Nothing But a List of Names to Mark His Ascension

Chapter 35: Desert Winds Part 1

Note: I do not own Warhammer 40,000 or Dawn of War, I am simply writing a different perspective to the events portrayed.

Kneeling in front of the Monument of Sin's brass throne, the Prodigal Son Bercastle alternated his gaze between his lord and the steaming rivets at his feet. The Lash of the Black Legion slouched on his throne, ever garbed in his ancient terminator armor. Araghast lounged, leaning against his fist as he glared at the sorcerer before him. Vapor rising from below hung over his head, creating a mask of heat and steam around the chaos lord. The dim red light reflected coldly off of his armor's gold trim. Above the brass throne, gears built into the wall turned noisily, growling deep like a beast. The sound permeated the bridge, smothering everything else, and Bercastle had only now realized the cause. He had become accustomed to the overbearing noise.

Finally, the Lord of the Monument of Sin spoke, cutting through the disrupting sounds of the gears. "How goes the invasion of Meridian?"

Bercastle cringed at the sound of his voice. "They are going well, you could say. Neroth's protégé Crowley and the Greatly Blessed Aleister have begun the invasion in force. The Greatly Blessed has assumed control over the portal system, and native resistance has been quashed."

Araghast hummed his assent. "And what of enemy reinforcements? Will the Hammer of the False Emperor strike Spire Legis anew?"

"Crowley believes that his numbers are sufficient to deal with any other reinforcements."

Araghast slowly nodded and sat up straight. Bercastle looked into the eyes of his lord. Beneath the immovable helm, thin eyes glowed red. Augmetic or ethereal in nature, Bercastle did not know, but they drilled into his very soul unblinkingly.

Bercastle made to stand, but was stopped in his tracks by the sound of Araghast speaking again. "And what of you, Sorcerer?" he said.

"My Lord?" replied Bercastle, a hint of apprehension in his normally cool voice.

"Do you think you can simply skulk around with that false priest and think I would not notice?" Araghast's voice began to rise, and Bercastle's hearts began to race. Damage control was needed. He could not let Araghast become angry at him, even if he had pledged service to Eliphas.

"My Lord," he began. "Surely you do not believe that I would truck with such a man. I am ever in service to you."

Araghast laughed. It was a deep, grating noise that was mixed with the inherent evil present in his voice. The subliminal screaming that accompanied his voice had turned to nearly audible shrieks of agony. "Do you honestly believe that I am blind? Eliphas' movements are not alien to me."

"My lord, I swear to you that I am loyal. Please give me a way to prove this to you."

Araghast nodded. "I hoped you would say that. I happen to have a task prepared."

Bercastle looked up eagerly. "Tell me Lord Araghast. I will do what you ask."

Araghast stood and walked past Bercastle's kneeling form. He stood on the terrace overlooking the rest of the bridge. With his arms behind clasped behind his back, Araghast said, "We must show the mongrels that oppose us that we can strike anywhere and everywhere."

"Only a few places are beyond my eyes Lord Araghast. I will open a portal if it is within my power."

"You will not only open a portal, Sorcerer, you will lead the assault."

Bercastle suspected as much. "To where?"

"The world of Calderis has long been a recruiting center for the Blood Ravens. One of their ships hangs over the world now, and Neroth tells me that more will be arriving within a few days. You will strike Calderis. Show them that the reach of Araghast the Pillager is long indeed. I will leave the actual battle plans for you to devise."

Bercastle looked up at Araghast. The Chaos lord had not turned, nor did it seem like he would any time soon. Without a word, Bercastle stood. He called his bedlam staff to his hand without a word, and departed the bridge.

"Understood Priam. Continue with your current objective. If more distress signals are uncovered, contact me again."

Gabriel Angelos returned the vox unit to its slot, and stepped back to his command chair. He sat, and was attended to by Sergeant Corallis. He passed Captain Angelos a dataslate, outlining events in the system. He skimmed through it, looking for anything out of the ordinary. Right now, the 3rd Company was waiting to rendezvous with the 4th. As far as Angelos knew, they were en route from Meridian. This left the 3rd Company without much to do. While most of the Astartes remained on board, Angelos decided to dispatch Sergeant Priam and some of his initiates on a training mission. They would patrol deserts in the Southern Calderan Badlands. Orks still remained from the battles a year before, and villages were still being threatened.

