Luther first of the fall.., p.18
Luther: First of the Fallen, page 18
No. It was my weakness that carried me here, and in owning that I am free of the corruption.
Are there times we can step off the path? Yes. Yes there are. Opportunities to see past the illusion of external truth and witness ourselves. We are truth, we decide what is real and what is a lie. A few manage to seize that moment, and probably never realise how close they came to damnation. A clarity of thought, a neuron firing that creates a moment of humility. Even the unseen decision to take a step left rather than right, into the course of bolt or bullet.
I think I am the only one that has travelled the road almost to its end, to have savoured its power and yet rejected it. And I think I only managed that because I had practised, unknowingly. When the final decision came to me, I could see it clear, for events had seen fit to give me rehearsal.
It was at Zaramund. Of course it was.
Having taken possession of a sizeable transport fleet, my confinement on Caliban was brought to an end. That decision itself was no easy one, for though I had been working for Caliban’s independence, the acquisition of ships and breaking of my banishment was a direct act against the will of the Lion. There were no speeches that could make it seem otherwise. All that took part in the endeavour knew we were now rebels, opposed to the rule of the Lion.
We had but one warship, and that was a matter that needed swift addressing, for a transport is only of use if it reaches its target. Thirty thousand knights of the Order, Space Marines one and all, was an army worthy of any commander, but they were worthless if they were blown up in the void.
Terrible storms had swept through the galaxy, heralding the Warmaster’s own steps on a path of damnation parallel to mine. Our Navigators could see the beacons at Zaramund well enough though, and the taking of a shipyard seemed like the perfect first test for our fledgling force. As it was an important juncture to and from Terra, possession of Zaramund would be a bargaining point in its own right, and it would see us able to spread our influence far.
It transpired that Zaramund was no military test. It was beset by factions like many other systems in the galaxy: some for Horus, others loyal to the Emperor. The arrival of a sizeable force of Dark Angels, for we travelled in the cloak of the First Legion, soon quelled all dissent.
In the absence of leadership there will always be a vacuum, just as in the absence of willpower there will always be temptation. In both cases, the subtle voices of Chaos are magnified.
Not too long after taking administrative control of the system and repurposing several frigates, two cruisers and a battle-barge to our needs, my Mystai warned me of a disturbance in the warp.
‘It is not just a ship, Grand Master, or a fleet,’ Lord Cypher informed me on the bridge of my new flagship. ‘This flotilla breaks the storm like a hammer on stone, with brute force.’
We readied the fleet to greet these newcomers and within days the sizeable flotilla broke warp over a matter of hours. The close arrival and coherent disposition of the ships gave me suspicion, for even in clement warp conditions it is all but impossible for one ship to stay in contact with another. Amidst the tumult that befouled the Zaramund approaches I thought it miraculous.
I again consulted with the psykers of the Mystai. Bear in mind that I had not spoken of the powers of the warp with them, though I think that the gift they possessed must at some point have told them of my burgeoning connection to the Realm of Chaos.
‘Most unusual,’ the Lord Cypher agreed. ‘The fleet must contain a very powerful psyker, several it is likely, to exert any control over the storms. And they probably are not allies of the Emperor.’
This followed my own line of thought and we waited for the reports from the system monitor ships. Six vessels in all translated into Zaramund, all of them showing heavy signs of battle damage.
‘They are here for the shipyard,’ I decided, when I gathered my council to me, such as it was – Griffayn and Astelan had accompanied the fleet in preparation for the battle that never occurred. ‘We cannot let them have it.’
‘They are Legion vessels, cruiser class and above,’ Griffayn informed me. ‘A close match to our own fleet.’
‘But they are war-torn, their threat is far less than their manifest would boast,’ Astelan countered. ‘A swift counter-attack would probably break them within hours.’
‘Not without losses,’ I replied. ‘I know that we came to Zaramund ready for war, but let us not start one if we do not need to. We cannot know if other ships are on their way.’
