Artefacts

Nick Kyme

At the edge of the Ghoul Stars, at thevery fringe of Segmentum Ultima, mybrother and I united on a mission ofmercy. We emerged from warp transitwreathed in tendrils of psychiccorposant that clung to the scarred hullsof our ships but we arrived too late.We had come to rein in a madman, yetcould only bear witness to an atrocity.

Fire crackled beneath the primarchswords, though Tkell found it hard todiscern if the dulcet sound came from hislords voice or the flaming torches on

the walls. Whatever the cause, the airwas filled with the reek of hot ash andcinder, carried along by Vulkans deepand rumbling baritone.

It wasnt much to see, though Im notsure if I expected it to be. So differentfrom our home world, one to the other asnight is to day Nocturne is a terribleplace to behold and, though I felt no fearas I emerged from my own capsule intothe burning dawn, I could appreciate itsferal majesty. Tall peaks of firemountains, long plains of ash and sun-baked deserts, the stink of sulphur fromthe oceans it was bracing, deadly.From the void, Nocturne is a deep redorb, a blazing iris of fire. His was a

dark, unremarkable world. It looked likea black marble, flawed by the grey smogof its polluted atmosphere. Vulkanscowled at the memory, as if he couldtaste those noxious fumes on his tongue.To be able to see it from orbit, thoseclouds must have been dense, but I amtold they hid a plethora of sin. Even so,it doesnt justify what he did. What wesaw him do.

A shadow passed across the primarch,the encumbent silence that followed thisdeclaration filled by the sound of hisheavy breath. Tkell realised the heinousact that Vulkan was describing had left amark deeper than any brand thoughwhether the perpetrator or the act itself

was the cause, he did not know.

Darkness veiled it, a curse met out byan ugly moon called Tenebor. Its namemeant shadow, an apt appellation.Here it was literal, for the moon cast ashroud of night over a world desperatelyin need of illumination. Before thatmoment, I hadnt ever seen his home.Now I never will, and I cannot say Imsorry. By every account Ive heard, itwas a wretched place, withoutpossibility of transformation.

It began as a starburst, noiseless flashesin the vastness of space. They came froma dark, dagger-like vessel his ownflagship. At first, I could not quite

reconcile what I was seeing with thedeed. Great beams of stabbing light andswarms of torpedoes hurtled down ontohis dark world. All attempts to hail hisship failed, of course. Our brother wasin the mood for vengeance, not reason.He wanted to smite it, he would declarelater, and expunge it of all sin in asingle, purifying and insane action. Thesurface erupted in a chain of stark,flaring blooms and for the first time inits long, benighted history the world sawlight. But it was the light of ending.

Vulkan paused, as if wanting to choosehis words carefully and recount what heremembered as clearly as he could.

You have to understand, my son,because this is the where the real horrorof it all lay there was precision in thatorbital bombardment. He wasnt justventing his wrath. He knew. Some flawin the tectonic structure, it doesnt matterhow or where, was targeted directly. Ihad thought we were witnessingpetulance, the immature act of animmature soul with tragic consequences.But it wasnt. What we saw waspremeditated.

And so it was the perpetrator and thedeed that had left the primarch sodisquieted. Tkell could not imaginehaving to accept the reality of that.Vulkan went on.

Cracks split the outer crust along faultlines, then spread, webbing in alldirections. Fire colonised the landscape,virulent as a plague, until the entiresurface of the world was burning. Thenit was no more. In one cataclysmicexplosion, its moon and every minorcelestial body in sight of this destructionwere gone.

Lowering his head, Vulkan took amoment to regain his composure. Whenhe looked up again his eyes blazed likethe fires he had just described, thephysical expression of anger he felttowards his brother for unleashingplanetary genocide.

Debris rained against us, strippingshields and battering the armour of ourvessels. We rode the shock waves thatemanated from the detonation butemerged scathed in ways that wentbeyond the dents and scrapes clawedinto the ships hull. An immenseexpulsion of heat faded and in its wakewas dust and floating rock.

Silence reigned for a while, until Horusconquered our collective sense ofdisbelief and gave us purpose. He wasincensed at what our brother had done.He was also determined to run himdown. I gave chase alongside, notknowing that Horus had tasked anotherprimarch to slip around undetected.

Between the three of us, we bracketedthe world-murderer with our ships.There could be no escape. I thoughtHorus might open fire and kill him forwhat he had done, but in fact he wasdetermined to redeem him. I wonder hadthere been one of us to do that later forHorus, would events have taken adifferent course now?

Again, Vulkan paused in his iteration, asif imagining a reality where that was true Horus the loyal son, instead of therebel.

