Chapter 38 - Father and Son
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Kellen fell into brief thought.
From what he knew of how things would play out, Archmagos Cawl would stay beneath the Blackstone Spire running his research while the Imperial defenders held the line on the surface above.
Staying topside for a grinding positional battle was tempting. But the risk would spike hard.
The funny part was that the danger wouldn't come from the Chaos traitors across the line. It would come from the Imperium's own Astartes.
Cadia had become a convergence point for dozens of Chapters, and the Dark Angels were right at the top of that list. These green-armored "Unforgivable" had the hunt for the Fallen burned into their bones like a compulsion they couldn't switch off. One wrong encounter in the mud, one extra look at the unmarked Mark IV Maximus Power Armour on Kullen's back, and they'd be killing their own before anyone could blink.
Catching a Dark Angels veteran with no Chapter markings wasn't the scary part. The scary part was what came next. Pull up the radish and you bring up the roots.
Follow the thread far enough, and who was the giant bald man standing next to him, the one who'd just punched a Daemon Prince apart with his bare hands?
Oh.
The arch-traitor Warmaster. Horus Lupercal.
And that was just the Dark Angels. If word of Horus spread any further, the Blood Angels and every Successor Chapter that shared their blood would only need to catch a whiff of him. The Black Rage, the grief and fury of Sanguinius's death aboard the Vengeful Spirit, ten thousand years old and still raw, would detonate across every one of them at once. In that state, not even Saint Celestine could stop them from tearing the Wolf Shepherd apart with their bare hands.
The prerequisite was that they could actually beat a Primarch. And Horus almost certainly had no desire to kill his nephews. Which meant the whole thing would turn into a mess that helped no one.
Premature exposure was not an option.
Cawl taking them underground was exactly the shelter they needed right now.
But before Kellen could say anything, Kullen spoke first.
"Archmagos, do you have other Imperial forces on your end? Astartes Chapters, for instance."
The Archmagos didn't answer immediately. Instead, he studied the old warrior standing before him, clad in brand-new Mark IV Maximus Power Armour, not a single Chapter marking anywhere on it.
"No. They will be fighting on the surface." A pause. "Might I ask which Chapter you belong to?"
Kullen had nothing to say to that. He couldn't tell the Archmagos he was a Fallen. Not this man. Not anyone.
Even if Cawl was on their side. Even if he was someone who had helped the Wolf Shepherd.
The Dark Angels' ancient secrets could not leave the Legion. Kullen had been branded a traitor. He would carry that mark to his grave before he let those secrets out.
Kellen stepped in.
"Everyone has their own secrets to keep, Archmagos. Please don't press the matter. This warrior serves the will of the Master of Mankind. He is Lupercal's bodyguard."
The words of a mortal only carried so much weight.
Kellen tilted his head almost casually, letting his gaze drift sideways toward the Living Saint.
The meaning was plain enough: your turn, official representative of the divine.
Saint Celestine understood. She stepped forward and told the Archmagos, simply and clearly, that this Astartes was a man the Emperor of Mankind had personally designated as trustworthy.
Cawl did not press further.
"Thank you. I owe you another one." The First Legion veteran's gratitude came out barely above a murmur, quiet as a mosquito's wing.
"Don't start with that." Kellen grinned at him. "When you were blocking bolter fire for me back in the mud, you were protecting me too, weren't you?"
The old knight didn't answer. He turned his head away. Something moved through his eyes that didn't have a name.
Then Kellen turned and met Horus's gaze. The Warmaster had been watching him, waiting. After all the days they'd spent together, words had become almost unnecessary between them.
Kellen gave a small nod, barely visible. Horus caught it.
"Of course, Archmagos. We will protect you while you complete your research on the Blackstone Spire."
"It would be the honor of my life, Lord Lupercal."
The Archmagos bowed.
No time was wasted. The group moved out immediately, following Cawl toward the Blackstone Spire. Saint Celestine split off midway, she had a front line to reach and Imperial defenders to bolster. The two parties went their separate ways without ceremony.
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The three of them reached the research station beneath the Blackstone Spire before long.
