'No, it was not as a coward that I fled, it was with the growing knowledge that my message, my vision, was cru­cial,' Astelan answered emphatically. 'It was more important than me, and I would willingly lay down my life if another was to continue the quest, but I found none that could do so. The trials of that time only strengthened my resolve to succeed. It reinforced my belief that the Imperium has become infested with cor­ruption and self-servitude. They erect fanciful statues of the Emperor across the galaxy, pay homage to Him and plead for Him to answer their prayers, without any con­sideration of what the Emperor truly represents.'

'And what do you consider that to be?' Boreas was get­ting angrier and began pacing to and fro in front of the shelves of torture implements.

'Humanity, Boreas, He represents humanity,' Astelan said slowly, as if instructing a slow-witted child. 'Some­thing that you or I could never do, for it has been a long time since either of us could consider ourselves normal humans. In creating the Space Marines He took mankind back to the stars. You still accuse me of selfish ambition, but you have not been listening to what I have said. It was not for my benefit alone that I fought in the bloody campaigns of the Great Crusade. It was not purely for myself that I waged war on dozens of worlds. The truth is, we did not create the Imperium for ourselves, we cre­ated it for those who were unable to. It was not for the Adeptus Terra, the techpriests, the Ministorum, or the merchant houses, it was for all of mankind. You must surely understand that the Imperium as it is now is not humanity, it has become simply a means to sustain itself.'

'I swore to protect the realm of the Emperor and defend mankind,' insisted Boreas.

'And I swore that same oath!' Astelan reminded him vehemently.

'You broke that oath when you betrayed the Lion!' bel­lowed Boreas, storming towards Astelan.

'And I tell you that it was not we who committed the first treachery!' Astelan was getting sick of protesting his innocence. 'It was the primarchs, your thrice-accursed Lion amongst them!'

'Your heresies are without limit!' Boreas roared, smashing a fist across Astelan's face, rupturing his puffy lips and spilling thick blood onto the slab. 'I see that you have not progressed at all. You are no closer to admitting your sins than before. Your deep-rooted hatred has tainted everything inside you, and you are blind to it. If you choose not to see it for yourself, then we will open your eyes for you.'

'No! You are not listening!' Astelan warned, ignoring the pain in his mouth and the taste of his own blood. 'Please, heed my words! Do not give in to the darkness they have wrapped around you. You can still be victorious, you can triumph over those who seek to destroy you.' Astelan's hands were outstretched towards the Interrogator-Chaplain as far as the chains would allow, and Boreas slapped them away.

'You and the other traitors destroyed us the moment you chose to side with Luther the Betrayer,' Boreas snarled. 'I see that there is yet more work for Brother Samiel.'

'Keep that warlock away from me!' Astelan could not keep the desperation from his voice. He had never been afraid in his life, but the thought of the witch's return filled him with unnatural dread. 'Keep him out of my head, his corruption is still inside me, I can feel it seep­ing into my soul.'

'Then repent your sins!' Boreas's voice dropped to a subtle whisper. 'It is an easy thing to save your soul. just admit your sins, recant your heresies and it will end painlessly. You do not even have to speak, just nod your head.'

Astelan slumped back, his chains rattling and dosed his eyes tightly. Sweat ran off him in rivulets that collected on the slab, and many of his wounds had reopened with his exertions, staining his body with blood.

'I do not acknowledge your right to judge me,' he said in a hoarse whisper. 'I do not accept your authority.'

'Then you leave me no other choice,' Boreas told him, striding to the cell door and wrenching it open.

THE TALE OF BOREAS

PART THREE

They left no journey plans?' Boreas asked over the comm. He was standing on the bridge of the Dark Angels' ship, the Blade of Caliban, in orbit over Piscina IV. He had contacted the rapid strike vessel to prepare to seize the rogue trader's ship as he had ridden back to the keep, but it had left orbit. Now he and the other Space Marines were on board the Blade of Caliban to lead the search for the missing starship. Before they had left he had sent a coded astropathic message to the Tower of Angels telling of the presence of the Fallen at Piscina. It would be at least a dozen days before they received the message, and the same time again for a reply to return, and he hoped to be back on Piscina IV to receive it. But rather than wait idly for instructions, Boreas had decided to set off after the Saint Carthen in case the opportunity faded and the Fallen slipped away from his grasp.

'Intrasystem craft have already patrolled the designated exit passage, with no sign of the Saint Carthen, Lord Boreas,' replied Commodore Kayle, head of the Piscina system defence ships. He had already pledged to assist Boreas in his pursuit of the suspicious ship, and was now directing the operation from the orbital docking station. 'I have four vessels quartering the outer reaches, two more in the biosphere and another headed to the inner system.'

We shall also direct our ship to the core planets,' Boreas told him. 'It is possible they are aware they are being looked for. If they try to reach safe distance to jump into the warp, they know they will be detected.'

'Very well, Lord Boreas,' agreed Kayle. 'The inbound vessel is called the Thor Fifteen, under Captain Stehr. I shall inform him that you will be close to his position within a few days.'