‘It seems that more are coming,’ said Lord Cypher. ‘Certainly the warp is awash with more activity than can be justified by the arrival of just six ships. That number again and more may still be en route.’
‘That settles my mind,’ I announced. ‘Make all preparations to attack if needed, but do not provoke them. Let us first find out who has visited our new territories.’
Surveyor data later revealed the force to belong to the XIV Legion, Mortarion’s Death Guard. Griffayn and the others had brought news that the Death Guard were among those numbered as Horus’ allies, and one of the staunchest. I had no desire to be a lackey of Mortarion or Horus any more than the Lion and the Emperor, and here was my force in its freshly painted livery of the First Legion. It seemed battle was inevitable until the identifiers for the lead ship were checked with our knowledge banks.
It was the Terminus Est, flagship of Captain Calas Typhon, returned to Zaramund and my company as though by the warp gods themselves. And perhaps he was.
After establishing that it was indeed still Calas in command, I invited him to bring his ships to the dockyards and to come aboard the Faithful Servant – I cannot overstate the irony of the former Imperial Fists battle-barge’s name.
I greeted him and his second, Vioss, at the landing bay. They wore Tactical Dreadnought armour – warsuits that dwarfed even the plate of the regular legionaries. The years had not been kind, for both showed the signs of war and hurried maintenance upon their gear, and their skin was sallow and lifeless, almost like that of a corpse.
‘You must ready your fleet, Luther, an enemy is at our backs,’ Calas said before even a word of greeting. ‘He has pursued us relentlessly across a score of star systems.’
‘Who is this pursuer?’ I asked.
‘Corswain,’ replied Vioss. His voice was a slurred hiss, the right side of his jaw home to a pus-filled wound. ‘We thought we had him at Argeus, but he turned from quarry to hunter.’
Griffayn and the others had told me that Corswain had been made seneschal to the Lion after the Legion’s battles with the Night Lords across Thramas, and had tangled several times with my guest and his ships.
‘He is following you here?’ I asked quickly, remembering the other ships in the warp. ‘This is all of your fleet?’
‘Days away, at most,’ said Calas. ‘We must make our repairs urgently and be ready to confront him.’
‘I’m not sure,’ said Vioss. ‘Even with the Zaramund ships, we may not have enough to fight.’
‘Do not presume assets that are not yours, captain,’ I said quietly.
Vioss frowned at me, a most ugly expression that flaked skin from his face. He clearly was not well, which made me uneasy. Any contagion that could affect a Space Marine would be very unwelcome in my fleet.
‘Are you denying us, Luther?’ the Death Guard said heavily. His breath stank and I stepped away, trying not to be intimidated.
‘I deny nothing, and accept nothing,’ I told him flatly. ‘Unless you wish to face Corswain and my ships, keep your tone civil, captain.’
I turned to Calas and smiled.
‘We have a little time to strategise,’ I said to him, waving a hand towards the flight bay door. ‘My quarters are a better venue for such discussions, and I have others that should participate. Perhaps I can return the gift of liquid consolation for your current vexatious situation?’
Vioss shifted in agitation but Calas nodded his agreement, realising the tentative offer in my words.
So I summoned Astelan, Griffayn and the Lord Cypher to my quarters and met them there with the two Death Guard. Griffayn and the new Lord Cypher required introduction, which I made briefly, and then Calas apprised us of the situation as concisely as he could.
‘I need a port,’ he said plainly. ‘Horus’ forces are gathering for the final strike towards Terra and a long-delayed rendezvous with my genefather is imminent. Yet I cannot free myself from this stubborn Dark Angel on my shoulder.’
‘Why not reunite with the rest of your Legion fleet?’ asked Griffayn. ‘You’d have more than enough ships.’
‘They are participating in affairs that I would prefer to avoid,’ said Calas. His enigmatic reply was not enough for Astelan, though.
‘What sort of affairs? If you want our help, you need to be open about everything,’ said my First Master.
