Artefacts - Nick Kyme Read online

  Despite everything he had heard, T’kell still pleaded.

  ‘You are not the leader of a rebellion against the Emperor. It is not your army that we go to censure on Isstvan. You are not Horus.’

  Vulkan’s eyes strayed to the vault. ‘Why is it so important to you that we do not destroy them?’

  ‘Because they are your work and legacy. Destroy them and the galaxy will never see their like again.’

  ‘And would that be such a terrible thing, my son? As weapon maker, I have forged an arsenal that could cause unimaginable death and suffering. That is not a legacy I want.’

  ‘Then why fashion them in the first place?’

  Vulkan leaned forward so he could place his hand on T’kell’s shoulder. The gesture dwarfed the forge master, but was paternal and reassuring.

  ‘Because it was my purpose, the one my father made me perform, and back then I did not believe any of us were the wrong hands. Through Curze and Horus, I now sadly know different. One maniac in our midst, a tragic error of nurture over nature that I can understand and accept. Horus is rational. Not only that, he is the very best of us. I would freely admit that it terrifies me to think of him wilfully inciting rebellion. He is an enemy I would not wish to fight on any level, not least of which because he is my brother. And should my craft, what lies beyond those vault doors, be taken by Horus… I cannot be responsible for that, T’kell.’

  Vulkan rose to his feet to declare the matter closed, taking up the hammer Dawnbringer as he did so.

  ‘Come. I’ll show you what must be done.’

  Together they crossed the smoke-thronged forge, their armour reflecting the lambent firelight, until they reached the door of the vault.

  It was immense, as was the vault itself, and Vulkan used an icon he had fashioned as part of his armour to unlock it. The small fuller slipped into a recess wrought into the door’s ornate surface. It was difficult to see, and T’kell realised he would not have found it without the primarch to show him.

  One twist and the cavernous space was filled with the dull clunk of gears, pulleys and chains – the sound of an old mechanism churning to life. After a few seconds the door began to open, slowly but inexorably. It split down the middle, each half opening outwards and into the forge.

  When the gap was wide enough, Vulkan stepped through and led T’kell into the vault after him.

  As he passed through this slender portal, T’kell marvelled at how thick the doors were, at the sheer incredible artifice of their construction. Despite their ostensible function, they were as beauteous as any of Vulkan’s creations. Had Ferrus Manus made these doors they would be cold, ugly things. Impervious, secure, but ultimately bland.

  Where the Lord of Iron was a smith, Vulkan was an artisan, or so T’kell believed.

  ‘You are the first and only one of my sons to see this vault,’ said Vulkan. ‘Held safe within its walls is every artefact I have ever forged.’

  Muttering a word of command, Vulkan ignited the braziers around the room. Flickering torchlight cast the contents of the vault in tones of umber and crimson, filling every recess with shadow. Only hints of the wonders that the primarch had fashioned were revealed.

  T’kell recognised some, and knew their names.

  Obsidian Chariot.

  Vermillion Sphere.

  Light of Unmaking.

  Some were constructed as simple blades; others were larger, more complex mechanisms. All were named.

  Names had power, as Vulkan often said. To name a thing was to give it identity, resonance. An enemy does not fear a man who wields a sword, but would give pause to one who held the Fangblade of Ignarak. Such things mattered to the Lord of Drakes and were a part of his teachings.

  ‘Such wonders…’ breathed T’kell, scarcely able to comprehend his primarch’s magnificent labours.

  Vulkan had set the hammer Dawnbringer down amongst the other treasures and was about to reach for his spear when we stopped, fingers poised to wrap around the haft. Sword and spear were his preferred weapons, Thunderhead having been destroyed earlier during the Great Crusade.

  ‘I hope your indecision represents a change of heart, primarch,’ ventured T’kell when he had recovered his composure enough to speak.

  ‘It does not. The artefacts must be destroyed. I am bound for Isstvan so cannot do it myself, which is why you must, T’kell.’

  ‘Then what is wrong, primarch?’

  Leaving the spear where it stood shackled to the rack, Vulkan took up Dawnbringer.

