Uriel was about to answer that of course it was, when he was seized by a sudden memory of the frantic battle on bridge two-four. Sicarius smiled and Uriel saw how deftly he had been manoeuvred into this admission of guilt. Slowly he shook his head.
“No, it was not Captain Idaeus’ plan,” he said. “It was mine.”
Sicarius stepped back, arms raised at his sides.
“It was your plan,” he said triumphantly.
“But it worked, damn it,” roared Pasanius. “Don’t you see that? The bridge was destroyed and the campaign won!”
“Irrelevant,” responded Sicarius. “A victory is not a victory unless it is won with the principles of the primarch. We have all read of the Mortifactors in Captain Ventris’ after-action reports from Tarsis Ultra. We all see where the path of deviance from the Codex leads. Tell me, sergeant, would you have us become the Mortifactors?”
Pasanius shook his head. “No, of course not.”
“But you would have us follow their methods?”
“No, that’s not what I said,” growled Pasanius. “I just meant that whatever breaches of the Codex we made, they were only small.”
“Sergeant,” said Sicarius, as though speaking to a small child, “our faith in the Codex is a fortress, and no crack in a fortress can be accounted small. If we take small steps down their path, each tiny indiscretion becomes that little bit easier, doesn’t it? After a hundred such breaches of the Codex’s teachings, what matters another ten, or a hundred? That is why you must be punished, Captain Ventris, for where you tread, others follow. You are a captain of the Ultramarines and must comport yourself appropriately.”
Uriel glared as Sicarius climbed the steps back to his seat and the Master of the Forges, Fennias Maxim, descended to the courtyard. His leather-tough skin was the colour of aged oak and completely hairless. Dark, hooded eyes, one replaced with a blinking red metriculator augmetic, transfixed Uriel as Fennias circled them, his hands laced behind his back. A hissing servo-arm, folded into a recumbent position on his back, wheezed as it flexed in time with his breath and his heavy, metal legs thumped on the stonework of the courtyard.
“I have spoken to Techmarine Harkus,” he barked suddenly.
Uriel knew where Maxim was heading and said, “I ordered him to strip the Thunderhawk down to its bare bones. He was only obeying my orders and no blame should be attached to him for his actions on Tarsis Ultra.”
Maxim stepped close and lowered his thunderous face into Uriel’s.
“I know,” he hissed. “Did you think I would not know that?”
“No,” replied Uriel, “I merely wished to be clear on the subject.”
“Tell me why you desecrated such a holy machine, one that had seen honourable service for almost a millennium and had carried you into battle on occasions too numerous to count. How could you turn your back on such a noble spirit and treat it so cruelly?”
“I had no choice,” said Uriel simply.
“No choice?” scoffed Maxim. “I find that hard to believe.”
“I do not lie, Master,” said Uriel darkly. “To destroy one of the tyranid’s hive ships we had to get the planet’s defence lasers firing again, and the only way we could do it was to transport fresh energy capacitors to a site that had the best chance of killing it. The only craft available that stood any chance of reaching this site and making it back was the Thunderhawk. Even then I was forced to order the gunship stripped down to its minimum weight to ensure we would have enough fuel to get us there and back.”
“You angered its war-spirit. I have since ministered to it and great is its wrath. Were I you, I would not trust my life to it again until you have begged its forgiveness and performed the necessary rites of obeisance.”
Maxim turned his back on Uriel and returned to his seat as, one by one, each of the Chapter’s Masters came forward to highlight an example of Uriel’s disregard for the teachings of the Codex Astartes.
They knew everything from both the Pavonis and Tarsis Ultra campaigns, the events on the space hulk, Death of Virtue, and the battle with the dark eldar on the return leg of the journey.
His frustration grew as example after example of his recklessness was paraded before him. While he could not deny the veracity of these claims, he could refute with reason and proof of their merit, but as the day wore on, he saw that the Chapter Masters were not interested in his truth. He had deviated from the Codex Astartes, the most heinous crime imaginable, and nothing could atone for such a breach of trust and faith.
