Warhammer 40K - [Blood Angels 02] - Deus Sanguinius by James Swallow (Undead) (v1.0) by me

Author:me
Format: epub

allegiance to the Emperor and embracing Chaos, or it would end with their bones joining those of

their brethren already perished in Sabien’s crypt-yards.

The dream.

At first it had been a minor irritation, some piece of his past life impinging on the changes that fate had wrought upon him. It came in those moments when he was at rest, the brief periods of repose now less and less necessary as the wonders of his new body revealed themselves to him. In the beginning, it was only when Arkio slept that the dream came to him—but now, as the Blood Crusade took its first steps, the apparition had begun to infiltrate his waking moments. Whenever his mind began to drift from the matters at hand, it was there. Arkio knelt before the vast frieze of Sanguinius in the grand chamber, the majestic face looking down upon him, mirroring his own in its lines of jaw and chin, in the nobility of mouth and eye. His silver-white wings moved of their own accord, gently unfolding in a whisper of sound, the tips of them drooping to pool around the golden shoulders of his artificer armour like a cloak of snow. At rest there on the altar of red Baalite sandstone was the sanctified metal cylinder that held the Holy Lance. Arkio opened the case so the honey-coloured light from the ancient weapon could be free to illuminate him. As he laid eyes on the Spear of Telesto, so once again Arkio felt the hum of unchained power in his veins. The preternatural potency of the Blood Angel bloodline ran strong in him.

Arkio bowed his head; none of the Chaplains in their black armour and skull-mask helmets had dared to approach him when he entered, and without any spoken orders from him, they had sealed the chamber closed. He could not see them, but he knew they had gathered at the far end of the cathedral’s aisle, watching him in awe-struck silence. Arkio made the sign of the aquila, the reflexive gesture soothing him.

“Pure One, hear me. Grant me guidance. I am your vessel and your messenger. I will know the way of Sanguinius so I will make it my own. Grant me understanding of this vision that haunts me…”

Arkio closed his eyes and let the dream unfold in his mind. For days now as the Bellus raced through the warp, he had been holding it back, resisting the pull of it. The touch of the empyrean seemed to nurture it and strengthen its influence. It begins on Baal, as it ever does. At the head of a throng of men and Space Marines a million

souls strong, Arkio marches towards the gates of the fortress-monastery. At his shoulders are

Astartes in armour all shades of crimson—not just Blood Angels, but warriors from the Flesh

Tearers Chapter, the Blood Drinkers, the Angels Vermilion and more. There are men in the black of

the Death Company, their greaves crossed with the red saltires that mark them as fallen to the rage,

but they walk with him as tranquil as their battle-brothers at rest.

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