My Life as A Death Guard
Chapter 387: Good News, Word Bearers
Blinding white light flared in arcs across his armor. Ferrus rested a hand lightly against the command dais and turned his gaze toward Hades.
Hades had his head slightly lowered, listening to the intercepted channel.
It was all very ordinary, the standard greetings exchanged when two forces encountered one another. The wording was properly official.
The Word Bearers' voices echoed politely through the channel, while the Lord of Medusa responded from time to time with a stiff grunt of acknowledgment.
He watched Hades, waiting for Hades's judgment.
…No… Hades thought. Although time could be somewhat distorted when the Silent Sisterhood traveled alone through the Warp, when they traveled together with the Iron Hands, their temporal flow was normal.
According to the charts, no matter how fast they were, the Word Bearers could not possibly be here yet.
Hades blinked and looked at Ferrus, silently mouthing a few words.
The Lord of Medusa nodded and, during a brief lull in the Word Bearers' speech, spoke up:
"I wish to meet with Lorgar."
The reply came quickly. The decision was not in the hands of this small detachment, but they had already notified the Primarch.
Ferrus paused, then softened his tone slightly.
"If I recall correctly, the Fourth Legion is stationed here. Are they still present, or have they moved on to another region?"
"My lord, the Word Bearers and the Fourth Legion are jointly stationed in this sector. Proceed another three zones inward and you will see the Iron Warriors' Legion."
Hades and Ferrus exchanged a glance. Ferrus continued,
"Two Legions are already stationed here? In that case, the Iron Hands will not advance further on this expedition."
The response was once again polite well-wishes, wishing success in the Great Crusade.
Ferrus terminated the transmission. He turned to face Hades, who was still deep in thought.
"What can you make of this?"
Hades gently shook his head.
"The Word Bearers shouldn't be here. There are three possibilities: first, nothing is actually wrong, they simply didn't receive the notice from Terra, just like the Iron Hands. Second, the Word Bearers have already encountered problems, but the wound hasn't spread yet, and the squad we met is merely a group of survivors. Third, the Word Bearers are compromised, and this scouting party deliberately answered us this way."
Hades's gaze flickered. The Silent Sisterhood's ships were now completely dispersed and concealed within the Iron Hands fleet. Unless the enemy opened Warp sight at full capacity, that detachment wouldn't know Hades was present.
As Hades pondered, another communication request from the Word Bearers came through. The signal light flashed urgently. Ferrus opened the channel without hesitation.
"Lord of the Tenth Legion, the Iron Hands,"
The Word Bearer on the other end was a different man, his tone noticeably anxious.
"Although two Legions are already stationed in the Cygnus Sector, I, Sor Talgron, with my life on the line, I beg you to meet with our Primarch."
Hades raised an eyebrow imperceptibly. It seemed they had run into an exceptional situation.
Ferrus followed up calmly, "Why."
Ferrus asked evenly. Noise erupted in the channel, it sounded as though the Word Bearers were arguing among themselves.
Ferrus gave them a moment to react. Then his voice hardened.
"Answer my question directly, Sor Talgron. Your earlier words were already disrespectful. If you choose not to answer me and continue to contradict a Primarch…"
Ferrus's voice trailed off. He waited.
Sor's slightly panting voice rang out again, urgent—he sounded as though he had just physically overpowered several brothers who opposed him, his words tumbling out in a rush.
"My deepest apologies, my lord, but there is no time for a careful explanation. Our father's condition has been… not quite right lately. After his meeting with the Primarch of the Fourth Legion, he became—"
"Apologies, my lord."
A different voice replaced his on the channel.
"Sor Talgron was recently stripped by our father of his position as Captain of the 34th Grand Company and reassigned to serve with our detachment. The drastic change in status has left him somewhat unstable."
Ferrus and Hades exchanged a glance. Hades made a few quick hand signs.
Ferrus fell silent. In the Primarch's channel, there was only the faint crackle of electrical arcs. Hades imagined the pressure being exerted on the other side by the Primarch's silence.
"To contradict a Primarch… how do the Word Bearers intend to deal with him?"
Ferrus's voice rang out, edged with impatience and anger.
"Don't tell me you intend to brush this off by waiting for orders from your superiors."
Hades turned his head. While Ferrus spoke with the other side, he gestured urgently toward Santor, the Iron Hands warrior standing guard at the command chamber door.
"Come here—quickly," Hades whispered.
Santor glanced at his father in confusion. Ferrus met his eyes with a firm look, and so Santor stepped forward.
Closing the distance, Santor could hear the hesitant, stammered explanations coming from the other channel.
"You are being sufficiently disrespectful." Ferrus said.
"I don't care about anything else, but discipline must be upheld. Errors require punishment. Let him engage in a duel with my warrior, Santor. If he wins, this matter will not be raised again."
Hades bent slightly and clapped a hand on Santor's shoulder, patching him into Ferrus's channel with the Word Bearers. Santor's eyes widened. He could tell that the two commanders had ulterior motives—but what exactly were they having him do—
He saw Hades's lips move: win, get on the ship.