As the sun dipped below the tiled roof of Lord Calgar’s chambers, Uriel’s temper was fraying and he knew he was in danger of losing it completely. These men did not want truth; they wanted a scapegoat for the dead of Tarsis Ultra and to set an example to the rest of the Chapter that there was no other way than the Codex.
He wanted to scream in frustration, but pursed his lips and bit down on his anger.
Purple shadows lengthened on the floor of the courtyard. Evening moths gathered around the torches that were hung from the balconies.
Marneus Calgar stood and swept his gaze around the assembled Masters before striding into the centre of the courtyard to face Uriel and Pasanius. He stared into Uriel’s eyes and Uriel met his gaze unflinchingly. Whatever his fate, he would face it on his feet like the warrior he knew himself to be, and damn the consequences.
At last, Lord Calgar said, “It saddens me to see what has become of you both. I saw greatness within you and hoped that one day you might have taken your place amongst this Chapter’s mightiest heroes. But nothing in this life is set in stone and you stand before me accused of the darkest of crimes. Tomorrow you shall have your chance to refute your accusers and present your defence. Think well on what you wish to say. I urge you to spend this night in prayer. Look to the Emperor for guidance and remember your oaths of allegiance to this Chapter and all that once meant to you when next you stand before me.”
The first slivers of moonlight crested the roof as Uriel and Pasanius were led back to their cells.
The cell was dark and filled with a musty odour of damp and helplessness. A chain dangled from a ring set in the wall and water dripped from the ceiling to disappear down a crack in the stone floor.
“Do I need to chain you?” enquired one of the Terminators, his voice hissing through his helmet-vox.
“No,” said Uriel. “You have my word I will give you no trouble.”
The Terminator nodded as though he had expected as much and closed the cell’s door, bolting and locking it with thick chains and mechanical wards.
Uriel bunched his fists and paced the cell like a caged animal. He would not try to escape, but tomorrow, he would hurl every one of the accusations levelled at him back at those who stood in judgement over him. They had not witnessed the circumstances that had driven him to this point.
Where were they on the walls of Tarsis Ultra? Where were they when he had stood defiant before the might of an ancient star god and allowed its vile xeno taint into his mind? Where were they when he had almost died in their name? He knew he was reacting with his heart and not his head, but couldn’t help himself. The injustice of it all made him sick and he slumped on the floor of the cell, listening to the dripping water and framing what he would say.
Some hours later, as he lay sprawled on the cold, damp floor, Uriel heard the soft pad of footsteps approach. Furtive steps, like those of a man afraid of being discovered, drew near, and even through the thickness of the stone walls and iron door, Uriel’s enhanced hearing could tell that whoever was approaching his cell was a Space Marine.
He swivelled upright and sat with his back to the wall opposite the door. Keys rattled and the door swung inwards, a hooded figure blocking the light. The figure stepped into the cell and pulled back his hood.
“It is good to see you, Captain Ventris,” said a deep voice, rich with age and experience.
“Captain Agemman?” said Uriel, recognising the voice. Agemman was the Captain of the 1st C
ompany: the veterans, the best and bravest of the Chapter. Amongst his titles was Regent of Ultramar, the man to whom the Master of the Ultramarines entrusted the safety of Macragge in his absence. After the death of Captain Invictus, hero of the 1st Company who had died fighting the tyranids of Hive Fleet Behemoth, Agemman had taken on the role of rebuilding the destroyed company. Only now, two hundred and fifty years after its complete destruction, was it returned to full strength and the Banner of Macragge unfurled once more.
Agemman had been an inspiration to them all while training at Agiselus and all through their elevation to the ranks of the Adeptus Astartes at the Fortress of Hera. His noble bearing and courage of spirit were shining lights amid the darkness. What could he want with Uriel?
“Aye,” replied Agemman, holding out his hand. “Courage and honour.”
“Courage and honour,” said Uriel, accepting Agemman’s hand.
Agemman folded his arms within his robe and glanced around him in distaste at the bleakness of the cell.
“It is galling to see a warrior of such courage treated so,” he said.
“You pick a strange time to come and see me, captain. What are you doing here?”
