Chapter fourteen.

Mormotha, Divinus Prime.

In the next three days, Antros lived through a dozen different lifetimes. Under the stern tutelage of Rhacelus, he memorised and recited each of the invocations recorded in The Glutted Scythe. They sat motionless in the courtyard, oblivious to the rising and falling of the sun, neither drinking nor eating as they worked slowly through the text. Priests would occasionally wander past them, paying tribute to the Tomb of Eremite or hurrying to prayers, but if they paused to look at the Librarians, all they saw were two colossal warriors hunched over a small book. The dangerous, warp-fuelled rites being enacted all took place behind the eyes of two Blood Angels. Rhacelus weaved entire warzones inside Antros' mind, plunging him into the endless battles he had fought during his centuries as a Blood Angel. At the crucial moment of each conflict he ordered Antros to join him in whichever evocation he had employed to defeat the enemy. Each time Antros faltered, Rhacelus firmly intoned the words again, leading the him through the rituals as enemies erupted into flames or collapsed, screaming, into fragments of dimensionless agony.

As he grappled with each of Mephiston's dark sacraments, Antros felt his grasp of the galaxy expanding and deepening, so that, by the time they were finally interrupted, he felt as thought he had been reborn. All the ambition and fervour that had brought him to this point seemed like a naive enthusiasm of a child; he was no less determined, but he now understood the hazardous journey he was beginning. Damnation and glory were a thought's-breadth away from each other. On the third morning of their time in the courtyard, Antros and Rhacelus were drawn from their visions by a harsh clanging of cymbals and tuneless bells.

Antros gradually focused on the scene, shaking his head free of a dozen realities as he rose to his feet, moving with the awkward hesitance of a somnambulist. He reached out to grasp a pillar as he tried to reacquaint his senses with the material world. After all he had seen done at Rhacelus' side, it seemed odd to recall that they had only just arrived at the abbey. The courtyard had been transformed during their absence. As his vision cleared, he saw that is was now crowded with a mixture of monks and heavily armoured militiamen and preachers – religious zealots, wearing straps of ammunition and psychotic stares. The air rang with impassioned prayers and catechisms as they crowded around the tomb at the centre of the courtyard.

As Antros stumbled out of the cloistered shadows, the preachers nearest to him faltered, staring in shock, but the flood of priests attempting to reach the tomb soon pushed them forwards. They had adorned the whole courtyard with scraps of parchment and there was a celebratory air to the gathering.

"What's happening?" demanded Antros, halting one of the militiamen.

Behind him Rhacelus had also risen from the stone pew and the militiaman looked up at them both wide-eyed, taking in their weapons and huge suits of power armour.

"Arch-Cardinal Dravus," he said. "We are giving thanks for his safe return." Despite his obvious fear of the Blood Angels, the priest stared at them ecstatically. "He survived his trials in the wilderness. He has returned to us with a message from the God-Emperor. He knows how we can end this war and reunite the Children of the Vow!"

Antros glanced at Rhacelus then looked at the priest again. "Where is he now? In the city?"

The crowd carried the man away from them, but he simply laughed. "Follow the procession!"

"We must find the Chief Librarian and Mariah," said Antros, turning back to Rhacelus.

"They will already know of this," replied Rhacelus. Warpfire was still sparking in his eyes, a remnant of their recent journeys. "Captain Vatrenus," he said, talking into his vox. "Where are you?"

There was a brief crackle of interference, then the Captain's strident voice broke through the white noise. "...minutes away from the amphitheatre. The Chief Librarian spoke to me an hour ago and ordered me to set watch over both of the entrances, but its hard to get near the place, never mind locate the gates. We have moved off the street. Need to let the crowed come past. Half the planet must be here. So many bloody refugees came through the gates yesterday. The idiots are crushing each other. The word it that Dravus has finally returned. they're all heading for the amphitheatre to hear him give some kind of sermon." There was a pause and when the captain spoke again, Antros could hear wariness in his voice. "Have you completed your studies? I checked on you yesterday morning. Tried talking to you. You wouldn't answer. Even when I spoke your names."

Rhacelus looked at Antros. His expression was an odd mixture of suspicion and pride. "We have finished our work."

"Is the Chief Librarian at the amphitheatre?" Rhacelus asked Captain Vatrenus over the vox.

"No. He is with you. Or, at least, he should be with you. He has not left the abbey since we arrived. He went into the library with that old preacher three days ago and never came out. I tried to vox him but had no luck. He contacted me this morning about the amphitheatre gates but he has been silent since then." He sounded irritated. "And he wants us to find an old sluice gate or some such thing, but I'm sure we could be more use with you."

