Incantator Congressus Chapter 43

In the shattered ruins of Fulcrum the survivors gathered, their losses grievous and their wounds many. Worse were the injuries to their spirit, the keen ring of defeat dolling like a funeral bell. They could not pretend they had achieved anything of note; they had failed to preserve the relic, allowing it to be defiled with dark sorcery. They had not even stopped the Daemonic ritual, that had been the random intervention of another Chaos warband. That four still lived was scant consolation to their honour, the shame of this day would linger forever.

Arvael sighed as he stood at the edge of the maze, probing its interior with his scrying. That he was able to do so told much. Elongated dimensions were collapsing into themselves, the maze becoming mundane and ordinary. With its Daemonic creators banished the animating power was fading, soon the Librarians would be able to walk out as easily as strolling down a country lane.

Arvael withdrew his spirit back to his body, feeling the weight of his bones settle upon him. He drew in a breath and said, "Give it another ten minutes and I think we can leave."

"And then?" Chamat sniffed, "We're still trapped on this rock, surrounded by cultists and heretics and traitors."

"Surely they will scatter without their leaders, turning on each other to kill their own," Arvael argued.

"Hah, this is no shallow dramaturgical performance! They will be out there, waiting for us. We four will have to fight for another twenty-five days to survive."

"Maybe not so long," Arvael mused.

They both turned and looked towards Echeb. The Chief Librarian was sitting cross-legged on the ground, staff laid over his knees. His eyes were closed as he communed with the stars, sending his thoughts across the infinite gulfs of space. Only the most skilled and learned Space Marines could attempt to send Astropathic messages, but Echeb was such a potentate. Now the Daemonic interference had vanished he was sending a distress call to the nearest Imperial outpost, seeking aid.

"Do you think he will reach anyone?" Chamat pondered.

"With the Daemons gone it should be possible," Arvael sighed, "But what shall we say when aid arrives?"

Chamat cast his gaze across the shattered ruins and muttered, "The Inquisition will be filled with questions. How this happened, who is responsible, what is this place?"

"I think they will be most keen on that last part," Arvael grimaced, "When they find out what Holdfast is and what it can do. Assuming it still functions after the damage inflicted."

Chamat snorted, "They'll find a way to fix it, or kill themselves trying. I am not sure what's more disturbing, the Inquisition blowing itself halfway to Halo Zone, or seeing the realised potential of Holdfast in their grubby hands."

Arvael lowered his head and lamented, "The other Chapters will have questions too. How their kindred died. All those lost in the mountain but especially the Disciples of Caliban, the Destroyers, the Smoke Jaguars, the Charnel Guard… the Storm Giants."

Suddenly a fierce growl broke out, "On that last count you had better be ready to fight for your honour!"

Arvael gritted his teeth as he saw Ashuay approaching. The Primaris had been tending to Sythah's remains, trying to see if there was any token to salvage for his kin to inter. From his irate look he hadn't found much and was most aggrieved about it. He stared at Arvael and hissed, "When the Storm Giants hear what you did they will want blood!"

"What I did?!" Arvael spat, "I did nothing."

"Exactly, the Daemon-kin was right there in front of us, but you hesitated. You stood back and waited, as we gave battle."

Arvael was incensed and hissed, "You blame me for Sythah's death?!"

"Had you struck at the filth at once we could have finished it off before it gathered its strength. You gave it precious seconds to recover, Sythah's death is on your head."

Arvael spat back, "And you struck prematurely, I was getting through to Imix, I was bringing him back from the brink. Had you let me speak I could have saved him."

"He killed Sythah!" Ashuay spat.

"He was defending himself!" Arvael protested, "You attacked first!"

Ashuay's lip curled as he accused, "You show sympathy for a Daemon."

"We don't know if he truly has become a Daemon. I don't know what he is. Phantom, wraith, spectre, a walking memory… maybe something we don't even have a term for."

"None of that matters," Ashuay hissed, "Imix embraced the Warp, becoming an enemy of the Emperor. My Chapter always knew the Smoke Jaguars were unsound, the rumours of their dark rites have never faded. Here at last is proof of their tainted nature, when my Brothers hear of this 'Imix Nightshade' we shall call for Excommunication. The Fire Lords will burn Copan XII to the ground and cut this diseased branch of the Imperium off before the rot spreads."

Arvael's fists clenched as he exclaimed, "Nightshade was helping us! He killed Jubila, he helped us close the rift. He saved our lives… what kind of Daemon would do that?!"

Suddenly Chamat broke in to say, "A cunning one, one that wanted to be brought into the Imperial fold. There is no better way to worm into the ranks of good men than to save their lives. For all we know this was Harbinger's doing, a backup plan of some sort."

Arvael's jaw fell and he snapped, "You can't believe that Chamat."

