Heralds of the Siege

by Nick Kyme

  Again, Balsar’s thoughts returned to the next step. He needed assistance and only Noriz could provide the sort that he required. What he would do once he was free of the Wrathful Guardian was another matter.

  There was a communications panel in the wall of the magazine. Balsar keyed it to the command channel of the bridge.

  ‘I need to speak to Captain Noriz immediately.’

  ‘Kurthuri? This channel is not secure! I have your position, await contact.’

  The connection was cut and Balsar took his thumb from the activation stud, at a loss. Had he just given himself away? He moved to the back of the chamber, pistol aimed at the hatchway, and waited.

  Minutes later, movement outside brought his finger to the trigger. Only when Noriz stepped into view did he lower the weapon.

  ‘External address only,’ the captain said, waving for Balsar to join him. A squad of Imperial Fists stood in the corridor of the gun deck outside, bolters at the ready. Several of them showed battle damage to their armour. ‘Arcatus has our cipher codes. Vox-traffic is being monitored.’

  ‘What is happening? What does Arcatus want?’

  ‘He and his Custodians opened fire on my men. I believe he means to kill you.’

  ‘What, they were shooting to kill you as well?’

  ‘Warning shots, really. We’ve exchanged a few volleys to discourage the Custodians from getting in our way, and it seems to be working. So far. But this could escalate quickly.’

  ‘I have to get off the ship, then.’

  ‘That was my thinking, also. Not being able to rely on the vox has hampered my efforts, but we have a secure route through to the port aft bay. We did when I last checked, at least. But there is an incoming Stormbird from the defence station. I don’t know who is on board – more Custodians, I would think. We’ve managed to avoid casualties so far, and I won’t resort to lethal action against the appointed Hands of the Emperor. Not on this ship, not in the light of Sol. This has to be some misunderstanding. Once you are clear, I’ll signal Seventh Legion command to intervene on your behalf.’

  ‘Arcatus seemed entirely certain what was expected of him,’ said Balsar. ‘This was prearranged. You heard what I heard.’

  Noriz said nothing more. At a nod from their captain, the squad formed up and started moving aft.

  When they reached the corridor that led across to the main dorsal transit they met up with a handful more Imperial Fists moving forward. Their sergeant approached with a salute.

  ‘What is it, Vindar?’ asked Noriz.

  ‘The Custodians have opened the main weapons store and have taken almost all of the melta charges, my lord. They’ve already broken open Legionary Kurthuri’s sanctum. I think they mean to disable all of the launch doors.’

  ‘Then we have to–’ Noriz stopped as two figures in gold appeared on a walkway above. Without warning they turned their guardian spears towards the group and opened fire, their bolts cracking into the armour of the Imperial Fists as they turned.

  Noriz and the sergeant grabbed hold of Balsar by silent consent and hauled him away. The moment he was out of sight, the fusillade stopped.

  ‘They’re not shooting at us, then,’ Vindar muttered. ‘Only you.’

  ‘My apologies for the inconvenience…’ the Raven Guard replied.

  They broke into a run, the clatter of armoured boots behind them as the other legionaries followed.

  ‘We’ll head for the closest bay and break through however we can,’ announced Noriz. ‘No more delays.’

  ‘How did they get ahead of us?’ Sergeant Vindar’s question was punctuated by the whine of bolts from the hallway junction ahead. Three Custodians had taken up position around the entrance to the flight deck, using the stanchions of the muster point as cover. ‘Do they have their own secure channel?’

  ‘They defend the Emperor’s domains from all threats,’ replied Balsar. ‘Don’t you think they might have studied the layout of this ship down to the smallest detail before they ever set foot on it?’

  Noriz tried to push him aside but he resisted, thrusting away the captain’s hand. He snapped off a shot with his pistol towards the Custodians and drew his chainsword.

  ‘I am a Space Marine, captain. Not a bystander.’

  The two sides fought to a stalemate in the next few seconds, with neither the Custodians willing to give ground nor the Imperial Fists wishing to bring to bear the full force of their attack for fear of maiming or killing the Emperor’s guardians. When another of Arcatus’ warriors joined the defence, Noriz signalled for his warriors to withdraw into the surrounding galleries.

