‘That look, disdain and cynicism,’ said Maklen, turning back to regard the Saint where she held her hands out in benediction to the praying masses. ‘It’s unbecoming and bad for morale. Besides,’ added Maklen quietly, ‘while the Saint was doing all that, what were your orders again, Charn? I forget…’
Blaskaine bit his tongue and looked away, feigning interest in the crowd. Retreat had been the soundest strategic option at the time, he told himself. They’d retreated from Cadia, hadn’t they? That had been on the orders of old Creed himself, the great and famous general. How could he possibly have factored divine intervention into his strategies at a moment like that? Only a fool looked to their faith to save them at such times; it was a motivational tool, nothing more.
Yet as he looked up at the stern visage of the Living Saint and saw the love and intensity in her gaze as she looked upon the faithful, some small part of Blaskaine wondered whether he had been wrong to think so.
‘She’s going to address the crowd,’ said Lieutenant Tasker, awe and excitement clear in the younger officer’s voice. Blaskaine saw that Celestine had indeed stepped forward and held out a hand for silence. Slowly the throng around her quieted, eyeing her with expectant adoration. She was their saviour, that look said, and they would do anything she commanded. Blaskaine shook his head quietly, and made a mental note to keep his head no matter what occurred. Someone had to.
‘Faithful of the Emperor, I wish to commend you,’ said Celestine, her voice deep and powerful, utterly filled with conviction. ‘In the dark of the night you fought like lions. You stood your ground against the heretic, the degenerate and the unbeliever, and you did not falter.’
As she said this, Blaskaine felt as though Celestine’s eyes found his for a moment. He looked away hurriedly, frowning.
‘The Emperor saw your bravery!’ cried Celestine, and the crowd around her cheered. ‘He saw your faith, and He heard your prayers,’ she said, her voice carrying over the din like a gunshot. More rapturous cheering erupted. ‘He recognised your sacrifices, and He sent you His Living Saint to lead you to victory!’ She brandished her silver sword above her head. The dawn sun shone from its blade as the faithful howled their devotion and uttered fervent prayers.
‘But our work is not yet done,’ said Celestine, motioning again for quiet. It fell swiftly, the crowd utterly in the Saint’s thrall, desperate to do anything that would please her. Blaskaine felt her power, the magnetic pull of her, the heat and power of her faith stoking his own. He found he was clutching the aquila that he wore about his neck and couldn’t quite convince himself to let it go, for all his reservations.
‘The darkness above has fallen across fully half of the Emperor’s realm,’ said Celestine, her sombre words eliciting cries of denial and moans of sorrow. ‘This world of Kophyn is but one of hundreds cut off from the Emperor’s light! But all is not lost, faithful! In adversity so we show our true strength, and though His light may not reach us here, now, know that the Emperor still sees our courage and He hears our prayers. Now is the time we must prove our faith by fighting harder than ever to dispel the darkness and drive back the servants of the Dark Gods! Now is the time we must snatch victory from the jaws of defeat! We must raise aloft our shining blades and drive them into the heart of every traitor and heretic until they drown in an ocean of their own tainted blood. Can you do this, faithful?’
Screams.
Cheers.
‘Tell us how, Saint!’ cried others.
‘The Emperor protects!’ came shouts and sobs and rapturous screams. Blaskaine shook his head again, this time in amazement. He liked to pride himself on a rousing speech every now and again, but this was something entirely other.
‘For now, look to your wargear, gather your rations, and arm those who carry no weapon,’ said Celestine. ‘Offer prayers to the Emperor and make ready for battle, for there can be no rest for us until this world is returned to the embrace of the Master of Mankind. Emperor go with you, faithful. Be ready to muster when you hear the bells chime.’
With that, it was clear that the audience was over. Blaskaine expected the crowd to linger, and for many to try to reach the Living Saint or beg her personal benediction. Instead they turned, all the rank and file soldiery and the citizens alike, and flowed away into the Adul to do as they were bidden. Many made the sign of the aquila or shot last, adoring glances at the Saint as they departed.
‘Throne alive, absolute obedience,’ said Blaskaine.
