by Gav Thorpe
‘We have fought hard since the disaster at Ravendelve curtailed any hope that we might return the Legion to some semblance of its former strength. In the way only the Raven Guard know best we have struck at Horus time and again, sapping his strength, drawing his ire away from other forces.’ Corax sighed. ‘It is not enough. The Warmaster’s armies and fleets still constrict like a noose upon Terra.’
‘Are you suggesting we return to the Throneworld?’ said Noriz, with hope in his voice. ‘Are we going to join the defence?’
‘I would rather lay down my life amongst the stars than cower behind a wall,’ said Agapito.
‘Cower?’ Noriz bridled at the comment. ‘You think Lord Dorn a coward?’
‘Your pardon, I did not mean any such thing,’ said Agapito, raising a hand in apology. He looked at the primarch. ‘We fought to be free of imprisonment, my lord. To incarcerate ourselves within walls once more would make a mockery of everything we believe.’
‘What more can we do?’ asked Soukhounou. ‘We only have so many men, so many ships. As skilled as we are in such conditions, we cannot conjure warriors from nothing.’
‘From nothing?’ Corax shook his head, eyes closed. ‘I tried that, and it has caused us great pain.’
His mind was swept back to the events at Ravendelve some years earlier.
Fear and desperation. Not in the eyes of the men he had turned into beasts, but hiding in his own heart. Having faced death twice, almost succumbing to the despair, it had been a different sort of fear that had propelled him into such recklessness – the fear of being wrong.
Hundreds of Deliverance’s brightest had paid the price of Corax’s desperation and were paying it still. Every passing month took more of a toll on their mutated physiques and he had to watch them being slowly crippled by the blight he had loosed into their bodies. The war allowed no time for pity, no time to go back to his research to look for a cure; the data itself had been too dangerous to keep and what remained of the psychic knowledge implanted into his memory by the Master of Mankind had all but faded.
If he could win the war he could deliver up the broken Raptors to his gene-father for a cure. If there was any hope for them being returned to normal, it would be in the hands of the Emperor.
But the war had to be won first.
He opened his eyes.
‘No, we do not seek to conjure warriors from nothing. There are other fighters to be found, though. We hear word of them, catching their transmissions – the messages of their astropaths. Remnants, companies, squads of Legions broken by war, distant expeditions now returning, garrisons half-forgotten since the crusade began, survivors of offensives and counter-attacks that have broken apart from the Imperium. They are scattered out here with us, fighting as best they can. I will bring them together and we will train them in our way of fighting. That is how we will grow strong again.’
‘It would take forever to round up every waif and stray legionary, even just those within a few thousand light years,’ said Arcatus.
‘We will not go to them, they will come to us. A single, simple message to pierce the roiling warp storms. A clarion call for those without a leader to come together. We will issue the cry to muster and we will strike back with more ferocity than before. We will make Horus rue the day he underestimated us! If the Warmaster wants the galaxy to burn, we will see him consumed by its flames.’
‘If loyalist factions hear this summoning, will not also our enemies?’ Noriz said quietly.
‘Undoubtedly,’ said Corax. He shrugged away the captain’s concerns and looked at Arcatus. ‘If you intercepted an enemy message openly broadcast, calling forces to a particular place, what would you make of it?’
‘I would suspect it to be a trap,’ said the Custodian. ‘It would seem like the perfect opportunity for an ambush.’
‘But won’t our allies think it also?’ said Soukhounou. ‘A rebel ruse to bring them to one place?’
‘Perhaps, but lone ships, small flotillas have more chance of eluding such a trap than a massed fleet. And they will want to believe it is true, whereas our enemy will be guided by caution. When they begin to arrive we can have them send their own messages, so that by word of their own more will be brought to us.’
The Custodian looked unconvinced, and rubbed his chin in thought.
