　Beati　Sabbat　during　her　mighty　crusade。　But　that　had　been　a　long　time　ago　and　far　away；　and　his　cult　of　worship　had　faded。
It　would　take　another　crusade　into　the　distant　Sabbat　Worlds　to　rekindle　interest　in　him　and　his　forgotten　deeds。
Qus　called　a　halt　and　pointed　towards　the　steps　of　an　undercroft　that　led　away　below　ground。　I　waved　him　back；　indicating　the　tiny
strip　of　red　ribbon　placed　under　a　stone　on　the　top　step。　A　marker；　left　by　Ravenor；　indicating　this　was　not　a　suitable　entry　point。
Peering　into　the　staircase　gloom；　I　saw　what　he　had　seen：　the　half　buried　cables　of　a　tremor…detector　and　what　looked　like　bundles　of
tube　charges。
We　found　three　more　entrances　like　it；　all　marked　by　Ravenor。　The　Beldame　had　secured　her　fastness　well。
'Through　there；　do　you　think；　sir？'　Qus　whispered；　pointing　towards　the　columns　of　a　roofless　cloister。
I　was　about　to　agree　when　Arianrhod　hissed；　'Barbarisater　thirsts…'
I　looked　at　her。　She　was　prowling　to　the　left；　towards　an　archway　in　the　base　of　the　main　bell…tower。　She　moved　silently；　the　sabre　held
upright　in　a　two…handed　grip；　her　tasselled　cloak　floating　out　behind　her　like　angelic　wings。
I　gestured　to　Qus　and　the　women　and　we　formed　in　behind　her。　I　drew　my　prized　boltpistol；　given　to　me　by　Librarian　Brytnoth　of　the
Adeptus　Astartes　Deathwatch　Chapter　on　the　eve　of　the　Purge　of　Izar；　almost　a　century　before。　It　had　never　failed　me。
The　Beldame's　minions　came　out　of　the　night。　Eight　of　them；　just　shadows　that　disengaged　themselves　from　the　surrounding　darkness。
Qus　began　to　fire；　blasting　back　a　shadow　that　pounced　at　him。　I　fired　too；　raking　bolt　rounds　into　the　ghostly　opposition。
Beldame　Sadia　was　a　heretic　witch　and　consorted　with　xenos　breeds。　She　had　a　particular　fascination　with　the　beliefs　and
necromancies　of　the　dark　eldar；　and　had　made　it　her　life…cause　to　tap　that　foul　alien　heritage　for　power　and　lore。　She　was　one　of　the
only　humans　I　knew　of　who　had　struck　collaborative　pacts　with　their　wretched　kabals。