Heresy Bk. 01: Prophecy of Betraya

"Ardarik Velas, it's a pleasure to see you again," Khol said seeing him approach. "Shall I carry you up the stairs?"

"I'd like that, but I'm worried you might trip over your own hubris," Velas retorted.

"Now boys, don't make me separate you two," Camille warned. "We are here to document this moment, not ruin it."

They both knew she was right. The Remebrancer order had been tasked with recording the Great Crusade so that others may learn of it in the future. They had been dispatched to the expedition fleets of the crusade, many against the will of the Primarchs.

They headed up the stairway to the gantry overlooking the launch bay. It was a massive area filled with the sleek, angular forms of thunderhawk gunships, capable of bearing the Space Marines to war. Alongside the mighty thunderhawks were smaller gunships and attack craft of all classes and sizes, as well as several shuttles which would bear the envoy to the surface.

"By the Emperor," Khol whispered. Below them was the envoy, made up of Kharri Van Eisen and several others from the Adeptus Administratum. Army aides stood by her side, receiving a final briefing from Lord Commander Varvaras and First Captain Abaddon. A great cacophony filled the room as men and servitors loaded ammunition onto waiting thunderhawks.

Abaddon moved back to his men, speaking words that only they could hear. Velas was snapping picts furiously, deciding to sort them out later. The First Company stood in formation, neat, perfectly straight lines separated by one body length. Each battle brother had a stream of parchment attached to their right shoulder guard by wax, the black armor of their Terminator armor gleaming brightly in the light of the bay. Abaddon and another, who he made out to be Falkus Kibre, stood before their men.

Kibre turned to face his captain, his back now to his men. He knelt down, ready to receive his oath of moment. He presented his weapon, a Ryza pattern storm bolter, to swear his oath upon. Abaddon held up his hand and the launch bay went deathly quiet.

"Do you, Falkus Kibre, promise to lead your men into the zone of war and conduct them to glory, no matter the ferocity or ingenuity of the foe?" Abaddon read from the parchment he held. "Do you swear to crush the opposing forces of Sixty-Three Eighteen, despite anything they may throw at you? Do you pledge to do honor to the XVI Legion and the Emperor?"

Falkus looked into his captains eyes. "On this matter, and by this weapon, I swear."

Abaddon fixed the parchment to his armor with wax, exchanging places when he was finished. After he was oathed to the moment, the First Company was dismissed with orders to stand by their respective thunderhawks in case the call came for help.

Velas had been taking picts like a man possessed. He took some final picts of the men milling about and one good one of the First Captain embracing Falkus Kibre before turning to the others. Camille had been sketching away in a small book, while Khol had been taking notes. Both had filled several pages. Velas had no doubt that Camille would create a masterpiece from this opportunity, yet he couldn't help but wonder what Khol would make of this trip. Few remembrancers have had the opportunity to witness such events, and he hoped, for khol's sake, that he didn't mess up this chance.

Descending the stairs, the group headed quickly away from the Astartes section of the ship. Having a pass granted them access, yet it wouldn't stop a Space Marine from questioning them. The thought of having to explain his actions to one of the Emperor's finest warriors made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

As they returned to the section of the lower decks which housed the remembrancers, Camille stopped. She began flipping through her sketch book, looking over each of the drawings she had made, rather quickly, while they witnessed the gathering.

"Hey Ardarik," she called as they reached the lounge.

"Yes my dear, what can I do for you?" He responded.

"When the picts are ready, can I borrow some for reference material? I want to make sure I get the colors just right."

"Of course, I'll let you know when they are ready. Shouldn't take too long," Velas replied. He was happy that someone would get to see his work again. Lately, any picts he took were sent back to Terra, probably to be stored in some dusty old archive where nobody would see them until long after his bones were dust.

"Thank you," Camille said with a smile. "I look forward to seeing them."

"So do I," he told her.

~Chapter 2~

~Envoy

~Summons

~A Mysterious Image

Kharri Van Eisen stood on the lush grasslands of Sixty-Three Eighteen, her shuttle providing a reprieve from the heat of the day. The master of the White Dragons, the most powerful of the lords governing the planet, had them escorted out following news that the commander himself would not be coming to the surface to meet with him. The Warmaster was not pleased with this turn of events, and faced a dilemma, either order the attack or force his envoy inside. He ordered the Byzant Janizars, the Imperial Army forces attached to the expedition, to activate their locator beacon and standby for assistance. The First Company was on the way.

