Aaron Dembski-Bowden - The First Heretic

‘You are an insidious presence in my life, brother.’ The captain’s scowl darkened his otherwise handsome features. His eyes were the blue of Colchisian summer skies, and his face – unscarred like so many of his brethren – still showed echoes of the human he might have been.

‘That ship sailed a long time ago,’ the captain said. ‘I made my choice, and the First Chaplain made his.’

‘But–’

‘Enough, Torgal. Old wounds can still ache. Has there been word of the primarch’s return?’

Torgal regarded Argel Tal closely, as if seeking something hidden in his eyes. ‘Not that I’m aware of. Why do you ask?’

‘You know why. You’ve not heard anything from the Chaplain gatherings?’

Torgal shook his head. ‘They’re bound by oaths of secrecy that a few innocent questions won’t break. Have you spoken with Xaphen?’

‘Many times, and he reveals little. Erebus has the primarch’s ear, and delivers Aurelian’s words down to the warrior-priests at their conclaves. Xaphen promises we’ll be enlightened soon. The primarch’s seclusion will be a matter of weeks, not months.’

‘Do you believe that?’ Torgal asked.

Argel Tal laughed, the sound bitter and short. ‘Knowing what to believe is the greatest threat we face.’

Cyrene was asleep the next time she received a worthwhile visitor. The sound of her door sliding open roused her to a layer of rest slightly above unconsciousness.

‘Go away, Kale. I’m not hungry.’ She rolled over and covered her head with the ungenerous pillow. Evidently the monkish, scarce comforts of the Legion’s warriors extended to their servants, as well.

‘Kale?’ asked a deep, resonant voice.

Cyrene removed the pillow. Coppery saliva tingled under her tongue, and her heart beat a touch faster.

‘Hello?’ she called.

‘Who is Kale?’ the voice asked.

Cyrene sat up, her blind eyes flicking left and right in futile instinct. ‘Kale is the servitor that brings me my meals.’

‘You named your servitor?’

‘It was the name of a meat vendor in the Tophet Plaza. He was lynched for selling dog meat instead of lamb, and sentenced to penance for his deceit.’

‘I see. Appropriate, then.’

The stranger moved around the cell with the light whisper of robes. Cyrene could feel the change in the air – the newcomer was a hulking figure, imposing beyond her blindness.

‘Who are you?’ she asked.

‘I thought you would recognise my voice. It is Xaphen.’

‘Oh. Angels sound very similar to me. All of your voices are so low. Hello, Chaplain.’

‘Hello again, shuhl-asha .’

She kept the wince from her face. Even the respectful term for her trade shamed her, when spoken in an angel’s voice. ‘Where is Argel Tal?’

Xaphen growled, like a desert jackal at bay. It took a few seconds for Cyrene to realise it was a chuckle.

‘The captain is attending a gathering of Legion commanders.’

‘Why are you not with him?’

‘Because I am not a commander, and I had my own duties to attend to. A conclave of the Chaplain brotherhood, aboard the Inviolate Sanctity .’

‘Argel Tal told me of those.’

Xaphen’s smile infected his tone, rendering the words almost kindly. ‘Did he? And what did he tell you?’

‘That the primarch speaks to one named Erebus, and Erebus carries the lord’s words to the warrior-priests.’

‘True enough, shuhl-asha. I was told your vision is still not showing signs of return. The adepts are considering augmetic replacements.’

‘Replacing my eyes?’ She felt her skin crawl. ‘I... I wish to wait, to see if they heal.’

‘It is your choice. Augmetics of delicate organs are specialised and rare. If you wish to have them, there would be a wait of several weeks before they were ready for implantation.’

The angel’s clinical tone was curiously unnerving. He delivered his blunt, kindly sentences with all the care of a hammer to the head.

‘Why are they considering it?’ Cyrene asked.

‘Because Argel Tal asked it of them. The Apothecarion on board De Profundis has the resources necessary for human augmentation, when it comes to valued mortal crew.’

‘But I am of no value.’ She didn’t speak from self-pity, merely gave voice to her confusion. ‘I do not know how I could ever serve the Legion.’

‘No?’ Xaphen said nothing for a several moments. Perhaps he looked around the featureless chamber. His voice was gentler when it returned. ‘Forgive my laxity in visiting you, shuhl-asha . The last days have been difficult. Allow me to cast some light on your situation.’

‘Am I a slave?’

‘What? No.’

‘Am I a servant?’

The angel chuckled. ‘Let me finish.’

‘Forgive me, Chaplain.’

‘Several other Chapters encountered lost souls in Monarchia’s graveyard. You were not the only Khurian to join the Legion when we left, but you were the only one taken in by the Chapter of the Serrated Sun. You ask how you could serve us. I would argue that you already do. Argel Tal is my brother, and I know the paths his thoughts take. He brought you as a reminder, a symbol of the past. You are the living memorial of our Legion’s greatest failure.’

‘The perfect city was no den of sin.’ She tried to keep the offence from her voice. ‘Why do you always speak of it so?’

A pause. The slow release of a deep breath. ‘The city itself was not the sin. It was what the city represented. I have told you what the God-Emperor decreed that day. You have a keen mind, girl. Do not ask for answers you can shape yourself. Now, this desire to serve the Legion: tell me why it matters to you.’

She’d not really considered it before. It seemed the only course to walk, given her presence here. Yet there was a deeper reason, a desire that pulled at her in the uncountable hours she sat in silence.

‘I owe my life to the Legion,’ she said, ‘and I wish to serve because it feels right that I should. It would be fair.’

‘Is that all?’

She shook his head, with no idea if Xaphen was even looking at her. ‘No. I confess I am also lonely, and very bored.’

Xaphen chuckled again. ‘Then we will deal with that. Were you one of the faithful on Khur?’

Cyrene hesitated, and moistened dry lips with a nervous tongue. ‘I listened to the Speakers of the Word preaching in the plazas, and the daily prayers echoing across the city. Nothing stirred my heart. I believed, and I knew the scriptures, but I did not...’

‘Care.’

Cyrene nodded. Her throat gave a sticky click as she took a breath. ‘Yes,’ she admitted. She couldn’t help the twitch when Xaphen’s hand rested heavy on her shoulder.

‘I’m sorry,’ the young woman said, ‘for my lack of faith.’

‘Don’t be. You were right, Cyrene.’

‘I... what?’

‘You showed insight, and the strength to doubt conventional belief. Over countless centuries, humanity has achieved great things in the name of faith. History teaches us this. Faith is the fuel for the soul’s journey. Without belief in greater ideals, we are incomplete – the union of the spirit with the flesh is what raises us above beasts and inhumans. But misplaced worship? To bow down before an unworthy idol? This is a sin of the gravest ignorance. And that is a sin you’ve never been guilty of. Be proud of that, lady.’

Warmth flooded through her, to earn the respect of an angel like this. Fervour filled her voice for the first time since the death of her city.

‘How could anyone bow before an unworthy idol?’

Another pause. A hesitation, before sighing out the words. ‘Perhaps they were deceived. Perhaps they saw divinity and believed it was worthy of worship purely because it was divine.’