The First Heretic

‘My friends, please accept the sincerest apologies for my untimely arrival.’ Lorgar favoured them all with a beatific smile before taking his place at the head of the table. ‘I trust all is in readiness for planetfall?’

The gathered commanders assured him that it was. Resplendent in the ceremonial armour of a Covenant warlord, Lorgar listened to their reports in turn.

‘Sire,’ one said, at the conclusion.

‘Speak, Argel Tal.’

‘One matter still troubles me. It has been three weeks now,’ the captain said, ignoring the mutters that started up. ‘Where is the Unending Reverence?’

Lorgar rested his golden hands on the central table, leaning forward. All present could see in his eyes how much the words cost him.

‘It is stormlost. We will mourn the crew, and our brothers on board. But it is folly to hold out hope any longer.’

‘Sire...’ Argel Tal was far from placated. ‘We will not even search for them? One vessel stormlost is a tragedy, but three... Aurelian, please, the Expedition is threatened. We must seek them.’

‘How? In the warp?’

Another judder gripped the ship, this one lasting several moments. Lorgar smiled a downcast little smile, no doubt amused at the timing of the ship’s renewed trembling. ‘Even the aftershocks of this storm are savage. You wish to dive back into the warp to hunt three atoms in a whirlwind?’

‘I call again for the astropaths to make the attempt,’ said Argel Tal. ‘If they can find their counterparts on the Reverence–’

‘My son,’ Lorgar shook his head. ‘Your compassion does you great credit, but we cannot halt the Pilgrimage on account of one lost warship. The warp is a cruel mistress. How many vessels has the Imperium lost in its tides over the course of the Great Crusade? Hundreds? Perhaps even a thousand or more.’

Major Arric tapped a few buttons on his own data-slate. ‘We’re on the frontier, and we all know it. Reinforcements aren’t coming our way, no matter how loud we shout for help. How regularly are we receiving word from other fleets now?’

‘The time between contacts is rising exponentially,’ said Phi-44. ‘The last astropathic transmission from Lord Kor Phaeron’s main fleet was four months ago.’

Xaphen spoke up now. ‘The first captain’s last message contained updated star charts showing the Legion’s expansion to the Galactic Rim, and a list of compliances achieved. It also contained the sincerest gratitude for the eight thousand more words and three pict references to be added to their fleet’s copies of the Book of Lorgar.’

The primarch chuckled, but said nothing.

Xaphen continued, ‘The closest Imperial expedition to us is the 3,855th, almost a year’s warp flight distant.’

‘What Chapters lead the 3,855th?’ asked Deumos.

‘The Bloodied Visage,’ Phi-44 confirmed, ‘and the Crescent Moon. And Chaplain Xaphen is incorrect. The 3,855th Expeditionary Fleet is between thirteen and fifteen months distant, depending on the vagaries of the warp.’

Silence fell.

‘A year,’ said Lorgar. ‘How far we have come, to serve as humanity’s eyes in the dark. No other Imperials have spread themselves this far apart, nor travelled this far from Terra and its conquered territories.’

A year. Argel Tal was struck by the distance put into such terms. We are over a year’s flight distant from our nearest brothers, and even farther from the Imperium’s true edge.

‘So we’re well and truly alone,’ Arric echoed the captain’s thoughts, and the ship punctuated his words with another savage tremor.

‘Sire,’ Argel Tal began again.

‘Peace, my son,’ the primarch cut him off with a gentle lift of his hand. ‘Master Delvir? Can you offer Captain Argel Tal the solace he seeks?’

The Master of Astropaths was a watery-eyed rake of a man, clad in a robe of colourless grey that hung off his shoulders in velvet waves. He regarded the room with a kicked dog’s expression as he realised more and more faces were turning his way.

‘Our auguries are... That is to say... Our senses are... I can hear the world we move towards. It’s difficult to put into words.’

Lorgar cleared his throat to draw the man’s attention. ‘Master Delvir?’

‘My lord?’ the man asked in his whispery voice.

‘You are among equals, here. Friends. We all sympathise with the pressures the storm has placed upon you. Do not be nervous or hesitant in explaining the details.’

Shosa Delvir, Master of Astropaths, bowed without much in the way of grace. But it was sincere. Lorgar returned the bow, not to same depth, but with a smile.

‘Sometimes,’ the astropath began slowly, ‘mere chance is enough to bring an Imperial fleet to one of humanity’s lost worlds. Blessed are those occasions. More often, we rely upon the few ancient star charts that endured the chaos of Long Night and the Unification Wars that ravaged Terra. But when you rely upon us – when you call upon the astropathic choir – I... I will explain it as best I can.’

‘That,’ Argel Tal watched his father writing the words down, ‘was the first moment my blood ran