by Various
Kendel hesitated. Although the Sigillite was the Regent of Terra and the Emperor’s right hand, there were many who distrusted him, and some – like the Sister-Excrutiatus – who secretly considered the Emperor a divine being and Malcador as some kind of usurper-in-waiting. She frowned. ‘I am not here to engage with you,’ said Kendel. ‘I have need of the guests you hold in the citadel. Take me to them.’
A noise escaped Herkaaze; a low grunt of derision. I see no reason to accede to your demand.
‘Perhaps this will change your mind.’
Kendel pulled off the heavy battle glove on her left hand and held it up, palm facing the Sisters. On her pale skin there was a shimmering brand, scars made of liquid metal. The icon rendered there was a stylised letter ‘I’, with the suggestion of an all-seeing eye upon it.
‘This is the mark and the authority of the Regent of Terra. I am his Agentia Tertius, and his words echo through mine.’ She steeled herself, for the path she was about to start down would be hers alone if it brought failure. ‘This matter bears the mantle of tacitus bellum, of a need most pressing and covert in nature. So I say once more, do as I ask… Or accept the consequences your obstruction will bring.’
Her former sister-in-arms took a step closer, until they were eye to eye. You shamed the Storm Dagger cadre when you deserted us. But I was not sorry to see you go. If it were my choice, I would have you executed for your temerity. Herkaaze leaned back, retreating. We are the Emperor’s blades, and we do His will. If this is wished, so be it. And if not… She paused, then pointed up at the dome, directly towards the half-globe of Terra visible in the lunar sky. He sees all.
The Sister-Vigilators closed ranks and moved with Herkaaze as she strode away. Only the novice remained.
‘What is your name, child?’ asked Kendel.
The girl was plainly quite afraid of her. ‘Novice-Sister Gathé Soteria.’
‘Well, Gathé. My time is limited.’ She nodded towards the hatchway that led to the Somnus Citadel. ‘Show me to the Seventy.’
With the novice taking the lead, Kendel and the soldiers boarded a pneumatic tram that ferried them through dark tunnels to the Sisterhood’s fortress. As they dropped into the catacombs beneath the citadel, Vasado leaned over and muttered to Qelvyn. ‘You know what that was about?’ He nodded towards Kendel and Soteria at the far end of the tram car.
Qelvyn gave him an arch look. ‘I know bad blood when I see it.’
Vasado shivered. ‘This place gives me the creeps.’ He glanced out of a portal. ‘Something here doesn’t feel right.’
‘I hear you,’ the other soldier nodded. ‘It’s them. They’re all blanks. The Sisters are pariahs, and you know what that means.’
‘They don’t have souls.’
‘If you believe in that kind of thing,’ added the woman. ‘Or it could just be the mind playing tricks.’
Vasado bristled. ‘You look me in the eye and tell me your gut doesn’t sit badly, being in this place.’ When Qelvyn didn’t counter, he nodded. ‘Thought so.’ He had seen the way that the Velox’s psyker pair – the demure astropath and the ship’s Navigator – had reacted with open aversion to the arrival of Kendel aboard the gun-cutter. Both of them could barely stand to be in the same cabin as the former Oblivion Knight, and he wondered if the constant, slightly sickening sensation he felt now was a pale shade of whatever those with psionic gifts would experience.
Vasado was no stranger to discomfort. During his time in the Auxilia, he had spent months knee-deep in inhospitable places no sane person would ever have visited. But the constant, ominous pressure in the back of his head made him want to run back to the Velox where he could lock himself away along with the psykers. He took a long breath and shook it off.
The tram slowed to a halt, and he followed Qelvyn to her feet as a hatch slid back.
‘They have annexed this level,’ the novice was telling Kendel. ‘It seemed the best solution to simply allow them to have it and interfere as little as possible in their affairs. For everyone’s sake.’
The soldiers exited first, and Vasado’s nostrils twitched. He smelt cordite and blood in the air. His hand was on his laspistol in an instant. ‘Careful…’
The sound of steel on steel reached them, and Vasado realised that they had arrived in the middle of a fight.
