Celestine - Andy Clark

by Warhammer 40K

  ‘I will answer what I can, but I know little more than you do yourself,’ said Faith. ‘My power lies in belief more than in wisdom.’

  Celestine walked to join Faith, her armoured feet ringing against cold stone. She stopped and looked out of the shrine’s doorway onto ashen desolation.

  ‘Where is the city?’ she asked. Through the arch lay nothing but drifts and dunes of ash, a blackened desert where once had stood the mouldering ruins of civilisation.

  ‘Buried. Burned away,’ replied Faith. ‘Or else slipped elsewhere through this dreamer’s silent maelstrom.’

  ‘What is this place?’ asked Celestine. ‘Faith, I asked you before but you would not answer me then. Will you answer me now? Where are we? Why have I awoken here? What am I supposed to do?’

  ‘You know where you are, Saint,’ said Faith. ‘Just as you know that, at this moment, both you and I are of this realm, yet not of it. As to what you must do, I believe that you already know that also.’

  ‘The light,’ breathed Celestine.

  ‘For now, you feel it only, but soon I believe it will be revealed to you,’ said Faith.

  ‘It is the light of the Emperor, is it not?’ asked Celestine.

  ‘The very same,’ said Faith, smiling.

  ‘Will I find my answers there, Faith?’ asked Celestine. Faith did not reply, but her smile did not leave her face, either.

  ‘How will you travel with me, then?’ asked Celestine. ‘I won’t leave you here, not now that I’ve found you.’

  ‘I am a part of you, one of the trinity,’ said Faith. ‘I may fly as you do, if you but believe it so.’

  She stepped out through the empty archway into the ashen wastes, Celestine following. A clearing of bare stone spread around the shrine for a distance of perhaps twenty feet in all directions. A perfect circle into which the ash had not settled or slid.

  Celestine’s attention was drawn back to Faith. She arched her back as though stretching out the kinks from a long night’s sleep. As she did so, wings spread from her shoulders beneath her robes. They glowed like Celestine’s own, but where the Saint’s were formed from the golden light of the noonday sun, Faith’s were moonlight-silver, shot through with glimmering streamers of amethyst.

  ‘They are beautiful,’ said Celestine.

  ‘They are as much yours as they are mine,’ said Faith. ‘Now, Saint, lead as you always have.’

  Celestine closed her eyes and shut out the hiss and shift of ashes in the cold desert air, the rumble of the fiery clouds above, the distant howling of unnameable things. She sought for the light of the Emperor, and after a moment of silent prayer, she found it. Warmth blossomed upon her face like a sudden sunbeam falling through a window, and she could not quite suppress a smile.

  ‘This way,’ she said, leaping skywards. Faith followed her, burning brands in hand, and their wingbeats whirled the ash into a storm in their wake.

  An immeasurable span of time passed as two angels flew on through twisted skies. Celestine attempted to question Faith further, but always the answers were the same; either Faith would assert that Celestine already knew, or she would simply smile her warm and enigmatic smile and fly on without a word.

  The lands had become less formless and shifting, the ashen deserts instead remaining a fixture that rolled on beneath Celestine and Faith for miles beyond measure. Eventually they began to see shards of glimmering crystal bursting up through the dead ground. First came isolated outcroppings, then what Celestine thought of as crystal copses. Those soon became a forest until they overwhelmed the ash altogether and melded into undulating crags and hills of jagged crystal through which deep ravines and tunnelled passages ran. The crystal itself described many strange and wondrous shapes and ranged through vivid blues and lurid purples to acid greens and garish, almost sulphurous yellows.

  Fires danced here and there upon, or even within, the crystal crags. Some were small and isolated flickers, others sweeping conflagrations that sprawled for miles.

  ‘What fuels those fires?’ wondered Celestine. ‘There is nothing down there to burn.’

  ‘Sorcery,’ said Faith, and now her smile was gone.