‘By whose authority would you command these forces? You assume much if you think that warriors from many Legions will follow you. The last person to be granted such power was the Warmaster…’
‘I need no greater authority than I was given by the Emperor on the day he made me commander of the Nineteenth Legion,’ Corax replied. ‘I am a primarch of the Legiones Astartes, and though that title has been sullied these past years, it still means something to me, and to others. I will restore the honour of that role and prove that loyalty remains a virtue in these dark times.’
‘And where would we muster this army?’ asked Arcatus.
Corax turned to the controls on the wall and activated a hololithic map, projected from lenses installed in the high ceiling. He manipulated the dials and pad until the view zoomed in to an isolated star system a few dozen light years away.
‘Here,’ said the primarch. ‘A system we liberated only fifty days ago – Scarato.’
II
Scarato [DV -91 days]
‘In the years of the Great Crusade the conclaves of Legions were magnificent affairs filled with celebration, ceremony and grandeur.’ Aloni was wistful, staring into the flames in the immense fireplace that illuminated the great hall. The fire glinted from the dozen golden service studs that pierced his brow and scalp. ‘This feels more like a council of thieves.’
The immense hall was used to far grander occasions, like those that Aloni now remembered. Nearly two hundred metres long and forty metres high, its huge vaulted ceiling was held aloft by pillars like the legs of Titans. The grand fireplace was large enough that a Rhino could have been driven into it, and the heat from the gas-fired blaze was easily felt although the Space Marine was several dozen metres away. Hidden in the chimney was a heat-reclamation system that powered the enormous chandeliers hanging like constellations above.
It was the only chamber in which his primarch felt comfortable, it seemed; the other rooms of the palaces were too small to contain his energy, the corridors too tight, even for one who had been raised in the cells of Lycaeus. Since his declaration and their arrival at Scarato he had been full of movement, barely able to hold in check the desire for action.
He sat in a custom-made throne behind a large desk that had been brought down from the stateroom of the Avenger. Combined with the gilded decor and bright frescoes of the hall it made for a grandiose office more suited to gala balls than councils of war.
‘Circumstances dictate,’ replied the primarch. ‘What is the latest tally?’
‘Three hundred and twelve legionaries,’ said Aloni, not needing to check the data-slate in his hands. ‘A small cargo lighter, retro-fitted with warp engines and Geller fields, just arrived with seven Iron Hands on board. They’d been holding out in the Aquinia system.’
‘I told Arcatus they would come if we called,’ said Corax. He leaned forward, pushing aside the piles of reports on the desk. He was about to speak, but looked away at the sound of the doors opening. Aloni turned his head to see Baroness Naima Starothrendar enter. Short, middle-aged, with a distinct limp and a freshly healing cut across her left cheek, she was physically underwhelming. But on Scarato it had been her refusal to give in to the Sons of Horus, her tenacity to keep alive some of the old ruling class and muster a resistance movement, which had paved the way for the rebellion instigated by Aloni’s secret insertion less than a hundred days earlier.
She approached the primarch, forcing Aloni to step aside so that she could stand by the desk; not for a moment had she doubted the Space Marine would give way. Her expression was s
tern, but when she spoke her words were soft.
‘A few rebel elements – those that openly collaborated with the Sons of Horus – are still holding out in a few of their boltholes,’ the de facto world ruler told them. ‘I have set in motion legal procedure to set up tribunals but I fear the people are too hot-blooded and angry to wait for due process.’
‘Understandable, but intolerable,’ said Corax, equally quietly spoken. He regarded Naima for a few moments, rubbing his chin with a long finger. ‘I sense you have a further proposal to stave off mob justice.’
‘We need to issue a joint statement,’ said Naima, folding her arms. ‘A call from both of us together, asking for calm, should assuage the worst anguish. You are well-known as a liberator and a warrior of justice. If you add your word to mine, if you guarantee that those who turned on their own people will face punishment, the people of Scarato will believe us.’
