Locum Ignotum Chapter 25

The docking tower rang with the sounds of activity, the shouts of men urging each other to hurry up and the rumble of machinery. Climbing up the ramps were lines of servitor driven cargo pallets, each one loaded with a score of refugees. The squat machines trundled along on caterpillar tracks, oblivious to the urging of serf guides who were waving them to move faster. The refugees looked fearful and anxious, unsure of where they were going or what fate awaited them. Still they had heard the distant thunder of battle and none of them were willing to risk being left behind.

Half-way up the tower the Astartes waited, the surviving leaders of the Company. Captain Toran and his Command squad had been evacuated to the Apothecarion on the Thunderchild, leaving Chaplain Wrethan in charge. With him were Librarian Arvael, Honourable Ajax and Bylan, still holding the Standard in his hands. Bylan had never been more proud of his role and duty. He was in awe of the power he had seen released and he was humbled to be allowed to bear such a potent relic.

Arvael had told him that the effect of the Banner had only worked because this land was saturated with Warp energy and the foe had been Etheric in nature. He couldn't expect such a miracle to occur again anywhere else. Still it was an incredible privilege to be allowed to bear such a totem and he had renewed his vow never to let it fall so long as he drew breath.

Bylan was distracted as he heard Chaplain Wrethan mutter, "How much longer?"

Arvael commented, "We're going as fast as we can, the refugees are almost all aboard."

In the Captain's absence Bylan had been talking to the bridge crew and ventured, "+There are problems on the ship finding enough space to fit everybody, they've had to open up the holds to cram people in. Feeding all these people will be a strain; the recycling systems will be pushed to the limit+"

"A problem for later," Wrethan muttered, "If we don't get all these people on board swiftly then none of us will be departing."

Their conversation was interrupted as they heard the crump of armoured boots approaching; Bylan peered down the ramp and saw that Leanyr, Maxivus and Ganaar were climbing up towards them. Their armour purred and gaggles of serfs ran behind them, streaming past the Storm Heralds as they made their way up. Wrethan hailed them and said, "What news?"

Leanyr shrugged the mass of his Volkite Culverin to one side and said, "That's the last of the refugees, shuttles are now making one last run to pick up the serf-provosts on the ground, then the evacuation will be complete."

"Astounding," Arvael remarked, "You managed to strip two hours off your original estimate."

Leanyr didn't look particularly impressed as he said, "Would have been three, had the people not bickered so much."

Ganaar remarked, "The sounds of battle put a stop to that, once the noise hit they couldn't move fast enough."

Maxivus sniffed and said, "They weren't the only ones, you would have hared off waving that ridiculous axe had we not held you back."

Ganaar grinned and said, "I didn't volunteer to fight only to be left behind herding panicked civilians."

Wrethan ignored the bickering and said, "Once the people are on board there will be no further point remaining here, we shall cast off immediately."

Arvael's face fell and he said, "Ah… there might be a slight delay. I have to make certain preparations before we can exit this realm, there is a ritual I must perform to open the way wider."

Wrethan's skull-helm turned to glare at the Librarian and he spat, "You're only telling this us now?"

"We are about to fly a starship into a hostile Warp portal," Arvael protested, "Did you think it was going to be easy?"

Bylan felt a spark of trepidation at that. The Daemons had been driven off but they wouldn't have gone far, there was no doubt that they would return and bring the Traitors with them. Most of Third Company were wounded, many still in the Apothecarion, and the losses amongst the war machines had been heavy indeed. When the enemy came again the Storm Heralds would be in a poor state for a fight.

Bylan spoke up to say, "+We can bottle them up at the ramps, keep the foe at bay until we are ready to fall back into the ship itself+"

However Ganaar shook his head and said, "No, you should get into your skiff now."

Bylan blinked in surprise and said, "+But what of the foe?+"

Maxivus stated, "You shall have the time you require."

Bylan didn't understand and said, "+But…+"

Leanyr growled firmly, "You shall have the time."

Suddenly Bylan cottoned on to what the ancient warriors were saying and he gasped, "+You're not coming?+"

Ganaar nodded and said, "We've talked it over and decided we're not going to run. We are making our stand here."

Arvael gasped and said, "What, why would you do that?"

Ganaar grinned and said, "Have you forgotten where we are, this is where we first met and I told you then that this is our hall. This is our home and we shall die to defend it, it's as good a place as any to mark one's grave."

Wrethan shook his head and said, "This is madness, you cannot stay, Baruch would have wanted you to live."

"Baruch taught us to care for the common folk," Maxivus replied, "But at heart we were always Astartes, eternal glory calls and we cannot deny it. You cannot imagine how deeply we have wished for this, no matter how much we denied it."

Suddenly Ajax rumbled, "YOU PROPOSE SUICIDE."

Ganaar nodded and said, "Three against ten thousand, that is a saga worthy of remembrance. We shall stand upon the snow and make it red with the blood of our enemies and when we fall the skalds shall sing that all our wounds were to the fore."

Wrethan lowered his head in respect and said, "I vow that word shall be sent to Fenris; your tale will be sung in the Halls of Russ."

