by C. S. Goto
In other words, the issue for the Imperium of Man is to whom it awards the right to be right, so that the responsibility for good decisions lies with those most able to make them. It can be no accident, then, that our greatest leaders have all been powerful psykers—our forefather the Emperor himself and our own Great Father Azariah Vidya. In these examples we must see the model for the designation of responsibility.
To be responsible is to understand. And I wonder whether Gabriel can truly grasp the significance of his decisions, whether they are tactically sound or not. He is rash and instinctual—yesterday he screamed through the battle at the pumping station like a man possessed, not even noticing the damage that he himself had sustained. He is dismissive of those who might know more about this place—including of Brom and even myself. He is obsessed with responsibility, even at the expense of knowledge. He may have been tactically right about Magna Bonum today, but only coincidentally.
I see the psychic scar of Cyrene in his manner. But he does not see the connections between our homeworld and this ork-infested planet. Yesterday afternoon I heard them whispered by the shadows of the forest itself, as though Tartarus is aware of its place in the galaxy and of the way that the Blood Ravens sow these distances together.
Today my curators unearthed some interesting material on the history of this mysterious planet. It seems that a number of Blood Ravens have been here before, long ago, before the official records of the planet began. One of them, the distinguished Librarian Prothius, served in the Deathwatch on a mission here. As an initiate of our Ordo Psykana, he dutifully recorded his findings in our great librarium, but it also seems likely that reports would have been filed with the Ordo Xenos. I have requested a transcription scribe from the Psykana to produce a copy of his report; it should arrive shortly.
Given this information, I would not be surprised to see an Inquisitorial presence here in due time—they too must have records of what unfolded here all those centuries ago.
In transfixed and horrified disbelief, Gabriel turned a few more pages.
* * *
We all fear what we do not understand, such is the bane of the Blood Ravens and the converse of our thirst for knowledge. But the real question concerns how we respond to that fear—whether we seek to hide away from it, seeking to immerse ourselves in false certainties, or whether we embrace the fear and use it to fuel our quest for more questions and more doubts. It is only in the fires of uncertainty that our souls can be cleansed and bettered.
And yet Gabriel destroyed the ancient altar that we found in the pit. Perhaps he could not see its value, or perhaps he feared its tainted and blood-soaked nature. But it could not have been hidden to him that I perceived its importance. Indeed, I asked him for more time to study it, and I was denied. It does me no credit to say so, but it is almost as though he sought to deprive me of that which he knew he could not understand. This is not the spirit of scholarship that we might expect from the valiant captain. It seems that Prathios was right when he decided not to push Gabriel into the tortuous path of the Librarian, over a hundred years ago—such an attitude would sit even more poorly in the mind of a Librarian. To be more cynical, might it be that Gabriel has something to hide here?
I saw the eldar runes interlaced with the crude cultists’ etchings on the altar, and I even removed the ancient symbol of Treraum, or “storm”, but Gabriel did not want to hear of it. Even after I had led him to the base of Mount Korath, he still doubted my wisdom and my tactical sense. I could hear the psychic echoes of his hostility and doubt like whispers in my mind. But I knew that the eldar menhir awaited us, and my resolve was firm. It was not until the cursed eldar themselves appeared in the Pass of Korath that Gabriel was finally forced to concede the truth of my knowledge.
Perhaps, had he listened before, Corallis would not be so seriously wounded. As a result, he has found himself unable to thwart my investigation of the menhir, much as he would like to destroy it and move on. He has promised me more time for this artefact, but I can feel that he has done so to make peace with me, not because he believes in the pursuit of knowledge. In other words, he has surrendered to my will out of weakness, out of fear of my knowledge, fear of my displeasure, and perhaps even fear about a dereliction of duty, which makes me lose still more respect for him.
I had never thought that it would come to this.