Rhacelus nodded. "Find those gates, Captain Vatrenus. The Chief Librarian does not give orders on a whim. Use force if you need to. We will find Lord Mephiston and Lady Mariah and join you as soon as we can."

"Epistolary," said Vatrenus. "This Blade Mephiston seeks – is it here? Is it in Mormotha?" He sounded frustrated by his lack of clarity. "Could I be looking for it rather than hunting for gates and drains? The Chief Librarian never said where we would find the thing. Will this Arch-Cardinal Dravus have it?"

Rhacelus shook his head "I do not know, but Dravus is the most senior priest on Divinus Prime. He will know where their relics are stored. I presume the Chief Librarian and Lady Mariah will demand that Dravus hand the thing over or direct them to whatever reliquary houses it."

There was a silence across the vox-network and Antros could feel the captain's doubt. "Will he do that."

"Would you refuse the Chief Librarian and Lady Mariah?"

"No, Epistolary Rhacelus, I would not, but I do not have a planet's worth of faith-drunk zealots roaring my name."

"We will be with you soon, captain. Reach those gates," said Rhacelus, terminating the conversation.

Rhacelus frowned, considering the Captain's words. Then he led Antros through the courtyard and back into the refectorium. Several of the tables had been overturned and the dusty silence that had greeted the Blood Angels had vanished, replaced by a raucous, manic din. Rhacelus curled his lip in distaste at the priests and militiamen scrambling through the room, howling prayers. "Savages," he muttered. "And this is what we are sworn to protect."

Antros was about to defend the men when he noticed how deranged they looked. His words stalled in his mouth. The Space Marines marched easily against the flow of devotees and shoved open the double doors that the abbot had led Mephiston and Mariah through on the day of their arrival. They were met by a set of broad, sweeping steps and were about to ascend when Mephiston and Mariah emerged at the top followed by Father Orsuf. The abbot paused at the top of the steps and Mephiston placed a hand on the old preacher's shoulder in an uncharacteristic show of affection.

"To have accumulated so much knowledge in a single lifetime is a rare achievement, Father Orsuf," Mephiston said. "You are wise beyond your years."

The abbot shook his head, embarrassed by the praise. "I am unable to rid my mind of obscure facts, Chief Librarian, that is all. Most of it is clutter that I would rather be rid of, but I am glad to have helped you. I would rather help you on the battlefield, though. Perhaps I still could? I can still-" he was about to say more when he saw the Blood Angels waiting at the bottom of the steps. He laughed. "And there they are, just as you both said."

Mephiston did not acknowledge his fellow Librarian's and continued to grip the abbot by the shoulder. "you have helped me enough. Stay with your books today, Father Orsuf."

The fire faded from the abbot's eyes and he nodded, smiling sadly.

"I understand." He gave Mephiston and Mariah an awkward bow. "Good luck old friends. Perhaps we will meet again." Then he headed back into his library, laughing to himself. "Wise beyond my years."

Mephiston and Mariah swept down the steps, their cloaks billowing behind them and their gazes even more intense than usual.

"I know what we must do." Mephiston said, reaching Rhacelus.

Rhacelus gripped his arm. "You know where the blade is?"

Mephiston shook his head. "But the abbot has shared more than I could have expected. He is brave to break with traditions that surround him, but he is a man of rare insight. He understands the mistakes that have been made here. I will explain as we travel to the amphitheatre." He handed a book to Antros and walked on. "We do not have long," he said as he led them back through the abbey. "And there is much to be done before we meet the Arch-Cardinal. Have you heard from Vatrenus?"

"Yes," said Rhacelus. "They are heading for the gated to the amphitheatre, as you ordered. And looking for some kind of sluice gate?"

Mephiston nodded. "Good. That building is ancient even by the standards of this city. Its secrets are warded by sorcery that neither I nor Mariah understand. I will need Vatrenus to use simple brawn."

Antros could see the distant terraces of the amphitheatre as their armoured boots clattered over the cobbles. As they descended from the hilltop, they began to encounter large groups of excited priests and gangs of battle weary soldiers, their hollow cheeked faces reinvigorated by the drowning prayers broadcast by the hymnals overhead.

Antros noticed that many of the people they passed were holding something in their fists, something that glittered and flashed as they rushed through the patches of morning light between walkways and bridges. Eventually one of the zealots came close enough that he saw what it was: a bladeless silver sword handle.

