They moved quietly through the rocks, the hillside was littered with them, like a massive mountain had been obliterated in ages past, and the white rocks that made it up still jut out the ground where they fell. The Scout Sergeant and squad crept cautiously from rock to rock, keeping their spacing, going from cover to cover, as they had been for many miles.
"Sergeant Furtum, I think we're lost." They'd stopped, gathering round the initiate brandishing a paper map and an auspex reader.
Furtum's reply was gruff. "We're not lost, we're scouting the Northern Ridge for xenos, and this is the Northern Ridge." The veteran was scanning the terrain with a set of omni-oculars, holding his Stalker pattern Bolter in his other hand. What he saw next however, made him do a double take. "Cover, hide!"
The initiates responded immediately, dashing behind the chalk white rocks, from a flat angle they were undetectable, their cameoline cloaks hiding activating and hiding them from even direct sight. Furtum raised himself up returning the omni-oculars to his eyes. "Chaos Marines?" The adolescent carrying the long range Vox unit unhitched the transceiver, Furtum stalled the Scout's movements. "No!" He lowered the young man's hand. "They might catch the signal."
He saw three foes in all, at the entrance to a darkened cave, the two either side of the opening appeared to be guarding it, it was their horned helmets he had seen. The middle one appeared to be giving them orders, he zoomed in on him. Not much was apparent, he wore a black cloak that obscured much, and was un-helmeted, but a shot was non-viable due to the backpack, though he was definitely Astartes, given the height and outlines of armour beneath the concealing cloak. Furtum caught a glimpse of black armour, but thought little of it, the other two wore a similar colour. Any more scrutiny was cut off as the figure was swallowed by the deeper shadows of the cave mouth. Furtum returned his attention to the other two, tactical marines, dark blue, almost black armour, armed with bolters, and vicious looking knives.
They had to report back, but they couldn't vox, it may be detected, and if the left the forces of Chaos would be able to do Emperor knows what in the meantime. Their first course of action must be the same regardless. "There's two, approach quietly." Furtum continued in hand signals, directing his squad to the attack.
They'd got closer without detection, arraying themselves with a clear line of fire from the entrance, but not directly opposite so they were clear of any return fire. The traitors were lined up, oblivious to death hiding in the rocks ahead of them. Furtum counted down. "Fire." Two silenced shots speared forth as one, both Chaos Marines dropping dead in an instant. The scout squad froze, waiting for either return fire, or for an alarm to be raised. When none came they advanced under their Sergeant's orders.
"Hold here." The squad halted at the cave mouth. "Whetherby, give me that shotgun." The Sergeant unsheathed the Mark II Chainsword from his back, and handed his Stalker Bolter to the initiate with the vox unit, taking possession of the Scout's combat shotgun. "I'm going into the cave, three of you stay here, start voxing for reinforcements, give them our position and request extraction." The Scouts nodded. "Do not interfere with the bodies." The Sergeant motioned to the dead heretics. "I suspect vox transmissions will be blocked by the cave, hold here until relieved." Furtum nodded, satisfied with them. "Callarus, come with me, you're the best shot."
One of the Scouts carrying a sniper rifle answered. "Yes Sergeant." He offered another scout the rifle in exchange for the Initiate's bolter.
"No, keep it, we don't know for sure what's in there." Furtum put paid to the Scouts actions, and started into the cave, followed by the marksman.
The three remaining initiates took up concealed positions near the cave-mouth, digging in. "Looks like I'll actually get to use this." Quipped the Initiate that Callarus had tried to trade with, unslinging a Scout Heavy Bolter from his back, and loading it with a box of shells while the Vox-man began his transmission.
"This is Dark Angels Scout squad Furtum transmitting, have sighted and engaged elements of the Ruinous powers, requesting immediate reinforcement at coordinates…" Callarus didn't catch the rest as he and the Sergeant continued on, deeper into the cave and out of earshot.
"D'you think we can beat Chaos Marines Sarge?" The Young man asked the Sergeant. "We're just Scouts."