Bylan swallowed at the thought of these three standing before an army of Daemons, all alone and he said, "+With the best of wills you can't hold them for long, let us stand with you. A few squads of backup could give you a real chance+"

Leanyr sighed and said, "You don't understand what we are trying to say: there's no going back for us. Our age is past, there's no place in your Imperium for us. If we left what would there be for the likes of us? I've seen the records of what Terra has become; would your High Lords welcome us back with open arms or condemn us out of hand?"

Bylan lowered his head for he knew the truth. The Imperium would not accept such peculiar warriors; the Inquisition would kill them without hesitation. These warriors were unorthodox, they were aberrations and the Imperium existed to impose conformity. There would be no hero's welcome for these three.

Ajax looked down and said, "YOUR SONG WOULD BE BETTER IF THERE WERE FOUR."

Leanyr shook his head and replied, "No, this is not your fight. Your tale does not end here."

Ajax stated, "MY BROTHERS MUST LEAVE, BUT I WOULD STAND WITH YOU."

Leanyr looked up at the Dreadnought, still battered and scarred from the fighting and said, "I am sorry to say that you will not have such a swift end. You must go on, that is your curse to bear."

Ajax's voice softened as he said, "Five thousand years… how much longer must I endure?"

Bylan blinked in surprise but Leanyr stepped closer and said, "For as long as they still need you."

Ajax's voice deepened and he said, "YES, OF COURSE. I HAVE ENDURED THIS LONG, WHAT IS ANOTHER FIVE THOUSAND YEARS."

Ganaar pulled on his braided beard and said, "Do not mourn, we choose this fate freely. To die fighting against impossible odds, what more could we ask for?"

Maxivus agreed, lifting his noble head as he proclaimed, "We shall put ourselves to the test, our most deadly skills set against theirs. This shall be the culmination of all our endeavours, our final apotheosis. We shall take ourselves to the most extreme limits of what is possible and push back the boundaries of what it means to be Astartes. Such opportunities do not come very often, we must embrace this moment."

Bylan knew that this was the last time he would see these three, they would march to the noblest of ends and die well. He looked upon them and said, "+I can only wish you success and to know that you shall be remembered+"

Wrethan agreed and said, "Your names shall be entered in the Scrolls of Honour."

The three warriors exchanged bemused glances and then Ganaar stated, "I don't know what that is but from your tone it sounds far too solemn and cheerless. Merely lift a tankard of mead in remembrance of us and all will be well."

Leanyr snorted and said, "You lot are all being so dour, personally I just want to try out my Volkite. I didn't go to all the trouble of building this for nothing you know."

Bylan couldn't help but twitch his lip at that, the defiant attitude of true warriors. Then he had a thought and said, "+Your bolter is dry Ganaar, we can't have that. Jediah isn't here but I'm sure he wouldn't want you to go into battle armed only with an axe. Here take my pistol+"

Bylan held out his own bolt pistol, a more significant gesture than it looked. This was a relic of his Chapter, to offer it to another was a gesture of supreme trust and Brotherhood. Ganaar took the pistol and held it up to peer down the sight saying, "Good weight and perfect alignment, I could blow apart a few skulls with this. You have the thanks of an old Wolf."

Bylan lowered his head in respect but at that moment that was a roll of thunder, echoing down from above. Bylan instantly recognised the sound of the Thunderchild's secondary weapons firing and he knew that the enemy had been sighted. He tuned in his vox to the bridge and relayed, "+The enemy comes once more, in vast numbers. They close rapidly; we don't have much time+"

Ganaar gripped his axe and snarled, "Go now, this is our fate not yours. Fly back to your Imperium and remember us."

"You die in glory," Wrethan proclaimed, "You shall never be forgotten."

With that the Storm Heralds turned to go, marching up the ramps to follow the last of the refugees to the ship. Bylan took a step back and his gaze lingered on these three noble warriors, heroes all. He drank in the sight, searing it into his memory, etching their stern unforgiving countenances into his thoughts. What he wouldn't have given to stand with them, fighting to the end, but his path lay elsewhere. Silently he bid them goodbye and then he turned and marched away, not looking back.

Silence fell as the trio were left behind, watching until the echoes of their footsteps at last faded away to nothing. They contemplated all that had occurred and then Leanyr said, "Do you think they have any chance of making it out?"

"Of course not," Maxivus snorted, "Their daft scheme will never work."

Ganaar carefully stowed his gifted Bolt pistol on his belt and said, "Wise men listen when told that something is impossible, heroes go and do it anyway."

Leanyr rolled his one eye and said, "So how are we going to do this?"

Maxivus replied, "To maximise the time we hold them we should split up, take one level each and sow confusion and dismay."

Ganaar nodded and said, "To our posts then and await the final battle to take us into the long night. We shall not see each other again until we reach the Underverse… so any last words?"

Maxivus saluted in the old way, with his fist over his heart and said, "Children of the Emperor, death to his foes."

"Iron within," proclaimed Leanyr hefting his Volkite, "Iron without."

"Let them hear the old cries and know who they face eh?" said Ganaar smiling around his fangs then joined them saying, "Fenrys Hjolda!"