The First Heretic

Ishaq checked his picter’s battery cell, and went off in search of something that would make him famous.

The primarch was waiting for them.

As they disembarked from the Rising Sun and onto the main hangar platform of Fidelitas Lex, Lorgar stood in full warplate, the massive crozius maul Illuminarum in his grey fists. At his side, Erebus and Kor Phaeron wore their own granite-dark armour, the surfaces of each armour plate etched with invocations from the Word. Behind them, the entire First Company formed an imposing welcome in their overbearing suits of Terminator wargear, bearing double-barrelled bolters and long blades in brutish fists.

Lorgar’s benevolent countenance broke into a warm smile as the thirty-seven crimson warriors walked onto the hangar deck. As one, they went to their knees before their liege lord.

Lorgar gestured for them to rise. ‘Are your memories so short? My Gal Vorbak need never kneel before me.’

Argel Tal was the first back to his feet, noting the distaste upon Kor Phaeron’s aged features. He growled, baring his teeth at the first captain as his gauntlet claws extended.

Lorgar chuckled at the display. ‘My prayers are answered,’ the primarch continued, ‘for you have arrived.’

‘As ordered,’ said Argel Tal and Xaphen in the same moment.

The Gal Vorbak had little cohesion in their ranks. There was no pretence of standing at attention or gathering in orderly rows. They stood together but alone, each one remaining among their brothers yet guarding their personal space with narrowed eyes behind crystal blue helm lenses.

‘We make planetfall within the hour,’ Lorgar said. ‘Argel Tal, Xaphen, for now, I would have you come with us. You will rejoin your brothers before we commence the assault.’

‘Very well,’ said Argel Tal.

‘The Custodes?’ Lorgar asked. ‘Tell me they still live.’

‘They still live. We have them scattered on four separate vessels, assigned with “overseeing the defence” if the vessels are boarded in the coming battle.’

‘They know there will be a battle?’ Lorgar rounded on Argel Tal.

‘They are not fools, nor are they inured to news as it spreads from ship to ship. They are placed on four vessels that are... delayed... in the warp. Their Navigators and captains have been appraised of the situation’s delicacy, sire. The Custodes will not arrive until the Battle of Isstvan is won.’

Xaphen broke in. ‘They were spared, as you ordered.’ He ignored Argel Tal’s glare, feeling it despite the fact his brother still wore his helm.

‘It was not my order – at least not in recent years.’ The primarch gestured to Erebus, who inclined his head in turn. ‘The First Chaplain has demanded they remain alive all this time. He weaves the plans that require them alive.’

Argel Tal said nothing, though he openly radiated annoyance. Xaphen was less restrained. ‘Erebus?’ he asked, smiling behind his faceplate. ‘I have paid heed to every addendum and subscript in the Book of Lorgar, brother. I’ve used many of your new rituals myself. I would be keen to learn more of this one.’

‘In time, perhaps.’

Xaphen thanked the other Chaplain as the group moved on. Erebus remained closest to the primarch as they walked away – his stoic, tattooed features as stern and dignified as ever. Kor Phaeron stalked in their wake, the heavy gear-joints of his Terminator armour grinding with each step. Xaphen kept his actions the very mirror of Erebus’s, but Argel Tal glanced at the First Captain with a smile.

‘What amuses you, brother?’ the ageing half-Astartes asked.

‘You do, old one. You reek of fear. I pity you, that they never bred the human terror out of your bones.’

‘You think I feel fear?’ The scarred face twisted into something even sourer. ‘I have seen more than you know, Argel Tal. We have not been idle in the true Legion, while you danced at the galaxy’s edge, playing nursemaid to the Custodes.’

Argel Tal merely chuckled, the laugh leaving his helm in a low growl of crackling vox.

The Fidelitas Lex played host to a gathering of rare significance.

Upon entering the war room, Argel Tal couldn’t hold back an exhalation of awe. He’d been expecting a gathering of Word Bearer captains, Chaplains and Chapter Masters. He’d not anticipated the presence of commanders from the Night Lords, Alpha Legion and Iron Warriors, let alone the three figures that stood around the central hololithic table.

The crowds parted, allowing Lorgar to proceed to the centre, where he stood alongside his brothers. None of the three welcomed him, just as none of them seemed overly respectful to each other, either.

Argel Tal grunted acknowledgement of the two captains closest to him as he took his place at the front of the gathered Astartes. Their heraldry offered their identities in flowing Nostraman script: the first – a tall, austere warrior with bronze-plated skulls hanging from his pauldrons on iron chains, bore the numerals of 10th Company, and the name-etching Malcharion.