New Blood

[BruvaTrav]

                        The light from the star burned with an aching brightness across the skies of Tortosa. The luminescence of the thing was the harsh bleak light of a star still in its youth, and upon the incandescent sands of this world it caught the light and reflected it in an array of color. The emerald dunes burned with a jealous fire, while streaks of indigo ran through at the ridges to form the breakers. When the wind blew the shifting sands from the dune rises, it created the effect of ocean spray, diamonds caught in the breeze.
      Death and beauty at play with one another, for to be out upon that fiery surf without the aid of strong protective gear, would be suicide for a human being.  The air was laden with poison as the planet had been the site of a long ago battle between alien dynasties, that had forever polluted it in their determination to see each other destroyed. Amidst these shimmering sands a keep rose to tower above all that was in view. A shining ivory spike, so pure that the light it reflected made it painful to look upon, knifed into the heavens. Battlements surrounded the tower, an impressive array of defenses that looked out upon the emerald sands forever, ready to annihilate those who would come against it.
      Massive lance batteries pointed skyward, while macro-cannon’s that would be at home upon battleships that plied the star ways faced outward in challenge. It was upon these battlements that a lone figure jogged through the heat haze his form obscured so that he seemed little more than a mirage from only a few yards away. The figure ran along the walls of a great fortress. The man was stripped to the waist wearing only a pair of loose fatigues that snapped in time with his bare feet upon the scorching battlements.
       An ordinary man would have suffered horrendous burns to the soles of his feet by now, but this was no ordinary man. This was an Astartes, a man lifted up and remade in the image of his Primarch. The heat from the walls caused only minor irritation and the speed at which the warrior ran ensured that his flesh never stayed long enough on the ground to burn him thoroughly. This was an old exercise for him, one he had completed many times as an initiate when he had yet to earn the right to wear power armor.
     As the figure rounded the ramparts he quickly passed within the shadow of the barbican, there waiting for him in the shade, stood a much smaller figure thoroughly obscured within an environment suit hid under voluminous dirty robes. It was demonstratively cooler within the shadows of the fortress' gates and the Astartes was inwardly grateful for the respite.

           “They await you in the forges Sergeant,” said the smaller figure without preamble. The pale blue orbs of light that emitted from the hood of the sand stained robes never left the Astartes’ form.  

            “Inform them I will be with them shortly,” was the Astartes’ terse reply.

             “There is also the matter of the tower..” the smaller figure continued letting the phrase trail off. The augmetic vox within the suits rebreather punctuated the end of each statement with an audible click.

             “I will deal with that later, we have a duty to save those who can be saved Mistress Sabine,” said the Astartes and he lifted his gaze to look forlornly upon the towers highest peak.

              “Very well I shall inform the Chaplaincy of your decision Sergeant Talial.”

              “It is not my decision,” bit back Talial and his gaze lowered again to the woman. “I would not choose such a course for my brothers, duty demands it.”

               “I apologize Lord.”

                “Never mind Sabine, my humors are out of effect, my choler rises at the indignity of our situation.”
                “Do as you will Mistress, my brothers will need me now that the time is right.”

