Captum Ante Chapter 44

Deep beneath the ground darkness reigned supreme, here in the catacombs below the Librarians' tower where the sun never penetrated. Ribbed arches supported a roof that was covered in wards of abjuration and concealment, the walls and floor were also inscribed with sigils of aversion and silver talismans. Everything was plated in psy-inert obsidian, from the columns to the floor tiles and even the many doors that lined the catacomb's walls.

It was not just psychic defences either for there were also many physical ones. There were layers upon layers of Auspex and biometrics scanners, roving skull-probes and gun-servitors. Lurking cyber-mastiffs sniffed the air and strange machines, shaped like vicious mechanical spiders skittered overhead. They patrolled these halls tirelessly, watchful for incursions and ready to act without a qualm. Worst of all were figures in black armour and full face masks, large enough to be Astartes but with no honour markings or insignia. These were the dreaded black sentinels, whose origin was kept from all.

A common mind would have wondered what could possibly be so dangerous that the Storm Heralds would go to such lengths to keep intruders out. A keener mind would have wondered what could possibly be so dangerous that the Storm Heralds would go to such lengths to keep it in. The wisest minds of all would have concluded that it was best not to know and would have elected to stay well away. This was the Bibliotheca Damnatorum, the Librarius' secret vault, where it hid the most dangerous of artefacts

Through those vaults three warriors were hurrying, dashing from cover to cover as they looked out for the catacomb's guardians. They were clad in plain robes, bereft of hoods. They all knew that hiding their faces was pointless, if they were discovered then they would be shot on sight, their identities wouldn't matter. Among them Arvael was furtively looking up and down the corridors, checking for patrolling defenders. He saw the way was clear and waved his companions onwards, they walked past him and he hissed, "Would you hurry up."

"Calm down," Corac said, "Nobody's here to see us."

Arvael grimaced and said, "Do you know what they will do to us if we are caught here?"

"Nothing as bad as you're imagining," Corac said, "Besides this is just the first level; the really dangerous stuff is much deeper."

Quomas blinked and said, "What, there's more?"

Corac grinned and said, "Yes, there are vaults far below this, ones that are never meant to be opened. Things so dangerous that they aren't just kept secret, their very existence is strenuously denied."

Quomas shook his head and said, "Remind me why we are doing this."

Arvael silently agreed with him but Corac said, "We have to investigate the extent of the corruption, how deeply it has sunk its claws into the Librarius. We have to see the Necroteuch; if we can take its scent then we can trace how far the rot has spread."

Quomas fretted and said, "But why not just tell Master Echeb?"

Corac grimaced and said, "Echeb's the one who worries me. Running a secret spy network, using serf as spies and concealing artefacts, lying to the Chapter. He's neck deep in this corruption; it wouldn't surprise me if this was all a big plot to get his hands on the Necroteuch in the first place."

Arvael wasn't sure he agreed with that conclusion, he knew Echeb was harsh and shrewd but that did not strike him as someone who would risk corruption. But then he thought about the machinations of Chaos, its supreme cunning and insidiousness. Time after time the Imperium had seen its best and brightest turned against it, those one would have sworn were above reproach being transformed into vile heretics. Much of this didn't make sense to Arvael, the secret missions, the death of Caius, Mayra's inexplicable homicide and above all Echeb's refusal to burn the accursed book. If the Chief Librarian was involved, if he was a Traitor, then the entire Storm Heralds Chapter was in jeopardy. They had to find answers and fast, the risks of not acting were too great.

Suddenly Corac stopped outside a door and whispered, "This is it." Arvael looked and saw a black iron door, banded with heavy reinforcing bars. It was covered in sigils and wards, locked with seven silver locks and an encrypted runepad. All around the lintel of the door was a knotwork of symbols, potent defences against psychic intrusion and declarations of warning to any who dared pass within.

Set into the door was a small grilled portal, through which Corac was peering intently. Arvael peeked past him and saw a shadowy crypt beyond. It was laid out like a sepulchre, ringed with fearful icons, dark shadowy corners and engraved images of lament and mourning. Where a coffin should have been was a small pedestal and set upon that was a small book, bound with silver chains. It seemed such an odd thing to house here, so tiny and innocuous for so grand a resting place.

Arvael shook off a terrible sense of foreboding and said, "Right we've found it, now do your thing and let's get out of here."

"Wait a moment," Corac said peering at the wards, "I am trying to figure out how to get through this door first."

Arvael nodded at that for a moment but then the words struck him and he blurted out, "What?! You never said anything about going in there."

Corac rolled his eyes and said, "How else am I going to do this, you agreed with the plan."

Arvael glared angrily and said, "I never agreed to break any wards."

"Don't be so naive," Corac said, "It has to be done, you knew that the second I suggested coming down here. Don't play the innocent."

"Quomas," Arvael appealed, "Tell him this is wrong."

Quomas looked between them and said, "I… I don't know."

"I have it!" Corac cried elatedly and passed his hands over the wards in a strange pattern. They flared brightly for a moment and then died, leaving behind ashen traces. Arvael was stunned by that, he knew Corac was more learned than he, but there was no way Corac should have been able to do that.

