Chapter VIII
Eva's head pounded. Had she been beheaded this time? Unlikely, if that were the case it would be her neck that was hurting. No, judging by the splitting pain and where it was located, her skull had likely been split open. That was the fifth time. The last thing she remembered before blacking out was that Eldar commander bringing its axe down on her.
She couldn't remember how many of them there were, but it was far too many. Still, the xenos had stood little chance against the Sisters of the Ebon Chalice. Fifteen sisters fell in the first volley, but they were the only casualties. On the other hand, dozens then hundreds of xenos were slaughtered. Eva's plasma pistol claimed twenty enemies, and her chainsword another twelve.
It was then that the enemy champion had set upon her. She blocked his first blow and his second before striking back. Her blade had slashed his left leg, hampering his movement. Unfortunately, her second strike failed to land as the Eldar ducked and slashed her at the knees. She sank to the ground in agony and, as she looked up, she saw the blade falling towards her and the last thing she heard was the loud crack of her helmet splitting just before everything went dark.
She prayed that she was on the victorious side. Though she had never been in one of their dungeons, she had heard far too many stories about the horrors conducted within those evil places. She feared few things but those dens of cruelty and sadistic brutality haunted her dreams.
As her arms and legs regained feeling, she twitched them to see if they were bound. They were not. Either she was in friendly hands or her captors had not yet seen fit to restrain her. As the pain cascaded over her and subsided, she fluttered her eyes open and tried to look about.
The first thing she saw was a tall, hulking figure standing near her. At first, she thought it might be an Astartes. But the silhouette was clearly unarmored and dressed in what appeared to be robes of some kind. It might have been a xenos for all she knew and the lack of any discernable facial features prevented any accurate identification.
The figure moved forward and came into better view. The first thing that Eva could see clearly was the person's hands. They were clearly the hands of an Astartes. The individual was dressed in robes of black and white with the cruciform symbol of the Black Templars emblazoned upon them. Though Eva looked up at the man's face, the ceiling lamps backlit the features and hid it in shadow. It was only when the man took her hand in his, did she recognize him.
"Am I at the Emperor's side?" she asked, rhetorically.
"Not yet," said Stephen, warmly. "I hope you don't mind."
"Normally, I would. But not this time. Help me up please."
Stephen placed a hand in the center of her back, took her arm and helped Eva sit up. Though her back didn't hurt, her spine still popped and she grunted.
"Are you alright?" asked Stephen.
"I'm fine," assured Eva. As she expected, she was dressed in burial garb. And while she didn't mind it, she didn't much care for the outfit. It was austere and stiff, clearly made to be put on a corpse. "Did you see anything?"
"What?" asked Stephen, taken aback.
"You know what I mean." He did.
"Oh, no. Of course not." It was true this time. She had already been dressed when he arrived.
"How long was I dead?"
"Less than a day." In fact, the corsairs had fled less than twelve hours prior. In that time, Winulf, Serrilda and Heinrich had met with the captains of the Imperial naval vessels they had aided. The lead commander was an Admiral Jolene Balthazar, who was originally from Mordian. Having Mordian troops along made the introductions far easier. The flotilla had been tracking the Eldar for months.
The raiders had made the mistake of attacking Mordian itself! Originally, they had come with only six ships and were easily repelled. The Admiral had then set off in pursuit of them with nine Imperial Battleships and cruisers. Only too late did they realize that they were being drawn into a trap.
Without warning, a dozen enemy vessels surrounded them and opened fire. The fleet was crippled and the enemy fled into the Warp. It took the fleet a week to make repairs.
The ships were eventually repaired and the fleet followed the enemy into the Immaterium. Weeks later, they finally emerged into real space and into yet another ambush! One vessel, the cruiser Emperor's Mercy was destroyed in the first salvo. Three more were damaged, including Admiral Balthazar's command vessel, Litany of Intercession.