"Captain, what did Sergeant Priam just report?"

Angelos looked up at Corallis and said, "Sergeant Priam discovered a short range Blood Raven distress signal during one of his patrols."

Corallis' eyes widened. "You do not mean from the Tyranid War?"

"The very same," nodded Angelos. "He reported it to me and placed a beacon for later recovery."

Corallis clenched his augmetic fist. "Praise the Emperor. Any gene-seed that we can recover is a blessing."

"Yes," agreed Angelos. "Unfortunately, the first distress signal was simply a relic cache. Someone must have left it however. Perhaps those brothers are still alive. If not, it is as you say, we will recover our fallen."

"Very well," said Corallis. "Is there anything urgent on that report, Captain? I did not read it myself."

"No. Nothing on this slate points to any Chaos influence in this system. However, we cannot be complacent. The 3rd Company will remain vigilant."

Corallis nodded stiffly and made the sign of the Aquila. "If that is the case, I will depart. My squad and I would have our daily assembly."

"Very well," said Angelos. He dismissed Corallis with a swift hand gesture. He slipped into thought and his already wrinkled brow furrowed. How many Vandis traitors were out there? Would the combined forces of the 3rd and 4th Company be able to stop them? Where was their leader? These questions and more rippled through the Captain's skull, yet he could come up with no answers. He could only wait for the arrival of the 4th Company in system, long overdue.

Alone in his quarters, Nikephoros examined his bolter with deft hands and thin eyes. He sat cross legged on the metal floor, enjoying the feeling of the cold plasteel on his bare legs. His white hair shifted a bit in the slight breeze from the circulating atmosphere. He had performed this ritual every cycle since he had first discovered the bolter on Aurelia. His surprise had turned to apprehension when he had recognized his old weapon, lost on Typhon. Now his apprehension was becoming revulsion and terror.

He silently assembled the weapon after cleaning it thoroughly. After the last piece snapped into place, he turned his weapon over in his hands, searching for the abnormality that he knew he would find. His eye first fell on the smudge of black. He had discovered this blemish first, the day he had found the bolter laying on fresh Aurelian snow. Next, the scratches. The handle of the weapon was scored, as though scrapped by a strange claw. This had appeared two days before, after the drop that saw Borian killed. Finally, he saw the new mark on his weapon. The muzzle of the weapon was marked with a spider web of lines. He would have never seen them had he not actually been searching. The lines stretched half an inch from the tip of the barrel, turning at right angles and never intersecting with another.

Nikephoros sighed deeply and set his bolter down on the floor next to his cot. It was barely noticeable from more than a yard away, and he doubted it would quickly come to the attention of his brothers. Automemos was dead now, and Nikephoros could no longer confide in him. Codicier Orion was an outsider. Could he be trusted with this kind of information? With his mind clouded in doubt, Nikephoros turned to prayer. He crawled to the small shrine in the corner of his room. He reached into the small wooden cabinet, past the ivory statue of the Emperor Ascendant, and drew out his tattered prayer book. Flipped through the yellow pages, rife with dog ears, he settled upon a prayer for forgiveness and request for guidance.

He licked his cracked lips, and with a hoarse voice, began. "Lord Emperor, dear to us all, guide to Astartes and God to man, I seek your forgiveness and guidance. Just as a father scolds and advises his child, advise me now. I stand at a crossroads, and require your aid. Grant to me the will to proceed forward, in your name and in the name of the Primarchs, together in their glory…"

Cculan's lance sped towards Arcadia's head. No human eye would ever be able to track it, but to a Howling Banshee of Biel-Tan, it was easily dealt with. She leaned backwards, ducking under the blade as her body moved forward, under the Avenger's guard. As she passed, she lashed out with her power sword. In response, Cculan leapt back, jumping a whole ten feet. He spun his lance around his body, trying to confuse and disorient his opponent. While he was a Dire Avenger at heart, he was not known as the Blue Lance of Ulthwé for nothing. Eight feet of red wraithbone and capped with a foot long, double edged blade, his lance was more like a glaive. He could slash and pierce with the point as well as slam and bludgeon with the counterweight.