"The Blade Petrific is the cornerstone of their faith," said Mephiston, sensing Antros' unspoken question. "To speak its name is forbidden. They rarely make such open demonstrations of their faith."

"What kind of sect is this?" asked Rhacelus glaring at the crowds rushing past. "What do these barbarians have to hide? Besides their ignorance, that is."

They had reached a narrow footbridge that soared across a maze of distant streets. Mephiston had led them out of the main flow of the crowd and toward a quieter district. "They are true to the Emperor," he said flatly. "They are no heretics. They are not even particularly unorthodox." He paused as a regiment of dragoons jogged past, lasrifles slung on their backs as they hurried to join the masses heading towards the amphitheatre. They where flamboyantly dressed with gleaming brass cuirasses and tall, plumed helmets, but they all bore scars and their fatigues were torn and bloodstained. They were clearly hardened fighters.

As the long column of troops rushed by, some of them glanced in surprise at the Blood Angels and a few even had the presence of mind to salute as they passed, but it was clear from their blissful, transported expressions that they were as ecstatic as the priests. As the last few stomped past, Antros noticed a familiar symbol engraved across their breastplate: the same, ornate, upside down T that Prester Cyriak had tattooed on his forehead. He finally made the connection that he imagined that his Brothers and sister had already made – the upside down T was a sword hilt.

"Their faith centres on the Emperor," continued Mephiston, once the long column of soldiers and tanks had finally passed. "But it is a faith clouded by myths and ancestor worship." He nodded at the books he had given Antros. "The abbot has shared much of this knowledge with me. He told me the true meaning to the Children of the Vow – they are sworn, above all, to preserve the safety and mystery of the Blade Petrific. Every precept and ritual is intended to ensure its secrecy – even from the rest of the Adeptus Ministorum."

"Why?" asked Antros, as they continued over the bridge, away from the dragoons. "if they are not traitors, why keep secrets from their own brothers?"

"They have been beguiled by faith," replied Mephiston, stopping to examine a doorway. The bone-wrought lintel had been contorted to resemble a great eagle's claw, grasping the door in its bleached talons. There were symbols carved into the columns on either side of its perch and Mephiston began tracing them with his finger, trying to discern their meaning. "Confessor Zin described their colourful creation myths, but you will remember that he stopped short of telling us the crux of the vow. Father Orsuf was not so coy. The priests on Divinus Prime believe that it is their sacred task to preserve the Blade Petrific in sorcery because one day the God-Emperor will rise from his golden throne to reclaim it. And, as long as they have kept his blade safe, he will begin a day of wrath that will cleanse the galaxy of unbelief. The greatest fear is that some pugnacious warrior might decide to use the blade as an actual weapon and take it from its shrine."

"As you mean to do?" said Antros.

Mephiston gave no reply, absorbed by the runes on the pillar he was examining, but Antros and Rhacelus exchanged meaningful glances, while Mariah was watching. Even in this quiet street they could hear the thousands of fanatics pouring through the city behind them.

"Thank you Father Orsuf," said Mephiston as the characters on the columns pulsed into life, lit by a cerulean fire that flickered and danced, lighting up the Chief Librarian's corpse like features.

The light swelled in brightness and the ossified door unravelled itself, the bones sliding and unlooping like laces being unfastened from a boot. After a few seconds, they were left facing a long, gloomy hallway that led to a second door.

Mephiston and Mariah strode into the shadows and the other two Blood Angels hurried after them. Watching over the second door was a bored looking Guardsman, dressed in the same blue and brass uniform as the dragoons they had passed on the bridge. At the sight of the Blood Angels he grabbed his lasrifle and aimed, his eyes wide with alarm as he registered the size of the four warriors storming down the hallway towards him.

"Halt!" he cried. "You're not allowed In here! If you don't-"

The guard's words were cut short by a single glance from Mariah. The guard froze, statue like, his mouth wide open, as though he were a character in a painting.

Trapping the man in a fragment of time was a minor display of psychic power and Mephiston, Rhacelus and Antros barely registered it, following Mephiston and Mariah without comment as they strode on past the inanimate figure and through the door.