‘That’s the power of faith at a time like this,’ said Lieutenant Kasyrgeldt from her position at his right hand.
‘Well, time to discover what the Saint wants of us,’ said Captain Maklen as the last of the crowds dispersed, leaving only the command groups of the Astra Militarum and the Battle Sisters standing in the shadow of the gate. Celestine stepped down from the hull of the ruined tank, flanked by her Geminae Superia, and strode to meet them.
‘This should be interesting,’ said Blaskaine.
‘Thank you for attending my summons,’ said Celestine, favouring them all with a pragmatist’s smile. This close, Meritorius could feel the Living Saint radiating power. Even weighed down by the cold ashes of her own faith, the Sister Superior felt the heat of the Saint’s beating upon her. As one, the surviving Sisters of the Ebon Chalice dropped to their knees and bowed their heads, raising the sign of the aquila to Celestine. She motioned for them to rise.
‘I don’t see we could very well refuse it,’ said Major Blaskaine. ‘You came to us in our hour of need, after all.’ He gestured towards Celestine with a self-effacing smile. Meritorius thought the man was working rather harder than normal to affect his normal insouciance, and felt irritation that he would attempt to diminish the Saint so.
‘What would you have of us, my lady?’ asked Sub-Duke Velle-Marchon, bowing deeply. His strategic court stood around him in their armoured finery, staring with undisguised awe.
‘I would have your strength, and your faith, and your aid, Gastar Velle-Marchon,’ said Celestine.
‘You know my name?’ asked the sub-duke, blinking at her through his monocular. He removed his crested helm and ran a hand through his short-cropped hair, bowing again.
‘I know the names of all faithful servants of the Emperor, sub-duke,’ said Celestine warmly.
‘You have the Astorosian Ninth, or what is left of us,’ said Velle-Marchon.
‘And I am sure that I speak for all my comrades in arms when I say that the might of the Cadian regiments of Tanykha Adul is also at your disposal,’ said Captain Maklen. ‘But my lady Saint, to what end?’
‘Victory, Petronella Maklen,’ said Celestine.
‘On Kophyn?’ blurted Blaskaine. The Saint turned her gaze upon him, and Meritorius saw him quail.
‘Yes, Major Blaskaine, victory in the Emperor’s name,’ said Celestine. ‘You harbour doubts?’
Blaskaine looked around and saw the gaze of the other officers upon him, many of them disapproving. The glares from several of Meritorius’ own Battle Sisters were downright poisonous. She, for her part, merely watched to see if he would be cowed by the aura of power crackling around Celestine, or if he would fight his corner. Why did she not feel as her sisters did? Where was her awe at this magnificent woman? Why did she alone seem to feel doubt as Blaskaine did, even as she felt anger at his questioning? Meritorius felt such frustration in that moment that she would have done anything to climb outside herself, to be anyone else at all, any one of her sisters whose faith still burned hot and uncomplicated in their breast. Who even was she without her faith? What was her purpose here?
‘Yes, my lady, I’ve a few, as should any officer here who considers themselves worth their commission,’ said Blaskaine. ‘I know that you’ve only just arrived here from… wherever you were… but I can only assume that no one has appraised you of the situation. If that is the case then I can only apologise for laxity on our pa
rt, but you must understand, lady Saint, that conventional strategic victory is not a possibility on Kophyn.’
Celestine looked serious.
‘You believe this world to be already lost, major?’ she asked.
Meritorius was surprised to hear Maklen speak up in Blaskaine’s defence.
‘My lady, with the greatest respect, the major is correct. We’ve barely six thousand able soldiers surviving between all our regiments, and far too few armoured units to properly transport or support them. What few aircraft we had left were lost last night, as were the majority of our abhuman reserves. We’ve near as many wounded as ambulatory, and enough supplies and materiel for a few weeks’ survival at most.’
‘And what of the enemy, and how he came to command such power here?’ asked Celestine. ‘Sister Superior Anekwa Meritorius, tell me of the War Engine.’
Meritorius’ tongue clove to the roof of her mouth as the Saint turned her full regard upon her. She took a deep breath and cleared her throat.