  As they flew on, Celestine saw that the land ahead was rising. A veil of shimmering silver mists rose before them, then parted like rippling quicksilver to reveal monolithic mountains rising upon the horizon and drawing swiftly closer. Celestine’s eyes widened as she took them in, for they resembled tongues of flame hewn from the same crystalline substance over which she now flew. They were beyond immense, soaring up and up and ever up into the roiling void so that their peaks were lost eventually to sight amidst clouds of foul-hued energies.

  Somewhere up there, amidst the jagged crags, Celestine saw a faint glimmer of something pure.

  ‘There, the Emperor’s light, I see it!’

  ‘Shall we test these wings of ours and fly towards it?’ asked Faith.

  ‘I am not sure that even the power of flight could carry us so high,’ said Celestine. ‘Nor would I brave that swirling maelstrom unless I had no other choice. Besides, Faith, look.’

  She pointed with her blade towards the base of the crystal peaks. Down there amidst the desolation rose a crystalline dais the size of a fortress, whose top pressed flush against the lowest slopes. Upon that wide span of shimmering blue-and-mauve crystal could dimly be seen a seat or throne, and upon it sat a humanoid figure. As they watched, Celestine and Faith saw the figure gesture. In response, braziers to either side of the throne burst alight.

  ‘Something awaits,’ said Celestine.

  ‘I believe you are correct, Saint,’ said Faith.

  ‘Let us not keep this stranger waiting,’ said Celestine, tilting her wings and swooping down towards the dais far below.

  Celestine’s feet touched the crystal dais, and she folded her wings in behind her back. Close to, she saw that the figure sat upon a throne of shattered rock. It was swathed in heavy black robes, and what little of its face was visible was concealed behind a bone mask. It hunched forward intently, and Celestine saw the glint of a sword’s pommel rising between the figure’s shoulders. It resembled that carried by Faith. Firelight from the burning braziers danced upon it.

  ‘She is not dissimilar from myself, Saint,’ said Faith, making to approach. Celestine held up a hand. She felt the intensity of the figure’s gaze without needing to see it.

  ‘Caution, Faith, all may not be as it seems,’ she said.

  ‘Caution,’ spat the figure. Its voice was hoarse and croaking, but recognisably female. ‘What time is there for caution, anymore? Approach my throne or begone.’

  Celestine exchanged a glance with Faith then stepped forward, blade held ready.

  ‘Who are you?’ asked Celestine. ‘How do you come to wait for us in this place?’

  ‘Questions and uncertainty,’ snarled the figure, and its robes stirred as it shook its head. ‘You are not what you should be. You are lessened, a vessel half-empty and not worth the filling.’

  Celestine frowned and stopped a dozen paces from the figure’s throne. Her hand strayed to the hilt of her blade and stayed there. The crystal mountains towered over the dais, dizzying in their immensity. Grinding thunder rumbled overhead.

  ‘Name yourself, creature,’ said Celestine. ‘I command you in the Emperor’s name.’

  A retching noise split the silence. It took a moment for Celestine to realise that the sound coming from behind the thing’s mask was laughter, cold and cruel.

  ‘You think you are worthy to evoke the Emperor’s name, do you?’ asked the figure. ‘Very well, Saint Celestine. I am Purpose, and I wait for you here in the hopes that you may yet prove me wrong.’

  ‘She is worthy of the Emperor’s name, and of His love and protection,’ barked Faith. ‘She is the Living Saint, the beacon of the Emperor’s light and the deliverer of His true servants.’
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  ‘You, fasten your lips and know your place,’ spat Purpose. ‘Faith and entitlement make for poor companions, and many suffer beneath the lash of their good intentions.’

  Faith recoiled with an expression of dismay, that turned swiftly to anger. She lifted her burning brands, and Celestine again gestured to her to hold back.

  ‘What have I done, Purpose, that has angered you so?’ she asked. ‘Who are you to me, that I should care to prove you right or wrong?’

  ‘It is what you have not done, Celestine,’ said Purpose, leaning further forwards in her throne. She laid her hands upon its arms, and Celestine saw flashes of pale skin spotted with age, long nails lacquered mourning black. Aquila tattoos ran across both sets of Purpose’s knuckles.

  ‘And what is that?’ asked Celestine, wary now.