As she stood in the shade, Kharri Van Eisen couldn't help but marvel at the world around her. Grass the color of emeralds swayed lazily in the afternoon breeze, the wind stirring the treetops of the forest a thousand feet away. Large, furry animals with great antlers roamed the plains, grazing on grass and trumpeting to each other. One thing she noticed, they all kept their distance from the forest.

The castle was impressive as well, the large stone structure rising a hundred feet and ringed by a thirty foot mote. The only way in on foot was the great wooden drawbridge, now retracted as to bar entrance from those of her delegation. From the gatehouse hung great banners of red, a black circle in the center and a white winged serpent within. Smaller pendants along the parapet flapped in the breeze, each bearing the same symbol.

Her attention was drawn to the sky by the soft howling of ships entering the atmosphere. Bright trails of heat followed the craft as they burned toward her position, the growl of their engines barely audible at this distance. She couldn't help but smile, knowing that even if breaking into the castle meant war, she would have the finest warriors in the galaxy with her.

As the tiny shapes sped ever closer to her, Van Eisen could count the craft. Ten in all, ten craft filled with ten men in bulky suits of Terminator armor and equipped with enough munitions to kill every living thing on this planet within two days. The thunderhawks swooped in low over her position, circling around over the castle and the forest before setting down in a wide semicircle around her shuttle. With a hiss, the frontal ramps of the gunships lowered and the mighty forms of the First Company marched out.

Each warrior was huge, a full head taller than any normal man without their armor. Their genhanced bodies able to survive in the most hostile environments, even the vacuum of space for a short while. Clad in their midnight black armor, each warrior was like an individual castle, impenetrable behind the ceramite and plasteel plates forged by the Mechanicum on Mars. As the men of the First Company assembled, Ezekyle Abaddon headed towards Van Eisen, the heavy armor moving easily thanks to the fiber bundles aiding his already augmented muscles.

"So, they refuse to listen to reason eh?" Abaddon snarled as he approached. She could see the anger brewing just beneath the surface, like a caged animal waiting to be unleashed.

"It appears that way," she said, keeping her distance. "How do you plan to gain entry?"

"Catulan Reavers will assault the gatehouse and drop the bridge, from there we walk right in," he said with a smirk.

Hastur Sejanus entered the sparring chambers, the large room contained several practice cages with training servitors. Never one to slouch off on training, he frequently spent hours at a time honing his skills with a blade. He noticed Tarik Torgaddon and Garviel Loken talking after a match; the two had started a friendship it seemed. He stripped to the waist; his muscular body looked more like a sculpture than that of a person, his noble features having been called 'the finest figure in Mk IV plate'. He moved to enter the practice cage before he heard his name called.

"Captain Sejanus." The voice was rough, aged by years of yelling in combat.

"First Chaplain Erebus, I was unaware you had joined us," Sejanus said, turning to face his brother from the Word Bearers Legion. Erebus was an imposing one, his gray power armor bearing the Legion symbol of a flaming book, his shaved scalp covered in tattoos of scripture.

"Lorgar Aurelian has seconded me to your fleet for the time being. It's been too long brother," he said as they embraced like old friends.

"Care for a round or two?" Sejanus asked, motioning towards the practice cage.

"Unfortunately I cannot, I have other business which requires my attention. Do you know where I might find Ezekyle?"

"First company was deployed to the surface hours ago, I'm not certain when he will return."

"Very well, thank you. I look forward to seeing you later." Erebus turned on his heel and walked out, leaving Sejanus to the practice cages.

He entered the cage, closing the door behind him and heading for the weapon rack to select a blade. Choosing a combat knife like the one he carried, he activated the practice servitor and began his workout, dodging its razor sharp blades and striking with his own. Hours passed and many practice servitors had been destroyed by the time his exercises were complete. As he turned to leave, he noticed Tarik Torgaddon had been watching him.

"Tarik, how are you?" Hastur asked as he wiped the sweat from his face and chest.