I dare not tell him of the power of this place, nor of the way that it whispers its secrets into my mind, picking me out from amongst our company as the one most able to understand. He will not understand—he cannot understand, for it was not he that was chosen. And through his lack of understanding, he will destroy our chance of appropriating this great power for the Blood Ravens. Even the unearthly voices form the depths of Tartarus understand his inadequacies; there is no need for him to know.
* * *
Closing the book carefully, Gabriel pushed his chair back away from the table and turned to face Prathios, who had remained unmoving in the shadows of the small chamber. Despite himself, the Chaplain found himself taking half a step back as he met the intensity of his captain’s eyes.
“When did you know of all this, Chaplain?”
“Librarian Akios did not share the details with me, captain, and I have not read them all. I read enough to know that the tome should come to you, and I brought it to you as soon as that became clear.”
“I’m not sure that is an answer to my question.”
“Isador came to me as we entered the Tartarus system to express some concerns about your… emotional well-being,” answered Prathios, choosing his words delicately. “He was concerned that you were not at peace with the events of Cyrene, and wondered whether I had also noticed anything of this nature.”
“And?”
“Captain?”
“And had you noticed anything of this nature?”
There was a slight pause, in which Prathios realised that this was not the time for circumspection. “Yes, captain, I had.”
“I see,” replied Gabriel flatly, clearly aware that he had confessed enough to the Chaplain to make this observation obvious. “And when did Isador entrust you with this record?”
“Shortly before we moved on the Temple of Dannan, captain. But I had neither an opportunity nor a reason to open it until… until after the Tartaran campaign was concluded.”
“I understand, Prathios. Thank you. You may leave, and you may now trust that I will take the appropriate measures with this report. It is in my hands now, as it should be, and it is my responsibility.”
With that, Gabriel turned away from the Chaplain and returned to the book at the desk. He sat quietly without opening the cover until Prathios realised that the captain was waiting for him to leave. So dismissed, he bowed slightly and then walked crisply out of the room.
The report that I have been awaiting from the Litany of Fury arrived today. It makes interesting reading. I refer you to the Omnis Arcanum LS archive 38.999/CX324.99i for the full text, in which the complete records of Psykana Librarian Prothius can be read. Even all those millennia ago, it seems that the Librarians of the Blood Ravens were meticulous in their record keeping, which is something of which we should be proud.
I am pleased to be able to report that the account of the honourable Prothius confirms my interpretation of the eldar text on the menhir that we discovered on the summit of Korath (which Gabriel generously consented not to destroy until after I had inspected it), as well as my intuitions about the powers that pulse through this place.
It appears that Prothius was here on Tartarus as one of his duties during his third secondment to the revered Deathwatch. He reports that the Inquisition was fully aware of the blood-drenched history of the planet, and that the kill-team’s mission had been timed to coincide with the presence of an eldar force, which the Ordo Xenos knew would be on Tartarus every three thousand years in order to do battle with a greater cyclic-daemon. It seems that two of our Blood Ravens were chosen for this mission, presumably be
cause the eldar in question were Biel Tan. (It seems that there are those in the Ordo Xenos who are not without knowledge of the Blood Ravens, after all.) In addition to Prothius, the famed Captain Trythos was seconded to lead the mission.
It is with some regret that I note the fall of the Dreadnought Trythos during the battle for Lloovre Man, although my regret is coloured by the account by Prothius, as I will explain.>>
Prothius does not record the source of the Inquisition’s knowledge about the details of the Biel Tan’s preparations for this encounter, but we may surmise them ourselves from other sources.
I would like to make a note of concern about our contacts in the Inquisition: Inquisitor Toth reported to Gabriel and myself today that Trythos was the first ever Blood Raven to serve in the Deathwatch. He made no mention of Prothius, whom we know had served twice before the mission in 999.M38. From this we might surmise three things: first, that the inquisitor is simply poorly informed, since the integrity and meticulous exactitude of our own records cannot be doubted; second, that the inquisitor has been properly informed but that he is deliberately attempting to deceive us; and third, that the report of the good Captain Trythos (on which Toth must be basing his knowledge) deliberately excluded the contribution made by Prothius, perhaps because of a disdain for Librarians that seems to retain echoes in parts of our Chapter to this day. Trythos was not himself a Librarian, and hence the imperative and ability to produce perfect records would have been absent from his mind.