It doesnt matter now. Nostramo died inthose moments and though none of uscould have realised it at the time, so did

any chance for Curzes redemption. It allbegan with him. I think it will probablyend that way too.

Tkell watched his primarch closely,being sure not to speak until Vulkan hadfinished. Around them, the atmosphere ofthe forge was soothing, the heat and thepenumbral darkness adding solemnity tothe primarchs words. Ash and the smellof warm metal were redolent on ashallow breeze, but the sound of hammerstrikes against the anvil was quiet fornow; the forges blacksmith had pausedin his crafting.

I cant fathom what must have beengoing through his mind, my lord. I have

seen destruction on such a scale before,but to turn your guns on your own worldwith the express purpose of destroyingit We are generationally set apart fromour sires, but at least I can understandyour motivations.

But not in this? asked Vulkan. Not inthe task I have asked of you?

Ill do my duty, primarch, Tkellanswered, somewhat defensively, asthough not wanting Vulkan to think hewas a poor son.

But you dont understand the reason.

Tkell confessed, I do not. Not for this.

Vulkan leaned back in his seat. It was asimple block of stone, carved from theface of the mountain, worn to theprimarchs shape by the many hours hehad spent sitting and toiling over theartefacts he wrought with his Emperor-given craft. One particularly magnificentspecimen was lying on his workbench,now finished. The hammer was a truework of art, and Tkell found his owncrafts humbled by the weapons beauty.

Vulkan saw him admiring it.

Do you know why my father made allhis sons different? he asked.

Tkell shook his head. His war-platewhirred and groaned in sympathy. He

had forged the armour himself, and itwas as finely artificed as any suit ofceramite and adamantium in the XVIIILegion. Usually, it was crowned with adrakes head helmet, but Tkell wouldnot dream of wearing that when inconference with his lord. The primarchalways insisted on meeting the gaze ofhis warriors and expected the same inreturn. He would have reprimanded theforge master if he had hidden his eyesbehind retinal lenses.

I cannot even pretend to understand thedepths of the Emperors design orcolossal intellect, Tkell said humbly.

Of course not, Vulkan replied without

condescension. I believe he did it aspart of his vision for the galaxy. ThoughI know my brother Ferrus woulddisagree, each of us has an importantrole to play. Guilliman is the politician,the statesman. Dorn, the keeper of myfathers house, and Russ is the dutifulwatchman that keeps us all honest.

Honest?

Vulkan smiled coldly. A joke that is nolonger funny.

And Curze? asked Tkell, his desirefor knowledge a symptom of his Martiantraining. What is he?

Vulkans faced darkened.

Necessary. Or so we all believedonce.

Mars was the reason for Vulkans returnto Nocturne and his brief reunion withhis forge master. Resupply from theMechanicum had been sparse and theprimarch forced to deviate part of hisfleets course to the one munitions storehe could rely on his own home world.The fact that Tkell was stationed thereon the fortress-moon of Prometheus onlymade it more timely.

And Horus, and you? Tkell pressed,his eagerness to understand interferingwith his sense of propriety.

Vulkan indulged him. Horus was the

best of us. Although, in our fathers eyes,we were equals. I always felt like achild in his presence. Unless youve methim, it is hard to describe but my brotherhad this way about him, an undeniablecharisma that made you listen to hisevery word and then believe it withoutquestion. Back then, none of us thoughtanything but absolute loyalty lay in hisheart, otherwise we might have realisedjust how dangerous his persuasive auracould be.

His role was leader and once I wouldhave followed him to whatever end andfor any purpose. But that pedestal hasfallen, and there will be no righting it.As for me Vulkan laughed

humourlessly, spreading his arms toencompass the forge and the vaultbeyond. I am my fathers weapon-maker, but unlike Ferrus or Perturabo, Ispecialise in the unique.

Tkells gaze strayed to the immensevault door that dominated the back wallof the chamber as he recalled the manynames and forms of the artefacts within.

Like the hammer? Tkell said,gesturing to the workbench.

Vulkan turned to regard it, lost for amoment as he ran his hand acrossDawnbringers head, the haft bound infiredrake hide, the gemstones and theesoteric device he had fashioned into its

pommel.

It is the single finest thing I have everwrought, he told the forge master, but itwas never meant for me. I forged it formy brother, for Horus, and that is anotherreason for the task I must set for you.

Vulkan left it alone, but did not avert hisgaze from the hammer.

It was after Nostramo, after Ullanor.My gift to him to commemorate hisachievement. With Jaghatais help wehad captured Curze and brought him toheel. You have to understand, my son,nothing like this had ever happenedbefore. For a primarch to act in the wayCurze had, to do what he had done

The primarch shook his head.