"You never cease to amaze me," he said as he patted Sejanus on the back.

"How so?"

"You would spend days in there if you could, yet you never get any better," Torgaddon laughed.

"One of us should try and get better, might come in handy one day," Sejanus quipped back. Both men laughed at the exchange, Tarik knew that Sejanus was second in martial prowess only to Abaddon.

"Run and get changed, the Warmaster wants to speak with us," Torgaddon told him as they headed for the arming chambers.

Hastur Sejanus stood outside the Warmaster's chamber, waiting for Torgaddon to arrive. He laughed as he remembered how much of a hurry Tarik was in, yet he happens to be the last one to show up. As Sejanus mused, he unconsciously ran his hand over the large emblem on the doors to the chamber. The large stone circle bearing the wolf head and crescent moon of the Legion. Whenever he saw it, Sejanus felt a burst of pride. He had been with the Legion for a hundred years, since shortly before the start of the Great Crusade. He had won many victories for the Luna Wolves and had seen many come and go. His thoughts drifted to battle brothers long gone and his mood darkened a bit, yet he was saved by the sound of footsteps on metal, two pairs.

Torgaddon came around the corner with Erebus in tow. Each, like Sejanus, wore their power armor, though Torgaddon was so large, even for an Astartes, that his suit looked a few sizes too small. It was a running joke that Tarik's armor had to be made out of spare Terminator armor parts, held together by hope and fortune.

"Brothers," Sejanus said in greeting.

"See, I told you he'd be early," Torgaddon said to Erebus with a smile. "Best not keep the Warmaster waiting."

Ardarik Velas had been up all night. The picts had been rendered, sorted and put on data slates. He had kept copies of the best ones on a separate slate to send home to his wife, if she was still waiting, he thought. His mind drifted back to the fight they had when he told her he had accepted the offer to join the Remebrancer order. They had yelled for hours, she had cried so much her eyes went dry, then she had left and gone Emperor knows where. He pushed the thoughts from his mind, grabbed a data slate and went to find Camille.

He found her in the corridor, talking with Melus Khol. His feelings for Camille Gaines had been kept as his deepest secret, despite believing she would never feel the same. He was old and rough around the edges, years of work had seen his body abused, yet he hoped that she might find something of interest in him. She was young and fit, blooming with energy and life. He pushed the thoughts aside when she smiled at him.

That's when he understood. He was doing all the talking, probably telling her of his next poem or some other boring thing. While her voice feigned interest, her body language spoke more than Khol realized. He was happy his arrival would give her a reprieve.

"Hello Ardarik, how did the picts come out?" Camille asked with genuine interest. It was much more than she had shown Khol.

"Very well I think. I brought you copies of my best ones. If you would like to see more, feel free to stop by anytime," Velas replied, handing her the data slate.

She accepted it, giving him a hug. "Thank you, now I can really brighten up my latest work. Drop by later if you would like to see it."

"I'd very much like that," Velas said with a smile. "What sketch did you decide to paint?"

Melus Khol cleared his throat, obviously annoyed that he was being completely excluded from the conversation. Velas stifled a laugh when he saw how red Khol's face had become.

"Melus, I'm terribly sorry, I forgot you were there. How is your poetry coming?" Velas asked with disinterest.

"Its coming along wonderfully. This might just be my best work yet, so great it'll catch the ear of the Warmaster himself," Khol boasted.

"I look forward to hearing it. Unfortunately I must go; these picts won't send themselves to the archives. I hope to see you later Miss Gaines," Velas said with a bow.

"See you later Ardarik," Camille called after him.

Velas returned to his room, though it was so spartan it could hardly bear the name. It's only contents were a bed, a small dresser and a desk with a projector for viewing his picts. Everything he owned, everything he held dear, was right here with him. He pulled out the data slate he kept for his best picts and slipped it into the projector's reader, the first one coming to life as clear as if he were standing there again. He cycled through them, pausing to examine the details in each one. Ardarik loved details, each bit bringing character, each piece telling a story. He stopped at a pict of First Captain Abaddon embracing Falkus Kibre; something was out of the ordinary here, an object passing between their hands.

