Legion of the Damned

Excoriators, and I represent the interests of Chapter Master Ichabod, here on this cemetery world.’

‘Vaskellen Quast,’ the acolyte replied. ‘And I represent Lord Ehrensperger and the interests of the Ordo Obsoletus on this planet.’ Quast tried to hold the stony gaze of the Excoriators Chaplain but failed a second time.

‘The Ordo Obsoletus?’

‘We are an ordo minoris, my lord. Santiarch, may I offer my condolences to your Chapter during the test of these times. I understand that the entire Fifth Company was lost in garrisoning this world against the predations of Chaos.’

‘Duly noted, approbator. Might you tell me what the Inquisition’s interest in our misfortunes might be?’

Quast felt the crushing weight of the Angel’s expectation. The authority of seeming immortality in his grave words. The fearful insistence of the Space Marine’s physical presence.

‘The interest of the Ordo Obsoletus extends to your own interest, Santiarch,’ Quast responded with growing confidence.

‘Just like the Inquisition,’ the Santiarch replied. ‘To reply in riddles. Are the Excoriators to suffer the indignity of investigation, approbator?’ Balshazar asked. When Quast didn’t respond, the Chaplain continued. ‘The Emperor’s Angels come to Certus-Minor to bury brothers, search for survivors and recover our sacred seed. I suffer your aspersions only to achieve that end all the faster. Now, approbator, tell me, have you encountered any of my battle-brethren?’

‘Yes, Santiarch,’ Quast confirmed. ‘Many of them. All dead, I regret. Some of their bodies are spread out across the battlefield beyond, but the greatest concentration lie about the ruins of Obsequa City. I wish I could assist you further but the Cholercaust is absolute in its insistence to leave us nought but corpse witnesses.’

‘Thank you,’ the Santiarch replied soberly and strode across the slaughter towards the demolished city.

‘Three companies and a Chapter battle-barge,’ Quast said as the giant passed, causing the Chaplain to grind to a furious pause. ‘Withdrawn from active duty garrisoning the Eye of Terror? That seems a great outlay for such a solemn mission.’

Balshazar turned dangerously, and Quast became very aware of the gleaming blades that adorned the Chaplain’s death-dealing staff of office. ‘And what would you know of deployments and the Emperor’s Angels, mortal, having existed for all but a galactic blink in the greater scheme of the Imperium?’

‘Nothing, Santiarch. I beg of you. Explain them to me, for I fear you are not here on this dead world just for the bodies of your fallen brothers.’ Quast gestured about the battlefield at the hovering Thunderhawks and swarms of Excoriators methodically picking through the annihilation. ‘What are you looking for, Santiarch? The Adeptus Astartes and the Holy Inquisition have a history of cautious cooperation. Let us build on that heritage. Perhaps I can help you. Perhaps we can help each other. Perhaps together we might truly come to understand what happened here.’

‘You are bold for one so young, approbator. I hope your master understands how incorrigible and stupid you really are.’

‘He does, Lord Santiarch,’ Quast returned. ‘It is undoubtedly the reason he sent me.’

Balshazar stared at the acolyte. This time, Quast held his nerve and stared right back. ‘Santiarch, please.’

‘The Adeptus Astartes do not often share their shame so publically,’ the Excoriator said finally. ‘The Fifth Company requested reinforcement. The Cerberus was en route to Certus-Minor to answer our brothers’ call and halt the progress of the Cholercaust. We failed. We failed to reach our battle-brethren in time and they faced an unstoppable enemy alone and in our absence. Our battle-barge was delayed by strange warp currents in the wake of the crimson comet. Our approach vector was direct but flawed, as was my intention in ordering it. If we had not encountered such problems then we might have been here to fight side by side with our brothers and perhaps prevent their destruction.’

Quast nodded. He chose his words carefully.

‘Santiarch, I do not doubt the truth of your tribulations and the misfortunes that resulted, but we both know that the Cerberus is not here to reinforce the Fifth Company.’

The Excoriators Chaplain began a livid and inevitable advance.

