Brothers

"We have arrived, Brother."

Brother. That was a form of address that I hadn't been called for years now.

I hadn't always been alone. An eternity ago, I had an entire legion who I could safely call brothers. I still recalled with perfect clarity the day when the Wolves came. I had lost many brothers then. To the claws and fangs of the Wolves, and to the Talons of the Emperor - the massive men and silent women in gleaming, gold armor scything through the ranks of red and gold as a farmer would reap stalks of grain. I still remembered the flames...the deaths as they tore through the shining city of Tizca.

More of the survivors of that tragedy were lost to Ahriman's Rubric. Unlike many of the others, I did not resent my brother for it. If he had not done anything, the Legion would have been lost. The results were certainly less than satisfactory, but he had halted the Legion's slide into madness and chaos. Their physical bodies might have been destroyed, but at least they were saved from a fate worse than death. I could still remember the fear that had permeated the Legion on the Planet of Sorcerers, the tension that filled the crackling air as we waited with dread to see which of us would devolve into a writhing mass of misshapen limbs and claws.

More than death, the brothers of my Legion feared the flesh-change.

"Brother?"

"Sorry." I turned around to face Acastus. "I was reminiscing."

The Sergeant nodded, his expression concealed beneath his horned helm. He was a good man, or at least I would like to think of him as one. I had rescued him and his Chapter, once of the Sapphire Drakes, from annihilation at the hands of the Inquisition. The Ordo Hereticus had deemed their Chapter too dangerous, particularly when there was an outbreak of psykers within their ranks. Their Librarium had swelled dangerously, with at least a quarter of the Chapter burgeoning uncontrollably with empyric energies.

Then the terrifying men and silent women in gold armor came. I did not know for what purpose they came, but it seemed that they were to deliver a company of Greyshields - of the new breed of Space Marines they called "Primaris." I did not know what happened to those Primaris Marines who were supposed to reinforce the Sapphire Drakes. I did not want to know.

What mattered was that shortly after the battleship, The Emperor's Deliverance, took up orbit, the warriors of the Adeptus Custodes and the Silent Sisterhood descended to destroy the Sapphire Drakes Chapter. Led by Inquisitor Natasha Nikova, they had assaulted the monastery-fortress of the Sapphire Drakes and tore them apart.

It was like Tizca all over again.

By the time my retinue of Scarab Occult Terminators and I had arrived, there was barely a company left of Sapphire Drakes to save. Even with an army of Rubricae at my command, they were no match for the superlative skill of the Custodian Guard, and the Sisters of Silence nullifed my psychic abilities. The mute Pariahs dealt more damage to my ranks of Rubric Marines than any Adeptus Astartes strike force over three centuries.

Even now,  my allies of the Dark Mechanicum were working to restore the broken armor that housed the souls of my long-gone brothers, nursing the automatons back to life.

In exchange for the damage, I had gained about a hundred followers. A Chaplain, whose faith in the Emperor remained strong despite the betrayal his Chapter had suffered, and over three dozen Librarians, consisting of Lexicaniums, Codiciers and Epistolaries, as well as the Chief Librarian himself, Makhat.

Three dozen Librarians. Out of a hundred surviving Space Marines. A highly disproportionate number of psykers in their ranks. They might as well be the Grey Drakes or Sapphire Knights.

"Chief Librarian Makhat wants to know what your next plan is," Acastus continued as I turned and strode away from the massive hololith that depicted the planet below us.

"I plan to..." I paused for a moment, and glanced back at the hololith. "...retrieve an artifact from Ceyzane. I thought I had already told you that."

"Aye, you did. But I believe Brother Makhat meant to ask how exactly you intend to achieve that." Acastus paused and snuck a peek at the hololith I had been studying. "As you know, the Emperor's Deliverance has followed us here. We have kept our distance for now, but no doubt they will also be descending to Ceyzane. I do not think they will simply allow you to waltz out of there with the artifact."

