Uriel's command gave way once again to stillness. Somewhere in the distance another section of vaulted ceiling tumbled downwards, sending echoes throughout the crypt. Uriel lowered his stormbolter and unclenched his lightning-clawed fist. "Brother-sergeant!" Boreas' voice was urgent in his ear. Uriel turned. Boreas was knelt before the remains of a chaos marine. Something cold settled in Uriel's stomach, and he moved swiftly to the terminator's side. There was something in Boreas' tone that brought a cold dread to his heart. He approached, his worst fears being confirmed as he stopped beside Boreas. He spoke softly now, voice no more than a whisper in the stillness. "Seal the area and inform master Sammael." Offering a prayer of thanks to the Lion, Amael hauled himself up and walked over to the body of the legionary. The marine's armour had been almost obliterated in the firefight, only the left shoulder plate remaining in any state of repair. Amael kicked the body over onto its side and felt his world collapse. The emblem of the winged sword stared back at him. Its polished gold given way to tarnished grey, but nevertheless testament to an unbearable truth. The legionary was a Dark Angel. Amael's mind swam and his bolter dropped from numb fingers. Behind him he heard approaching footsteps. Turning, he faced Apollyon, the marine's helm unusually sinister as the glow of flames cast harsh shadows over everything. "Forgive me brother," he said simply. The terminator's voice was the last thing Amael heard before the darkness closed about him. Lexus strode down the nave, struggling to keep himself from breaking into a run. The basilica was empty now; the slain removed and dealt with according to their allegiance. Outside the Fourth company had set up a temporary command post to analyse the reports coming in from all over Calne. If the preliminary data was accurate, the entire southern hemisphere was back under Imperial control. It did not concern Lexus. The Interrogator-chaplain reached the entrance to the catacombs in time to meet squad Uriel leaving them. The Deathwing sergeant bowed to the chaplain, his movements awkward in his armour. "Brother Uriel?" Lexus did not have to say anything else. Eyes grave, Uriel stepped to one side. "Brother Lexus." Behind the terminators, a line of servitors appeared from the dark, each pair bearing a traitor legionary. Lexus tensed. The first pair dropped their corpse onto the cold stone, their soulless eyes staring past the chaplain. Kneeling, Lexus manhandled the form onto its side. There was silence. Finally, he rose. "How many bear the mark of the Chapter?" "We have discovered three whose armour carries our symbols," replied Uriel, his eyes still on the Fallen Dark Angel, "the others were too burnt for us to identify anything for certain. We did find this though." He held out one armoured glove, in it a section of ceramite plate. Lexus took it, turning it slowly in his fingers. Inscribed in gothic lettering on one side, the words Filios Vicconii could clearly be seen. "Vicconius." The chaplain breathed, rather than spoke, the word. "We did not encounter him in the battle," Uriel stated. "He would not place himself in a situation as hopeless as his men faced here," Lexus remarked, his voice betraying more than a hint of contempt. "Vicconius may be careless with his sons, but he is most concerned with his own survival. But he is here, on this world. The corruption in his soul betrays his presence to the faithful." Lexus tossed the plate to the ground. "When Grand Master Ezekiel has established their identity, destroy all you have found here. Leave nothing but ash. Did any soul but you and your men lay eyes on this?" Uriel locked eyes with the chaplain, "Only one." * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * A faint light began to encroach upon the Dark Angel's vision. With an effort that caused his body to shake, he opened his eyes. Pain blossomed inside his skull forcing him to clench his teeth to prevent himself from screaming. His breathing was ragged and sweat drenched his body. He tried to twist his head, but found himself restrained. He was held upright, clamped to the walls at his wrists and ankles, his head held in position in what felt like a vice. As far as he could tell, he was naked. He shivered as the chill of the room hit him for the first time. He was in almost total darkness. Only slivers of blue-silver betrayed the extent of the room's area. He tried to swallow, but his mouth was dry. A hundred questions flooded into his mind, but he had no answers. Without warning, an area of the black disappeared, replaced by blinding light, forcing the marine to screw up his eyes against the glare. He heard figures enter, the door through which they had come slide shut, and an electrical hum as the room was lit. "What is your name?" a stern voice demanded. Without thinking, he responded. "Amael." He forced his eyes open for the second time. "Who do you serve?" the voice demanded again. "I am a servant of the Emperor and his first son, the Lion." Concentrating, Amael made his eyes focus on his interrogators. Three figures occupied the space in front of him. Two, standing near the back of the room, were unidentifiable beneath their cowls. The third he knew as Lexus, Interrogator-Chaplain. "Why" he began. "Quiet," ordered Lexus, taking a step closer. "What did you see today?" "I saw the traitor legions. The perpetrators of the great betrayal." Amael's voice wavered. "One wore the mark of the Order They are of our kin" His voice trailed off and he lowered his gaze from the chaplain's fierce glare. Lexus stared at the restrained marine. "They are not of our kin," he hissed, his voice deadly quiet. Amael expected him to say more, but instead he heard the chaplain turn and walk away. He looked up. The interrogator had moved to his companions. They spoke in hushed tones. Amael could not make out their words. Sweat beaded on his forehead, trickling into his eyebrows and down his nose. The speaking stopped. One of the cowled figures approached, stopping centimetres from him. Amael forced himself to meet the stranger's eyes. Or, rather, his eye. Where the other should have been, a whirring lens buzzed and clicked as it focused upon its subject. The stare of the organic eye was intense, as though it saw though his skin into his very soul. Amael remembered it well. At his initiation into the chapter, the Grandmaster of Librarians had been an imposing figure even standing at the other end of the Tower of Angels' greatest chapel. This close, Ezekiel's will was tangible as it brushed against his thoughts. Slowly, inexorably, the librarian pressed his hand to Amael's face, holding his body and mind in a vice-like grip. The Dark Angel's scream penetrated the walls of the chamber as Ezekiel took his thoughts. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Lexus moved briskly further into the command post. His hand toyed reflexively with the rosarius hung about his neck, its single black pearl gleaming under the neon lights. He reached his destination. The door was framed by two hooded and robed Dark Angels, their gauntleted hands resting on the pommels of their upturned swords. The interrogator passed them unchallenged, sweeping past into the chamber beyond. The room bore little resemblance to the rest of the Firebase. It was dimly lit, its walls betraying no hint of adamantium but covered instead with ancient standards and the icons of the Dark Angels. In the centre of the room, a circular grey table, inscribed with ancient lettering and the symbol of the broken sword, was divided equidistantly by three seated marines. Lexus approached, bowed to those present, and took the final place at the table. "Brothers," the marine seated furthest from the chamber's entrance spoke. "We meet to defend the honour of the Order. Let yourselves be known." As one, Lexus and the others present removed their hoods. Lexus' gaze fell upon each in turn. Sammael, Ezekiel and Uriel. The Grandmaster of Librarians spoke first, his voice solemn. "It is the will of the Keeper of the Truth that Master Sammael shall lead us in our deliberation. Upon him is conferred the trust of the Order." Sammael nodded his head in acknowledgement, "May the Lion grant me the wisdom to proceed," he gave the familiar response. He turned to face Lexus. "Brother-chaplain Lexus, it is my belief that you have knowledge of the Fallen one?" Lexus' brow furrowed. "It has been the work of my years in the chapter to bring this Fallen angel to justice Master." |
E TENEBRAE LUX By Jacob Stow |
FABLES OF THE UNFORGIVEN |
