Incantator Congressus Chapter 45

Eight days they endured in the wilderness, eight days of skirmishes and running fights in the empty barrens. On the first day they picked off roaming cultists bands, left to wander aimlessly without direction. On the second they disposed of a pair of Possessed, a fierce fight that left them battered and weary. On the third day they witnessed flights of gunships flying away, taking the remaining Traitor Marines back to the stars. A few hours later a bright star signalled a ship running up its drives, the Traitors turning their backs on Holdfast and leaving their mortal servants to die uncared for in their wake. After five more days of skirmishes the heavens were lit by three more bright stars, the Inquisition's task force coming to investigate, more ships than expected and faster too, but welcome nonetheless.

Arvael stood wearily in the passenger compartment of an Aquila as they climbed out of Holdfast's atmosphere. A typical Inquisitorial shuttle, dispatched to collect them. Vox contact had been weak, their armour struggling to reach orbit, but they had spoken to the leaders of the task force and made their initial reports. Blunt words had been exchanged followed by a terse command to await extraction, and so a shuttle had been sent to retrieve them. Arvael was glad of it, the idea of leaving this cold and barren planetoid filling him with relief. Too many had died, too much had been lost for him to think of Holdfast with anything but regret. Best to leave it in the past.

There was a loud sigh from Chamat who muttered, "Servitor piloted. They really don't trust us."

Ashuay snorted, "Four survivors, left after a Chaos attack wipes out the entire base. If the situation were reversed, I wouldn't trust us."

Arvael gulped, "They wouldn't suspect us of taint, they couldn't, not after all we've been through."

Yet Echeb cautioned, "It is exactly that why they must be suspicious. This is right and true, there is no such thing as too much caution when dealing with Daemons."

Ashuay snorted, "I've seen enough of Daemons to last a lifetime. Three of their filthy breed in one place, to think one of them was…"

"Watch your words," Echeb hissed, "The walls have ears. Remember your oaths and keep a still tongue."

That cut off debate, for there was much that could not be said. All four had sworn to never speak of Imix's Apotheosis, knowing full well the dire implications. It made Arvael sad but Imix must be listed among the honoured dead, it was all they could offer to their former comrade. Arvael wondered where Imix's wandering spirit roamed and tried to forget that one of his future visions had claimed his shade would never find the peace it deserved. Memory stirred and he recalled Imix speaking of looking into the Eye of Destiny and seeing only mist and shadow, perhaps a warning none had understood. Arvael had no answers and was growing sick of prophecy, if precognition led to more questions than truths, he decided he was better off without it.

Chamat broke the silence to declare, "I think we are well shot of Holdfast. I plan to return to my Brothers and get my armour properly consecrated, there's only so much I can do in the field."

Arvael bowed his head and said, "The Steel Confessors are brave and true, I would welcome your strong right arm again in the future."

Chant replied cautiously, "The Crusade carries us ever onwards, but if the opportunity presents itself I would fight beside you again."

Arvael was heartened to hear it but Ashuay sneered, "Insipid sentiment. The Fire Lords have no truck with callow wretches. You have display poor judgement at every turn, from trusting that Smoke Jaguar to arguing to save Echeb."

"Oh?" Echeb enquired with a raised eyebrow.

Arvael gulped, "When you were captured the Daemon tried to lure us in, tempting us to save you. We… decided against it. I argued but could not deny it in the end. The trap was too obvious, we elected to leave you to die. Events superseded our choice, but we chose duty over friendship."

"I see," Echeb murmured, "My life or your duty… I commend your choice, even though the Daemon outplayed you. You are finally learning what it takes to be a Librarian. Perhaps one day you will be ready to face the truly hard decisions."

Suddenly there was a shift underfoot as the shuttle changed heading and Chamat started, "We're veering off course."

Ashuay peered out a porthole and declared, "We're not heading for the Black Ship. There's a smaller cruiser off her port bow, they're taking us to them."

"Any markings on her?" Arvael pressed.

"I see the sigil of the Ordo Malleus."

"Malleus," Chamat spat, "Worst of the worst. Brace yourselves, this is going to be rough."