The chamber before them was partly a vast natural cavern, partly an excavation cut by heavy industrial lasers. Someone had set up clusters of prefabricated habitat modules in groupings best suited to a forward military outpost. He saw a parade ground, a makeshift shooting range, dormitory blocks and the like. The ringing clamour of blades was coming from a fighting pit dug out of the rock, and about it Vasado saw a ring of great, hulking figures in body-gloves and robes.
‘Legionaries…’ murmured Qelvyn. ‘Here?’
‘The Seventy,’ Kendel told her, stepping past. ‘Although there are fewer left now. The name remains, as they have nothing else to designate them.’ She marched towards the giant warriors and the duel they were spectating.
Qelvyn and Vasado quickly fell in step with Kendel, and Soteria came too, wringing her hands and fretting as they went.
Vasado sized up the Space Marines with all the wariness of a scavenger canid approaching a pack of apex predators. Even out of their powered armour, the Emperor’s Angels of Death were impressive specimens. He had seen them many times growing up, and never lost the instinctive sense of respect that their kind instilled in him.
And yet, with the rebellion of Warmaster Horus and the turning of several of the Emperor’s Legions to sedition’s black banner, Vasado was acutely aware that there were many of these gene-engineered beings who were now his enemy. As his gaze raked over the ranks of the assembled warriors, he glimpsed something that made him freeze in his tracks.
Kendel turned back to him as Vasado pulled his gun, the weapon whining as it went into active mode. The sound caught the attention of a couple of the legionaries, who eyed him coldly.
‘What are you doing?’ said Qelvyn, her own hand on her pistol.
‘You see what they are?’ he hissed. ‘Look there, the brands and Legion icons on their flesh!’ As clear as day, many of the warriors had simple tattoos visible on their massive biceps that repeated the same symbol – a six-pointed star-burst crested by a white skull. ‘The Fourteenth Legion! The Death Guard!’
Kendel stepped in front of Vasado. ‘Aye, these are Mortarion’s sons. They are warriors from a Legion that turned against Terra and bent the knee to the Warmaster… But they are not traitors.’
‘Explain.’ Vasado retreated a step, sensing Qelvyn at his side.
His thoughts raced. What kind of madness has the ex-Sister dragged us into? Since becoming one of Malcador’s Chosen, he had come to understand that the Sigillite’s missions were atypical – but until now, his only contact with those having fealty to Horus had been to kill them.
One of the legionaries detached from the group and surveyed them. ‘The woman speaks the truth. We are loyal to the Emperor, as we have always been. Seventy of us, at first. We escaped the betrayal at Isstvan to bring word of the Warmaster’s treachery to Terra.’
‘And what of your brethren and your primarch?’ Qelvyn rocked on her heels, ready to flee if she had to. ‘What allegiance do you have to them?’
The warrior’s eyes narrowed. ‘Are we still of the Death Guard?’ He shook his head. ‘In all honesty, I do not know. That has been taken away from us.’
Kendel glanced at the soldiers. ‘I was here at the end of their flight from horror. I tell you, these men are right and true – perhaps the last of their Legion who are.’
‘So you say,’ Vasado retorted. ‘If that’s so, then why are those here?’ He jerked a thumb back towards the pneumatic tram. Flanking the platform were two dormant gun-servitors, their cannons lowered for now but clearly placed to prevent anyone leaving the
cavern.
The legionary’s narrow, scarred face twisted in a grim sneer. ‘In this day and age, trust is in short supply.’
‘Put away your weapon,’ Kendel ordered Vasado. ‘Before you embarrass us further.’
He reluctantly complied, although the Death Guard seemed unconcerned by the whole exchange. As the heat of the moment faded, the soldier imagined how it might have gone if he had fired a shot. Not in our favour, he thought.
‘I remember you.’ The Death Guard addressed Kendel, no longer interested in the blade fight behind him. From the tempo of the clash, it seemed to be close to a violent climax. ‘Now you speak. Much has changed.’
‘For all of us.’ Kendel looked around. ‘I regret that Luna has become a prison for you and your battle-brothers.’
The warrior shrugged his broad shoulders. ‘We have decided to look upon it as a form of detached duty. A sentinel watch that must be stood, if you will. We train and we meditate. But the Silent Sisters allow us only limited contact with the galaxy at large. So we wait.’