  ‘The war still rages.’ Purpose bit out the words, injecting each syllable with venom. ‘The Primordial Annihilator continues its rampage at the expense of the Emperor’s realm. And here you stand before my throne again, with the temerity to ask what is yet to be done.’

  Celestine’s mind raced as she tried to make sense of Purpose’s words. Though the sense of them was clear, still her memories were full of holes, half-formed and too far occluded to help.

  ‘I do not know of which war you speak, though clearly it is one between the Emperor and the Chaos Gods,’ she said. ‘You sound as though you would hold me solely accountable for its continuation.’

  ‘Should I not, then?’ asked Purpose, and Celestine heard the sneer clear in her voice. ‘Yet what was the bargain you struck, so long ago? What was the quest to which you swore your soul, and the reward you were promised for your sacrifices? What was your promise, before you were Celestine?’

  ‘I do not remember,’ said Celestine. ‘But if this war rages between gods then you cannot–’

  ‘I can, and I must!’ snarled Purpose, surging up out of her throne. Faith swung her burning brands to bear, but at a gesture from Purpose they were extinguished. Another flick of her wrist and the surface of the crystal dais convulsed. Jagged shards whizzed through the air as the dais burst open in a dozen places, and rattling chains of black iron surged upwards like serpents.

  Faith cried out as chain links wound around her again and again, binding her in place. Meanwhile, Purpose advanced inexorably upon Celestine, who stood her ground with her sword-point levelled.

  ‘The war still rages, and you come before me asking who, and why, and how,’ spat Purpose. ‘You should be in battle. You should be spreading the light of hope to those who have none. You should be striking down the unrighteous with the Emperor’s own fury. You should already have triumphed, and in your triumph have led all others at last to theirs!’

  Chains clattered towards Celestine, coiling in the air then lunging towards her. She struck one nest of links away with her blade, but three more slithered around her arms and dragged them down with strength that even she could not resist. Celestine snarled as she was dragged to her knees, more chains bursting up to coil around her neck and drag her head forwards until she knelt before Purpose as though in supplication.

  Celestine heard the slither of metal against cloth, heard Faith give a strangled cry of alarm. She understood that Purpose had drawn her blade.

  ‘If you mean to strike my head from my shoulders then do so, but know that every time I fall in battle the Emperor brings me back,’ Celestine snarled. ‘I have seen it.’

  ‘It is a privilege hard-earned, not a right freely given,’ said Purpose. ‘And it is not for you, but for all those whom you serve.’

  With that, Celestine heard the sharp swish of the blade through the air and felt searing pain. Yet Purpose struck not at her neck, but at the places where her wings emerged ethereally from her armoured shoulders. Pain exploded through Celestine and she gritted her teeth, determined she would not cry out. Blood sluiced down her armoured limbs, slicking the ground around her. Another swish, another hacking blow, and an awful sense of severing. It was agonising, but Celestine refused to make a sound. She clung to her blade one-handed and strained against her chains.

  A third blow came, then a fourth, and suddenly the chains around her limbs relaxed. Light-headed with pain, Celestine nonetheless wrenched against her bonds with all her might. This time they gave, shattering before her furious strength. She surged to her feet, swinging her blade up, dimly registering the twin fires of agony between her shoulder blades and the tattered remnants of her fine gold wings strewn on the ground.

  Celestine stopped mid swing, staggering with arrested momentum. Purpose stood before her, hood thrown back and skull mask revealed. Her eyes stared through its sockets, wild and red-veined. Her hair spilled in a grey mane around it.

  Before Purpose stood a young girl in a simple white shift, a child no more than eight years of age. Celestine had not seen her approach; she seemed simply to have appeared. Purpose had a fistful of the girl’s black hair, and had laid the blade of her sword across the child’s throat. The girl stared imploringly at Celestine. Her eyes were dry, and her expression composed despite the blade that glinted before her.

  ‘What is this?’ asked Celestine.

  ‘An innocent, one of those you swore to protect,’ said Purpose. ‘Just one life amongst countless billions. Yet how much can she mean to you, this child, when you stand there with your oath unfulfilled? Kinder, is it not, for me to kill her now and spare her the slow horror of your betrayal? Your failure?’