"The ones at the cave entrance did easy enough didn't they Initiate?" The Sergeant stowed the shotgun on his back, and drew his pistol. "And be mindful of your use of contracted words, lax speech is lax discipline, to ascend to join our battle brothers you must first aspire to them."
"Yes Sergeant."
They followed the cave as it went deeper, walking silently as they pursued the alpha heretic. There were lumen-globes placed in intervals along the cave, presumably by the Chaos Marines, temporary illumination that cast concealing shadows when combined with the hollowed out walls of the cave. They crept carefully, though no traps seemed to have been laid for them, meaning that despite stationing guards at the entrance, the Ruinous Powers were not expecting any interruptions.
The cavern they came to was brightly lit, and sunken into the floor so that the tunnel they had come through lowered to the floor with a sloping path along the curved wall to the right. With a hand signal, the Sergeant and Initiate took cover behind some stalagmites at the top of the sloping path, providing them with a view of the 'room' without the danger of being seen.
There were Chaos Marines everywhere in the room, Furtum held up seven fingers to Callarus, who nodded, seven hostiles. Two were directly below them, Callarus could see their horned helmets, Furtum snapped Callarus' attention to the far side of the room, where the majority of the foes were gathered in a clump of five, Callarus' eyes widened as he saw what had to be the leader, a pallid, scarred face decorated with a needle-tooth filled mouth and blank white eyes glared disdainfully up at something to their left.
The Sergeant followed the Champion's gaze to the top of a large mound in the centre of the room, at the top of the roughly conical formation was a pedestal, a pedestal with a glittering sword hilt sticking from it, but that wasn't what the traitor was looking at, it was the Marine they had followed, alpha heretic. He was just as the sergeant had seen at the cave-mouth, only now he saw that the heretic had truly black armour and other apparel, onyx black Obsidian black. The Sergeant's eyes widened slightly, casting a glance to the scout to make sure he hadn't seen, Furtum caught himself wishing the traitor would turn around from his position midway up the mound, so the Sergeant could be sure of his suspicion.
"Insurrectionist, cease your dawdling and get on with it, or I may entertain myself by severing your head from your neck!" The Champion's harsh voice grated against the Scout's eardrums, directed at the Marine up the slope, swiftly being advanced on by the impatient Chaos Marine. "The Emperor's first are here and I want to get to the slaughter!"
The Black armoured marine 'Insurrectionist' didn't move, seemingly not even acknowledging that the Chaos Marine had spoken. This only seemed to incense the Aspiring Champion further, his rage growing along with his pace, reaching out to grab the his tormentor.
The two scouts had trouble tracking what happened next with their eyes, the fallen turned like lightening, slapping the Chaos Marine's hand away before grabbing him by the garget and yanking him closer and off balance. "You are here because I said I could overthrow the Imperium, and your gods saw fit to support me." He fixed the Aspiring Champion with a glare. "So far as to say they sent you here to keep notoriety far from your grasp for your incompetence." He released the Champion and shoved him away, turning towards the scouts and walking away, turning his back on the Champion.
"Keep your bead on the Champion." The order was gruff, and quiet, Callarus followed the order, ignoring the black armoured marine in favour of the snaggle-toothed traitor squad leader. The Sergeant muttered fitfully to himself, the only word Callarus caught was "-Bastard!" Callarus watched as the Champion snarled impotently, before grunting and gesturing towards the pedestal. Two Chaos marines stomped up towards the pedestal in response.
Furtum watched the Black armoured heretic as he smiled smugly, examining the plinth. The Marine was the relic of a dark and bygone age, an age that, when Furtum had been informed of by the inner circle, had shaken him to his core, he had vowed, just as hundreds had before him, to hunt the perpetrators into oblivion, and here was one of them, standing before him. 'Fallen' he wondered what his name was, so it may be added to the book of salvation. The Scout shifted beside him, 'he must not know yet, if he finds out while he is this young it could shake his faith, and turn his mind to madness.'
