Terran Crusade - Strange Alliances: Furious battle spread like wildfire through the outer corridors and Imperial structures of the Blackstone Fortress. Meanwhile, deep within the fortress' hidden core, eldritch energies flickered into life. Unseen by the warring armies, a band of figures slipped from a Webway portal that had lain at the fortress' heart since the dawn of its existence millions of Terran years before. They moved swiftly and silently, a lithe procession of shadows accompanied by a larger, robed figure that moved with the stealth of a ghost.Guilliman and his Ultramarines were shut inside cells that lined the circular walls of a huge, cylindrical chamber. These alcoves were closed off not by metal bars or locked doors, but by flickering sheets of sorcerous, mutagenic flame. A full squad of Red Corsairs stood guard over them, their guns trained unwaveringly upon the one functional doorway that led into this shadowy prison.Unseen, another doorway slid open in the chamber's curving wall, directly behind the guards. In absolute silence, the Harlequins of the Laughing God rolled, tumbled and span from within, their movements a sinister dance to some unheard song of the dead. They drew closer to the Renegade Space Marines with every graceful step, naked blades held ready for murder.The first the Red Corsairs knew of their peril was a sudden, whirlwind attack from behind. Perfectly dispersed and lethally poised, the Eldar struck with murderous grace. Rapier blades punched out through chest plates in sprays of blood. Monoflament needles slithered through the chinks in their victims' Power Armour, liquefying organs in Terran milliseconds. Point-blank hails of shuriken and fusion energies hurled Traitor corpses to the floor in mists of blood.A single one of the Traitors -- unhelmed and horn-headed -- roared in pain as a Harlequin drove her blade through one of his knee joints, then cart wheeled around him to kick his Bolter from his hands. She completed her attack with an elegant back flip, one foot catching the Traitor under the chin and smashing him onto his back.The Harlequin sprang away, and the Red Corsair fumbled for his side arm. He froze as a robed figure in ornate Power Armour loomed over him. The Traitor had never heard of Cypher, for the Fallen Angel was an enigma whose existence was hidden from most. He did, however, recognise the threat of the two heavy pistols now hovering before his face.Wordlessly, Cypher stared down at the Red Corsair, his eyes glinting beneath his cowl. The Traitor stared back, yellowed gaze burning with defiance and hate. Cypher gestured with one of his pistols towards the cells that lined the walls. The movement was minimal, but the meaning clear. Growling low in his throat, the Corsair reached slowly into a pouch at his belt and drew forth a rune-inscribed amulet. The key to dispelling the psychic magics that held the cells closed.Cypher nodded his gratitude, then raised one booted foot and stamped down on the Traitor's head. Bone smashed and blood sprayed, the Red Corsair's body twitching then lying still. Holstering his Bolt Pistol, the Fallen Angel plucked the key from his victim's open gauntlet, and then straightened up. He found himself staring into the shifting mask of the Shadowseer, Sylandri Veilwalker. She who had contacted Guilliman as he wandered lost in the Maelstrom. She who had enlisted Cypher's aid, and instructed Belisarius Cawl to leave his forge on Mars. Veilwalker sketched a mocking bow to Cypher, then pointed her staff towards a distant cell. With a nod, Cypher turned and strode towards it.Through dancing flames, Guilliman watched the robed figure approach.The Primarch did not recognise this cowled Space Marine, but he knew the Legion whose colours he wore."You are Roboute Guilliman", said the mysterious Space Marine as he stopped outside the Primarch's cell."And you are one of the Lion's sons", replied Guilliman. "You keep questionable company, Dark Angel. Who are you, and why are you here?""I can free you," replied the hooded figure, deigning not to answer the Primarch's questions.Realising that no further explanation was forthcoming, Guilliman frowned. "Can", he rumbled. "Not will. What do you want in return?""You will take me to Terra", replied the Dark Angel. "To the Throne."The malefic flames crackled and the distant sounds of battle rumbled on as Guilliman's silence stretched long. Even bound in sorcerous chains, the Primarch's presence was immense, his steady glare thunderous. Yet the Dark Angel stood unwavering, like a statue carved from granite. Guilliman strained once more against his bonds, and again found them unyielding."It seems that my choices are to rot here, or accede to your demand", said the Primarch slowly. "The former would be to fail in my duty, so I suppose it will have to be the latter. But understand this, Dark Angel. If you seek to trick or manipulate me, nothing in this galaxy will save you."One corner of the stranger's mouth lifted into a small, bitter smile. "As you say", he muttered, then brandished the runic stone held in his off-hand. The flames of Guilliman's cell died away in response, followed by the fires of every other cell around the chamber's edge.