The flotilla managed to strike down two enemy vessels, though the enemy's maneuvers made targeting difficult. And soon a second vessel, Shield of the Sigilite, was destroyed. They then took down two more enemy vessels when they detected a warp rift opening near their location. Fearing that it was additional xenos, two vessels, Lord of Sanctity and Iron Heart, took aim at it. When they realized that it was only the three vessels of the Crusade fleet, they stood down. Unfortunately, this left the Iron Heart vulnerable and it was obliterated immediately after the Crusader vessels completed warp translation. Thankfully, it was the last of the Imperial vessels to be lost.
The Ardent Blade, Saint's Embrace, and Virtue of Steel were all boarded, but all managed to repel their attackers. In fact, to Stephen's embarrassment, the Mechanicus had suffered fewer casualties than the Templars. All told, twelve Templars fell to the xenos while only five Skitarii were slain. Additionally, nineteen Sisters and twenty-seven guardsmen had fallen.
Many had wanted to pursue the attackers once they retreated. However, Winulf had talked them out of it, reminding them that their mission came first.
Stephen relayed the whole story to Eva.
"Then, when do we arrive at out destination?" she asked.
"At least four more hours," said Stephen, helping her to her feet.
The door trundled open and Veridiah stepped through, followed by a trio of serfs, who bore Eva's arms and accoutrements.
Stephen had no idea what world Veridiah came from, but it was likely a fortress world. The look in her eyes was the same mixture of cold efficiency and cruel humor he had seen in the gaze of thousands of Imperial Soldiers on every battlefield on which he had served. Her hair was shaved on both sides of the scalp and left short down the middle. Unlike Eva, Veridiah's scalp kept its natural blackness. Her walk had intent and purpose, similar to that of a Commissar.
"Brother Stephen," she greeted, with a nod.
"Sister Veridiah," responded Stephen, returning the gesture.
"Canoness."
"Veridiah," said Eva.
"It's good to have you awake."
"If you'll excuse me," said Stephen, passing the three serfs and exiting. The door rumbled shut behind him and he went for the lift.
Meanwhile, the serfs and Veridiah helped Eva out of her burial clothes and back into her armor. As the final piece was fitted into place and the serf girded Eva with her weapons, she noticed that something was amiss.
"Where is my sword?" demanded Eva, the chainblade was not where it should have been.
"About that," said Veridiah. "The Tech-Priest has brought it back aboard the ship. But he says that he wishes to return it to you, personally."
"Why, exactly?"
"He would not say. Though, he was quite insistant."
"Very well." Eva hoped that Heinrich had a very good reason for withholding her weapon. The serfs finished armoring her and departed.
"Now," said Veridiah. "To the strategeum."
The two exited the chamber and went directly for the lift. Two levels up, Stephen joined them, now changed into his armor. However, there was a problem which Verediah noticed before Eva did.
"Champion," she said. "I don't know if you've noticed, but…"
"Is my gorget loose?" asked Stephen, as if he needed too.
"Of course, it is!" growled Eva, not at Stephen, but the servitor whose processing wafer she wanted to rip out. She jammed the armor piece back into position. Stephen briefly questioned his prank but quickly put the idea aside.
Five levels up, they exited into the strategeum's hallway. Though it was nowhere nearly as ornate as the one aboard the Persephone, it was still worthy of admiration.
Both walls were covered by a mural depicting the Great Crusade. Beginning with the Treaty of Mars, crossing into the finding of the Primarchs. Save for the second and eleventh, whose panels depicted Templar insignia. Each panel was wrought from silvered steel, inlayed with bronze, copper, brass and iron. The last two panels depicted the wounding of Magnus and the death of Horus. The door into the strategeum was taken up by a massive Templar insignia rendered in blackened iron and silvered steel, surmounted by an image of the Holy Emperor enthroned, rendered in brass, bronze and iron. Stephen, Eva and Veridiah all made the sign of the Aquila before the door opened.
"Champion, sisters!" greeted Frainz, overjoyed to see them. "It's good to see you all."
"Thank you, Captain," said Veridiah.
Frainz's face was naught but scar tissue and he was leaning on a cane.