Calas turned his gaze on me, expectantly.
‘If you could leave me a moment to speak with Captain Typhon alone,’ I said, looking at our companions. ‘Vioss, please apprise Astelan of your immediate requirements and we shall see what can be arranged.’
The Death Guard looked to his superior and received a nod of consent. Astelan seemed like he might argue but withdrew with the others, leaving me alone with Calas.
‘There are bonds you dare not break, Luther,’ he said sharply. ‘Promises exchanged, of duty and brotherhood.’
‘And yet where have you and Erebus been these last decades?’ I replied harshly, unwilling to be upbraided in my own chamber. ‘What have you given Caliban except silence?’
‘Did you ever call upon us? Did you use the herald that we sent?’ he asked.
I remembered that first encounter with the nephilla, the thought that it had been waiting for me.
‘I see you realise your error,’ said Calas. ‘We were ever ready for your word. It seems you have done well without us, all the same.’
‘A ship!’ I cried, a trifle more dramatically than I had intended. The utterance of it made plain my own short-sightedness, expunging my frustration. ‘Just one ship was all I needed, if I had but asked…’
‘You may not have called on us, but now I call upon you, Luther,’ Calas said evenly. ‘My foe is your foe, and in recognition of our mutuality I need you to fight beside me.’
The rest went unspoken, the consequences should I break our bond.
‘Let me speak to my council and work out what can be done,’ I said to him, extending a conciliatory hand.
He did not shake it, but stood, towering over me in his immense battleplate.
‘I await your communication,’ he said before heading towards the door.
I despatched Griffayn to escort them back to their ship, while taking counsel from Lord Cypher and Astelan. It was no surprise to find them at cross purposes.
‘You must make alliance with the Death Guard,’ the Lord Cypher insisted. ‘If Corswain finds us here, retribution will surely follow. Our presence is in direct defiance of the Lion’s edict.’
‘I think Corswain has far more pressing matters, Sar Luther,’ said Astelan, helping himself to the wine I had poured for Calas and Vioss, which sat on the table untouched. ‘The Death Guard give us good reason to hold Zaramund, which we of course have seized to ensure it remains as a transit point for the Emperor’s forces.’
Neither knew of my deeper links to Calas, and the pact we had made with the powers as our witnesses. And both spoke as they believed. To court Corswain risked becoming dragged back into the Legion, all hope of Caliban’s independence dashed to pieces. But to fire upon Dark Angels ships was a declaration of our deceit and intent that would reverberate across the galaxy. The Lion would hear in time and he would respond.
‘It seems we have been placed as a fulcrum of this war more swiftly than I imagined,’ I told them. ‘As it always is, to make ally with one side is to make enemy with the other.’
‘We have broken from the Lion, the Dark Angels are already our enemies,’ the Lord Cypher said.
‘The Lion is our foe,’ countered Astelan. ‘Not the entire Legion. He has been split from Corswain for years. He might not even live, for all that we know, or is trapped in the east with Guilliman for bad company. If we befriend Corswain, we increase our power. On the other hand, Captain Typhon did not mention the Legion fleet by accident, but as a reminder of coming power. I do not think chance brought him to Zaramund, but a rendezvous. Mortarion and his fleet will be here, sooner or later. Your past is with Typhon, not Mortarion. I do not think the primarch will be so keen to negotiate with Dark Angels.’
‘Your argument works both ways,’ I replied, exasperated by the pair of them, but myself even more. ‘Corswain’s head would make a valuable bargaining chip with Mortarion. We need the goodwill of Calas to support us if we do run afoul of the Death Guard primarch.’
I held up my hand to silence them as both made to continue, wishing time to think a little longer. And it was time well spent, for a few minutes later it seemed the obvious answer came to me.
‘I refuse this dichotomy,’ I said to them. ‘Caliban is powerful on its own or not at all. This civil war is nothing to us – we cannot afford to alienate either side, nor court them.’