"Fair enough." Despite the weight and bulk of my tactical dreadnought armor, I moved surprisingly swiftly across the bridge. I could see another hololith displaying the Emperor-class battleship holding orbit over the yellowish world of Ceyzane. Our enemies had somehow beat us to his place despite our desperate flight from the Draconis Sector. Fortunately, I had already accounted for that. To be more precise, I had deliberately taken a detour with Honor of Tizca so that we would arrive over Ceyzane after the Emperor's Deliverance. There was a troublesome enemy down there that I wanted to avoid, and I figured it was better to leave them to the Custodes and Silent Sisterhood to deal with. "We do not need to face them in direct combat. Our objective is only to grab the Tome of Firdaus and leave."

"If only it will be that simple."

I turned around to look at the source of the rich voice. Makhat, also clad in heavy terminator armor, proceeded toward us, accompanied by Epistolary Egnis. Chronos accompanied them, his skull-masked helm off, but he continued to carry the accursed crozius that marked his office.

"Brothers," I greeted them. "I assume you intend to accompany me down to Ceyzane?"

"Of course," Chronos replied, his eyes narrowed. "As much as I hate to admit it, we are bound to you now, Sorcerer. You saved our lives, and we are honorbound to aid you."

"There is nowhere else for us to go," Makhat continued, shooting the Chaplain a look. "We cannot return to the Imperium."

"You say you remain loyal to the Emperor," Chronos growled. His voice, normally husky underneath a vox-grille, was somehow amplified several times in my battle barge's tactical office. He had always been a great orator, or so I had heard. "Even though I do not trust you, as long as our interests coincide, we will lend you a hand."

"I cannot speak for the rest of my Legion, but I assure you, I have always been loyal."

To the Emperor, probably, but mostly my loyalties lay with my own interests. Unlike the majority of my fellow Warlocks, and especially the father from whom my gene-seed was derived from, I did not bear any grudge to the Imperium who turned its back on us and set the Wolves on our world. I had always been loyal, envisioning the Imperium once more as a place of enlightenment...of knowledge. The Crimson King would certainly tear me apart if he realized my true allegiance, as well as a good number of my brothers, but the rest of them, such as Ahzek, were apathetic. Ahzek himself was obsessed with redemption, with undoing the Rubric, than vengeance. If he could make use of the Imperium, he would.

However, I could not trust the majority of my brothers with my vision. They were too short-sighted. Over the millennia, many of them had devolved into insanity, not of the flesh but of the mind. They harbored schemes and studied magic, conducting experiments of sadistic cruelty just to satiate their twisted desires and unending greed for knowledge. I sought knowledge, yes, but in the end it was a means to an end. And unlike my brothers, I did not enjoy torturing lesser beings and mortals for sorcerous experiments. I would like to think that I still retained some semblance of honor. Of...sanity.

Sanity was in short supply in Sortiarius.

Most of my brothers did not share my vision. That was why I mostly traveled alone, accompanied only by silent ranks of Rubricae. The soulless automatons were bound to my will, their personalities faint echoes silenced by the cold husks of their armor. They would never - could never betray me. Perhaps it was because I was Terran-born, like Ahzek, and had never grown up on Tizca. The Sorcerers with whom I shared my Legion were prone to betraying me. I still remembered Iskandar Khayon. It was not enough that he turned his back on us and joined the Black Legion instead. He had sought me out, threatened me, and attacked me when I refused his offer. I had barely escaped with my life then.

Ironically enough, that very same Iskandar was bound in a dungeon somewhere on Terra right now. Given his intellect and powers, I had no doubt that he had deliberately allowed himself to get captured. At least I wouldn't be running into him again, at least not for the near future.

However, Iskandar was far from the only one to stab me in the back. There were many others - comrades I had considered brothers by virtue of sharing the same genetic father and the heritage of sorcery passed down from the times of ancient Tizca. Tizca, before it was warped into a nightmarish hell on the Planet of Sorcerers. The men I had thought brothers had plotted my death, involving me in intricate schemes designed to usurp me of my battle barge, Honor of Tizca, and the Rubricae in my charge, as well as the myriad of daemonic artifacts and sorcerous tomes I had accumulated over millennia. The knowledge from the grimoires I had collected was enough to raze several systems, if I chose to use them.