"Can't I?" Chamat retorted, "Stranger things have happened. Chaos is insidious, ever willing to turn our virtues into vices, to pervert our noble ideals to fell purpose. Even if you are right, and Nightshade is no threat to mankind, what exactly would you do with him? You can't bring him back to an Imperial world, you can't induct him into your Chapter, or the inquisition. He is alien, unknowable, wild and untamed, a force of nature unbound by morality. He is not your pet!"

Arvael had no reply, all he could do was lower his head and accept the facts. It was then that Echeb opened his eyes and declared, "They are right, Nightshade has no place in the Imperium. It is of the warp and the Emperor decrees all things of the warp are inherently tainted. We could never trust such an entity; never turn our backs upon him. We can only treat him as any other Deamon, an enemy to be fought at every turn."

Arvael's jaw tightened as he protested, "You would have us hunt Imix down?!"

Echeb stood up and brushed his knees clean as he explained, "It is doubtful that we can follow Nightshade into the realms beyond. The best case we can expect is that he will stay gone, taking the promised revenge on the Traitors of Chaos. Should he choose to return to our worlds then we must drive him out. The warp must never be allowed free reign, this is the will of Him on Terra."

Arvael's protests died but Ashuay crowed, "We shall spread word of Imix's corruption, all Chapters will know of his perfidious nature. He shall find no shelter anywhere in the materium. As for the Smoke Jaguars, there shall be a reckoning, the Fire Lords will see to that."

Arvael's hearts fell but Echeb turned to him and snarled, "You will do no such thing. There will be no vengeful crusade, no burning of Copan XII. On the matter of Imix's change, you shall be silent!"

All blinked in surprise and Ashuay exclaimed, "I will not!"

"You must," Echeb commanded, "Else the Imperium shall implode!"

"You speak nonsense," Ashuay sneered.

But Echeb expounded, "Self-Apotheosis, the elevation of a mortal man to immortal spirit without external intervention. No boons of Chaos, no sacrificing of worlds or dark pacts with infernal princes. Merely a supremely powerful psyker, exerting his will. Imagine if such a thing becomes known, if men learn that such a thing is possible. We revile Chaos for the price it demands, but if there was another way to immortality, one not bound to the whim of the Ruinous Powers, all would seek it. The Imperium would implode, half the galaxy trying to learn the secret, the other half trying to stop them. Friend against friend, brother against brother, an ideological schism we could not survive."

"It wouldn't come to that," Ashuay denied.

"Wake up and smell the engine grease," Chamat scoffed, "The Inquisition already tears itself apart over books and swords. The secret of immortality, half of the Inquisitors would annihilate sectors to own that knowledge, and the other half would blow up the rest to bury it again. If word of Imix's altered state gets out you can forget the Indomitus Crusade, it will end in days and the scant chance to save the galaxy it represents will die. The very idea of self-apotheosis would shatter the Imperium."

Echeb concurred, "Only the Emperor is immortal, only the Emperor is forever. This is the bedrock of the rule of Terra: the Emperor walks in eternity and He does so alone! Knowledge of Imix's feat strikes at the foundation-stone of our civilisation. It cannot be permitted to spread beyond we four. On the matter of Imix's fate we must take binding oaths of silence, saying only that he fell in battle. The Smoke Jaguars will mourn the passing of their Shade-seer and in time elect another. The Inquisition will go back to squabbling over trivia, the Indomitus Crusade shall continue and the Imperium will endure, as it always has."

Arvael whispered sadly, "Imix deserves better."

Echeb consoled, "You can avoid smearing his memory, that is all you can do. Let his name be honoured among his kin, and left to rest in the past."

"And what shall we say of recent events?" Chamat asked pointedly.

"Tell the truth, just not the whole truth," Echeb replied, "When they come we tell the Inquisition of Harbinger and Jubila, the squabbling of Daemons and their mutual destruction. In the end they were defeated by an unknown entity, one not previously encountered. Then it disappeared. Let them make of that what they will."

Heads nodded in acceptance, even Ashuay somewhat begrudgingly. Chamat changed the subject asking, "About that, did you succeed in sending a message?"

"I did," Echeb answered, "And I got a reply. A Black Ship is being diverted as we speak; it should be here in a week or two, depending on warp currents."

"Two weeks alone on this cold planetoid," Ashuay muttered, "Alone with cultist dregs and leftover Traitors."

"Don't forget the Possessed," Arvael pointed out.

"Surviving that long will be a challenge," Chamat added, "Let alone cleansing Holdfast when they arrive."

Echeb he lifted his staff to declare, "We are four trained Battle-Psykers of the Adeptus Astartes, still a power to be reckoned with. We can make a start on cleansing this planetoid. The maze should be safe by now. There is yet the Emperor's work to be done, let us move out and begin this very day!"