  Celestine’s mind raced. She forced aside her pain and confusion, the vast and horrible implications of Purpose’s words. She ignored the bone-masked woman altogether as she locked eyes with the child instead.

  Carefully, Celestine lowered her blade.

  ‘It is alright, child,’ she said gently. ‘I won’t let her hurt you. What is your name?’

  ‘Don’t you know?’ said Purpose with a derisive snort. ‘Have you lost even that amidst your slow dissolution?’ The girl just stared at Celestine, a tiny tremor of her lip the only clue to the terror she was holding in check.

  ‘Just stay still, child, and do not fear,’ said Celestine. ‘I’ll save you from this.’

  ‘You can’t save her, any more than you can save anyone else,’ said Purpose. Celestine’s eyes snapped up and she locked her gaze with that of the woman in the bone mask. The Saint’s voice, when she spoke, was hard as clashing steel.

  ‘If you do the slightest harm to that child, then I swear by the Emperor’s name that I will take my sword and drive it through your heart. Do you doubt me?’

  ‘I do not,’ said Purpose, and Celestine frowned as she heard a slight note of approval in the woman’s voice. ‘Perhaps there is hope for you yet, Celestine. Perhaps you may still prove yourself.’

  ‘If I do, will you let her go unharmed?’ asked Celestine. She had no idea how she might protect this child amidst such a hellish realm, or how she would bring her to the Emperor’s light without placing her in even more danger. Even how the child had come to stand before her at all. She just knew, with absolute certainty, that she must defend her.

  ‘I swear it,’ said Purpose.

  ‘Then what must I do?’ asked Celestine, though in her heart she thought she already knew what she would hear next.

  ‘Climb,’ said Purpose, and Celestine closed her eyes, exhaling slowly. She opened them again and looked past Purpose, at the jagged immensity of the mountainside rising into the haze high above.

  ‘How far?’ asked Celestine. ‘To where?’

  ‘It is not for you to ask such questions,’ replied Purpose. ‘Is your faith not sufficient, Celestine?’

  Celestine shook her head. She slid her blade into the sheath on her back.

  ‘Very well,’ she said. ‘But if you harm that child, I will hunt you to the ends of this infernal realm, and no amount of trickery or manipulation will be enough to save you from my wrath. I care not
which gods rule here, nor how far from the Emperor’s light we stray, I will do this thing.’

  ‘Just climb,’ said Purpose. ‘We will remain behind, for this you must do alone.’

  Casting another reassuring look at the child, and what she hoped was a meaningful glance at Faith, Celestine strode past Purpose and approached the crystalline rockface. Close to, it was jagged and riddled with cracks, its surface glinting with shattered reflections. Somewhere beneath the surface, flickering fires danced as though trapped in a glacier or a deep, frozen pool.

  Finding handholds would not be an issue, thought Celestine. She stared upwards, and vertigo tried to set her staggering. No, she thought, the danger here was not the nature of the climb, but its hideous duration.

  ‘Emperor, lend me strength that I may save this innocent soul,’ said Celestine, and with those words she gripped her first handholds and pulled herself upwards.

  At first, the climb was a straightforward affair. Between her own strength and that of her servo-assisted armour, it was a simple enough matter for Celestine to drive metal-clad fingers and toes into cracks and haul herself steadily upwards. The pain between her shoulder blades had not lessened, but she was able to push the sensation to the back of her mind and seal it behind a wall of iron.

  The memory of the child’s frightened face helped her to do so.

  Celestine’s thoughts whirled, Purpose’s words reverberating through them. What was this war that the Emperor fought against the Dark Gods? Was she truly burdened with its ending, and if that were so, had she truly failed in her duty to end it? How many innocents were suffering for her failures? And why did the thought of that child’s peril disturb her so much more deeply than the notion of others’ suffering?

  ‘Because it does, and you know it,’ she said, addressing her blurred reflection in the crystalline rockface. ‘Is it just because she was right there in front of you? Or…’ Celestine wasn’t sure how to finish that thought, but she knew that she felt a connection to the girl and that it was enough to propel her, hand over hand, up the cliff face.