There was a pause in their battle. In the dim blue light of the Craftworld assembly ground, the two combatants stared at each other. The air was cool, and shifted occasionally with a slight breeze even though they were deep underground. The sound of every breath and footstep echoed off of the statues and arches around them. Both were helmetless, and were sweating heavily.

"A wondrous idea was this," said Cculan. His smiled savagely. He was normally so calm in combat, but that was only when he held an Avenger catapult in his hand. When he felt the rush of close combat and heard the cries of death up close, his inhibitions melted away and the spirits that shared his armor ignited into an uncontrollable bloodlust. Though his smile split his face in two, and his multicolored hair fanned out behind him in loose ties, his eyes were lidded and blank.

"I had never thought you so skilled Exarch," replied Arcadia. The duel had been her idea in the first place. She held her power sword loosely in her right hand, almost carelessly spinning it end over end. "I am truly glad we arranged this."

With that, their short conversation ended. Arcadia tried to close once more, but found herself blocked by an impenetrable wall of lance swings. No matter where she moved, a flash of red and silver delayed her. They were not even attacks, just a result of Cculan twisting the lance around his own body. With every step the Exarch took, Arcadia found herself taking two back. Then the pattern changed. Every few swings, a thrust would come her way. She twisted to the left and right, never blocking, always avoiding. Taking a hit on her blade would leave her open to a quick counter attack, though it should be the opposite. She had never seen a Dire Avenger, even an Exarch, move so fast. In time however, she began to read his moves. Openings presented themselves, but they were fleeting and disadvantageous for her. Taking one of the openings would expose her vitals to simultaneous counterattack. In real battle, it would result in both of their deaths. Here however, she needed to prove the tenacity of Biel-tan banshees. As Cculan swung his lance in a downward arc, she sidestepped the blow and kicked off the ground at the same time. She got under his guard, and watched his eyes widen in surprise as her blade stabbed his chest plate. Then she felt the impact on her side, and felt herself flying through the air. She hit the ground and skidded to a stop. Despite the rough impact, her armor was unmarred. Her ribs did hurt however.

"A good blow," she said as she got to her feet. She walked to a bench nearby and sheathed her sword. Sitting down, she wiped the sweat from her brow with a folded cloth. Moments later, Cculan took a seat next to her.

"Not nearly as good as yours, but you should be careful banshee. Some of the mon-keigh would accept death to slay one of us."

"I do not intend to fall until my purpose is complete," declared Arcadia.

"Oh?" hummed Cculan. "And what would that purpose be?"

Arcadia's voice became low, filled with solemnity. "There is something an old friend of mine bade me to finish for her. I cannot rest until the task is done, for it was my farseer that commanded it."

"Very well, keep your secrets Biel-Tan," then Cculan laughed. "You are more like us than you think."

Far above the two Aspect Warriors, in one of the Craftworld's great white towers, Drochasal Draoi gazed out into the dim light illuminating the world ship. He rested his hands on a small ledge and breathed deeply. This place was beautiful. To see it wasted by never ending war was truly a loss for the Eldar people. Behind him, Uiremon and the pathfinder Ronahn waited patiently, seated on benches at the foot of a small ramp.

Suddenly Draoi turned and walked past the pair, his black robe fluttering in the cool air. "Ronahn, surveillance for the enemy is prepared?"

The ranger nodded coldly. His voice came quietly from behind the cloth covering his mouth. "Yes. I have our rangers patrolling the approaches. I fear that the forces of Chaos will discover us soon however."

Uiremon cocked his head. His elderly face was wrinkled into a frown. "What makes you think that, Alaitoc? I doubt they even know we are here."

"I do not distrust your expertise spiritseer," replied Ronahn, "but in my experience, the forces of Chaos always detect threats. If we posture, they will find us. And then they will surely kill us."