"Hello, what are you?" he asked to the empty room. He enhanced the image as much as he could, yet the image was still too dark. He decided to come back to it later, zooming back out and setting the images to play as a slideshow and laying down on the bed. He closed his eyes to try and rest, yet he couldn't get the thoughts from his mind. What was that thing? A token of some kind? A badge? He desperately wanted to know, yet he had nobody to ask.

Who would he ask anyway? The First Captain? His disdain for remembrancers was made very clear when one had snuck onto the Astartes decks and Abaddon had hauled him back to his quarters by his shirt. He resolved to ask some of the documentarists and see if he could arrange a meeting with someone more even tempered. He had heard that Captain Loken was rather calm, as well as Captain Sejanus.

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on his door. He opened it and Camille bounced in, her excitement barely contained. He smiled at the thought of her so happy, and had to remind himself that they were only friends, no matter how much he wanted to be more.

"Someone is a bit excited," he said as she sat down at his desk and looked through the images on the data slate.

"Very," she said without looking at him. "I think I might have seen something in one of these... There it is." She stopped at the same pict he had been looking at earlier of Abaddon and Kibre. "What do you suppose that is?"

"I was wondering the same thing not long ago. I haven't been able to tell from the image and I have no contacts who I could ask," Velas told her.

"Well I'm sure there is someone here who has connections," Camille said with a smile. "We just have to find them."

~Chapter 3~

~Orders

~Hratli

~Prophet

Hastur Sejanus sat in his personal arming chamber polishing his armor. The Legion artificers had done a marvelous job of working out the scratches and gouges he had received on Lamaranth. He was working the lapping powder into the breastplate when there was a soft knock on the door.

"Enter," he said, the door opening moments later.

"Captain Sejanus?" Questioned a soft female voice.

"The one and only," he responded, setting aside his work and turning to face the woman. He had to admit she was beautiful, her pale skin accentuated by her long golden hair. She was trim and carried herself with pride.

"Marie Kardis," she said, presenting her hand. "I was told you might be able to tell me what happened on Lamaranth."

"Have you asked Captain Abaddon about this matter?"

"I have sir, he was less than receptive," she stated with distaste.

"Of course he was," Sejanus said shaking his head. "I'm curious, why do you want to know?"

"I'm a documentarist sir, its my duty to record what transpires for future generations," she said proudly.

"Is that so? Well, have a seat."

Sejanus stood with Tarik Torgaddon and Erebus in the Warmaster's chamber, the large room contained a large oak desk with a chair, a bed with a small footlocker at the foot, and a massive window giving him a magnificent view of the void as well as the ships in it. Horus Lupercal sat at his desk with Maloghust standing behind him.

"Welcome, unfortunately I have some disheartening news. Ezekyle has gained entry and talks are proceeding with the lord of the White Dragons, Hratli, I'm told is his name. However, he is refusing to accept us as brethren and has no interest in the Imperial truth.

I have given strict orders for Captain Abaddon not to tear him limb from limb yet because I fear something darker may be happening to these people.

"Why is that my lord?" Sejanus asked.

"We are detecting surges of Warp energy coming from the mountains. I'm sending you and two squads to check it out. If you need reinforcements, they will be on standby."

"Of course, lord," Sejanus said. "May I request a detachment from the Silent Sisterhood? Their skill in this department would be of great value to us.

"Done. I will hail the Moriens Lux and have them meet you on the surface. Tactical data will be uploaded to the network before you depart," Horus said before turning to Torgaddon.

"Torgaddon, I want the Second drawn up as reserves if necessary."

"As you wish," he said with a bow.

"Erebus, I'll need a moment of your time," Horus commanded. Sejanus and Torgaddon knew that was their cue to leave and smartly pivoted to exit the room.

Sejanus and his men were stationed in the launch bay, arrayed before the Primarch himself. Hastur Sejanus stood ready to receive his oath of moment before Horus and Torgaddon, with Little Horus reading the oath aloud. Sejanus knelt before them, Torgaddon holding his Godwyn pattern bolter as the weapon the oath would be sworn upon.

"Hastur Sejanus, do you accept your role in this?" Aximand read. "Do you swear to carry out your mission as instructed to the best of your abilities, to keep safe your battle brothers and bring honor to the Emperor and the XVI Legion?"