‘For what?’ asked Qelvyn.
‘For the time when we are needed.’ The Death Guard gave her a strange look, as if his answer was as obvious as the grey stone surrounding them. ‘Our primarch will come to Terra, sooner or later. We will be there to greet our father and our errant kinsmen. On that day, we will have words.’
Vasado almost laughed at the warrior’s dour understatement, but a healthy sense of self-preservation kept him quiet.
The warrior looked back at Kendel. ‘I would ask, what news is there of our captain, and our kinsman Voyen? The Sisters say nothing.’
A frown grew on the woman’s face. ‘Nathaniel Garro now serves the Emperor and the Regent of Terra as I do, in missions of secrecy and import. Meric Voyen…’ She trailed off.
‘He left with a few of our number,’ prompted the warrior. ‘They did not return.’
‘They will not,’ said Kendel, after a moment.
‘Ah.’ The Death Guard gave a solemn nod, taking the bleak meaning from her words. Vasado expected him to press for more information, but the legionary simply accepted the cold reality of the loss.
From the fighting pit there came a final, thunderous exchange of blows, followed by a great crunch of stone, and dust kicked up by the duel slowly settled. Even under the effect of the citadel’s gravity-normalising field, the powdery lunar soil ghosted through the air like mist.
The spectating legionaries tapped their fists on their chests in a gesture of approval to the fighters, breaking ranks as the two combatants climbed out. The first of them, dark-skinned with a heavy brow, rose into view. Vasado winced as the legionary snapped his dislocated jaw back into place with a dull crack. He stalked away, and by his manner, the soldier knew immediately that this one had been the loser of the bout. The victor emerged – thickset and bull-necked, even by Space Marine standards – and gave a bellicose snort, a savage smirk playing on his lips.
But the expression fell away when he saw the new arrivals. ‘Gallor! What are these?’
The Death Guard pushed past his brothers and strode over. Sweat still coated his bare arms and chest, and in his hand he carried a short sword with a serrated edge. ‘Short’ was a relative term, Vasado reflected – the weapon was easily the equivalent of a hand-and-a-half blade for normal human.
The first legionary inclined his head. ‘Brother Kyda. Another win for you, I see. How many is that now?’
‘Not enough,’ said Kyda, glaring at the soldiers. ‘Answer me.’
‘Th-this is Amendera Kendel, of Malcador’s Chosen…’ Novice Soteria began, her voice quavering. ‘She has come here to speak with you, lords.’
Kyda ignored the girl, turning his attention on Kendel. ‘The Sigillite sends a lackey, after letting us rot here for years? I hope your words begin with an apology, else you may take them and tell the Regent to–’
‘Decorum, brother,’ insisted Gallor.
Kyda cursed in a tongue that Vasado didn’t understand, but Qelvyn paled a little, making it clear that she did. ‘It’s Barbarusian,’ she muttered. ‘It implies the liquefaction of one’s internal organs.’
‘Charming.’ Vasado made the mistake of catching Kyda’s eye, and the legionary pointed his blade at him.
‘Go away,’ he hissed. ‘Unless you want to join me in the practice pit for my next bout.’
‘The Imperium needs your help,’ said Kendel, cutting through the conversation. She said it with enough firmness that everyone fell silent. ‘A threat has arisen close to the heart of the Imperium, and for my sins, I have been ordered to expunge it. The Warmaster’s insurrection grows more dangerous with each passing day, and the well of the Emperor’s resources is not infinite. Horus will invade, and so little in the way of men and materiel can be spared from the preparations.’ She opened her hands. ‘I have a ship. I have a small crew. But I need strength.’ Kendel nodded towards Kyda. ‘Legion strength.’
‘What kind of threat?’ asked Gallor.
‘Traitors,’ she replied. ‘Of that there is no doubt.’
Kyda’s sneer deepened. ‘Ask the Fists to do it. Or are they too busy standing on battlements and marking the time?’
‘Yes, they are,’ said Kendel. ‘The fact is, every loyal warrior of the Legiones Astartes across the segmentum has a place and a mission. None can be spared.’
Gallor frowned. ‘So you come to us.’ He paused, thinking it over. ‘And perhaps, you are here for another reason… To let us prove our loyalty again.’