‘The War Engine is a renegade warlord, Saint. None have laid eyes upon him and lived, for he coordinates his campaigns from a hidden location that we have been unable to find,’ said Meritorius. ‘Our mission had barely reached Kophyn when the darkness fell, and the world was cut off. We tried to shepherd the people, my lady, but…’ Meritorius found she couldn’t look Celestine in the eye. The weight of the Sisters’ failure settled between her shoulders and forced her to bow her head.
‘But there is much ignorance in this galaxy, and you could not stem its tide at such a dark and terrible hour,’ said Celestine. ‘Do not shy from failure, Sister Meritorius. Embrace it. Understand what it can teach you. And do not shoulder blame that is not yours to carry. Continue, please.’
Meritorius looked up, but her voice remained low and sombre as she recounted the rest of the harrowing tale.
‘When the people of Kophyn could not reach their Emperor, when the astropaths found themselves cut off from the light of the Astronomican, many feared that the end had come. They resorted to local folklore. Grim superstitions that had never been fully uprooted amongst the mountain miner-clans. They directed their prayers to a darker being, and so the War Engine came. A madness spread amongst the people. Sedition. Heresy. The Cadian regiments arrived early in the war, their ships spat from the void storms by pure chance. They joined the fighting, but it was already too late. With the planetary defence force turned, much of the civilian populace mobilised against us, and the War Engine’s formidable strategic leadership…’ Her voice faltered again.
‘Defeat followed defeat, though it was through no fault of Sister Superior Meritorius,’ said Blaskaine grimly, and she shot him a grateful look. ‘The situation was always untenable. We were on the defensive from the start, dashing from one fire to the next, never able to establish where our enemy’s stronghold lay or muster a proper counter-offensive. Not that we didn’t give it a bloody good try a few times.’
‘What if I were to tell you that I know precisely where the seat of the War Engine’s power lies, the source of the madness that has claimed the people of this world, and that it is but four hundred miles from this very spot?’
‘I would say that I sincerely wish you had come to us six weeks sooner, when such intelligence could have made a difference,’ said Major Blaskaine bitterly, eliciting several hushed gasps from Velle-Marchon’s advisors.
‘My lady, what are you saying?’ asked Captain Maklen carefully, ignoring her superior officer’s words.
‘I am saying that I know where and how we must strike at our enemy to defeat him and break his grip upon this world,’ said Celestine. ‘The Emperor did not send me here by chance. I am to lead the faithful in a crusade. A crusade to liberate Kophyn from its Chaos oppressors and return this world to the Imperial fold.’
‘My lady Saint, you ask us to martyr ourselves,’ said Meritorius, shocked at her own utterance. Celestine turned to look at her again, a strange expression upon her face, but Meritorius pressed on. ‘The enemy have millions of warriors and countless armoured assets to hurl at us. Last night we witnessed but a portion of their true power. We will fight for you, Saint, but what you ask of us is suicide.’
‘Have faith, Sister Superior,’ said Celestine. The thought rose unbidden in Meritorius’ mind that she would give anything, anything at all to feel faith again. She knew a moment’s panic at the thought her emotions might show on her face, but Celestine carried on without comment.
‘What I ask will not be easy. Few of us will live to see its end, for truly it is a martyr’s road. But at its end lies the salvation of this world, and the Emperor’s blessings for all of those who fought to secure it, the living and the dead alike.’
‘You’re suggesting we go on the offensive, with a force that can barely make better than foot-marching speed, across the dust plains of Kophyn against a world’s worth of enemies?’ asked Major Blaskaine. ‘With the utmost respect, we stand in the best remaining defensive position we’re going to see–’
‘A position that you were all too ready to abandon last night, major,’ said Celestine.
‘Be that as it may, this is madness,’ said Blaskaine, looking around for support from his comrades. ‘We’re all ready to die for the Emperor, my lady, but why throw our lives away so fruitlessly?’
