C. Goto - Dawn of War

Home. Gabriel knew nothing of the value of homecoming. Cyrene had been Isador’s home too.

In truth, Isador had never understood why the Blood Ravens did not require all of their senior officers to be Librarians. There were enough of them in the Chapter-far more than was typical in any other Chapter of Space Marines-and the Chapter Master himself was a powerful Librarian. It was ridiculous to expect that captains like Gabriel could really make sensible decisions about relics like this altar-only a Librarian could know the true value of the artefact. But Gabriel would not ask advice on command decisions, he was adamant that the responsibility was his.

In practice, however, only a handful of Librarians ever acceded to positions of command, except temporarily, in the absence of their captain. It was as though the Chapter had learnt nothing from the example of their Great Father, Azariah Vidya.

Once, during the early stages of his training, Isador had asked Chaplain Prathios about the politics of promotion within the Blood Ravens, but the Chaplain had just shaken his head sadly and said: there is no promotion, young Isador, there is only service-we all have our parts to play for the glory of the Great Father and the Emperor. At the time, Isador had nodded sagely, believing that he saw the sense in subsuming himself into the organic unity of the Chapter. But now, with the morning wind whispering down through the valley and whistling between the rocks, after two days of war against orks and eldar, on an alien planet that was about to be swallowed by a warp storm, he was not so sure. Different decisions could have been made-and he would have made them better.

But all was not lost, since he had saved this altar fragment, and he would work out a way of using the knowledge that it contained to save the Blood Ravens Third Company from making any further mistakes.

“Knowledge is power,” he muttered to himself, reciting the Chapter’s motto as though it were his own. “Guard it well.”

“Librarian Akios. What a surprise to see you here.” The familiar voice came down from the top of one of the large rocks behind which Isador was sitting.

“Colonel Brom. I had no idea that you were there,” said Isador, wondering exactly how long the Tartaran had been watching him. He had been so absorbed in his thoughts that he hadn’t noticed, and he made a mental note that he should not let that happen again. For all of his faults, Gabriel was never complacent enough to be taken by surprise by a Guardsman.

Brom breathed a plume of smoke out of his lungs, enjoying being higher than the massive Marine for the first time. The smoke settled slowly down towards Isador, dissipating as it reached his immaculate, blue armour. Instead of speaking, Brom took another draw on his lho-stick and looked off into the sunrise, apparently enjoying the beauty of dawn on his homeworld.

“It is beautiful, is it not?” asked Brom openly.

Isador turned and looked at the sunrise for the first time and nodded. “Yes, colonel. Tartarus is a beautiful planet.”

“It is my home, Librarian, and I will not give it up. Not to the orks, not to the eldar, and not even to the Blood Ravens.” As he spoke, Brom turned his head away from the sun, fixing Isador with a firm and determined stare.

“I can assure you that Captain Angelos has no designs on your planet, colonel… beautiful though it is,” said Isador, trying to diffuse the anger that seemed to bubble in the background of Brom’s tone.

“Do you remember your homeworld, Librarian?” There was some acid in the question, and Isador flinched slightly as it stung him. Even if Brom had been watching him for a while, how could he know? A cold wisp of wind flickered between the rocks, making them both shiver.

“Yes, I remember it well,” he replied plainly.

“And did the good captain save it?” asked Brom. He knew. Somehow he knew.

“Gabriel did what had to be done,” snapped Isador, suddenly leaping to the defence of his old friend. “I would have done the same thing had the decision been mine.” And I would have done, he realised as he spoke.

Brom let another thread of smoke ease out between his pursed lips, as though unconcerned by the Librarian’s sudden emotion. His eyes were still burning into the radiant blue of Isador’s, glowing with an inhuman taint of red. For a moment, Isador wondered whether it was really Brom that was staring down at him.

“And what of Tartarus?” he asked, changing the subject and watching the colonel carefully. “You mentioned some legends about a storm, colonel. I would be most interested to hear more about it.”

“You can read it yourself, can’t you?” hissed Brom, his voice dripping with venom as his eyes swam with red, as though riddled with burst capillaries.

Stung again, Isador vaulted up the side of the rock and grabbed Brom by the collar of his coat, lifting him clear off the ground. As they turned away from the dawn, the red faded from Brom’s eyes and he began to cough violently, exhaling gouts of smoke into a sudden gust of wind.

“Librarian Akios!” The voice made Isador drop Brom into a heap on top of the rock, as he turned back towards the camp.

Standing just outside the fortifications was Sergeant Corallis, waving a summons to Isador. “The captain wants to see you. You can bring the colonel.”

“Captain Angelos, I am here as you requested,” said Brom, pushing aside the curtains that hung across the entrance to the command post next to the shrine. Isador loomed behind him for a moment, before pushing past him into the hab-unit and nodding a greeting to Gabriel.

“Colonel Brom, thank you for coming. We need your Tartarans to cover this pass. The combat in this sector will be sure to attract the attention of the remnants of the ork forces, and we cannot afford their interference further up the mountain. If the Blood Ravens have to engage the eldar, we will need no other distractions,” explained Gabriel, watching the tension between Brom and Isador with unease.

“Understood, captain,” replied Brom professionally. “You may count on the Imperial Guard to hold this pass. No ork will get through while a Tartaran still holds his weapon.”

“Very good, colonel. Keep me appraised of the situation and, if possible, I will send support if the orks do attack.” Gabriel hesitated for a moment, as though on the brink of adding something. But then he waved his hand dismissively “Thank you, colonel. Your assistance in this matter is much appreciated.”

Brom bowed sharply and then left, leaving Isador and Gabriel alone.

“What is wrong, old friend?” asked Gabriel-the angst on Isador’s face was plain to see.

“I do not trust him, Gabriel,” said Isador, watching the curtains close behind Brom.

“He is a good man, Isador. A good soldier. His men love him, and they follow him without question, mostly. He may not be a Space Marine, and he may not even be the finest officer in the Imperial Guard, but he is a good man. I have been too harsh on him, and it is time for me to share some responsibility. This is his homeworld, after all,” said Gabriel frankly.

Isador observed his old friend for a few moments, a torrent of emotions flashing through his mind as the events of the last few minutes rehearsed themselves in his head. They had been through so much together-born and raised on the same planet, and then inducted into the Blood Ravens in the same Blood Trials. A wave of remorse and affection washed over him, and he felt like himself again.

“Forgive me, captain, I am still thinking about the altar,” confessed Isador.

“There is nothing to forgive, old friend. You are a Librarian of the Blood Ravens, and I would be disappointed if you stopped thinking about it before you have solved the riddle,” replied Gabriel, laughing faintly.