“Incorruptibility, modesty, duty and the proper observation of ceremony,” said Tigurius, reciting them from rote. He spun the staff and smoothly rose to his feet, turning towards the great desk carved from a single piece of Iaxian goldwood. Instantly his eyes fell upon his Duanshi ink-stone, his calligraphy brush, a sheet of parchment and the metal-gall ink itself.
“The four scholarly treasures,” he said, pleased that at least one aspect of his vision was making sense. While the visions were still clear in his head, he sat behind his desk and began to commit all he had seen to the parchment It took him two hours to recall every nuance and feeling, and four sheets of paper, which didn’t surprise him.
“Always the symbol of four…” he whispered.
When he had finished, Tigurius left the library and made his way to the top of the mountain, where he found Lord Calgar in conference with First Captain Agemman and Sicarius of the 2nd. The sun was low in the sky, throwing long shadows throughout the courtyard. Calgar looked up as he entered, his face set in a mask of controlled aggression.
Waves of fury radiated from Sicarius, and Tigurius was surprised to realise the captain’s anger was directed at him.
“You heard what happened on Talassar?” said Sicarius.
“I did,” said Tigurius. “I grieve with you, my friend, but the people of Talassar will be avenged.”
“Avenged?” snapped Sicarius. “They would not need avenging if you had read the portents! You saw Behemoth, you saw Nidar and you saw the arrival of the greenskins fleet. Why did you not see this?”
“Tell me, Captain Sicarius,” said Tigurius, carefully modulating his tone to be both soothing and sympathetic. “Is it truly me you are angry with? Or am I just a convenient target for your rage?”
Sicarius looked set to spit a caustic reply, but his jaw tightened and he bowed to Tigurius.
“I apologise, my lord. You are, of course, correct. I am Grand Duke of Talassar, I should have been there to defend my people. I failed them.”
“We all failed them,” said Marneus Calgar. “Our enemies took us by surprise and we reacted as the Codex dictates. Perhaps that was our error.”
“Our error?” said Agemman. “I do not follow.”
“If you know both yourself and your enemy, you can win a hundred battles without a single loss,” said Calgar, quoting from the Codex Astartes. “Our enemies clearly know our methods. They know us well enough to know how we will react to any given circumstance, and what makes us predictable makes us vulnerable.”
Tigurius was impressed. For any Ultramarines warrior, especially the Chapter Master, to admit that their adherence to the Codex Astartes might have left them open to this attack spoke volumes of his humility and willingness to adapt.
“The clever combatant imposes his will on the enemy, but does not allow the enemy’s will to be imposed on him,” said Tigurius, completing the Chapter Master’s quote.
“Just so,” said Calgar, waving Tigurius over to a rolled parchment map of Ultramar. Tigurius scanned the parchment, seeing the dispositions of Ultramarines fleet assets and military deployments. The bulk of the fleet was based around Macragge, with elements scattered throughout Ultramar on patrol circuits and garrison duties. Likewise, the warriors of the Ultramarines were primarily based on Macragge, though numerous squads were assigned other duties throughout the realm.
“I have tasking orders for every portion of our strength, Varro,” said Calgar, tapping the finger of his heavy gauntlet onto the map. “I have recalled the 3rd and 7th, but I suspect events will unfold before they can reach us. But Ultramar is a vast empire, so tell me your divinations revealed some aspect of our enemies’ plan.”
“It did, my lord,” said Tigurius, laying the four sheets of parchment upon the map.
Patiently, he explained all that he had seen and what he believed it meant, seeing the sceptical glances exchanged between the war-captains as he spoke.
“It’s not much,” said Calgar, when Tigurius had finished.
“There are gaps,” admitted Tigurius, “but any plan is better than no plan. These are not set futures, nor are they even probable futures. What is yet to come is like water and flows where it will, yet as the worker of the land can know which way the water will run, a canny practitioner of the subtle arts can read the likely paths of the future.”
Marneus Calgar smiled. “And there are none cannier than you, Varro.”
“You honour me, my lord,” said Tigurius. “I believe what I saw to be true, and I urge you to trust me, Marneus.”