  ‘This is not going to work,’ Balsar said.

  ‘Perhaps we should just throw you out of the voidlock,’ suggested Vindar. He sounded sincere. ‘You’ll be fine, Librarian, I’m sure.’

  Balsar frowned, thoughtfully. ‘That’s not such a–’

  Noriz silenced him. ‘We are not throwing you out of a voidlock. Vindar, slow advance. I want it to seem that you are trying to take the launch bay. We’ll send more squads your way when we see them.’

  ‘You’re leaving?’ said the sergeant.

  ‘A lesson from our companions from Deliverance.’ Noriz cocked a look at Balsar, the smile apparent in his voice. ‘Be other than where the enemy believes you to be.’

  ‘The First Axiom of Stealth,’ he replied. ‘Indeed, I think I’ve been cooped up with you Imperial Fists for too long. You’ve dulled my Raven Guard wits.’

  Vindar moved to the corner of the junction. ‘We’ll drag every Custodian into the fight, captain. Surround them.’

  ‘No.’ Balsar shook his head. ‘Give them a route to leave by. If you cut off all retreat then they’ll fight to the death – you’ll leave them no choice. Leave a chink in your armour, and let them exploit the mistake.’

  ‘You Ravens are certainly sneaky,’ said the sergeant. He received a nod from Noriz, confirming the plan.

  With a shout, Vindar and a handful of his battle-brothers rounded the corner, firing on the move. They were met immediately by return fire from the Custodians.

  Balsar turned to Noriz. ‘So. Where do we head?’

  ‘Where are they?’ Noriz hissed. The pair crossed one of the upper galleries, taking a circuitous route to the launch bays on the opposite side of the vessel, as far from the Imperial Fists’ attack as possible.

  Again Balsar felt the temptation to extend his preternatural senses, to search the ship for his adversaries. As he and Noriz dashed along the corridor and pounded up a stairwell – they avoided the conveyors out of concern that the Custodians had some means of monitoring their activation – the former Librarian had an almost physical desire to unleash his power. He was like an adult human competing against a child, holding back their true strength in order to present an even contest. He gritted his teeth.

  ‘I swore to the primarch that I would abide by the Edict of Nikaea,’ he said. ‘Only Malcador can release me from that.’

  ‘A shame. We could use a psychic augur. It would make this a lot easier.’

  ‘And it would be nothing at all if you would simply order your men to gun down these Custodians!’

  ‘I take your point. We each must live by our code and honour, then.’

  ‘A code that this war has stretched to breaking, captain. Now more than ever, we must hold dear the values that separate us from the traitors. Fraternity, loyalty, obedience.’

  ‘Obedience?’ Noriz almost laughed. ‘If that is true, why resist the will of the Custodians?’

  ‘When I have a little more time, I’ll be sure to paraphrase one of Lord Corax’s lectures for you, on the difference between obedience and subservience.’

  They rounded onto a landing and, after a brief survey in both directions, headed into the corridor adjoining it. They had gone no more than twenty metres when a blast door wheezed down ahead of them, shutting off the route before them.

  Noriz cursed. ‘Arcatus turns my own ship against me!’

  ‘
He must have overridden the servitor protocols…’

  They turned and headed back to the stair, but a golden-armoured figure stepped into view ahead of them, about fifty metres distant. It was Arcatus himself, resplendent in his hand-forged battleplate. His impassive mask regarded the pair for just a split second before his spear spat bolt shells down the corridor towards them.

  Noriz threw himself into Balsar and the two of them tumbled out of the line of fire, clattering across the deck. In the quiet that followed, the clang of armoured boots on metal approached, swift but steady. Arcatus was not so rash as to run headlong after his prey. Doubtless he was already summoning his warriors to close the net once more.

  ‘Enough,’ whispered Balsar, shrugging off Noriz’s weight. He rose to a crouch, pistol and chainsword at the ready.

  ‘No killing,’ insisted Noriz, holding out a warning hand. ‘Our code, remember?’

  ‘We’ll overpower him,’ promised Balsar. ‘We can thin their numbers, and then I can get away. How long until the boarding party–’

  He never finished his question. Arcatus appeared, guardian spear raised for the attack.