Ferrus's voice fell silent at just the right moment. Santor swallowed and spoke, anger ringing in his voice:
"I, Gabriel Santor, Captain of the Iron Hands First Company, do hereby issue a duel challenge to Sor Talgron of the Word Bearers, before the witness of the Iron Fist."
. . .
The Word Bearers escorting Sor onto the Iron Hands flagship were overwhelmed almost instantly, their communications cut and their bodies slammed to the deck.
Sor turned back in shock, watching as the battle-brothers escorting him were disarmed by Iron Hands emerging from the shadows. Though he didn't understand what was happening, Sor drew his warhammer, preparing to fight alongside his fellow Word Bearers.
Then Santor pinned him down, face-first, pressing him hard against the metal deck of the Iron Fist.
A massive shadow fell before Sor. He felt his limbs grow weak. He swallowed and thought furiously about what he should do now.
A deep voice spoke, its tone calm, almost casual.
"Relax, Sor of the Word Bearers. I'd like to ask you a few questions."
Not… not Ferrus's voice. And not Santor's either.
The Santor restraining him remained silent and smashed Sor across the back with the butt of his gun.
"Answer this lord's questions properly, Sor. I don't think you want things to escalate into a bigger misunderstanding."
The unfamiliar voice sounded again.
"No need to be so tense. In truth, I greatly admire your courage, Sor."
Sor's mind was nearly mush at this point. He was certain he'd been dragged into a far larger vortex, though he had no idea what it was, unless…
Sor recalled his earlier words, and his heart jolted.
"What happened to Lorgar?"
The voice asked softly.
Sor felt his blood freeze. He gasped.
"Has something happened!? Have the other lords realized something, my lord!?"
Sor shouted.
His reply was another heavy blow from Santor for dodging the question. Sor felt ceramite shards from his power armor bite into his back.
"Yes. Someone has realized it. That is precisely why I am here."
The voice replied unhurriedly.
"Now, answer my question, Sor. What's wrong with Lorgar?"
Sor clenched his teeth. He tasted blood in his mouth and cried out:
"Something changed! My lord, I mean—Lord Lorgar became… wrong. He began compiling new doctrines, not—not about the God-Emperor."
Footsteps sounded. Sor could imagine the lord slowly pacing behind him.
"What about the Custodian, where did he go? I recall that Vendatha was not the sort to neglect his duty."
Sor felt his blood turn icy. His mind buzzed loudly. Now he was completely certain that the one questioning him had come to deal with the Word Bearers. The Legion was absolutely convinced that the God-Emperor had never proactively revealed to other Legions the fact that a Custodian were stationed among the Word Bearers, and even those who had seen the Custodian would not know their titles so clearly.
Let alone that the other party had directly spoken the name of the Custodian, Vendatha.
But… but… Sor struggled to think. Before his exile, he had already heard the news that his close brother Argel Tal had been suddenly demoted. He had secretly gone to see Argel Tal about it, and Argel Tal had told him some deeply unsettling things.
Sor never lived to see that calamity unfold, because soon afterward he had been cast out of the main fleet for secretly seeking out Argel Tal.
But was this kind of information… really suitable to tell those who had come to "handle" the problem? It would certainly invite punishment. Sor stammered,
"I'm not very clear on that. The Custodian were not well-liked among the Word Bearers."
The footsteps stopped.
"Then Vendatha has likely already fallen."
The voice delivered the terrifying conclusion softly.
"Do you agree with my assessment, Sor?"
Sor remained silent. He felt cold sweat slide down his forehead.
With a sigh, the voice grew firm.
"That means one layer of protection we placed beside Lorgar has failed," the stranger said calmly.
"This was not surveillance. It was protection, Sor. This is precisely the kind of situation we feared."
Sor's teeth chattered as he spoke, trembling,
"My lord, if I may be so bold, who… who are you?"
The voice paused briefly, as if judging whether Sor was worthy of knowing his name.
"Hades," Hades said.
"Perhaps you know me better by another title… the Silent One."
Hades watched as the Word Bearer's body seemed to lose all strength and slump to the floor. He nodded lightly. Santor released Sor. Iron Hands raised a melta gun and slowly stood, its barrel aimed at Sor's head.
Sor did not get up. He remained plastered to the deck like a dead fish. After a long while, his weak voice finally sounded,
"My lord… please save us. Something is definitely wrong. Father… Father isn't normal."
Out of the corner of his eye, Sor saw the Silent One standing expressionless, shrouded in darkness.
"So you don't actually know very much."
Hades said with disappointment. Perhaps he should not have expected much from someone exiled to a peripheral squad. By now, Hades was quite certain they had encountered a group of soldiers far removed from the center.
As he thought, Hades informed Ferrus to casually placate the other detachment and then, using the pretext of visiting Lorgar, continue advancing inward.
At this point, it could be confirmed that at least two Legions were present. Hades calculated silently: the Word Bearers' degree of corruption might not yet be deep, but that, too, could be an illusion. And Perturabo…
Hades frowned as the thought struck him. Why Perturabo?
Two Legions. That meant the coming battle would likely be difficult. But this was no time to retreat or dig in. Hades knit his brow tightly—the other side had already noticed them.