He saw Agemman and Sicarius flinch at his use of the Chapter Master’s given name, but he needed to impress upon him the seriousness of his urging.
“Your visions have served us well before, Varro,” said Calgar, staring at the map. “Without your prescience, Behemoth would have overwhelmed us and countless other threats might have sorely tested us. So I will trust that what you say now is no less accurate.”
“So we base our deployments on… psykery?” said Sicarius. “I mean no offence, Lord Tigurius.”
“None taken, I assure you,” replied Tigurius. “It is often hard for warriors to understand the complexities of the subtle arts. I mean no offence, of course.”
Sicarius blinked, unsure if he were being insulted, but he could only meet Tigurius’ stare for a few moments before the awesome weight of knowledge in the Librarian’s eyes forced him to look away.
“And Calth,” said Agemman. “You say it is the key?”
“I believe so,” said Tigurius, looking away from Sicarius.
“Then surely that should be the focus of our deployment?” said Agemman. “If the key to victory lies beneath its surface, then I will take the 1st Company there to fight in its defence.”
Calgar shook his head. “No, you and your warriors are to be despatched to Talassar.”
Agemman began to protest, but Calgar cut him off. “You heard what Varro said. You and I will be fighting together, but it will not be on Calth. If I read the omens in these visions correctly, another will have the heavy burden of defending that world, eh Varro?”
“Aye, my lord,” said Tigurius. “The Sentinel of the Tower.”
“Remember the last time the four of us walked like this?” said Pasanius, as they marched along the shadowed corridors of the Vae Victus.
Uriel remembered well when it had been, but it was Lord Admiral Tiberius who answered.
“I remember,” said Tiberius, sourly. “When we went to meet the Mortifactors on the Basilica Mortis. The scars those damned pilot ships left have still to be repaired.”
“The shipwrights didn’t get to them after the damage taken at Espandor?” asked Uriel.
“No,” said Tiberius. “There wasn’t time between fighting the greenskins and then heading off to fight the tau.”
“Damned inconsiderate these xenos species, eh?” said Pasanius.
Tiberius didn’t answer and they continued on their way to the embarkation deck, past softly-lit shrines to the Emperor of Mankind and reliquaries containing ancient battle trophies of the Ultramarines. From time to time they would pass a Chapter serf in a blue chiton, hard-wearing fatigues and combat rig, but for the most part they made their way without meeting another soul. Given the nature of the individual coming aboard the Vae Victus, Tiberius had restricted the movements of his crew.
Tiberius was a bald giant in power armour, one side of his leather tough face gruesomely scarred and his craggy features perfectly matching the character of his ship he had commanded these last three centuries. The Vae Victus had taken part in some of the most heroic actions in the Ultramarines history, and wore its scars with pride, no matter that Tiberius complained bitterly about the lack of care she received in Calth’s orbital docks. He wore his green ceremonial cloak of office at his shoulders, and though the foxbat fur at its collar was a constant irritation to him, it symbolised his role as Master of the Fleet. By rights that title should have fallen to Uriel, but there was no shame in passing it t
o a warrior like Tiberius. There was little Lazlo Tiberius didn’t know about void war, and he had accepted the role with honour.
As they took the elevator to the embarkation deck, Pasanius said, “I hear Sicarius and the 2nd are setting off for Espandor. He won’t be happy about that after what happened to Talassar.”
“I don’t blame him,” agreed Uriel. “I know how I would feel if something happened to Calth and the 4th Company were not being sent to avenge its people. I understand Sicarius’ disappointment completely.”
“Lord Calgar and the 1st Company are going to Talassar,” said Learchus. “Surely Sicarius should be pleased at so powerful a response to the attack.”
“Then you don’t know Sicarius,” grunted Tiberius. “The idea that Agemman will get the chance to fight alongside the Chapter Master and save Sicarius’ home world will not sit well with him. He is Grand Duke of Talassar, and it is his duty to fight for his people. And Sicarius will not like anything that sidelines the 2nd and boosts Agemman’s standing.”
“You really think Sicarius has his eye on Captain Agemman’s position?” said Pasanius.