Corac then pulled out his Force Daggers, which Arvael didn't know he had brought, and proceeded to break the seven silver locks. He paused at the runepad and frowned then said, "Quomas open this."

Quomas shook his head and said, "I… I'm not sure that's a good idea."

Corac sighed and his hand blurred as he punched a dagger into the runepad, the lock sparked loudly and then spluttered as the door slid open. Corac nodded in satisfaction and said, "Come on then, let's get on with it.

Arvael however shook his head and said, "No, we can't go in there."

"It's too late to turn back now," Corac said, "We are already past the point of no return."

"It's never too late," Arvael snapped, "Look at this door, look at the defences around it. Nobody is supposed to go in there, not now, not ever. There's no telling what you might unleash. There's a line, a limit to how far we should go and this is it. I admit we've skirted that line so far but to step over that threshold is to reject every teaching we've had ever heard."

Corac threw up his hands and declared, "You sound like those pathetic adepts, bleating on about lines and limits. We are Librarians, every time we use our powers we cross a line. You need to embrace that fact, embrace what needs to be done instead of wringing your hands over it."

"Listen to yourself," Arvael pleaded, "It's that book, it's got its claws into you!"

"Oh don't be so melodramatic, there's nothing affecting me," Corac said, "I am your friend and I'm asking you to take this step with me."

Arvael knew he was right, these two were his only friends and they needed to stand together. But then he looked again at the wards and runes around the doorway and knew he was also right to say that nobody should enter that chamber. Arvael was caught in a vice, facing two impossible choices: join his friends or take a stand against what he knew to be wrong.

Arvael drew in a breath and said, "No, I am not going in there."

Corac's face fell and he breathed, "I am disappointed in you… Quomas come on; we will do this without him."

Arvael looked at his Brother, who seemed torn at the choice before him and he said, "Don't follow him Quomas, you don't know what might happen."

Quomas wrung his hands and said, "I'm not sure…"

"For Throne's sake," Corac spat, "Let me go first then."

With that he stepped over the threshold, entering the sepulchre. Arvael was half-expecting a hail of bolter rounds or a blaze of deadly lightning to fall but to his surprise, nothing happened. Corac grinned smugly and said, "See, no danger, come in Quomas."

Arvael looked at him and said, "Quomas don't do it."

Quomas looked absolutely wretched but said, "I'm sorry." Then he too stepped over the threshold, following Corac inside.

Corac nodded and turned towards the heart of the sepulchre, raising his arms to say, "Well then, let's see what we have got."

Arvael protested one last time, "Come out of there right now, if Chief Librarian Echeb finds you…"

From out of nowhere a harsh voice suddenly called out, "Unfortunately he has already found you!"

All three of the acolytes jumped and stared about, looking for the source of the voice. In a dark corner of the sepulchre a collection of shadows suddenly became coherent. Suggestive patches of darkness becoming hard armour plates and hints of light transforming into a grim face with haunted eyes. It was like looking a jumble of clouds and squinting, one's eyes suddenly picking out patterns to form shapes and images.

One second there was a patch of empty darkness and the next there stood Chief Librarian Echeb, in his eldritch plate. He was holding his staff in his hand and his psychic hood crackled with power, but worst of all was his face. His expression was grim, unforgiving, full of anger and every last drop of it was directed at the three acolytes. Arvael felt a wave of trepidation sweep over him, here was the very man they were trying to investigate, armed and armoured. He was severe, he was terrifying, he was absolute and there was not a trace of forgiveness in his face. The conclusion was inescapable: Echeb had clearly got here first and been waiting for them, he had known exactly what they were going to do.

The other's reacted too, Quomas hurriedly backed away from Echeb, almost falling over in his haste to get away from their master. His shoulders slammed into the wall and his eyes were wide as he tried to grasp the implications. Corac for his part stood firm in the face of their master's ire, refusing to show fear or doubt. He raised his Force Daggers and snarled, "How did you get here?!"

Echeb took a step forward, the sound of his boots ringing off the walls as he snarled, "Your plan was obvious, easily predicted. It was clear what you would do next; all I had to do was leave out the right bait. The only question was whether it would be one of you or all three, but I knew that this heresy would reveal itself soon enough."

Corac held up his daggers before him and shouted, "I won't go back, you can't take me back!"

Arvael was confused by that but Echeb's next declaration made his jaw drop, "Did you really think to fool me with such a pathetic charade? It was evident from the first telepathic probe that Mayra was confessing to a crime she didn't commit, that her memory of killing Caius was false. One of you did the deed and then tried to frame her for it. Did you honestly think that I could not tell the difference between her real memories and implanted ones?"

Corac looked at Echeb and something dark passed over his face as he declared loudly, "Well… I did think that it would take you a little bit longer to figure that out."

Arvael heard the words but it took a good few seconds for them to make sense to him. The implication hit him like a bolt of lightning and his world dropped out from under him as he realised that Echeb wasn't the Heretic here: Corac was.

Arvael looked at his wayward Brother and whispered, "Corac… what have you done?"