Aaron Dembski-Bowden - The First Heretic

‘So you say, brother.’ Magnus shrugged. ‘You will not be judged kindly for that belief.’

Lorgar poured a glass of dark wine, its scent heightened by the powdered spices added during its fermentation. Lacking the climate for grape vineyards, Colchisian wine was almost always made from dates. The bitter drink reddened his lips as he sipped it.

‘We are immortal,’ Lorgar pointed out. ‘Why would we worry for the future when we will still be around to shape it?’

Magnus ventured no answer.

‘You’ve seen something,’ Lorgar pressed. ‘Something in the Great Ocean. Something in the warp you stare into so often. Some... some hint at what might be. A future yet to come?’

‘It doesn’t work that way, brother.’

‘You’re lying. You are lying to me.’

Magnus turned his gaze from the darkening sky. ‘Sometimes you see and hear only what you wish. You’re wrong, Lorgar. Father is not a god. There are no gods.’

At last, Lorgar smiled as if he’d waited hours for those words to be spoken.

‘Is he a magical sky-spirit dwelling inside a mythical paradise? No. I am not a fool. He is not a god as primitive cultures once understood the concept. But the Emperor is a god in all but name, Magnus. He is psychic power incarnated within a physical shell. When he speaks, his lips never move and his throat makes no sound. His face is a thousand visages at once. The only aspect of humanity he possesses is the facade he wears to interact with mortals.’

‘That’s a very melodramatic perception.’

‘And it is true. The only difference between you and I is that you call him father, and I call him a god.’

Magnus sighed, his breath rumbling as he suppressed a growl. ‘I see where you are leading with this. Now I see why you summoned me. And Lorgar... I am leaving.’

Lorgar offered a golden hand, reaching out to his brother. ‘Please, Magnus. If the Emperor is what he is, there might be other beings that wield the same power. How can so many legends of divinity, from so many disparate cultures, all agree on other powers that exist beyond the veil? There must be gods in the universe. Our species’ most natural instincts cannot be wrong.’

‘This reeks of desperation,’ Magnus sighed. ‘Have you considered that father warned you for a reason?’

‘There is no shame in seeking the truth, Magnus. You of all souls should know that. Have you seen nothing of this in your travels through the Great Ocean? No beings that a human civilisation could perceive as a god or daemon?’

Magnus did not reply. His gaze burned into his brother.

‘My mind is alive with questions,’ the Word Bearer lord confessed. ‘Where in the galaxy would gods and mortals meet?’

The giant’s lip curled. ‘The Great Ocean hides much beneath its tides, Lorgar. We have both walked worlds where the warp bleeds into our reality, only to be manipulated by heathen ritemasters and misinterpreted as “magic”. Would you deceive yourself as they do?’

‘Stay,’ Lorgar implored. ‘ Help me.’

Magnus shook his head. ‘Help you stare into the abyss? You want me to guide you along the paths walked by primitives and barbarians?’

Lorgar drew a shaky breath before replying.

‘Help me seek the truth that lies behind the stars. What if we are waging a false crusade? This might be an unholy war... World after world is purged or brought to compliance... We might be strangling the truth – a truth believed in one form or another by countless cultures... We... We... I hear something call out to me, day and night. Something in the void. Is it fate? Is this how we perceive the future? By hearing destiny’s voice whisper our names?’

Lorgar fell silent as Magnus came to him, the larger brother gripping the other’s robed shoulders. The golden primarch’s lips were trembling. His fingers twitched and shook.

‘My brother, you are raving,’ said Magnus. ‘Look at me. Peace, Lorgar. Peace. Look at me.’

Lorgar did as he was asked. Magnus the Red, the Crimson King, fixed his brother’s gaze with his own remaining eye.

‘Your eye has changed colour,’ Lorgar murmured. ‘I hear them calling, Magnus. Fate. Destiny. I hear destiny’s thousand voices...’

‘Focus on me,’ Magnus intoned, speaking slow and soft. ‘Listen well to my words. You are speaking from fear. A fear of failing again. A fear of dooming another world to destruction. A fear that father will order a third Legion, and a third son, to be purged from history.’

‘The fear has faded. I am no longer afraid. I am inspired.’

‘You cannot hide it from me with mere words, brother. And you are right to fear what may come to pass. You stand on the precipice of destruction, and still contemplate a path that will send you falling over the edge. I understand your pain. Everything you achieved on Colchis was for a flawed faith. Every compliant world is one your Legion must revisit and reshape. But you cannot live in fear of making another mistake.’

Lorgar said nothing for several moments. At last, his shoulders slumped.

‘You could have helped me, Magnus.’ The Word Bearers’ primarch lifted his brother’s hands away, and walked back to the wine table. ‘We could have taken the Pilgrimage together, and sought the place where the stars are stained by divine influence. You see into the Great Ocean better than anyone else. You could have been my navigator.’

Magnus narrowed his good eye. In sympathy, the puckered scar marking the absence of his other eye pulled tight.

‘What do you intend to do, Lorgar? You have no idea of what you seek.’

‘I will continue the Great Crusade,’ Lorgar smiled, taking another swallow of the dark wine. ‘I will cast my fleet across the galaxy, and bring every world we find into compliance. And as we sail the heavens, we will be as pilgrims seeking a holy land. If there is truth behind the legends so many cultures share, then I will find it. And with it, I will enlighten humanity.’

Magnus said nothing. Disbelief robbed him of speech.

Lorgar drained the wine. It stained his golden lips again. ‘I will apply my Legion’s full strength to the Great Crusade, and never raise another monument in the Emperor’s image. I will do it all under the watchful eyes of his Custodes war dogs. Surely there is no harm in recording ancient tales of faiths from the cultures we encounter? You yourself assured me they were all false. Father said the same.’

‘I am leaving,’ Magnus said again, and moved to the centre of the room. Resting his gloved hand on the great leather-bound book chained to his belt, the primarch looked back at his brother. They would not meet again for almost forty years, and the galaxy would be a very different place by the time they did.

They both sensed this. It carried between them in that lingering stare: half-challenge, half-plea.

‘What swims within the Great Ocean that you’ve always kept from us?’ Lorgar demanded, teeth clenching. ‘What secrets hide within the warp? Why do you spend your life staring into it, if there’s nothing there? What if I asked our father about your secret travels into the aether?’

‘Farewell, Lorgar.’

The Word Bearers lord pulled back his hood, his handsome features rendered into true gold by the candlelight.

‘Is there a place where reality and unreality converge? An empyrean, a heaven that humanity has always misunderstood? A realm where gods and mortals meet? Answer me, Magnus. ’

Magnus shook his head as motes of misty light began to form around him. A teleportation lock from his vessel in orbit. Wind, from nowhere, began to breathe.

‘What are the voices?’ Lorgar screamed over the rising winds. ‘Who calls to me?’