Incantator Congressus Chapter 30

The hounds had their scent, so they ran. The Librarians ran straight up hillsides and over sharp peaks; they skidded down slippery slopes and splashed through shallow creeks, into thin woods and out again, leaping between sheer clifftops and vaulting stony uprisings. They ran as fast as Astartes could move over rough terrain but it made no difference, their hunters were also Space Marines, every bit as tough and skilled as they were and never more than a few minutes behind.

Arvael put his head down and ran, arms and legs pumping as his power armour growled. He knew their tracks over the peaty ground were unmistakable but there was no time to try to conceal their passage. Jubila was on their heels and would not give up so easily. The fact that Hyhush must have fallen weighed heavily upon him, but there was no time to mourn. The Charnel Guard had given his life to buy a few precious minutes and the only way to honour that sacrifice was to make the most of it.

As they ran Arvael racked his mind, trying to think of a way out. They were outnumbered and outgunned and Jubila alone was their match in combat. The only advantage they held was their psychic abilities, surely a potent weapon but alas he could think of nothing in his repertoire that could shake their pursuers. What wouldn't he give for Third Company to come screaming out of the sky, he griped internally, to see Captain Toran leading the proud Squads to war would be perfect right now. Chaplain Furion, Brothers Persion and Jediah… hell he'd even welcome Novak's irreverent tongue if it meant his sword was brought into play, perhaps the only duellist Arvael had ever seen to match Jubila. Sadly that was not going to happen and there was no use crying over what could not be, so all that left was to flee.

The seven surviving Librarians soon found a sharp gully and skidded down the flanks, kicking up a cloud of grit that surely betrayed their position. At the bottom they took off at full pace, knowing they were exposed in this cleft. If Chaos Marines crested the ridge they would be scythed down with bolter fire, but there was no alternative save to hasten to its end. A sharp bend loomed ahead and Arvael yearned for a branching twist to confuse pursuit, but to his shock he saw the path come to an abrupt halt. The gully dropped away into a wider valley, one created by a roaring river some fifty metres below. The sound of rushing water and the smell of moisture drenched his nostrils but his hearts fell, there was no option save to jump.

Jhur skidded to a halt and called, "What are we waiting for, its only fifty metres, we can survive that!"

"There's no way on the other bank," Chamat snapped, "We'd be carried away downstream."

"So, anywhere's better than here," Jhur urged.

But Sythah argued, "We'd be sitting ducks, they could stand up here and pick us off with ease."

"We have to try!" Ghyrun barked.

Arvael was about to leap into the air but then Imix spoke up, "Boldness will not carry the day, but I have an idea. Quickly, climb down the cliff face and position yourself flat to the rock."

"Are you jesting?!" Ashuay spat, "We won't fool anyone that way."

"Trust me or not," Imix retorted, "But choose quickly."

Arvael interjected, "I trust him, get down there."

He matched deeds to words and lowered himself to the lintel. The rock was soft and crumbly under his grip but he drove his fingers in deep and managed to get a firm lock. Slowly he lowered himself over the edge and then began climbing down. The others followed, spreading out at Imix's urging as they descended step by step. Arvael felt time running like sand between his fingers and reminded himself that Imix was powerful and wise. Surely he must have some trick up his sleeve.

About halfway down Imix urged them to stop and then closed his eyes and drew forth his power. He had strapped his staff to his back and the ramskull top began to shimmer as his will went to work. Arvael frowned as a chill passed, then his jaw dropped as his armour began to change colour. From deep blue to pitted grey, perfectly matching the rockface. Strange shadows began to play over the angles of his armour, distorting its distinctive shape and melding his silhouette with the cliff face. His face tingled and he was sure his features were changing, though he had no way to check. The others too were cast into shadow, their bulk merging with the rock. Though he knew they were present he could barely pick them out, so perfect was the illusion. In moments seven Librarians had vanished into the wall, a disguise so flawless it left him amazed at Imix's subtle skills.