'My thanks for your co-operation in this matter,' Boreas said. 'Please remind your captains that I merely wish them to locate the vessel. Under no circumstances is it to be boarded. If necessary, your ships may fire to cripple its progress but no other contact is to be made.'

'Your message has been passed on, Lord Boreas, though I do not fully understand such caution,' Kayle replied. 'My men are fully capable of dealing with pirates of this kind.'

'If we are just facing pirates, I shall be pleased, and my caution shall be proven unfounded,' Boreas told him. 'However, I fear a much worse enemy awaits anyone who attempts to board that ship. No one, absolutely no one, is to have any contact with members of the Saint Carthen s crew.'

'As you wish, Lord Boreas,' Kayle said. 'I will inform you if we make any contact, and I trust you will also keep me informed of any developments on your part.'

Kayle broke the contact and the comm buzzed for a moment until Boreas switched it off. He stood there for a moment glaring at the wide viewscreens that covered much of the bridge's dim interior, amongst the many dial-filled walls of readouts, gauges, speakers, display plates and monitoring positions. He silently willed the Saint Carthen to show herself on one of those screens, but he knew the search would not be so swift or so simple.

Like the keep on the planet below, the ship was staffed mainly with non-Space Marine serfs, mechanical servi­tors and a few tech-priests. He turned to Sen Neziel, the most senior of the ship's officers who served as captain when there were no Dark Angels aboard. He wore a sim­ple robe of deep green over a black bodysuit, his thin face crossed with childhood scars suffered during his exami­nation by the Apothecaries.

'Plot a course for the inner system, passing Piscina III inbound,' he told the man. 'I want the augurs to be fully manned at every minute. We must find the Saint Carthen before anyone else encounters it.'

'Very well, Interrogator-Chaplain, we shall proceed at full speed to Piscina III,' Neziel confirmed. 'I estimate our time to orbit at three and a half solar days.'

'Good, Neziel, good,' Boreas said absently before turn­ing and striding out of the bridge. He made his way to the ascensor to take him down three levels to the Space Marine quarters. Here the others were waiting for him to give them a briefing. As he waited for the ascensor to clank and rattle its way up the shaft, he pondered exactly what he would tell them. None of them were members of the Deathwing, so they had not been made privy to the existence of the Fallen. In fact, they had only been given the scantest information, wreathed in legends and myths, concerning the whole of the Horus Heresy.

Boreas had taken sacred vows never to divulge his knowledge of those turbulent times, for it was only upon admission to the Deathwing that the first layer of the half-truths were peeled away. He agreed completely with the traditional secrecy of the Chapter. If it were common knowledge that the Dark Angels had once teetered on the brink of treason, then the Chapter itself would be doomed. None outside the Inner Circle knew the full truth, except perhaps a few of the Imperium's inquisitors who suspected much but could prove nothing. As an Interrogator-Chaplain, Boreas was a member of the third level of the Inner Circle, which itself was the seventh level of secrets within the elite Deathwing. He knew much about the treachery of the Primarch Horus, of how the Lutherites had sided against the Emperor, and the Dark Angels had quested for ten millennia to atone for their near-treason. But he had learnt much more in the inter­rogation cell with Astelan. Much, much more. Boreas had not believed it at the time, merely dismissing it as propaganda and blinded judgment, but over the last years, in particular the last few months, the Fallen's argu­ments had seemed to gather greater weight in his mind.

With a loud grinding, the ascensor arrived. The doors opened with a wisp of escaping steam and Boreas stepped inside. As they slid shut, he jabbed at the rune for the Space Marines' berths. It rattled slowly down­wards, giving him more time to ponder what he would tell the others. When the ascensor arrived, he stepped out onto the metal decking and took a deep breath. Instead of going straight to the briefing chamber, he instead turned right and walked the short distance to the ship's chapel. It was sparsely decorated, with a simple embossed relief of the Chapter symbol and a small altar on which stood a golden cup and a ewer of red wine. Fill­ing the cup, he knelt and bowed his head. He took a long draught of the wine, placed the cup beside himself on the floor, and clasped his hands to his chest.

'We live in a galaxy of darkness,' he whispered, his throat dry. 'The ancient enemies of the Chapter surround us. The alien surges forth from its hiding place. The heretic rises up within the domain of the Emperor. I fear that the vilest of evils stirs once more. The corrupt, the renegade, the traitor sworn to the Dark Powers reach out their claws to destroy what we have built. I have laboured to shield the galaxy from these woes, and to protect my warriors from the perverting truth of the universe in which we live. Now I risk my honour. I must break my oath of secrecy to fulfil the greater oath I swore to protect the Emperor and his subjects. Look kindly on me from beyond the veil, great Lion, mightiest warlord of Caliban. I ask for your wisdom that it may guide my words and my deeds from your place beside the Emperor. I ask you to give me the strength to root out this cancerous treachery. I ask your forgiveness for what I must do to protect your name and the honour of what you created. Though my oath as a warrior of the Deathwing will be annulled, I now swear a new oath to you that I will stop at nothing to expunge this darkness. I shall let no obstacle stand between me and protecting that which is most dear to me. Give us your blessing in this endeavour and we shall strive to serve you. Grant us victory in this crusade of ours.'