Now it was Draoi's turn to speak. "You underestimate us. If the children of Chaos come, the Avatar of Khaine will be summoned. The Bloody-Handed God will repeat the destruction it caused only a single cycle ago."

Ronahn did not care to argue anymore. The Ulthwé were impossible. If they summoned the Avatar, it would only draw the attention of the Imperium. With no tyranids to distract them, and the forces of Chaos momentarily delayed by the Avatar, the full force of the Blood Ravens would fall on them.

He stood. "Say what you will Warlock. As your sworn compatriot, I must abide by your orders. I will commence the outer patrols."

Draoi waved him away dismissively. He and Uiremon needed to discuss the continued recovery of the soulstones. It would take time, but with fate on their side, the Eldar would be gone before the fighting begins in earnest.

"Captain Angelos," shouted one of the bridge crew. "Long range scanners are detecting ships exiting the warp. FoF marks them as Blood Raven craft."

Angelos raised his head and fixed his poor posture. "Understood. Which ships are they?"

"The two flagships are the Retribution and the Scientia Est Potentia," replied the officer.

"The Honor Guard?" muttered Angelos. He did not expect to see them here. Then, facing the officer, he said, "Hail them, and broadcast to tactical room four. I will take the call there."

The officer shouted his affirmation as Angelos strode off the bridge. Moments later, he stood across from a projector screen. It was split down the middle. On one side, the steely gaze of Apollo Diomedes drilled into Angelos' skull, while in the other, Aramus quietly stood with a tense expression on his face.

Angelos spoke first. "Greetings Captain Diomedes. I did not think that you would return to our recruiting worlds without the Chapter Master himself."

"I am his will, I only go where he wishes," said Diomedes. "The forces of Chaos are strong here. We must act quickly to crush them."

Angelos now inclined his head towards Aramus. "Commander, what news from the front? How did you fare against the enemy on Meridian, and what delayed our rendezvous?"

Aramus' face twisted, and conformed into a grimace. "We. . . we have not fared well in battle. Endymion fell on Meridian, along with half his squad and Chaplain Automemos. Captain Thule' chassis was crippled as well, and many of our brothers were wounded."

"How is this possible?" breathed Angelos. He was in shock. So many brothers dead, and at the hands of simple rebels?

"It was the Black Legion, Captain Angelos," said Aramus. "Chaos Space Marines killed our brothers."

"Then this conflict has become yet another war for our Chapter's survival."

Aramus raised a hand. "My tale has not yet finished Captain. One of our Chapter's greatest foes, Eliphas the Inheritor, has seemingly returned from the grave. He led the forces on Meridian, though he still wears his Word Bearer colors."

"Eliphas," said Angelos, followed by a pause. "Did the losses on Meridian lead to your delay?"

"Only slightly," replied Aramus. "Using information discovered on Meridian, we struck a large Vandis stronghold on Aurelia. Though our original objective was accomplished, Borian and most of his squad was lost, and Cyrus was badly wounded."

Diomedes interrupted saying, "It was there that my Honor Guard joined with the Commander. The traitors were destroyed, but I doubt it will be the last we see of them."

Angelos nodded wearily. The 4th Company, which had been on its way to recovery, was now horribly weakened once more with the death of Borian.

"Commander, Captain Diomedes, we must plan the next step in our campa-"

Before he could finish, his personal vox began to beep. He thought to ignore it, but the call did not cease. It must be urgent, he thought. "Brothers, I apologize, but I am receiving an urgent vox from the bridge."

On the grainy screen, Aramus nodded, and after a moment so did Diomedes, though he did not look pleased at being ignored. Angelos turned, and opened the vox link. The message lasted only a few seconds, but it felt as though his hearts had stopped. He lowered his hand from his vox as he turned back to the screen and said, "Brothers, it seems we have more pressing concerns, as the enemy has decided to strike once more."

Diomedes' brow furrowed and he held his jaw tightly. "Speak Captain Angelos. Where is the foe?"

"Our scanners have picked up a warp presence on Calderis below. Defenses at Argus will be engaged shortly, and we have lost contact with one of our scout patrols."