Arvael waited as the shuttle drew nearer the unknown vessel, unable to do a thing to change course. The shuttle was servitor-piloted and even if they managed to subvert the Machine Spirit they were a tiny craft in comparison, one burst from the ship's close defence turrets would blow them away. All the Librarians could do was wait as their shuttle was drawn in, passing into an open hanger as an atmospheric integrity shield passed over them. The craft settled down and the Librarians gathered themselves, stepping out the rear hatch to face their hosts. What they found was marvellous and unnerving in equal measure.

Arvael stepped out and found himself facing five storm bolters, attached to the wrists of silver armoured warriors. Their plate glistened with thrice-blessed oils and bore many markings of abjuration and piety. Each boasted a heraldic shield on a pauldron, displaying individual panoply. Hexagrammatic runes were woven into that armour, making Arvael's psychic senses tingle and they bore long polearms in their free hands. He could hear their minds singing sharpness to their blades, for each was a psyker of dazzling purity and incorruptible resolve. Few in the galaxy could name them, but Arvael was privy to the existence of the secret sons of Titan, the Ordo Malleus' elite Daemonhunters. An unbreakable shield against the darkness and the Emperor's last blade, forged in defiance of fate: the Grey Knights.

"Nobody make any sudden moves," Echeb hissed.

"Trust me, I wasn't planning to," Chamat muttered.

From behind the five armed psyker-warriors stepped another pair. One was a mortal man, clad in a black body glove, shrouded by a long leather overcoat. His face was scarred and his hair lank and greasy but his eyes were hard and unforgiving. The other loomed over him, clad in silver plate, fitted with many esoteric icons. His aura was achingly bright, like glacial meltwater, but at his hip hung a thick tome that burned with dark significance. A Prince among psykers, a Librarian of the Grey Knights. Arvael knew him as Hypras but familiarity would buy them no mercy.

The Storm Bolters did not waver a hair as the man spat, "You have a lot of explaining to do!"

Echeb faced him coolly and replied, "I would know my accuser's name."

"I am Inquisitor Serak, Ordo Malleus," The man hissed, "And you have defiled Holdfast!"

"We did nothing!" Ashuay exclaimed, "The forces of Chaos attacked and we fought back."

"Chaos invades our most secure bastion, without being blown away, unlikely! It is more likely that treason undermined our defence from within, and here stand four survivors, alive and well."

Echeb drew in a breath and said, "Treachery there was, and those responsible have paid. We survived, no more no less. The Ordo can sort out who was responsible for what, after you have cleansed Holdfast and secured the relics below."

"Do not think to give me orders. Nobody is setting foot on Holdfast until I have answers," Serak growled.

Echeb stated coldly, "You have our initial reports, we shall be happy to debrief in full, when guns are not pointing at our heads."

Serak snarled, "I received your thin tissues of lies. Tales of rival Heretic forces battling over Holdfast, treachery and betrayal and knives in the back. It is all too far-fetched for my liking."

Echeb replied sternly, "Believe it, the fractious nature of Chaos spelt their doom. Infighting has ever been their greatest weakness. Traitor fought traitor, sorcery against sorcery and Daemon against Daemon."

Suddenly Hypras broke his silence and said, "The Daemons, tell me of them."

Echeb faces the Grey Knight and said, "Hail son of Titan, I am heartened to see you. Though your arrival is most unexpected."

"Our Prognosticars foresaw the arising of an Infernus Malificar and our nearest ship was despatched to prevent a Majoris incursion. Alas, warp tides were unfavourable and we arrived too late. But that does not matter, what matters is that you are dodging my enquiry."

Echeb clenched his jaw for a moment then said, "We encountered many Daemons of the minoris arcana, bound to host bodies. Many remain below. Of significance there were three, a Daemon Prince called Ozymandias, a Greater Daemon called Harbinger and an unknown entity, called Nightshade."

"Nightshade," Hypras mused, "A name of no weight, it is not numbered in the Liber Daemonica. What power of the warp did the entity pay homage to?"

Arvael butted in to say, "We never found out, Nightshade came unbidden to battle his rivals. He showed no interest in mortal affairs. I believe he is disinterested in the worlds of men."

