Uriel now felt sure that there was more to this quest than he had initially thought. He knew he should not have been surprised to learn that the Heart of Blood was more than just an artefact, that the schemes of daemons were never straightforward. Were he and Pasanius part of some elaborate vengeance the Omphalos Daemonium had planned for its ancient rival? Who knew, but Uriel vowed that he would not allow himself to be used in such a way. Dark designs were afoot and a confluence of events had come together to bring them to this point. Despite the dangers around him, he felt on some instinctual level that the will of the Emperor was working through him.
Why then did he feel so empty, so hollow?
Uriel had read of the many saints of the Imperium and had heard numerous sermons delivered with impassioned oratory from the pulpit of how the Emperor's power was like a fire within that burned hotter than the brightest star. But Uriel felt no such fire, no light burned within his breast and he had never felt so alone.
Sermons always spoke of heroes as shining examples of virtue: pure of heart, untainted by doubt and unsullied by self aggrandisement.
Given such qualifications, he knew he was no hero, he was outcast, denied even the name of his Chapter and cast within the Eye of Terror with renegades and traitors. Where was the bright light of the Emperor within him here?
He shifted his position, trying to get comfortable on the hard rockcrete floor so that he might be rested enough to press on to the fortress. He knew that the chances of their surviving the journey to the fortress of Honsou were minimal, but perhaps there was some way to entice these renegades to join them. In all likelihood they would all die, but who would miss such worthless specimens as them anyway?
As he turned over, he caught sight of a silhouetted Space Marine in the doorway and pushed himself into a sitting position as Ardaric Vaanes entered and sat resting his back on the wall opposite Uriel.
Thin light spilled in through the doorway, a fine mist of dust floating in the air where Vaanes's footsteps had disturbed them. The two Space Marines sat in silence for long minutes.
'Why are you here, Ventris?' said Vaanes, eventually.
'I told you. We are here to destroy the daemonculaba.'
Vaanes nodded. 'Aye, you said that, but there's more isn't there?'
'What do you mean?'
'I saw the way you and your sergeant looked at one another when Seraphys mentioned the Heart of Blood. That name has some meaning for you doesn't it?'
'Perhaps it does. What of it?'
'Like I said, I think you bring trouble with you, but I can't decide whether it is trouble I want to be part of yet.'
'Should I trust you, Vaanes?'
'Probably not,' admitted Vaanes with a smile. 'And another thing. I noticed that you very deliberately shied away from explaining why the Omphalos Daemonium went to such lengths to bring you here.'
'It is a daemon creature, who can say what its motives were?' said Uriel, reluctant to reveal the pact, even a false pact, he had made with the Omphalos Daemonium.
'How convenient,' said Vaanes, dryly. 'But I still want an answer.'
'I have none to give you.'
'Very well, keep your secrets, Ventris, but I want you gone once you have rested.'
Uriel pushed himself to his feet and crossed the room to crouch beside Vaanes.
'I know that you have no reason to, but trust me. I know we are all here on the Emperor's business - too much is happening to be mere accident. Come with us, we could use your help. Your men fight well and together we can regain our honour.'
'Regain our honour?' said Vaanes. 'I had no honour to lose, why do you think I am here and not with the battle-brothers of my Chapter?'
'I don't know,' replied Uriel. 'Why? Tell me.'
Vaanes shook his head. 'No. You and I are not friends enough to share such shames. Suffice to say, we will not go with you. It is a suicide mission.'
'Do you speak for everyone here?' demanded Uriel.
'More or less.'
'And you would turn your back on a brother Space Marine in need of your strength?'
'Yes,' said Vaanes. 'I would.'
Suddenly angry, Uriel rose and snapped, 'I should have expected no less from a damned renegade.'
'Don't forget,' laughed Vaanes, getting to his feet and turning to leave, 'that you too are a renegade.'
'You're no longer one of the Emperor's soldiers and it's time you realised that.'
Uriel opened his mouth to reply, but said nothing as he remembered a line from the last sermon he had heard Chaplain Clausel deliver outside the Temple of Correction.
Softly he whispered that line as Vaanes left the room, 'He must put a white cloak upon his soul, that he might climb down into the filth to fight, yet may he die a saint.'
Uriel awoke with a snarl, startled and disorientated. He had not been aware of falling asleep, an awareness of his surroundings giving him a strange sense of dislocation as he blinked away sleep. He pushed himself upright, repeating a prayer of thanks for a new day and feeling his mind focus and sharpen as the Catalepsean node of his brain reawakened his full cognitive functions.
Allowing a Space Marine to sleep and remain awake at the same time by influencing the circadian rhythms of sleep and his body's response to sleep deprivation, the Catalepsean node ''switched off'' areas of the brain sequentially. Such a process did not replace normal sleep entirely, but allowed a Space Marine to continue to perceive his environment whilst resting.
He ran a hand across his scalp and left the shadowed room, catching the mouth-watering scent of hot food. He entered the blockhouse's main chamber, the same lifeless light spilling in through the firing slits and groups of Space Marines gathered around a cookfire upon which bubbled a large pot of a thick gruel-like porridge. It looked like poor food at best, but right now it was as desirable as the tenderest morsel of roast boar.
Several figures lay sprawled around the chamber, Space Marines resting and Leonid and Ellard asleep beneath the firing slit, using their rifles as pillows.
'I'd say "good morning", but that's not really a term I can use on this world,' said Ardaric Vaanes, spooning some porridge into a crude bowl of beaten metal and handing it to Uriel. 'It's not much, just some stolen ration packs made to go a long way.'
'It's fine. Thank you,' said Uriel, accepting the bowl and sitting next to Pasanius, who nodded a greeting as he scooped the greyish food into his mouth. 'Aren't you worried about the smoke of the fire being seen?'
'On Medrengard? No, rising smoke isn't anything unusual on this planet.'
'No, I suppose it isn't,' said Uriel between mouthfuls. The porridge was thin and he could taste watered down nutrients, the gruel barely enough to stave off starvation, let alone provide any nourishment. But still, it had more taste than the recycled paste his armour provided him.
'Have you thought any more about what I asked before?' said Uriel, finishing the bowl of porridge and setting it down beside him.
'I have,' nodded Vaanes.
'And?'
'You intrigue me, Ventris. There is more to you than meets the eye, but I'm damned if I know what. You say you are here to fulfil a death oath, and I believe you. But there is something else you are not telling me and I fear it will be the death of us all.'
'You're right,' said Uriel, seeing that he had no choice but to tell these renegades the truth. 'There is more and I will tell you all of it. Gather your warriors together outside and I will speak to you all.'
Vaanes narrowed his eyes, wary at letting Uriel speak directly to his men, but realising that he could not refuse. 'Very well. Let's hear what you have to say.'
Uriel nodded and followed Vaanes and his men into the still air and burning glare of the black sun. Space Marines filed out of the blockhouse and descended from their posts in the peaks surrounding the bunker complex as they were called down. Yawning and blinking, Leonid and Ellard stepped into the brightness of the valley, cradling their lasguns over their shoulders.