The two Traitor Marines passed the black armoured 'Insurrectionist', on their way to collect the prize of the venture, apparently that sword. Their pace was methodical to Callarus, 'stomp, stomp, stomp, stomp.' What happened next was so sudden that both scouts tensed.
Five steps short of the plinth was as far as the Chaos Marines got, as their boots hit the stone below them a blinding beam of light, originating from the plinth slammed them off their feet, sending two tonnes of Traitor Astartes flying off the slope with an ear-splitting bang.
The stink of ozone lingered in the air, as everyone seemed frozen in shock. "By the circle…" Furtum uttered in a harsh whisper.
"Hm…as I expected." Insurrectionist said nonchalantly, he was looking towards the pedestal, seemingly undeterred, or uncaring, that two of his helpers had been flash fried.
"WHAT IN THE WARP ARE YOU DOING!?" The Chamion thundered as a traitor marine checked the two still bodies, before shaking his head, the three others just laughed.
"Worry not, I have the means to get past the trap." Continued the black armoured marine, although mostly to himself, seemingly ignoring the Champion.
"THEN WHY DIDN'T YOU USE IT BEFORE SENDING MY MEN IN!?"
The Insurrectionist turned, coolly regarding the frothing Champion. "I did not send your Astartes in, you did, besides, I needed test subjects." He shrugged, as if that settled the matter.
The Champions demeanour turned murderous, or at least moreso. "If you were not useful to the gods…"
"Then you and your squad would have been sent on some other assignment that guaranteed your death to please the Blood God, as that is the only other thing you are useful for." The dark Marine's words seemed to stymie the Champion, who turned away, Insurrectionist turned back to the pedestal, drawing an amulet from a pouch on his belt, and advanced towards the plinth and it's treasure.
"He must not get that sword." Furtum stated matter-of-factly. "Stanby." Callarus tightened up his sights on the raging Champion's forehead. Furtum drew the shotgun from his back, now holding it in his left hand, with his chainsword in his right, "I'm going to make a break for Insurrectuionist, cover me." There were still two Chaos Marines directly below where the scouts lay, and another two over with the Aspiring Champion, plus the ultimate goal of Insurrectionist himself. Insurrectionist grabbed the hilt of the sword, and tugged it out of the stone. "Now."
The rifle jerked against Callarus' shoulder as an armour piercing bullet coughed towards the Chaos squad leader, Callarus watched through the scope as the bullet speared through the traitor's helmet-less head and lodged in the power pack for his armour. In the same instant the Sergeant leapt from his position and down on the Chaos Marines below, holding his chainsword in a reversed grip, he plunged it up to the hilt of one traitor, simultaneously slamming the muzzle of the shotgun into the head of the other, and unleashing both barrels. At such close range the pellets from the barrels had no room to spread out, and so hit the foe as one solid mass, penetrating the horned helmet and pulping the head beneath.
The Aspiring Champion fell to his knees at the same time the sergeant hit the cave floor with the two new corpses, behind Furtum the sniper rifle continued to cough. He was already in motion, running for the slope and the alerted Fallen, throwing his shotgun up, catching it by the fore-grip and pumping his arm, chambering two knew rounds, and at the same time spinning his chainsword into a forward grip. The Aspiring Champion's corpse hit the ground.
As soon as Callarus had worked the bolt on the rifle after shooting the Champion, his aim shifted to the insurrectionist, his mind barely registering the other two traitors diving for cover, fearing an ambush of greater numbers. The crosshairs aligned on the target's left hand, holding the ornate sword, the rifle kicked again, the bullet severed two of the Marine's fingers, sending the sword spinning out of his grip to land in the space between Callarus and the two remaining Chaos Marines. As Callarus worked the bolt once more, Insurrectionist brought up a bolt pistol to ventilate the charging scout sergeant. Callarus squeezed the trigger again, knocking the bolt pistol away, this time Callarus saw the traitor's mangled left hand raise, his remaining fingers curling into a fist. Callarus saw two cold grey eyes through the scope, and two blue laser sights extend from the gauntlet.
