Lorgar: Bearer of the Word
Page 19
Kor Phaeron remembered the elation of the primarch, his zeal unleashed upon a waiting galaxy by the arrival of the Emperor and Magnus, gifted a Legion of superhuman warriors and the population of Colchis to further his magnum deus.
Karlstadt had been an easy compliance, in comparison to some. The Golden One had approached the compliance of a world the same way he had viewed the conversion of a city-state of Colchis. One offered the Word and if it was not accepted, delivered the Mace. His first planetary conquest had required both; the broadcasts of the Urizen had ignited the fires of worship among some of the planetary nations, who in turn received military assistance from the XVII Legion to destroy their enemies.
This was the very place where Lorgar had made planetfall, the mount upon which he had raised the first Grand Cathedral of the Saviour Delivered.
The temple was vast, encompassing much of the summit of the mountain from which it had been dug and built, nearly three kilometres long. The main nave ran for a third of that length, and within the vast structure had been assembled the commanders and their staffs from every Chapter of the Legion. Scores of captains and Chaplains, the banners of their companies with them, watched from afar by the golden-armoured Custodians sent to enforce the will of the Emperor.
It was typical of Lorgar that he had turned humiliation into triumph. No tawdry wiping away of the Legion's history. No amendments to the records of Terra away from scrutiny. Here, where he had first claimed a world for the Emperor, he ordered his Legion to make public amends for their trespasses. As visible and as grand as had been the trespasses against the Emperor, so too would be the penance to atone for them.
With them the Word Bearers had brought the sum of their wisdom and faith: every book and scrap of plex, crystal or parchment containing invocation and prayer; every banner, icon and aquila; every purity seal and oathpaper; every reliquary and talisman.
Lorgar said nothing. All knew why they were there.
He started the first pyre, throwing a votive candle onto an oil-soaked heap of prayer mats emblazoned with the Colchisian rune of the One - whose T shape outsiders mistook as shorthand for Imperium - variously rendered with additional bars, wings, skulls or haloes.
Of all the blazes Kor Phaeron had witnessed of late, this was the crowning moment. On the face of things, seen through the eyes of most there still, and in the reports of the Legio Custodes that would be sent back to Terra, it was a highly visible purge of the Legion's Emperor-worship.
And, in truth, it was.
Yet what few knew and no others saw, was that worship of another kind would replace it. Already through the Brotherhood Kor Phaeron had placed Chaplains and captains educated in the ways of the 'Old Faith'. The Truth, the people of Colchis had called it. The Lore and the Law of the Powers. There were still enough of that world and generation to remember what had come before to spread the Word to later generations.
Had he known what would come to pass… Kor Phaeron corrected himself. He had known, though the specifics he would not have dared guess at. But always he had attested to the plans of the Powers and how they acted through him. They had led him to Lorgar and from that moment destined him to this fiery apotheosis of his faith.
A whole Legion of Space Marines dedicated to the prosecution of the Powers' goals, nestled in the heart of the Imperium's efforts to conquer the galaxy.
He caught Erebus looking at him, skull helm held in his hands. There was triumph there too and Kor Phaeron realised he was smiling. He assumed a more respectful expression, yet returned the look of the First Chaplain in acknowledgement of the moment and their achievement.
His eye was drawn to Lorgar. He thought perhaps he might see some recognition there also, but the Urizen's eyes were lifted aloft, staring up into the Empyrean beyond the vaults of the massive temple. Around him the Word Bearers approached, hurling their banners and books, scrolls and sacraments onto the growing fire.
The primarch's eyes were ablaze with a golden light, a look Kor Phaeron knew well. The Golden One was not seeing anything in the physical realm, nor paying heed to the mortals who passed him, or the lick of the flames creeping closer and closer. The music of the spheres moved him, that higher calling, the universe's symphony that only came to his ear.
His purpose, his perception of the galaxy unlike any other.
Uncertainty crept into Kor Phaeron's heart at this thought.
Had the Powers guided him to the Declined on that day to meet the vehicle of his elevation? Or… Was it possible that they had guided Lorgar to a nearby caravan, which happened to belong to an itinerant, disgraced preacher?
Like the slow dusk of Colchis, a chill spread through Kor Phaeron despite the increasing fury of the temple-pyre.
All have their place in the scheme of the Powers. He had assumed that his zeal had been rewarded, the delivery of Lorgar the means by which Kor Phaeron would bring about their pre-eminence. It seemed prideful, now that he considered it.