  His first burst of fire sparked from Noriz’s armour as the captain hurled himself forwards, bolt pistol raised, his power sword still in its scabbard. He crashed a gauntleted fist across the faceplate of Arcatus’ helm, and in return the Custodian struck the haft of his spear into the captain’s arm, jarring the pistol from his grip.

  Balsar joined his kinsman, his chainsword snarling into life as he swung for Arcatus’ leg. Only a wounding blow, he told himself. Unlikely to be fatal for a Custodian.

  Arcatus stepped quickly, pulling his leg back even as he jabbed the butt of his guardian spear towards Balsar’s throat. The Raven Guard dodged the attack at the expense of his balance, and in the heartbeat it took to right himself, Arcatus had reversed his grip and swung his blade in retort.

  Noriz drove the blow aside, smashing his shoulder under the arm of the Custodian. He tried to lift him, to turn the embrace into a throw, but Arcatus turned his weight to his advantage, flipping Noriz away. With a crack of armour, the Imperial Fist slammed into the wall and fell to the floor.

  Arcatus focused on Balsar, thrusting the guardian spear at his prey, feinting first to the left before slashing from the right. Balsar’s hastily raised chainsword caught the gleaming blade and, for a moment, sparks erupted like a fountain of fire. The chainsword lost, cleaved into pieces of whirling metal and ceramite, its chain-linked teeth scattering across the deck in a shower of white-hot, molten droplets.

  Balsar fired. Point-blank, he emptied his bolt pistol into Arcatus’ face.

  At least, he attempted to. The first two shots rang from the Custodian’s helm with blossoms of detonation, but Arcatus veered and swayed with incredibly agility, one moment in front of the Raven Guard, the next alongside him, smashing an elbow into the side of his head.

  He stumbled, turned the fall into a roll and dived aside as the cracking head of the guardian spear seared into the deck grille where he had been a second before. Without time to catch his thoughts, he threw himself under the next blow and aimed a kick at the Custodian’s knee, cracking the shining auramite there.

  The Custodian staggered back, slowed for the first time.

  In the space this allowed him, Balsar jumped to his feet and drew his combat knife.

  Behind the Custodian, Noriz rose up and thundered a double-handed blow into the back of Arcatus’ head. The Custodian turned at the next punch, catching it on his vambrace, thrusting one-handed with his guardian spear. The point crashed through Noriz’s plastron, splintering the armour and disrupting flesh as it drove through fused ribs and vital organs.

  The Imperial Fist twitched on the halberd, fingers spasming and head jerking as he fell away, dull blood already clotting from the wound.

  Seeing Noriz’s body fall, the trail of ruptured viscera that trailed from his broken plate, set Balsar into motion before he fully understood what he had just witnessed.

  He seized Arcatus with a roar, wrapping an arm about his neck and driving his knife towards the grille of his helm. But the Custodian was too quick, turning his head so that the blade shrieked from the armoured visor, leaving a finger-width welt in the metal. Balsar drove a foot into the back of Arcatus’ wounded knee, forcing him down with all his weight, his opponent unable to bring the spear to bear in time.

  Pulling harder, Balsar grunted and snarled as he constricted his arm tighter and tighter, twisting Arcatus’ head sideways and back. Gauntleted fingers scrabbled at the Raven Guard’s faceplate. A thumb jabbed backwards like a dagger, breaking his left lens, missing his eye by a fraction to bruise against the reinforced bone of his brow. Even so, the momentary weakening of Balsar’s grip was enough for the Custodian to free himself from the grapple, abandoning his weapon to get two hands on the Raven Guard’s arm to throw him over a shoulder.

  Enraged, Balsar slammed his knife backhanded, slashing the point across the other warrior’s gorget. As the momentum spun him around, the Raven Guard propelled himself headlong into his foe, smashing his forehead into the weakened visor. The Custodian’s helmet split open, falling between them as he staggered back, bloody drool bubbling from his nose and mouth.

