The first cut was quick, clean and deep across his belly, on the same point as his old
wound. It felt as if his entrails were going to fall out, but still not. He didn't feel any pain,
just shock and horror over what had just happened. For the first time in many years he felt
horror, and it was a feeling he could have done without. He didn't notice the next swing of
the silver blade, but he felt it as it stabbed down between his ribs into his left lung. The
sound of bone being cracked inside him reached his ears from the inside, which made it so much
more horrible. When the cracking of bone came, he knew that the major had twisted the
dagger round half a turn to cause as much damage as possible. He felt the dagger being
pulled out of his body and he slumped down on his knees. Reflecting over what had just
happened as his life-fluids pumped away, Colonel-commissar Ibram Gaunt cursed himself for
not seeing it coming. As he hadn't heard that the major was following him as he'd ordered,
he'd turned just in time to the silver Tanith dagger cut across his belly. At the same point
where his uncle had cut him more than twenty years ago with a chainsword.
A heavy kick sent him on his back, so that he looked straight into the major's snake-like
face. There was something resembling a smile on his lips. A cruel, evil smile.
'I told all those years ago that I would kill you, Gaunt. But I didn't say it was going to be swift.'
'Really?' Gaunt replied, fighting the immense pain which was making it's way to him now, as the first
shock began dying away. 'Why?'
'I'm startled to hear it come from you,' Rawne said and hunched down beside his commander. 'It's simple.
You left Tanith to die, a cruel and prolonged death. I want you to suffer the very same sort of death.'
Major Rawne placed the bloody dagger at Gaunt's throat, angled it a bit to get a clean cut, when things
got to that. Gaunt could tell the major was enjoying every second of this. He would like to die quickly,
just to be saved the pain, and had always thought he'd do so, but how different things turned out.
Gaunt closed his eyes for a couple of seconds, hoping he'd never be able to open them again, but as he
thought so, he remembered his father, clearer than he'd ever done before. He remembered the time he'd
had at the Schola Progenium, nearly ten years, in a flash. He remembered Oktar, his mentor, and General
Dercius, his uncle. He remembered his first meeting with Lillith and Inquisitor Defay on Darendara, He
remembered Warmaster Slaydo, Sym, his old adjutant, and...Tanith.
Tanith was the real reason he was
lying here, seeing his life pass in review. It was close now, he could almost reach out and touch the reaper
man has he hung over him, the ghosts of the past haunting him. It was reluctantly he opened his eyes again,
seeing Rawne still sitting there, now watching the dark, red blood pumping out of his chest. The dagger was
still at his throat, Gaunt noticed.
'I won't let you go Gaunt, not just yet,' Rawne said, realizing the colonel-commissar was watching him.
'How do you think you'll get away with this Rawne?' Gaunt asked, his voice hoarse of bloodloss and strain.
Like on cue, shadowy figures moved out of the darkness of the surroundings, like...ghosts. That was exactly
what they were, Gaunt realized, his own Ghosts. The people he'd counted as loyal were amongst them; Bragg, Mkoll,
Larkin, Corbec and Caffran, even Dorden and Milo.
The shock of seeing them here was almost enough to kill him. So many
he'd never thought would want to see him dead, amongst Rawne's own followers. The knife blade against his
throat pushed in slightly, Rawne wanted his attention back to him.
'I'll get away with it cause we're all in on it. We've had enough being thrown around the entire of the Sabbath systems.
Nearly ten years in service of the Emperor is enough, no? We're gonna make a New Tanith, but it's not going to be
under your leadership, ghost maker!'
'Fool!' Gaunt hissed. 'You're never going to make it! Think of it. None of you've got enough tactical...'
'We've got enough,' Corbec cut him off. 'Never thought we'd watch and learn?'
Gaunt looked up at his second officer. It seemed as a completely different man was standing there, not the
hearty man Gaunt had got to know the last nine years. They all seemed changed. Bragg seemed terrifying, Larkin psychotic
and Milo, now a young man, looked irritated over that Rawne prolonged it so. Gaunt realized what they all felt towards him;
hatred. They hated him for what he'd done to Tanith and their families all those years ago. His own motto entered
his mind:
Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer.
That it had been that simple? It couldn't be true, it couldn't be...
In the distance, Gaunt heard the thumping of the Ketzok Basilisks and the enemy artillery. How far away could they be?
A kilometre, two? Anyways, they were of no help to him now. But he hoped that an enemy force would come by to this
remote warehouse, giving the Tanith something else to bother about. Banishing the thought in an instant, Gaunt aimed his
attention on the assembled men. There were some Verghastians amongst them. They had also been torn from homes and
families by him. Their accusing eyes were nothing compared to the pure hatred blazing in the eyes of the Tanith. They'd
all hated him then, but some had chosen to hide it from him. Clever.
Gaunt was reflecting over this as his vision suddenly began blurring, dark spots appearing before his eyes. Bloodloss, he was
going to die of bloodloss. Oh, why couldn't it had come sooner? This was enough humiliation, Gaunt thought. Being killed by
his own men he'd always thought was a risk he'd have to take, but to die from bloodloss? To die was an invitable fate for
all humans, Gaunt knew it full well, but to die like this? Like this?! Gaunt closed his eyes and exhaled a long wheezing sound.
Rawne, hearing the colonel-commissar's heavy, wheezing and uneven breathing, crabbed hold of the collar of Gaunt's tunic
and pulled him up. He wasn't going to be cheated of this, not now! He was so close!
'Feth you Gaunt if you die now!' Rawne yelled at his commander. The major started as Gaunt threw open his eyes and gave
him a cold stare. The eyes were cold, calculating, ancient looking.
'Are you afraid I'll come back to haunt you if you don't do the job properly, major?' Gaunt spluttered forth, blood beginning to
run down his chin. A smirk crossed Gaunt's blood-stained lips as he felt the dagger at his throat again.
'Come on major, what are you waiting for?' Gaunt taunted. He wasn't getting out of this alive, so he thought to make the
best of it. 'Afraid of the consequences?'
'I'm not afraid of anything, neither are the others,' Rawne said and threw with his head a bit to indicate whom he meant.
The Tanith dagger pressed harder against Gaunt's throat as he heard Rawne hiss:
'Any last words, ghost maker?'
'Go to hell,' Gaunt whispered hoarsely.
'Fun, very fun, Gaunt,' the major said and allowed himself a smile. 'You think this is all a joke, right? That any time now, we'll
all yell "Just kidding!", but we're not going to, see? Here's another joke for you: What does it take to become a Ghost?'
Rawne put even more weight on the dagger and angled it to make a cut that would kill instantly. Gaunt could almost swear
upon that it was piercing his skin already.
'The answer;' Rawne said and smiled maliciously. 'First you'll have to die.'
Gaunt felt the blade pass through sinew and muscle, veins and skin. Rawne let go of Gaunt's body and it fell to the floor with a thump.
Gaunt turned his head to the right and the last thing he saw, before passing from this life, was the shapes of Volpone soldiers
entering the warehouse.
However, there has been rumours on that Gaunt was murdered, and because of this, the real reason of death for one of the most famous officers in the Sabbath Crusade remains a mystery.
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