The second option demands a further question: why would Toth seek to deceive us? Unfortunately, I do not have enough information to answer this question, but I might posit two possibilities: the first is that the inquisitor is aware of the perfect records of our Librarium Sanatorium (perhaps even of our Ordo Psykana itself) and that he is seeking to obscure the role of our Librarians in this affair in the hope that we will not check these archives and thus discover the truth. Unfortunately, this explanation gives Toth both too much credit (for knowledge) and not enough (for intelligence). However, it occurs to me that this thesis reflects the pervasive and primitive fear of Librarians that I have also perceived in the manner of our own good captain recently. Perhaps this character-atrophy is not limited to our Chapter, but rather has become a characteristic of the Imperium at large? This convinces me further that action is required.
And the second explanation is even more sinister, since it suggests that there are forces at work in the Inquisition that are deliberately attempting to sabotage the Blood Ravens Third Company. This ties in with the fact that rumours of the Cyrene incident had somehow reached Colonel Brom before our arrival. Whatever the explanation, I advise that the Chapter Masters should be informed that our contacts in the Ordo Xenos must be re-screened, perhaps through the use of false information. We should start with the Order of the Lost Rosetta.>>
Gabriel furrowed his brow and ran his hand across the scar on his cheek, trying to make sense of Isador’s reasoning. It lacked the rigorous logic that he had come to expect of a Blood Ravens Librarian, and it seemed to be run through with paranoia about the status of the Chapter and, in particular, of Librarians themselves. Isador’s mind appeared to be full of fears and doubts, as though his thoughts had been contaminated with some kind of slow-acting poison. For the first time, Gabriel realised that it might have been Isador rather than himself who had been affected by the destruction of Cyrene.
Isador also made occasional mention of voices whispering truths into his mind, and Gabriel knew enough of the ways of Librarians to know that this was not normal even for them. It was slowly dawning on him that his old friend had probably been going mad. Perhaps the insidious power of the Maledictum had been attempting to seduce him since their arrival on Tartarus, just as the entrapped daemon had been working its slow, seeping sorcery on the whole population of the planet for millennia.
Was this what Isador meant when he said that there were connections with Cyrene? It had been clear there that the minds of psykers were much more sensitive to corruption than those without such abilities, although the psychic citizens of Cyrene were nascent, not honed like Isador. Nonetheless, Gabriel saw once again the wisdom of seeking to divorce psychic potentialities from command structures in the Chapter—with great power comes tremendous risk. Vidya had been the exception that proved the rule, not a model to be followed unquestioningly. And none could hope to emulate the syncretic glories of the Emperor himself, not even the Great Father. At the end of the day, it was merely a human will that had to keep even magnificent powers under control. And every human will had its breaking point. Even some of the primarchs were broken during the Heresy, after all.
Were the whispers that sang symphonies into his own mind those of the daemon that had addressed him as its herald only days before? Were there elements of truth lurking in the rantings of Isador?
The honourable Prothius had made a study of the so-called “Fall” of the Cyclopean Primarch from scholarship and psychic discipline into the forbidden and dark arts of sorcery. His commentary is fascinating, incisive and original, and I would recommend it as reading for all initiates of our Librarium Sanatorium.