     With that, Talial turned for a sealed bulkhead built into the fortifications façade. It did not take him long to make his way through the Fortress Monastery to his Spartan quarters. There he removed his soiled fatigues, performed his necessary ablutions, and replaced them and the rest of his duty uniform and left to make his way for the forges deep within the towers foundations.
     After a labyrinthine descent Talial found himself making his way to the massive gates of the forges. They were obsidian and silver and upon their surface was depicted the “Treaty of Micah.” The Chapter’s first Master of the Forge, who had brokered the pacts with the nearby Forgeworld of Greyhelm, Micah stood upon sands of diamond’s, hand-in-hand with a robed adept of the Mechanicus whose cloak of rubies blew about it. Behind these doors were the secrets of that erudite brotherhood of the machine, and the Techmarines guarded them with a jealous love.
      As Talial neared the doors a servo skull emitted from a crevice intricately woven into the edifice of the door. It floated on suspensor fields, coming to a halt a few spans from Talial’s position to hover above him. Its’ augmetic eye beamed a sensor scan of Talial’s eyes and sounded a mechanic chime upon completion.  
      The doors released a pressurized hiss and steam vented across the forms of the door’s artistic inhabitants. The gates began to slowly grind open, exposing their meters thick construction of adamantium and plasteel. Talial crossed the threshold boldly, his stride quickly taking him down a subterranean hall. The floor was a smooth unpolished rockcrete that seemed to have no blemish while the walls were lined with massive pipes that ran with warnings in low gothic.
       Talial took a series of dizzying turns down smaller hallways and recessed stairs until he was outside the appropriate laboratory. With an anticipatory breath, he stepped within and was greeted by a sight he knew he would face but dreaded none the less.
        The room stank of old blood and machine oil. A golden sarcophagus stood upright within the center of the room upon a raised dais surrounded by robed serfs and a Techmarine overseeing them. They were at present preoccupied with removing the many large power cables that extruded from the sides of the casket. Each one was gently removed by a wary adept who recited the appropriate litanies of awakening and activation. The Techmarine present rotated his gaze from the robed adepts under his charge to Talial and he nodded in greeting.
    The Space Marine, wore the dark red of the chapter but upon his shoulder the Machine Cog of the Mechanicus could be seen glimmering in the near dark of the chamber. His helm was removed and his face was surprisingly human, thought Talial to himself. Free of the extensive augmetic so common among his brotherhood, the Battle Brother wore a neutral expression as he watched Talial enter.

         “Sergeant Talial, I am Brother Vane we were finishing the rites of awakening,” the Techmarine paused. “It is good you are here, the face of familiar brother, it helps sometimes in calming the ancients nerves.”

         “Ancient…” said Talial sampling the word. “He was my superior, he lead me through my initiation and induction into Second Squad. He was a hundred-and-sixty-seven years my senior but in terms of Astartes, he was no Ancient…”

          “It is his honorific now, no longer a leader of men, he is blood and death within a shell of steel. Emperor willing, he will live on through the millennia and his wisdom will guide those who would walk in his stead.”

     Answered the Techmarine, but Talial had barely registered his words.

          “Wake him…” said Talial without breaking his gaze from the sarcophagus.

          “Very well, we are ready.” replied the Techmarine.
 
      The Techmarine emitted a blurt of binary and the robed adepts finished what they were doing and scuttled to the eaves of the room. Walking to an instrument panel opposite the dais the Techmarine began tapping out a series of instructions upon the keyboards there. The panel signaled readiness and the Techmarine leaned past the panel to reach a lever built into the dais.
       “Omnissiah bless and honor our works in your name so that this mighty warrior might tread the worlds of mankind in defense of her realms once more.”
    
    The Techmarine began, and Talial lowered his head out of respect not wishing to anger the machine spirits of the laboratory.

        “Envelope him in steel so that he might be your shield, arm him with fire and iron so that he might crush your enemies. Let his tread be the doom of alien, heretic and traitor. We ask this in your name, Ave Imperator Ave Omnissiah.”

     With that the Techmarine threw the lever, and a building pressure that Talial hadn’t even noticed began to release. A thrumming below his boots traveled up his legs and the air stank of ozone as the dais began to spark and electrical fingers began to run up and down the length of its base. The sarcophagus remained immobile while the room shook, its face plate was worked into a death mask of the hero who once bore those features. Talial supposed it was the Techmarines honoring the man but looking upon the cold metallic face of his former friend, he could not be sure it was the honor the Techmarines thought it was.   
      Finally, the overpressure ceased, the sparks died and the room once again became quiet. Activation runes played across the surface of the casket, blinking into existence and dancing across the features of the golden casket. With a trill of activation the sensor pods atop the sarcophagus filled with ruby light. For a moment, the pods were still then they began to spin and shift erratically. Talial looked to Vane for guidance, but the Techmarines face took on an ashen aspect. From the vox emitters of the sarcophagus, a machinelike scream shattered the silence of the laboratory. The scream built in volume until the intensity was so great that glass began to shatter and the robed adepts cowered in the shadows.