Beside him stood Captain Etzel. She wore the battle dress uniform of her homeworld, accented by a pair of officer's epaulets. Her brown hair was immaculately wrapped in a bun which peeked out from under her cap. Her steely blue eyes pierced the air as a nova blast pierced the void. Even the Astartes quailed under her gaze. One of the few who did not was Commissar Aleron, who stood to her right.
Like his Krieger charges, he wore the gas mask synonymous with the death world. As his station dictated, his mask was plated in electrum. The rest of his uniform was the traditional black, red and gold overcoat and armor of the commissariate. The only difference was at his belt. He carried the standard laspistol, but in place of a service blade, he was girded with a trenching tool. He reminded Stephen of his dear uncle, Aylward. Though, Aleron was some inches taller.
Across from him stood Serrilda, her helmet maglocked to her belt. A jagged scar now crossed her face slantways over the bridge of her nose. It was her reward for slaying an Eldar witch. Its flail had caused the wound, but an attempt at a second strike had opened her up for a counterstroke. One thrust of Serrilda's chainsword opened the Witch's innards and pureed them into so much diced offal. With her dying breath, she had attempted to cast a spell on Serrilda.
But the canoness slapped a hand over the Witch's mouth.
"Save your breath, witch," she had snarled. "You're magic has no effect on me."
With that, the Witch had gasped, blood spurting from her mouth, through Serrilda's fingers and she perished. Unfortunately, upon seeing their leader fall, her subordinates had charged, rather than retreating. But they stood little chance without their commander and were massacred. Only a handful escaped and, as per Winulf's orders, the Sisters did not pursue them. Though not without complaint.
As for Winulf, he too was present. Though he had missed the initial attack, he had not been completely deprived of combat. In the middle of the battle, five enemy champions had infiltrated the command bridge. The quintet had made quick work of the few Modian and Krieg guardsmen present, but the Marshal had proven more difficult.
The first champion had rushed Winulf only to meet his fist with a crack of shattering armor and bone. The xenos' head went flying, trailing blood and spinal fluid, as its compatriots surged forward. The second one met the head of Winulf's Thunder Hammer directly in the chest. Its armor burst open and bone exploded out of the backplate. The third and fourth had their legs shattered and their skulls struck down into their spinal columns, which now protruded from their backsides. The fifth one, though, proved more skilled.
The warrior slashed, parried and dodged with little effort. Evading each blow and landing several of its own, three in Winulf's arms and two to his head. However, its luck soon ran out.
An attempt to strike at Winulf's legs ended with it being pinned under his left boot. The Marshal took his time, crushing each of the Eldar's limbs one by one under his right boot, before finally stomping its shrieking face into a wet, bloody pulp.
As he stood over his slain foe, he heard the rapid register of a lasgun behind him, accompanied by animalistic screeches and wet splatters of lasbolts on flesh. He turn to see the death throes of a most hideous creature. It resembled a crab, but without pincers and made entirely of human flesh! It was the size of a large canine and had eight long, spindly legs made of bone and tipped with claws. Its head was a human skull, albeit, inverted with only the teeth visible, but extended, mutantly, into razor sharp fangs.
The creature squealed, weakly and died. As Winulf looked about, he noticed at least a dozen or more of the creatures. All were collapsed in heaps of flesh with smoking holes where the lasbolts had struck them. Propped up against a nearby control lecturn, lasrifle pressed to his shoulder, was Frainz.
Blood trickled from the edge of his mouth and his cap lay on the deck at his feet. The jacket of his uniform was torn almost to shreds and the rest was in a similar state. The rips and tears were accentuated by matching ones in his skin. Apparently, the xenos had left him for dead and the creatures were also convinced of his demise. It was to their detriment that they had done so, and now they had been massacred by a single guardsman.
With what might have been his final breath, Frainz had smiled and saluted Winulf. He had then gone limp and his arm had dropped. However, before he could go to the Emperor's side, Winulf lifted him from the deck and sprinted for the infirmary. Five hours of tedious work later, Frainz awoke, covered in scars, but breathing and with the undying respect of the Marshal.
The group was gathered around the central hololith and most were facing towards the head of the room where Heinrich Alpha-Sigma and Iona 91A stood.
