forefathers spoke the truth when they founded their faith. But we must also move with caution. The Emperor’s hounds prowl around our pack, and as wise as my father is, he has shown his blindness to the underlying truths of the universe.’
Kor Phaeron now bowed as well, mirroring Erebus. ‘Lorgar. My son. This will be our atonement. We can enlighten humanity with this truth, and wash away the stains of the past. In truth... I have feared this moment for some time.’
Lorgar licked his cracked lips. They tasted of ash. ‘If that is so, why have you waited to share your worries? Hindsight is a powerful vindicator, my friend, but none of us saw this coming. Not you, not I.’
Kor Phaeron’s eyes fairly gleamed. The elder leaned forward, as if the scent of some triumphant hunt filled his senses.
‘I have something I must confess, great lord,’ he said. ‘A truth that must grace your ears now, for the time has come.’
Lorgar turned to his foster father with threatening slowness. ‘I do not like your tone,’ he said.
‘Sire, my primarch, I tell no lie when I say I have feared this day would come. I took the smallest, most humble measures against its arrival, and–’
The words died in his throat, trapped there by his master’s hand. Lorgar squeezed the older man’s thin, tiny neck, cutting off speech and air with the barest use of strength. Erebus tensed, his eyes moving between the two figures.
Lorgar pulled Kor Phaeron closer, breathing deeply as if to mock the elder’s strangled gasps.
‘No more revelations, Kor Phaeron. Have we not confessed to enough of our own flaws this night?
He loosened his grip enough for Kor Phaeron to rasp out the words.
‘Davin, seventeen years ago,’ the elder whispered. ‘Corossa, twenty-nine years ago. Uvander, eight years ago...’
‘
‘Compliant... with the Imperial Truth. But embers of... cultures... were allowed to... remain.’
‘Beliefs... that matched... the Old Faith... of home... I could not let... potential... truths... die...’
‘Can I not control my own warriors?’ Lorgar took a shuddering breath, and something clicked quietly inside Kor Phaeron’s neck. ‘Am I my brother Curze, struggling to control a Legion of liars and deceivers?’
‘Lord, I... I...’ Kor Phaeron’s eyes were rolling back into his skull. His tongue was dark now, slapping against his thin lips.
‘Sire,’ Erebus began. ‘Sire, you’ll kill him.’
Lorgar stared at Erebus for several moments, and the Chaplain wasn’t sure his liege lord even recognised him.
‘Yes,’ Lorgar said at last. ‘Yes. I could.’ He opened his fingers, letting Kor Phaeron collapse to the chamber floor in a heap of robed limbs. ‘But I will not.’
‘My lord...’ the elder heaved in air through blue lips. ‘Much to be learned... from those cultures... They are all echoes of ancestral human faith... Like you... I am no butcher... I wished to save... the lore of the species...’
‘It is a time of many revelations,’ the primarch sighed. ‘And I am not blind to why you did this, Kor Phaeron. Would that I had showed the same forethought and mercy.’
It was Erebus who replied. ‘You have asked the question yourself, sire. What if there is truth in the cultures we destroy? Kor Phaeron saved a handful, but the Great Crusade has annihilated thousands. What if we are repeating the sin of Colchis over and over and over again?’
‘And why,’ Kor Phaeron managed a faint smile as he touched his discoloured throat, ‘do so many cultures share the same beliefs as our own home world? Surely that suggests an underlying truth...’
The Seventeenth Primarch nodded, the motion slow and sincere. Already, even before this latest confession, his mind was turning to the future, tuning in to the endless possibilities. This was his genetic gift in action: a thinker, a dreamer, where his brothers were warriors and slayers.
‘We have worshipped at the wrong altar for over a hundred years,’ said Kor Phaeron, his voice returning.
Lorgar sifted through the bowl of ash, clutching another handful and smearing it across his face.
‘Yes,’ he said, with strength returning to his voice. ‘We have. Erebus?’
‘At your command, sire.’
‘Take my words to the Chaplains, tell them all of what transpires in the days I remain sequestered here. They deserve to know their primarch’s heart. And when you return for further counsel tomorrow, please bring me parchment and a pen. I have much to write. It will take days. Weeks. But it must be written, and I will not leave my isolation until it is done. You, both of you, will help me compose this great work.’
‘What work, sire?’
Lorgar smiled, and never had he looked so much like his father.
‘The new Word.’
SIX
Kale the Servitor
Unfocused