“Cato has his eye on a greater prize than Regent of Ultramar,” replied Tiberius.
“Enough,” said Uriel. “Cato Sicarius is a warrior of great honour and it does not become you, any of you, to be talking about him in this way.”
Suitably chastened, the subject of Sicarius’ ambition was dropped and the talk moved to the other deployments throughout Ultramar.
Lord Calgar and the 1st Company made for Talassar in answer to the murderous attack, while the 2nd Company were en route to Espandor. Elements of the 5th and 6th travelled to Quintam with Chaplain Cassius, and in response to Tigurius’ vision, Antaro Chronus had been attached to their armoured elements.
Uriel and the 4th Company were ordered to Calth, but they would not be travelling alone.
Several ships of the Ultramar fleet had been tasked to accompany the Vae Victus, a small assembly of frigates, destroyers and rapid strike vessels, each a craft with a legacy of honour that was the envy of most other Chapters.
Anchored in the midst of these ships was a Gothic-class cruiser that had taken part in the war that bore its name, though little remained of its exterior silhouette to reveal that proud heritage. Emblazoned on the ship’s blade-like prow was a mechanised skull on a black and white cog symbol, and the vessel’s flanks bristled with augmentations its original builders could never have envisaged.
This was the Perpetuum Cogito, flagship of Magos Locard, a vessel that radiated such strange energy signatures that the deck crew of the Vae Victus could barely register them.
The remaining strength of the Chapter garrisoned Macragge under the command of Captain Sinon, for the Fortress of Hera required defending by more than just the Defence Auxilia and Chapter serfs. Captain Antilochus and Torias Telion of the 10th had deployed in secret, letting none save the Chapter Master know of their ultimate destination, but such was typical of these masters of the Scouts’ art.
“There’s one thing I don’t understand,” said Pasanius, as they reached the blast doors leading to the embarkation deck.
“Just one?” said Learchus with a smile.
Pasanius ignored the jibe and continued. “After what happened on Tarentus, why would the Chapter Master bother going to Talassar? He could be walking into another trap.”
“Lord Tigurius saw him on Talassar,” said Learchus. “Just as he saw Sicarius on Espandor. You can’t fight the future.”
“Since when did you become an expert on causality, Learchus?” asked Tiberius.
Learchus shook his head. “I am not, but it makes sense that if Lord Tigurius saw the Chapter Master there then that is where he will be.”
“I do not think the powers of a Librarian work that way,” said Uriel. “What Lord Tigurius has seen is only one possible future. Perhaps the most likely but still not certain.”
“Is that why we have to have her on board?” asked Pasanius. “To make sure the future plays out the way it’s meant to?”
“That’s what we’ll find out,” said Uriel as the blast doors opened.
The embarkation deck was unusually quiet. Normally a frenetic hive of activity, with Chapter serfs, Techmarines and armourers working to ready the 4th Company Thunderhawks or drop-pods for launch, its gothic immensity felt eerily silent as the four warriors made their way towards the blinking lights of the recovery platform, a long rectangle of blast-scorched steel that sat before the shimmering starscape of the integrity field.
Chaplain Clausel was waiting for them at the platform’s edge, the black of his armour blending with the darkness filling the embarkation deck. The gold of his crozius and the bone white of his death mask shone brightly, and the ferocious solidity of his presence reassured Uriel that they would meet their guest with a united front.
“Chaplain,” said Uriel. “It is good to have you back.”
In the weeks since the 4th Company’s return from Pavonis, Chaplain Clausel had spent much of his time in Macragge’s most isolated solitarium, fasting and meditating on his duty to the Chapter. He had returned only moments before the last Thunderhawk had left Macragge for the Vae Victus, and Uriel was glad to have him aboard. The 4th never fought harder than when Clausel led them into battle.
“It is good to be back, Captain Ventris,” said Clausel. “I felt the call to arms and knew my presence was required.”
“You felt that all the way up in Illyrium?” asked Pasanius.
“I did,” said Clausel. “Didn’t you?”