Callarus knew what was coming, his body coiled and then sprang, rolling him off the vantage and to the cave floor, while mono-molecular filaments riddled the place he had occupied milliseconds prior. Callarus gasped as the breath was knocked from him, but he was alive to curse the invention of digital weaponry. He hurried to get to his feet, trying to move from his position before his assailant could re-acquire him.
"IN THE LION'S NAME!" Callarus needn't have worried, as Furtum had reached his target, roaring from the depth of his throat, and still running, he brought up the shotgun on-handed, caring little for the injury it could cause him. The Traitor had other ideas, like lightning he drew his own chainsword, slamming the shotgun aside, the fire-arm discharged uselessly to the side and spun out of the Sergeant's grip. Then Furtum was on his prey, still roaring like an animal as the molecular teeth of the combatants blades grated off of one another in showers of sparks.
"The Sword you morons!" The Insurrectionist snarled. "Get the sword!" The Sergeant was making a nuisance of himself, while the larger foe had strength and weight on his side, the Scout sergeant was smaller, and could make himself insufferably hard to hit, even at such close range.
Callarus looked away from the fight, a to the two other Chaos Marines, they were up, and running towards Callarus. Callarus saw the softly glowing sword, a rapier, on the ground between him and them, he was closer, he had to get there first.
He sprang to his feet and sprinted for the blade, the two traitor marines saw this and raised their bolters, Callarus yanked the silenced Bolt Pistol from it's palce on his belt and kicked his own feet forward, dropping to a sliding skid along the floor just as they fired. The bolts flew over his head as he took aim, still skidding. 'pfft' Callarus' first snapshot found a home through the left hand traitor Marine's left eye-lense, the mass-reactive round detonating in the foes brain matter.
"RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAGH!" The remaining Chaos Marine surged forward, enraged at the death of his companion to a lucky shot from a weakling. Callarus didn't bother to aim this time, emptying the remaining round into the charging marine, penetrating the flexible abdominal armour at such close range, each round further mulching the marine's organs, yet still the marine came on, bloodlust overriding even death. Callarus' slide ended when his foot came in contact with the sword, and he dived for it as the giant closed, his hand wrapping around the grip.
Time froze.
Power surged up his arm and straight into his brain, making him feel as if someone had hooked a Plasma generator to his temples, and colours flared in his vision. He wanted to scream, but nothing in his body would respond to anything his brain was sending out, his vision swam out of focus completely forcing him to jam his eyes shut against it, he was greeted, not by the back of his eye-lids, but instead a mass of nonsensical colour. He felt something touch his mind.
Not just his mind, his consciousness, he felt it regard him for a moment, his mind reeled, treacherous fear welled up in him, thinking he was dealing with some kind of Warp entity within a cursed sword. The Entiry, whatever it was, seemed to retract slightly, and soothed him, soothed him, Callarus was shocked within himself as the presence continued to regard him, he wondered what it could be.
He sensed a benevolence within it, something that was infinitely knowledgeable, and wise, the vision before him changed, a mirriad of swirling rainbows, ever-changing colours, and pinkish purple expanses passed in his minds eye as hate, fear and revulsion flowed through him. The colours began to make him feel dizzy and sick, the colours blended into a miasma that overwhelmed his eyes and stomach, making him want to throw up, it was shear entropy.
Chaos
The being showed him visions from his own memory, lessons from the instructors and librarians on the dangers of Chaos, Cultists he had encountered with his Sergeant and his squad on another world, even the Chaos Marines Callarus himself had slain mere moments prior.
The view changed, it now showed him different colours, but this time they remained still, not mixing, they stayed distinct, and even seemed to be making the lines between them more distinct, instead of random wavy edges to the masses of colour, the were squaring up. What was left was a neat set of colours in their own exactly defined area, still touching the others, but completely unmixed, with even, straight edges between them. Order, Unity…
Harmony.