Even if the Iron Hands chose to withdraw now and wait for reinforcements—if the Eye of Terror were opened before those reinforcements arrived, the outcome would still be defeat and death.
Which meant that the decisive point of this conflict was to prevent the Eye of Terror from opening, and to hold on until reinforcements arrived.
Sor's voice broke into Hades's thoughts.
"My lord, I have maps of this sector, maps marked with the garrisoned regions of the Iron Warriors and the Word Bearers."
Sor clenched his teeth; they clicked together as he spoke.
"There is definitely something wrong with the Iron Warriors. I deliberately kept and collected their charts."
Hades raised an eyebrow.
"You did this on your own?"
Sor drew in a deep breath.
"Others helped. Other exiles."
He gave a bitter smile.
"We were thinking of passing the information outward."
Silence. A hand reached out and hauled him to his feet. Sor heard the groan of protest from his power armor.
Hades patted Sor on the shoulder plate. Sor turned his head and saw only unfathomable darkness.
"Well done," Hades said.
"You've earned a measure of my respect for the Word Bearers."
. . .
It turned out that even Ferrus understood the art of language.
Hades thought this as he sat in the command chamber, running Sor's maps through his calculations again and again. One piece of bad news was that Sor had told him the Iron Warriors seemed particularly attentive to worlds that possessed xenos-built structures.
Worst-case scenario, Hades thought. When he connected the worlds garrisoned by the Iron Warriors, even someone like him—who knew nothing of psychic arts—could see that the positions of these planets shared a certain pattern.
On the other side, Ferrus kept constant watch on the fleet's surroundings. Under the guidance of the Word Bearers reconnaissance detachment—successfully persuaded by Ferrus—the Iron Warriors were being led deeper into this sector.
Hades was puzzled by how Ferrus had managed to convince the Word Bearers, but regardless of how he did it, Ferrus had succeeded.
Perhaps he shouldn't have underestimated Ferrus, who often conversed with Fulgrim.
"Do we continue pushing inward?"
Ferrus's voice sounded amid the steady ticking of instruments.
"We're about to enter Iron Warriors territory. In three minutes, we can expect a communication request from them, or artillery fire."
Hades sat calmly at the command table, but Ferrus could hear the irritation in the sound of Hades tapping his fingers.
"The line to open the Eye of Terror is almost complete," Hades said.
"It's an extremely long line, and it lies deep behind the Iron Warriors' defensive perimeter. At present, only a few planets—and the anchor points, meaning the most critical one—are not yet marked as occupied."
Hades paused.
"Given that Sor's maps are somewhat outdated and incomplete, we don't have much time left."
Ferrus frowned.
"You're saying the Iron Hands need to penetrate Iron Warriors territory and stop that line from closing? We could strike at a weaker point."
Hades stopped. Ferrus could feel Hades's gaze burning into him.
"I'm afraid it's not that simple," Hades said softly, as if uncertain.
"I don't know how they're dealing with the blackstone obelisks. If they're choosing to destroy them outright, that means our only option is to go to the central anchor point and hold the final obelisk."
"But…"
Hades said hesitantly, "if what they chose was polarity inversion… then in theory, we should be able to interrupt the expansion of the Eye of Terror by seizing a segment of the battle line."
"Then what are you hesitating about, Hades?" Ferrus asked.
Hades took a deep breath.
"I don't understand psychic matters, so I asked my Archmagos, Korklan, to take a look. His response was that the line is about to close. Unless we can occupy at least one fifth of the defensive line in a very short time, a small break won't be enough to stop the Eye of Terror's final eruption."
The problem was that Hades didn't know whether Korklan was actually right.
As for where Korklan learned his psychic knowledge… the Archmagos had originally been a psyker researcher on Mars. What's more, Hades had only recently learned that after he left the Death Guard, Korklan had remained at Mortarion's side.
Which meant Korklan had calculated all of this for him using numerology.
First, Hades couldn't fully trust Mortarion's numerology. Second, aside from Mortarion, everyone else's numerology was even less trustworthy.
But Hades had no alternatives. He had also asked the Iron Hands' Librarius, and their answer had been that they were powerless.
"So," Ferrus said calmly, "what we need now is a blade to stab straight into their anchor point and ensure that the largest source never opens. Is that correct?"
"Yes," Hades said, looking at Ferrus and nodding.
"Then we fight." Ferrus said.
"Hades, I know what you're hesitating about. If things truly unfold as you say, we'll be facing two Legions, but you should trust that the Iron Hands are not weak."
The Iron Hands were the Legion that most thoroughly embraced social Darwinism.
"And daemonic hosts," Hades added.
Ferrus paused.
"Can the Silent Sisterhood handle them?"
Hades blinked. At last, he chose a word.
"Yes," Hades said.
He saw Ferrus's lips curve into a cold smile, iron-gray eyes beginning to burn with fury.
"If they truly betrayed us—if they abandoned the Imperium for the temptations of their own desires—then I will show them the wrath of steel. I have not spoken much with Russ, but steel is far colder than winter."
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