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The thunderhawk drop ship kicked up clouds of dust as it landed, brother Arcturus led the investigation team, a Liberian as marked by his crossed bone white stripes on his dark green pauldron, he was accompanied by brother-apothecary Severus, Brother-Chaplin Corrin, and Brother-At-Arms Solaris, a sergeant as his singular bone white stripe marked him. The group stepped slowly onto the dead world, Arcturus stood with his eyes half lidded, feeling the warp within the shadows, a soft shape moving in their peripheral sight, he flinched at the suddenness of the sensation he felt, a hoarse whisper, as though a voice that had shouted for days now tried to muster the strength to call out once more. “The ancient awaits…”, brother Severus replied “repeat brother?” Arcturus had not intended to repeat it aloud, and had not realized he had, “there is a presence here, a message.” He was silent for the rest of the march.
As they walked silent through the dust storms of the dead world a thought prodded at brother Solaris, he should know this planet, it had been a century now since he had studied imperial history as a squire, but he recalled something, an important battle, or a slaughter? Certainly the world had been bombarded that much was clear.
His thoughts were silenced by the clink of his ceramite boot against ceramite.
Dreadnaught plate as he examined it, in faded white and green, contemptor pattern.
This was a relic of the heresy, this was of the death guard.
The planet was Istvaan3.
The psychic trail had led them to a bunker, or what remained of one, the ceiling was mostly collapsed, and at the center was a small crater, recent too as the air still stunk of singed flesh, the armor of three thousand sons stood on the ground, their bodies decayed beyond years, “a virus bomb then” observed brother Severus, Arcturus gave him a swift nod, moving to the center of the crater, where a husk of a Body lay, next the wreck of another dreadnaught, shattered but bearing the color of the third legion. “Brother-Apothecary, this is the source, check the body, if he breathes do your best to save him.”
The rush back to the Thunderhawk was a blur of dust and panic, the body lived, but wouldn’t for long, thankfully they had prepared to potentially preserve the dying, and had suitable equipment on the dropship, however the real work was done aboard the cruiser in orbit, the Spear of Shadows.
The makeshift dreadnaught was a marvel, redemptor pattern weapons welded to a daredo chassis, with the coffin of a contemptor front and center, bearing that remnant of the past into new life, currently bare ceramite, so as to be reused if it did not succeed. Brother Arcturus tentatively reached for the mind of the dreadnaught, it was conscious, angry, and its rage was pointed towards one being, the word a blazing spear into the librarian’s mind
“FULGRIM.”
“What is thy name, ancient one?”
“WHERE AM I.”
“You are aboard the light cruiser Spear of Shadows strike vessel of the Emperor’s Shadows XIIIth company, I am Brother-Librarian Arcturus, I ask again, what is your name?”
“I WAS ONCE CALLED ANCIENT RYLANOR, HE WHO REMEMBERS, VENERABLE OF THE PALATINE HOST, ANCIENT OF RITES TO THE EMPEROR’S CHILDREN, I AM A PROUD SERVANT OF THE EMPEROR OF MANKIND”
“Then we have that in common Ancient Rylanor”
“WHAT IS THIS SHIP’S HEADING?”
“I believe we are return to the track of pursuing a warband of Emperor’s Children heretics”
“WE MAY HAVE MORE IN COMMON THEN, BROTHER.”