Ahriman: Exile by John French Page A

false powers, a renegade to his own oaths.’
    ‘And what are we, brother?’ said Astraeos. And what should I have done, brother? The question flicked through his mind, silent and unspoken. He gave me life, and I must repay that gift the only way I can. We are nothing without the oaths we swear. We are the last of a brotherhood all but destroyed because others broke their word while we kept ours.
    ‘We broke no oaths,’ said Kadin, and Astraeos could see anger in his brother’s eye.
    ‘And we will not now,’ said Astraeos, but there was no fire in his voice. His broad head had started to dip, and his shoulders slumped. Blood streaked his arm and leg. He looked like a wounded bear, its strength leaking from it as the wolf circled.
    ‘He is an outcast,’ said Kadin.
    ‘Are we so different?’ Astraeos tried to cut as he spoke but the blow was too slow and Kadin was already pivoting past the point to slice at Astraeos’s unwounded arm. Astraeos suddenly pivoted and cut low, the false fatigue vanishing from him in an eyeblink. The flat of Astraeos’s sword scythed Kadin’s legs from under him. Kadin fell, and felt the point of Astraeos’s sword prick his chest before he could rise.
    ‘The decision is mine,’ said Astraeos. Kadin nodded once and Astraeos looked up to where Thidias watched from the chamber’s edge. ‘Ahriman has our oath, and that binds us.’ But to what end, Ahriman? What do you flee and what are you hurrying to find?
    ‘And if he proves unworthy to bear our loyalty?’ said Kadin, but Astraeos had turned his back, and stalked to where his bronze armour hung from brackets on the wall. In the glow of the fire cages he could see where the emblems and honours had been ground from the dull surface.
    ‘This council is over, the blades have spoken,’ said Astraeos, as he hung the sword on the wall and took down the first plate of his armour.
    ‘What of the one who took our eyes?’ asked Kadin, rising from the floor. Astraeos put his hand to his right eye socket, felt the silver and black that held the pale crystal of his new eye. He thought of Maroth curled on the floor, blind, weeping blood. How could a Space Marine become such a broken creature? Maroth was no longer a human, no longer a warrior; he was a mewling creature too vicious and spiteful even to pity.
    ‘Ahriman holds the strings of his life,’ said Astraeos. Thidias glanced at Kadin but both remained silent. Astraeos did not look at them.
    In truth he agreed with them. He knew nothing of Ahriman besides his power and that other renegades hunted him. Oaths did not require trust, though. That was a truth the Imperium had taught him. He began to armour himself, locking plates together, building a second skin of metal over his flesh. Once he would have had serfs to aid him, but they belonged to a past long dead. They were silent while the only sound was the scrape of ceramic and metal. Astraeos finally straightened, bronze-plated once again, and began to walk to the chamber’s sealed doors.
    ‘Where are we going?’ said Kadin from behind him.
    I do not know, brother. I do not know where our oath will lead us. The thought formed in his mind but he left it unspoken as he walked from the chamber.
    The throne chamber was silent and stank of decay and ashes. The candles had long burned to pools of fat, and the only light came from a cracked glow-globe held by a hunched servitor that stood just behind Ahriman. Gzrel’s corpse lay slumped across his throne. A grey fungus had sprouted from his flesh and armour, reducing him to a formless heap. A carpet of fine white stalks had spread across the other bodies. Ahriman thought he saw the long strands twitch and sway as the light fell on them.
    Ahriman’s eyes lingered for a moment on the pile of soft ash at the floor’s centre. It still lay as it had fallen, the outline of a human form in grey powder. He thought of Tolbek and for a second he closed his eyes.
    The guilt and anger had begun as