It seems that the purpose of his commentary was to explain his actions on Tartarus but, more broadly, it provides an eloquent defence and justification of the scholarly nature of our Chapter. As appears to be happening today, it appears that the efficacy and trustworthiness of psykers and their research into the invisible or hidden realms was under the closest scrutiny at that time. Prothius was not blind to the irony of the Imperium’s twin need and disdain for powerful psykers and the mysterious, unearthly knowledge that underlied their powers. Indeed, it seems that his commentary was inspired by his Deathwatch mission on Tartarus, during which an Inquisitorial representative of the Emperor’s Ordo Xenos commanded him to recover a fragment of the eldar’s Wailing Doom for research and use as a potentially powerful weapon in the arsenal of the Imperium. Of course, such missions are amongst the most important and interesting tasks of the Deathwatch, which must be why the Blood Ravens have been honoured by secondment into their sacred ranks so often.
When I consider the attitudes of Inquisitor Toth and Captain Angelos on our present mission, I am struck by their lack of vision and understanding. They do not appear to understand the potential value of recovering the Maledictum for ourselves. Rather they seem to seek to destroy it. They are the lesser sons of Inquisitor Jhordine and Captain Trythos. And it seems that I am destined to play the role of the heir of Prothius, even against the blindness of my battle-brothers if necessary.
Lest the deeds that I am planning here be misunderstood as betrayal, I would like to present an interpretation of Prothius’ commentary as the parameters of my own behaviour. Then, before I move in pursuit of truth, knowledge and power (as it is my duty and my calling to do) I will entrust this account into the care of Chaplain Prathios so that the Blood Ravens will understand my actions, even if they no longer have the vision to accept them. I pray to the Great Father and to the Emperor of Man that Gabriel does not stand in my way and that he will honour my deeds as a Blood Raven should. If he does not, then all is lost for our once magnificent brethren.
Prothius provides a wholly persuasive commentary on the formulation of the Edicts of Nikaea, which still delimit the freedoms of Librarians to this day. He demonstrates persuasively that they were the result of the cowardice of the psychically impotent, making reference to certain cerebrally-stunted figures. Indeed, Prothius located a copy of the “Grimoire Hereticus” in which it is stated very clearly that a number of Librarians at what he calls the “Hearing of the Thousands” attempted to storm from the hall, horrified that such a reactionary and misguided debate was taking place. Other records unearthed by Prothius, such as the epic ballad “Prospero’s Lament” imply there had always been a certain atmosphere of jealousy and distrust towards the psychically gifted, even amongst the sons of the Emperor himself. The psychically blind feared what they could not understand, just as they do today.<
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Prothius himself recovered the forbidden “Tome of Mordance”, which was allegedly penned by the Sorcerer Lord Mordant Hex. It was rumoured to have been found abandoned in the Etiamnun Reclusium, after the hermits of that quiet world had been slaughtered by a force of Space Marines who were in search of a hidden webway portal that might have led to the great halls of learning of the Black Library. In this tortuous text, it is written that even the Cyclopean Primarch had never lost faith in the Emperor, but rather that he was hounded and driven from his father’s side by the scheming jealousies of his lesser brothers.
Thus it was that the weak-minded and the fools sowed the seeds of distrust in psychic powers that persist to this day, and they turned the Imperium against these glories simply out of ignorance, fear and jealousy. Had the Emperor but placed his faith in superior knowledge rather than brute force, the galaxy may have been saved from the horrors of the wars that followed. Knowledge is power, but even at the time of the Emperor himself those with knowledge and power were viewed with suspicion by lesser men. So it is with me today. Gabriel resents my superiority, and he seeks to prevent my ascension to levels that he can never understand. Having no way to know whether these heights are sacred or heretical, his fear drives him to obstruct me. His inadequacies haunt him like the souls of those he slaughtered on Cyrene.
In other words, it is the fear of the unknown rather than the love of knowledge that is to be eradicated and controlled. This is why Azariah Vidya should be the model for the Blood Ravens—like Magnus (even more than the Emperor himself, since he finally bowed to the pressure of ignorant fools), Vidya personified the unity of knowledge and power. As it was for him, so it should be now: the Librarians should command the Blood Ravens—it should be me, not Gabriel, who takes responsibility for our actions. Gabriel is a blind fool whose weak mind has been addled by responsibilities that it can neither understand nor hope to comprehend.