“I come on behalf of Lord Calgar, Captain Ventris.”
“Lord Calgar? I do not understand—”
“I know all about you, Uriel,” interrupted Agemman. “I followed your progress all the way through Agiselus. I recognised your potential and I rejoiced when you were selected to come to the Fortress of Hera and become an Ultramarine. I gave thanks for the victory on Vorhn’s World and mourned with you after Black Bone Road. I know all of what you did while serving with the Deathwatch and I know why you will never speak of it.”
“Why are you telling me this?” asked Uriel, suddenly wary.
“So that you will know that I speak true, Uriel Ventris,” explained Agemman. “You stand accused of the gravest crime an Ultramarine can commit and your life hangs by the most slender of threads. You would do well to heed my words.”
Agemman closed the cell door.
“Much depends on it…”
Dawn broke clear and bright over the mountains, casting long shadows over the pale rocks and highland forests. A cool breeze blew down the length of the Valley of Laponis, and Uriel felt a curious lightheadedness as he marched up the smooth-worn steps carved into the rock that led to the chambers of Mameus Calgar. Despite the armed guards escorting them, his step was lighter and his heart unclouded by anger or resentment. He knew now what he had to do and, with the choice so clear before him, there was no more doubt or uncertainty.
He was saddened that Pasanius would be tarred with the same brush, but there was little he could do to prevent that now.
Captain Agemman had spoken simply and clearly for an hour and Uriel had been struck by his simple honesty and the force of his words. When he had finished, they had shaken hands in the warrior’s grip, wrist to wrist, and said their farewells. Agemman had wished him well and departed, no doubt to take the same message to Pasanius. As they climbed the stairs to their fate, one glance at Pasanius’ face told Uriel that he had accepted Agemman’s words and chosen the same path. Uriel was humbled by his comrade’s loyalty and managed a wan smile as they reached the esplanade at the top of the steps and approached the many-pillared portico that led to the chambers of Marneus Calgar.
They passed between the Terminator guards into the shadowed vestibule before emerging once more into the sunlit courtyard. Though they had been taken from their cells at first light, the Masters of the Chapter were already gathered, their ceremonial cloaks of office draped around their shoulders and laurels of judgement wreathing their skulls.
They took their place before the statue of Konor, facing Lord Calgar and standing at parade rest, with their arms ramrod straight at their sides. The armed warriors retreated from the courtyard and not a soul moved until the echoing clang of the bronze doors rang out.
Marneus Calgar stepped down into the courtyard to stand before Uriel and Pasanius. His augmetic eye burned a steady red, his features unreadable. Uriel knew that Calgar had sent Agemman to their cells last night and, though he knew it meant his undoing, could find no anger in his heart for this act, just a simple understanding of what it meant to be a true Ultramarine.
The Lord of the Ultramarines strode around the fountain, addressing the assembled Masters.
“Brother Ultramarines, today is a day of judgement. We have heard much that condemns these warriors in the eyes of our brethren, but we are men of honour and would not think of deciding their fate without first giving them a chance to refute these charges and answer the accusations against them.”
Calgar completed his circuit of the gurgling fountain and stood before Uriel, locking his gaze with him.
“Captain Ventris, you have the right to speak and defend yourself.”
Uriel took a deep breath and said, “I waive that right and accept the judgement of my lords upon me.”
A ripple of surprise rose from the masters and hurried glances were exchanged as Lord Calgar gave an imperceptible nod of his head to Uriel. Calgar then asked Pasanius the same question and received the same answer. Uriel saw Learchus’ face harden and knew it pained the sergeant to have brought this upon him, but Uriel now knew that Learchus had no choice but to do so. He nodded to Learchus in a gesture of peace and respect between them.
Uriel faced the Master of the Ultramarines as he spoke again to him. “You do not wish to give an account of yourself and enter a plea to your peers?”
“No,” said Uriel. “I willingly submit myself to your judgement.”
Lord Calgar turned from Uriel and ascended to his throne, arranging his cloak about him before addressing the assembled masters.