Standing, Boreas bent down and lifted the goblet to his lips again, draining the last of the wine. Placing it back on the altar, he turned and left, striding purposefully into the briefing room. His moment of reflection and prayer had reinforced his belief in what he had to do. Feeling fortified and ready, he looked at the others seated on the foremost of the ten rows of benches stretched across the room. A pulpit shaped into a stylised two-headed eagle spreading its wings faced the auditorium, and Boreas stepped up behind the lectern, his hands clasped behind his back.

'My brothers,' he began, looking at their intent faces. 'In these last few years, we have been called upon only briefly to do what it is that we were created for. Skir­mishes, cleanses, patrols; these have been the closest we have come to the battles we were bred and raised for. But now that time of waiting has come to an end. Now those years of dormancy are over and it is time to unleash the Lion's angels of death, it is time for the fury of the Dark Angels to be known again! A foe is close by, in this very star system that we guard. They are the worst enemy we can ever face, and we must exact terrible retribution for their heinous crimes. Those crimes are made all the worse for they were perpetrated against everything we hold in our hearts. They are against the Emperor himself, they are against our primarch, Lion El'Jonson, and they are against the whole of our Chapter.'

Boreas paused, realising that he was now fiercely grip­ping the lectern, the metal of the eagle slowly buckling under the pressure of his fingers. The others were staring at his hands as well, alarm on their faces. Let them see my anger, Boreas told himself, keeping his grip strong. Let my example teach them the true meaning of a hated foe.

'There is something I must tell you all,' Boreas contin­ued, meeting each of their gazes in turn. Zaul's eyes were narrowed, his mouth pinched with apprehension. Damas met the Interrogator-Chaplain's stare with equal intensity. Thumiel rubbed at his chin, looking thought­ful. Hephaestus crossed his arms, waiting patiently for Boreas to continue with his speech. Boreas looked last at Nestor. The Apothecary looked relaxed, his gaze alternat­ing between Boreas and the others, his hands neatly clasped in his lap.

A sudden moment of hesitation gripped Boreas as they looked expectantly at him. As far as he knew, what he was about to do was unprecedented in the Chapter's history. It could be viewed as a terrible abuse of his position. Was he about to exceed his authority, he wondered? Could he really make such a decision on his own, with no guidance from his superiors? He had no other choice, he resolved. It would take weeks for a message to be sent to the Tower of Angels and a reply to return, by which time whatever trail the Saint Carthen had left could have disappeared altogether. The threat of the Fallen, he decided, not only outweighed the import of what he was about to tell his brethren, but also the personal consequences for him.

'When you became Space Marines, you were taught many things,' Boreas began. 'Most importantly, you learnt of the great history of the Dark Angels, and of the founding of the Imperium of Mankind. Ten thousand years ago, darkness shrouded the galaxy, humanity was scattered across the stars. They were isolated, preyed upon by aliens, riven with discord. But then the Emperor revealed himself and brought about the end of the Age of Strife, and thus began this golden age of the Imperium. He gave birth to us, his Space Marines. We reconquered the galaxy in his name. We brought war to a thousand foes, we liberated humanity from the grip of evil. The Emperor created us as perfect warriors, and none could stand before us. We ourselves, the Dark Angels, were the first Legion, at the forefront of the Great Crusade. Lion El'Jonson, our true father and our primarch, led us to vic­tory after victory and the name of the Dark Angels was renowned across the stars. The Emperor himself praised our bravery, our tenacity and our ferocity.'

Boreas could see the pride in the eyes of his assembled command. They had heard the grand tales, they knew the legends and could picture those glorious days as if they were there. The blood of the Lion pumped through their veins, the latest of ten thousand years of superhuman knights dedicated to the Emperor.

'But there was a darkness festering at the heart of what we built.' Boreas's voice dropped from a near-roar to a hushed whisper that would have been nearly inaudible to a normal human. 'You were told of how the weak amongst the Legions were corrupted. Of how the serpent Horus turned them from the path of glory laid down by the Emperor. They rose up and struck at the man who had created them, in an act of treachery so base it had never before been known or since repeated. Battle-brother fought against battle-brother and the Imperium wept at the destruction heaped upon it. But we tri­umphed over the darkness. The Emperor sacrificed himself to destroy Horus, his body crippled almost to death so that now he only can watch us through the strength of his mind and soul. They brought the Imperium to its knees, they shattered the empire that we had built and nearly took the Emperor from us. But we did not surrender, we prevailed. From the golden throne that sustains him, the Emperor has guided us for ten long millennia and we have striven to rebuild that which was almost torn asunder.'

Now the pride had gone, and hatred burned in the eyes of the Dark Angels listening intently to Boreas's words. For their whole lives they had been taught about the renegades who had followed Warmaster Horus and plunged the Imperium into catastrophic civil war. They had been taught that there was no foe to be more loathed, no enemy more deserving of death than the Traitor Marines. It was they who had turned to the Dark Gods and even now sallied forth from their lairs to bring misery and devastation.

The Dark Angels were ready for what Boreas had to tell them.