The First Heretic

‘Horus’s flagship has had the little rats crawling over its decks for two years. Can you believe that?’

Argel Tal shrugged his shoulders, uncaring either way. ‘Three of the poets read to the Blessed Lady, for which Cyrene is monumentally grateful. And I have a beautiful pict of De Profundis that one of them took on his first day. It almost stopped my heart to see the ship looking so grand.’

Xaphen chuckled. ‘You are growing soft, brother.’

The two warriors had retired to Xaphen’s prayer room, which was a rather immodest chamber by Argel Tal’s standards. The Chapter Master preferred Spartan furnishings and a minimum of distraction, but Xaphen’s personal reflection room was decorated in a plethora of banners and old prayer scrolls cast across the table and floor. Many of the banners were from victories fought with other Legions – as they talked, the Chaplain added another to the hallowed ranks. This one sported the metallic skull of the Iron Warriors, emblazoned with runes around the central symbol.

Several of them resembled Colchisian constellations. Argel Tal examined them each in turn. ‘What are these?’

‘Symbols of the Iron Warrior circles. They do not name them “lodges”, as the Sons of Horus do.’

Argel Tal removed his helm with a click-hiss of air pressure. As always, the Chaplain’s festooned chamber had the lingering twin-scent of dried spices and old incense.

‘You were gone much longer than expected,’ he said. ‘Problems?’

‘Nothing worth doing is ever easy.’

Argel Tal flexed his hands, closing and opening them from fists. They ached. They’d ached for days now.

‘That doesn’t answer my question.’

‘There were no problems,’ said Xaphen. ‘I stayed longer because it seemed prudent. Their circles are large, taking up the overwhelming majority of the Legion, but it was a critical phase. I was not the only Chaplain there.’

Argel Tal raised an eyebrow, not realising he was mimicking Cyrene’s bemused smirk out of habit. ‘Oh?’

‘Maloq Kartho was there to deal with another of the warrior circles, and I was treated to several of his sermons. The air fairly reeked of brimstone when he spoke. Var Valas was there, as well. Both were with the Iron Warriors after long tenures with the World Eaters.’ Xaphen sighed – a satisfied sound to match the brightness in his eyes. ‘The web is wide, brother. Lorgar’s conspiracy spans the stars themselves. At last count, there are over two hundred of our Chaplains seconded to other fleets. Erebus now stands at the Warmaster’s side. Can you give that countenance? Horus himself, heeding Erebus’s words.’

Xaphen laughed as he trailed off. ‘It begins, brother.’

Argel Tal didn’t share his brother’s relish. A scowl darkened features that had grown continually more scarred over the last half a century.

‘I do not like that word,’ he said, low and slow.

‘What word?’

‘The word you used. Conspiracy. It demeans the primarch’s vision. It demeans us all.’

Xaphen smoothed the black war banner against the wall before stepping back to admire it. ‘You are oversensitive,’ he muttered.

‘No, I am not. It is the wrong word, implying plotted schemes and ignoble secrecy.’

‘Dress it however you wish,’ the Chaplain said. ‘We are the architects of humanity’s ascension, and the web of necessary deceit is wide.’

‘I choose to see it in nobler terms. Now finish what you have to say. I am releasing the Gal Vorbak, and have final preparations to make.’

The Chaplain sensed Argel Tal’s recalcitrance. It was hard not to. ‘You are angry with me.’

‘Of course I am angry with you. I have five hundred warriors that haven’t seen a Chaplain from their own Legion in almost a year. You were many months overdue, fighting with the Iron Warriors. Oros, Damane and Malaki are also still with Perturabo’s lesser fleets, furthering the conspiracy.’ He sneered through the word.

‘What of Sar Fareth?’

‘Dead.’

‘What?’

‘Killed ten months ago, shortly after you left. Slain by a human, of all things. An unlucky thrust with a wooden spear.’ Argel Tal tapped two fingertips against his neck. ‘Tore out most of his throat, laid it bare to the bone. I’ve never seen anything like it. Blood of the gods, I’d have laughed if it hadn’t been so pathetically tragic. He bled out before the Apothecaries could reach him, still trying to shout the whole time.’

‘What happened to his killer?’

Argel Tal had seen it himself. Sar Fareth had gripped the human’s shoulder and leg, and pulled. The result came away in three bloody pieces before the Chaplain died.

‘Justice happened.’

Xaphen released a breath that wasn’t quite a sigh. Sar Fareth had been one of his own: trained by his hand to wield a crozius in Lorgar’s name.

Argel Tal crossed his arms over his armoured chest. ‘Will the Iron Warriors join us?’

The Chaplain’s smile returned. ‘Will they? Perturabo’s Legion has already abandoned the Great Crusade. I was with them on Olympia.’

That couldn’t be. ‘Olympia?’ Argel Tal managed to speak. ‘So soon?’