My brothers coveted my...tools and weapons more than they treasured our bond. As such, it had beeen a long time since I had anyone called me brother. Except Ahzek. However, as always, Ahzek was off on his own somewhere, bringing his own thrallband - the Prodigal Sons - to raid Commorragh. Our interests rarely coincided. Like me, Ahzek Ahriman did not possess an obsessive hatred of the Wolves - only when our father recalled us did we reunite to make war on Fenris, but with Magnus's goals achieved, the both of us split up from the Legion to carry out our agendas. Ahzek might still possess the faintest shreds of loyalty to the Imperium, but these days he was more obsessed with redemption and the reversal of the Rubric, and like me, he knew that there was no turning back.

The Imperium would never accept us again.

The Sapphire Drakes did not know that, however. They probably suspected it, which was why they had accepted my offer and joined my Legion. A Chapter with three dozen surviving Librarians. Four times nine, the number of Tzeentch. This had to be a sign. I was sure it was. Furthermore, they still retained their loyalty to the Imperium, just as I did. That made them useful, especially for my purposes.

"If you lie..." Chronos snarled, trailing off. I could hear the warning in his tone. Far from being intimidated, I smiled before locking my helm into place. For a moment, darkness prevailed, and then my vision was lit up by auspexes and visual sensors.

"I am not from the Cult of Duplicity or Scheming. I told you, I am from the Cult of Magic."

"We will believe you for now," Makhat said, placing a hand on his chaplain's pauldron. He continued to stare at me, his gray eyes inscrutable. "But if we detect even a hint of treachery..."

"You can shoot me in the back," I replied almost cavalierly, and then shrugged. Or tried to, because such a gesture was all but impossible in the bulky Terminator armor I wore. "For all the good it would do. Again, you don't have to trust me. You don't have to follow me. You can stay in my battle barge and wait. Perhaps even take it for yourselves if you see fit, but at least don't leave me stranded on Ceyzane."

Makhat relaxed slightly. He almost smiled. "We will not resort to such...despicable means."

"I'm relieved to hear that. All right, I need to hurry before the Custodes find the Tome of Firdaus. I'll see you guys later."

"As I said, we will be following." Makhat fell into step beside me. He nodded to Acastus, who was beginning to speak over the vox, organizing several squads of Space Marines. "I'm sure you can use all the help you can."

"We will be better than those...automatons of yours." I could hear the disgust in Chronos's voice as he glanced toward the silent ranks of Rubric Marines and Scarab Occult Terminators who waited outside for me. I cocked an eyebrow, but he obviously couldn't see the expression through my helm.

"The more, the merrier," I replied. "Against the elite Custodian guard, we are going to need every advantage we can get. And unlike my Rubric Marines, if you guys get killed or maimed, it's not going to be as simple as pouring the dust back into the armor and patching up the broken parts."

The four Sapphire Drakes fell silent. Were they perhaps touched by my sentiments to keep them out of harm's way as much as possible? I guess so.

I wondered how they would react if they ever found out that I was the one who triggered the recent psychic awakening among their ranks, which was calculated to drive them into the palms of my hands while they were persecuted by the Inquisition. I certainly didn't expect the Emperor's own Custodian Guard to show up, but then again, I was never from the Corvidae back in the old days. I had always been steeped within the destructive fires of the Pyrae, and closer to the Order of Ruin.

*

The Mausoleum that held the Tome of Firdaus was under heavy fire when we arrived. To my complete lack of suprise, it was under siege by a plague company of the Death Guard. I had anticipated their presence, having known that their captain, a Chaos Lord called Gustav Poostule, coveted the same tome that I did.

To the barbaric Death Guard, the Tome of Firdaus contained the secrets of mutation, to encourage the development of sicknesses and spread a festering pox that would reanimate the living dead. Unimaginative and excessively cruel, as always. Typical of Nurgle's followers. The Tome of Firdaus could be used for so much more...for healing injuries. I was sure my brothers who were formerly of the Pavoni would appreciate having such a tome in their hands. Personally, I sought to improve my arts in biomancy, so that I could heal injuries without accidentally triggering mutations and transforming my patient into those which should not be named.