It led them into a small antechamber that in turn led them to a sweeping staircase. At the top of the stairs they walked out onto a broad, circular balcony, hundreds of feet in diameter and looking down over a strange looking hall. It was lit by several large braziers that revealed an army or supine corpses. The bodies completely filled the floor of the large chamber, and it reminded Antros of a slaughter house. The corpses were arranged on slabs in neat rows in varying degrees of dismemberment. Some were grinning, skinless cadavers glistening in the torchlight; others were no more than skeletons. There were a dozen or so hooded priests working on the bodies, wielding curved, ceremonial knives and slopping innards into large, ceramic urns. The priests worked in twos. As one sliced and chopped, the other read prayer from a small book, waving his free hand over the gradually disintegrating bodies, drawing shapes in the air.

The air was thick with censer smoke but as the light of the braziers flickered across the balconies it flashed on the Blood Angels' armour, causing the priests to look up in surprise. There were priests up on the balcony too, and at the sight of the Blood Angels some of them cried out and started hurrying towards them. Mephiston reached out into the fumes and needles of crimson light flickered through the vapours. Before the priests had taken more than a few steps, they were jolted to a halt by the same force that had frozen the man at the door.

Mephiston waved for the other three Blood Angels to follow him as he climbed down some steps into the chamber.

"The people of Mormotha do not realise it," said Mephiston, rushing through the fumes, "but their enemy has already breached the gates."

He walked around the mortuary slabs, looking back at Mariah, Rhacelus and Antros. "We must move fast, or the city will be in ruins by nightfall and there will be an army between us and the Blade Petrific."

"My lord," said Rhacelus. "What else have you seen? What is your plan?" He glanced at the static figures that surrounded them. "They may be an uncouth mob, but they are imperial citizens."

Mephiston tapped one of the blood filled vials hanging at his belt. "I have drunk deep of Father Orsuf's learning. His blood may be old and thin, but it is rich with knowledge. I have tasted the entire history of this city. A fascinating subject."

He made his way past the rows of bodies and pointed Vitarus at a doorway at the far side of the chamber. "These mortuaries are scattered across the city, linked by miles of catacombs."

as the neared the door, Mephiston waved his sword slightly and it hissed open. "We will not need to fight our way through the crowds." He led them into an arrow-straight, vaulted passageway, lined with braziers and decorated with gruesome friezes demonstrating the obscure funerary rites of the Vow. "This passageway will bring us out into the amphitheatre, near were the Arch-Cardinal intends to make his speech."

Cadaverous faces loomed out of the shadows, grinning in the firelight as the Blood Angels hurried past the mosaics.

Antros staggered to a halt as Mephiston fell and slumped against Mariah, shaking his head, as though attacked by a swarm of insects.

Rhacelus and Antros stepped towards them, then halted as the Chief Librarian began to ripple and distort, as though seen through falling water. He gave an angry roar and wretched himself and Mariah back from the wall, leaving behind a ghostly mirror image of himself, still shimmering against the mosaics. The slumped Mephiston quickly faded into the shadow as the roaring one lurched off with Mariah down The passageway, before crashing into a pillar with such force the he filled the passageway with dust and elicited a worrying groan from the ceiling. Dozens of ossified bones crashed down around them exploding into dust as they hit the ground.

"Chief Librarian!" gasped Antros as they reached him. He was leaning heavily against the pillar with Mariah stood close by to him and the blood film had washed over his eyes. As Mephiston turned to face them, he held up a hand in warning.

They backed away, but Mephiston's face twisted with pain and he seemed unable to lower his hand. It started to vibrate and droplets of dark fire dropped from his fingers.

Fingers of light knifed up from beneath their feet as the ground started to crack.

"Mephiston!" cried Rhacelus.

"Calistarius!" cried Mariah, her voice full of love and care, while she was holding on to him.

But Rhacelus and Antros both were looking at her.

"How did you know that would work?" Rhacelus asked

"Well it was obvious when Antros shouted Chief Librarian he did not respond, then you shouted Mephiston then the same thing happened." Answered Mariah

+Tell them Mariah if you think its the right thing to do. I trust your judgement." Mephiston said into her mind.

"Not only that me and Mephiston have been together since he helped me beat the Black Rage." Mariah Told them.

+How are you now Mephiston?+ asked Mariah

+I am fine better now, hearing the emotion in your voice, the worry that you might lose me made me fight to get back to you.+ Replied Mephiston.

+I know this may not go down so well with Dante especially if Antros tells him.+ Said Mariah.

+We have nothing to worry about Mariah, Dante has your biggest secret to hide, I am sure that this has no mark on that, you are my best friend and soul mate, and I am happy with you, I would never let anyone hurt you.+ responded Mephiston.