His vox turned to static instantly. Wincing, Priam pulled the offending instrument out of his ear. Around him, the scouts attached to the 3rd Company were doing the same. He dropped into a crouch to see if the static would clear, but the even tone remained after two full minutes. Priam looked up. Past the dark rocks that surrounded the patrol, further to the north, the column of dark smoke continued to rise. It was dusk, and a chill was beginning to flow through the labyrinthine passageways made by the crags. Despite the cool air, Priam was beginning to sweat. It beaded on his forehead, mixing with blood drawn by the day's sandstorm. Unlike the north, southern Calderan sand was much finer. Its sandstorms could be deadly for normal humans, the Calderan Defense Force soldiers with them were wrapped head to toe in protective cloth.

After marking the previously discovered weapons cache with a beacon, the patrol, consisting of twelve scouts and about forty guardsmen, had advanced northwest. Two hours later, they noticed smoke on the horizon to the north, and shifted course to intercept. Their path took them into the Fareem crags, a tangle of jagged stone, hiding innumerable caves and wild beasts. Priam had suspected that the fire was coming from the village of Aara, which was located directly in the middle of the crags. A fierce and warlike village, few on Calderis had ever visited it. Priam wanted to check it out. If something had happened to the village, it could be weeks before anyone else investigates it.

The patrol had already passed a few scattered homesteads. They were abandoned, in a rush it seemed. Food had not been taken and what livestock there was bayed in the pens by the houses. It was as though the owners had simply vanished into thin air. Priam knelt in one of the homes. There were no sand tracks leading in or out, and the door was intact. He stood to leave the house, and was met by one of the guardsmen.

"We're nearing Aara my Lord. ETA, five minutes at the current pace."

"You have been invaluable Sergeant," replied Priam. "How do you know the area so well?"

"This is my home," he said. Priam scanned his face, but did not see any overt distress. "You seem puzzled? Is it the attitude? It's my motto, 'leave it to the Emperor'. Worrying about Aara isn't going to save it. That's the Emperor's job, we're just his tools."

"A lifestyle to be proud of," said Priam. With a chop of his arm, he waved the Sergeant forward. The man saluted and led the way with his squad.

Priam's scouts took up the center of the formation as they entered Aara. Calling it a village was not exactly true. The square mile area was smoother than the rest of the badlands, leading to a higher concentration of houses. The source of the pillar of smoke was still out of sight further into the village, but Priam could see bodies now. People had been dragged out of their homes and shot dead.

He heard a pop, and a guardsman fell, clutching a bleeding arm. Praim raised his bolter as he shouted, "Hostile contact! Return fire and advance!" There were a group of traitors to the northwest, taking cover behind an outcropping of rocks next to the ridge. Priam counted at least a dozen, but revised his count as he saw more muzzle flashes appear in the windows of a single story house further back. Priam and two of his scouts took position behind a mound covered in dry grass. He pushed the grass down with the barrel of his bolter and began to fire selectively. Two traitors died in as many shots.

"Sergeant Priam," called one of his marines. "We are taking fire from the rear."

"They are just Vandis traitors; kill them as you would an animal!" Suddenly a roar of engines came from overhead. Four black armored devils arced over Priam, landing amongst the guardsmen. Wielding chainswords and bolt pistols, the new enemies tore the lightly armored humans into pieces of meat, dripping with gore.

Priam's mind raced. "Chaos space marines!" he shouted, opening up on the raptors. His men were already scattering. "No! Stay together; they will pick us off one by one!" It was too late; his scouts were pulling away from the combat in multiple directions, and the guardsmen were fleeing without order. As one of the raptors turned towards Priam, he raised his bolter with a grim expression.

"Speak Captain Angelos! Is the enemy on the planet below? If the Black Legion has struck Calderis, we must respond with great haste!" Captain Diomedes' voice was defeaning, creating static feedback through the vox link.

Angelos had his hand to his ear, continuously listening to the tactical reports. During a pause in the flow of information, he looked up and addressed Aramus and Diomedes. "Apologies Captain, Commander. I have new information. Argus is under attack by a large force of Chaos Space Marines, assisted by Vandis heretics. In addition, we are unable to link up with Sergeant Priam's vox. His system functions at the system level; there is no chance that he is out of range."

