‘I would not sacrifice them for answers.’
Ingethel’s jaw clicked as it trembled. Its laughter was little more than verminous chittering.
‘If I agree to this... will you harm them?’
Ingethel turned its bestial head to the side, watching the two warriors with its inhuman eyes.
The decision was not to be made lightly.
As he was wont to do, the primarch retreated into seclusion, away from the distractions of fleet management, away from the menial responsibilities that came with soldiering, and remained in the caverns beneath Cadia’s surface.
Argel Tal and Xaphen returned to their Thunderhawk at the modest landing site, finding they had much to say to one another and little will to speak it. While the Chaplain voxed a scant, vague update to the ships in orbit, Argel Tal took the task of appraising Aquillon of the situation over a secure vox-channel.
Almost an hour later, the captain descended the gang ramp, standing once more on the desolate plains, watching the sky with its shroud of rippling violet.
When Xaphen joined him at last, Argel Tal had a hard time meeting his brother’s eyes. He placed his armoured boot on one of the swollen, twelve-legged beetles that scurried over the wastelands, killing it with a moist, crackling crunch.
‘What lies did you weave for the Eyes of the Emperor?’ asked the Chaplain.
‘A long and detailed tale that tasted foul to even speak. A Cadian sect attacked us out of bitterness, and Ven was lost with Deumos, Tsar Quorel and Rikus.’
‘Did they die like heroes?’
‘Oh, undoubtedly. Songs will be sung and legends forever told of their most noble ends.’ He spat acid onto the ground.
Xaphen gave a mirthless snort, and they fell silent.
The two Astartes watched the stained sky, neither wishing to be the first to broach the next subject. Ultimately, it was Argel Tal that ventured there first.
‘We’ve split the Legion and sailed to the galaxy’s edges, only to find... this. The Old Ways of Colchis
Xaphen turned from the burning sky. ‘We have defied the Emperor to find these truths – defied the spirit of his decrees, even if we obeyed the letter of the law. Now a Custodian lies dead, and Imperial blades have shed Imperial blood. There can be no going back from this. You know what the primarch will decide.’
Argel Tal thought back to Vendatha’s words: ‘
‘It will break his heart to do it,’ the captain said, ‘but he will send us into the Eye.’
SIXTEEN
Chaos
The vessel chosen was
Her first officer took a dimmer view of her eagerness, pointing out that this was the largest, most devastating warp storm ever recorded in the history of the species. Here was an anomaly with all the force of the legendary storms that severed humanity’s worlds from one another in the centuries before the Great Crusade.
Sylamor had clicked her tongue – a habit of hers that always showed her impatience – and told him to shut up. The smile she gave him would only be considered sweet by people that didn’t know her very well.
The departure window was set for sunrise over the wastelands, which left practically no time for preparation beyond the core necessities. Grey gunships graced the
Introductions were brief. Five Astartes marched onto the bridge, and Sylamor rose from her throne to greet them. Each spoke their name and rank – one captain, one Chaplain, three sergeants – and each saluted her in turn. She responded accordingly, introducing her own command crew.
It was polite but cold, and over in a matter of minutes.
Only when the Astartes remained on the bridge did Sylamor sense a breach in decorum. Unperturbed, the
