The First Heretic

Argel Tal shrugged a shoulder. ‘I do not see how we could.’

Erebus chuckled. ‘Think back to the Old Ways, and the lore you know of that faith from archives. Think back to the superstition and dogma that the Emperor has sought to banish from the sphere of human knowledge in his precious “Great Crusade”. How much of humanity’s clearest, core beliefs centred around sacrifice and spells fuelled by blood? Blood is life. Blood is the focus of a million magics, linking invoker and victim, or serving as an offering to reach the higher powers within the warp. If you have a being’s blood, you can tailor a poison to slay them and no other – a venom bred to end a single life, but to spare all others.’

‘And our blood is the blood of the Emperor,’ Argel Tal finished for him.

‘Yes. But it is thinned and filtered by mass production, with too many artificial chemical components, making it too weak to use in either alchemy or sorcery. The link to our grandsire is far too tenuous.’

Alchemy. Sorcery. Argel Tal found it starkly ironic that even with a daemon in his heart, he hated to hear of these words spoken so lightly. Truly, the winds of change had blown hard in the four decades of his unofficial exile.

Erebus looked across the battlefield, where the Iron Warriors were gathering bodies with the blunt efficiency so typical of the Legion’s attitude to warfare. Tanks fitted with great plough blades heaved through piles of the slain, sending the bodies tumbling along towards the funeral pyre.

‘Do you understand?’ he asked, without taking his eyes from the funerary work.

‘You believe the Custodes offer a closer link to the Emperor.’

‘I do. They are born from the same genetic code, though ours was filtered for mass production. They are purer for their rarity, if not their quality.’

It was an old assumption, and one with no proof, to claim that the Emperor was a primarch to the Custodian Guard. Argel Tal shook his head.

‘You need living Custodes for their blood,’ he said, ‘in the hopes of chasing what may well be a myth.’

‘All weapons must be considered.’ Erebus was composed. ‘No one but the Emperor has ever had the chance to study the Custodes, and knowledge is power. It must be guarded well. We have tried rituals with the blood of eleven Legions now, and all results met with disaster. What if we master the secrets of the Custodian genus? We could harness that lore to strengthen ourselves, not simply harm our foes. The Custodians in the main fleet, led by Iacus, were killed in battle long ago. Aquillon and his minions present one of the few remaining opportunities. Their blood must be borne from a beating heart for the rituals to have any hope of success.’

Another thought occurred, and Argel Tal spoke before considering it. ‘Are not the primarchs closest to the Emperor? You could use their blood for these... rituals.’

Erebus laughed. For the first time in Argel Tal’s life, he heard the First Chaplain really, honestly laughing. ‘Truth,’ Erebus smiled, ‘from the mouths of babes. Do you see any willing primarchs? We failed to capture any of the Emperor’s sons here, and you will not find Horus or even Aurelian eager to let their blood be manipulated in such a way.’

Argel Tal hesitated. In his hand, his helm emitted a vox-crackle.

‘My lord?’ came the voice of Fleetmaster Torvus. The Word Bearer replaced his helm with a deep sigh of reluctance. His clear vision was immediately stained dark and flickered with targeting markers.

‘This is Argel Tal.’

‘Sir, our final four ships have broken from the warp. The Occuli Imperator is demanding to board De Profundis immediately.’

‘Allow it. It no longer matters. They will have their suspicions, but only evidence would rouse them to fury. We are returning to orbit within the hour, and will deal with them then. Has the ship sustained damage?’

‘A great deal, but we’ve held it together through spit, grit and prayer. The only damage you will consider vital was taken on the Legion’s sanctum deck. Several breaches, but all hull wounds are isolated and secured.’

Argel Tal swallowed. ‘The Blessed Lady?’

‘Secure and well. A Euchar force investigated not thirty minutes ago. The enemy fleet is dust and wreckage in orbit. How fares the surface battle?’

Argel Tal scanned the devastation for several moments before answering. ‘We won, Baloc. That’s enough for now.’

Aquillon walked from the eagle-winged shuttle and onto the empty hangar deck. He’d never seen it so quiet: a hollow space of silent, waiting cranes and idle servitors standing by their wall-stations. The Legion was deployed, and everything the Word Bearers commanded had been committed to the world below.