CHAPTER FIVE
I
'W
elcome, brothers.'
T
u'
S
han's
voice echoed powerfully around the expansive docking bay, reaching every corner and commanding absolute attention. Even surrounded by the Pantheon council, some of the Chapter's finest warriors, he looked immense and forbidding. The strength and passion of Vulkan blazed in the Chapter Master's eyes, together with the primarch's wisdom and presence.
'The council has consulted the Tome of Fire, and there are tidings from its hallowed pages,' he concluded sombrely. There was no further preamble. Tu'Shan was inclined towards action, not rhetoric, and bade Elysius forward.
The Chaplain bowed curtly and advanced in front of his Chapter Master, so he would be visible to the throng of Salamanders before him.
Elysius appraised them all in silence, allowing the gravitas of the occasion to build, letting his brothers know that he was ever watchful. To show impurity of spirit before the Chaplain was dire folly. He was fond of branding and excoriation to establish a warrior's piety. Chirurgeon-interrogators, servitor drones he had modified himself, assisted him in his
Not all who entered his Reclusium came back. But to endure at the hands of Elysius meant you were above reproach… at least for a time.
He was but one Salamander. Yet without exception, every battle-brother that beheld the Chaplain then felt his presence like a brand of cold steel, just waiting to be ignited.
'
Elysius quoted. His voice carried a hard edge like the hot barbs of his confessional tools.
He scoured the faces before him intently.
Purity seals festooned the Chaplain's cobalt-black power armour. Votive chains hung from his pauldrons, plastron and gorget. They were even pinioned to his battle-helm; effigies of hammers, drakes and the Imperial eagle.
'The sky
'
These are the scriptures of the Tome of Fire, as left to us by our primarch. And in this,' he brandished the chest found on the way.'
Elysius lowered the chest and unclenched his fist.
'Galactic coordinates, buried within encrypted symbols found in the casket, speak of a stretch of space,' the Chaplain explained, his zeal traded for pragmatism. 'There, at the cusp of the Veiled Region in Segmentum Tempestus, is a system benighted by warp storms, closed off from the Emperor's light for millennia.' His eyes flashed behind his skull-faced visage. '
I need not explain the import of that.'
Murmurs of disbelief rippled around the room. Elysius did nothing to dissuade them. Rather, he seemed to revel in the growing fervour.
Dak'ir was as shocked as his battle-brothers. Had they somehow discovered the fate of Vulkan himself? That was what the Chaplain had implied. It was only supposition, but even still. Tu'Shan's face was unreadable at the potentially monumental revelation. Dak'ir had later learned that the beam of light emitted from the mountain had refracted with the dust particles from the recent eruption, creating the pseudo-celestial representation that Elysius spoke of. Certainly, the phenomenon was unprecedented. It was taken as a sign. Of a great discovery, or an imminent doom, Dak'ir was uncertain. He did know, however, that if there was even the remotest chance of finding Vulkan, or ascertaining his fate, then the Salamanders would take it.
The rest of Elysius's words were brief, and spoke of endurance and the cleansing fire of war. Zealously delivered, Dak'ir knew them all by rote. His mind was reeling with what had transpired and what was to come. When the Chaplain was done and N'keln stepped forward to address them, the brother-sergeant knew exactly what that would be.
The captain's face was stern as rock. '3rd Company, we are going to Scoria to reclaim the progenitor of our Chapter, should that be his whereabouts.' There was intensity in the brother- captain's eyes, as if he realised the import of this undertaking and the opportunity it presented to reunite the company. Dak'ir suspected Tu'Shan knew it too.
'Regardless, we go there with open minds and cautious eyes,' N'keln continued. 'All of us,' he added, nodding sagely. 'Scoria has been out of contact with the Imperium since the 31st millennium. A death world, like our own, it should provide no impediment to our mission. Deep space augurs have revealed the small system it inhabits is a volatile area, wracked by solar storms. This too,' he told them, 'we will overcome. There is no way to tell what we will find when we reach the surface. But enemies or no, we will discover why our primarch sent us there. Nor will we be alone.' N'keln gestured graciously behind him. 'Brother Praetor and his Firedrakes will accompany us.'
The veteran sergeant of 1st Company barely moved as the eyes of 3rd Company alighted upon him. He was an imperious warrior and a peerless tactician, save for the Chapter Master. Like all of the Firedrakes, he was aloof, living and training on Prometheus in the fortress-monastery. A long cape of salamander hide hung from the back of his Terminator armour, his shaven head like a hard, black bolt between the immense pauldrons. Laurels wreathed his doughty form, and a long-hafted thunder hammer was clasped in a gauntleted fist, a circular storm-shield attached to his back.
Praetor's inclusion in the mission raised certain questions. It was a great honour to serve alongside Tu'Shan's company: each one was a warrior-king, an inspiration to their battle-brothers around them. But it also threw N'keln's authority into doubt. Dak'ir was certain it would only add fuel to Tsu'gan's argument. He had lost sight of his fellow sergeant in the muster. It mattered not; Dak'ir would see him soon enough as N'keln brought the assembly to a close.
'No more words then; words will avail us nothing. Fire-born! To your gunships! The
waits to take us to Scoria.'
3rd Company donned battle-helms and disbanded at once, sergeants barking orders as they broke up into their squads and marched quickly towards the embarkation ramps of their Thunderhawks. Dak'ir rallied his Salamanders together and made for the
their own gunship. They were travelling with Brother-Captain
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