Dark Hunters: Umbra Sumus

TWENTY-FOUR

Valediction

‘He did not die,’ Kharne Al Murzim said, the sorrow heavy in his voice. ‘He should have died that day.’

The Chapter Master of the Dark Hunters looked down from the heights of the tower to the wide flagged courtyard at the heart of Mors Angnar below. It was blowing hard from the mountains, flurries of snow speeding on the bitter wind, and the Argahasts were tall, looming titans on the horizon, blinding bright at the brim of the world. The fleeting sun was passing over them, and under it the ragged shadows of clouds sped before the gale, like banners on a battlefield.

‘It would have been better,’ the Reclusiarch said, settling his hands deep in the folds of his black habit. ‘With his survival, he tainted the victory. And now a captain of the Chapter is to be…’ he trailed off.

‘The Inquisition had no choice, Brother Malchai. Once what he had done became common knowledge, it was inevitable.’

‘I agree. His decision baffled me at the time, and yet it may have saved the planet. Without the help of the eldar it is possible we might not have held on as long as we did.’

‘That sounds very strange coming from a Reclusiarch of the Adeptus Astartes, Brother Malchai.’

‘I know. I have thought on this and prayed on it many times in the last year, my lord, and I cannot come to any other conclusion. Jonah Kerne committed heresy, yet by doing so, he preserved Ras Hanem long enough for you to pull it back from the brink. We must give him credit for that, at least.’

‘Indeed. But it was Diez and the Arbion who brought us word of the second invasion, let us not forget. Preparations for the relief were already well under way when Brother Vennan received the message from the eldar. Jonah Kerne was outwitted, betrayed by the xenos he chose to help. He kept his word, but theirs was never worth anything.’

‘They paid for it,’ Malchai said with a snarl.

‘We executed their leader, all those who stayed behind. But the artefact which was the cause of it all has escaped us. For that, Captain Kerne must pay a heavy price.’ Kharne Al Murzim shut his eyes a moment, his face gnarled in pain.

Then he collected himself. ‘Your reports were invaluable – they have all been forwarded to the Inquisition of course. Not that it will do any good. His guilt has always been undeniable.’

Al Murzim paused, and sighed. ‘There he is.’

Below them, a solitary figure in a midnight-blue habit was walking across the flagstones of the courtyard. Its hood was up, and the wind tugged at the robe. The figure came to a halt near the centre of the open square, and looked up.

Al Murzim turned away from the sight, walking across his chamber with his head bowed.

‘He should have died,’ the Chapter Master whispered.

Jonah Kerne was gazing upon the towering heights of the Argahast Mountains which loomed over Mors Angnar. They had caught the sun, and were bright as silver in the rare brilliance of the light. He smiled. He was glad he had been able to see them like this one last time.

Footsteps on the flagstones made him turn around. It was Fornix, his hood thrown back and his bionic eye bright as a glede in the cold sunlight.

‘You shouldn’t be here, brother,’ Kerne told him.

‘I had to come,’ Fornix said simply.

‘You are captain of Mortai now. You cannot allow yourself to be tainted by my misdeeds.’

‘Let them go to hell, if they think I will let you make the walk out of here alone, Jonah.’

Kerne reached out a hand. It was metallic, a composite of alloys and wires and cabling. Fornix took it in the warrior grip.

‘Well, brother-captain, let us be on our way. I hear they are waiting.’

They marched out of the square together, unaware that Brother Malchai was watching them all the way from the tower above, his face clenched in grief and regret.

‘Goodbye, Jonah,’ the Reclusiarch whispered as the two disappeared.

Out on the landing pad, the shuttle was waiting, and beside it stood two figures, power armoured and with their cloaks billowing in the wind. There was no emotion on their faces as Kerne and Fornix approached. They were so similar in their impassive brutishness that they might have been twins.

‘You are Jonah Kerne, of the Dark Hunters Chapter of the Adeptus Astartes,’ one of them said.

‘I am,’ Kerne replied.

‘We are brethren of the Ordo Xenos of the Emperor’s Inquisition, and are here to take you into custody for trial on charges of heresy and xenos taint. Are you ready?’

‘I am.’

Kerne turned to Fornix. ‘Look after Mortai for me, my friend.’

Fornix could only nod.

Then Kerne followed the Inquisitors up the ramp to the open hatch of the shuttle. As the ramp came up he turned round one last time to look at the shining mountains of his home, to breathe in that chill air and feel the wind of Phobian on his face.

Then the hatch closed shut upon him.