Iona's left arm appeared to be a new one, without the barest hint of oil stain or scorch mark. Her radium pistols were noticeably absent, though she was still girded with her power sword.
Meanwhile, Heinrich stood at the lith's direct head with his robes pulled close about him. Eva noticed that he had only one servo arm while his other ended at the first main joint. Not only that, but the number of his mechadendrites appeared to have been reduced, significantly. His eye lenses were dark, as though he were sleeping and his head was bowed as in deep contemplation.
"Sister Eva," greeted Iona. "We've been waiting for you."
Heinrich's eye lenses promptly lit up and his head rose. "Ah, Canoness," he said. "I'm certain that you are curious as to why we have requested to meet you here."
"All that I know is that it has something to do with Harbinger," said Eva.
"Harbinger?" questioned Iona.
"The blade," replied Heinrich. "Yes, please come forward."
The others made way for her as Eva crossed to the Tech-Priest.
"You're likely aware that we have repaired the blade," Said Heinrich.
"I am," confirmed Eva. "What I am not aware of is why it was not returned to me at once."
"That is understandable and justified. The truth of the matter is, something… odd happened during the reforging process."
"Odd? What do you mean?"
"It's best if you see it for yourself." His robes parted and from inside he produced the power sword, sheathed in a black leather scabbard stamped with an emblem of the Ebon Chalice wrought in blackened iron on a golden backplate. The straps were of the same black leather and attached by polished brass rings. The scabbard's tip and mounts were also of polished brass. Into the leather were stitched fleur-de-lis emblems. It wasn't the scabbard Eva remembered.
"We were forced to manufacture another scabbard," said Heinrich. "The original was… damaged."
"Damaged?" demanded Eva. That scabbard had served her for nearly a century, how had it been damaged? "By whom?"
"By… Harbinger." The statement made the entire room fall silent. How was that even possible?
"Explain," said Eva.
"When we placed the blade back into it the scabbard… split open. So we stitched it back together and tried once more, but it burst into flame."
"The scabbard or the blade?"
"Yes."
"And… why did it do that?"
"Take a look for yourself." He held the sword out and Eva took it gently. She looked over the weapon over for a moment before unsheathing it. The blade looked the same, aside from a raindrop pattern in the metal. But as Eva looked closer she noticed a faint glow in the blade It appeared like the glow of a distant flame. Then she pressed the activation rune.
Instantly, the blade ignited, not with the crackling blue energy typical of a power sword, but with glowing orange flames! The heat caused several of those present to recoil in fear. Stephen stared into the flames and soon became lost in them. When he came to his senses, he was on his knees, making the sign of the Aquila and bowing towards the sword. More surprising, everyone else was doing this as well, even the Mechanicus. The only person not making the sign was Eva, who held the blade before her with both hands and bowed towards it.
"What is going on?" asked Stephen. At this, everyone looked up and realized what was happening. One by one, they all awkwardly stood to their feet.
Eva deactivated the sword and slowly lowered it. She held the blade in both hands, staring at it with a mixture of fear and reverence.
"What was that?" asked Stephen, also eyeing the weapon.
"The Emperor's flame," said Eva, almost in a whisper.
"Are you sure?"
"It has to be. Nothing else can do that."
"But how did this happen?"
"We are uncertain," said Heinrich. "We placed it within the forge after repairing the power pack and when we removed it, it was like this. Perhaps we should have set the forge to a lower temperature."
"No," said Eva. "You did the right thing. The blade has been reincarnated. I named it Harbinger, for it was meant to portend the doom of the Emperor's foes and mine. It clove the bodies of ork, Eldar, Tau, Tyranid and heretic. It broke the bones of the greatest champions, from Necron Plasmancer to Black Legion Terminator. And ever has it been by my side. Now it has been reborn, filled with the Emperor's wrath. It was once called Harbinger and it shall continue to be so. It shall bring down the fury of the Emperor of Mankind upon the heads of those who defy him and his warriors. Henceforth, its name will be Retribution. And it will bring such upon the Emperor's foes."
"Well said," agreed Stephen. "And maybe, it will impress our new friends."
Eva sheathed the blade.