  ‘I believed I had chosen poorly, although this feels right,’ he said. ‘Fitting. Perhaps its epithet will see my brother illuminated after all.’

  T’kell looked on despairingly at the artefacts, desperate to preserve them and his lord’s legacy.

  ‘Primarch, I beseech you,’ he uttered, bowing to one knee. ‘Please do not ask me to do this. At least save something.’

  Vulkan looked down at his forge master, then to the inside of the vault.

  ‘There are weapons here that can destroy worlds, my son…’

  ‘Or save them from destruction,’ T’kell replied, looking up at his lord, ‘in the right hands.’

  ‘Mine?’ asked Vulkan, meeting the forge master’s pleading gaze.

  ‘Yes! Or Lord Dorn, or Guilliman. Even Russ!’

  Vulkan held T’kell’s gaze a moment longer before turning away.

  ‘Rise, forge master. I would not have one of my sons beg me on his knees.’ There was a snarl in Vulkan’s voice and for an instant T’kell thought he might have overstepped.

  ‘I am driven to it, primarch.’

  ‘Very well.’

  ‘My lord?’

  Vulkan faced him.

  ‘I said, very well. Something should remain. If I destroy everything, then I have given up on hope and seeing loyalty and honour endure in my brothers. I won’t do that.’

  T’kell visibly relaxed, the relief at his primarch’s words evident on his face.

  ‘You are to remain here, T’kell. You won’t come to the Isstvan system – your place is now on Nocturne and Prometheus.’

  ‘But, primarch–’

  ‘Do not defy me a second time,’ Vulkan warned. ‘I am not that tolerant.’

  T’kell bowed his head in contrition.

  ‘You shall become Forgefather, and keeper of the artefacts in this vault.’

  ‘Forgefather?’ asked T’kell, frowning. ‘Am I not your forge master, my lord?’

  ‘Of course. A legionary can be more than one thing, T’kell. I am entrusting you with this duty, just as I entrusted you with the vault.’

  ‘What duty, primarch? Name it, and it shall be done.’

  ‘To act as custodian. To swear you will protect these artefacts and should anything happen to me, ensure they are well hidden, far from those who would seek to use them poorly.’

  T’kell saluted vehemently. ‘I swear it, Lord Vulkan.’

  ‘Good. Choose seven to remain, and only seven. One for each of our realms on Nocturne.’

  ‘There are thousands in here, primarch. How can I possibly–’

  ‘Indeed there are,’ said Vulkan, tying the hammer off around his belt and reaching for his gauntlet. Kesare’s drake scale mantle was already hung around his broad shoulders. ‘Seven, Forgefather, that is what your primarch decrees.’ Vulkan was leaving, his mind now firmly on a reckoning with Horus.

  ‘I go to join with Ferrus’s fleet,’ he called back to T’kell. ‘See it is done before I return.’

  He walked away bound for the spaceport, leaving T’kell behind.

  The Forgefather regarded the contents of the vault, trying to contemplate the impossible task before him.

  ‘Seven…’

  ABOUT the AUTHOR

  Nick Kyme is the author of the Horus Heresy novels Deathfire and Vulka
n Lives, the novellas Promethean Sun and Scorched Earth, and the audio drama Censure. His novella Feat of Iron was a New York Times bestseller in the Horus Heresy collection, The Primarchs. Nick is well known for his popular Salamanders novels, including Rebirth, the Space Marine Battles novel Damnos, and numerous short stories. He has also written fiction set in the world of Warhammer, most notably the Time of Legends novel The Great Betrayal. He lives and works in Nottingham, and has a rabbit.

  Captain Artellus Numeon of the Salamanders seeks to return Vulkan’s body to Nocturne, hounded at every turn by those who would seek to claim a portion of his destiny for their own.

  A BLACK LIBRARY PUBLICATION

  First published in Great Britain in 2015 by Black Library, Games Workshop Ltd, Willow Road, Nottingham, NG7 2WS UK.

  Produced by the Games Workshop Design Studio.

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  ISBN 978-1-78251-585-2

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