It was unconscionable. Yet, my brotherhad a solution.

Remake him, Horus said proudly, andwith enough enthusiasm and vigour tomake the Lord of Drakes look up fromhis brooding.

Horus looked resplendent in his armour,a muscular sheath of pale ivory and jetblack. It was a suit so fine that even thegreat blacksmiter had to admit his envyof it.

He and Vulkan were alone in Horussquarters on board the Vengeful Spirit,sitting in companionable silence when

the primarch of the Luna Wolves spoke.They shared a drink together, a headybroth native to Cthonia Vulkan did notknow its name, but appreciated it for itsheat and potency.

He swilled the mixture around the cup,looking into the tiny maelstrom he hadmade, as if the answer he sought mightbe waiting for him somewhere within itsdepths.

Vulkan looked up, his eyes glowing asthey always did in the dark confines ofHoruss private chambers. Tell me how,brother, for no one more than I wishesthat to be.

We can rehabilitate our brother.

At first even Horuss rhetoric could notsway him, and Vulkan looked more aloofthan ever, concealed by the shadows.The first primarchs quarters werefunctional but well-appointed, evenopulent. A fire raged in an ouslite hearth,a concession Vulkan felt sure Horus hadmade to make his guest morecomfortable. Instead, the Lord of Drakeseschewed the light and heat of the fire,wondering why he hadnt disabusedhimself of this conference as Jaghataihad, though his gaze occasionallystrayed to the flames.

After this, said Vulkan, angrily jabbinga finger towards the empty darkness andimagining the swathe of atmospheric

dust that used to be Nostramo. How?

Horus smiled in a way that suggested healready knew this would work, and hadbut to convince Vulkan of it.

Each of us shall take him under ourwing, nurture him. He gestured with hishands, miming the next part, Mould himinto the weapon he needs to be, not thejagged implement he is right now.

Vulkan frowned, thinking of themidnight-clad prisoner they held,doubting the sagacity of his brotherssuggestion.

Think of it like this, said Horus, hisoptimism unwavering. You are a

weapon maker, the weapon maker. Curzeis but an untempered blade that requiresits edge honing. Remake him, as youwould remake a broken sword, Vulkan.

There was a vibrancy to his eyes asHorus made his pitch, his certainty forhis wayward brothers resurgencebecoming infectious.

I believed him, said Vulkan, leavingthe past behind. Curze was to beseparated from the bulk of his Legion, inthe hope that free of Nostramosmalign influence he could change. Iwould take him first, then Dorn oncehe was healed.

Healed?

Vulkans expression turned rueful. Hiseyes met the forge masters. Curze hadtried to kill Rogal.

Tkell cursed under his breath at thisadmission.

The Praetorian of Terra?

I know of no other, said Vulkan. ForHoruss plan to work, it was vital thatthe relationship between Dorn and Curzebe repaired. But after Kharaatan I knewwe had erred. I dont know whom Horushad planned to put Curze with next, butwe didnt get that far. The demands ofthe Great Crusade and his new positionas Warmaster kept Horus in a distantorbit. I couldnt attend the Triumph at

Ullanor, so I had not seen him in personsince Nostramo. Years had passedwithout word between us, but I knew Imust disturb him for this. I had seen whatwas within Curzes heart. It wasnightmarish and broken. I pitied mybrother, hated his deeds but not him, andfeared what he would do or become ifallowed to continue.

Horus and I met across a lithocastprojection. I had already spoken toDorn, who had returned to Terra by thatpoint, and we were of the same mind.Foolishly, I thought Horus would be too.His initial greeting was warm enough, ifa little more prickly than I had onceknown.

Brother Vulkan, what matter of greatimport do you come to me with thatwarrants my time and the disruption ofour fathers Crusade?

The Warmaster stood amongst warriorson the bridge of his flagship, an array ofsensorium and auguries suggested alongthe edges of the hololith. He woredifferent battleplate to their last meetingaboard the Vengeful Spirit, repainted inthe deep sea green of his newly renamedLegion.

The Sons of Horus.

The undertone of condescension washard to miss, Vulkan said to Tkell. Ihave no doubt it was deliberate.

I apologise, brother, for taking youaway from your duties, but I believe thismatter is dire enough that it must come toyour attention.

Horuss eyes widened and Vulkan couldnot deny the sense that his brother wasmocking him.

It must? Well, then you had best speakof it, Vulkan, so I can gauge for myselfjust how dire the matter is.