If I could obtain the secrets of the tome, I could teach them to the growing ranks of mortals who gathered in Prospero. My father had been recruiting psykers from across the Imperium, providing them a haven from persecution and execution from the fanatics and tyrants of the Ecclesiarchy. My aim was to benefit Mankind, to allow them to tap into their unlimited potential while avoiding the side-effects that often came with delving into the dark arts. The gods were a nefarious and greedy bunch, often seeking to monopolize the powers of the Warp. If I could figure a way to cheat them, I would.

The powers were for all to share, not for the dark gods and followers to hoard on their own.

From the distance, I could see the reactive mass shells from the Custodes' guardian spears smashing into the bloated bodies of Plague Marines. The diseases Astartes staggered, but they were disgustingly resilient. They continued to shamble forward, laying down a heavy bombardment that smacked off the aegis armors of the Custodians. Several of the Custodian Guard smashed into the lines of the rotting Plague Marines, scything them down. As durable as their swollen bodies were, even the vaunted Death Guard couldn't move again after being hacked and sliced into pieces.

They responded by stabbing with their plague knives, which failed to penetrate the golden armor of the Custodes. A Plague Sorcerer stepped forward, cackling as he unleashed a noxious mist upon the Custodes, but a squad of Sisters of Silence flanked him from the side, their power swords lashing out. In an instant, the diseased cloud vanished, the Sorcerer stumbling as if he had been hit. Then the Sisters' glowing power swords cut through him, beheading him. The headless Poxcaster staggered for a moment, as if still not realizing that he was dead, and then toppled over.

Even so, the Death Guard were indomitable, continuing to lay down suppressive fire. One of their daemon engines, a sickening tank that spewed diseased mortars, fired. A Custode vanished, his armor buckling. Even with his genehanced physiology, there was no way he could survive a direct hit from a tank shell.

The daemon engine didn't live for long. There was a howl from above, and then a Custodian Guard atop a Dawneagle jetbike descended and drove his spear into the massive tank. There was a shudder, even as the daemon engine continued to spit plague-filled gouts at pointblank range, but the jetbike rider was gone after gouging a massive hole in the machine. Putrid fluids spilled out of its ruptured howl, but the tank continued to fire. Spinning around, the Custodian unleashed a missile, the projectile streaking into the hole and detonating. The immolated plagueburst crawler shuddered and eventually went still.

The Death Guard were being massacred. We didn't have long before the Custodes and their Silent Sister allies finally reached the Mausoleum. Well, that was one of the pitfalls of being among the first few armies in a previously new edition. Without the proper updates, the poor Death Guard had fallen to rank among the low-tier armies. At least they were organizing themselves into Plague Companies and getting new Stratagems now.

"Over there," I told my brothers from the Sapphire Drakes. They nodded and continued around the trench. As per my plan, we were moving steathily, doing our best not to attract the attention of either Imperial forces or Death Guard. It might surprise most Loyalists, but I was not one who favored combat. As I said, I was a secret Loyalist, and any deaths I was forced to inflict upon the Imperium's defenders pained me.

That didn't mean I had any qualms taking their lives, of course. If necessary, I would slay them all for my thrallband to escape safely. That included my new brothers of the Sapphire Drakes.

To our surprise, when we neared the mauloseum, we no longer saw any Death Guard forces. They had been mostly obliterated, their power armored corpses strewn alongside the Ceyzane Militia and other soldiers of its planetary defense force. There was a single body of a slain Custodian here and there, but none had been alive.

And then I saw an infantry platoon clad in the blue colors of the Ceyzane PDF uniform and a single Knight walker being assailed. A Questoris-class, Crusader pattern. The pilot noble was firing his thermal cannon into a squad of gold-armored Custodians, most of whom managed to deftly leaped away. One of them was caught in the blast, however, and melted to slag.

The rest nimbly flanked the stumbling Knight and hacked at it, severing cables and damaging servos.

