The Returned - James Swallow Read online

  ‘You?’ said Tarikus. He sniffed the air, scenting the greasy tang of spent mind-power. ‘You cast a veil over me… All of it illusions and game-play.’

  ‘Aye,’ Thryn replied, rough-voiced. ‘And you almost tore the breath from me in the process.’

  Tarikus advanced towards the psyker, his hands contracting into fists. Anger burned in his eyes, and the question of Thryn being clad in armour and himself not didn’t cross his thoughts. ‘I should beat an apology from you, witch-kin.’

  ‘You should be thanking me,’ Thryn retorted. ‘At last, I finally saw into you. Saw what you hid from us.’

  ‘I hid nothing,’ Tarikus spat.

  Thryn shook his head. ‘Don’t lie to me, not now. You hid your fear, Tarikus. The black and terrible fear that came upon you in the darkest moments of your confinement, when just for a moment, you wondered what would happen if you weakened.’ The Librarian gave a crooked, unlovely smile. ‘How very human of you.’

  Gradually, Tarikus’s fists relaxed. ‘I looked into the darkness, across the edge of the abyss,’ he said slowly. ‘And I turned away.’

  Thryn nodded. ‘Indeed you did. And now I have the answer I wanted.’ He offered his hand to the other Doom Eagle. ‘Your integrity is assured. You are returned to us, brother. In body, mind… and in soul.’

  Tarikus shook his hand in the old fashion, palm to wrist. ‘I never left,’ he said.

  ‘When will there be an end to this?’ grated Korica. He glared at Zurus, and the other warrior nodded slightly.

  ‘I have no answer for you,’ admitted the sergeant. He looked away, his gaze crossing the towering black marble fascias of the memorial towers, each reaching up and away towards the ornate ceiling far overhead. He saw something moving; a travel platform, dropping towards them.

  Mykilus saw it too, and he pointed. ‘Look there.’

  Petius took a tentative step towards the edge of the gantryway, then halted. Like all of them, he was unsure of what meaning lay behind the urgent summons that had brought them to the relical.

  In the next moment, the platform had arrived and a figure in duty robes stepped off, pushing past them.

  ‘Tarikus?’ Zurus could not keep the amazement from his voice. He had truly believed that he would never see the errant Astartes again. Thryn was not known for his lenience in matters of judgement. Then his thoughts caught up with him and Zurus allowed himself a small smile. He had been right about his lost brother; suddenly, all the doubts he had harboured about this duty and his part in Tarikus’s ordeal were swept away, and it was as if a great weight fell from his shoulders.

  Korica extended his augmetic arm towards Tarikus, but the veteran pushed past him, not slowing. The other Doom Eagles followed Tarikus down the length of the gantryway until he halted before a particular memorial slab.

  Zurus knew what would come next the instant before it happened. The veteran’s fist shot out and punched through the bubble of glassaic at the end of the panel and then folded around the death-remnant inside.

  He watched the other warrior draw out a blood-streaked hand, and in it, a battle-worn combat blade. Tarikus looked down at the knife, and then up at them for the first time. His steady, clear-eyed gaze crossed each one of them in turn, ending with Zurus. The veteran opened his mouth to speak – and then thought better of it. Instead, Tarikus acted.

  With a slow, steady draw of blade point over stone, he etched a heavy line through his own name, erasing the record of his death. He reclaimed his life. Mykilus was the first to speak. ‘Welcome back, sir.’ He bowed his head. ‘If we had only known that the Red Corsairs had not killed you–’

  ‘No.’ Tarikus held up his hand. ‘You will not speak of that again. And by my order, you will not carry any guilt over what happened.’ He stepped forward and moved from brother to brother, tapping each on the shoulder in turn. ‘I hold no malice. You did no wrong that day.’

  Then he was looking at Zurus. The Doom Eagle sighed, and made a decision of his own. He reached beneath his robes and his hand returned with a fetter of black and silver links pooled in the palm; it was the honour-chain that signified his command of the battle squad. He offered it. ‘This also belongs to you, I believe.’

  Tarikus showed quiet surprise. ‘The squad is yours, brother. You have made it so. These men are your men.’

  Zurus shook his head. ‘No. It has been my honour to lead them into battle in the name of the Emperor and Aquila, but I have never been their commander, not in the manner you were. I have only been… the caretaker of that post. You have seniority over me, the laurel and the honours. It is your right to reclaim your prior status.’

  The veteran came closer, his brow furrowing. ‘You are sure you wish to step down, Zurus? I know my brothers would not have followed you if you had not been worthy of it.’ He nodded at the chain.

  Zurus pressed the links into Tarikus’s hand. ‘I will not take that which by right is yours.’ He stepped away. ‘I will find another place in the Chapter.’

  ‘You already have a place, sir,’ said Korica. He glanced at Tarikus, and the veteran sergeant nodded.

  ‘Aye,’ said the other Doom Eagle. ‘I have need of good men, who see clearly and fight well.’ Tarikus held up the honour chain. ‘I will accept this on condition that you remain in the squad as my second.’

  Zurus thought on the offer, then nodded. ‘That seems a fair bargain.’

  Tarikus was silent for a long moment; then he wrapped the chain about the hilt of the knife and put it into his belt. ‘Come, then, kinsmen. The enemy tasks me.’ He gestured up towards the distant roof, where glimmers of constant storm-light flickered. ‘I have been dead long enough.’

  Zurus followed his commander’s gaze upward to where the rain fell, steady and ceaseless as the Emperor’s wrath.

  About the Author

  James Swallow is the author of the Blood Angels and Sisters of Battle series and the New York Times bestselling Horus Heresy novels Nemesis and Fear to Tread.

  This short story collection focuses entirely on the Space Marines and their evil counterparts, the Traitor Marines, telling high-action tales of heroism and savagery.

  A Black Library Publication

  First published in Great Britain in 2010, in the Legends of the Space Marines anthology.

  This eBook edition published in 2011 by Black Library, Games Workshop Ltd, Willow Road, Nottingham, NG7 2WS, UK.

  Produced by Games Workshop in Nottingham.

  The Returned © Copyright Games Workshop Limited 2011. The Returned, GW, Games Workshop, Black Library, The Horus Heresy, The Horus Heresy Eye logo, Space Marine, 40K, Warhammer, Warhammer 40,000, the ‘Aquila’ Double-headed Eagle logo, and all associated logos, illustrations, images, names, creatures, races, vehicles, locations, weapons, characters, and the distinctive likenesses thereof, are either ® or TM, and/or © Games Workshop Limited, variably registered around the world.

  All Rights Reserved.

  A CIP record for this book is available from the British Library.

  ISBN: 978-1-78251-339-1

  This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.

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