It was cold, freezing cold, so cold in fact that every inch of exposed skin had

long since refused to feel anything. The weather had turned but Interrogator Udin
Thrallisus wasnt feeling the benefit. It would take a few more weeks at least before
the grand thaw came to this part of the planet. Fresh icicles still hung off the scrawny
bushes that surrounded him, tinkling against one another with each and every gust of
fresh mountain air that came searing down and into the pass. Each tiny sound
sparking fresh burst of adrenaline to pour through his already highly strung and
nervous system.
This was not helping his concentration much.
He hadnt moved in three days, not even when a nosing ground tharg started
knawing at his left leg. He was stiff, aching and sore from the uneven ground, thirsty
as he had ever felt and suffering from the first symtoms of sleep deprivation. The
sniper rifle felt a thousand times heavier with each passing hour as the troop convoy
below trundled its way through the oblast before him.
Since his first night on this planet he had watched the steady stream of
reinforcements for the High Zars northern armies pass by him, searching all the while
for his target, a vile creature who had elected itself praetor to the High Zars army.
What little he knew about the creature was barely enough to allow him to make a
positive I.D, never mind make a personality profile to help him track his target. The
mission brief had been exactly that, with only the bare bones of intelleigence to go on,
and that had cost the lives of three highly capable explicators from Inquisitor
Hellielles own staff to aquire. Still, an unencrypted vox burst had told him the praetor
would be travelling north to its lord, so after picking a spot the marksman settled
down to wait. Knowing that paitience and cunning would be the key to nabbing this
particular quarry.
Sometimes the Emperor has a strange sense of humour.
Three hours before dark on the third day Udin thought his break had finally
landed when a heavily armoured troop carrier turned the bend onto the rutted and
chruned troop way, the markings of the High Zar prominent on its skirts and from the
flapping banners adorning the grab rails. In the front of the high seated open cab sat a
creature of horror. A multitude of eyes gazed in limpid appraisal of the vast assembly
of damned warriors marching in file along side the vehicle, mandibles clicking their
approval at the regemented discipline shown by the ranks of enemy soldiers. In truth
the creature was more animal than the human being it undoubtedly once was.
Raising himself slightly to peer over the scope of his rifle, Udin checked the
road for bottle necks that would slow the carrier down and give him a better chance of
making a clean kill shot. He hadnt wanted this assignment, in fact, it was a fair bet
that Lord Hellielle hadnt wanted him to go on the mission. Unfortunately the
Inquisitors regular marksman, Shuftu, was in the process of having his lower body
and most of his right arm rebuilt with augmetics after being discovered on a previous
operation by a squad of rebel militia. The image of Shuftus broken and mangled body
being dragged aboard the gun cutter appeared in Udins imagination.
He really needed to concentrate on something else.
Further up the track a group of foot soldiers was in the process of extricating a
supply caravan from the clutches of a muddy ditch, and as the armoured carrier pulled
alongside, Udin lowered his eyes to the scope again and began the breathing exercises
he had been taught in progenium. As his body became attuned to its own natural
rhythm, Udin allowed the sights to rest themselves on the praetors head, slowing his
breathing to painful levels.

The shot sounded appalingly loud considering the heavy duty silencer the
sniper weapon had been issued with. Blinking hard, Udin could see only a red smear
where the head of the preaetor used to be, and a thrill of elation coursed through him.
It was only when the truck started moving again, and the praetor emerged from
behind the red smear that Udins sleep deprived mind rapidly caught up with events
and concluded two things: he hadnt actually pulled the trigger yet but that didnt
make any sense, and his head had gotten a lot colder in the passing seconds. As numb
fingers reached up to pull the woollen shako of his office down tighter on his head,
the last thing Udin felt was the raw, swollen wetness of the bullet wound which had
removed a large portion of his hind brain.
Who knew the enemy had snipers too.