"Only a blind man assumes Daemons are benign," Hypras growled, "A dead man is he who lowers his guard."

Chamat chimed in, "The lad is naïve, but essentially correct. The thing's only interest was to battle its own kind. Of its allegiance, we can say nothing."

"Nothing?!" Hypras hissed accusingly.

Ashuay sighed, "Nothing, it left upon defeating its foes. With any grace we will never see it again."

Hypras conceded, "Without more information we can only record its name as a potential threat and expect the worst. But what of Ozymandias? A Mediocris Infernales fiend, a hated ascended with a long history of slaughter."

Arvael answered, "He was bound within a weapon by his own minion. Jubila, he…"

"I care not for the affairs of living foes," Hypras retorted, "Daemonic threats are my jurisdiction."

"He defiled the Gladius Incandor!" Chamat spat.

"Relics are Adeptus Astartes concerns, capturing Ozymandias is mine. His threat has not ended by being bound. So long as that sword is unclaimed it is a danger. But not the greatest…"

"Harbinger," Echeb finished the thought.

"Indeed, Harbinger, a Daemon of the vilest courts of the Warp: Grandis Daemonium. That fiend has burned worlds and laid low armies, lives beyond counting ended by its schemes. Its manifestation was what drew our Prognosticator's attention. We are sworn to confront that filth at any cost. It must be stopped and you hold the key to its ultimate defeat. Harbinger's True Name is known to you."

Arvael opened his mouth but was stopped by a raised hand as Echeb countered, "We did indeed overhear the revelation and I would share it with you… under the right circumstances."

"You do not make demands of Titan!" Hypras barked angrily as his hand fell to his dread book, "True Names are Daemon's greatest weakness. Every one uncovered by my order is diligently recorded and preserved for all time. Future battles can be won or lost with such a tool, worlds saved and Grey Knights yet unborn spared from death and defeat. I will not negotiate or bargain for my Brother's lives: you will give me the name!"

Echeb seemed unflappable in the face of Titan's rage and he replied, "But I ask so little, merely swift passage aboard your ship back to our Chapters."

"What?!" Serak spluttered, "What of Holdfast, what of the incursion?! You cannot walk away from this mess you have made."

"A full and detailed report will be made available," Echeb replied, "But I suspect the Inquisition will prove reluctant to let us go afterwards. I have no intention to languish within one of your gaols. I shall entertain your questions, once we are safely away from here."

"Done," Hypras declared.

Serak's eyes bulged as he spat, "You can't do that! The God-Emperor's…"

"Blood is in my veins," Hypras snarled, "Do not think your shiny Rosette gives you any authority over me. The Grey Knights cooperate with the Ordo Malleus, but do not make the mistake of assuming we are subservient to you. That name is worth a hundred bases, a thousand Inquisitors. I would send a million men like you to their deaths and consider it a fair exchange."

"Then I have your word?" Echeb pressed.

"It is given," Hypras stated as he waved his Brothers to stand down their arms.

Echeb turned to the Librarians and said, "Soon we must part ways, I thank you for your service and expect to see you on the battlefields someday."

Ashuay snorted, "You may do, but do not assume me to be your ally. The Fire Lords do not forget slights and I shall remember these days and be watching."

Chamat sighed, "Ignore him, he just loves picking fights. The Steel Confessors shall know of your valour and that we have sound allies in Echeb and Arvael."

Arvael replied, "These days have been dark and onerous, but I would fight with you again. For those we have lost, Ghyrun, Jhur, Sythah, Hyhush… Imix."

Hypras butted in to say, "You will have plenty of time to make goodbyes on the voyage. Give me Harbinger's True Name: immediately."

"Arvael," Echeb prompted.

Arvael drew in a breath and began to recite the syllables he had committed to memory. Long and convoluted they were but he repeated them perfectly, the sounds ingrained in his memory. He had scored the name into his thoughts, repeating it hourly until it was a part of his soul. He knew it would be needed, for he was sure Harbinger was not gone. In his bones dwelt the certainty they would meet again and, armed with the True Name, Arvael would not be found wanting next time.