“These men have broken faith with the Codex Astartes, and by their own admission admit to abandoning its teachings,” began Calgar. “Their fate is now in my hands and on the morrow I shall render my verdict. We shall convene again at dawn tomorrow at Gallan’s Rock where judgement will be passed.”
Though he had known they were to be punished, Uriel felt his heart sink as Calgar spoke.
Gallan’s Rock was a place of execution.
The noise of Hera’s Falls was deafening. Torrents of water fell hundreds of metres to the jagged rocks below, cascading into a spume-covered pool of glacially cold water. The sharp white rocks glistened and sparkled with quartz, and emerald green highland fir grew right up to the edge of the cliffs. Sunlight crept over the mountaintops and bathed everything in the glow of molten gold. It was, thought Uriel, one of the most beautiful vistas he had been privileged to lay his eyes upon, as though nature, realising that this might well be the last thing he saw, had striven to produce the most wondrous vision for him to take into the next life.
He and Pasanius marched in silence after the Chapter’s Masters, their chains removed and armour stored in the 4th Company’s armorium. Both wore unadorned black chitons, their bare feet warmed by the sun-kissed earth.
No guards accompanied the sombre column. Though guilty, they were still Ultramarines and would meet their fate with courage and honour. The climb from the Fortress of Hera had taken two hours and they stood now before Gallan’s Rock, an angular slab of black marble that speared out from the valley side.
In ancient times, convicted criminals had been hurled to their deaths on the rocks below and it had been on this very spot that the sword of Roboute Guilliman had cut the head from the traitor king, Gallan, who had murdered his adopted father with an envenomed blade and attempted to take control of Macragge.
The Masters gathered at the edge of the cliff, a thin veil of water soaking their armour, and as he approached them, Uriel felt the fabric of his chiton cling to his skin as it became saturated.
Without any words being spoken, Uriel and Pasanius marched onto the rock and slowly inched their way towards the end. Uriel experienced a moment’s vertigo as he lost sight of the cliff edge in his peripheral vision. The black rock was slippery under
foot, but he supposed it didn’t much matter whether he fell now or not.
They reached the end of the rock and knelt, the stone hard and cold against their skin. Uriel looked over the edge, the drop dizzyingly high and the rocks below indelibly stained with the blood of the condemned. His own would soon join it and, strangely, the thought did not trouble him overmuch. Agemman had made it clear what was at stake and Uriel was Ultramarine enough to grasp the truth of his words and make the right decision.
He felt a hand grip his shoulder and glanced over at Pasanius. His friend and comrade in arms was stoic and stared across the valley, savouring the beauty of their surroundings.
“I regret nothing of what we have achieved,” said Pasanius. “We acted with courage and honour and no man can ask more of us than that.”
Uriel felt his chest tighten and nodded, too overcome with admiration for his friend to speak. He nodded as he heard footsteps behind him, bowing his head and closing his eyes as he awaited the push that would send him plummeting to his death.
He felt armoured gauntlets take hold of his chiton and heard the voice of Lord Calgar.
“A true judgement has been returned against you and the Codex Astartes has but one punishment for your crimes. Though you are warriors of courage and it pains me to lose such valiant fighters, I have no choice in my verdict. Just as we all are, I too am bound by the Codex and must obey its teachings in sentencing you to death.”
The grip on Uriel’s chiton tightened.
“There are many ways one can achieve death, many ways to meet your fate. To waste a life that may yet bring retribution to the enemies of the Emperor is a sin in and of itself. It is therefore my judgement that you be bound by a Death Oath, and take the light of the Emperor into that abominable region of space where many a true warrior has met his end—the Eye of Terror. I bind you to take your fire and steel into the dark places until such time as you meet your destiny.”
Uriel stood motionless in the torch-lit gatehouse as the Masters of the Chapter circled him. Fully clad in his armour, his golden-hilted sword sheathed at his side, he felt a lightness in his heart he had not felt in many months. Though to journey into the Eye of Terror, that region of space where the madness and corruption of the warp spilled into real space, was as certain a death sentence as if had they been pushed from Gallan’s Rock, Uriel knew that this was somehow right.
Legends of the Space Marines Page 24