  Lashing the knife towards his opponent’s exposed face, Balsar struck again and again, opening up a wound across the Custodian’s cheek, cutting the top off his right ear. Arcatus backed away, raised hands fending off the next flurry of attacks as he regained his senses.

  And it was at that moment that Balsar knew he could not win.

  He had taken his best shot and it had not been enough. He could only be victorious now if he tapped into his true abilities.

  Psychic energy coursed into the Librarian. Eyes burning with golden light, he held up his fists, black flames wreathing his gloves. A nimbus of power shone from his psychic hood, bathing the walls and floor with cerulean light.

  Arcatus stared at him, snatching up his guardian spear from the floor. Balsar would have expected anger, hatred, perhaps even resignation, but he was not prepared for the look he saw in the Custodian’s eyes.

  It was disappointment. Maybe even pity.

  And in that gaze he saw again the black eyes of Corax as he had dismissed Balsar, convinced that the psyker was tainted in some way. The words the Librarian and his primarch had uttered came back to him in that moment.

  ‘Very well. You will go to the Sigillite and receive his judgement in person. Your brothers are under ban of their powers again. Any use of them without specific order will be a capital offence. Am I clear?’

  ‘Absolutely, my lord.’

  A code. His honour. His oath.

  Balsar reined in his rage. The flames guttered and died as he sank to his knees, the gleam of psychic power fading from his gaze.

  Arcatus loomed over him, bloodied but unbowed. He took up the spear in both hands and swung.

  The blade of the spear crashed against the bulkhead just above Balsar’s head, showering him with hot sparks but otherwise leaving him unharmed. The Custodian let the weapon drop from his grip. He lifted his hand and spoke into the vox-link built into the vambrace of his right arm.

  ‘This is Arcatus. Codeword “Disciple”. Cease operations immediately and return to quarters.’ He looked down at the Librarian. ‘Balsar Kurthuri of the Nineteenth Legion, will you submit to me, to face the judgement of Malcador?’

  Confused, Balsar looked back and nodded.

  ‘I will.’

  The Sigillite waited for them in an austere chamber somewhere in the depths of the Imperial Palace. Balsar had no idea where they were. He had been sedated for much of the journey.

  With Malcador were two of the Sisters of Silence, clad in ceremonial armour, their faces veiled. Balsar’s skin and mind itched in the presence of the anti-psykers, but Malcador seemed unaffected. If anything the Null-maidens seemed to be keeping their distance from him. Despite their warp-dampening presence, Balsar could feel the power eman
ating from the First Lord of Terra, so powerful that the warding of the Silent Sisterhood was not enough to contain it. It lapped against the edges of his consciousness, laid bare before them.

  The Sigillite regarded him impassively for several minutes.

  ‘Balsar Kurthuri – you must forgive me for the severity of the test you have endured. The death of Captain Noriz is most regrettable. Lessons will be learned from this.’

  Balsar said nothing. His jaw worked silently.

  Malcador nodded in understanding.

  ‘Again, you have my apologies. But the strength of will you have shown under extreme duress, not to mention considerable physical prowess, is one of the qualities I seek. The Librarius of the Legions were full of powerful psykers, many of them more capable than you in that regard. But it is temperament, loyalty and a good degree of stubbornness that make the finest warriors. Rest assured I will send word, if I can, to Lord Corax. You will not be returning to the Raven Guard, but I have no doubt you will continue to serve with distinction, nonetheless.’

  ‘Serve who?’ Balsar asked.

  There came a brief surge of psychic power that caused the Sisters of Silence to stiffen, and a door in the far wall slid open to reveal a warrior in Mark VI battleplate. The armour was the unadorned grey of bare ceramite, free of all sigils and livery, and crowned with a finely wrought psychic hood. Wincing at the presence of the Null-maidens, the Space Marine stepped into the room.

  ‘This is Brother Umojen, Balsar,’ said the Sigillite, turning away. ‘He will explain everything.’

  VALERIUS

  Gav Thorpe

  ‘Vice-Caesari, we have massive contact reports in sectors three through five!’

  Marcus Valerius turned to the tribune commanding the scanner array of the Contemptuous.

  ‘This isn’t a scouting mission, sir,’ the young man continued. ‘It’s a breakthrough!’