‘You would tempt me, mortal, in a place already sodden with bloodshed?’

Quast stumbled back, his heart battering the inside of his ribcage. He tripped back over a severed limb and landed on his backside in the remains of a ruined cadaver. With the Space Marine towering above him, Quast reached inside his robe pockets and produced a vellum scroll which he offered up to the furious Excoriator.

‘The Fifth Company did request reinforcement but had little expectation of its arrival,’ Quast blurted. The Chaplain snarled and leaning down tore the scroll from the approbator’s fingers. As the Excoriator read, Quast climbed awkwardly to his feet and brushed gore from his robes. ‘They sent long-range astrotelepathic requests to the Viper Legion at Hellionii Reticuli, Second Company Novamarines stationed at Belis Quora and the Angels Eradicant at Port Kreel. They even sent to the Vanaheim Cordon, in full knowledge of its futility. That the Imperial Fists, the Exorcists and the Grey Knights stationed there would not leave the line of defence for fear that the Keeler Comet and trailing Cholercaust might resume its progress on towards Ancient Terra. The Adeptus Astartes wouldn’t leave Terra open to attack to help defend a tiny Ecclesiarchy cemetery world. Their allegiance is to the living, not the dead. The Cerberus set out from your home world of Eschara and no astrotelepathic transmission was sent there. You are too distant a prospect, given the time constraints of the Cholercaust’s arrival.’

‘How did you come by this information?’ Balshazar demanded, scanning the vellum transcript in his ceramite fingertips.

Quast hesitated. ‘My Lord Ehrensperger maintains a choir of powerful astropaths aboard his personal Black Ship. They have instructions to listen for telepathic messages and to scan those communiques for motifs relating to the Ordo Obsoletus’s work.’

‘Your inquisitor lord roams the galaxy, eavesdropping on the communications of others?’ Balshazar marvelled. ‘Again, how like the Holy Ordos. How pathetic. Then specimens like your good self are dispatched to investigate the promise of information and authenticate its relevance.’

Quast nodded, allowing the slurs to wash over him.

‘Our choir intercepted a psychic distress signal in an Adeptus Astartes code, relayed through the Stroika-Six Observium Array but originating from this very world.’

‘I should have you flayed for even that,’ the Santiarch growled. ‘Those were Adeptus Astartes words for Adeptus Astartes ears, information not meant for mere mortals such as yourself.’

‘I’m not sure it was meant for the Emperor’s Angels, either,’ Quast told the Excoriator. ‘The message transcript in your hand contains a report of planetary invasion and a request for reinforcement, followed by a direct appeal to the God-Emperor of Mankind for assistance. For intervention. For a miracle.’

Balshazar scanned the words to which the approbator was referring.

‘A simple prayer,’ the Santiarch said. ‘Open reverence to the father of our very own. I hope that such benediction is not absent from the prosecution of your own work, approbator.’

‘A prayer,’ Quast echoed. ‘My master reached the same conclusion. Until I showed him the intended destination of the message.’

Balshazar located the astrotelepathic terminus on the crumpled vellum. ‘Ancient Terra…’

Quast nodded. ‘The Excoriators did not prevail on Certus-Minor. They are all dead. Yet the Cholercaust was defeated. I do not know what happened here. What I do know is that one of your Librarians made a direct appeal to Holy Terra, to the God-Emperor of Mankind for a miracle, and that appeal seems to have been answered.’

The Space Marine and approbator locked gazes. ‘And that is reason enough for the Ordo Obsoletus’s involvement, so please, Santiarch, now tell me what you and three companies of your Excoriators are really doing here.’

The Chaplain’s mangled face creased with vexation. His anger had dissipated and his brow now furrowed with genuine conflict. As his lips began to form around a response to the approbator’s request, the storm trooper sergeant jogged up behind him.

‘Approbator!’

‘Yes, sergeant,’ Quast replied with obvious displeasure. His eyes remained on the hulking Santiarch.

‘Report just in. One of the frater burn teams has found a survivor.’