by Various
He approached Andronicus. ‘Father,’ he said. ‘May we talk?’
The priest looked up at him. ‘Yes, Chaplain. When I am done ministering to these souls.’ He turned back to the woman who knelt with him, head bowed, lips pressed to a small icon of the Emperor on a chain. Sentina stood for a moment, awkwardly waiting. Andronicus sighed and looked up again. ‘Very well. I’m coming.’
The priest stood, steadying himself against Sentina’s greave as he did so. They walked away from the fire, round the keep towards the hangar. Neither of them spoke for some time. It was Andronicus who eventually broke the silence.
‘You seem troubled, Chaplain Sentina.’
‘Yes, I… Yes.’
‘Do you have sins you would like to confess in sight of the Master of Mankind?’
Sentina looked down at the priest. ‘My faith is not the same as yours, human. Do not mock me.’
‘I wasn’t mocking,’ said Andronicus earnestly. ‘We all have things to confess, Chaplain. No man can go through life without concerns weighing upon his soul, and you are so much more than a man. I can only imagine that your concerns are greater than any ordinary man’s.’
The old priest paused. ‘Even we who hear the confessions of others need someone to talk to now and again. And who better than a fellow man of the cloth?’
‘I… don’t know where to begin,’ said Sentina.
‘Tell me when it changed,’ said the priest. Sentina looked at him sharply. ‘Oh, I’ve seen it before, boy,’ Andronicus said. ‘Not in a Space Marine, right enough, but the signs are there. You’re going through the motions, but you don’t feel it, am I right?’
Sentina’s silence spoke volumes. The priest nodded.
‘What happened?’ he asked. ‘You can tell me.’
‘You see the skulls on my armour, human?’ he indicated to the tiny skulls that peppered his battleplate. The priest peered at him myopically.
‘Oh, are they skulls? I thought they were just studs. How… macabre.’
‘They are necessary,’ said Sentina darkly. ‘Each of these skulls is crafted from the bone of a dead Ultramarine. Each one is a constant reminder of a brother who died because I failed in my duty. There are sixty-seven of them.’
Silence fell again, only the Chaplain’s heavy footfalls breaking it.
‘Have you heard of the tyranids, Andronicus?’ asked Sentina at last.
The priest shuddered. ‘I have heard dark rumours, and they were enough. Some sort of aliens who devour entire worlds, I believe?’
‘Yes,’ said the Chaplain. ‘They are a horror unimaginable. When they fall upon a planet, it is like death given form. A seething tide of monsters, large and small, devouring all that they touch. They have been… an especial nemesis for my Chapter. It is not widely known, but they landed on Macragge itself. They brought much death. Two centuries and the wounds are still to heal.’
‘Was that when…?’
Sentina shook his head. ‘No. I was not yet born when the Battle of Macragge took place. My shame came only a few years ago. A splinter from one of the aliens’ hive fleets fell upon Varos, a world that is protected by the Ultramarines. We responded. Many mighty deeds were performed that day, and we were ultimately victorious, but I made… a mistake. It was my first command, a task force assigned to hold a crossing. If it were to be lost, the aliens would have had easy access to the planetary capital. It was a glorious duty, and I performed it with zeal and pride.’
‘Ah, pride,’ said Andronicus. ‘Many a wise man has fallen victim to that foe.’ Sentina felt that comment like a stab wound. It must have showed on his face, because the priest waved for him to continue, looking abashed.
‘I was given discretion to abandon the crossing if necessary. We had other forces moving into place to stop the advance. But I was sure that my warriors could stop the xenos filth there. We would be the saviours of Varos.’
‘What happened?’
‘The aliens attacked in waves, each more powerful than the last, as if they were testing us. Perhaps they were. They have some great and evil intelligence behind them. In any case, I didn’t listen to those beneath me who had fought the tyranids before. I let my pride and my arrogance blind me to the truth that we could not hold out against the sheer volume of the foe.’
Sentina stopped moving. His voice was low and sepulchral, laced with the pain he felt. Talking about Varos was akin to reliving it.