Barely a moment later he heard heavy feet above and a voice cried out, "They aren't here!"

"I can see that Baeghost," came the sibilant voice of Jubila, "They must have jumped."

"Into the river?!" another cried, "We must head downstream and cut them off."

"Too slow," Jubila snapped, "Get after them."

"You want us to jump into that?"

"Jump or taste my blade!"

That seemed to settle the argument and there was a rush of air as gaudy figures blurred past. Arvael pressed himself to the rock as Jubila's Chosen fell away, one by one leaping into the river below. Arvael tried not to breathe as a series of booming splashes heralded the Chaos Marines plunging into the raging torrent. He wished they would kill themselves on sharp rocks but knew Ceramite and genhanced bones were not so frail, they would survive, of this he was sure. Yet they would be carried downstream and surely would be far away by the time they realised they had been tricked.

Arvael waited until he was sure they were all gone then began to climb, hauling himself back up to the gully. The illusion faded as they rose and by the time they were back on solid ground they were back in their customary colours. Ashuay brushed grit off his plate as he said, "I can't believe that worked, you Firstborn are damned lucky."

"We have no use for luck," Imix countered as his pale features returned to normal, "The Axioms of Corax teach that there exists only choices and action."

"Corax be damned," Ashuay hissed, "You gambled on a faint chance and nearly cost us everything."

"May I remind you Imix just saved all our lives," Arvael hissed defensively.

"For which we give thanks," Sythah intoned, "Yet not all escaped. Let us pay respects to the memory of Hyhush."

"Aye," Jhur agreed, "Brave and true was he, to the very end."

Chamat concurred, "To die in battle is the fate of all Space Marines, may we all find so worthy a death."

Ghyrun added, "He proved himself stalwart and trustworthy, none shall doubt his quality."

"His name shall be long remembered," Imix declared, "May his spirit live on evermore."

Arvael knew he should say something but found the words sticking in his throat. He knew Hyhush's secret, the flaw consuming his hearts and eroding his sanity. That the Charnel Guard had died well was admirable but not entirely altruistic, his choice to stay had been driven by the rage burning within and a desire to claim a clean death, as opposed to the raving maniac he would have become. Arvael could not doubt the valour of his end, but the act had been tainted. Yet how could he explain any of this to the others, the secret flaw of the Blood Angels was not his to share. Lamely he said, "Hyhush died well."

His hesitation went unremarked and Imix declared, "We have a moment of respite to plan our next move."

"Where shall we run?" Ghyrun asked.

"Does it matter," Jhur sniffed, "Enemies abound in all directions."

"Someplace where I can stay clean for five damned minutes," Chamat muttered as he began passing his hands over his plate.

"Will you stop that!" Jhur growled, "It's getting on my nerves."

"You can look like a slovenly mule if you like," Chamat sneered, "Some of us have standards."

Arvael was in no mood for this argument and said, "You sort this out, I'll go stand guard." Imix raised an eyebrow but the others didn't seem concerned as Arvael turned and trooped away. He moved along the gully somewhat, until the other's voices were barely a mummer then cast his vision along the ravine. His scrying found no immediate threats and so he settled back and brooded. Bitterly he turned over recent events, the death of Hyhush and he had to ask if he had played some part in it. Uncovering the secret shame must have affected Hyhush, knowing his flaw was discovered may have driven him to his self-sacrifice. Was Arvael partly responsible, could Hyhush have chosen another path, as with the Eye of Destiny he had no answers.

His deliberations was interrupted by a soft chuckle behind him and a frail voice saying, "Brooding I see."

"Who goes there?!" Arvael cried as he spun about. What he beheld was a small man, no, a mutant. A thin and malnourished frame, dressed in ragged overalls and with a gaunt face. From his brow rose two waving antennas, signs that the mark of mutation lay upon him. Strangely he was slightly transparent, and Arvael immediately guessed it was some psychic projection, but how it was achieved and who this was baffled him.