     “Brother Vane?”

    Talial shouted to the Techmarine, and the sensor pods of the casket swiveled to observe him.

       “Brother Talial!” Bellowed the casket’s vox emitters.
       “Is that you? Is this some trickery of the curse? Or has the Emperor called us home Brother? Do we yet stand with Him?”

        “It is I, Brother,” replied Talial his eyes locked upon the sensor pods.
         “And we stand within the walls of our home, we are on Tortosa brother.”

        “I cannot feel anything Brother, I see you before me but I cannot feel my legs am I still within the Apothecarion?”

         “You are below the sands, down in the Forges of the Abbey Brother,” was all the response Talial gave.

         “I see,” was the only reply made by the casket’s vox emitters.

         “I’m sorry, Sergeant, only in death does duty end…as you well have told me,” said Talial looking down. Ashamed that it had to come to this.

           “If I am not mistaken, I am no longer a Sergeant then,” came the mechanical voice.

          “No Brother, you are not, your command has fallen to me” said Talial his face raising again, not to look upon the sarcophagus but upon a banner of the chapter that hung upon the wall.

           “I would have it no other way,” was the reply of the casket.

           “You would not have another? Not even a more senior Battle Brother from another Squad?”

            “Never, I have not trained those Brothers Talial, I have not invested these years lightly, I have made my choices and I stand by them, your succession was guaranteed after Oberon…” the casket paused then continued. “And with Oberon’s fall Erziab could not be relied upon…”

            Talial’s gaze didn’t waver from the banner but his jaw clenched at the mention of his brothers names.
 
             “So command falls to me for lack of a better option…” was Talial’s reply.

             “Command has not fallen on you boy, it has chosen you, the Emperor, blessed be He, is omnipotent Brother, he has seen your works and has judged you worthy of command. If he wanted another to lead Second Squad then they would be leading it.”
 
             “There is much to be done yet with the Ancient,” interrupted Vane for the first time. “He must learn many new things about his new life.”

        Talial’s gaze returned to the casket’s sensor pods.

             “I am sorry Broth-… Ancient, I am pleased to continue serving with you, I only wish…”

            “Wishes are for the foolish boy,” replied the casket.

            “Too true Ancient, I will return later - duty, I am afraid calls the two of us today.”

            “As it does everyday brother,” replied the sarcophagus.

    Talial nodded his farewell to Vane and turned to leave as the casket called to him one last time.

             “Ancient Asban, I never thought I would live to see the day”

     Talial smirked to himself as he left the laboratory, the gear changing rumble that followed him the laughter of a man reborn more a machine.
 
       
            Talial made his way back through the maze of corridors and stairwells, until he was once again at surface level, here he diverged from the processional hallway. The stairs of the grand hall would be of no use to him where he was now headed. Passing the stairs he instead proceeded down a darkened hallway that was lit solely by electro candle, the false flames guttered casting a faint flickering light.
      The candles were a signal to those who walked these halls, they lead to the chapel and it was there that Talial’s rise to the towers truest heights would take place. Crossing the threshold of the chapel doors that were always open, another symbol for the Battle Brothers, Talial made his way to the rear of the sanctum.
       Again awaiting him near the altar kneeled a figure in ebony power armor. The figure turned from the devotional candles, real by the smell of them, to regard Talial’s approach. This one was helmed and the skull upon the face of the Chaplain’s mask regarded Talial with disdain as it held everything within its sight.
 
            “Brother Talial, you have kept us waiting”

    Spoke the Chaplain as he stood turning to face Talial and as he did so he motioned with his arm outstretched. Talial followed his gaze and saw Sanguinary Priest Imlohai step from beyond a marble pillar. His Ivory power armor a stark contrast to the Chaplain.
 