"What's going on? Is that a Chaos Knight?" Sergeant Acastus sounded puzzled.

"No. I recognize those colors." Makhat studied the black and gold armor of the Imperial Knight. It sported familiar heraldry, a yellow circle that depicted the sun. I could have sworn there was a smiley face on the sun. Seemed like there was still a sense of humor in this grimdark universe of ours. "That's a Knight of House Yato. They are supposed to be Loyalist."

"Then why is the Custodian Guard attacking him?" Chronos asked, his voice filled with derision. "He must be a traitor. There is no other explanation."

"Like how you guys have been judged heretics?" I asked, somewhat snidely. Chronos fell silent, but I could feel his glare on my back.

"Let's move on," Makhat said, ignoring our banter. I raised an armored gauntlet.

"No, wait. Perhaps we should help..."

The words were barely out of my mouth before a psychic shockwave emanated from the Knight's massive suit. A few of the Custodian Guard were hurled away by the immense force, slamming into the ground with bone-crunching impact. True to their reputation, they were immediately up, their armor slightly dented and their bodies intact despite being hit with enough power to crumple a tank.

Those who hadn't been flung aside by the telekinetic blast continued to stab and thrust their guardian spears at the Knight Crusader. The noble kicked out, forcing them to scatter, and the he stomped on one who was too slow to get away. Despite his reinforced physiology and exalted armor, there was nothing that could save the Custodian from being crushed to a mess of bloody pulp and flattened armor by several dozen tons of adamantium and ceramite.

"Witch," Chronos hissed.

"Psyker," I correected softly. "Just like your Librarians"

The Chaplain glared at me. "Our Librarians are different...!"

"How so?" I countered. Before Chronos could reply, Makhat held up a hand.

"Now is not the time to debate the differences between psychic mastery and heretic witchery. Brother, if you wish to help, it has to be now."

I saw what he meant. A squad of Silent Sisters were approaching the Knight, and while outwardly the super-heavy waler remained unmoved, I could detect subtle movements of instability. A flare of panic...of cold dread as the pilot found his mind dulled by the null-maidens' insufferable aura.

Their very presence was anathema to psykers.

"Save him. And the Guardsmen, if possible."

The Sapphire Drakes looked at me incredulously. At least I imagined them to be incredulous, under those glowing eyelenses and metallic helms. I shrugged, or tried to.

"It's our duty to save the citizens of the Imperium from tyranny, is it not?"

The Knight pilot, despite suffering from indescribable pain and terror, managed to heft the Avenger gatling cannon that made up his left hand and let loose a volley of depleted uranium rounds that pulverized three of the Sisters, their power armored bodies vanishing in blood and shrapnel. The surviving two ducked and sought cover, their null fields still active despite their reduced numbers. While the Knight continued to shake imperceptibly, the Custodes recognized the weakness and charged.

"Now!" I snapped. At my thought, my Rubricae opened fire, ensorcelled shells streaking forward in empyric fire and smacking into the Custodes' golden armor. One of them shuddered, his armor torn open by warp-filled ammunition and fell. The rest responded superlatively, rolling into cover and countering with volleys from their guardian spears.

Even though I was at the recieving end of their fire, I couldn't help but admire the godlike prowess of the Adeptus Custodes. Their precise shots hammered home into ranks of Rubricae - Marines who were Veterans of an age long past, transhuman soldiers whose resilience had been enhanced by Ahriman's Rubric - though inadvertently - and took them down. In a galaxy filled with nightmarish horrors, there existed no warrior more skillful, no soldier more dangerous than the Custodes.

They were reacting pretty rapidly to our sudden assault too. The surviving Sisters, realizing that they were attacked by a Sorcerer of the Thousand Sons, sprinted from cover to cover, accompanied by a single Custodian Guard. He ran in front of them, shielding them from shells fired from the boltguns of both Rubric Marines and Renegade Sapphire Drakes. Mass reactive shells exploded harmlessly against his golden armor while he twirled his guardian spear and cut down the ensorcelled armor-piecing shells fired from inferno boltguns. To be fair, the majority of my force was trading fire with the seven remaining Custodes, and couldn't bring the entirety of their firepower to bear upon the approaching trio. Even so, the solitary Custodian charging at us cut through a storm of shells as if they were nothing more than flower petals.