It was more than just the Warmasterstone that worried Vulkan somethingdeeper, implied rather than overtlyexpressed. Though little of the ship wasdiscernible behind Horus in the hololith,there was enough to suggest that it had

been changed. Markings that had notbeen there before, strange symbolsVulkan did not know the meaning orsignificance of, were partly visible. Atfirst, he considered they might be lodgesigils, as it was Horus who hadinstigated these traditions within theLegions. Vulkan had eschewed them,despite his brothers overtures, suchbonding rituals redundant in the face ofthe Drakes own Promethean Creed.

But what he saw did not seem entirelyrelated to lodge culture. There wassomething else, something inscrutable

It was as if another being were wearingmy brothers skin, Vulkan explained.

Yet even that skin, with all its usualtrappings, was a darker version of whatI knew.

You believed him changed? askedTkell.

It was more than that. I recounted whathad happened on Kharaatan Curzesmania, his suicidal, nihilistic tendencies.Despite the strange mood I had foundhim in, I expected Horus to be appalled.

Vulkan paused, his jaw hardening at thememory.

But he laughed, he said, frowningincredulously. I was angry andconfused.

I see nothing amusing in this, brother,Vulkan said, wondering what hadhappened to the noble warrior he hadonce so admired. We have failed.

Horuss mirth turned to serious intensity.On the contrary. You have succeeded.

I do not see how.

Curze cannot be tamed. His is anecessary evil, a monster to help us winthis long war and keep our hands clean.

How are they clean? They are taintedjust as his, perhaps not with murder, butwith complacency in the full knowledgeof Curzes homicidal pathology.

Horus leaned in, his face filling thegrainy hololith.

Every general needs a weapon of terror,an instrument to threaten the hardiest ofhis enemies with. You have sharpenedours well, Vulkan. From what youvetold me, Curze has turned fear into ablade that I can wield.

This is no weapon we should harness.His mind is broken, Horus. He needshelp.

Hes had help. Yours. And I am gratefulfor it. He leaned back again. If there isnothing further?

I saw something in Horus, Vulkan said

to Tkell. Something that stopped mefrom replying. It made me withhold thegift I had made for him. It made merealise that my pleas would forever fallon deaf ears. It has also driven me to mydecision about the vault. Some weaponsare simply too dangerous, in the wronghands.

Despite everything he had heard, Tkellstill pleaded.

You are not the leader of a rebellionagainst the Emperor. It is not your armythat we go to censure on Isstvan. You arenot Horus.

Vulkans eyes strayed to the vault. Whyis it so important to you that we do not

destroy them?

Because they are your work and legacy.Destroy them and the galaxy will neversee their like again.

And would that be such a terrible thing,my son? As weapon maker, I haveforged an arsenal that could causeunimaginable death and suffering. That isnot a legacy I want.

Then why fashion them in the firstplace?

Vulkan leaned forward so he could placehis hand on Tkells shoulder. Thegesture dwarfed the forge master, butwas paternal and reassuring.

Because it was my purpose, the one myfather made me perform, and back then Idid not believe any of us were the wronghands. Through Curze and Horus, I nowsadly know different. One maniac in ourmidst, a tragic error of nurture overnature that I can understand and accept.Horus is rational. Not only that, he is thevery best of us. I would freely admit thatit terrifies me to think of him wilfullyinciting rebellion. He is an enemy Iwould not wish to fight on any level, notleast of which because he is my brother.And should my craft, what lies beyondthose vault doors, be taken by Horus Icannot be responsible for that, Tkell.

Vulkan rose to his feet to declare the

matter closed, taking up the hammerDawnbringer as he did so.

Come. Ill show you what must bedone.

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

It was immense, as was the vault itself,and Vulkan used an icon he hadfashioned as part of his armour to unlockit. The small fuller slipped into a recesswrought into the doors ornate surface. Itwas difficult to see, and Tkell realisedhe would not have found it without theprimarch to show him.

One twist and the cavernous space wasfilled with the dull clunk of gears,pulleys and chains the sound of an oldmechanism churning to life. After a fewseconds the door began to open, slowlybut inexorably. It split down the middle,each half opening outwards and into theforge.

When the gap was wide enough, Vulkanstepped through and led Tkell into thevault after him.

As he passed through this slender portal,Tkell marvelled at how thick the doorswere, at the sheer incredible artifice oftheir construction. Despite theirostensible function, they were as

beauteous as any of Vulkans creations.Had Ferrus Manus made these doorsthey would be cold, ugly things.Impervious, secure, but ultimately bland.

Where the Lord of Iron was a smith,Vulkan was an artisan, or so Tkellbelieved.