             “I have no pressing duties beyond what will be wrought here, I do not mind the wait.”
       
     Said the sanguinary priest as he strode over to the two. Talial turned his gaze back to the chaplain.

            “My apologies none the less Chaplain Ocran, Priest Imlohai, I wished to be present for the awakening of Ancient Asban.”

      The chaplain said nothing more and turned from them to ascend the altar, passing the massive podium, he instead came to a halt at the rear most wall and there punched in a series of key codes into a recessed panel.  
     The wall parted to reveal a simple but reinforced elevatar carriage, the skull face turned to regard the two who still stood before the altar and the chaplain again raised a gauntlent in a somber beckoning. Talial and Imlohai followed suit and soon they were within the carraige and Ocran had depressed the large button that denoted ascent by an upwards arrow. The elevator had only two destinations and they were leaving one.
     Talial could not help but notice the restraint holding hooks and links upon the floor and walls of the carriage and the extra heavy chains that sat looped behind the chaplains position in case they were ever needed.
      The newly promoted sergeant of second squad tried not to think about what they were intended for instead focusing his mind to the task at hand, he began to recite, within his mind, his favored pre battle litanies. He found none were appropriate, he faced not an alien, mutant, heretic or traitor. He did not have long to ponder, to which he was thankful, for the carriage came to an abrupt yet controlled stop.
      Talial only now realized how quickly the carriage had traveled the length of the tower. He saw from an armor glass view slit the shimmering protective fields of the void shields blurring the already hazy sands without.
     An ear splitting scream shattered the silence and Talial’s thoughts were quickly interrupted as his heightened senses sent his trans-human body into combat preparedness. Talial stood at the ready while responding howls of torment and bellows of rage sounded throughout the circumference of the tower.    
      
          “This way Brothers.”
 
      Was all the Chaplain said as he proceeded to lead them through the turning hall, past the cells where the screams emenated. They finally rounded upon the correct cell and Ocran lead them in, ducking through the shortened door.
     What greeted Talial made his stomach turn more than the reek of stale blood, there suspended by chains of adamantium hung his friend and former battle Brother. His arms were outstretched and each wrist wrapped within the chains, while his legs were stretched in a similar fashion. The Astartes’ chin hung to his chest and his unkempt raven hair fell about him in dirty ropes. His frame was starved but still bore the unrestrained power of a trans-humanity in his slab like muscles that spasmed periodically.
     The Astartes muttered to himself, half in the low gothic drawl of native Tortosa, half in the tech-nomad diaclect of ancient Baal, a language unfamiliar to the Astartes of Tortosa.

        “Here waits Brother Erziab the Lost, may the end of his service come swiftly for his sake.”
    
      Intoned the Chaplain as they regarded the man who had once stood upon the walls of Capracia drenched in the blood of the Ork holding his position until reinforcements from the Astra Militarum could arrive.
     A man who had participated in the desperate boarding actions that took place during the battles of Phraxes Septimus against the Necron raiders of the Deantek Dynasty. Here was this hero of the Imperium now, lost to the blood madness that is the curse of all the scions of the Primarch Sanguinius.
      
          “Angel, preserve me from such a fate.”

     Spoke Talial for the first time to himself but Erziab’s head snapped up and his fervored eyes caught Talial’s in a piercing stare.

           “Azkaellon’s prescence will be missed mightily but the Angel walks before us brother and the fool Horus has bared his neck. Now is the time we must hasten to the landers Brother!”

     Spoke Erziab with the passion of a madman, his eyes twitching here and there as if struggling to witness unseen phantoms. His gaze returned to Talial’s.

           “Why do we tarry here Brother, the Angel calls, do you not hear him!” Insisted Erziab,
            
          “Aye Brother, I do”

    Was all Talial could manage his eyes never leaving Erziab’s. Ocran stepped forward and pressed an Astartes pattern service knife into Talial’s grasp.