‘We weathered many attacks. After each, the sergeants advised me to fall back. And then came the last assault. Monsters the size of buildings, priest. You cannot imagine them, masses of flesh and chitin and claw that could face a Warlord Titan and have a fighting chance of victory. And their weapons… I will spare you the horror. Suffice to say that we were overwhelmed. I watched the warriors under my command die, Andronicus. They fought to the last, every one of them. They fought and died as Ultramarines, humanity’s finest. But they didn’t need to die.’
‘How did you survive?’ the priest asked.
Sentina laughed hollowly. ‘That is the worst shame. I was the only survivor. The last I remember, I was locked in combat with an immense warrior-beast. I fell, and awoke in the apothecarion. I was alive. No one else from my force was. Sixty-seven Space Marines dead. And worse, their genetic legacy lost.’
He didn’t elaborate on that, and the priest didn’t ask.
‘And since then…’ Andronicus prompted.
‘I was absolved of blame,’ Sentina said bitterly. ‘The Masters of the Chapter judged that I had performed my duty. We held the foe for long enough that reinforcements arrived from the Astra Militarum, tens of thousands of soldiers who turned the tide. By the sacrifice of my brothers was Varos saved.’
‘It sounds like you did the right thing, Chaplain,’ said the priest gently.
‘For the wrong reasons.’
‘Is it not the result that matters?’
Sentina looked at him. ‘You know as well as I that it is weakness of spirit that opens a man up to the lures of the Dark Gods,’ he said.
‘Is that what you think has happened?’
‘No. I remain pure. But my faith has waned, priest. I speak to my brothers, advise them, counsel them, and the words turn to ashes in my mouth. I am diminished. I am weak.’
‘Your doubts are normal, Chaplain,’ countered Andronicus. ‘We all have them.’
‘I am a Space Marine. I know no fear, no doubt, no dismay.’
‘You are a man. Far removed from the common herd, perhaps. Altered and changed in body and mind, absolutely. But a man, nonetheless, and no man is free of doubt, no matter what they tell you. Take your lord Marneus Calgar, for example.’
‘What of him?’ The Chapter Master of the Ultramarines was a paragon, a shining beacon of duty and glory for all Ultramarines.
‘If you were to ask him, and if he were to be honest, he would tell you that he has suffered the same doubts and fears about himself as you, Sentina.’
‘Impossible.’
‘It is the human condition. Space Marine or no, doubt is universal. You have survivor’s guilt. Well let me tell you something: survival is no sin. In fact, in this misbegotten galaxy, it’s more or less the only real victory we can have.’
The priest paused, as if to collect his thoughts.
‘Sometimes the path of light is obscured by darkness. Darkness of the soul. The only person who doubts you is yourself, Chaplain. If your commanders did, you would have been removed from duty. If your brothers did, they wouldn’t follow you. What happened on that battlefield was not your fault. It was the tyranids that killed your warriors, not you. Don’t blame yourself. Blame the universe that spawned such horrors. And don’t punish yourself. Take revenge. Turn the pain you feel outwards. Make the enemies of the God-Emperor pay.’
Another silence.
‘You speak sense, priest. I shall think on it.’
‘Of course I speak sense. I have some experience, you know.’
‘You have suffered a cris
is of faith?’
‘Of course I have,’ said the priest with a smile. ‘I’m only human, aren’t I?’
Alia passed around corners and along passages, but the little boy remained frustratingly out of reach. Finally, she passed through a tall archway. Before her was an immense stone aquila, its wings spread and merging into patterns that continued across the walls and down onto the floor, where they flowed into a spiral design that went to the centre of the chamber.
Her brother was gone.
‘Felip?’ she said. Her voice sounded weak and childish in the huge room. ‘Felip?’ She knew she was being foolish. He wasn’t real. He couldn’t be. And yet, hope had flared in her heart. Maybe the Emperor had delivered a miracle. Maybe…
She heard a noise behind her, a rustling and what might have been an echo of a child’s laughter. She spun, and saw him running towards her. It was definitely Felip. His smile widened as he saw her. He dropped the horse, which hit the ground with an echoing thud, far louder than should have been possible for a carved wooden toy. The boy ran towards her, arms outstretched. She crouched, tears filling her eyes and spilling down her face. This was impossible. He couldn’t be real, he couldn’t, but…
He wasn’t. As he reached her and she leaned in to embrace him, he passed right through her, sending a chill up her spine. She turned and watched in horror as he crossed the immense chamber and stood before the great stone eagle. He reached up, standing on tiptoes, stretching as far as his tiny body would allow, and touched the great eagle on its wing. Then again, above one huge claw, and once more on the other wing. Then he turned, smiled, waved… and was gone.