‘The foe scattered to the winds after their defeat,’ said Celestine. ‘But they will return. You all know this. And when they come against you, you will find that this is not a fortress, but a cage within which you will be trammelled and slaughtered. That is a fruitless waste, for it serves no purpose but that of the Dark Gods.’
She looked around at each of them in turn, challenging any to dispute her logic. Meritorius could not.
‘Well then,’ said Captain Maklen after the silence had grown thick and awkward. ‘I say bugger it! Why ever not? One last glorious crusade in the Emperor’s name, surely better than dying like rats in a hole.’
Meritorius saw stirrings of agreement amongst the assembled officers. Her own sisters murmured loudly in support, several offering up prayers. Still nothing sparked inside Anekwa, though she willed it to with all her might. But she could see the sense of marching out over digging in, at least.
‘What of the wounded?’ she asked.
‘Those that can travel will be armed and returned to ranks,’ said Celestine. ‘Those who cannot should take to the caves of the Adul and barricade themselves in. With the Emperor’s grace, by marching out to war we will draw the gaze of the enemy away from our fallen, for the heretics upon this world serve a bloody god who seeks war above all things.’
‘And you say you know where we would go, where we should strike to potentially end this war?’ asked Major Blaskaine. To Meritorius’ surprise, the man sounded half-way convinced. She saw cogs turning behind his eyes.
‘That is correct, major. If we are strong and true, if we show faith and do not falter, then the Emperor has shown me that we can achieve victory upon this world, and that the truly worthy may even live to revel in it. And even for those who do not, there may be other opportunities along the hard and bloody road. Revenge. Catharsis. Redemption.’
Meritorius saw a muscle twitch under Blaskaine’s eye, but the major’s jaw set hard.
‘Then I’m with Petronella,’ he said.
‘We can hardly watch others commit to the word of Celestine, and not do so ourselves,’ said Meritorius. ‘The Order of the Ebon Chalice are yours to command in this, Saint.’
Affirmations came swiftly after that, the last of the officers pledging their strength to the endeavour.
‘My thanks, friends,’ said Celestine when they had finished. ‘We do the Emperor’s work. Now, gather about and please, those with maps and data-slates provide them. We must plan our crusade and gather our strength, and time is against us.’
Hidden amidst the smoke-wreathed shadows of the funeral pyres, Unct
orian Gofrey had watched the Saint persuade the Imperial leaders to commit to her plan. Now, as their council of war broke up and they went their separate ways, anger burned within him, hotter than the corpse-fire behind which he hid. What kind of fools were these, to be taken in so easily by her honeyed words? No wonder the Imperium had fallen, thought Gofrey, if heretics such as these led its armies.
No, this supposed Saint was nothing of the sort. He knew. He saw with the Emperor’s eyes, saw clear and true.
Gofrey had witnessed many terrible things in his life, and he knew a daemon when he saw one at work. Her sudden manifestation, her aura of power, the way she had beguiled all around her with displays of strength and compassion.
So holy.
So convenient.
So false.
The Emperor had already sent a servant to this world, and Gofrey was he. And now, with the arrival of this silver-tongued harridan, he knew at last what task the Emperor had for him. The damned fools before him were already lost to her wiles, but there was one man left upon Kophyn with the faith to stand up to the winged temptress. Before this war was done, Unctorian Gofrey would see the Emperor’s justice meted out to she who epitomised all that had brought the Imperium to ruin.
He would banish the so-called Saint and display her true and twisted nature for all to see.
As he turned and paced back into the Adul’s depths, Gofrey clasped the thing that hung on a leather thong about his neck. Yes, he thought, he had secrets, and power, and he saw the truth.
‘Praise the Emperor,’ whispered Gofrey as he vanished into the shadows. ‘Praise the Emperor…’
Consciousness – welcome, filled with a dawning sense of purpose. Celestine opened her eyes onto candlelight and took a slow breath. She saw that Faith stood near the shrine’s arched entrance, beside the splintered remains of the door.
‘You are ready to depart, Saint?’ asked Faith.
‘I am, but if you will permit me, I have many more questions,’ said Celestine. She yawned, stretched, noted that she still felt neither hunger nor thirst.
Celestine - Andy Clark Page 7