           “Where is the honor in this?” Talial askd indignantly of the Chaplain.
        “He will not need such a weapon Brother trust me” spoke the chaplain in Talial’s ear. “He is more than fallen, he is lost. He has succumbed to the Red Thirst wholeheartedly, were his rage all that bound him he would wait like his brothers, here in the Tower for a chance at redemption in battle, since that is not the case he must be relieved of his suffering, or do you want that nosey bastard Astorath knocking upon the chapters doors again?”
   
          Talial took the weapon he gaze turning back to his errant brother.

       “Do your best to avoid the progenoid’s lad or my time will have been wasted after all.” said the Sanguinary Priest.

     Ocran stepped forward and hit a quick release lever and Erziab’s form was unceremoniously dropped to the floor, with that Ocran and Imlohai exited the cell and took up positions at the door, each drawing their weapons. Erziab was lightening fast to recover, quickly on his feet his body held in a tense crouch while the chains still lay wrapped about his wrists.
     
       “We must away to the landers Brother, my blood boils to have our revenge for Signus Prime, Horus sent us there Brother, do not forget that, he sent us to die upon those killing fields.”

     Sputtered Erziab, his words falling from his lips in a cascade of urgency.  
    
        “I am sorry Brother, would that it were any other way.” said Talial in way of reply and took up a ready position holding the knife before him.

        “What manner of treachery is this? This is some warp spawned trickery, I will hear none of your words traitor, you may wear the mask of my Brother but you are no Angel”

        Those final words struck a cord within Talial but he had no time to ruminate on them, Erziab was upon him.
      Whipping the chains about his wrists in a weapon like fashion he nearly knocked Talial from his feet so fast was his opening attack. Talial dodged, doing his best to dance over the low swipes of the chains and duck beneath those aimed at his head or arms. Erziab’s wild eyes strained within their sockets and his attacks were fed with feverish energy that seemed to know no end.
     Talial sought for a weakness, a gap within the swings of the chains so that he might close within striking distance with the knife. With a sudden surge of movement forwards Erziab had changed the predicted paths of the chains and one snagged Talial’s forearm in a bone achingly tight grip.

       “My vengence will not be denyed me traitor!”

     Bellowed Erziab as he yanked Talial closer to deliver a punishing series of blows to Talial’s face and jaw. Talial rode the momentum of the chain and rocked with the blows, finally pulling back on the chains that ensared him to ride within Erziab’s guard and plunge the knife deep within his battle brothers midsection.
      With a roar Erziab shoved Talial away from him and contemptuously  ripped the blade from his chest, throwing it to the floor behind him.
 
        “Such tactics will avail you nothing, dog of Horus, I shall beat your miserable brains into the pavement of this palace ere I go further.”

         With that Erziab lunged for the kill while Talial was down, but Talial managed a hand spring kick to Erziab’s midsection that sent the blood raged berserker over his head and crashing into the stones of the tower wall. Whirling onto his front and quickly pushing himself to his feet Talial recovered the dagger in time as Erziab righted himself apparently no damage done to him other than the fresh blood that streamed down his face.
       With a sharp intake of breath Erziab tasted his own blood upon his lips and his body shuddered. Talial looked to his brothers eyes and watched as what was left of Erziab died in them. With a ferocious bellow that seemed to shake the walls of the cell Erziab charged Talial, the light of madness gone from Erziab’s eyes, only the darkness of rage lived in his overly dilated pupils.
       Talial waited for his moment letting Erziab come for him, at the last instant Talial dodged to the side. The manuever would have sent him sprawling to the floor had he not gripped the chain that hung from Erziab’s extended wrist. Talial, yanking back on the chain and reversing his grip on the knife, caught Erziab as he was tugged around, his balance off, and his guard left open.
        Talial with a reverse downward stroke drove the knife deep into Erziab’s exposed neck, Wasting no initiative Talial charged his stricken battle brother with a roar of his own, barging him into the wall of the cell with his forearm, while he still held the blade firmly in his brothers neck.