“I suppose I did,” said Pasanius, taking Clausel’s proffered hand. “It will be good to fight alongside you, Chaplain.”
“It is good to have you back with us. I trust your exclusion from the war on Pavonis has taught you the value of honesty in all things?”
“Aye, it has,” Pasanius assured him. “You have nothing to worry about on that score.”
Clausel nodded and greeted his fellow warriors of the 4th. Uriel felt a bittersweet finality to this assembly of heroes, a strange unease that felt like the moment before a doomed charge. As he listened to their words of renewed brotherhood, he wondered that no one else could feel the charged air between them.
Was this another moment of prescience, such as had saved them all on Tarentus?
“She’s late,” said Learchus, his low voice sounding like a shout in the dimly lit deck.
“It’s her prerogative,” said Uriel, rubbing a hand over his jaw to mask his consternation.
“As what? A woman or an inquisitor?” quipped Pasanius.
“As an inquisitor of the Ordo Malleus,” replied Uriel.
“Malleus?” said Learchus. “How do you know that?”
“I saw the tattoo on her wrist when we met with the Chapter Master,” said Uriel. “Do not underestimate her, and cooperate with her in all things, but have no more dealings with her than are necessary. Understood?”
Both his sergeants nodded, all too willing to keep their dealings with an inquisitor, especially one who dealt with the daemonic, to a minimum.
“Here she comes,” said Tiberius, nodding towards the integrity field.
An angular wedge of a ship slid through the darkness of space towards the Vae Victus, its lines clean and its non-reflective surfaces seeming to swallow the light. It was a small ship for an inquisitor, but Uriel suspected there was another, larger, ship concealed somewhere in orbit with Macragge.
The ship passed through the field, and Uriel felt the cold of space radiating from its hull as it settled to land with a bass thrumming of powerful engines. Decontaminating blasts of superheated steam washed over the craft, and no sooner had they ended than a ramp extended from the side of the vessel and a door slid open.
Inquisitor Namira Suzaku emerged and made her way down the ramp towards them with her stormcoat billowing in the venting gasses of her ship. Her strides were long and assured, her bearing that of a woman who knew exactly which path to follow. Her coterie of aco
lytes came after her. Most Uriel recognised from the meeting with the Chapter Masters, but one he didn’t stood out from the others, a man with dark skin and pure white hair pulled in a long ponytail. He too was clad in a black bodyglove and long stormcoat, identical to the Inquisitor, and Uriel wondered if his mirroring of his master’s appearance was an affectation or a uniform.
Suzaku halted before Uriel and gave him a curt nod of acknowledgement.
“Captain Ventris,” she said, her voice edged like glass and every syllable sharp. “I have heard a great deal about you. Your achievements are impressive. Few can return from the Eye of Terror and remain uncorrupted. I would be interested in hearing how you achieved that remarkable feat.”
“Thank you,” said Uriel, keeping his voice even at the mention of his ordeals. “I kept true to the teachings of the Codex Astartes and its words were our guide.”
“Interesting, given it was your deviance from its words that saw you exiled in the first place. Most intriguing.”
Suzaku’s eyes flicked over to Uriel’s left. “And this must be Pasanius Lysane. Such a shame you did not return with the augmetic tainted with the necrontyr living metal. I know of many of my brethren who desire to study such artefacts. Much can be learned from the perusal of the weapons of the enemy.”
“I was glad to be rid of it,” said Pasanius. “Though it hurt like the fires of damnation, I thank the Emperor every day those monsters took it from me.”
“An interesting metaphor,” noted Suzaku. “You are acquainted with the fires of damnation?”
“A colourful turn of phrase,” said Pasanius smoothly. “Nothing more.”
Suzaku shifted her gaze to Learchus.
“Sergeant Learchus,” she said. “The hero of Herapolis who led the 4th Company of the Ultramarines to Espandor and defeated the greenskin hordes. To single-handedly destroy a gargant is a great achievement.”
Uriel smiled as Learchus actually blushed. “Hardly single-handedly. Chaplain Clausel and many other Space Marines fought at my side. Governor Saul Gallow is also to be commended. His defence force troops fought with great courage.”