The man smiled knowingly as he taunted, "You have forgotten me already, I have to say I am a little hurt."

"I don't know you," Arvael hissed.

"Oh but you do. You and I share a deep and profound bond. You will never be free of me, not since I whispered in your ear, before you even knew you were a Psyker."

"Harbinger!" Arvael growled in horrified outrage, "You were behind the attack! I should have known, this has your foul stench all over it."

"I can't take all the credit; Jubila's arrival had nothing to do with me. But yes, I subverted the Inquisitorial base I summoned the Possessed. I slaughtered the servants of the Throne and I took great pleasure in doing so."

Arvael backed up a pace and snapped, "You try to deceive me, you always lie. This is a crude ploy to keep me talking while you seek our location!"

Harbinger pouted as he scoffed, "Echeb hasn't done much for your education. No, this kind of communication can't be back-tracked, unfortunately. No, I am here to make you an offer."

"Let me guess, you'll spare my life in exchange for the Gladius Incandor," Arvael sneered.

"Hardly, I have not forgotten your previous insults and I will be avenged. No, I offer you only pain and misery… but your friends I will spare, I will even give up my plans for the blade, if only you agree to become my new host."

"You seem to have a host already," Arvael scoffed.

"This pathetic thing, weak and limited in this form, my true majesty would burn it out in hours. But you, a Space Marine body would serve me well. More your telekinetic powers are bound to the world, you could be my vessel for endless change. My perfect host."

"You overplay your hand!" Arvael sneered, "I rejected you as a boy and I reject you now. I will deny you to my dying breath!"

Harbinger grinned, "But this time I have an incentive: Your Master Echeb."

Arvael's retort died on his lips and his throat dried up as he gasped, "You have Echeb?"

"It was a hard battle, but I subdued him in the end. Echeb is my prisoner, my unwilling sacrifice. I will lay him out and slit his throat as part of my rituals, unless you agree to my terms."

"You lie, you always lie," Arvael hissed.

"I have no need to lie, when the truth is so much more painful to hear," Harbinger chuckled, "Agree to become my host and I will release your beloved master, alive and uncorrupted. Moreover I will abandon Holdfast and depart, never to return."

"You take me for a fool," Arvael hissed, "You would steal my flesh and enact your plans anyway."

"Tempting…" Harbinger rolled over his tongue, "But bargains are essential to my being, Tzeentch binds his Daemons to abide by the terms of any deal we strike, you know this to be true. If you chose to agree then I must keep to the terms of our contract."

Arvael snorted, "I also know your kind excel at getting around such limitations, twisting the letters of any deal and contorting semantics until you find a way to violate the spirit of the agreement. You swore to leave Holdfast, but you never said anything about forsaking your plot, so you would simply start again somewhere else, or have another enact your scheme by proxy."

"You are getting smarter," Harbinger chuckled, "But such things would take time, days and weeks and months your compatriots could use to thwart my machinations. Time you could exploit to subvert my will."

Arvael sneered as he growled, "I have nothing for you save death. Begone Daemon and trouble me no more."

Harbinger didn't seem affronted as he said, "Your Master's life for yours, and precious time. Think about it for a while then when you decide to trade come find me. Halfway between the mountain and the rim, widdershins of the great gate that fronted the Inquisition's base. I look forward to seeing you soon."

Harbinger's image faded into nothing and Arvael's fists clenched in anger. The Daemon had returned, his most ancient and personal nemesis had come back to plague him. That Harbinger would believe Arvael would agree to any bargain insulted the Librarian; he would rather die than allow such filth to prevail. And yet he knew they would meet again soon, of this he was certain. Filled with anger Arvael hissed, "Oh, we'll see each other, have no doubt of that. I am going to hunt you down and rescue Master Echeb. Then I'm going to kill that pathetic host so painfully even a Daemon would fear to tread in the Materium ever again!"