You are the first and only one of mysons to see this vault, said Vulkan.Held safe within its walls is everyartefact I have ever forged.

Muttering a word of command, Vulkanignited the braziers around the room.Flickering torchlight cast the contents ofthe vault in tones of umber and crimson,filling every recess with shadow. Only

hints of the wonders that the primarchhad fashioned were revealed.

Tkell recognised some, and knew theirnames.

Obsidian Chariot.

Vermillion Sphere.

Light of Unmaking.

Some were constructed as simpleblades; others were larger, morecomplex 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 wouldgive pause to one who held theFangblade of Ignarak. Such thingsmattered to the Lord of Drakes and werea part of his teachings.

Such wonders breathed Tkell,scarcely able to comprehend hisprimarchs magnificent labours.

Vulkan had set the hammer Dawnbringerdown amongst the other treasures andwas about to reach for his spear whenwe stopped, fingers poised to wraparound the haft. Sword and spear werehis preferred weapons, Thunderheadhaving been destroyed earlier during theGreat Crusade.

I hope your indecision represents achange of heart, primarch, venturedTkell when he had recovered hiscomposure enough to speak.

It does not. The artefacts must bedestroyed. I am bound for Isstvan socannot do it myself, which is why youmust, Tkell.

Then what is wrong, primarch?

Leaving the spear where it stoodshackled to the rack, Vulkan took upDawnbringer.

I believed I had chosen poorly, althoughthis feels right, he said. Fitting.Perhaps its epithet will see my brother

illuminated after all.

Tkell looked on despairingly at theartefacts, desperate to preserve them andhis lords legacy.

Primarch, I beseech you, he uttered,bowing to one knee. Please do not askme 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 candestroy worlds, my son

Or save them from destruction, Tkellreplied, looking up at his lord, in theright hands.

Mine? asked Vulkan, meeting the forgemasters pleading gaze.

Yes! Or Lord Dorn, or Guilliman. EvenRuss!

Vulkan held Tkells gaze a momentlonger before turning away.

Rise, forge master. I would not haveone of my sons beg me on his knees.There was a snarl in Vulkans voice andfor an instant Tkell thought he mighthave overstepped.

I am driven to it, primarch.

Very well.

My lord?

Vulkan faced him.

I said, very well. Something shouldremain. If I destroy everything, then Ihave given up on hope and seeing loyaltyand honour endure in my brothers. Iwont do that.

Tkell visibly relaxed, the relief at hisprimarchs words evident on his face.

You are to remain here, Tkell. Youwont come to the Isstvan system yourplace is now on Nocturne andPrometheus.

But, primarch

Do not defy me a second time, Vulkanwarned. I am not that tolerant.

Tkell bowed his head in contrition.

You shall become Forgefather, andkeeper of the artefacts in this vault.

Forgefather? asked Tkell, frowning.Am I not your forge master, my lord?

Of course. A legionary can be morethan one thing, Tkell. I am entrustingyou with this duty, just as I entrusted youwith the vault.

What duty, primarch? Name it, and itshall be done.

To act as custodian. To swear you willprotect these artefacts and shouldanything happen to me, ensure they arewell hidden, far from those who wouldseek to use them poorly.

Tkell saluted vehemently. I swear it,Lord Vulkan.

Good. Choose seven to remain, andonly seven. One for each of our realmson Nocturne.

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

Indeed there are, said Vulkan, tying thehammer off around his belt and reachingfor his gauntlet. Kesares drake scale

mantle was already hung around hisbroad shoulders. Seven, Forgefather,that is what your primarch decrees.Vulkan was leaving, his mind now firmlyon a reckoning with Horus.

I go to join with Ferruss fleet, hecalled back to Tkell. See it is donebefore I return.

He walked away bound for thespaceport, leaving Tkell behind.

The Forgefather regarded the contents ofthe vault, trying to contemplate theimpossible task before him.

Seven

ABOUT the AUTHOR

Nick Kyme is the author of the HorusHeresy novels Deathfire and VulkanLives, the novellas Promethean Sun andScorched Earth, and the audio dramaCensure. His novella Feat of Iron was aNew York Times bestseller in the HorusHeresy collection, The Primarchs. Nickis well known for his popularSalamanders novels, including Rebirth,the Space Marine Battles novel Damnos,and numerous short stories. He has alsowritten fiction set in the world ofWarhammer, most notably the Time ofLegends novel The Great Betrayal. Helives and works in Nottingham, and has

a rabbit.

Captain Artellus Numeon of theSalamanders seeks to return Vulkansbody to Nocturne, hounded at every turnby those who would seek to claim aportion of his destiny for their own.

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

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