Was it a flaw? Perhaps by the standards of the Astartes, who waged war and lived life with brotherhood etched into their genetic codes. But Custodes were the sons of a more rarefied and time-consuming process – the biological manipulation that gave birth to the Emperor’s guardians bred warriors who weren’t shackled by bonds of loyalty to anyone except their Imperial overlord.
‘They’re not brothers,’ Argel Tal said. ‘Watch how they move. See how each one fights his own war, alone, unsupported by the others. They’re not like us. These are warriors, not soldiers.’
The thought made his skin crawl. It must have had the same effect on Torgal, for he voiced the words on his captain’s mind.
‘Lions,’ the sergeant said. ‘They’re lions, not wolves, hunting alone instead of as a pack. Gold,’ he added, and tapped the chestplate of his armour, ‘not grey.’
‘Good eyes, brother.’ Argel Tal still stared intently. Now he was aware of the disunity, it was all he could focus on. Here was a weakness, a savage one, masked only by the heroic skills of each warrior and the worthlessness of the enemies they faced.
A ripple of unease shivered through him as he bore witness. Those ancient words of the Emperor came to him, that first creed of the Legiones Astartes:
Argel Tal was one of those who took the creed in its most literal sense, believing the sensitivity to feel fear was rewritten out of him at the genetic level. But even so, watching these brotherless cousins fight chilled him to his core. They lacked so much, despite their individual perfection.
‘In standing free of brotherhood,’ he said, ‘they also sacrifice its strengths. The tactics of a pack. The trust in those who fight by your side. I suspect the secrets woven into their body and blood gene-bind them to a higher loyalty – perhaps their only brother is the Emperor himself.’
Torgal was as perceptive as ever. ‘You no longer admire them,’ he said. ‘I hear it in your voice.’
Argel Tal smiled, choosing to let his silence answer for him.
Beneath them, the Custodians fought on. ‘That looks like trouble,’ one of the assault squad gestured down the road. They watched as a glass construct stalked into the avenue from a side street, and began to make its way down the thoroughfare towards the golden warriors.
Now Argel Tal rose to his feet. ‘Come, brothers. Let’s see how the wolves hunt with the lions.’
‘By your word,’ they chorused in perfect unity, and ten sets of thrusters howled as one.
Aquillon’s greeting was cautious. He made the sign of the aquila across his breastplate, where the Emperor’s two-headed eagle symbol was already in ornate evidence.
‘Hail, captain.’
Argel Tal returned the salute, crashing a fist against his chestpiece over his heart – the sign of Imperial allegiance in the Terran Unification Wars.
‘Custodian. A pleasure to be of service,’ Argel Tal gestured one of his blades at the ruined construct. It lay dead in the road, cut and battered, surrounded by slain militia.
‘A curious greeting, captain, to use a salute that fell out of favour before the Great Crusade even began.’
The Word Bearers formed up behind and around Argel Tal, just as the Custodians came to Aquillon’s side. It wasn’t quite a standoff, but none of the warriors were blind to the spectre of tension between them.
Argel Tal didn’t rise to the bait. ‘You seemed to need the help. I’m just glad we were here to assist you.’
Aquillon chuckled and walked away, saying nothing more. The Custodes formed up in imprecise formation and marched ahead. Evidently, their leader wasn’t rising to any bait, either.
‘Sir?’ asked Torgal. ‘Should we go with them?’
Argel Tal was smiling despite himself.
‘Yes. For what little there is left to do, we’ll fight with them.’
By dawn, the glass city’s death-throes were over.
The place chosen for the Legion’s gathering was expansive out of necessity, but still deep within the urban sprawl. Crystal towers, purged of life by the Terminator elite, stood unburned around an immense park. The earth was soon churned to mud under the grinding treads of tanks and the boots of a hundred thousand Astartes. The park itself reached for kilometres in all directions. In better times, it had served as a place of peace and celebration for the people of the city; now it was being used to celebrate their annihilation, and Argel Tal found a quiet pleasure in that little slice of irony.
Seventh Company trickled in – not first, but far from last – and took their appointed places. Xi-Nu 73 and his four robotic warriors knew their place, and made no attempt to approach the assembling rows of Word Bearers. The captain and his squad leaders bid the tech-adept farewell at the edges of the Legion’s formation, and the last sight Argel Tal had of the Mechanicum priest was with
While they stood separate from the Astartes, they were far from alone. Carthage Cohort was comprised of dozens of maniples, of which Xi-Nu’s four wards were just one. It looked as though many advancing squads had summoned aid from the Legio Cybernetica forces allied to the XVII Legion, for over a hundred robots stood proud in their black and scarlet livery.
A few rare units had oath parchments and scrolls of scripture bound to their armour plating, marking them as particularly accomplished in battle. These robots, from a variety of classes and designs, were enrolled in the
Aquillon and the Custodians broke away as Argel Tal and his brothers began to form ranks.