Kyda gave a rough chuckle. ‘Ah, brother. Your lack of cynicism is always refreshing.’ He pointed at Kendel. ‘She wants us not because of the fidelity we have proven, but because of the very nature of our circumstance! We are troubling to the Council of Terra. They know not what to do with us. No one will trust us to fight, and no one dares to try and eradicate us. So we sit in this cave waiting for the choice to go one way or the other!’ He turned his head and spat. ‘You came here, Kendel, because we are expendable. Because we can perish on Malcador’s mission and no one will notice.’
‘Yes,’ she repeated. ‘All that is so. The discretionary powers granted me allow a wide degree of latitude in their execution. I am making the best use of available resources.’ Kendel’s voice rose again. ‘I seek assistance in this. Two souls. Who of the Death Guard Legion will accompany me against the enemies of the Emperor?’
None of the other legionaries appeared to hear her.
Kyda planted his sword in the dirt at his feet. ‘Do you really believe that any of us will take to your command?’
And then Kendel did something that Vasado wasn’t expecting. She smiled.
‘Your name is Bajun Kyda. They call you the Bull of the Seventh.’ She glanced at the other warrior. ‘And you are Helig Gallor, known to be grave but of strong character. Yes, lords, I know the names of all of the Seventy, alive and dead. And I understand what it is like to be cut away from something you have dedicated your life to, lost to it because of one person’s toxic choices.’ Kendel’s gaze passed over the Novice-Sister, and her expression was softened by sadness. Then the moment was gone. ‘Tell me, Kyda. Is there a day that passes in which you do not thirst for the sting of battle? How much longer will you be willing to chafe under the mantle of inaction?’ She indicated the other legionary Kyda had bested in the pit. ‘How long do you think it will be before your temper snaps and you take it out on one of your brethren?’
The soldier saw the truth of all Kendel said unfolding on the legionary’s face. It was a gift, he thought. The woman had a way of getting under your skin, an insight that was almost uncanny.
‘And you, Brother Gallor.’ Kendel turned to the other warrior. ‘You have said little, but from the moment I arrived here, you have hoped that it would be with a way out of this hole in the ground.’
‘I thought you were a blank, not a mind-reader,�
� said Gallor.
‘I am an exceptionally good judge of character,’ Kendel replied. ‘When you have hunted as many fugitives as I have, you learn to see past the surface to what people are really thinking. Even transhumans like you.’
Kyda made a rough, snarling noise, and for a second, Vasado thought the Death Guard was growling like an animal. But then he realised the warrior was laughing.
‘Mark me, the Sigillite is cunning to choose you as his agent,’ he said, giving a slow nod. ‘Very well. I’ll join you. Or I may well end up killing someone. Better it be a traitor.’
‘Good choice,’ said Kendel.
‘Do we get any of that new wargear, like Garro and the others?’
She shook her head. ‘Not for the moment, I’m afraid.’
Gallor shot a look across at the other legionaries, who had put distance between themselves and Kendel’s group. ‘You only need two of us,’ he said. ‘Someone will have to counterbalance my battle-brother’s quick temper.’
‘Is that a yes?’ said Vasado.
‘No one else will follow,’ said Gallor, by way of a reply.
In short order, the Velox left Luna and powered away from the plane of the ecliptic. Seeking a system Mandeville point, the vessel pierced the veil of the warp and screamed into the realm of non-space, hurtling across vast distances towards one of Sol’s closest stellar neighbours.
Kendel climbed the length of the corridor tube that followed the gun-cutter’s spine until she reached the cramped command deck. It reminded her of the interior of an ornate clock, all complex mechanisms and devices ticking and spinning, the elements whirring as they worked.
Interstellar ships of this tonnage were a rare commodity in the Imperium. Typically, warp-capable craft were kilometres long, with engine cores alone that would have dwarfed the entire mass of the Velox. But the handful that did exist – many of them using ancient, irreplaceable archeotech from before Old Night – were largely in the hands of Malcador the Sigillite. The ship was the one vital resource that Kendel had been able to wrest from the Regent of Terra for this mission. The rest of her tools were those that she had been able to source through guile and ingenuity.