Yet it had been his hand that had steered events. It had been the endeavours and machinations of Kor Phaeron that had… that had delivered Lorgar to Vharadesh, the heart of the Covenant. Where he almost certainly would have ended up by any other route. Such was the nature of the Covenant it was inevitable that Lorgar would have joined their ranks.
Kor Phaeron's confidence rallied briefly as he considered his part in creating the myth of Lorgar that had seen the Covenant capitulate without a fight. The resurgence fluttered away like the scraps of parchment being carried on the thermals of the flames. Lorgar's primarch gifts would have seen him dominate the Church of Colchis under any circumstance, whether physical or moral.
In fact, Kor Phaeron's exile and tutelage had delayed that ascension by several years.
It was folly to doubt, he chided himself. Where was the strength he had shown in moulding Lorgar into the leader he was today? The teacher and acolyte. Yes, that was all Kor Phaeron's doing. Perhaps it was a little arrogant to think he deserved all of the credit, but he had guided Lorgar well and the primarch had recognised that, rewarded his contribution and loyalty.
Tutor and student.
Father and son.
Indivisible.
He sought the gaze of the Golden One to reassure himself, to see something of their bond renewed in the Urizen's eyes. Still there was nothing, only the faraway look of a man occupying a different realm.
If Kor Phaeron stepped aside, there would be… a literal legion of willing devotees to do the bidding of their primarch. Kor Phaeron was despised by most, his position despite not being a Space Marine a spark that lit the jealousy of many in the XVII.
His manner with inferiors had gained him few allies, even among the Brotherhood. That clandestine sect was built upon secrecy and a complete lack of compassion. But they answered to the Keeper of Faith; they would never turn on him.
It was a delusion, quickly stripped bare by Kor Phaeron's new-found enlightenment. Lorgar commanded the Brotherhood, and at his word they would rid the universe of Kor Phaeron as easily as they had the Terrans and the Colchisians too enraptured by the worship of the Emperor to accept the new order, their Old Faith.
More and more of the Legion's panoply was piled onto the burning mounds. All of it sacrificed, the achievements of the Great Crusade cast aside in a show of contrition.
All a show, Kor Phaeron thought with a lump in his throat and a tightness in his chest.
Lorgar desired a god to worship, above all else, and would stop at nothing to find it. Nothing.
He had endured, for it was the Urizen's way to avoid strife. Always, despite all setbacks small and grand, Lorgar prevailed. Kor Phaeron thought of the beatings he had given him as a youth. At any moment he might have employed the Voice, could have commanded Kor Phaeron to stop, to obey his merest whim.
But he had not.
Why? Why had he put up with the humiliation, the physical pain, the disdain of his adoptive father?
The surest disguise for his own ambition had been to hide it within the cloak of an
other's…
All that had occurred, from the moment he had stepped from the tent in the great expanse of Colchis' deserts, Lorgar had desired. Perhaps not desired, but allowed. He had allowed Kor Phaeron to take him from the Declined. He had allowed the chastisement, even speaking and fighting on behalf of his abuser.
And now that he had finally cast off the illusory faith in the Emperor and rededicated himself to the Powers, what now? Did he need Kor Phaeron?
An ember fluttered from the pyre and landed on Kor Phaeron's gauntlet. He brushed it away, turning it to ashen dust.
Lorgar would dispose of him as easily as he sloughed away all previous faiths and guises. Always with regret, always with a tear and self-flagellation, but all the same Lorgar removed every obstacle between himself and his goal.
Staring ahead, lost in the flames, Kor Phaeron wondered when he too would be thrown upon a pyre, just another obstacle between Lorgar and immortal greatness.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Gav Thorpe is the author of the Horus Heresy novels Deliverance Lost, Angels of Caliban and Corax, as well as the novella The Lion, which formed part of the New York Times bestselling collection The Primarchs. He is particularly well-known for his Dark Angels stories, including the Legacy of Caliban series. His Warhammer 40,000 repertoire further includes the Path of the Eldar series, the Phoenix Lords novels Jain Zar and Asurmen, The Beast Arises novels The Emperor Expects and The Beast Must Die, Horns Heresy audio dramas Raven's Flight, Honour to the Dead and Raptor, and a multiplicity of short stories. For Warhammer, Gav has penned the End Times novel The Curse of Khaine, the Time of Legends trilogy, The Sundering, and much more besides. He lives and works in Nottingham.
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