        Erziab died, his head nearly severed, Baalite curses blubbering from his bloodied mouth and Talial was sickened at his own bloodlust. It roared within him, awakened by the struggle and emboldened by the blood that flowed freely from Erziab’s neck.
       Talial felt a pressure upon his shoulder and he turned his gaze to see Imlohai leaning over him.
 
        ‘Now’s not the time to indulge Sergeant, I will extract what blood I can as well as his gene seed, I will prepare a Rite for this evening and we will all partake of Erziab’s sacrifice there.”
    
      Talial extricated himself from Erziab’s death embrace and turned to leave. Imlohai lowered himself and began to recite the litanies of his calling, while Ocran stood without the cell. Talial ducked through the doorway of the cell and held out the knife for the chaplain to take. The skull helm regarded Talial solemnly but took the blade none the less.
      
           
        “Prepare yourself Sergeant, the Rite of which the Priest speaks is one of initiation.”

        “What do you mean Chaplain?”

   Queried Talial his gaze regarding the Chaplains with suspicion.

        “Fifth Host has suffered much loss due to the pacification of Mordraband, As you well know Captain Uriah has not the rank to declare the world Exterminautus so he awaits the word of the Chapter Master and fights to hold the space ports open to those of the population who have proved themselves faithful. As such it would behoove us to begin the process of induction to swell our ranks.”

        “You would hold the Blood Trials?” Asked Talial of the chaplain

          “They have already been announced” was the ebon clad warrior’s grim response.
 
           “Very well, I will go and prepare myself.”

           “That is well.” Was the chaplains reply.

    Talial was grateful to leave just as Imlohai’s Narthecium began to whir and the sickly sound of diamond hard saw blades, meant to part power armor, began slicing through the flesh of his fallen brother. Following the circuitous route back to the elevator Talial keyed the ear piece vox that lay within his flesh.
   
           “Sabine, I will have need of my scout armor, see that it is prepared for use with haste, following that you are released from your duties this evening.”

            “As you wish Lord.”

      Was the woman’s reply in his ear as he punched the knob to descend his frustration coming to the fore. Talial thought of what the chaplain had told him, the Blood Trials were announced once a generation. Aspirants from across Tortosa would come foreward to be a part of the selection process, for to be elevated to the rank of Astartes was a high honor amongst the worlds population, never mind that only the hive gangers and undercity killers were the only ones ever strong enough to pass the trials.
      As Talial descended he thought back to his time before his Dark Ascension, when he was a youth from the primary hive of Tortosa. It was difficult because the creation process of an Astartes hollowed out much of what a man was, remaking him as the Emperor intended. Yet he could remember the blood and the death, he could remember stalking the dark alley’s with those he called family. The gangs did much to emulate the Astartes of Tortosa, they took names like the “Bloodied Hand” or the “Red Blades”. Talial himself belonged to the “Fallen Seraphs”, who controlled much of Hive Columbus’ undercity and the narcotics that flowed through its streets.
      The sergeant of second squad made his way back to his quarters and there as he had requested was the armor he would don tonight. It was the armor he wore through his training period here in the Abbey. Angels Tenebrous did not utilize scout squads the way other chapters did, the role of intiltrator and voyeur were of little use to such a dynamic chapter and on the rare occasion when they did need of such a unit. The task was handed out through the drawing of straws amongst the sergeants, the lot of the shortest going to the unpreferred role. Talial’s scout armor was kept for just such an occasion, although tonight was different. Tonight he would not be hiding, watching the enemy.
      Tonight he would hunt, tonight he would stalk the alley’s and the dark places of the hive. Tonight he would find replacements for his brothers, new blood for Fifth Host. New blood for the Chapter.

[deathspectersgt7]

A Good Read.