Salamander

foundation. Both Kadai and N'keln have a worthy successor.'

A shadow fell across them, interrupting the former sergeant.

'Brother Dak'ir.' It was Pyriel.

Ba'ken knew this was coming and bowed curtly to the Librarian before leaving them.

'I sensed the power in you long ago, Hazon,' Pyriel confessed, walking up to the edge of the plateau and staring towards the seemingly endless desert. Behind him, the dull and faraway sound of the volcanoes boomed across the sun-scorched heavens.

'What you did against Nihilan's sorcery…' he began, mastering his exasperation before he turned back around. 'It was nothing short of miraculous. It should not be.

You

should not be,' he said, drawing closer. 'Over four decades a Space Marine and your latent potential has only just surfaced.' He left a short pause. 'You are unique, Dak'ir. An enigma.' Pyriel turned away again, finding regarding the hellish sun easier. 'Chaplain Elysius wanted you conditioned, even branded and censured - I opposed it.'

'So what happens now?'

'

You

are to accompany me.'

'You don't need them for me to do that,' Dak'ir replied, indicating the pair of hulking Terminators that had just lumbered into view at the Librarian's bidding.

'Don't I?' Pyriel asked, facing him. 'You are a mystery, and like all mysteries a shadow of suspicion hangs over you, but I will lift it if you prove worthy.'

'And how will you know that?' Dak'ir's tone betrayed his impatience.

The Librarian's response was pragmatic. 'After your trials, if you live, you will be deemed worthy.'

'Worthy for what?'

The cerulean flash returned to Pyriel's eyes by way of dramatic gesture. 'To be trained by me,' he said.

Dak'ir heard the engines of a ship growl into life. A dust cloud was billowing from below, where the landed vessel awaited them.

'Where are you taking me, Pyriel?'

The Librarian smiled, but it did not reach his eyes. 'To the Librarius on Prometheus, and an audience with Master Vel'cona.'

T

su'gan followed a

long and rocky path of darkened coals towards a great gate. From high above, swept up in the shadows of a mountain cave, sat Iagon, watching him.

Bitterness filled the Salamander's heart. He clenched his fists tightly. 'I killed for you…' he hissed.

Iagon's dreams and plans were in tatters. He had been left behind by his would-be patron, even after the way was open for Tsu'gan's ascension. Except, he

had

ascended, but to the vaunted ranks of the Firedrakes and not the captaincy of the 3rd Company, Iagon his chief aide. Brother Praetor - Iagon resisted a pang of jealous anger - had petitioned for his promotion, impressed by Tsu'gan's actions on Scoria: his courage and battle-ethic, his leadership and prowess. The sergeant of the Firedrakes did not know the brittle tool he had inducted into his ranks. Iagon had been tempted to inform him of Tsu'gan's penchant for masochism, his destructive inner guilt, but that would be all too easy.

Hero worship had turned to hatred in Iagon's heart. He wanted Tsu'gan to pay the dearest price for betraying him.

Ascending a rocky stair, Tsu'gan entered a small amphitheatre. It was meant to be a sacred place; only the Firedrakes or those destined to become one were allowed to set foot on this part of Nocturne. Iagon cared not. He was not followed, nor seen. He had to see this.

Ominous thunder shook the open structure into which Tsu'gan had disappeared and a flash of light blazed out from it and then died as the teleporter was activated and Tsu'gan was on Nocturne no longer.

Iagon sat for a while, allowing the after-flare to fade from his vision, when he heard a pattering on the ground and thought it was rain. When he saw the pool of redness at his feet, he realised it was blood, dripping onto the ground from his clenched gauntlets. He'd seized his fists so tightly that he'd pierced them and dug into flesh.

He blinked, not seeing his own blood there for a moment, but the blood of others… Iagon tried to wipe it clean but it clung to him and spread instead.

Frantic now, slowly coming unhinged, a plaintive wail emitted from his mouth and he fled. Only one thing would calm his dark soul. It yearned within him. A single thought.

Vengeance.