‘But what of the two fleets?’ said Astelan. ‘Practicality must trump principle. The Death Guard are here and Corswain is coming. Whichever prevails between them will come for us next, and it is likely to be Corswain by the account of Vioss and Typhon.’
‘There will be no battle,’ I said, taking the wine glass from him. I emptied it with a single mouthful. ‘There is another way to settle this. Lord Cypher, how long until Corswain’s fleet arrives?’
He did not reply immediately, and the slight drop in the chamber’s temperature suggested that he communed with the other Mystai by strange means.
‘Such matters are not precise, but even with fair currents it will be at least twelve hours before their first ships break warp,’ he told me. ‘If Typhon and his ships turn back now, they would not reach the Mandeville point for another thirteen hours after that.’
‘Corswain cannot hope that his fleet will arrive in any coherent formation,’ added Astelan. His experience in void warfare far outmatched mine, so I was happy to hear his opinion. ‘A commander’s greatest fear is running into a prepared enemy guarding the translation point. Every time he jumps after Typhon he risks ambush, so he must be pretty confident of overwhelming force once his entire fleet arrives, able to handle a few early losses while the others gather.’
‘But if we add our–’ began Lord Cypher, but I had already made my intent clear and cut him off.
‘There will be no battle at Zaramund,’ I told them again, more insistently. ‘I will contact Calas directly while you make the arrangements I am about to tell you. We have twelve hours to hide the Death Guard fleet.’
The captain of the XIV took some convincing. He was trusting me with quite a feat, so I cannot lay any blame for his persistent questioning. Eventually, I was able to persuade him that my course of action was the only one with any good surety of success. Any attempt to engage the Dark Angels risked calamity for us both, while Corswain’s imminent arrival made any attempt to get the Death Guard out of the Zaramund System unachievable within the likely timeframe. I made it clear that I was already guilty of a terrible collusion by not attacking as soon as Calas’ fleet arrived, which gave him some assurance that whatever happened our fates were entwined and I worked to our mutual best interest.
My plan was straightforward enough in theory. The Death Guard would power down their systems to minimum and drift in the void, virtually invisible. My story to Corswain would be that Calas arrived, we skirmished briefly, before he escaped back into the warp. To seal the deception, we would destroy one of his smallest ships, creating some debris and energy residue that spoke of an exchange of fire.
It was a lot to achieve in twelve hours, because distances across space are vast and vessels the size of the Terminus Est do not suddenly kill their power output in minutes. In the end, nineteen hours passed before the first ship of Corswain’s fleet translated in-system, and it was another seven after that until Corswain’s flagship broke warp. We had hailed the first arrivals to assure them of the friendship of the system but they were understandably distrustful of voxmitted signals, even though we still had the Legion codes. I needed to speak to Corswain directly and was able to do so shortly after his ship dropped in-system.
I am sure you can imagine his shock at seeing my face appear on the vid-link, his surprise even greater than Calas’.
‘Luther!’ he declared, eyes widening.
I admit to certain callous devilry at that moment, having the advantage of greater preparedness.
‘Seneschal Corswain, I may have been compelled to Caliban but I do not recall being stripped of my title,’ I snapped back, and in one simple move had gained the momentum of the conversation.
‘Apologies, Sar Luther,’ Corswain replied, now further disconcerted by his failure of decorum. ‘My surprise has ambushed my manners.’
I tried to remember what I could of Corswain, and what Belath, Griffayn and others had told me of the legionary who had become de facto leader of the Legion in the Lion’s absence. Obedient, diligent and utterly dedicated to the Lion’s last command to him: to engage the enemy wherever possible. It was important to maintain the initiative in our discussion so that more awkward questions did not arise.
‘I am very glad to see you, so soon after our episode with the Death Guard,’ I said to him. Best to put the subject front and centre than give the approach of any dissembling. Surely if I was so keen to bring up the subject I had nothing to hide?
‘You confirm that the Death Guard were here?’ Corswain asked.
