around him. A fourth body lay partially hidden by the rise of the dune, having tumbled into a shallow depression in the ash. Its boots were marred with grey but glimmered green underneath.
For now ignoring Iagon, whose eyes were urging him to go to the other body, Fugis rushed to the edge of the dune and saw N'keln, his rigored faced locked in fury, lying dead below.
Distraught, the Apothecary half-dambered, half-fell to the base of the depression where the slain captain lay. He was checking for vital signs, knowing really he would find none, when the rest of the Inferno Guard arrived on the scene.
Praetor and the Firedrakes, along with Tsu'gan and some of his squad joined them. It was the veteran Terminator sergeant that broke the disbelieving silence.
'In Vulkan's name, what happened here?' A barely tempered rage affected the Firedrake's voice as he directed his questioning first at Fugis, then at Iagon.
Iagon was shaking his head, as Fugis relayed his ignorance of the heinous act to Praetor and went to the other Salamander's assistance.
'I saw them… moving through the smoke,' Iagon's reply was broken by painful pauses as Fugis worked at cauterising the terrible wound. 'Three of them, clad in stealth… and closing on the captain,' he went on. 'By the time I could reach him, N'keln was already dead. I slew two of them without reply, when my weapon ran empty and the third took my hand. I finished it with the stock, but I was too late to save him…' Iagon's voice trailed away, his head downcast.
Praetor regarded the bloodied bolter, its stock caked in gore, and the demolished face of the ork nearest the wounded Salamander. The other two carried bolter wounds, blood-slicked cleavers half-gripped in their meaty fists. Iagon's armour was spattered with dark crimson.
Grave-faced, Praetor nodded slowly and turned his back on the tragic scene. He opened a force-wide band on the comm-feed and issued a full retreat order. All he said in addition was that Brother-Captain N'keln had been incapacitated and that he was assuming full command of the mission.
D
ak'ir learned of
Captain N'keln's death sitting in the Chamber Sanctuarine of the Thunderhawk, A melancholy mood descended upon the troop hold of the gunship as the black news filtered through to all. First Kadai and now N'keln - Dak'ir wondered what fate was next for 3rd Company.
He and Pyriel had emerged onto the battlefield in a maelstrom of lightning and noise. The nauseating effects of teleportation faded swiftly faced with the immensity of the burgeoning cataclysm about to destroy Scoria. A Thunderhawk was already hovering to land nearby. Dak'ir remembered feeling slightly aggrieved that he had not had a chance to fight alongside his battle-brothers against the orks before the evacuation. But there was no time for introspection.
The boarding ramp of the
clanged open as soon as it touched down. Dak'ir, Pyriel and several others in the vicinity embarked without a word. Moments later, they were airborne and tracking across the ravaged ash desert slowly being consumed by fire.
It was only a short journey to the
Their pilot, Brother Hek'en, voxed through to the troop hold, reporting that the strike cruiser was before them on the horizon, aloft and ready to take them off the doomed world.
Muted cheers greeted this news, tempered by the earlier communication from Praetor that he had assumed command and N'keln was down. Scattered word from Salamanders still out in the field followed swiftly, confirming that their captain was actually dead.
Gazing out of the occuliport in the side of the armoured gunship, yet to assume his transport harness, Dak'ir was saddened further when he saw the ground tear apart. He imagined the inert form of Brother Gravius, lava billowing up and rolling over the ancient Salamander, swallowing him under its fiery depths. The entire world was burning, waves of magma like tsunamis cascading over the fractured surface of Scoria turning it into a gelatinous sun.
Dak'ir turned away and found Pyriel staring at him. The rest of the Salamanders had their heads bowed in remembrance. The Librarian's expression was anything but grieving. It told Dak'ir that the Epistolary was thinking about how Nihilan's sorcery should have destroyed him, but left the Salamander sergeant barely scathed. It was not possible. And it was then that Dak'ir realised it wasn't over for him, that there would be a reckoning upon their return to Nocturne.
EPILOGUE
'D
on't think of
me as a fool, Captain Vinyar…' The deep and resonant voice of Chapter Master Tu'Shan filled the vast Hall of the Firedrakes on Prometheus with its authority and power. It was an inauspicious start to their initial meeting.
Vinyar stood stock still and silent, a prudent move given that he was in the throne room of another Astartes Chapter, facing their liege lord having forced one of his dead captains into a compromise he did not approve of but had no choice but to honour.
'I know you and your troops were tracking the
the Regent of Prometheus continued. 'How else could you have heard its distress beacon and responded in such timely fashion, offering aid but only for the extortion of war materiel.'
Brother Praetor and a squad of Firedrakes looked on with barely restrained anger. The Marines Malevolent had tainted Brother-Captain N'keln's sacrifice with compromise. They had outstretched the hand of salvation in return for the arms and armour they had wished to ''liberate'' from the
Vinyar it seemed was bent on re-appropriating what he felt was his by right - a necessity for his warmongering in the Emperor's name.
If the small retinue of warriors he had brought with him, indeed, the captain himself, felt anything at this show of aggression, they, to their dubious credit, did not show it. But nor did they dare speak whilst the Salamanders Chapter Master admonished.
'I do not believe in coincidence or even providence,' he told Vinyar, leaning forward in his throne to emphasise the point. Tu'Shan lowered his voice and there was a trace of very real menace in it. 'If I thought your intention by tracking my ship was to exact some petty revenge for the
then you and I would be having a very different conversation to the one we are conducting now, brother-captain.'
A charged silence filled the Hall of the Firedrakes, Tu'Shan allowing his gaze to burn into Vinyar for a few moments before he signalled to the shadows.
A grav-sled emerged into view, lit by the fiery sconces blazing on the wall that hinted at the dozens of glorious banners lauding the deeds of the 1st Company. Apart from that, it was an austere chamber with a throne and several archways leading off into darkness.
The Marines Malevolent had followed the Salamanders all the way back to Nocturne. Vinyar's display of audacity was as bold as it was incredible when he insisted on being given an
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