The word came to him as a whisper, but it was more solid than the thickest adamantium, visions of Loyalist Space marines, guard, and even Xenos that fought Chaos swam before him as the word was repeated over again in his mind, ending in a shout in his subconscious. 'It hates Chaos' Callarus saw that whatever the origins of this sword, or the thing currently linked to his mind, he had nothing to fear from either. The Being retreated from Callarus' mind, and he felt the grip go warm in his hand.
He opened his eyes.
The Chaos Marine was the first to meet his eyes, he was dead, and had fallen short of Callarus, instead his horns lay over the top of the sword, his sword. He quickly it out from under the horned helmet 'a power sword?', the entire thing was huge to him, the sword was meant for a full astartes to wield, the grip dwarfed Callarus' hand, yet it felt unnaturally light, it's stout blade extending far in front of him.
Immediately the sound of battle came to him, the Sergeant was still embattled against a full Space Marine, and, even though it appeared only scant seconds had passed, the Sergeant was losing ground against his assailant. "Callarus!" The Sergeant shouted, Callarus wasn't sure if it was to get his attention or give him an order, as Callarus watched, the sergeant leapt back away from a horizontal sweep by Insurrectionist, but the sweep reached too far, and the jump was too late.
Blood sprayed as the tip of the traitor's chainsword caught Furtum in the gut, the sergeant's momentum carrying him back to slam into the pedestal. Callarus watched, horrified, as the Sergeant slumped to the floor, beaten, and the traitor loomed over him. "You clearly know who I am, so I will leave you with the knowledge that all that you know dies with you, an end, to all I despise."
Callarus felt rage grip him, he started up the slope at a run, he felt the thing within the sword with him again, but it didn't invade, it was just there, with a level of sentience only fabled to the swords of great Imperial heroes.
Furtum was spent, he looked grimly at the traitor above him, doing his best to blast that smug look off the Fallen bastard's face with his glare alone. "Get on with it, you won't get off this planet alive." Furtum thought of grabbing his chainsword and striking, but his energy was gone, his strength leaving him with the blood leaking out of his abdomen.
"Goodbye blind whelp." The Fallen, Insurrectionist, raised his chainsword to finish Furtum.
The only warning Furtum or the Fallen got was shout of righteous fury before a long, two inch wide, glittering power blade burst from the Fallen's chest. With a shout of pain the traitor fell, useless legs folding beneath the armoured bulk of their owner with a severed spinal cord, and the chainsword fell from a grasp that was instead turned to the blade that had inflicted the crippling wound.
The Fallen aspirated blood from receiving the twin holes in the lining of his stomach, and a head popped into Furtum's view from behind the Fallen. "Callarus? You're alive boy!" The Sergeant gave a pained smile. "I wasn't so sure after I saw those other two come after you, always knew you were a good marksman."
Callarus nodded to the sergeant. "I'll get you out of here Sergeant." The sword moved back an inch as the initiate tugged.
"No." The traitor kept a hold on the blade, even as the disruption field cut his gauntlets, if the sword was withdrawn he'd bleed out.
"Don't listen to him Callarus, the words he speaks are lies, he even betrays his own kind."
With one final tug, and another "No!" the sword came free, blood leaked out of the holes it had left in the back and front of the Space Marine.
The formerly impaled marine fell forwards with a groan. "Wait." Callarus paused midway through deciding whether to wound the full marine again, or go straight for Furtum and evacuate. "It spoke to you, didn't it?" Callarus froze. "It chose you, didn't it?" Both questions were rhetorical, but it made Callarus stop, he raised the rapier's point to the larger Marine's throat. "It matters little, the process is merely to ensure that the wielder hasn't been touched by the Warp." The Traitor Marine relaxed, and lay further back.
"Why would you tell me this?" The initiate knew well enough that Chaos frequently lied, even when they though themselves truthful.