Where he had touched, bloody handprints marked the marble of the aquila.
Aeroth was in the command centre of the fort, searching cogitator records, hoping in vain to find some sign of the vanished Doom Eagles. He knew it was a fool’s errand, but until they had some idea of what had happened to the garrison, Fort Garm would remain a mystery.
And Darin Aeroth hated mysteries.
‘Is all well, brother?’
Aeroth turned slowly to see Sentina striding towards him. The Chaplain looked absurdly tiny from the perspective of the mighty Centurion warsuit, particularly given the size of the corridors and chambers of the fort, based upon an STC design large enough to drive Rhinos through the passages or accommodate the bulk of a Dreadnought chassis.
‘It is, Brother-Chaplain. There is still no sign of what happened to the sons of Gathis.’
‘Most perplexing,’ said Sentina. ‘They cannot have vanished. And yet…’
‘Indeed,’ replied Aeroth. ‘Iova reports that the stores have been emptied of certain ammunition.’
‘Of what type?’ asked the Chaplain, leaning forward, his face a mask of interest.
‘Bolt-rounds, in the main. Power cells for chainswords as well, and flamer fuel.’
‘Did they leave, then?’
‘No vehicles are missing from the hangar, other than a single Stormtalon gunship. Enough for one person, no more. If the others departed, they did so on foot.’
Sentina shook his head. ‘There is more here than we understand. Something we are missing.’ He paused and looked at Aeroth. ‘Darin, may I ask you something?’
‘Of course, Manet,’ said Aeroth, intrigued.
The Chaplain slumped into a chair before one of the cogitator consoles. ‘Do you ever doubt yourself? Your command abilities?’
Aeroth raised an eyebrow. ‘Of course I do. Why do you ask? Is this about what happened with Agemman?’
‘No. I–’
Whatever the Chaplain had been going to say was cut off as the girl Alia burst into the room. She was in tears, babbling incoherently. Sentina pulled himself up and strode to her. Kneeling, he grabbed her arms and stared into her face.
‘Alia,’ he said gently. ‘What is wrong? What has happened?’
She tried to answer, but her words were cut off by huge wracking sobs. Sentina leaned in and whispered something to her that the sergeant couldn’t hear. Gradually, she calmed, the tears subsided and her breathing returned to normal.
‘It’s my brother. I… I saw him and he ran through me and left bloody handprints on the eagle and–’
Sentina spoke over her. ‘I don’t understand, girl. What does your brother have to do with anything?’
The woman looked up, staring at the Chaplain through tear-streaked eyes. ‘He was here. But he can’t be.’
‘Why not?’
‘He’s been dead for months.’
Alia hurried to follow the Space Marine through the twisting corridors of the towering fortress, struggling to keep up as she told her story.
‘It was my dad that got sick first,’ she said. ‘He fell over in the fields. We brought him in and put him to bed. He had a fever and got pale. And then my mam got it too. And the farmhands, and then… Felip.’
‘Felip,’ repeated the Chaplain. ‘Your brother?’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I didn’t get sick. I don’t know why. I looked after them all, but they just got worse and then they died, one by one. And I was alone. And then…’
‘And then they got up,’ said Sentina grimly.
She nodded, then realised that he was focused on the route to the shrine and couldn’t see the motion. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I was so happy for a moment, until Dad went for me. He was trying to bite me.’
‘You fought him off?’
‘Yes. I’m strong, you see, from working the fields, and he’d been sick and was weaker. I pushed him away and ran out. Got to the barn where he kept his rifle. And…’
She didn’t want to tell him the rest.
‘You did the right thing,’ said the Chaplain, stopping and looking down at her. ‘You were in danger and you ended it. Like burning the bodies of the dead serfs here.’