‘I cannot make such a promise,’ said Corax. He shrugged. ‘I have every faith that you will keep your word, but I will not be here to ensure adherence to Imperial law.’
‘Some warriors will remain, surely?’ Naima tensed, eyes flickering to Aloni. ‘You must maintain some kind of presence here after the tumult you have unleashed. A dozen ships in as many days, and what of those that arrive after you have left? Or if the Sons of Horus return to reclaim what you have taken from them?’
‘I have prised the grip of Horus from Scarato, but it is up to the people of your world to prevent it tightening again. We will leave a few ships that you can crew, but my legionaries will be needed elsewhere, freeing other planets and systems.’
Naima sagged, but Corax smiled and stood up, extending a hand to the woman. The primarch looked right at her, black eyes glinting in the light of the fire, skin like chalk.
‘When the Sons of Horus came here before they were at the height of their power, in great numbers. It is my aim that they will not come back, and certainly not with such force, but to achieve this I must wage war in other places. If I remain, if I turn Scarato into a base for operations, you can be certain that the traitors will return – in numbers such as I cannot protect against.’
‘Lord Corax, I know that you have matters far grander than the fate of Scarato to trouble your thoughts, but for us, for me, the safety of this world and its people is the extent of our concerns. You tell us that to support Horus would be bad for Scarato and I believe you, I really do. The Sons of Horus were not benevolent masters, we know that from recent experience.’ Naima waved a hand towards the doors of the hall. ‘But my people are afraid. Better, they might say, to have a bad master but live than resist and be slain.’
‘You cannot concede to counsel of despair,’ said Aloni, agitated by this attitude. ‘Scarato has passed a handful of years under the yoke of a tyrant. Our world – Lycaeus, the world where I was raised – knew tyranny for countless generations. I was a child, born into a prison, judged guilty simply because I was conceived by a woman who had tried to organise a petition against an overseer who would not allow her to take rest breaks due to the pains of her pregnancy. I never knew that there could be a life other than imprisonment and toil, from my first memories until I was big enough to lift a las-pick. There were those whose only crimes were to have descended from ancestors seven, eight generations back that had displeased the despots of Kiavahr.’
The thought of it riled Aloni even after so long, his stare intent upon the Scaratoan leader. Fists formed at his sides as he grimaced at the recollection.
‘If you capitulate to the threat of Horus it would be to condemn your people to share that fate,’ Aloni continued. ‘I know it is hard, but Lord Corax showed us that one does not have to simply accept the choice between slavery and death. Perhaps for ourselves we must offer up our lives, but such sacrifice can bring freedom to others.’
Naima was taken aback by the vehemence of Aloni’s argument. When he had arrived at Scarato he had found a resistance movement thriving, building for an appointed rebellion. There had been no need for rhetoric and argument; all that had been required was the assurance that if the resistance moved, the Raven Guard would answer. His presence alone had sparked hope. Naima looked at the commander for some time, a slight frown creasing the tanned skin of her forehead. He wondered if she was troubled by his words, or was trying to work out if he was simple. She scratched at an earlobe, a sign of deep thought that Aloni had noticed before.
‘There are no guarantees,’ said Corax, sitting down, hands clasping the arms of his throne. His expression hardened. ‘Only choices.’
‘I understand,’ Naima said slowly. She looked at Aloni and there was a hint of pity in her eyes.
The Space Marine chose to make no remark. He would never be a victim again, thanks to Corax and the Emperor.
Naima assumed a more upright stance and tugged at the hem of her jacket to straighten it. When she next spoke her tone was more businesslike. ‘Thank you for having faith in the people of Scarato, Lord Corax. I hope that you find everything to your satisfaction.’
‘Exemplary,’ said the primarch. ‘Your people’s hospitality is matched by their efficiency.’