Horus stood with his hands clasped behind his back, taking in the space. Within these enclosed walls, away from prying eyes, the Wolf Shepherd let the careful restraint drop and struck up a conversation with Cawl on his own terms.
The Archmagos was more than willing. There was something almost eager about it, he had finally found someone from his own era to talk to. He'd been born in the later years of the Great Crusade, had never once laid eyes on Horus in person, but he knew exactly who this Primarch was. Everyone in the Imperium had, back then.
The two of them fell into it quickly, trading logic and knowledge back and forth, each one finding the other's mind worth the effort.
None of which was remotely accessible to Kellen or Kullen. Listening to it was like being slowly put to sleep. The two of them ended up standing on the platform together, watching the servitors install detection equipment on the Blackstone Spire, letting the time pass.
Then Kullen spoke.
"Kellen. You said earlier that Abaddon would kill Horus. Is that actually true?"
"An Astartes killing his gene-father." Kellen shrugged. "I can't picture it either. My read is that Abaddon would take Horus alive and hand him over to whatever filth rules the Warp, to pick up where the rebellion left off ten thousand years ago."
Kellen rolled his eyes.
"Abaddon killed a cloned copy of Horus without blinking. You think he'd hesitate when the real one is standing right in front of him?"
"Abaddon. The Great Despoiler. Warmaster of Chaos. He has a reputation that spans ten millennia and a Black Legion to back it up."
"He's not the First Captain of the Luna Wolves anymore, Kullen. He's not the son of Horus's Legion. He is the Warmaster of Chaos. He will not allow Horus to exist and take everything from him, because that is exactly the kind of man Abaddon is — someone who fights for power and does not give it back."
"He spent ten thousand years building what he has. He is not handing it over. Not even to Horus. Not even to his own gene-father."
Kellen stretched, rolling his shoulders, and added in a tone that was almost bored.
"Kullen, you should really sit in on a political theory lecture with the Ultramarines sometime. You're a ten-thousand-year veteran. How do you not see something this straightforward?"
Kullen shot him a look that could have stripped paint.
"In the Legion, I had one duty. Fighting. I obeyed the Lion and the Emperor of Mankind. That was all."
"Legion diplomacy was mostly handled by the Lion's foster father." A beat. "Luther. And Corswain, when it came to that."
The name Luther landed quietly. Kullen's voice dropped a fraction when he said it.
As for Kellen knowing the name at all, Kullen had stopped being surprised by that. This mortal seemed to know everything. And he was smart enough to keep it to himself.
"Luther." Kellen made a small sound. "Another heavyweight. The Lion's feelings toward him are complicated in ways that aren't so different from what Abaddon feels toward Horus right now."
"Though Abaddon runs hotter. If he found out Horus was alive today, I don't think it would just be politics driving him. There's something personal in it too."
Kellen tilted his head, turning it over.
"Why do you say that?"
"Remember everything I told you about the rebellion? The details of it?" Kellen looked at him. "Did you catch how the corrupted Horus felt about the Emperor? What was underneath all of it?"
Then his gaze dropped to Horus, standing below them.
"The Warmaster was afraid of facing the Emperor again. In his memory, the Emperor was something vast and terrible — a force of majesty that left him without footing, no matter how powerful he became. Even those perfect thirty years couldn't fully undo it. That time made Horus feel safe. It also made him feel afraid."
"It's like a young son and his father. To a son, the father is an invincible giant. Perfect. Unassailable."
"Then the son grows up. The father grows old. And the son starts to see the cracks — the flaws, the failures, the places where the giant isn't so giant after all."
"The son keeps growing. The father keeps shrinking."
"And eventually the image breaks. The son gets bold. He mocks the old man. He challenges him. He tells himself he's stronger now, that the father is nothing compared to what he's become." Kellen paused. "I think that's Abaddon. It makes sense, doesn't it? He was one of Horus's most beloved sons."
A quiet laugh.
"The son takes after the father."
"Back then, it was Horus who challenged the Emperor. So now, it's Abaddon's turn to challenge Horus."
➤ Next: The Attitude and Resolve to Willingly Become a Tool
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