"I want the sword's true wielder to know exactly what he is holding." The Traitor smiled out of blood-stained teeth. "A long time ago, I was betrayed by the Chaos Gods, I wanted the sword so they'd never leave me again. Before I elaborate, give me your name"
Callarus didn't lower his guard, silently waiting while the traitor regained his breath. The Sergeant, on the other hand, remained silent to listen to what the Fallen sought.
"The Sword is poison to the spawn of the Warp, the blade purifies anything it touches." The traitor coughed, blood leaking from his mouth. "A power even older than that blasted liar on his gilded cesspit."
Callarus snapped back, unconvinced. "Slandering the Emperor won't help your case heretic."
The blasphemer below him sniggered. "You won't listen to a heretic, will you Initiate?" "Well how about a fellow Dark Angel?" Insurrectionist moved faster than Callarus could track with his eyes, not attacking, but tearing a trip of Black cloth from his shoulder pauldron.
"No!" Callarus stared in disbelief as he and the Sergeant cried out at the same time, Callarus in denial of the evidence of his eyes, and Furtum in a vain attempt to avert the knowledge now revealed to the young Initiate.
Insurrectionist roared with laughter at the horrified look of confused betrayal of the Scout's face. "What's the matter whelp, thought the chapter unshakable?" He gave another bark of laughter. "Everything you know is a lie, the Dark Angels hail from the darkest pits of heresy, Lion 'El Johnson betrayed us! His own children!" He ended with a snarl. "Now how are your heroes whelp?! All Angels fall eventually." The traitor, the usurper, the Fallen roared with laughter once again, horrible mocking laughter.
It wasn't true, it couldn't be, members of the chapter from the time of the Heresy, traitors? Callarus couldn't think, the traitor laughed too loudly. The full impact hit Callarus like a drop pod without landing thrusters and airbrakes, this was one of them, who'd betrayed the chapter, betrayed the Imperium, killed thousands, wounded the Emperor, mortally wounded humanity.
"AAH!" Callarus lunged, ending the traitor's laughter with a hacking cough as the blade pierced a lung and the primary heart, the traitor had minutes to live.
Insurrectionist smiled. "No interrogator Chaplains for me." He said almost gleefully. He sobered, and looked hard at Callarus. "You bested me, and you have the sword, I wasn't mad, I had my mind, so I'll say this. It's Nice work you did." The traitor slumped. "You're gonna go far kid." The traitor's head lolled to the side, he was dead.
Two minutes later Callarus and Furtum stumbled out of the cave, Callarus supporting the gravely wounded Sergeant with his right arm, his left held the power-rapier by the blade, just above the grip, pointing behind him. As they both emerged into the sunlight, they were greeted by the sight of their shocked squadmates, and of the mighty Thunderhawk hovering above them, a bone white leviathan in terminator armour standing in the lowered troop-ramp.
"What did you determine?" The question was directed at the silent giant int white robes that had just strode into the darkened room.
After a moment of silently regarding the speaker with his robotic eye, Ezekiel, Grand Master of Librarians spoke. "There is no taint Supreme Grand Master." Another pause. "In him, or the sword."
Azrael, Supreme Grand Master of the Dark Angels chapter, looked down at the sleeping form of the Scout, Callius J. Callarus, still clutching the rapier to him, even as he snoozed in his bunk. "Good, Veteran Sergeant Furtum's account is remarkable, killed three Chaos Marines, including an Aspiring Champion, and then blindsided a supposedly unsurpassable foe, with the very weapon the filth coveted." A smile crept onto Azrael's face. "It seems arrogance really can be fatal."
Ezekiel remained still, but replied. "The Sergeant's wound was more grievous than previously thought, he has been interred in a Dreadnought, though when he awoke, he remarked to thank the Initiate for his life."
Azrael mulled over the information. "For such a young brother to have overcome such odds, more than could be asked of many battle brothers, he has more than earned his place in the chapter." Ezekiel nodded his assent. "To have lived through such an experience, and remained pure…" Azrael left the sentence unfinished.
They both nodded and spoke. "Columba"
END