‘I wonder if I could trouble you for one more piece of advice,’ Naima said. Corax nodded. ‘I am sure that there are those who will attempt to make a push for power when you have departed. Factions that have benefited from the occupation will seek to restore some of what they have lost. Like you, I have no desire for pogroms and persecution and I must be able to trust those I appoint to positions of power. How can you be sure of their motives? How can you lead them without trusting them?’
‘It was an issue I first encountered when I was planning the uprising on Lycaeus,’ said the primarch. ‘All endeavour is only as certain as the weakest will. There were prisoners that would have been all too willing to betray my cause in return for privileges from the guards. My people knew who they were for the most part, but as the movement grew I could not personally vet every fighter pledged to the cause.
‘During the preparations, I created task forces who knew little of each other, so that no single part of the movement could bring down the whole effort. However, this was not enough to guarantee our security. When the time came for open fighting, I reorganised the cells, swapping leaders and personnel between them, so that had any conspiracy arisen, it would then be broken apart. Momentum and action are the guard against corruption. When power is taken for granted idleness follows and after that… Well, none of us need any further lessons in the price of corruption.’
‘We will do the same with the warriors from other Legions that answer our call,’ added Aloni when Corax fell silent. ‘Existing formations are being broken up, commanders and sergeants moved from one to another. Former placements and allegiances are no longer relevant. If a group of traitors has arrived, masquerading their intent, then their ability to perform treachery is much impaired by being separated. In our experience it will not take long for each of the new formations to determine the true loyalties of those that make up their number.’
‘A root and branch reorganisation?’ said Naima. ‘I am not sure my fellow nobles will be so pleased to hear that.’
‘It is the only way to break power blocs and ensure mutual interest,’ said Corax. ‘You will have to give up your own position in time, in order that the people can see you are not invested in maintaining your own power indefinitely.’
‘Is that your intent, Lord Corax?’ asked Naima. ‘Would you be ready to hand over command of your Legion to another, to avoid similar accusations of self-aggrandisement?’
Aloni noticed her sharp look directed at the primarch. It was the first time the commander had heard any suggestion that his leader might contemplate stepping aside. Questions sprang to mind, dozens of them, but the Raven Guard kept his silence and waited for the primarch’s reply.
Corax did not answer for some time. When he did, he glanced at Aloni and then met Naima�
�s stare with his own.
‘Yes. I have always desired to stand aside for others in due course. There will come a time when my continued presence causes more harm than good. I had thought that moment approaching, but Horus made other plans. He most certainly was not ready to relinquish power.’
‘And you think that you are the best person to decide when that moment will come again?’ said Naima, doubt in her voice. Aloni wondered if the doubt was for herself or directed at Corax. ‘Are you so self-aware and strong-willed?’
‘I do not know.’ A crooked smile twisted the primarch’s lips. ‘If there comes a moment when I am utterly convinced I will know when the time is right, that will be when I must step aside.’
III
Scarato [DV -90 days]
Listening to the transmission from the Avenger, Soukhounou’s eyes widened with surprise. He had been expecting a quiet few hours on watch. The command chamber they had established adjoining the ancient palace of the planetary overlord was little more than a communications relay station, hooked into the sensors and vox-suites aboard the Avenger in orbit; the battle-barge’s systems were more powerful than anything they had access to on the surface.
‘Does the primarch know of this?’ the commander replied over the comm system.
‘I informed him just before I sent you word, commander,’ said controller Ephrenia. Her ageing face was stern on the flickering display. ‘He informed me that as officer of the watch you would deal with the matter appropriately.’
Soukhounou was not sure if that was praise or a test. ‘And this signal originated from a scow breaking warp two days ago?’
‘As I reported, commander,’ Ephrenia said patiently. ‘Crypto-detection matrices confirm that it is one of the old Legion ciphers.’
This in itself meant nothing; the enemy would have had plenty of time to break an opposing Legion’s security protocol. What confused Soukhounou was why anyone would think broadcasting an outdated Raven Guard code would forestall suspicion.