"Sandstorm?" suggested Aramus.

"When you recruit from Calderis," replied Diomedes, "You make machinery built to last. I agree with Angelos, the scouts have come under attack."

"There is no doubt that one of these attacks is a diversion," said Angelos. "The question is 'which'."

"The logical choice for a diversionary target is the scouts," said Diomedes. "Use them as bait and then take the Capital. Knowing Chaos however, either one could be diversionary."

"What do you suggest Captain Diomedes?" said Aramus.

There was a pause before the Honor Guard Captain replied. "Splitting our forces will see the traitors defeated. Angelos, defend Argus with your Company. The Commander and I will lead our combined forces to recover the scouts. We cannot afford to spare many men, it could be a trap."

"And you are willing to spring this trap?" asked Angelos.

"Of course!" said Diomedes. "Death does not wait because one avoids danger."

"Very well, Captain," said Angelos. "I will prepare my men for the drop. For the Great Father and the Emperor."

"May His wisdom guide our steps," replied Diomedes.

Their duel complete, Arcadia and Cculan walked side by side through the halls of the craftworld. Draoi had sent for them. The warlock's divinations and the subsequent would soon be debated. The high towers were their destination, a lengthy walk. The pair chatted pleasantly along the way, but Arcadia's mind was elsewhere. Her mind was focused on the man walking next to her. Cculan, the Blue Lance of Ulthwé. He had just held his own against her in single combat. While he was an exarch, he was still a Dire Avenger, a versatile soldier compared to her assault specialty. This was the first time she had ever seen such strength from him. Even during the battle of Typhon he had never fought in hand to hand combat. She resolved to ask him about his blade expertise when the time presented itself. The door to the high tower's meditation chambers slid open, and only then did Arcadia realize how easily time had left her to her thoughts.

Draoi and Uiremon sat in the center of the room on grey cushions. Around them, other warlocks formed a circle, facing inward. The room was bare, save for water gently streaming down panels hung along the round walls. Two cushions were open, and Arcadia and Cculan took their seats.

Draoi said, "It is good you have come. We have much to discuss."

"In the fields of strategy, I am no Autarch," said Cculan, "But I will help if I can."

"And I as well," said Arcadia. She waited calmly for Draoi to begin, but was surprised when Uiremon spoke first.

"Our divinations have given us purpose. We know the location of numerous bases used by the forces of Chaos, but now we must make a pressing decision. What course do we take with the Imperials?"

Draoi responded hastily. "If they attempt to interfere, take any course that would lead to the discovery of this craftworld, they must be destroyed!"

"Calm yourself Draoi," said Cculan. "The Imperials have little chance of finding the entrance. I say, ignore them."

A few of the warlocks nodded, muttering amongst themselves. Veldoran, clad in the blue robes of Alaitoc, said, "To use the old Altansar saying, 'the enemy of my enemy is my friend?'"

With a short laugh, Cculan nodded. "Yes. The Imperium is not our foe here. If we simply attack the forces of Chaos, I believe they will turn a blind eye to our actions."

After a moment's hesitation Arcadia said, "From what I have seen, I believe this is true. The Blood Ravens certainly wish to defend against the children of Chaos. They do not wish to have a three way war." She declined to provide her source. If Draoi knew she had spoken to a Blood Raven more than once, he would not be pleased.

Draoi, though displeased, acquiesced. "If that is decided, let us move to the subject of divinations. I have received through my visions the locations of enemy forces on the hunk of metal known to the mon-keigh as Meridian. We can use this information to strike the cultists accurately."

A hum of assent went up from the circle of warlocks. This information would prove useful. Next, Uiremon said, "I have received more troubling visions. Suggestions plague me. They tell me that some of the mon-keigh collaborate with the Great Enemy in secret."

"This is grim news," said Cculan. "We cannot attack the infiltrators without incurring the wrath of the humans. Is there any way to go about doing this?"

"I have a suggestion," said Draoi. "Our skills at manipulating fate are legendary. If these animals need to die, why not simply increase the odds of their death against another foe. Direct action is a last resort if we wish to avoid conflict with the Blood Ravens."