"Monster...!" Egnis cursed. He raised his hand, as if to conjure a bolt of lightning, but the warp energies gathering at his fingers sparked and blew out. He stared at his gauntlet dumbly. "How...?"

"The Sisters of Silence, you dolt!" I snapped at him. "They are Pariahs! They nullify warp-based abilities!"

"Oh...whoops."

The two Sisters and the Custodian was almost upon us now. However, before they could reach within ten paces of us, the rubble beneath their feet cracked and shifted.

A squad of automatons burst to life from under the ground, their warpflamers spewing enchanted promethium at the charging trio. The risen Rubricae bathed the three in flames before they could react, and even though the Silent Sisters' null-auras cancelled out the sorceries that enhanced the devastating effects of the flamers, their power armor was still not proof against the torrent of fire. Their exposed flesh blackened and their power armor melted into slag. To their credit, they upheld their vow of silence to the very end, not even screaming despite the sheer agony they must be suffering. Although, it was possible that their vocal chords had been removed or they cut off their tongues. Given the fanatism and extremism that the Imperium often descended to, I wouldn't be surprised if their order carried out such macabre practices.

The Custodian Guard survived for half a minute longer. He barreled into the attacking Rubricae, bowling two of them over even as they continued to spray him with mutagenic flames. Unlike the silent Sisters, he roared, a majestic bellow of rage and vengeance, and cleaved through them. One of the Rubric Marines fell, cut cleanly in half at the midriff. The other was immolated in flames, the Custodian Guard's guardian spear having ruptured the promethium tank attached to his warpflamer, and the explosion engulfed both him and his killer.

The remaining Custodes retreated, under fire not only from my Rubricae and Sapphire Drake allies, but also the combined las-fire from surviving Ceyzane Guardsmen and shots from the swaying Knight. Even their aegis armor wouldn't withstand punishing blows from the Knight Crusader's Avenger gatling cannon for long, and another Custodian disintegrated when caught in the blast of the thermal cannon mounted upon its right arm.

Then the Adeptus Custodes were gone. For a few moments, silence reigned. The Militia stared at the approaching line of blue and gold Marines, while the Knight swiveled around to face us. Its weapons were raised, the barrels - still glowing from heat - pointed in our direction.

I clamped my force stave to my back and raised both of my hands to signify that I did not mean to fight.

"Who are you?" The noble pilot demanded, his voice tense over the vox. "I do not recognize your Chapter."

"If you want me to introduce myself, it is only polite to offer your name first."

There was a pause, and then the noble pilot sighed audibly.

"Fair enough. I am Satoru Honouji of House Yato. A Knight pilot of the Imperium."

As we expected, this was no Chaos Knight nor traitor Guardsmen. The Talons of the Emperor had targeted them for termination for some reason. I had an inkling why, though. From the psychic powers that this Satoru Honouji had manifested earlier, they must have deemed him as a threat.

The Imperium did not take too kindly to unsanctioned psykers. And as far as I knew, I had never heard of an Imperal Knight pilot who was a psyker. The only Knight psykers I had heard of were those who had pledged their allegiance to Tzeentch, imbuing their Throne Mechanicum with foul sorceries. The Talons of the Emperor must not have condoned his existence.

However, that did not explain the presence of the renegade militia who were fighting alongside him. Why were they targeted as well? Were they unfortunate enough to get caught in the crossfire? No, that made no sense. The Adeptus Custodes might be cold and tyranical, but they weren't stupid. They would have simply ordered the milita to fre upon the Imperial Knight rather than massacre them alongside him.

"So...who are you?" Satoru Honouji demanded. I realized that I had been too caught up in my thoughts. I apologetically removed my helm and smiled disarmingly.

"I am Ignatius of the Thousand Sons. And I have an offer for you."