She shook her head. ‘You don’t understand. I didn’t. I couldn’t. I tried, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t kill him. Felip. I had one bullet left after… after the rest. But I couldn’t. I got out and ran. Just ran.’ She paused for a moment and then confessed the last. ‘I still have the bullet. Just… Just in case.’
‘You survived. You continue to survive. That is the first and greatest thing that the Emperor demands of us, Alia. Our lives. Our service.’
They continued moving, and Alia fell silent as she struggled to keep up. They came to the shrine chamber, with the great spiral on the floor and the aquila on the wall.
‘You see?’ she said. ‘I followed him in here, and he touched the eagle in those three places and vanished. See the blood?’
‘I see only a stone eagle,’ said Sentina. ‘Nothing more. No blood. No handprints.’ He turned to leave. ‘This was a fool’s errand.’
‘Was it?’ came a voice from the doorway. The priest, Andronicus.
‘There is nothing here, priest. Alia is overtired and hallucinating.’
‘I’m not,’ she protested. ‘I saw him. I saw my brother.’
The priest shuffled over and put his arm around her shoulder. ‘I believe you, child. The Emperor works in mysterious ways.’ He guided her over to the eagle. ‘Show us where the handprints are, Alia. Show us where your brother touched.’
Alia slowly reached out to the bloody smear on the left wing. Wincing slightly and closing her eyes, she touched it. It was cold and dry, just stone. When she opened her eyes again, the blood was gone, though the other two remained. She heard a noise, like stones scraping together.
‘What was that?’ she asked.
Sentina looked around, then down. ‘It came from below,’ he said. He looked at her, and at the priest. ‘Touch the next handprint,’ he said. She did so, and it vanished before her eyes, receding to nothing. Again, she heard the noise, sounding louder and closer. Taking a deep breath, she reached out and put her palm against the third tiny handprint.
‘Goodbye, Felip. I’m sorry,’ she said. The blood disappeared, and she heard a loud rumbling behind her. Turning, she saw the pattern on the floor falling away,
each intricately carved section becoming one step in a gigantic spiral staircase. She stepped over and looked down. The steps stretched away into darkness. Astonished, she looked up at the Space Marine.
‘What is this?’ she asked.
‘I do not know,’ replied the Chaplain. ‘It’s not on the schematics for the fortress and not mentioned in any of the logs or reports.’
‘The Emperor works in mysterious ways,’ piped up the priest. ‘I think you’re about to find out what happened to your Doom Eagles friends, Chaplain Sentina.’
The Space Marine was silent for a time, though Alia thought she heard a clicking and low speech from within his helmet.
‘My brothers are coming,’ he said at last. ‘You two return to the serfs’ quarters. Get some rest. I’m going to find out what secrets Fort Garm is hiding.’
The priest took Alia by the elbow and guided her carefully around the great staircase. As they left the room, she looked back and saw Chaplain Sentina beginning to descend into the darkness.
Seven
Akal Netesh ground his heavy boot down on the chest of the silver-armoured Space Marine.
‘Your brothers are dead,’ he gurgled gleefully. ‘Your duty is over. You have failed. You have a choice. Join me and help me to bring this world to ruin… Or die.’
He looked down, and saw himself reflected in the lenses of the Doom Eagle’s helmet. He saw armour that was pitted and cracked. Where once, a long time ago, it had been the colour of polished bone, bearing the proud heraldry of the Death Guard Legion, it now looked like rotten flesh. It was bloated and swollen where the body within had expanded and the majestic powers of Chaos had warped the battleplate to fit the glory of his new form. Vile liquids oozed from the various cracks, and a great hole torn in the side – the result of a bolter shell from this pathetic Space Marine’s now-dead comrade – revealed flesh the colour of marble and bloody sores that dripped pus.
Truly, he was blessed by Nurgle.
He saw the great manreaper scythe that he gripped in one fist, its long ceramite haft adorned with arcane sigils and its blade enhanced with a power field generator. Once, long ago, he had carried another weapon, a relic of the office he had once held within the Death Guard Legion, but no more. The other symbol of that long-forgotten role though, that he still had, and it stared back up at him from his reflection – a helmet in the shape of a skull.