"I will lead these attacks," said Cculan. "Precision is required." He turned slightly to Arcadia and said, "If you would accompany me, I would be honored."

"Of course," she replied. "Fighting alongside a warrior as great as you would be a pleasure it itself."

"So speaks the Biel-Tan," said Uiremon. "In the mean time, I will focus my visions. Perhaps I can precisely discover the identity of our hidden foes. Be wary, the forces of Chaos will try to force the Imperium's hand against us. We cannot fight both of them. We would surely be annihilated."

"Captain, may I come in?"

Gelden looked up from his reading. The muffled voice of Diomedes came from behind the door at his back. "Come in," he muttered, knowing he would be heard. The door hissed open and in came Diomedes. The Honor Guard Captain stepped into the center of the chamber and looked down at Gelden, who was sitting at his desk of plasteel, reading ancient battle reports. He looked up at Diomedes with brown eyes weighed down with suffering and tragedy that had seemingly been piled on year after year without hope of release.

"Can I help you, Captain Diomedes?" he asked. Gelden was one of the older Captains, nearly as old as Angelos himself. His bald head bore the signs of battle with numerous scars crossing its surface, and his moustache and close trimmed facial hair were grey, like ash.

"Chaos is attacking Calderis, and we are responding. Will you join us with the 5th Company? If you do not wish to, I will request a small detachment."

Gelden thought for a moment. "What are the numbers of the enemy?" he asked in a neutral voice.

"Unknown," was the reply.

Gelden nodded slowly. "Take Zacharias and Bellores. They will do well to aid you. I will have the rest of the 5th remain on standby."

"Very well, I will go now, the 4th Company has already deployed." said Diomedes. As he stood on the threshold he said, "You must lead your men again one day Captain." Then Diomedes was gone.

Gelden went back to his reading. He had led his men once, until a crippling defeat had left him shocked to the very core. No, he could not lead until he could regain confidence in himself, until he could redeem himself for Kaurava.

The dust cleared from Nikephoros' vision after a moment. The drop pods had placed the 4th Company at the entrance to this village on the southern hemisphere. It was a rocky place, with craggy hills nearly enclosing the town. Smoke rose high into the air up ahead, and distant gunfire was audible. After a wave from Tarkus, Nikephoros advanced with the rest of the squad. With the barrel of his bolter covered with a bone colored cloth, no one would see the irregularities. He looked around, searching for targets, but only saw bodies. Guardsmen, villager, all killed by auto or bolter fire. And for some reason, his long vox was down, same as every marine. After switching to close range signal, they had discovered that the interference was greatly reduced.

"Gunfire in the distance," said Cleon. "Perhaps our brothers still live."

Nikephoros nodded as he examined a fallen guardsman. He looked up at Thaddeus' squad, which was advancing ahead of them. Augustine looked like he was shaking. Was it anger? He had never shown such passion before.

Suddenly they heard a voice in their short range vox. "Praise the Emperor, are you out there brothers?"

Tarkus was the first to respond. "Is that you Sergeant Priam? Report!"

"Yes, it is I. We were scattered. There are Black Legionnaires all over the village. They have a sorcerer, a Thousand Son. He- he's stealing my initiates!"

Before Tarkus could respond, they were under fire. Multiple Black Legionnaires poured bolter fire at them from behind cover at a distance. Thaddeus' squad took to the skies, crashing down among them. And like that, the Blood Ravens were engaged once more.

Author's Note: As I feared, updates have slowed. This is a result of the end of the school year rapidly approaching as well as an onset of writer's block. I decided to cut this chapter in two. The second part is looking to be pretty lengthy, and I wanted to get this one out before the end of the world. Also, this chapter sees the story pass 200,000 words. Thank you to everybody that has read thus far, especially those that have reviewed. I truly appreciate it.

In response to Pisces, I'm going to enjoy making you squirm with the upcoming deaths. Thank you for your review, no matter how late. It is good to see them.

In response to Amir-15, I cannot confirm nor deny that at this time. Keep your eyes open for more hints.